"So what exactly does Miss Jiang like about Mr. Ye?"
The voice drifted over from the corner of the dining table.
Song Huaicheng leaned back against his chair, most of his face hidden in shadow, making it impossible to tell whether the faint smile at the corner of his mouth was born of benign curiosity or something far more deliberate.
Jiang Nuan had just swallowed the last bite of her red bean cake and nearly choked on her own saliva.
What?
Like what about Ye Que?
The man had spent the entire meal sitting in the corner trying to be invisible, and now he suddenly pipes up—what's he playing at?
Her mind raced through the past few minutes. Ye Que's story about "love at first sight in the tunnel restricted zone" had been delivered without a single crack, thoroughly shutting down Bai Siyuan, who could only end with the word "devotion."
And then Song Huaicheng had to throw out a question like that.
Jiang Nuan instinctively glanced sideways at Ye Que.
Ye Que was looking at her too.
Those dark, dark eyes—unblinking, unmoving—rested quietly on her face.
He just looked at her.
As if he were genuinely waiting for an answer.
Jiang Nuan's heart skipped half a beat, and her gaze slid involuntarily from his eyes downward.
A straight, prominent nose. Sharp, clean-cut features. Even seated, he was clearly in superb shape—the black tactical uniform outlined broad shoulders and a narrow waist, the breadth of his frame carrying an almost oppressive presence.
Sitting beside her, the exposed section of his forearm showed beautiful musculature, and at this moment, it was holding her hand, fingers locked tight with a steady grip.
Her gaze traveled lower—long, straight legs, the proportions obviously far surpassing the average even while seated.
Jiang Nuan snatched her gaze back.
Enough. Enough.
Keep looking, and she'd be the one losing her composure first.
"Because Ye Que is handsome and has a great body."
The words slipped out the moment she thought them, and even she was stunned.
...Okay.
But that was, honestly, the truest thing on her mind right now.
The dining room went quiet for a good two seconds.
Bai Siyuan's wine glass froze mid-air. Song Huaicheng raised an eyebrow slightly. Shen Wu's knife paused over his sausage.
The heat creeping up Jiang Nuan's face was visible to the naked eye. She grabbed her wine glass in a flash and took a big swallow.
The liquid slid down her throat, the cool wine pressing down on the restless heat in her chest.
But not completely.
From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Ye Que beside her.
His expression shifted in the subtlest way—first a flicker of surprise, as if he hadn't expected that answer. Then his gaze dropped, traveling from his own chest down to his forearm, and finally landing on their intertwined hands beneath the tablecloth.
The corner of his mouth curved, just slightly.
One might almost call it...
Pleasure.
Jiang Nuan's heartbeat quickened by a notch.
Ye Que, what are you smiling at!
This is acting! Do you understand—acting!
Through the mental link, Shen Wu's voice arrived, fashionably late.
[Jiang Nuan, you really are... this at a loss for words?]
[The whole table is waiting for you to deliver some tear-jerking declaration of love, and you come out with 'handsome and great body.']
[Shen Wu, you're just jealous of Ye Que's physique.] Jiang Nuan gritted her back teeth.
A brief silence on the mental link.
[...I'm six-foot-three.]
[But you're on the lean side.]
Shen Wu was indeed over six feet tall, with near-perfect proportions, but his build was on the slender side.
Nothing like Ye Que, whose sheer explosive force and pressure were palpable at first glance.
Another beat of silence on the mental link.
[Jiang Nuan, tonight's report is going to be very interesting.]
[Write it then.] Jiang Nuan rolled her eyes internally.
Lu Shiyan was far away back at base, and besides—she hadn't done anything, had she? What did she have to fear?
[You'll be crying by the time it's done.]
[Shen Wu, on the training ground next time, I won't hold back.] Ye Que's voice cut in.
[Alright, alright. Tsk tsk tsk.] Shen Wu clucked a few times and fell silent.
Jiang Nuan privately gloated—everyone has their match.
"Miss Jiang and Mr. Ye's affection for each other is truly enviable."
