“Wait a moment, I’ll change my clothes.” She felt ticklish from his kisses and hurriedly pressed her small hand against his chest.
After making him wait for half an hour, she finally shyly came down the stairs. Her hair was meticulously styled into two dark buns, held in place with a flower pin, and she had taken off her apron, specially changing into a light purple qipao. This qipao was a gift from Annabel some time ago, with delicate patterns and silver-threaded buttons, made of high-quality material. Annabel had said she had gained some weight recently and could no longer wear it, so she gave it to her.
He looked at her for a long time, the corners of his lips maintaining a faint curve, but he didn’t say a word of evaluation.
“Do I look good?” She felt even shyer under his gaze, lowering her head and adjusting the bun behind her ear.
This silk dress fit her perfectly; unlike a Western dress, it completely covered her petite and full bosom, yet the beautiful curve of her chest was unmistakably revealed. The neckline was high, but it still exposed a section of her fair neck, and the narrow sleeves revealed her delicate arms, white and tender like lotus stems. She wasn’t wearing earrings; her small earlobes seemed almost transparent, and her long legs were subtly visible through the slit of the dress, showcasing the most feminine qualities.
“Come here, darling.”
She hesitated for a moment, then slowly walked over to him.
He sat in a chair, motionless, watching as she approached him, and suddenly pulled her into his embrace.
“You!” She was startled by him, protesting softly, yet obediently sitting on his lap.
His hand gripped her waist; her small waist was soft and slender, easily enveloped by his hands. He lovingly caressed the satin surface of her dress, the warmth and softness of the touch felt so inviting. He leaned his high nose close to her ear, inhaling her unique scent, but he discovered a rather tricky problem: the alluring dress was difficult to unfasten, the buttons slid smoothly from top to bottom, leaving no place to grip. So with a “rip—” sound, her dress, opened at the knee, instantly tore apart in his fingers.
“No, don’t…” She pounded on his chest, making muffled sounds. She wanted to scream but didn’t dare, as the maid and the cook were working just outside, and they could come into the hall at any moment, making it so embarrassing to be seen like this.
“Feel free to scream,” he said, showing no intention of stopping, breathing hotly near her ear, “but don’t expect anyone to come to your rescue.”
…
Under the flickering candlelight, the girl’s porcelain-like skin was illuminated. Khanyi had changed into a silk lake-blue dress, her cheeks flushed with rosy hues, her black hair cascading down, tied back with a matching blue ribbon in a bow behind her ear. Her dark eyes gazed intently at him.
He raised his glass, “Come on, let’s toast!”
“Happy birthday to you, cheers!” She also raised her glass, a section of her white arm sliding out from the lace-trimmed sleeve, clinking her glass against his. The two crystal-clear glasses filled with a light wine made a crisp, pleasant sound.
He tilted his head slightly, taking a small sip of red wine, but his eyes remained fixed on her, watching the rosy corners of her small face lift into a sweet smile, radiating happiness. He couldn’t help but smile back, reluctant to reveal a fact: today was not actually his birthday. This little woman had somehow seen a note and mistakenly thought that day was his birthday. But it didn’t matter; in fact, he didn’t remember his birthday, and no one had ever told him which day it was thirty years ago.
She gazed at him with wide eyes, smiling brightly, unaware of the secret in his heart, only a bit worried if her impromptu outfit was beautiful and charming enough.
He took another sip of wine, his ice-blue gaze shifting from the beautiful girl’s face to the large cake that had been cut. No matter what strange thing was drawn on the cake, this was the first birthday cake he had ever received. So, he had just indulged in two pieces of such sweet food.
“The wine today is a bit sour and astringent,” he said, swirling the glass, tilting it at a 45-degree angle, his ice-blue eyes fixed on the amber-colored sticky droplets clinging to the glass wall, which usually indicated a bottle of fine aged wine had been opened. “Actually, one shouldn’t eat sweet things before drinking red wine.”
“Are you saying that eating cake will affect the taste of the red wine?” She blinked, swallowing a sip of the purple wine, pursing her lips as the slightly sour taste made her frown, “But I can’t taste it.” She picked up the wine bottle placed in the corner of the table; this bottle was carefully selected by her from the chef, and it should be a good wine, but she wasn’t good at tasting wine. Unlike Annabel, who could take a sip and discern the vintage, she always felt that foreign wines tasted the same.
He smiled, blinking his blue eyes, his long fingers lifting the bright glass, gesturing to her, “Compared to fine wine, your beauty intoxicates me even more.”
