Chapter 71: This, Can Be Done

Stepping out of the farmhouse once more, the moon remained the same, and so did the earth. The chill of the outdoors showed no signs of abating, but Lynn realized this was the first time he was alone with the woman. Lynn felt a bit flustered—shouldn't it be the other way around?

"It's, uh, really cold in winter, isn't it?" Lynn turned his head to check if the woman was still following behind.

She had wrapped herself back in her shawl, appearing somewhat ghostly in the moonlight, but Lynn knew well the comfortable and youthful face hidden beneath.

"Yeah, very cold," she replied simply.

"Your hands must be freezing," Lynn ventured, his heart pounding as soon as the words left his mouth.

The woman fell silent for a moment, then spoke in a soft voice, barely audible, "When the war ends, will you stay in Germany?"

Lynn thought for a moment, then gave what he thought was the most appropriate response, "Where the heart is, there the person stays."

But the woman didn't respond further until they reached the stable. "Anyway, thank you very much for your help, especially for Caecilie," she said as they halted.

Lynn stopped in his tracks, turning to face her.

She too stopped, standing in front of him, still with her head bowed.

"Fate," Lynn uttered a relatively obscure German word, which he had looked up in the dictionary during soup-making sessions and German conversation lessons. 

The woman remained motionless.

With his right hand trembling slightly, Lynn was able to complete the instruction from his brain—to lift the shawl from the woman's head.

The gentle and meaningful action resembled a groom unveiling his bride on their wedding night.

The woman blinked, raising her head to meet Lynn's gaze.

Alone together, bathed in the moonlight, the hormones of masculinity and femininity rapidly exerted their respective effects in this environment.

Although Lynn had only suffered minor scratches over the past few days, he had stood within two meters of Death at least twenty times. Any slightly deviated shell, shrapnel, bullet, or even bayonet could have taken his life.

Having narrowly escaped death, should he continue to be bound by societal constraints?

He moved forward to embrace her, disregarding everything.

At the moment before their lips touched, the woman widened her eyes. But as their hot lips met and they felt each other's breath, her beautiful eyes closed.

Alone together, they embraced and kissed passionately.

This kind of romance belonged to the French and the Italians.

The impact of hormones left their brains almost blank. Lynn held the woman tightly, wanting to merge her into his body.

Her arms, reserved, remained around Lynn's waist, fearing that any excessive force might scare off the handsome young man before her.

As the cold lips warmed in their collision, melting the barriers of language, experience, and moral constraints, they melted into each other.

When Lynn's tongue tentatively tapped the woman's lips, she responded by opening them. Then, they were inseparable—two tongues, like amphibians mating on a rainy night, entwined tightly. Sometimes intense, sometimes gentle, they intertwined, inseparable.

After some preliminary warming up, Lynn decisively removed his gloves. His left hand moved up to firmly clasp her shoulder, pressing her chest against his. His right hand explored the most enticing curves, marveling at the elasticity hidden beneath seemingly thick clothing. If he hadn't met the bearded man in the bookstore, relying on his first impression, he would have missed out on this pleasure!

At the critical moment, the woman's hands remained obediently at Lynn's waist. Inaction was acquiescence. Lynn hugged his prey tightly, guiding her step by step towards the stable.

In battle, strategy preceded action, and it was the same in matters of love. Even without a long-term plan for eternity, when the opportunity arose, one must examine the environment with a calm mind and devise a strategy to maximize the commander's subjective role, adding weight to the victory of the battle.

If given the choice, the stable would not be the ideal place for passionate lovemaking, but now, apart from the farmhouse, the woods, and the fields, there was only this dilapidated stable. Lifting the heavy wooden beam temporarily seemed safe, but it was actually the most unsafe—exerting precious energy, one might be crushed upon re-entry, the narrow space inside might not be conducive to piston movements, and more fatally, a momentary separation might cool the woman's ardor, leading to shyness or even withdrawal.

Calculating all this quickly in his mind, Lynn led the woman to the side of the stable, using his body's advantage to guide her until her back was facing the stable. Then, with the man advancing and the woman retreating, they moved until they reached the position of the thick wooden beam. Lynn used his hands to protect the woman's upper body, allowing her to sit down smoothly against the beam without falling backward.

Throughout this process of movement, the woman cooperated, allowing Lynn to initiate a substantial attack.