142: Chapter 142 Mutual Confessions

Tears suddenly fell from Ye Xueying's eyes. It wasn't sadness, but being moved—a joy that welled up from the bottom of her heart.

Wang Yang felt the dampness on his face, let her go, and looked at her.

"Why are you crying?"

Ye Xueying shook her head, wiped her tears, and then shook her head again.

"No, it's nothing..."

Her voice was choked with sobs, yet the corners of her mouth were curled up.

Wang Yang smiled and reached out to gently wipe the tears from her face.

"Silly girl."

Ye Xueying buried her face in his chest, her hands clutching his coat so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Wang Yang held her, patting her back gently as if coaxing a child.

The night wind blew by, carrying the chill of the twelfth lunar month, but neither of them felt cold.

After a long while, Ye Xueying lifted her head from his chest. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were bright.

"Brother Yang."

"Hmm?"

Ye Xueying bit her lip.

"Were you... serious just now?"

Wang Yang looked at her.

"What do you think?"

Ye Xueying lowered her head, twisting the hem of her clothes with her fingers, her voice as quiet as a mosquito's hum.

"I, I don't know."

Wang Yang smiled and reached out to pinch her cheek.

"Of course I was serious."

Tears fell from Ye Xueying's eyes again, but this time she smiled—a smile that was exceptionally beautiful.

She leaned back into his embrace, pressing her face against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat.

Beat by beat, steady like the rhythm of a drum.

Her heart, finally, was no longer in a panic.

Wang Yang looked down at Ye Xueying. The light fell on the top of her head; her hair was soft and carried the faint scent of shampoo.

His hand patted her back gently, one stroke after another, slow and leisurely.

He could feel her body still trembling slightly.

It wasn't from the cold, but from nervousness—that sense of unease welling up from deep within.

Her fingers were clenched so tightly, as if she feared he would disappear the moment she let go.

A strange feeling suddenly surged in Wang Yang's heart.

It wasn't just heartache; it was tenderness, an impulse to pull her into his very bones.

He reached out and gently lifted her chin.

Ye Xueying was forced to raise her head and meet his gaze.

Her eyes were red, teardrops still hanging from her lashes, her nose tip red, and her lips slightly pursed.

She looked like a little kitten that had just been rescued from the rain.

"Xueying."

"Yes..."

Wang Yang looked at her, his tone becoming serious.

"I like you."

Ye Xueying froze, tears swirling in her eyes but not falling.

"From the very first time I saw you, I felt you were different."

Wang Yang's voice was very soft, yet it was exceptionally clear in the quiet park.

"As we got to know each other, I discovered you were kind, pure, and sensible—different from other girls."

His hand slid down from her face, taking her hand and interlocking his fingers with hers.

"I know we haven't known each other for long, but feelings have nothing to do with time."

Ye Xueying's tears finally fell, drop by drop, landing on the back of his hand, warm and hot.

Her lips trembled, wanting to say something, but not a single word could come out.

Wang Yang reached out and gently wiped the tears from her face.

"Don't cry. You won't look pretty if you keep crying."

Ye Xueying shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again.

She sniffled, took a deep breath, and though her voice was choked, she was very sincere.

"Brother Yang, I like you too."

Wang Yang looked at her.

Ye Xueying's face flushed red, but this time she didn't lower her head or avoid his gaze.

"At Godfather's house, the first time I saw you, I felt you were extraordinary."

Her voice was small, but very firm.

"You stood there, unlike anyone else. I can't describe the feeling, it was just... I couldn't help but want to look at you."

Her fingers hooked gently into his palm.

"Later, when you helped me fasten my seatbelt, you were so close. I smelled your scent, and my heart raced so fast."

Her face turned even redder, but she continued.

"And later, when you saved my grandfather, you stood in the hospital room—so many people didn't believe you, but you weren't flustered at all."

Ye Xueying's eyes were bright, like two stars.

"I just knew I hadn't misjudged you."

Wang Yang looked at her, his heart softening completely.

He reached out, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her closer.

Ye Xueying leaned against him, her face pressed to his chest, her hands clutching his coat tightly.

Wang Yang's hand rested on her waist; through the thin sweater, he could feel the softness and warmth of her waist.

Her waist was very slim and soft, as if she had no bones.

His fingers caressed it lightly, feeling that delicate skin.

Ye Xueying's body trembled slightly, but she didn't pull away; instead, she snuggled further into his embrace.

Wang Yang looked down at her.

"Xueying."

"Hmm?"

Ye Xueying looked up.

Wang Yang's lips descended.

It wasn't the light touch from before, but a real kiss.

It carried warmth, strength, and an irresistible dominance.

Ye Xueying's mind exploded with a buzz.

Her whole body felt as if it had been electrocuted; she froze there, motionless.

Her eyes were wide open, her lashes fluttering like butterfly wings.

Her hands clutched his coat so hard her knuckles turned white.

She could feel the temperature of his lips—soft, warm, and carrying a crisp, clean scent.

The tip of his tongue gently traced her lip line, once, then again, as if testing, as if teasing.

Ye Xueying's breathing became ragged; her face flushed from her cheeks to her ears, from her ears to her neck, and from her neck to her collarbone.

Her mind was a blank slate; she couldn't remember anything.

Ye Xueying shuddered, a soft hum escaping her lips.

Her whole body felt as if all her strength had been drained, and she went limp in his arms.

Her hands slid from his coat and rested on his shoulders, her nails digging in slightly.

Wang Yang's hand moved up from her waist, landing on her back, pressing her closer to him.

Their bodies were pressed together; through the thin sweater and coat, they could feel each other's body heat.

Ye Xueying's heart beat so fast it felt like it was going to jump out of her throat, her breathing as rapid as if she had just finished a marathon.

She didn't know how much time had passed—it could have been seconds, minutes, or even longer.

Wang Yang finally let her go.

Ye Xueying leaned against him, gasping for air.

Her face was flushed as if it were burning, her eyes watery, and fine, broken tears hung on her lashes.

Her lips were slightly swollen and red, with a shallow cut on her lower lip oozing a tiny bead of blood.

Her hands were still resting on his shoulders, her fingers still trembling.

Wang Yang looked down at her and smiled.

He reached out and gently touched the corner of her mouth, his fingertip brushing over that tiny cut.

"Does it hurt?"

Ye Xueying shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again.

Her face turned even redder, and she buried her face in his chest, not daring to look at him.

Wang Yang laughed, the sound vibrating from his chest and making her face tingle.

"Brother Yang..."

The voice was muffled, coming from inside his coat.

"Hmm?"

"Are we... moving too fast?"

Ye Xueying's voice was very small, so quiet it was almost inaudible.