The elevator ascended, arriving at the apartment.
Sang Lu stepped inside first, not noticing the man following behind her, his expression calm yet contemplative.
Sitting on the bench by the door, Sang Lu bent over to pick up her silk slippers, her body hunched.
The delayed effects of the alcohol suddenly surged to her head due to her lowered posture.
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, attempting to shake off the drunkenness.
When she reopened them, the dizziness only intensified.
After putting on one slipper, she shifted her legs to change into the other.
Caught off guard, her head spun, and her body tilted slightly to the side.
As she lost her balance, her arm instinctively reached out to find something to hold onto.
Suddenly, her hand grasped onto something hard.
The alcohol dulled her reactions, and she slowly raised her eyes, only to realize that she had tightly grabbed Feng Yan’s belt buckle.
The cool sensation of metal pressed against her palm.
Her thumb rested lightly just below the buckle.
The man’s tailored trousers were pulled into creases, and a certain unmistakable curvature appeared before her eyes.
She had seen plenty of illustrations of handsome men in two-dimensional art, some of which were rather risqué.
She thought herself well-versed, yet she was still caught off guard.
It was… a bit exaggerated…
Even more so than the ones in the comics…
She paused.
Avoiding that particular area was nearly impossible, so her gaze inadvertently shifted upward.
And that shift didn’t help.
Instead, her eyes froze again.
At some point, Feng Yan’s black shirt had been pulled up slightly.
The defined muscles of his waist and abdomen were now fully exposed in front of her.
After a few seconds of stunned silence, she belatedly realized that when she had sat down and he had stood, her frantic movement to find something to hold onto had inadvertently tugged his shirt upwards.
She had also loosened one of his buttons…
Sang Lu’s ears instantly burned, her cheeks quickly flushing a shade of peach pink.
She had always known Feng Yan was in the habit of working out, but seeing him at such close proximity brought an entirely different level of sensory impact.
His abdominal muscles were sleek and powerful.
Taut, with sharply defined grooves.
She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol clouding her judgment or sheer curiosity driving her actions.
Her body moved faster than her mind, and just as her hand left the metal belt buckle, it reached toward a place it shouldn’t have…
Everything happened too quickly.
Half of Feng Yan’s face was shadowed, his tall figure blocking the warm yellow light from the entryway.
His cold, piercing gaze suddenly dropped downward, catching sight of Sang Lu—right under his nose—pulling at his shirt, gripping his belt, her fingers hesitating just there, and then…
She raised her hand and pinched his waist.
Twice.
Not too hard, not too soft, but enough to make the usually composed man’s eyes tighten sharply.
Right at that moment.
Sang Lu slowly tilted her head upward, her slightly drunken eyes meeting Feng Yan’s intense gaze.
They were so close—close enough for him to see the fine hairs on her forehead.
His heart thudded violently.
His waist and abdomen tensed, and with the area she had just pinched as the focal point, heat spread rapidly, engulfing his entire body in a wave of restless warmth.
“I’m so sorry!” Sang Lu’s thoughts snapped back to clarity the moment their eyes met.
Oh no.
What was she doing?
Why had her brain suddenly short-circuited, leading her to pinch Feng Yan’s abs?
Was she seriously teasing Feng Yan under the influence of three shots of alcohol?
Realizing what she had just done, Sang Lu widened her eyes in disbelief, unable to meet Feng Yan's gaze.
Feng Yan's eyes were lowered, his posture slightly bent, his expression suddenly frozen.
It was the first time he had seen such an expression on Sang Lu's face.
Her earlobes were flushed red, her cheeks resembling ripe peaches, and further down, her slender and graceful neck.
In the silence, his throat moved, a dry thirst blocking his voice.
He was well aware that this was different from the usual feeling of wanting to speak but being unable to.
It was a feeling rooted in the psyche.
A feeling driven by desire.
"Sorry, I... I thought it was Aunt Zhang."
Sang Lu suddenly spoke, breaking the silence.
Her voice was slightly hoarse, softly explaining herself.
As her words fell.
To express her apology, she bravely raised her head under his gaze.
