Chapter 88: A Bet**
Inside Ye Xiwen's office, the air hummed with a tension that had nothing to do with fear—this time, it was warm, hungry, alive. Wu Yifan and Ye Xiwen kissed deeply, their tongues tangling, each savoring the taste of the other. Ye Xiwen let out a soft, breathy moan, her cheeks flushed, as if every touch from him sent electric currents racing through her veins. Wu Yifan's hands slid beneath her blouse, tracing the curve of her breasts, and she arched into his touch, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck as if he were her anchor.
Memories flooded Ye Xiwen's mind—all the times Wu Yifan had stood up for her, the way he'd laughed off danger to keep her safe, the quiet moments where he'd shown a side of himself no one else saw. It wasn't just gratitude anymore. It was something deeper, something that had been simmering beneath the surface, waiting to boil over. When Ouyang Hai had lunged at her, the first face that flashed in her mind wasn't anyone else's—it was Wu Yifan's.
Men were men, but there was a world of difference between a man who wanted to *take* and a man who wanted to *give*. If she'd had to choose between giving herself to Wu Yifan or Ouyang Hai, the choice was effortless. Ouyang Hai saw her as a prize; Wu Yifan saw *her*.
She wasn't a starry-eyed teenager anymore. She knew what she wanted, and right now, it was him. Age, status, even the chaos of their lives—none of it mattered. All that mattered was the way his hands felt on her skin, the way his heartbeat matched hers, the way he looked at her like she was the only woman in the room.
"Be gentle," she murmured, half-scolding, half-pleading, as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. "You'll tear it."
"Sorry—I'm just… eager." He grinned, sheepish but unapologetic.
"All men are the same," she teased, her tone soft, like a wife chiding her husband. There was no anger in it, only affection.
"Can you blame me? Look at you." He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her jaw, then her neck.
She tilted her head, giving him better access, her voice a whisper. "You still going to call me 'Ye Zong'?"
He paused, meeting her eyes. They were dark, warm, full of something he'd only dared to dream of. "What should I call you, then?"
"Wenwen," she said, her lips brushing his ear. "Junyao calls me that."
"Wenwen," he repeated, his voice rough with desire.
She nodded, a soft "Hmm" escaping her as she pulled him back into a kiss.
Neither of them was experienced. They fumbled with zippers and buttons, laughing nervously when their hands bumped. Ye Xiwen's blouse, with its intricate clasps, proved particularly stubborn, and Wu Yifan muttered something about "designers overcomplicating things" before finally managing to slip it off her shoulders. She shivered, not from cold, but from the way his gaze drank her in—as if she were a masterpiece. He lowered her gently onto the couch, his hands hovering over her waist, as if afraid to move too fast…
*Knock! Knock! Knock!*
The sound was loud, insistent, shattering the moment.
Ye Xiwen jolted, pushing him away with a gasp. She scrambled to grab her blouse, her fingers trembling as she buttoned it, her cheeks burning. Wu Yifan let out a groan, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Couldn't whoever it was have waited *forty minutes*?
He stalked to the door, yanking it open.
Of course, it was Fu Junyao.
She raised an eyebrow, her gaze darting between their flushed faces and Ye Xiwen's askew blouse. "Let me guess—you two weren't just 'talking' in here?" She turned to Ye Xiwen, her tone softening. "Wenwen jie, be careful. Men say all sorts of things to get what they want. Haven't you heard? The harder something is to get, the more you cherish it. Give in too easy, and they'll take you for granted."
Wu Yifan crossed his arms, feigning nonchalance. "Officer Fu, I must protest your work ethic." He stared pointedly at the ceiling, making it clear he wasn't intimidated.
Her eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're a police officer, yet you spend more time here than at the station. People talk, you know. 'Cop fraternizing with a KTV owner'—not a great look. And let's not forget: customers don't want to party under a cop's watch. If Infinity loses business, are you gonna foot the bill?"
Fu Junyao opened her mouth, then closed it. He had a point. Most people came to places like Infinity to let loose, not to be reminded of rules and regulations. Her constant presence *was* probably scaring some customers off.
Ye Xiwen, now fully dressed (if still a little flustered), smoothed her hair. "Enough. The competition starts soon. We should go—don't want the reporters saying we're rude."
