Chapter 87: Stirrings of Affection**
Wu Yifan had feelings for Ye Xiwen—genuine, heartfelt feelings—but they were worlds apart from Ouyang Hai's. Ouyang Hai resorted to coercion, to underhanded tricks to force her into submission. Wu Yifan, though? He wanted to win her heart, slowly and sincerely, without pretense.
He held her tightly, feeling the faint tremors still rippling through her body—remnants of the fear that had gripped her moments earlier. He knew the shock of Ouyang Hai's assault had left her reeling, her composure shattered. His voice softened, gentle as a whisper. "I could tell something was wrong the second you hesitated to call him. That man screamed trouble. Why risk it?"
It took a long while for Ye Xiwen's racing heart to calm. She stayed in his embrace, surprisingly at ease. There was a sense of safety in his arms, a quiet strength that made her feel as if even the sky crashing down wouldn't matter. She'd tried to pull away at first, but something kept her there—a warmth she hadn't felt in ages. She bit her lower lip, her voice small and shaky. "I couldn't let Infinity lose. Not this time."
Wu Yifan sighed, shaking his head. "Silly woman. Do you really think winning like that—trading yourself for a victory—would've made you happy? Infinity can be rebuilt. But once that bastard hurt you… some things can never be undone. You can't fix a broken spirit with bricks and mortar."
Ye Xiwen had grappled with that very dilemma, her mind a whirlwind of doubt. Infinity was her life's work—every late night, every tough call, every hard-earned profit bore her mark. But to surrender her innocence, her dignity, for it? The thought made her sick. Wu Yifan was right. A bar could rise from the ashes, but a violated heart? Those scars ran too deep. She'd dreamed of giving herself to someone she loved, of that first time being tender and meaningful, not a transaction. She brushed away the last of her tears, her voice steadying. "Thank you, Wu Yifan. Truly."
"Just give me a raise, and we'll call it square." He grinned, aiming to lighten the mood.
"Dream on. A raise for you? Not in this lifetime." Ye Xiwen laughed, the sound bright and clear, like wind chimes on a summer day.
"What? I'm a hero! Rescued a damsel in distress! More heroic than that red-underwear superhero—you're telling me that's not worth a little extra cash?" He feigned outrage, clutching his chest dramatically.
"A hero? Please." She scoffed, but her eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Oh, really? Then let's step out. Let Ouyang Hai finish what he started. See if you still think I'm no hero."
"You—!" She blushed, heat creeping up her neck. In front of everyone else, she was the unflappable President Ye, sharp and decisive. But here, with him, she felt like a flustered schoolgirl. Just as she opened her mouth to retort, she froze.
Fu Junyao stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her lips twisted in a pout that reeked of jealousy. "Well, well. Look at you two. Too busy canoodling to notice the rest of us? How rude." Her tone was sharp, laced with a bitterness that tasted distinctly of envy.
"Junyao! I—we weren't—" Ye Xiwen stammered, pulling away from Wu Yifan as if burned.
"Right. 'Weren't.'" Wu Yifan echoed, though his arm stayed slung around Ye Xiwen's waist, as if daring Fu Junyao to object.
"Please. You're practically glued together. Ouyang Hai and you—two peas in a pod." Fu Junyao nodded at his hand, her nose wrinkling in disdain.
"Hey! I'm a *good* guy." Wu Yifan insisted.
"A 'good guy'? With quotation marks, right?" She哼ed.
"That's just slander. Jealousy, plain and simple."
"Jealous? Of *you*?" Fu Junyao yelped, as if he'd accused her of a crime. "You're a *security guard*. What's there to envy?"
"Plenty. I'm a guy—can chase women openly. You? No one's lining up to court you. Must sting." He grinned, unrepentant.
"Go to hell! Wenwen jie, look at him!" Fu Junyao stamped her foot, cheeks flushing. She'd never live down the memory of that night at Ye Xiwen's—of breathless whispers, of skin against skin—flooding her mind. Heat coiled in her stomach, making her knees weak. She fled, slamming the door behind her.
Ye Xiwen sighed, shaking her head. "Must you two bicker like children? The competition's almost here, and I'm a wreck. Junyao's just… she doesn't mean it. She knows you're not like Ouyang Hai."
Fu Junyao poked her head back in, eyes wide. "Wenwen jie! You're taking his side now? After two minutes of heroics? You fold that easy?"
"I'm being *reasonable*," Ye Xiwen said, blushing deeper.
"Reasonable? More like star-struck. I'm disappointed." Fu Junyao fake-cried, hand to her forehead like a melodramatic actress.
Ye Xiwen glanced down, noticing Wu Yifan's hands still lingering near her stomach. She swatted them away, her cheeks hot, then looked at Ouyang Hai's unconscious form on the floor. Another sigh escaped her.
"Don't worry. We won't lose the competition." Wu Yifan sniffed his fingers, where her perfume still lingered—soft, clean, making his heart race. He grinned, half-smitten.
"We won't lose?" Ye Xiwen raised an eyebrow, then caught him sniffing his hands. Memories of their embrace, of his protectiveness, made her pulse quicken. She rolled her eyes, but there was no bite in it.
"Guaranteed." Song Mingjie snickered, rubbing his hands together like he knew a secret.
"What've you two been plotting? I swear, if it's illegal—" Fu Junyao started, butting in again, her tone sharp.
Wu Yifan tilted his head, pretending to ponder, then quoted airily, "The Buddha says: some things are better left unsaid."
"Spit it out, you jerk!"
"Easy. Just promise to go on a date with Brother Wu, and we'll spill." Song Mingjie winked, egging her on.
"Pervert! Fatty! You'll regret this!" Normally, Fu Junyao would've fired back with a dozen insults, but the memory of that night at Ye Xiwen's—of breathless whispers, of skin against skin—flooded her mind. Heat coiled in her stomach, making her knees weak. She fled, slamming the door behind her.
Song Mingjie snickered. "Brother Wu,大嫂, I'll… uh… give you two privacy. Duty calls!" He gestured to Ouyang Hai, and two of his goons hauled the unconscious man up, dragging him toward the door.
"Wait! No! Xiwen! Help me! I'm sorry! Please!" Ouyang Hai jolted awake, screaming as the reality of his fate sank in. He thrashed, but the goons were too strong, clamping a dirty rag over his mouth. Muffled grunts were all that remained as they hauled him out.
Ye Xiwen frowned, tempted to intervene, but Wu Yifan's voice stopped her. "Men like him? They don't learn unless they're burned. Letting him go easy? He'll just do this to someone else tomorrow."
She thought of Ouyang Hai's lecherous grin, his cold threats, and nodded, looking away. Some people didn't deserve mercy.
The door clicked shut, leaving just the two of them. The air thickened, sweet with unspoken tension.
Ye Xiwen met Wu Yifan's gaze, her heart hammering. A faint blush stained her cheeks, soft as sunset, turning her usual sharp, decisive self into someone shy, almost vulnerable. It was a side of her he'd never seen—raw, human, breathtaking.
Wu Yifan stared, captivated.
Smart, strong, stunning—this woman. Marrying her? It would make a lifetime worth living.
He reached out, brushing a stray hair from her face. "You okay?"
She nodded, her breath catching as his fingers grazed her cheek. "I am. Thanks to you."
Silence stretched between them, warm, unrushed. For once, there were no jokes, no barbs, no chaos—just the quiet hum of two people seeing each other, really seeing each other, for the first time.
Outside, the clock ticked toward the competition. But in that office, time slowed.
Something had shifted. Something soft, something real.
And neither of them wanted to look away.