For a second, the world tilted.
Not because I was drunk—though I definitely was—but because Zichen Liu, the too-cool, too-smooth heir to the Liu conglomerate, had just said, I think I do right now. And he was looking right at me.
The air in the room changed. Not dramatically. Just slightly—like someone had lowered the dimmer, or turned the music softer, or paused the spinning of the earth.
Everyone was staring at me, waiting for a dramatic gasp, a blush, a crash of spilled wine, anything.
But I was already grinning.
Drunk, barefoot, and emboldened by tart and wine and chaos, I slowly leaned in—eyes wide, expression innocent.
"You have a crush on me?" I said, pretending to gasp like I'd just discovered a national scandal. "But I'm the daughter of your family's sworn enemies, Zichen. This is forbidden love. Star-crossed. Shakespearean."
He laughed, hand over his mouth, the tension in his shoulders cracking like the fizz of a just-opened soda can. "Don't flatter yourself. It's more like Romeo and Corporate Juliet."
"Oh please," I said, rolling my eyes. "More like Gossip Girl: East Asia edition."
Shoulin squealed and smacked the pillow between us. "Wait, wait, this is better than anything I've streamed in months!"
But Zichen wasn't done.
His gaze settled back on me—cooler now, but still sharp, like he was trying to see through all my layers. "You joke a lot when you're uncomfortable," he said.
I blinked. "Do not."
"You do."
"…Fine. Maybe."
He smirked again. "Cute."
And just like that, the mood pivoted again—lighter, yes, but more electric. The air between us practically hummed. I was alive for the 1st time in years.
"Okay!" Yulong announced, oblivious to the tension thick enough to stir with a spoon. "Next round. Everyone's going dare. No more hiding behind truths!"
"Oh god," I groaned, already regretting everything.
"Lily, you're first," Shoulin chimed in, eyes gleaming. "Dare!"
I steeled myself. "Hit me."
Shoulin clapped her hands together in gleeful evil. "I dare you… to sit on Zichen's lap for the next five minutes. You're not allowed to move unless someone spills a drink."
I opened my mouth, ready to object, but Li Meng interjected with a solemn, "The rules are sacred."
Zichen just raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip twitching. "Scared, Liang Princess?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Not even a little."
Boldly—fueled by wine, adrenaline, and sheer chaos—I slid over and settled into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hands automatically went to my waist to steady me, and oh. His grip was firm. Warm. Dangerous.
His breath hitched.
Mine did too.
I pretended to fix my hair, avoiding his gaze. "You're not exactly made of pillows, Liu."
He leaned in slightly. "And you smell like rain and matcha tart."
"Don't flirt. It's cheating."
"I'm not flirting," he whispered, "I'm daring."
That shut me up.
Everyone else continued the game, but I barely registered it—my whole body hyper-aware of every inch of contact. Of his chest rising and falling against my back. Of the occasional shift of his fingers at my waist, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to hold me or not.
Eventually, someone shouted, "Zichen, your turn! Dare!"
Yulong, the evil little devil that he was, smirked. "I dare you to kiss someone in this room. Properly. No cheek nonsense."
The entire room screamed.
I started to get up, panicking—only to remember the dare. I couldn't move unless someone spilled a drink.
Li Meng, ever the loyal assistant, slowly tipped his glass until wine splashed dramatically across the carpet.
"Oops," he deadpanned.
I was too stunned to laugh.
Zichen, for once, looked… concerned
"Yulong, come on—" he began, but his voice cracked slightly.
The room erupted in teasing protests.
"You said no hiding, bro!"
"It's the rules!"
"Live a little, birthday boy!"Everyone howled with laughter, but I couldn't move.
Neither could Zichen.
He let out a slow, barely-there laugh. The kind you make when you're both amused and absolutely done with everything.
Then he turned to me.
And suddenly the room, the laughter, the twinkling lights—it all faded.
His hands dropped from my waist.
He looked at me like I was something fragile and rare, like a secret he was scared to say out loud.
And then, softly, like it cost him something, he said, "I've never kissed anyone before."
My heart did a full-body somersault.
"What?" I whispered, stunned.
"I never wanted to. Not when it didn't mean anything," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But right now…"
His words trailed off, but the meaning lingered in the silence between us.
His hand lifted, uncertain at first, then resting lightly against my cheek, fingers trembling just the slightest bit.
I felt weightless.
My lips parted to say something—but nothing came out.
And then, slowly, he leaned in.
The kiss wasn't rushed.
It wasn't perfect.
It was soft, hesitant—like a question.
His lips brushed mine once, as if testing the temperature of something sacred. Then again, a little deeper. A little more sure.
My hands fluttered at my sides, unsure where to go, before they finally settled—awkwardly, instinctively—against his chest. One of his hands tangled at the back of my neck, the other hovering at my waist, as if he wasn't sure how close he was allowed to hold me.
It wasn't the kind of kiss that ignited fireworks.
It was the kind that rewrote gravity.
Every nerve in my body went still.
Every thought I'd ever had about Zichen fractured and reformed in the shape of this moment—his mouth on mine, gentle, curious, vulnerable.
When we finally pulled away—barely, just an inch—he rested his forehead lightly against mine, both of us breathless.
The room had gone eerily quiet. I could still feel the eyes of the others, but I didn't care.
Neither did he.
"I think I just ruined you for everyone else," I murmured, dazed.
Zichen let out a stunned laugh—quiet, hoarse, almost boyish. "I was about to say the same."