"Right! Let's go, Wenwen jie." Fu Junyao looped her arm through Ye Xiwen's, shooting Wu Yifan a triumphant look as she steered her toward the door.
He followed, muttering about "interruptions" and "bad timing."
The lobby of Infinity was packed. Crowds jostled for position, cameras flashed, and reporters shouted questions into microphones. This was Beitian's first bartending competition—something everyone wanted to see. The energy was electric, a mix of excitement and tension as people debated who would win.
Ye Xiwen scanned the room, her眉头 furrowing. "If push comes to shove, we'll have to send Zhiyuan."
Wu Yifan knew Liao Zhiyuan dabbled in bartending, but he was hardly a professional. The plan he'd hatched with Song Mingjie was solid… but what if it fell through? He couldn't let Ye Xiwen face that kind of defeat.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'll do it."
Ye Xiwen and Fu Junyao stared at him, mouths agape.
"You?" Ye Xiwen asked, disbelief in her voice. "You can bartend?"
"There's a lot you don't know about me." He grinned, striking a pose. "Real men stay humble. No need to show off every trick in the book."
Fu Junyao snickered. "I believe you can *drink*—not mix drinks. This is a competition, not a bar crawl. Stop messing with Wenwen jie."
"What if I win?" He challenged.
She scoffed. "You won't."
"Then let's bet on it."
"Fine. I bet you lose."
"If I win, you kiss me. Three times."
"Pervert! In your dreams!"
"Scared you'll lose?" He taunted. "Afraid to put your money where your mouth is, little girl?"
Her jaw tightened. "You think I'm scared? Fine. If you lose, I get to punch you. Thirty times."
"Deal."
They slapped hands, their eyes locked in a silent battle.
Ye Xiwen sighed, rubbing her temples. *Really? Now?*
By 7 PM, the lobby was even more chaotic. Qian Baoqing arrived with a retinue of other club owners, all grinning like they already knew the outcome. The crowd surged forward, but the staff managed to clear a space near the stage for VIPs and reporters—much to the annoyance of the onlookers who got pushed outside.
"Ye Zong! Long time no see!" Qian Baoqing boomed, extending a hand. His smile was too wide, too triumphant.
"Qian Lao Ban looks well," Ye Xiwen replied, shaking his hand politely.
"Flattery will get you nowhere," he chuckled, though his eyes said *I've already won*.
Other owners crowded around, exchanging pleasantries that felt more like veiled boasts.
A man in his thirties stepped onto the small stage, clutching a microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Beitian's first bartending championship! Who will prove they're the best? Let's meet our contestants!"
The crowd cheered.
"First up: representing Oriental Coast—Ah Shuai!"
Ah Shuai stepped forward. He stood straight, his posture perfect, but his eyes were dull, lacking the fire he'd had earlier. Wu Yifan nodded subtly—good. The plan was working.
"Ah Shuai is a prodigy!" the host gushed. "He's been bartending since he was thirteen—twelve years of experience! He's the favorite to win today!"
Qian Baoqing's chest puffed up, his grin practically splitting his face.
"Next: representing Infinity KTV—" The host paused, squinting at his notes. He looked up, confused. "Wait… who?"
The crowd went quiet. All eyes turned to Ye Xiwen.
Wu Yifan stepped forward, a lazy smile on his face.
"Me," he said, taking the microphone from the host. "I'm Infinity's contestant."
Gasps echoed through the room. Qian Baoqing laughed outright.
"You? A bartender?" He shook his head. "Ye Zong, is this some kind of joke? You're gonna let a… a *security guard* represent you?"
Wu Yifan ignored him, addressing the crowd. "Let's make this interesting, shall we?"
Ye Xiwen's heart raced. What was he doing? Did he *actually* know how to bartend, or was this another one of his reckless gambles?
Fu Junyao leaned in, whispering to Ye Xiwen. "Told you he was bluffing. Thirty punches, here we come."
But Wu Yifan was already walking toward the bar set up on stage, rolling up his sleeves. He winked at Ye Xiwen as he passed, as if saying *Trust me*.
She took a deep breath. She'd trusted him this far.
Let the game begin.