During The Blizzard (Amidst A Snowstorm Of Love)

Canto 62: Misunderstanding (2)

"Sometimes the strongest relationships are the ones that go through the toughest times because those battles forge a bond that can't be broken." - Anonymous

Translator: Wuxia Studio, Editor: J.C Forester (Mrphysit)

- - - -

Lin Yiyang kissed her with a spark of anger, the first time their lips had met like this. When he pulled away, his voice rough, he asked, "Do you miss me, or do you just want to comfort me?"

Yin Guo shrank back, the echo of her sister's words still ringing in her ears. Lin Yiyang's frustrated sigh did little to calm the panic rising in her chest. He turned away, rummaging through the trunk. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

"Nothing, I'm looking for you," she mumbled, mirroring his search with feigned interest.

He stopped, his gaze sharp. "Go up if you have nothing to do. I'm leaving." His voice was laced with stubbornness. "My brother lives in another province, it's too late to drive back. The kid needs his sleep."

Yin Guo stared at him, the anger simmering in his reddened eyes unmistakable. Just as she turned to leave, his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. He leaned in again, but she darted away.

"You've smoked," she blurted, the acrid scent clinging to him a sudden turn-off.

Lin Yiyang, his jaw clenched tight, a muscle throbbing near his temple, reached behind her back. He clasped her hands together, effectively trapping her. With his free hand, he dug into his pocket, pulling out a dark chocolate bar.

"Wait," he rasped, his eyes locked on hers.

He tore open the wrapper with his teeth, shoving a piece of chocolate into his mouth...

"Chocolate doesn't work either, people can't see." She cast a worried glance upwards. There were people in the apartment above, their presence a constant reminder of their precarious situation.

Lin Yiyang slowed but didn't stop, shoving the chocolate into his mouth with each deliberate step. He didn't attempt another kiss, but the grip on her wrist tightened, a painful reminder of her captivity.

"It hurts," Yin Guo gasped, the words laced with real pain.

The pressure abruptly vanished. Lin Yiyang devoured the rest of the chocolate, the crinkling of the wrapper the only sound in the tense silence. He balled it up, a dark echo of his mood, and tossed it onto the pile of cigarette butts. He turned back to the trunk, rummaging through its depths.

Yin Guo, unsure of what to do, mimicked his actions, a futile attempt to mask her growing unease. She stole a glance at him. He didn't speak, and with a surge of renewed anger, she turned and walked away.

"Little Guo'er," his voice called out from behind.

She wanted to stop, the familiar nickname a flicker of warmth amidst the storm of emotions. But anger held her captive.

"Yin Guo, stop for me!" His voice deepened, a command she couldn't ignore.

Silence. It was a better response than unleashing the torrent of emotions swirling within her.

Lin Yiyang stood frozen by the back of the vehicle. He couldn't call out again, couldn't chase after her. Panic gnawed at him. He had found a hidden treasure in the trunk a bag of plump, red cherries, their skin so delicate it could be torn with a finger. He'd washed them meticulously, a small offering of peace. But peace seemed as distant as the stars above.