Hua's POV
Our guide finally clapped her hands, gathering everyone's attention.
"Alright, everyone! You have ten minutes to drop your things in your rooms before we regroup in the lobby for the bus to the AI Convention."
Ten minutes.
Only ten minutes in this palace disguised as a hotel.
It barely felt humane.
We all rushed toward the elevators—three massive glass ones rising like crystal pillars through the center of the lobby. When I stepped inside, the transparent walls revealed a breathtaking view of Hong Kong's skyline. Buildings, highways, ships, lights… a world that felt alive even in daylight.
But I couldn't enjoy any of it.
Because half the elevator was staring at me.
Not subtly.
Not kindly.
The jealous kind of stare.
The "why does SHE get a private suite?" stare.
And it wasn't my fault.
I didn't ask for the privilege.
I didn't even know who gave it to me.
But people already had their version of the story, and nothing I said would change it.
The elevator shot upward so fast my ears popped.
Floor 18…
Floor 27…
Floor 42…
Until finally:
50th floor.
My floor.
The suite
The moment I tapped my key card, the door opened with a soft chime—and my jaw hit the floor.
This wasn't a room.
This was a museum exhibit for royalty.
A huge ancient-looking carpet covered the entrance hall, its patterns probably older than my country. A crystal chandelier hung overhead, scattering light into rainbow prisms. A faint luxurious scent—something like sandalwood and vanilla—floated in the air.
And the space…
Oh my god.
It was three times bigger than my apartment.
I dropped my suitcase somewhere near the doorway, too overwhelmed to even aim properly.
The theme was absurdly extravagant—half ultra-modern billionaire chic, half "old money castle." Velvet couches, marble counters, gold details, carved wooden furniture… things that belonged in a drama set, not a business trip.
And then I reached the bedroom.
I stopped breathing for a whole second.
The entire wall behind the bed was a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the skyline, and the giant king-size bed was placed right against it like some Pinterest fantasy. Dozens of pillows, white sheets, soft duvet—it looked like a cloud disguised as a mattress.
My first instinct was to jump on it and dissolve into paradise.
But then I remembered the shameful amount of chips I'd eaten with Qianlu on the bus, and the crumbs still stuck to my clothes.
No way was I ruining that bed.
So instead I went straight to the bathroom.
To my surprise, compared to the rest of the suite, the bathroom was simpler. Still luxurious—marble, gold taps, towels folded like origami—but not obscenely extravagant.
Maybe I was already getting used to luxury because of Yichen…
I shook my head.
No time for that thought.
I showered quickly, stepped into the insanely soft hotel robe (I was definitely stealing this later), and finally—finally—let myself fall onto that bed.
I melted instantly.
It felt like laying on a warm cloud or being hugged by heaven itself.
So soft.
So warm.
So—
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
I shot awake.
Someone was banging on my door so hard the frame rattled.
My heart leaped to my throat.
For a full second I thought—
Fire. Earthquake. Murderer. Something was wrong.
And then—
Sh*t.
THE AI CONVENTION.
I scrambled out of the bed, stumbling toward the mirror.
My hair was a mess.
My eyes were puffy.
My robe was half-open.
I looked like a corpse who stole a rich lady's bathrobe.
Perfect excuse to pretend I was sick.
I rushed to the door and yanked it open—
And froze.
Yiran.
The last person I wanted to see.
I didn't even have time to form words before he grabbed my wrist and pulled me outside.
"We don't have time," he said sharply.
"What—wait! I'm not feeling well. Can't I just stay here? Skip the convention? I feel dizzy—really dizzy—"
I pressed my hand dramatically to my forehead. I should get an award for that performance.
He didn't buy it.
"There's a fire," he said bluntly, then started running.
A fire??
Adrenaline hit me.
My bare feet slapped against the hallway carpet as I followed him out of sheer instinct.
"A fire?!" I repeated, panic rising.
But something felt off.
His voice.
His expression.
By the time we reached the elevator, I realized it.
He shoved me inside.
I looked at the panel—
He had pressed BF3.
Basement floor 3.
Why would we go down if there was a fire?!
"Where's the fire?!" I shouted.
"Um… not quite sure. I just heard the alarm," he replied.
I froze.
That was his lying voice.
His stupid, obvious, predictable lying voice.
"You're lying!"
"No, I'm—"
"Who takes the ELEVATOR during a fire, Yiran?! Where are you taking me?!"
I tried pushing the button for my floor, but the elevator was already descending.
Too fast.
"It's useless," he said with that terrible, smug smirk. "You'll just have to follow me."
God, I hated that smirk.
That cheek dimple.
Everything about him.
Basement Level 3
When the doors opened, a strange antiseptic smell hit my nose.
Not smoke.
Not fire.
A pool?
No.
Not just a pool.
A full enchanted forest spa.
Tropical bird sounds echoed around us.
Steam rose from the water.
Fake vines hung from the ceiling.
Palm trees stood tall.
And a wooden bar with a smiling bartender completed the bizarre picture.
I stared, speechless.
"What is this?"
Was this always here?
Did he rent the whole place?
Did he pay to decorate it like a jungle?
Did he bribe the staff?
…And for WHAT?
He didn't say anything.
