The next day.
Sang Lu woke up, the awkward scene from last night already forgotten as she stretched comfortably.
She moved her shoulders and waist, surprised to find that not only was there no soreness from Feng Yan's arm pressing on her, but she had actually slept exceptionally well.
She felt refreshed and energized.
What was going on?
Had her body grown stronger from enduring daily pressure?
A cause for celebration.
With a mix of confusion and immense pride, Sang Lu washed up and changed.
Stepping out of the bedroom, she glanced around.
Her eyes met Aunt Zhang's.
"Mr. Feng left ten minutes ago," Aunt Zhang said without being asked, placing a glass of warm milk on the table.
Hearing this, Sang Lu couldn't help but curse inwardly: Overachieving workaholic!
It was because of people like Feng Yan—already wealthy yet still grinding relentlessly—that she and other hardworking souls had no choice but to keep up.
She quickly ate a few slices of toast and took a sip of milk before hurrying out.
Today was the filming day for the preview of the new variety show. She couldn’t be late.
Down in the garage, she pressed her car key a few times.
But there was no familiar "beep" from her beloved Orange Boy.
Sang Lu: ?
Just as she was about to search for Orange Boy among the sea of luxury cars, a black Porsche pulled up in front of her.
The driver’s window rolled down.
Feng Yan, wearing a dark gray coat, looked at her with his usual cool, handsome demeanor. "Get in."
Sang Lu’s expression conveyed confusion: "?"
His voice was calm. "Your car’s tires were badly worn. I sent it in for replacements. I’ll drive you to and from work these few days."
Sang Lu froze.
Feng Yan had actually spoken so many words in one go?
What progress!
Then, belatedly, another thought struck her.
Were Orange Boy’s tires really that worn?
She hadn’t noticed.
With no time to dwell on it, Sang Lu muttered an "okay" and slid into the passenger seat.
At the second traffic light, she noticed Feng Yan’s expression was relatively mild—not as icy as usual—so she decided to bring up the topic she’d wanted to discuss since last night.
"You took such a long shower last night—"
As soon as she started, she saw Feng Yan’s grip on the steering wheel tighten slightly. She paused.
"—I wanted to wait for you to come back to the bedroom so we could chat, but I ended up falling asleep from exhaustion."
Feng Yan’s Adam’s apple bobbed almost imperceptibly. "What did you want to talk about?"
"I didn’t mistake you for someone else yesterday," Sang Lu said, fingers tracing the seatbelt as she got to the point. "I was drunk and not thinking clearly. I lost my balance while changing shoes, accidentally lifted your shirt, and then… I don’t know what came over me, but I pinched your waist. I just wanted to see how it felt…"
At this, Feng Yan’s brow arched slightly.
The light turned red.
He turned his head fully toward her.
Meeting his inscrutable gaze, Sang Lu pressed her lips together and explained:
"I read online that men’s abs are firm yet soft, like washboards. My brain short-circuited, and I suddenly wanted to verify it… so I reached out with my sinful hand."
Her words were halting.
But every syllable was sincere.
After the incident at Qilan—where she’d learned that "one lie requires a hundred more to cover"—she’d resolved to be as honest as possible.
Being scrutinized by Feng Yan’s piercing stare was worse than being caught in a lie.
Right now, even if the atmosphere was slightly awkward, at least her conscience was clear.
The car fell into silence.
Only the soft morning breeze rustled past the windows.
After what felt like seconds—though it might have been longer—Feng Yan suddenly chuckled. His dark, clear eyes held an unreadable glint. "So this is what you’re browsing on your phone before bed every night?"
Sang Lu froze, caught off guard.
After a moment, she took a shallow breath and looked out the window.
"Not every night. Just occasionally. I leave comments so the algorithm knows I’m not uninterested."
Since she’d committed to honesty, there was no backing out now.
Besides, the content she browsed was mostly fanart—masterfully drawn by talented artists. It wasn’t just about… aesthetics.
She simply admired the artists’ styles.
Her tone was frank, though her voice grew quieter.
"..." Feng Yan paused, faint confusion flickering across his handsome features.
He didn’t understand why Sang Lu could speak so candidly yet sound so hesitant, as if lacking confidence.
This contrast struck him as…
rather endearing.
Noticing Feng Yan’s lingering gaze, Sang Lu hurriedly added:
"But don’t misunderstand. It’s not that I’m ‘uninterested,’ but I’m also not ‘extremely interested.’ It’s more like… I don’t mind looking, so there’s no need to avoid it."
Her honest explanation grew even softer.
Because the mention of those online images reminded her of last night—when she’d grabbed his belt buckle and glimpsed the prominent bulge beneath…
Unconsciously, her ears burned.
"Good," Feng Yan’s deep voice drifted over, casual as he turned the steering wheel without looking at her. "It’s normal. No need to avoid it."
Sang Lu blinked.
What an unexpected turn in the conversation.
Bizarre, yet oddly relaxed.
Talking about topics they’d never broached before made the distance between them feel just a little smaller.
The black car glided smoothly along the road, passing under an overpass.
The morning breeze carried the crisp freshness of dew, soothing and pleasant.
Sang Lu closed her eyes, inhaling the scent.
Then, abruptly, her expression shifted.
As if remembering something, she turned to Feng Yan.
"By the way, why did you suddenly decide to use my shower gel yesterday?"
The moment the words left her mouth, Feng Yan’s grip on the wheel tightened.
His mind flashed back to last night in the shower.
He’d been thinking of her—and had reached for the bottle she kept in the gym… the one that carried her scent.
His breathing grew imperceptibly uneven.
"Do you like the smell?" Sang Lu asked, seemingly oblivious.
Feng Yan paused for a few seconds before nodding. "Mm."
...
