Chapter 71: A Drunken Fumble**
The clock's hands inched past midnight, though Fu Junyao had no idea what time it was. Her head throbbed, and a urgent need to pee jolted her from a hazy sleep. Stumbling out of Ye Xiwen's bedroom, she squinted through the darkness—only the faint glow of streetlights seeped through the curtains, outlining the living room furniture in blurry shadows.
She'd barely taken three steps when her foot caught on something soft. With a yelp, she lost her balance, tumbling forward.
*Thud.*
The impact was muffled, not the hard crack of hitting the floor. Instead, she landed on something warm and… *breathing*. It shifted beneath her, a low groan escaping from whatever (or whoever) it was.
Fu Junyao, still half-drunk, blinked blearily. Her hands patted the surface beneath her—broad shoulders, a firm chest, a slow, steady rise and fall. It was a man. But her foggy brain couldn't process that yet.
"Wh-what's this?" she mumbled, her tongue thick. "Wenwen jie… when did you get a… a big dog? I didn't know you liked pets…" She giggled, a tipsy, silly sound, and nuzzled her face into the "fur"—which felt suspiciously like a human neck, warm and stubbly.
Beneath her, Wu Yifan stirred. He'd rolled off the couch hours ago, too drunk to care, and passed out on the floor. Now, the weight of a woman pressing into him jolted him awake—sort of. His eyes fluttered open, but all he saw was a blurry figure, hair cascading over his chest, a sweet, floral scent mixing with the lingering smell of alcohol.
*A woman?*
He was a man, after all—drunk, yes, but still a man. The feel of her body against his, soft curves pressing into his bare torso (when had he taken his shirt off?), sent a jolt of heat through him. He felt himself hardening, a primal, unbidden reaction.
Fu Junyao, still oblivious, shifted her weight. Something poked her thigh—firm, warm, impossible to ignore. "Hmm… what's that? So uncomfortable…" She reached down, her fingers brushing against it.
Wu Yifan's breath hitched. *Oh God.*
"D-don't move that!" he slurred, grabbing her wrist. His voice was rough, strained.
Fu Junyao froze. The fog in her brain cleared a little. That voice… it wasn't a dog. It was…
She lifted her head, squinting. The streetlight caught his face—angled jaw, messy hair, lips parted as he panted.
*Wu Yifan?!*
Her eyes widened. Her hand was still wrapped around… *Oh my God.*
She yanked it back like she'd touched a hot stove, but in her fluster, she didn't pull away. Instead, she found herself clinging to him, her chest heaving. The alcohol in her system, the feel of his skin against hers, the way his eyes darkened as he stared up at her… it all short-circuited her brain.
"Y-you…" she stammered, but no other words came.
Wu Yifan's gaze dropped to her lips, then to the neckline of her thin nightgown, which had slipped to reveal a sliver of skin. He swallowed hard. "Stop… looking at me like that," he muttered, but his hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer.
Fu Junyao should've screamed. She should've kicked him. But her body betrayed her—she leaned in, her breath mingling with his. When his lips crashed into hers, she didn't resist.
It was messy, clumsy, fueled by wine and confusion. His tongue pried hers open, and she whimpered, her fingers tangling in his hair. He rolled them over, pinning her to the floor, his weight a delicious pressure. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and for a moment, neither thought—they just *felt*.
…
The next morning, sunlight sliced through the curtains, landing directly on Wu Yifan's face. He jolted awake, his head pounding like a drum.
Wait.
He wasn't on the floor anymore. He was… on top of someone.
He looked down.
Fu Junyao stared back, her eyes wide as saucers. Her hair was wild, her lips swollen, her nightgown askew. One of his hands was still cupping her breast.
*Oh. Oh no.*
"AHHH!"
Both screamed at once.
Fu Junyao shoved him off, scrambling to her feet. Wu Yifan toppled onto the floor, his face burning. He grabbed a nearby throw pillow, covering his lap—*way* too late.
"What the hell?!" Fu Junyao shrieked, yanking her nightgown closed. Her cheeks were scarlet, her hands trembling. "You… you *pervert*! I'll have you arrested for assault!"
Wu Yifan held up his hands, panic-stricken. "It wasn't me! You fell on me—remember? You were drunk, I was drunk… it was an accident!"
"An accident?!" She pointed at his disheveled state, then at hers. "Does this look like an accident?!"
She marched over, raised her hand, and—*slap*—cracked him across the cheek. The sound echoed in the quiet room.
Wu Yifan touched his stinging face, stunned. "I said I'm sorry!"
"Sorry doesn't fix this!" she yelled, but her voice wavered. Her eyes glistened—with anger, yes, but something else too. Humiliation? Regret?
Before he could reply, a door creaked open. Ye Xiwen stumbled out, yawning, wearing a pink silk robe. Her hair was messy, her eyes half-closed—until she saw the scene in front of her.
Wu Yifan, shirtless, on the floor. Fu Junyao, nightgown askew, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing. The throw pillow on the floor. The… *tension*.
Ye Xiwen's mouth dropped open. "Wh-what's going on?!"
Fu Junyao's face paled. *Wenwen jie saw.* She'd never live this down. Without a word, she spun around and bolted into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
Wu Yifan scrambled to his feet, grabbing his shirt from the couch and pulling it on. "It's not what it looks like!" he blurted.
Ye Xiwen raised an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on his red cheek. "Really? Because it looks like you two…," she trailed off, not sure how to finish.
Before Wu Yifan could explain, the bathroom door flew open. Fu Junyao marched out, her hair combed, her face set in a scowl. She was clutching a toothbrush, toothpaste foam still on her lips. "He tried to take advantage of me!" she declared, pointing at Wu Yifan. "Arrest him, Wenwen jie! Throw him in jail!"
Wu Yifan gaped. "Take advantage of you? You were the one—"
"Shut up!" Fu Junyao snapped.
Ye Xiwen held up her hands, sighing. "Both of you, stop. Junyao, you're a police officer—you know better than to throw accusations around. Yifan, you're hungover—sit down before you fall over."
Wu Yifan grumbled but obeyed, slumping onto the couch.
Fu Junyao crossed her arms, still fuming. "He called me a dog! And then he—" She cut herself off, cheeks flushing.
Ye Xiwen's eyes widened. *A dog?*
Wu Yifan winced. "I was drunk! You said it yourself—you thought I was a dog!"
"I did not!"
"You did too!"
"Enough!" Ye Xiwen clapped her hands. "It was a mistake. A *drunken* mistake. Now, Junyao, go get dressed. Yifan, make coffee. We'll talk about this… when everyone's sober."
Fu Junyao opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. She shot Wu Yifan one last withering look and stomped into the bedroom.
Wu Yifan sighed, dragging himself to the kitchen. As he filled the coffee pot, he replayed the night in his head—her lips, her body, the way she'd clung to him. Guilt twisted in his gut.
*What the hell did I do?*
Ye Xiwen followed him, leaning against the counter. "You really don't remember anything?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. "Bits and pieces. Her falling. Us… kissing. That's it." He paused, then added, "I'm sorry, Xiwen. I didn't mean to—"
"I know," she said, cutting him off. "But you should apologize to her. Properly. When she's ready."
He nodded, staring at the coffee bubbling in the pot.
Outside, the sun rose higher, casting golden light through the windows. But in that kitchen, the air felt thick with awkwardness— and unspoken questions.
What *had* happened last night?
And more importantly…
How would they ever move past it?