Chapter 16 : Have fun

At dawn, Qi Yuanhan stood at the bed’s foot, tying her bikini’s shoulder straps, asking Ye Qinghe if she was coming.
Ye Qinghe, lounging against the headboard, quilt draped over her, rubbed her shoulder, sighing as if Qi Yuanhan’s kick had bruised her.
Last night’s kick was light—Qi Yuanhan had recoiled quickly, her frail act likely feigned.
Ye Qinghe played it up, but with no response, she rose, “I’m staying here today, hiding. How’s that?”

“Fine.”
Her absence was better—too reckless, keeping Qi Yuanhan on edge.
Ye Qinghe asked, “What’s your plan for the Island Project?”
If she hadn’t pulled Qi Yuanhan behind the curtain yesterday, she’d have missed the men’s talk.

Qi Yuanhan asked, “You knew their scheme early?”
Ye Qinghe shook her head, “No, but Zhou Weichuan’s desperate—he can’t hide things when pressed.”
Qi Yuanhan secured her straps.
Ye Qinghe added, “Okay, I knew a bit. A friend had ties to Fang Tianhan.”

Yesterday’s revelations left Qi Yuanhan repulsed by Fang Tianhan—his name now sickened her.
Ye Qinghe slipped off the bed, tugging Qi Yuanhan’s strap, “I know plenty. Want to dig into me?”
Qi Yuanhan’s blue bikini, bold with tied straps, accentuated her curves—a tug could undo it.

She swatted Ye Qinghe’s hand, “No thanks. Not interested.”
Ye Qinghe laughed.
Qi Yuanhan got why dramas caged temptresses—unleashed, they’d bewitch, stealing souls and wits.

On the Beach
Qin Jialan arrived first, on her phone, fuming, “Dream on! I won’t divorce—you bastard won’t get off easy!”
She hung up, lit a cigarette, inhaled sharply, and smiled, “Let’s go. The girls are still primping.”
Once gathered, they grabbed paddleboards and hit the sea.

Qi Yuanhan propelled her board, gliding slowly, while Qin Jialan’s group surfed nearby.
She wasn’t keen, glancing toward the hotel.
Qin Jialan, beside her, splashed water, “Why no Island Project talk today?”
Because the project was assured, Qi Yuanhan thought, staying silent.

Qin Jialan said, “Fang Tianhan wants a divorce.”
Days ago, Qi Yuanhan might’ve called it good news.
She paused, meeting Qin Jialan’s eyes, “I’m not like you. Zhou Weichuan doesn’t hurt me.”
“Hm?” Qin Jialan looked puzzled, then envious.

A wave crashed; the girls rode it, shouting, “Galang Sis, Yuanhan Sis, join us!”
Another wave rolled in; Qi Yuanhan stood, charging it, hair and clothes soaked.
Her curved stance blended mature allure with wild abandon.
After two frenzied runs, unlike the tireless teens, she sat cross-legged on her board, drifting.

A small boat passed; a bikini-clad woman in sunglasses snapped photos her way.
Qi Yuanhan paddled farther; the boat lazily followed.
She surfed again, checking—the boat still trailed her.
Onshore, she draped a sunscreen shirt, lounging on a chair, checking her phone—Shen YaoYu wanted photos.

She glared at the woman beside her, “Don’t you love hiding your prize?”
The woman blinked, “Huh?” Removing her sunglasses, she revealed a stranger’s face, “You… mistook me?”
Embarrassment surged through Qi Yuanhan like a backflow.

She’d assumed it was Ye Qinghe, posing stylishly while surfing, preening for the camera—now it felt vain, self-indulgent.
Sensing her fluster, the woman said, “I’m a photographer. Noticed you at sea—great figure, model material. Want a shoot?”
Qi Yuanhan, wary of cameras, said, “Maybe later. I’ve got urgent stuff—gotta go…”

She grabbed her things, hurrying off; Qin Jialan chased her with two ice creams, “Your face is red—eat these.”
Back at the hotel, the heat melted the ice cream; Qi Yuanhan stacked the boxes, swiped her keycard, and checked her face—not that hot—before entering.
Ye Qinghe, by the window, sipped coffee, “Finally back?” Spotting the ice cream, her eyes lit, “Brought these for me?”

Qi Yuanhan handed her one, popping the clear lid.
About to toss it, she caught Ye Qinghe licking the lid’s ice cream, her tongue curling delicately.
Ye Qinghe met her gaze, boldly, “Need me to lick yours?”
Qi Yuanhan asked, “Don’t you feel shame?”
Ye Qinghe retorted, “Look at me—do I need shame?”

Arguing with her was a headache—Qi Yuanhan fell silent, spooning the sweet, icy cream, rich with milk and crisp chocolate bits.
Ye Qinghe, eating, said, “Growing up poor, I couldn’t afford popsicles. Holidays, I’d lick one slowly.”
Qi Yuanhan nodded, “Popsicles are for summer.”
Ye Qinghe, caught, grinned, “Rude question—do rich girls like you lick yogurt lids?”

“We only lick lids,” Qi Yuanhan deadpanned.
“Fancy! I’ll send you yogurt next time,” Ye Qinghe teased.
Qi Yuanhan nearly bit her tongue.
Ye Qinghe sighed, “Stuck here’s dull.”

Qi Yuanhan, recalling her sea blunder, said, “You can play outside—no need to hide in the room.”
Ye Qinghe smirked, “Thought you liked obedient types?”
Qi Yuanhan snorted, “I don’t like any type—especially yours.”
The ice cream finished at dusk.

Qi Yuanhan gazed at the view, then retrieved her diving gear, finding a recorder.
She ejected its memory card, using the hotel’s computer.
Ye Qinghe, changing, leaned over, eyeing the upload bar, “Sending the recording to Qin Jialan? Not scared she’ll side with her husband?”
Qi Yuanhan, gambling, dodged the topic, “Just craving a thrill.”

“Fair,” Ye Qinghe said.