James's POV:
Who is she and why does she look so similar to my master?
The woman sitting on Ruofei's desk is beautiful—I'll give her that.
Long white hair, elegant features, the kind of confident posture that speaks of good breeding and better training.
But what catches my attention is the resemblance. The same sharp cheekbones, the same aristocratic bearing.
And the way the young master is looking at her.
No. No, no, no.
This can't be happening. Boss specifically told me to watch over him, to keep him safe, to make sure no one takes advantage of the situation.
And here's this woman, sitting on his desk like she owns the place, and the young master is looking at her like—
Boss is going to kill me.
I don't want to die yet. I'm too young, too handsome, and I haven't even gotten my Christmas bonus.
"James, do you mind waiting outside?" Ruofei's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. He doesn't even look at me, his eyes still fixed on the woman.
He's kicking me out? For HER ?
I keep my expression neutral, but internally I'm already composing my resignation letter. Or my will. Whichever Boss requires after he finds out I let some woman steal his—
"Oh, come on. You don't need to kick him out." The woman's smile is friendly, genuine. "I'm sure there wouldn't be any problem if he listened in."
Ruofei finally looks back at me, and I make sure to smile at her. A nice, pleasant, absolutely-not-plotting-her-demise smile.
But I know my eyes give me away. I can feel the anger simmering there, the possessive protectiveness that Boss instilled in all of us regarding the young master.
Ruofei's own smile doesn't reach his eyes as he turns back to the woman. He knows. Of course he knows—the man is terrifyingly perceptive.
"So, how was your life abroad, sister?"
The word hits me like a physical blow.
Sister?
SISTER?!
I must have made a sound—or a face—because Ruofei turns to look at me again, expression perfectly innocent. "What happened, James? Can't I even talk with my sister?"
I force my professional mask back into place, though it feels like it's cracking at the edges. "Well, I'm sorry, but I think you shouldn't call everyone sister or brother, young master."
It's a weak deflection and I know it.
The woman laughs. "In that case, how should he call his biological sister other way than sister? I don't think he'll call me mum, though that would be fun. Can you imagine me coming home and hearing him say, 'Hi, mum. Welcome back.'? It would be a hilarious prank."
Biological sister.
Oh god.
"What do you mean by that? Young master?" The question comes out strangled.
Ruofei actually giggles—giggles—looking at my expression. "Let me introduce her to you properly. This is my sister, Lexin, and she just came back from abroad. I missed her very much, so I wanted to see her as soon as possible." He tilts his head, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Is this reply good enough, my dear bodyguard?"
Ruofei's POV:
He looks so funny.
James's expression is somewhere between mortified and bewildered, and it's taking every ounce of self-control not to burst out laughing. I press my hand over my mouth, forcing myself to maintain some semblance of dignity.
My reputation as the cold-blooded CEO of Huang Group would be over if anyone saw me like this.
"Are you telling me that you are siblings?" James asks, still looking like someone hit him over the head.
"What did you think?" I can't resist needling him a bit more. "That we were boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"Of course!" James throws his hands up. "I understand that it's normal for siblings to tease each other, but it's not normal that you're flirting with each other! I'm leaving before I go crazy."
He storms out, and I catch the 'what the fuck' expression on his face as he goes.
The moment the door closes, Lexin turns to me, her playful demeanor shifting into something more serious. More alpha. "I remember you wrote something about needing to discuss something in private. What is it?"
The levity drains out of the room.
I move to my desk chair and sit, suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me again. The missing hours. The fragmented memories. The strange, hollow ache in my chest that has nothing to do with physical pain.
"Last night I slept with someone," I say quietly, keeping my eyes on the desk. "But I don't know who, because I was drugged."
"Are you kidding me!?" Lexin's voice goes sharp with concern and anger. "Fuck. I understand why you wanted to talk in private now." She moves closer, her alpha instincts clearly kicking in—protective, ready to hunt down whoever hurt her family.
"Is there anything you remember about the person you spent the night with? Even the slightest bit of information could help."
I close my eyes, trying to grasp at the fragments floating just out of reach.
Heat. Hands on my skin. A voice calling me princess. The overwhelming sense of safety, of being wanted, of—
And then, clear as crystal: a mark. Small and elegant, behind an ear.
"The only thing I know is that he's a male dominant alpha." I pause, the next detail feeling both significant and frustratingly incomplete. "And that he has a tattoo of a moon behind his ear."
The words hang in the air between us.
A moon tattoo. The Luo family mark, just as the Huang family has the sun.
I know this. Logically, I know what it means. But my mind can't—won't—make the connection. There are dozens of people in the Luo family. It could be any of them.
But it wasn't, something whispers in the back of my mind. You know it wasn't.
