We stayed like that for a second—or maybe a century—foreheads pressed, breath shared, hearts thudding against each other like we were trying to remember how to be in our bodies again.
Zichen's lips hovered near mine, like he was debating whether to kiss me again.
I wouldn't have stopped him.
I didn't want him to stop.
And then—
"OKAY," Yulong's voice rang out like a megaphone through a church, "well now that you two are making out like we're not in the room—can someone pass the chips?"
I blinked.
Zichen blinked.
Shoulin choked on her wine and doubled over, shrieking with laughter.
"I WAS GETTING INTO IT!" she howled. "YOU TWO HAD A MOVIE SCENE GOING!"
"I was emotionally invested," Li Meng said, deadpan as ever. "This is better than anything on Netflix right now."
Yulong tossed a pillow in our direction. "Next time, please warn the rest of us so we can all quietly leave the room like supportive background characters."
Zichen groaned and buried his face in both hands, clearly trying to disappear into the void. His ears—already red from before—were now glowing.
I just sat there, wide-eyed and giggling like an idiot. I couldn't help it. Everything was absurd and beautiful and ridiculous.
"Look," I said, trying to breathe between laughs, "if you guys wanted entertainment, you could've just hired a magician."
"Oh no, no," Shoulin said, wiping tears from her eyes. "That kiss had plot development. That kiss had tension. That kiss had prequel potential."
"I'd ship it," Yulong added. "10/10. Kiss again."
Zichen reached over and grabbed a cushion, half-heartedly flinging it at his brother. "Please shut up."
But I could see the smile fighting its way back onto his lips.
That vulnerability—the rare, breakable softness behind all the calm and smirks—it was still there. But now it sat beside something else too.
Comfort.
Ease.
Like maybe—for once—he wasn't trying to control every second of his life.
Maybe neither of us were.
"Anyway," Shoulin said dramatically, lifting her glass, "to forbidden kisses and terrible dares. I love you all, you chaotic little messes."
We all raised our mismatched cups and bottles in a crooked toast.
And in that moment, I wasn't the Lian family's cold, unreadable daughter.
Zichen wasn't the Liu family's second son lost in his older brother's shadow.
We were just five kids in a villa, half-drunk, half-soaked, and completely unprepared for the next chapter of our lives.
And maybe… that was enough.
.....
The night unraveled like glitter thrown into a fan.
Someone (probably Shoulin) cranked up the music. Someone else (definitely Yulong) mixed five different alcohols into one terrifying drink and called it "The Legacy Destroyer." At some point, Li Meng started breakdancing with robotic precision, which had everyone sobbing with laughter, and I ended up slow dancing with a coat rack wearing Zichen's blazer.
It was… chaos.
Golden, reckless, champagne-flavored chaos.
We laughed until our sides hurt. Played more rounds of truth or dare that spiraled into karaoke, charades, and one dramatic reading of a corporate press release as if it were Shakespeare.
I barely remembered the moment someone—Zichen, maybe—tossed a blanket over me as I collapsed onto a velvet chaise lounge near the fireplace, mascara smudged, hair a mess, and heart full.
And then—
Morning.
A ray of sunlight sliced through the curtains like a blade to the skull.
I groaned.
My mouth tasted like regret and gummy bears. My head throbbed like I'd made direct eye contact with a corporate audit. My limbs felt like I'd wrestled a chandelier in my sleep.
The villa was eerily quiet.
And as I sat up—still wrapped in the blanket like some deranged heiress—everything came crashing back like a freight train of shame.
Oh my God.
I kissed Zichen.
No.
I kissed Zichen and sat in his lap.
No, we made out in front of his friends, while they were eating pizza.
I groaned again, dragging the blanket over my head like it could protect me from the memory.
Around me, the carnage of the night was everywhere.
Shoulin was snoring softly, curled under the dining table with a crown of plastic forks in her hair.
Li Meng had passed out on an ottoman, still wearing his socks on his hands like gloves.
