Hua's POV
I reached the bottom of my building and froze. Yiran's car was pulling up, tires crunching on the pavement. Panic surged through me, and I yanked off my sunglasses, quickly untying the scarf from my head. My ridiculous old-lady disguise was gone, but I could feel my heart hammering in my chest.
Yichen had stopped a little further away, hidden behind a tree, his eyes sharp, scanning the scene like a predator. Every fiber of him tense, waiting.
Yiran stumbled out of his car, unsteady on his feet, the faint smell of alcohol hitting me. His eyes were desperate, pleading, as he took a step toward me.
"Hua… I just…" he began, trying to reach for me. He leaned in, attempting to hug me, but I stepped back, hands flat on his chest, pushing him away. My heart pounded, but I refused to show weakness.
Then he dropped to his knees, gripping my hands in his. His voice cracked, begging me to come back to him. A wave of frustration and guilt washed over me, and I fought to keep my composure.
And then—Mom appeared.
"Hua! What's going on? Who is he?!" Her sharp voice cut through the tension like a blade.
I froze.
"Just a… coworker," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Panic threatened to creep in, but I forced it down.
Yiran straightened, trying to muster a composed smile. "Hi! Nice to meet you, Auntie. My name is Yiran!" His voice sounded sober, too practiced, as if he'd woken from a nightmare.
Mom did not bite. Her glare was sharp, unyielding.
"Well, Mister Yiram," she deliberately mispronounced his name, "it's not conventional to visit a married colleague during her day off…"
"I—I just wanted to talk about work…" he stammered, scratching the back of his head. He flinched under Mom's gaze, clearly outmatched.
"While holding her hands?" she asked sarcastically. Yiran's head tilted even further than it already was.
He bowed deeply, voice formal, overly polite. "I apologize for that. I drank a bit too much at a business meeting. I hope I didn't offend you."
So polite… I wished he were apologizing to me instead.
"You should be careful next time. Hua's husband is quite important in your company—he can get you fired."
Yiran's jaw dropped. Mom grabbed my arms, pulling me back toward the building. I cast a glance over my shoulder, and there he was—defeated, standing in the street. Yichen crouched behind a tree, eyes locked on me.
Our sad, puppy-like expressions met, and I felt a pang, wishing we had more time together. I wanted to melt into his arms, not run.
Inside, I quickly texted Yichen: I'm heading back inside, he's still here. Don't come yet.
Mom, sharp as ever, turned to me. "And Hua… no more hanging out with Yiram—or Yiran, understood?" She mispronounced him again, deliberately.
I rolled my eyes, ignoring her lecture, and texted Yichen back: He's probably still around. If we go to your place now, we'll get caught. Just stay put—we'll see each other later.
Hours passed. The sun began to sink into the horizon, casting the city in gold and rose. My phone buzzed, and my chest leapt. A message from Yichen: a link, directions, and instructions to meet him at a hotel.
I stared at the screen, heat rising to my cheeks. Slowly, shyly, I replied with a cute bunny sticker: Ok ♡
The hotel lobby was breathtaking. I'd never seen anything like it: marble floors, golden chandeliers, a sparkling fountain at the center, soft classical music drifting in the background. My breath caught.
A message popped up almost immediately: Room 505.
I followed the directions, heart thumping, and when I opened the door, I froze. A luxury suite greeted me: petals scattered across the floor, candles flickering softly, the warm scent of roses and vanilla filling the air.
On the dining table, a lavish lobster dinner glimmered under soft lighting. Yichen stood there, waiting, pulling out a chair for me like I was a princess. My stomach growled in anticipation, nerves making my hands tremble slightly.
I picked up my fork for the first bite. The flavors hit me like fireworks—lobster, butter, herbs, all perfectly balanced. I closed my eyes, savoring it, but couldn't stop sneaking glances at him. He looked effortless, watching me with that intense gaze, a slow, teasing smile tugging at his lips.
"You have to try this!" he said, guiding a forkful of Kobe beef toward me.