I ignore that voice. I have to.
Lexin is quiet for a long moment, and when I look up, I can see her processing, calculating. Her expression is carefully neutral, but I know my sister. She's figured something out.
"You probably don't want me to tell brother, mum, and dad, right?" she says finally.
"If I wanted to tell them, I would have already done it." I lean back in my chair. "Anyway, I remember you mentioning a friend abroad who helped you investigate someone. Could you give me his contact information?"
"Why do you need that?" But she's already pulling out her phone, already knowing the answer.
"I need to find the person who slept with me." I keep my voice level, professional. Like this is just another business problem to solve.
"Also, please don't tell anyone. Not even James. He uses an English name, and I think he has something to do with L Group, even though he says otherwise."
Lexin's fingers pause over her phone screen.
"Okay." She resumes typing, making notes. "Anything else?"
"Don't get into trouble." The words come out softer than I intend. "I know the one who usually makes problems is older brother, but still. Please be careful and don't let anyone find out your identity."
She looks up, and for a moment, her expression softens. "Don't worry, I'll be careful." She pockets her phone. "I have some work to do, so for now, bye."
She heads for the door, then pauses with her hand on the handle. "Ruofei?"
"Mm?"
"You don't seem..." She chooses her words
carefully. "Upset. About what happened."
My hand stills on the desk.
She's right. I should be furious. Violated. Terrified about the implications, about who might know, about what this could mean for my position.
But I'm not.
There's just this strange, aching longing in my chest. Like I've lost something precious and I'm desperately trying to find it again. Like my heart knows something my mind doesn't.
"I'll process it later," I say, which isn't really an answer.
Lexin studies me for another moment, then nods and leaves.
The moment James sees her exit, he practically bursts back into the office, looking genuinely angry now.
"What were you two talking about for so long?"
He's practically vibrating with frustration. "Did you totally forget that I was waiting outside? What do you even take me for? A guard dog or something?"
I have to physically press my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.
He's so obvious. Whoever sent him—and I'm increasingly certain it was someone from L Group, possibly Qingyue himself—didn't exactly send their most subtle operative.
I take a few deep breaths and compose myself. "The conversation had nothing to do with you, so it's normal that I forgot about you."
James's expression suggests I've just mortally wounded him.
I glance away, trying to place why he seems so familiar. Have I seen him somewhere before? In some report, maybe, or—
Don't care. I dismiss the thought.
"It's already 17:45 and I get off work at 18:00." I check my watch. "Please tell Andy to prepare coffee for me. He can leave after that."
"Okay, I will tell him." James pauses. "Anything else?"
I look back at him, genuinely confused by the question. Didn't I just say everything clearly?
"No, nothing else."
Then, because some part of me feels slightly guilty for tormenting him: "By the way, if you're thirsty, you can make yourself a cup of coffee or tea. Anything you prefer."
"Thank you." The words are stiff, formal, and he leaves quickly.
I lean back in my chair, finally alone.
"Well, I must say that he's kind of interesting," I murmur to the empty office. "But I swear, if he has something to do with Qingyue..."
If he has something to do with Qingyue.
The name sends an unexpected flutter through my chest. I press my hand over my heart, confused by the reaction.
The moon tattoo. A male dominant alpha. The Luo family mark.
It couldn't have been him, I tell myself firmly. I would remember if it was Qingyue. Wouldn't I?
But even as I think it, that voice in the back of my mind whispers again: Would you? Or is that exactly what you want to remember but can't?
I close my eyes, trying once more to grasp at those elusive memories.
Heat. Safety. Pleasure so intense it bordered on overwhelming. And a voice—low, possessive, tender—calling me princess.
You're mine, princess.
My eyes snap open, heart racing.
Where did that come from? Was it a memory? Or just wishful thinking?
Qingyue, my heart whispers. It was Qingyue.
You don't know that, my mind argues back. You can't know that.
But the longing in my chest intensifies, and I find myself reaching for my phone before I consciously decide to.
His contact is still there. Still saved under a formal "Luo Qingyue - L Group" that doesn't reflect the three years of complicated history between us.
My thumb hovers over the call button.
What would I even say? 'Hi, I think we might have slept together last night but I don't remember, was it you?'
I set the phone down.
No. I need to know for certain before I do anything.
Need to have proof, evidence, something concrete.
Because if it was him...
If it was Qingyue...
Then what? the rational part of my mind demands. He's still your enemy. His family and yours have been at war for generations. Even if you—even if you want—
I cut off that line of thinking before it can finish.
The coffee Andy brings is exactly how I like it, and I lose myself in work for the remaining fifteen minutes, pushing away thoughts of missing memories and moon tattoos and the strange conviction that I've lost something infinitely precious.
Something I might never get back.