Yulong was upside-down on a couch, clutching a plush tiger like it owed him money.
And Zichen?
Gone.
His seat near the fireplace was empty, his jacket folded neatly over the armrest.
Panic flickered in my chest.
Did he… leave without saying anything?
But then, I saw it.
Propped against the empty bottle of Este Le Morte was a small, cream-colored envelope. My name was written on it in Zichen's careful handwriting—tilted, elegant, a little smug-looking, somehow.
I opened it with trembling fingers.
...
Liang Princess,
I'm sorry I didn't wake you. You looked peaceful for once and I figured you deserved that.
As I told u last night, I have an early flight to new york, and ill be gone for a while.
Last night was… chaos. But the good kind. The kind that makes you believe maybe life isn't just boardrooms and headlines.
You were the best part of it.
I hope when you wake up, you don't regret a single thing.
(Not even the karaoke.)
Take care of Shoulin. And maybe make sure Yulong didn't drink a scented candle by mistake.
See you when the stars allow.
—Zichen
P.S. Don't steal my blazer. I'm serious.
.....
I stared at the note, the last line making my throat catch on a laugh. Then, despite everything—despite the hangover, the lipstick stains on my arm, and the total loss of my dignity—I smiled.
Wide. Genuine.
Because for the first time in what felt like forever…
I had no idea what came next.
And it felt incredible.
Sunlight filtered in gently through the tall villa windows, casting gold patterns on the marble floor. The chaos of last night was still visible—discarded wine bottles, glittery party hats, someone's sock hanging from a chandelier—but the energy had shifted.
Everyone was slowly waking up like a group of fairytale creatures coming out of a trance.
Shoulin sat up under the table, blinking dramatically. "Did I—did I sleep on a deck of Uno cards?"
"You made a throne out of them," Li Meng groaned from the ottoman, pushing his glasses up. "And declared yourself Queen of Spicy Takes."
"Respect the crown," she muttered, rubbing her eyes.
Yulong was already scrolling through his phone upside-down on the couch, a chip stuck to his cheek.
"Good morning, disasters," I said, standing up with a slow, sore stretch. "And thank you for last night."
They all looked at me, still half-asleep—but with soft smiles forming.
"You were awesome," Shoulin beamed, standing and fixing her fork crown. "You belong with us. Honestly."
I smiled, heart aching a little more than I expected. "I… haven't felt like I belonged anywhere in a long time."
"Please," Yulong piped up, waving his phone. "Give us your Insta before you ghost us like an heiress with amnesia."
We passed phones around like yearbook pages. Handles were exchanged. Contacts saved. Stupid selfies taken—one with all of us looking like garbage and royalty at the same time. Shoulin insisted on using a vintage film filter "for vibes."
Li Meng typed something into my contact and handed my phone back with a small smile. "You're officially one of us now. No takesies backsies."
I looked at them—really looked.
They weren't anything like the people I'd grown up around. They didn't ask what business school I'd be attending or whether I was interning at my father's firm. They didn't care about headlines or family mergers.
They just… cared.
About me.
Not the surname. Not the scandal. Just the barefoot girl who had cried laughing into a pillow while drinking from a Hello Kitty cup.
"I'm really gonna miss this," I whispered, hugging Shoulin first.
"You better text me every day or I'll show up at your house with a karaoke machine," she sniffed, hugging me tight.
"Deal."
Yulong saluted me with a Capri-Sun. "May your hangover be mild and your family meeting brief."
I snorted.
Li Meng offered a subtle, gentlemanly bow. "Try not to let the world ruin what you found here."
I blinked.
"Thanks," I said softly.
Just as I was about to leave, my eyes caught onto Zichen's blazer. I didn't know if it was for the sake of remembering this night forever or to convince myself that whatever that transpired was real, I picked up Zichen's blazer and wrapped myself in it.
And with a quiet breath, I stepped out into the crisp morning sun—no longer just a daughter of the Liang's.
But someone who, for one wild, rain-drenched night, had lived.