Chapter 14 : Complex

Qi Yuanhan’s offer to share the bed was unfathomable; Ye Qinghe studied her, eyes brimming with doubt.
Emerging from the shower, Qi Yuanhan felt Ye Qinghe’s persistent gaze, unsettling her.
Blow-drying her hair, she turned, “If you don’t want to sleep, take the sofa.”
“No,” Ye Qinghe said, taking the towel from her. “Is Zhou Weichuan sick? Stealing your meds—doesn’t he know how vital they are?”

They rarely mentioned Zhou Weichuan; Qi Yuanhan was curious—Ye Qinghe, usually loyal to her role, was cursing him for her sake.
“He took them because he knows,” she said.
Ye Qinghe fumed, “No matter how desperate, touching your meds is low. At worst, it’s life-threatening. I’d never do that.”
Qi Yuanhan raised a brow, “You’re desperate too?”

Caught off-guard, Ye Qinghe grinned, “Don’t you know how desperate I am?”
Her flirtation resumed; Qi Yuanhan didn’t respond.
Ye Qinghe chuckled, dropping it, and headed to the bathroom with a bathrobe.
The bedroom’s spacious bed ensured distance between them.

Qi Yuanhan knew Ye Qinghe was unruly, but the urgency of tomorrow’s diving—and securing the Island Project—outweighed her antics.
As Ye Qinghe settled in, Qi Yuanhan asked, “So, how do you make me sleep fast?”
“Hm?” Ye Qinghe’s eyes flickered with confusion.
“You said you could cure my insomnia,” Qi Yuanhan pressed.

Ye Qinghe paused, then laughed, “The fastest way to sleep? Get your body excited—so exhausted it crashes.”
Qi Yuanhan realized—it was a flirtatious ploy, not a promise, and she’d fallen for it.
Irked, she moved to leave; Ye Qinghe grabbed her arm, “Why so rushed?”
Leaning closer, Qi Yuanhan braced for a kiss, dodging—but Ye Qinghe hummed softly by her ear.

A gentle melody, soothing and slow, like a lullaby.
She sang, unrecognizable in any language, tender and unhurried.
For an insomniac, nights were torturous, especially with the dreaded sea sounds.
Qi Yuanhan had braced for a sleepless night, ready to risk diving on no rest, but Ye Qinghe’s song worked.

Like an Arabian Nights tale, it wove magic, sparking hope for tomorrow, each note a plea to never end.
…

Morning at the Beach
The weather was mild; after breakfast, they played on the beach, donned wetsuits, and prepared to dive.
The outbound boat was ready, crew checking equipment—diving was risky, no room for error.
Qin Jialan eyed Qi Yuanhan, “Didn’t expect you to have such a great figure.”

Nearby, two teen girls, around seventeen, chimed, “Wow, huge chest!”
Their envious tone embarrassed Qi Yuanhan; she smiled it off.
Qin Jialan said, “My young cousins, here for summer break.”
The word cousins stung Qi Yuanhan, but she brushed it off, “No worries.”

Qin Jialan assigned multiple coaches to the boat; the girls grumbled, “We’re adults with certifications. Why can’t we swim solo? Coaches are boring.”
“Everyone pairs up,” Qin Jialan snapped. “Unknown waters—get lost and you’re done. Don’t gamble with your life.”
She double-checked the coaches’ tracking devices.
Qi Yuanhan’s boat had a seasoned male coach, rowing and briefing—avoid unknown species, steer clear of caves.

Eight boats launched, one carrying a research team.
Qi Yuanhan glanced back—no trace of Ye Qinghe.
Probably picking shells on the beach, she thought, lips curving.
Ye Qinghe had teased her for never collecting shells.

After her first sea trip, Qi Yuanhan spent a year mastering swimming, diving, and surfing—every perilous sea skill.
Sharing Qin Jialan’s boat, she steered talk to the Island Project.
Qin Jialan’s face soured, “You’re pushier than your husband.”
“The project’s lucrative for me,” Qi Yuanhan said.

