Sang Lu had to admit it.
Kissing Feng Yan was an incredibly pleasurable experience.
From the very beginning, even when her mind was still reeling with shock and fluster, her body had already softened involuntarily.
She could feel the firm pressure of his broad palm against her waist—tight, yet not uncomfortable.
Instead, it became a kind of support, steadying her.
The hand cradling the back of her head alternated between pulling her closer and granting her brief moments to catch her breath.
With both hands controlling her body, all she could do was lose herself in his kiss.
Not a single stray thought could break her focus.
It wasn’t until the car had been parked in Qinghe Bay’s garage for a long while that he finally released her.
The partition in the car blocked the driver’s seat, and Sang Lu had no idea when Fang Assistant had left.
When she stepped out of the car, her nerves made her glance quickly toward the front—no one was there.
Her legs felt weak as she walked toward the elevator lobby, as if all the strength had been drained from her body.
Behind her, steady footsteps followed—Feng Yan entered the elevator with her.
The doors slid shut slowly.
Sang Lu froze for a second.
In the mirrored surface of the elevator door, she caught sight of her reflection.
Only one word came to mind—disheveled.
Her face was flushed beyond belief, her hair a mess.
The hem of her blouse, originally tucked neatly into her pencil skirt, had been pulled askew by the way he’d held her waist, leaving uneven wrinkles.
She inhaled softly.
She wanted to fix her appearance, but her hands were occupied.
Because the moment Feng Yan stepped into the elevator, he had effortlessly taken her hand again.
Fingers interlaced.
Sang Lu sighed inwardly.
Her gaze lifted slightly, studying Feng Yan through the mirrored surface.
He stood tall and relaxed, his sharp, well-defined features appearing cool and unyielding under the elevator’s light—except for the faint, almost imperceptible curve at the corner of his lips, softening his usual severity.
Aside from the slight creasing of his shirt, there was no trace of the intense kiss they’d just shared.
In fact, he looked refreshed, as if he’d just stepped out at 8 a.m. for work.
Just as Sang Lu was silently observing him, lamenting the unfairness—
Their eyes met in the reflection.
The moment their gazes locked, her heart skipped a beat for no reason, and she instinctively looked away.
Up at the ceiling.
If not for the confined space, she might have even blurted out something like, "The moon in the elevator is so round tonight..."
Feng Yan’s expression paused slightly.
His eyes slowly traced over her face.
Her earlobes were red. Her lips were red too, slightly swollen.
The corners of her eyes glistened faintly under the light, damp with lingering emotion.
Then his gaze dipped lower—a faint red mark on her pale neck.
The imprint of where his hand had gripped her.
In the car, the dim lighting had hidden her reactions from him.
But now, under the elevator’s bright illumination, every fragile detail of her face was laid bare before him.
And the knowledge that he was the one who had reduced her to this state—
A flicker of guilt rose in Feng Yan’s chest.
But it was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name.
He simply stared, memorizing every inch of her skin that had changed because of him.
He couldn’t get enough.
Qinghe Bay was one of the most luxurious residences in the city, and its elevators were more spacious than most.
Yet Sang Lu felt suffocated.
Enveloped by Feng Yan’s overwhelming presence, she could barely breathe.
Every second his unreadable gaze lingered on her face, the heat in her cheeks intensified.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
She had to say something.
Otherwise, she might pass out from lack of oxygen.
"How are you feeling today?"
She spoke, trying to sound casual.
But her throat was dry, making her voice come out muffled.
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted it.
Because Feng Yan’s expression—previously calm—flickered with something unidentifiable.
Was it her imagination, or did a dark, amused glint slowly ignite in his pitch-black eyes?
No, no, no!
Did he misunderstand?!
Inside, Sang Lu’s heart was pounding wildly.
She had meant to ask if the heavy rain had affected his health.
But now, he probably thought she was asking… how it felt to kiss her.
She considered herself bold, but not that reckless.
Her face burned, and she hurried to clarify:
"I meant—with the heavy rain today, did you feel unwell at all?"
Then she immediately averted her eyes again.
She couldn’t look at him.
Not even for a second.
Fresh from her first kiss, Sang Lu couldn’t summon her usual carefree demeanor.
The hand not held by Feng Yan had secretly clenched into a fist.
Even with her head turned away, she could still feel the weight of his gaze on her.
A beat of silence passed.
Or maybe just a second or two.
Then—
"Ding."
The elevator arrived at their floor.
At the same time, Feng Yan’s deep, magnetic voice drifted to her ears:
"It was good."
He led her out of the elevator.
Then, in that same low, unhurried tone, he added:
"Kissing you felt good."
His voice was calm. Matter-of-fact.
As if stating an irrefutable truth—like "one plus one equals two."
No hidden meaning.
No ulterior tone.
Just pure, unadulterated honesty.
Sang Lu felt her ears burn, her body stiffening.
Ice-block guy!
You seem utterly unfazed.
But do you have to say it out loud?
My face is on fire.
For a moment, Sang Lu found herself missing the days when Feng Yan couldn’t speak.
...
Stepping into the foyer,
Sang Lu said, "I need to change my shoes."
Hearing this, Feng Yan released her hand to let her switch footwear.
She sat on the bench while he remained standing beside her.
A slight shift of her gaze caught the glint of his metal belt buckle.
The sight dragged up the memory of that drunken night when she’d tugged at it.
Pressing her lips together, Sang Lu deliberately averted her eyes.
She reached for her slippers.
Her heart, racing all evening, finally had a moment to rest.
Just as she thought so, Feng Yan called her name.
"Sang Lu."
She looked up,
dazed, at the man towering over her.
The height difference made him seem even taller, his silhouette imposing.
The foyer light dimmed as he lowered his head,
casting his face in shadow. She couldn’t read his expression.
After a long pause, his voice finally reached her—
unlike his earlier confidence, now laced with hesitation, caution, restraint.
He spoke slowly:
"Who did you like in high school?"
