340: Chapter 340 What did he call this?

Qin Lin lowered his head and kissed her again, this time deeper, slower.

Qing Yue's lips turned from cold to warm, from stiff to soft.

Her hands moved from his waist to his back, her fingers applying slight pressure.

Qin Lin laid her down on the bed, her hair spread out on the white pillow like a black river.

She looked at Qin Lin, her gaze calm, without fear, without expectation, holding only a kind of "Come" acceptance.

Qin Lin reached out and turned off the light.

The room darkened, leaving only the dim yellow light leaking in from the hallway.

Qing Yue's skin glowed faintly in the darkness; that light wasn't from the lamp, but radiated from within her body.

Spiritual power flowed beneath her skin like tiny rivers, surging within her body.

Qin Lin's hand slid from her shoulder to her arm, and from her arm to her waist.

Her skin was very smooth, not the smoothness from skincare products, but a warmth from within, like jade.

"Qing Yue."

"Hm."

"Your body is very hot."

"Spiritual power is circulating. When I Cultivate, my body gets hot, and I can't control it."

Qin Lin's fingers paused at her waist.

The skin there was hotter than elsewhere, the spiritual power denser, like a tiny energy furnace burning beneath the skin.

That night, Qin Lin did not leave Qing Yue's room.

Hong Yao and Qing He squeezed into another room, leaving the space to them.

Hong Yao tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, while Qing He kept her eyes closed, pretending to sleep.

The corridor was very quiet, with the faint humming of The Ark's life support System.

When Qing Yue woke up the next morning, Qin Lin was no longer in bed.

There was a glass of warm water on the nightstand, with a note pressed underneath. The note had only one sentence: "Good morning, remember to eat breakfast."

Qing Yue looked at the line of text, her fingers gently touching the handwriting.

She picked up the glass and took a sip, the warm water flowing down her throat.

She got up, washed up, changed her clothes, and walked out of the room.

In the corridor, Han Yurou was passing by carrying Qin Yue. Seeing her, she paused.

"Qing Yue, did you sleep well last night?" Han Yurou asked.

Qing Yue nodded: "It was okay."

Han Yurou glanced at her, didn't press further, and walked away with Qin Yue.

Qing Yue stood in the corridor, watching Han Yurou's back.

She touched her face; her cheeks were hot, not because of a fever, but because she hadn't slept well last night.

It wasn't because of insomnia; it was because Qin Lin's hand had been on her waist the whole time.

She looked down at her hands, recalling what happened last night.

Qin Lin's hand slid from her waist to her legs, and from her legs to her ankles.

When his fingers brushed over the scar, he stopped, pressing his thumb gently against it.

"So that's how I became his woman. But this business between men and women really is more comfortable than Cultivating; I should do it with him more often in the future."

"Right, what did he call this... what was it again? Love?"

...

Hong Yao was the second one.

She wasn't as calm as Qing Yue, nor as silent as Qing He.

She belonged to the type that "says no with their mouth, but their body is very honest."

When Qin Lin entered her room, Hong Yao was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a pink short-sleeved shirt and white shorts—the set Han Yurou had picked out for her.

When she saw Qin Lin enter, her face turned red instantly, from the base of her neck to the tips of her ears, like a rabbit suddenly pulled out of its burrow.

"Y-y-y-you're here?" Her voice was trembling violently.

Qin Lin sat down beside her: "Nervous?"

"Not nervous!"

Her voice was loud, but her hands were shaking, her legs were shaking, her whole body was shaking.

Qin Lin reached out and took her hand.

Hong Yao's hand was ice-cold, damp, and covered in sweat.

"Your palms are sweating."

"That's because it's hot!"

Hong Yao pulled her hand back to wipe it on her clothes, then reached out again to hold Qin Lin's hand.

"Okay, no more sweat. Y-y-y-you, don't talk, let me catch my breath."

Qin Lin didn't speak, just let her hold it.

Hong Yao took a deep breath, then another deep breath, then let go of his hand and stood up.

She began to unbutton her shirt.

It wasn't the calm kind of unbuttoning; it was fumbling and frantic, and she had to try several times to undo the first button.

Qin Lin found her appearance somewhat amusing.

"Let me."

Qin Lin stood up and reached out to help her.

Hong Yao's buttons were very small, and his fingers were large, but his hands were steady, undoing them one by one, unhurriedly.

Hong Yao looked down at his fingers, her face blushing as if it were about to bleed.

The buttons were undone, and the short-sleeved shirt slid off her shoulders and fell to the floor.

She was wearing lingerie; her skin was very fair, but had more color than Qing Yue's—not that cold white, but a healthy, pinkish-white.

Qin Lin pulled her into his arms.

Hong Yao's face pressed against his chest, hearing his heartbeat—very steady, like a drum.

Her own heartbeat was also very fast, so fast she felt he must have heard it.

"Qin Lin... I'm scared." Her voice was very small, muffled against his chest.

Qin Lin lowered his head to look at her: "Scared of what?"

"Scared it will hurt. I heard Qing Yue say it hurts a lot."

Qin Lin thought for a moment: "It's not that painful, she was just scaring you."

"Really?"

"Really."

Hong Yao looked up from his arms at him, her eyes red.

Qin Lin lowered his head and kissed her forehead; she closed her eyes, her eyelashes trembling.

Her lips were hot, soft, and carried a hint of sweetness—not the taste of lipstick, but her own scent.

As Qin Lin kissed her, her hands moved from his chest to his shoulders, then to his neck, finally hooking around his neck.

That night, Hong Yao cried once, not because of pain, but because when Qin Lin kissed her neck, her tears just fell on their own, unable to be stopped.

Qin Lin stopped and asked her what was wrong, and she said "Nothing."

He asked her again if it hurt, and she said no, it was because "No one has ever treated me like this."

Qin Lin kissed away the tears on her face and said nothing more.

Hong Yao's tears flowed for a long time, but the corners of her mouth were turned up.

...

Qing He was the last one.

She didn't have Qing Yue's calmness, nor Hong Yao's nervousness.

She was something deeper, heavier, hidden beneath the water's surface.

When Qin Lin entered her room, Qing He was sitting by the window, looking at the starry sky outside.

She was wearing a white T-shirt and black shorts, her hair tied in a low ponytail, barefoot.

Hearing footsteps, she didn't turn back, continuing to look out the window.

Qin Lin walked over and sat down beside her, following her gaze out the window.

The nebula outside the window had already drifted away, leaving only the pitch-black space and scattered stars in the distance.

"Qing He." Qin Lin called her.

Qing He turned her head to look at him.

Her eyes were very dark and deep, like two bottomless wells.

She didn't speak, just looked at him.

"Are you afraid?"

Qing He thought for a moment: "No."

"Why?"

"What is there to be afraid of? If I were afraid, I would have left long ago. I knew this would be the outcome from the first day I came here."

Qing He stood up, walked to the side of the bed, sat down, then lay down, turning on her side to look at Qin Lin.

She patted the spot beside her: "Come."