Later, in the hotel room, Lan Xia drifted in and out of a shallow, confused sleep. Her stomach felt tight, her head heavy. When she finally managed to sit up, her vision spun wildly.
She clutched the bed frame and tried walking.
Two steps later, she heard running water.
"Water toilet where?"
Her brain wasn't working. She stumbled toward where she saw light—pushed a door open—and entered.
Steam filled the room.
Fan Yujing stood in the shower, water cascading down his shoulders.
Both of them froze.
Well—she didn't freeze. She simply walked to the toilet, lifted the lid, and sat down.
Completely ignoring him.
Her relief was almost comical. When she finally lifted her head—
She saw him.
Their eyes met.
Silence crashed between them.
Fan Yujing waited for the scream.
It never came.
Instead, Lan Xia calmly stood up, flushed, and walked to the sink to wash her hands as if she hadn't just barged into a stranger's shower mid–bathroom break.
She paused at the doorway, glanced over her shoulder, and smirked.
"Heh dreams nowadays feel so real. But if this is a dream, why would I dream of such a man? You'd think I'd imagine someone with a better face."
Fan Yujing's expression twisted. He glanced at his reflection as if checking whether something had gone wrong with his face.
Then he shut off the water and wrapped himself in a towel, pretending not to care.
Lan Xia staggered back to the bed. Her body felt like mush; all she wanted was sleep. She reached for the edge of the mattress—
A hand grabbed her arm, yanking her upright.
His voice dropped low and dangerous.
"Woman, you've got guts."
*
The sudden, painful tug on her arm snapped through Lan Xia's foggy mind like a spark. Her vision swam for a moment before settling on the tall, half-naked man in front of her. She blinked hard, trying to steady her gaze.
"Who are you?" she murmured, head tilting back to study his face.
The man let out a soft, humorless chuckle. He reached out, pinching her chin between his fingers—tilting her face upward until she could not look away.
"Who am I?" His lips curved into a lazy, wicked smile. "You were the one hugging me so tightly you nearly strangled me. Shouldn't you tell me who I'm supposed to be?"
"I hugged you?" she repeated faintly, disbelief thick in her voice. Her head felt stuffed with cotton, thoughts slow and slippery. She frowned. "Impossible, I'm clearly dreaming."
She narrowed her eyes, leaning forward with an unsteady wobble, and poked his chest with a shaking finger—like she was testing whether he was solid or made of smoke. Her smile grew even more dazed, almost childlike.
*
"Hehe, this dream really feels real." She sighed dramatically, her cheeks flushed pink. "Handsome guy, you must be one of those dream heroes here to comfort me. Of course, today's the anniversary of when I met my fiancé and he dumped me just hours ago."
Her voice cracked softly at the end before drifting into a tipsy laugh.
She poked his torso again. "Wow, your chest is nicer than Zhao Wang's and these abs hehe, this is pretty fun."
Fan Yujing's jaw twitched.
"And since you appeared in my dream," she went on, her voice dropping into a sad little whisper, "shouldn't you comfort me properly? Just for today"
But the heat radiating from his body suddenly felt far too real. Instinctively, she stepped back, panic flickering in her clouded eyes.
"H-handsome I—I was joking. It's just a dream. We shouldn't—"
Her words cut off with a strangled gasp.
His hand shot out and clamped around her wrist.
Hard.
"Didn't you just say I should comfort you properly?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You said it yourself."
The grip tightened.
Lan Xia's breath hitched, fear jolting her fully awake for half a second. Her eyes widened, shimmering in the dim room.
Before she could protest—
His mouth crashed onto hers.
Hot. Fierce. Consuming.
Like fire poured straight into her veins.
Her thoughts shattered into sparks. She tried to breathe, to push him away, but his strength dwarfed hers. The kiss stole the last of her logic, swallowed her panic, and burned away every line she thought she would never cross.
Her chest trembled.
She didn't know if she was drunk or dreaming or awake. All she knew was she was scared—and strangely aware of the man above her.
Then his voice came, rough and confused, brushing her ear.
"Woman, who are you?"
She couldn't answer. She felt like her mind had melted. His body pressed against her like a wall of heat, impossible to escape.
"It hurts" she whispered, trembling.
But the moment the words left her lips, his mouth covered hers again—silencing her cry, swallowing her pain. The room fell into heavy, suffocating quiet.
*
The next morning came like a slap.
Lan Xia woke with her skull pounding, the kind of headache only disastrous choices could summon. She pushed herself up slowly, the sheets falling around her, and the sight before her nearly sobered her instantly.
A massive room. Velvet drapes. Crystal chandeliers.
This wasn't the bar.
This wasn't her home.
This was—
"The presidential suite?" she whispered hoarsely.
Her heart dropped straight into her stomach.
Of all the hotels in the city, why had she drunkenly chosen the most luxurious one? Reporters were already watching her every move. If they caught her walking out of such a room—looking like this—she would give them enough material to last an entire year.
She could already imagine the headlines.
"Fallen Socialite Wastes Money on Luxury Suites."
"Dumped Heiress Parties Away Her Sadness."
"Lan Family Daughter Seen Leaving Hotel With Mystery Man."
She pressed her palms to her temples.
No. Absolutely not.
Her bag. She needed her bag.
She tore through the room, checking corners, drawers, the floor—nothing.
Her pulse raced.
She didn't even have money to pay the bill.
"Damn it" she muttered.
Thankfully, the sun hadn't fully risen yet. That meant fewer reporters, fewer guests, fewer eyes.
She threw on her clothes, straightened herself as much as she could manage, and slipped toward the emergency exit. The metal door was cold under her fingers as she pushed it open.
The fire escape smelled of dust and midnight air.
Lan Xia took a steadying breath and darted down the stairs, disappearing before anyone could see her.
By the time Lan Xia made it out of the hotel's fire escape, her heart was pounding harder than her footsteps. She hugged her arms around herself, still dizzy, still embarrassed, still half-convinced she had dreamt everything.
As soon as I get out, I'll call Mei Mei or Leiting, she told herself. They can help me settle the room bill.
She wanted to laugh, cry, and hit her own forehead. Getting drunk only makes things worse. I really am an idiot.