The familiar scent of cedar and vetiver reached her nose before the voice did.
"You're home late today," she murmured, her lips curving faintly though she didn't turn her head.
"Mm. Had a couple of things to finalize at the office," Zihan replied, his tone calm and unhurried as always.
He positioned himself behind her, dryer in one hand, brush in the other. His movements were careful, too careful. The brush tugged through her damp strands with a hesitancy that betrayed his inexperience, but his touch was steady, his long fingers combing gently through the silk of her hair before guiding the bristles.
It took a while, but at last, he was done drying her hair. She turned to face him, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"Nice to see you being inexperienced with something. For the first time, I really believe you're human."
Zihan frowned slightly, his brows knitting. "You thought I was a machine before?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she grinned at him cheekily, slipping off the bed as if to escape the conversation. But his next words rooted her in place.
"Do machines…" His voice dipped low, almost husky. "…get turned on by the sight of you?"
"… Huh?!" Her entire body jolted, eyes wide, cheeks instantly warming.
The deep chuckle that rumbled from his chest was quiet but unmistakably satisfied. He loosened his tie with deliberate slowness, every motion exuding control, his gaze never leaving her. He began to walk toward her, each step measured and predatory.
Guo Min instinctively moved backward, her breaths uneven, until her back hit the vanity table. The faint clink of the perfume bottles rattling echoed in the silence.
Zihan leaned forward, placing both hands flat on the table, caging her in effortlessly. The warmth of his presence surrounded her, the air thick with tension. She could have pushed him away, said something sharp to break the moment, but instead, her lips parted, pouting unconsciously as if betraying her own thoughts.
He noticed. Of course, he did. A slow, knowing smile tugged at his lips. His eyes lingered on her face, then he deliberately pulled back, dropping his watch onto the table with a soft thud.
"What were you expecting?" His voice was calm, edged with amusement. "Not today, my proactive fiancée."
"Y-you, tchh. I will get my revenge!" Guo Min called out as he disappeared into the bathroom, her cheeks still warm from his teasing.
A while later, he returned, already in his silk pajamas, hair slightly damp. Without a word, he headed downstairs. She followed, and soon the dining room was filled with the faint aroma of something simple but comforting.
"It's very late already," she said while setting a steaming bowl before him. "So we'll be having something light for dinner."
Zihan sat, adjusted his sleeves, and glanced at the bowl. "Hmm. Thank you." He picked up the spoon, blew gently, and sipped. His expression remained unreadable.
"Are you okay with that? Aren't boys meant to have bigger appetites?" she asked, tilting her head. "You act too refined for a man."
One brow arched. "I'm not a male?"
"No, that's not what I meant," she shot back quickly, narrowing her eyes. "I'm saying, Yufan eats triple of what's on your plate."
At the mention of the other man's name, Zihan's jaw tightened, though his voice remained cool. "Well, he's in the army. Do you know the kind of things they do there?"
"But he's a General," she countered, lifting her spoon with deliberate slowness. "What more does he do than sit in an office all day?"
"I don't know. Maybe training," Zihan muttered, his eyes sharp on her, the green spark of jealousy flickering no matter how carefully he tried to mask it. "Enough of Yufan. I'm fine with the food."
But his gaze betrayed him, falling again and again on her lips as she sipped the broth. Her mouth, pink and full, glistened faintly under the soft light. His throat constricted. Abruptly, he dropped the spoon and reached for his glass of water, drinking as though to cool something rising in him.
The rest of dinner passed in a silence laced with unspoken tension.
Later, they headed upstairs. The bedroom was dim, shadows stretching across the walls. Zihan lay down first, his back turned to her. Guo Min slid under the covers, exhaling softly, only for him to roll over a while later. Their eyes met in the faint light.
His gaze was steady, intense, and it traveled down to her lips as though drawn there by instinct. It wasn't the first time; she had noticed him doing it often whenever they spoke.
This time, she let her lips curve into a teasing smirk. "Not today, my proactive fiancé."
The words, his own thrown back at him, made his eyes darken. His chest rose and fell slowly as he leaned back against the pillow, saying nothing. But the tension that hung between them only grew heavier.
"The designer will be here tomorrow for the wedding outfit. Our shoot is the day after, and my mother will go with you to pick out jewelry and anything else you need."
"Meaning I have to be awake early tomorrow…" Guo Min sighed softly, rolling to her side. "Okay. Good night." Within moments, her breathing slowed as she drifted into sleep.
---
The next morning.
Guo Min's schedule had shifted; she wouldn't be going to the office today. But she didn't intend to suffer through fabric choices and embroidery arguments alone. With a quick call, she ordered her friends to clear their calendars and join her later.
She was still scrolling through her phone when Zihan emerged from the bathroom. His damp hair clung to his forehead, the sharp line of his jaw freshly shaven. His gaze landed on her and softened.
Unlike her usual polished appearance, today she was dressed down in a casual tennis skirt and a baggy cropped top, her hair pinned loosely in a messy bun with a clip.
It was Guo Min, unfiltered.
She's cute, he thought, an involuntary smile ghosting across his lips as he crossed the room.
Before she could even notice, his arms slid around her waist from behind, pulling her lightly against him. She flinched at the sudden closeness, her phone slipping from her hand. "Zihan?"
He said nothing. Instead, he tilted her chin and captured her lips in a kiss, firm and unhurried.
Her eyes widened, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest. "Mother will soon be here with the designer..." she began, but the words broke off when she realized his eyes weren't listening. They were fixed solely on her lips, as though every syllable only tempted him further.
The moment her mouth stilled, he kissed her again, deeper this time, insistence threading through the warmth. His lips molded against hers with quiet hunger, his hand sliding up to cradle her cheek, the other resting firmly at the back of her head.
Her resistance faltered and she let herself kiss him back. The instant she did, his tongue pushed past her lips, forceful, claiming, pulling her deeper into him. His hand anchored her in place, not allowing escape, his touch both protective and possessive.
The room was silent except for the sound of their mingled breaths, the hum of electricity sparking between them.
Zihan's hands wandered unconsciously, tracing the outline of her waist, her back, her curves as if he had the right to memorize them. Well he did. His lips left hers, drifting down the slope of her jaw, then lower toward her shoulder and collarbone.