Qin Jialan didn’t reply, though as the coach signaled to dive, Qi Yuanhan caught a mumbled phrase—inaudible.
The ocean world was captivating; the coach led them toward vibrant corals and colorful tropical fish.
Deeper, a sunken ship loomed.
Researchers with flashlights swam inside; the coach kept them outside.

A girl snuck toward the ship, trailing the researchers, but the coach yanked her back.
Qi Yuanhan watched when a hand grasped hers.
By instinct, she knew who.
Turning, she met Ye Qinghe’s eyes behind her dive mask.

Ye Qinghe beckoned her to follow.
The water muted body heat.
Her grip was loose, easily broken; Qi Yuanhan tried to swim back, but Ye Qinghe pursued, insisting on staying close.
Fish swarms glided by, their blank eyes oddly embarrassing under Qi Yuanhan’s gaze.

Near the eerie sunken ship, gurgling water and their breathing filled her ears.
Expecting Ye Qinghe to enter, Qi Yuanhan tensed, but Ye Qinghe raised her camera, snapping a selfie of them.
Chasing fish, their bodies sank deeper, swaying with waves.
Rare sunlight pierced the sea, a precious glow.

Qi Yuanhan swam swiftly, occasionally checking for Ye Qinghe, who snapped fish or her in turns.
A tourist couple swam nearby; Ye Qinghe mimicked them, sticking close.
Her heavy breathing echoed, rivaling a heartbeat—hiss.
Qi Yuanhan dodged her, snatching the camera.

The crisp footage revealed Ye Qinghe’s shots, including Qi Yuanhan’s dive—her body wrapped in light, sinking through ripples, bubbles rising, like a whale fall, a silent beauty.
As she scrolled, Ye Qinghe’s eyes blinked—a warning.
A sunken log loomed beside her; she nearly collided.

The underwater world turned treacherous.
Qi Yuanhan signaled to surface; Ye Qinghe trailed, her kicks shimmering in the light, like a fish’s tail.
A rubber boat approached, the crew asking, “Just you two?”
Qi Yuanhan nodded, climbing aboard, chilled, wiping down with a towel.

Ye Qinghe removed her mask, drenched hair clinging to her shoulders, water dripping.
Under sunlight, her cheeks glowed orange, radiantly beautiful.
Qi Yuanhan looked away, wiping her forehead carefully.
Half an hour later, others surfaced; the coach counted heads, and the yacht returned.

A coach scolded a girl, newly certified, who’d wandered too far despite warnings.
Unrepentant, she pouted.
Qi Yuanhan, chin propped, watched; Ye Qinghe blocked her view, flashing a smile.
Seabirds soared over reefs, dancing in sunlight’s shadow.

Onshore, some played volleyball.
Qi Yuanhan headed to shower and change, footsteps trailing her—steady, deliberate.
She entered the elevator; Ye Qinghe followed.
Swiping her keycard, Qi Yuanhan grabbed clothes for the bathroom, hearing the door open.

Assuming Ye Qinghe, she said, “The blue suitcase has clothes…”
Before finishing, Ye Qinghe pressed against her from behind, pushing her to the floor-to-ceiling window.
Qi Yuanhan’s back hit the glass; she glared, “What now?”
Ye Qinghe hushed her with a finger, close enough for Qi Yuanhan to feel her warmth.

Footsteps echoed outside—Zhou Weichuan and Fang Tianhan entered, discussing the Island Project.
Caught off-guard, Qi Yuanhan was pulled behind the curtains by Ye Qinghe.
“They’re talking useful stuff,” Ye Qinghe whispered. “Eavesdrop.”
She leaned closer, voice barely audible, “Focus—they’re coming in.”

No reminder needed; Qi Yuanhan felt Zhou Weichuan ease open the bedroom door.
Her breathing stilled, Ye Qinghe’s unwavering gaze locked on her.
In that moment, chaos and complexity collided.