Zhao Yaqian kissed forcefully and hugged tightly.
Salty tears slid across the skin, cool.
The guitar was placed on the carpet at so unknown ti.
She looked at Tang Song in front of her, feeling his body warmth, his heartbeat, his affection.
Emotions surged to her heart, engulfing her entirely.
Her first love was sour, sweet, naïve, and pure.
From the first encounter at the beauty salon, to strolling on the rainy pedestrian street, hand-crafted fried skewers, Wuling Hongguang, 95 full tank, self-driving tours, struggles and refusals, heart-swelling monts, first kiss, being together...
Everything, everything, surged in her mories.
In her eyes, Tang Song was love itself, the entirety of her emotional world.
Her personality was simple, even sowhat clumsy, emotional and impulsive, with emotions showing easily.
Once, her vision for the far future was no more than learning a craft, finding a job that would ensure als.
But fate, like a sudden floodgate release, swept her into a completely different world.
She foolishly relied on him, naïvely completed class transition, advancing in one leap.
Before, she didn’t understand much, never really thought too deeply.
It was Tang Song who bit by bit told her what to do next, where to go.
Confusedly, she acquired a grand mansion, 40 million beauty salon shares, more than 20 million private club shares, and got to know the legendary Jin ixiao.
Her nineteen-year-old life seed like an overly grand, overly illusory dream.
Until recently, to be precise, the days back at Lu Province hotown.
At the mont of returning ho in glory, the shock in her parents’ eyes, relatives’ sycophancy, the status elevation brought by money...
She truly began to awaken from the dream.
At the sa ti, she also began as Tang Song said.
Facing her inner self, contemplating her value.
She was from an ordinary small town, with a complicated family background (parents in debt, greedy relatives), poor high school grades, didn’t attend university, lacking systematic education and artistic cultivation, having to rely on imitation to fill gaps.
Wanting to learn sothing, to present herself in social occasions, yet finding her capabilities lacking.
She wished to improve herself but discovered many shortcomings: eloquence, aesthetics, speaking...
Each needed to be learned from scratch.
Setting aside her figure and appearance, she was actually just an ordinary girl.
Then, she rembered what President Mo said during the trust signing earlier: "Before you, he had a lover."
She naturally knew long ago that "Miss Su" was Su Yu.
Both were "lovers" and "golden canaries," she subconsciously placed herself on the sa axis with Su Yu for comparison.
The result was catastrophic.
Su Yu was the goal she could never reach.
Even if she had her own career, learned to dance, could smile and pose under spotlights, she still couldn’t compare with her.
In understanding these things, those days, she tossed and turned every night.
There were several tis she awoke in the middle of the night, dreaming of Tang Song growing tired of her, leaving her, then crying under the covers.
Timidity, inferiority, evasion...
Caused her to stay a week longer at her hotown.
Fortunately, her inherent straightforwardness and optimism allowed these troubles to dissolve after crying, laughing, and a few big als.
But even so, in terms of love, she always harbored an inferiority that dared not be spoken.
She only chose not to dwell on it further.
Until tonight, this very mont.
Her dance captivated Tang Song, her posture amazed him;
He played guitar, sang "Slowly Like You" for her, softly gazing into her eyes.
She finally crossed the barrier in her heart.
Dispelled her inferiority in love.
She was his first woman.
Their clumsy yet sincere first kiss, hazy and tender first ti, slight exploration of each other’s bodies...
Tang Song wouldn’t leave her, would always like her, love her.
She would always accompany him.
Even if she was just an ordinary beautician, she’d always have a corner in his heart.
Even if that corner was small.
...
The damp kiss continued.
Zhao Yaqian’s smile grew increasingly bright.
Like peach blossoms blooming quietly in early spring sunlight, gentle, splendid, with a hint of playful confidence.
Reflected in Tang Song’s pupils, and etched into his heart.
Lips slowly parted, breathing not yet steadied.
"I love you, Zhao Yaqian," Tang Song murmured.
The beautician’s eyes seed misted yet shone brightly.
Like stars polished by spring rain, sparkling with captivating light.
"I love you too, Tang Song."
Before the words settled, she laughed and leapt up.
Her long, snow-white legs wrapped around Tang Song.
Her burgundy hair brushed against his face and neck, soft and passionate as fire.
"My dear programr friend," she winked playfully, "Beauty Zhao wants to impress you tonight!"
"I’ll be watching,"
Tang Song chuckled, supporting her hips, lifting her dance skirt, feeling the warmth from her supple legs.
Fine and smooth, tender and enticing.
He lowered his head to sniff the heart-soothing fragrance on her body, eyes gleaming with a blend of affection and desire.
Outside, the night was gentle, cold wind softly danced, but the room’s air started to heat up.
Zhao Yaqian chuckled softly near his ear, breath warm.
Two young souls tightly embraced.
Feelings surged, heartbeats, rustling clothes sounds, intertwined.
The nineteen-year-old beautician.
Though ordinary, willing to strive;
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