Qian Meng walked over to the bed and sat down at the end and unfolded the paper. "I am glad that your love for me is up there with your codes, Mr. Mo. I am honored. If you want to show your journal to me, I don't mind. Until that day comes, I will hold onto this piece of paper like it is my lifeline."

  He came over and stopped in front of where she sat, crouching down so that he was looking up at her through his long lashes. Her eyes were on the paper, rereading it, but she could feel him watching her. Sure enough, when she looked at him, his eyes were locked on her.

  "Why are you staring at me?"

  He gleamed with delight. "When I wrote that, I had no intention of giving it to you. But when we were in Hong Kong, I realized that your insecurities about love and the genuineness of our relationship ran deeper than I had previously thought. And I decided that you should read it. I just wanted to give you some insight into my feelings because it scared me that you would bottle up everything again."

  Qian Meng smiled at him softly. "I know you didn't write this to give to me. That is why it means so much. This is raw and uncensored. I will cherish this forever. It is the best gift you could have given me. All those material things, I can buy them myself. But this… only you can give it to me," she swore. It was a promise that she could never accept anything like that from any other person on the planet.

  Mo Qingchen hummed. "Maybe I am better at verbalizing my feelings to myself than I am to you."

  She shook her head in disbelief. "The idea of you not knowing what to say is ridiculous. You are constantly saying things that make my heart skip multiple times in a single strike!"

  He sucked in a shocked breath. "You say things that to that to me, too, Qian Meng. You just don't realize it."

  "Yeah?" she snorted in disbelief. "What was the last thing I said to you that made your heart flutter?" she asked in challenge, sure that he was bluffing.

  "In the car, you said all you wanted was me," he responded without hesitation. He knew his answer immediately and Qian Meng was left gaping at him.

  "Oh," she responded stupidly, not knowing what else to say at that moment. She was blushing.

  "Yeah. Oh." He smirked knowingly. "You're pretty adorable when you are embarrassed. Did you know that?"

  "I'm not embarrassed," she defended quickly.

  "Okay." He grinned. His eyes changed as they always did during their most intimate moments. In his day-to-day life, he was stern. His black eyes were pools of constant calculation and purpose. However, with her, he showed a side reserved only for her.

  His eyes seemed to lighten and soften. They sparkled like the clear night sky. When he looked at her, in quiet and personal moments like these, there was a different kind of life in them.

  They dazzled her.

  "What are you staring at now?" she asked after several moments.

  "My whole life."

  Qian meng gawked at him and then she inhaled sharply.

  "You worry about not having words to express yourself? Are you serious? You say these perfect things all the time. I feel like…"

  "What?" he coaxed.

  "Like I can't breathe," she admitted with a sigh and a shake of her head. "You take my breath away. It's so corny to say out loud, but I think I am going to have a heart attack."

  He drew circles on her knee. "That's an irony." She looked at him in confusion. "I feel like I can't breathe when you are not around."

  She bit her lip to stop herself from bursting out into laughter.

  "Stop it! When did we become the kind of people who fly across the country to be with each other?"

  He shrugged.

  "They say love makes you do crazy things."

  "Love," she muttered, stretching the word out. "What did you tell your father about the surprise flight arrangement?" Qian Meng was curious.

  Mo Qingchen hated talking to his father, but for her, he had called him and arranged for a flight.

  "I told him that you had urgent business and he gave me a lecture on not letting women run wild and take control of the household." He rolled his eyes. "I am starting to wonder what my mother sees in the man to stay with him. I don't understand this love." He made a face of pure disgust.

  "Still don't like the word?" she asked.

  "It has to do with how my father painted it. But now, I see that it is so different. I still can't confine my emotions to petty feelings like he does. I do not condone his definition of something so pure."

  "Damn. How do you do it every time? Articulate what you feel?"

  He shook his head. "If you think I am doing a good job at expressing my feelings, you have no idea the magnitude of my feelings for you. Because I feel like I haven't even been able to scratch the surface of what I feel for you."

  She was tired of talking because they were starting to repeat themselves. So, she chose the form of communication they were good at.

  "Show me then."

  "Is that what you need?" he asked slowly.

  "Yes."

  He gently pried the piece of paper out from her fingers and placed it on the table beside him. He stood, no longer crouching in front of her, but bent over her as she sat on the bed. She breathed in deeply as she looked up at him, her body buzzing with the need to press against him.

  "I am yours," he vowed, reminding her as his lips descended.

  And then he kissed her. His bottom lip covered hers as he formed a kiss and she breathed him in.