He simply waved at a man in a suit across the room, who walked over and handed me—
A swimsuit.
I blinked.
Yiran smirked.
"Change. You won't swim dressed like that, right?"
That stupid dimple appeared again.
My blood boiled.
A female staff member approached and gestured for me to follow her to the changing rooms.
I knew I should refuse.
I knew I should scream.
I knew I should run.
But the thing about Yiran was…
He always got what he wanted.
Always.
If I ran, he'd chase.
If I refused, he'd insist.
If I screamed, he'd shut me up with charm or manipulation or sheer stubbornness.
So I changed.
Not because I wanted to.
But because I needed to survive the situation.
When I returned, Yiran was already in the water near the bar. His eyes moved over me for one second longer than appropriate.
Too long.
I ignored it.
I walked to the opposite end of the pool, the farthest possible spot, and sat down on the edge.
Silence.
Water rippling.
Bird sounds.
Steamy warmth.
Then he swam toward me.
Of course.
He emerged from the water with a cocktail in hand—cold, creamy, decorated with a pineapple slice.
"It's your favorite," he said softly.
"A piña colada."
Damn him.
He knew exactly how to tempt me.
Because he knew me.
He knew the old me.
The childhood me.
The teenager me.
The me who once believed he was the only person in the world.
And despite everything—
I was still weak to certain things.
Like piña coladas.
I took the drink.
His smile deepened.
And I suddenly felt like I had just made a deal with the devil.
---
Author's Note
Hi my beloved readers!If you've reached this point of the story, thank you — really. I know I say that a lot, but I genuinely mean it every single time. I'm writing this little note while sipping something way too sugary and pretending I don't have a full-time job waiting to ruin my back tomorrow morning.
So first of all: thank you for reading.Whether you've been here since chapter 1 or you just arrived, your presence means the world to me. Every view, every tiny click, every person who reads even a single paragraph… it all counts. A lot more than you might think.
I'm a small author, writing this story in the middle of a chaotic life, between responsibilities, work, time zones, and random existential crises at 2 a.m. If my updates are sometimes slow, please know it's never because I don't care — it's just because I'm literally juggling life like a clown with shaky hands.
I'm genuinely doing my best, and your patience means everything.
If you enjoyed the chapter
Please consider:
✨ Saving the story to your library✨ Leaving a comment✨ Dropping a little heart or rating
It seems small, but trust me: for an author like me, it changes everything. One comment can fix my whole mood for a week. One encouraging sentence can make me write 3 extra chapters. One "OMG??" can resurrect me from exhaustion like a phoenix with too much caffeine.
You all have more power than you think over my mental health 😭✨
If you ever want to interact
I adore reading your reactions.Your theories.Your rage at certain characters.Your love for others.Your "WTF Yiran??" moments.Your screaming.Your clown emojis.
I read everything, even if I can't reply all the time. And yes, sometimes I laugh way too loud alone in my room because of your comments.
⭐ About this chapter
In this chapter I really wanted to show:
- the surreal luxury environment
- the shift in tension
- Hua's internal conflict
- Yiran's manipulative charm
- that strange, complicated history between them
- and of course… the pool scene 👀
I hope you felt the uneasiness, the attraction, the annoyance, the confusion — all at once. That's the vibe of their dynamic.
⚠️ Schedule & Updates
Please remember I'm a human bean with:
- a full-time job
- a body that refuses to cooperate
- a soul powered mostly by snacks
- and a brain that writes scenes when I should be sleeping
So if updates slow down sometimes, don't worry — I'm still here, still writing, still plotting the next emotional damage.
Thank you for staying with me even when I disappear for a few days (or weeks…). You're honestly the nicest readers ever.
💖 Your support really matters
If you want to help:
- reacting
- commenting
- sharing the story
- adding it to your library
- or even just silently reading…
—all of these things help the novel grow.You don't need money, you don't need to boost anything.Just being here makes a difference.
🌙 Closing words
Thank you, truly, for giving my little story a space in your day.Every time you click on a new chapter, you're choosing to spend a little moment of your life with these characters, and that's something I don't take lightly. There are thousands of stories out there, countless worlds you could explore, yet you still decided to stop here, with mine. That choice means more than I can express.
Thank you for letting Hua and the others live in your imagination.Authors can write all the scenes they want, but stories only become alive when someone else reads them — when someone else feels something, imagines the expressions, fills in the silence between the lines. In a way, the characters belong to you now just as much as they belong to me. You're the one breathing life into them, giving them a place to exist beyond my keyboard.
Thank you for caring about these characters the way I do.Seeing people react, love, hate, question, or even yell at them (affectionately or not) is genuinely one of the greatest joys I have as a writer. It feels like sharing a secret language with strangers across the world — we're all experiencing the same emotions at the same time, carried by the same storyline, and that connection is honestly magical.
And thank you for choosing to spend your time here, with me.Time is the most precious thing any of us has, and the fact that you're giving some of yours to my little universe is something I will never take for granted. Your support, your presence, even just your quiet reading in the background — all of it keeps me going. I'm grateful for you, and I hope you'll continue walking with me and these characters for many chapters to come.
You're the reason I keep writing.See you in the next chapter ✨