I tasted it. Juicy, tender, perfect. My lips curled into a smile. He leaned forward, brushing sauce from the corner of my mouth, our eyes locking. And then, impossibly, he licked his finger, slowly, deliberately.
My heart raced, fingers tightening around my fork. I could barely breathe.
"The food's gonna get cold…" he teased, smirking.
I nodded, trying the lobster, but every bite felt secondary to him—the warmth of his arm brushing mine, the soft weight of his presence beside me. My pulse thudded in my ears.
"Oh, by the way, my mom wants me out of the apartment," I said casually, though my voice trembled. "Guess I'll have to rent one with my new manager's salary."
He didn't miss a beat. "Why not live with me instead?"
I nearly choked on the lobster. His eyes were serious, unwavering, electric.
"Are you serious?" I asked, voice shaking slightly.
He leaned forward, hand brushing mine across the table, warm and firm. "I'm serious about you, Hua…"
The words, soft and sincere, made my chest tighten. I couldn't stop my pulse from racing. I grabbed his hand, letting him hold me, listening to the little voice in my head telling me to trust him.
"You have to stop touching me like that—I can't focus on the food," I muttered, but my protest was weak.
He squeezed my cheeks, pulling me into a teasing kiss. "Perhaps you should focus on me instead," he whispered.
I couldn't resist. Leaning in, I brushed my lips against his, slow, teasing, my heart fluttering wildly. He caught me, threading his hands into my hair, deepening the kiss. My body heated instantly.
Plates and food blurred into the background as he lifted me slightly, guiding me onto the table. My cardigan slipped off, revealing a crop top. His hands traced my shoulders and neck, teasing, gentle, and heated all at once.
I tugged at his t-shirt, pulling it up, and he stepped back, giving us a moment to breathe. Our eyes met—full of fire, desire, unspoken words.
"Are you sure you want that?" he asked, voice low, husky.
I nodded, heart hammering, and stood, taking his hand. I led him toward the bedroom, each step a mix of hesitation and anticipation.
Back in the suite, the world outside ceased to exist. Kisses became deeper, hands explored, whispers brushed against my ear. Every touch, every glance, sent shivers down my spine.
He pressed me against the wall, lips trailing from my mouth to my jaw, neck, and collarbone. I gasped, pulling him closer, my fingers threading through his hair. He responded with a groan, body pressing into mine.
Our laughter, our teasing, our whispered confessions mingled with soft moans. I lost track of time, lost in the heat of the moment, savoring each inch, each caress, each heartbeat.
When we finally slowed, I was breathless, flushed, skin tingling from his touch. We collapsed onto the bed, tangled together, reluctant to let go, letting the warmth and intimacy wash over us.
The next morning, my phone buzzed incessantly. I reached for it, trying to sit up, but Yichen wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me close.
"Sorry…" I murmured, guilty.
"Let it buzz. Don't run away," he said, voice still low and seductive.
I turned to him, planting small kisses over his face. He smiled, tightening his embrace. Warm. Safe. Perfect.
The buzzing didn't stop.
"If it's Yiran, I swear…" he growled softly, and I laughed.
"Let me check!" I said, lunging for my phone.
"No, stay still!" he countered, pulling me back against him.
Then his phone started buzzing too.
"That must be work," I said, freeing myself finally.
A flood of messages from my department chat lit up my screen: a big company trip to Hong Kong starting Monday. Meet at the main entrance of the office building at 8:00 a.m.
"A company trip to Hong Kong!" I exclaimed.
Yichen's eyes snapped open, mirroring my shock.
"Oh… Zhang Wei texted me too…" he said, disbelief clear in his voice. "I didn't know about it… who decided this?"
We exchanged a look, hearts sinking.
"Yiran!" we exclaimed, groaning in frustration, simultaneously.
To be continued...
Mom: 1 — Yiran: 0 — Yichen: ∞
What do you think Yiran's planning with this sudden Hong Kong trip? 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