Kasahara Asuka snorted disdainfully through her nose.
"Infidelity," said Hoshimi Rinko.
"The meat’s ready..." Fujiwara Reya loudly announced.
"Ah, I’m so hungry." Mrs. Kasahara eagerly crawled over, grabbing a piece of beef with her fingers, dipping it into the sauce, and then stuffing it into her mouth.
The satisfaction of eating immediately surged forth.
"Delicious, delicious!" She was still in her revealing bikini, grabbing another piece of beef with her fingers and stuffing it into her mouth in large bites. Her posture was quite ungainly, her collarbone messy and covered in sand.
Eating the second piece of meat, she licked the grease from her fingers, marveling happily.
"Cooked so tenderly, dipped in sauce, it’s absolutely the best on earth."
"Fujiwara, how about it, let your sister feed you."
"Those two are about to kill me." Fujiwara Reya pointed at the girls discussing a murder plan over there.
"Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got you covered, in this regard, women..." Mrs. Kasahara slightly tilted her head, a gentle smile appearing on her face, as if intentionally making people anxious with her silence.
The eager listeners seemed hooked by her charm, slightly turning their heads. At this moment, in the lingering afterglow of the sun that refused to set, the alluring, beautiful young director slightly parted her legs, and in that fleeting instance, everyone caught a glimpse of the visionary ’ultimate happiness’. In that philosophical vision, the sunset’s afterglow was like a net being drawn up, with a golden fish energetically jumping at the bottom, its scales gleaming and flashing.
"Director, tone it down a bit." Fujiwara Reya said with a headache.
Mrs. Kasahara turned around, smiling charmingly, "When women play with fire, they do it with ease."
When she spoke of playing with fire, there was no emotion or shyness in her manner, making it almost impossible for the listener to discern the truth. She was particularly skilled at secretive activities.
From her conduct, Fujiwara Reya knew she had already recognized that her little daughter’s attitude toward seniors had developed cracks.
After dinner, the sky was already full of stars.
People left the beach, returned to the cabin, each taking a bath and changing clothes.
After showering, Fujiwara Reya came out and saw someone on the sofa. Without turning on the light, the cabin was dimly lit by the starlight, the person lay sideways, hand on forehead, long hair hanging down covering half of the face, making it hard to tell who it was at first glance.
Even before approaching, a light fragrance reached him before a name did.
Like night walking on a path, smelling the fragrance before seeing the flowers.
Fujiwara Reya wished this moment’s fragrance could last forever.
Because, only in such moments, could a woman be a symbol, rather than a particular person with a specific name. It was precisely because of the unspoken name, and the tacit understanding in the suggestion, that it resembled relying on a hidden forbidden pillar, revealing a dangerously alluring scent in the dark. Only at such times could a woman be more dreamlike than reality, instilling stronger exhilaration than when clear.
Upon hearing footsteps, she turned her head to look over.
Under the weak light, the delicate, beautiful, stunning face partly obscured by disheveled long hair was revealed—it was Mrs. Kasahara.
"Please pour me a glass of wine," she said lazily, "with ice."
"One moment, Miss Himeko." Fujiwara Reya raked his wet hair with his fingers, turned on the cabin light, and walked to the bar to prepare the wine.
"Turn on the music too."
Mrs. Kasahara walked over, sitting on a high stool beside the bar.
Fujiwara Reya turned on the sound system, playing Liszt’s piano pieces, poured her a wine glass, and added ice cubes.
"Thank you." Mrs. Kasahara elegantly expressed her gratitude, her slender fingers picking up the wine glass, sipping slowly. The bright light fell on her, her sexy nightdress exposing a large area of tender, slender skin and soft texture; the face half-covered by her hair, lips slightly parted, sipping the wine.
Her age was truly indiscernible, one could only say it varied between 20-40, any number would fit just right.
After finishing the first glass, Mrs. Kasahara asked for a second.
She rested her elbow on the tabletop, cupping her face, listening to Liszt’s music, sipping the wine in small gulps, occasionally casting an ambiguous glance towards Fujiwara Reya. Fujiwara Reya could genuinely sense the meaning in her gaze but dared not take the bait casually.
In matters of emotions, boldness aside, Fujiwara Reya maintained his sense of propriety.
He’d just been with the daughter, and now flirting with the mother, seeking death shouldn’t be in such a hurry.
"Ah, you coward..." Mrs. Kasahara murmured discontentedly.
She looked stunningly beautiful at the moment, breathtakingly so.
The self-important air usually around her had dissipated, relaxed naturally to blend completely into the air. Seeing Fujiwara Reya uninterested in responding to her flirtations, she idly tousled her hair, occasionally touching her nose tip, running her fingers gently over her raised chest.
The fragrance of her perfume lingered faintly.
Fujiwara Reya inhaled the intoxicating aroma, intently watching her movements from the corner of his eye.
After finishing the second glass, Mrs. Kasahara asked for a third, and during the pause while Fujiwara was pouring, she spoke, "Xiangxiang is really angry."
"Is the Director here to judge me?"
"Calling me Director, sounds so distant."
"Afraid you wouldn’t like it if I called you sister."
"I wouldn’t mind, would love it immensely." Mrs. Kasahara observed his actions, giving a slight smile. Her smile was perfect, gathering charming, fine lines at the corners of her eyes. The allure of her smile was beyond comparison to that of a young, inexperienced girl.