From below, she saw the crisp cut of the shirt wrapping around the man's broad shoulders and narrow waist.
Then she saw Feng Yan's noble and cold face, clearly stunned for a moment after she spoke.
Sang Lu: ...
Choosing her words carefully, she cautiously added, "I mistook you."
Feng Yan's pupils grew darker: "..."
He stared at her unblinkingly.
Aunt Zhang and Aunt Li were known not to appear in the living room after ten o'clock at night, and the distance from the maid's quarters to the living room was quite far.
How could she have thought it was Aunt Zhang?
Moreover, which part of him could have led her to mistake him?
She was quite drunk.
Just as Feng Yan was thinking this, Sang Lu, very clear-headed, put on the remaining slipper, stood up, rubbed her naturally curly hair, and gave an awkward smile, "I'm going to take a shower now."
Then, with agile steps, she turned.
Disappearing from sight.
Feng Yan remained silent.
His expression unchanged, he turned his head to gaze down the corridor.
After a while, he withdrew his gaze lightly.
The warmth in his waist and abdomen, stirred unintentionally by Sang Lu, lingered.
Feng Yan raised his hand, loosened a button on his collar, trying to breathe more easily.
However, it was not as he wished.
His brows furrowed.
He simply unbuttoned the rest.
He took off his shirt and walked toward the shower in the gym.
...
The shower's water cascaded down.
From the head.
The man slightly tilted his chin up, raising his hand to brush his wet hair back from his forehead, his features deep and distinct.
As soon as he closed his eyes, Sang Lu's flushed face, her red earlobes, and lips with a hint of moisture, her eyes tinged with intoxication, the corners slightly damp, alluring and captivating, appeared uncontrollably in his mind.
Her expression as she held his waist and looked up at him was vivid in his memory.
A strange emotion suddenly rose in his heart.
Damn.
The man let out a short sigh.
He raised a hand to wipe his face haphazardly, his brows deeply furrowed.
He was a normal man, with normal thoughts and desires.
At this moment, it seemed as though her delicate, warm touch still lingered on his waist.
His gaze lowered, the contours of his brow deep, hiding the increasingly heated look in his eyes.
The shower's temperature was adjusted to be cooler, yet it could not extinguish the swelling heat.
The man's lips pressed into a straight line, his arm muscles gradually tensing.
A dark and unclear light filled his eyes.
He felt a pressing thirst in his throat, spreading inch by inch.
As soon as he closed his eyes.
It was her captivating image.
The smoldering fire surged even more intensely.
His breathing was no longer steady.
The sound of running water lingered in the bathroom.
Through the misted glass, the tall silhouette of the man trembled slightly.
...
Bedroom.
Sang Lu finished her shower, dried her hair, and wrapped herself in the blanket.
Lost in thought.
The more she thought about it, the more she felt her habit of running away when facing difficulties wasn't quite right.
She had planned to explain to Feng Yan before going to sleep.
Simply confess that it was the influence of alcohol that made her act that way.
She didn't mean to tease him.
Nor did she dare to tease him.
However, until sleep finally overtook her, Feng Yan hadn't returned to the bedroom.
Why was he taking so long to shower today?
Half-asleep, Sang Lu closed her eyelids.
She didn't know how much time had passed when an arm reached over from behind.
The scent of citrus shower gel lingered at her nose.
In a half-dream, half-awake state, she realized it was Feng Yan.
A peculiar thought suddenly flashed through her muddled mind.
Did Feng Yan use her shower gel?
She remembered that he used to have a very faint, slightly bitter fir-scented shower gel.
The thought only flitted by for a moment, and she pursed her lips.
Feng Yan was unconsciously hugging her again in his sleep.
His arm would be painful to wake up with.
But she was too tired, her eyelids were heavy, and she didn't have the strength to push his arm away.
Just as Sang Lu was thinking this.
She suddenly noticed that the pressure on her waist was different from before.
Gentle, restrained, encircling her from behind.
It didn't feel uncomfortable.
In a hazy daze.
Sang Lu closed her eyes heavily.
And dreamed sweetly through the night.