Song Huaicheng spoke up with a genial smile, a note of wistfulness in his tone.
Those eyes were still hidden in shadow, impossible to read as kind or unkind.
Just watching.
Screech.
A jarring sound of metal scraping against porcelain cut sharply into the table's quiet.
Bai Siyuan's right hand held a silver fork, its tines scraping across the plate with a harsh slant, leaving a thin white scratch behind.
He clearly realized his own lapse.
"Pardon me." He looked up with a smile. "This dish is overcooked. Not easy to cut."
As he spoke, he reached for the bell.
A staff member came promptly and silently removed the dish.
More than Bai Siyuan's odd behavior, it was Song Huaicheng that gave Jiang Nuan pause.
What was this man trying to do?
Through the first half of dinner, he hadn't said a word, quietly shrinking into the corner like part of the backdrop.
Almost like he was testing something.
Or like he simply found it amusing.
Jiang Nuan couldn't figure it out.
But her instincts told her this man was harder to deal with than Bai Siyuan.
Because Bai Siyuan at least had a discernible pattern—his goal was to play out a hollow brother-and-sister game with her.
But Song Huaicheng's goal—she couldn't even begin to guess.
The second half of the dinner passed with a superficially graceful round of polite toasts and conversation.
Bai Siyuan had resumed his flawless, gentle-mannered demeanor, chatting about minor renovations to the estate, asking a few questions about Jiang Nuan's usual training schedule, his tone caring as if he were a genuine brother.
Song Huaicheng never spoke again, quietly finishing the food on his plate, and left the table with a courteous early exit.
"Getting old, I'm afraid—energy doesn't last." He smiled apologetically as he rose. "Enjoy the rest of your meal, everyone."
After dinner, Bai Siyuan walked Jiang Nuan to her door.
"Rest well tonight, A Nuan. If you feel like taking a look around tomorrow, just let me know any time." He stood at the corner, his gaze finally settling on Jiang Nuan's face, his voice warm. "This is your home. No need to hold back."
"Thank you, brother." Jiang Nuan nodded, smiling and waving at Bai Siyuan.
His gaze lingered briefly on their still-clasped hands—hers and Ye Que's—then shifted away.
"Good night, A Nuan."
"Good night, brother."
The instant Jiang Nuan stepped back into her room, she almost threw herself onto the big bed—dinner was exhausting.
She reached to unbutton her jacket.
Then she noticed something.
Her left hand was still being held.
From under the table, through the hallway, past Bai Siyuan's farewell, and now into the room.
Ye Que had been holding her hand the entire time.
She instinctively loosened her fingers.
Ye Que didn't let go.
His grip tightened a fraction—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that she couldn't pull free.
Ye Que walked two steps forward and sat down on the sofa.
Jiang Nuan was tugged along by the movement.
Ye Que leaned back against the sofa, long legs stretched out in front of him.
"Ye Que?"
Jiang Nuan stood in front of him, looking down at him.
The warm light of the floor lamp hit him from the side, illuminating half his face. It was only then that she noticed a faint trace of red across his features.
"You're not drunk, are you?" she blurted in disbelief.
Everyone at dinner had only had a single glass of red wine. Even she was only slightly lightheaded, her mind still clear.
Ye Que, sniper of Zero Squad, a man who could take out an enemy from a thousand meters with a single shot, had been taken down by a glass of red wine?
Ye Que didn't answer.
He held her hand and pulled her gently toward him.
The force wasn't strong, but Jiang Nuan lost her balance, her body leaning forward with the pull. Instinctively, she braced her other hand against the back of the sofa, barely stopping herself from collapsing onto him.
And then she realized the position they were in.
She was bent over, one arm braced on the sofa's backrest, the other hand trapped in Ye Que's grip. He sat; she half-hovered above him.
She was trapping Ye Que against the couch.
Physically, literally.
The realization sent a strange thrill through Jiang Nuan's mind.
Usually, he was the one cornering her in places with no escape. When had it ever been her turn to cage him between her arms?
