The Secret of the Yoga Club: The Women's Identity is Not Simple

The two of them carried the leftover plates into the kitchen together.

The hot pot broth was still simmering on the table. Ouyang Qian planned to wait until it cooled down before throwing it away and started washing the pots and pans. She stacked the plates in the sink, put on an apron, and began scrubbing the pot.

"Wrap the leftovers in plastic wrap and put them in the fridge," she instructed while washing the pot. "Put the spice bottles back in their place, wipe the countertop—the dishcloth is hanging under the sink."

"You're quite adept at ordering people around."

"Otherwise, how do you think management skills are developed? By ordering people around at home." She said without turning her head, "Just kidding. Hurry up, we still need to help Niu Niu build Lego later."

Lin Feng wrapped the leftovers in plastic wrap and put them in the refrigerator, then tightened the caps on the spice bottles and placed them on the spice rack. Ouyang Qian scrubbed the pot very efficiently, the steel wool scrubbing against the bottom of the pot, the foam piling up and being rinsed away with water.

While washing a glass fruit plate, my hands were covered in dish soap foam, and the plate slipped. When I reached for it, my fingers touched the blade of a freshly washed fruit knife.

A small cut immediately appeared on the pad of my index finger, and beads of blood seeped out from the wound, spreading out a small red patch in the white foam.

"Hiss—" She pulled her finger back and frowned as she looked at it.

Lin Feng turned around when he heard the sound.

I saw her standing in front of the sink, her right hand holding her left wrist, with beads of blood trickling down her index finger.

"What happened? Did you cut yourself?"

"It's nothing, I just slipped. The fruit plate was too slippery and I couldn't grab it." She put her hand under the tap to rinse it, and the water diluted the bloodstains. Pinkish blood flowed down her fingertips into the drain.

Lin Feng walked over, and without thinking much, grabbed her wrist and put her injured finger in his mouth.

Ouyang Qian paused for a moment.

Her fingers remained frozen between his lips, not pulling back.

My fingertips could feel the warm, moist environment of his mouth, and the touch of his tongue against the wound was soft and warm, with an indescribable tingling sensation. I could feel my heartbeat suddenly accelerate from its normal rhythm, thump, thump, thump, pounding in my chest.

"You..." She could only utter one word before she couldn't continue.

Lin Feng held her finger in his mouth for about ten seconds, then released it and looked at the wound.

The cut wasn't deep, but it was quite long, a little over a centimeter. The bleeding had stopped, and the edges of the wound were moistened with saliva, giving them a very light pink hue.

"Saliva can disinfect a bit. Where's the first-aid kit?"

"Under the coffee table," Ouyang Qian's voice was a half-tone softer than usual, "the left drawer."

He pulled Ouyang Qian by the wrist and led her to the living room, where he made her sit on the sofa.

Then he squatted down in front of the coffee table, opened a drawer, took out a first-aid kit, and took out a small band-aid.

Give me your hand.

Ouyang Qian stretched out her right hand, with her index finger pointing upwards.

Lin Feng placed her hand in his palm. Her hand was small, with long, slender fingers and neatly trimmed nails coated with a layer of clear nail polish.

I carefully wrapped the band-aid around her hand. The band-aid was flesh-colored with a small white gauze pad in the center, just enough to cover the wound. After wrapping it, I pressed the edges of the band-aid with my fingers to make sure it was stuck on, and then I released her hand.

"Okay. Don't get it wet for the next few days, and put it in a plastic bag when you shower."

After he finished speaking, he raised his head.

Ouyang Qian was looking down at him.

The two people's faces were very close, only about ten centimeters apart.

Lin Feng was stunned by her gaze.

The living room was so quiet that only the patter of raindrops hitting the air conditioner unit outside the window and the occasional rustling of Niu Niu flipping through Lego bricks upstairs could be heard, the two sounds intertwined.

Ouyang Qian did not back down.

Normally, she would take a step back in this situation and easily break the ice with a phrase like "Mr. Lin, you're overthinking it" or "Have you misunderstood something?" to bring the two of them back to a safe distance.

But tonight she didn't. She just looked at him, her lips slightly parted, as if she had something to say but didn't.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked first, her voice slightly hoarse, the teasing tone clearly lacking.

"You're looking at me too." Lin Feng's voice was very low.

"I only look at you because you're looking at me." She probably didn't think her words were very convincing, because she didn't look away, didn't stand up to create distance, and didn't even pull her hand away from his.

Lin Feng slowly raised his head.

The distance between the two people's faces shrank from more than ten centimeters to just a few centimeters, with their noses almost touching.

"Is it okay?" he asked in a very low voice.

Ouyang Qian looked at him, and the corners of her mouth slowly curved up.

What do you think?

After saying that, she took the initiative to kiss him.

The way she pressed her lips against mine was very direct, but you could clearly feel that she was inexperienced at kissing. After pressing her lips against mine, she didn't know what to do next, so she just stayed there for two seconds, as if waiting for some kind of reaction.

Then she loosened her grip slightly, her eyelashes trembled, as if she was puzzled as to why this action was different from what was shown on TV.

"Am I...?" She hadn't finished speaking.

Raymond Lam did not let the kiss end.

He raised his hand to support the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair, and gently pried open her lips with the tip of his tongue. Ouyang Qian's lips were softer than he had imagined, carrying the slight astringency of red wine and a hint of spiciness from the hot pot broth, blending together to create a unique flavor that belonged to this rainy night.

Ouyang Qian's breathing rhythm became disordered within seconds.

She let out a short, muffled hum, then raised her hand and grabbed the front of Lin Feng's shirt.

The taste of red wine exchanged on their tongues. Lin Feng could feel her trying to keep up with the rhythm. She was learning quickly, from passively receiving to actively responding. Her tongue began to try to respond to his movements, first with careful touches, and then with more forceful entanglement.

His breathing became increasingly rapid, his chest heaved more and more, and a muffled sound escaped from deep in his throat.

Lin Feng's right hand slid up her waist, touching the side of her ribs through the thin cotton fabric of her loungewear. He didn't go straight up, but paused there, feeling the rise and fall of her ribs with each breath. Her body was hotter than he had imagined, the heat transmitting through the cotton fabric to his palm.

"You're trembling," he whispered in her ear.

"I didn't." Ouyang Qian's voice trembled, but she still stubbornly insisted.

"You're clearly shaking."

"It's cold."

Lin Feng didn't expose her, and continued to move his right hand upwards.

My fingertips slipped under the hem of her loungewear and touched the skin on her side. Her skin was hot, much hotter than normal, as if a fire was burning inside her.

There wasn't an ounce of fat around her waist; the taut muscles were slightly tense beneath her fingertips, contracting and relaxing with each breath. Her fingers slid down her waistline to her back, finding the shallow groove along her spine, and then moving upwards along that groove. With her palm pressed against the upper part of her back, she could feel her shoulder blades sliding beneath her skin.

Ouyang Qian's body trembled slightly, and her hand slowly slid up the front of his shirt to hook around his neck.

Lin Feng placed his left hand on her lower back, while his right fingertips slowly traced the curve of her ribs towards the front. When his fingertips brushed against the ribcage, her breath hitched, and her grip on his neck tightened.

When his entire palm covered her, a soft touch wafted out from between his fingers, and Ouyang Qian did not resist his action.