But the thing was…
The angle at which Ye Que looked up at her right now made her heart race.
His face tilted upward.
Those typically cold, dark eyes gazing up at her from below, warm light reflected in the depths of his pupils. The subtle upturn at the corners of his eyes, magnified infinitely by this upward angle, lost its usual sharp intimidation, replaced by something unfamiliar…
A sense of submission.
Or perhaps a kind of exposure, a regard stripped of all defenses.
"Jiang Nuan."
His voice was half a note lower than usual.
"Ever since I first saw you, there's been a strange feeling affecting me."
Jiang Nuan instinctively held her breath.
His thumb unconsciously traced the back of her hand, as if confirming she was still here.
"This feeling—I can't say when it'll suddenly appear."
He paused.
The light cast a small shadow from his lashes, trembling faintly with each breath.
"And this feeling, I have no way to suppress it."
"As time goes on, it appears more and more often, more and more impossible to ignore."
Ye Que looked up at her, the emotion in his eyes intense yet restrained.
He raised his other hand, slowly, letting his fingertips brush against the loose strands of hair by her ear.
Gently tucking them behind her ear.
The pad of his finger grazed the curve of her ear, sending a tingling shiver through her.
His fingers continued downward.
The tip touched the edge of her jaw.
And stopped.
Like a question. Like restraint.
He paused for a few seconds.
Then slowly withdrew his hand, and instead brushed aside the hair on her other side.
Every hair on Jiang Nuan's body stood on end.
"Ye Que, what exactly are you—"
"Link established."
Shen Wu's cool, clear voice rang in her mind without warning.
Jiang Nuan practically jumped.
She straightened abruptly, nearly stumbling sideways into the table. Ye Que quickly pulled her forward, steadying her.
[Nightly routine mental link synchronization, confirming all three individuals are normal.] Shen Wu's voice was matter-of-fact. [Ye Que, are you there? Reply.]
Ye Que's hands dropped back to his knees.
He lowered his head, long lashes casting shadows over his eyes.
But Jiang Nuan saw his knuckles, gripping his knees hard enough that veins stood out.
Then he spoke through the mental link.
[…Here.]
[I'm writing the team leader's report, so I need to confirm—before I entered the link, what were the two of you doing? I need to decide on the wording.]
Jiang Nuan, "…"
Ye Que, "…"
[We weren't doing anything.] They both spoke at nearly the same time.
The mental link went quiet for a few seconds.
[Answering in unison. A classic case of protesting too much. Logged for the record.]
The tone betrayed nothing.
[Shen Wu, you—]
[Good night.]
And the connection severed, more silent than any time before.
A faint rustle came from the sofa.
Ye Que remained in his lowered posture, quiet for two seconds.
Then he stood and walked toward the window, his back to her.
His shoulder line tightened slightly, then loosened a second later.
He looked through the gap in the curtains, as if checking something.
The red on the tips of his ears, brought on by the alcohol, had faded. His expression was back to its usual coldness, as if those words had never left his lips.
Turning his back to her, his voice returned to its normal register.
"Get some rest."
That night, Jiang Nuan lay in bed.
The room was quiet. Ye Que's breathing drifted from the direction of the sofa—steady, even.
She turned over and buried her face in the pillow.
Her mind involuntarily replayed Ye Que's words: "This feeling, I have no way to suppress."
And then?
What else had he been about to say?
And then Jiang Nuan realized something.
She was grateful Shen Wu had interrupted that conversation.
Because she wasn't sure she wanted to hear how that sentence ended.
She still remembered how this person had entered her life.
Ye Que was the one who saved her.
And he was also the one who dragged her into this cage.
Both things were true at the same time.
She knew he hadn't had a choice.
But understanding wasn't the same as forgiving.
From the sofa came the faint sound of him turning over.
She held her breath, frozen still.
The sofa went quiet again.
Jiang Nuan pulled the blanket over her head and silently cursed in the darkness.
Then she hugged the blanket tighter.
