Chapter 105: Overstepping the Mark
Fu Junyao's moans during their charade had been convincing—seductive enough to fool the guards—but they were just that: an act. Each whimper, each gasp, had been calculated, a performance forced through gritted teeth. But now? Now, as Wu Yifan's hands roamed and his lips pressed against hers, something shifted. The heat coiling in her belly wasn't feigned. It was raw, unbidden, a wildfire sparked by his touch. The sounds escaping her now were torn from deep within, low and throaty, far more genuine than anything she'd faked. They hung in the air like a potent spell, thick with longing, and for a dizzying moment, Wu Yifan forgot they were in enemy territory.
He didn't hesitate to lean into it. His right hand slipped beneath her short skirt, brushing the smooth skin of her thigh—warm, silk-soft, as if carved by a master sculptor. Every curve, every inch, sent a jolt through him, making his pulse race. This wasn't part of the act anymore.
Fu Junyao felt herself unraveling. Wu Yifan's hands were like magic, leaving trails of fire wherever they touched. A hunger she'd never known—dormant, perhaps, until this very moment—flared to life, burning away the last of her resolve. She knew, logically, that this was wrong. This man was tied to Ye Xiwen, the woman she considered a sister. But logic fled as his thumb grazed the edge of her underwear. Her mind went blank, save for the need to be closer, to feel more.
Outside, the guards shifted awkwardly, their cheeks flushed. They'd heard enough to know this wasn't some random tryst. Oriental Coast wasn't a place for amateurs. Its doors were barred to all but the city's elite, and Room 207? It was the crown jewel, reserved for VIPs with pockets deep enough to bankroll a king's ransom. Only the most powerful men in Beitian dared to indulge here—men Qian Baoqing himself would bow to.
"Boss, let's go," one guard muttered, adjusting his cap. "Ain't our business to spy on the boss's guests."
The bearded captain nodded, already stepping back. He'd seen enough of Qian Baoqing's bribes—stunning women paraded in to sweeten deals with corrupt officials—to recognize the game. Disturbing this? It'd cost them their jobs… or worse. They melted away, footsteps fading down the hall.
Inside the suite, passion still raged. Wu Yifan's hand dipped lower, and that's when Fu Junyao snapped back to reality. Her blouse hung open, buttons popped, revealing the lacy pink bra she'd bought just last week—now crumpled, as if mauled by a beast. His fingers brushed the fabric of her panties, and shame crashed over her like a wave. What was she doing? This wasn't right. Not here, not like this.
*Slap!*
The sound echoed, sharp and sudden. Wu Yifan froze, hand jerking back. He stared at her, wide-eyed, as she pushed him off with a strength he hadn't expected.
"Officer Fu, it was a misunderstanding—" he started, sheepish.
Fu Junyao fought back tears. That night, she'd been drunk—she could blame the alcohol. But today? They were both stone-cold sober. Had she really lost herself so easily? To *him*? She glanced at his hand, still glistening with her arousal, and wanted to vanish. This couldn't be happening. It must be some trick, some spell he'd cast. But deep down, she knew the truth: she'd wanted it, too.
"Pervert. Get off me." Her voice trembled, but there was fire in it. When she said "get off," her cheeks burned—*why* had she phrased it like that?
Wu Yifan scrambled up, ears burning. He tiptoed to the door, pressing an ear against the wood. Silence. No footsteps, no murmurs. Just the faint hum of the club's air conditioning. He exhaled, turning back with a weak grin. "They're gone."
Fu Junyao sat rigid on the sofa, yanking her blouse closed and fumbling with the buttons. Her bra was beyond saving—one strap hung loose, the lace frayed. She shot him a venomous look. *This man is a brute.* Did he get off on roughness? Ye Xiwen's gentle nature wouldn't stand a chance.
The thought made her cringe. *What am I thinking?* It was none of her business what Wu Yifan and Ye Xiwen did. But here she was, disheveled and humiliated, twice in one day. Could she really let this slide?
Wu Yifan watched her face flicker—anger, embarrassment, something softer he couldn't name—and knew he was treading on thin ice. He inched closer, hands raised in surrender. "Officer Fu, I… I didn't mean to—"
She cut him off with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You've got guts, Wu Yifan. Flirting with a cop? I could arrest you for assault right now." Her gaze sharpened, like a blade at his throat.
Wu Yifan swallowed hard, sweat beading on his brow. "C'mon, it's not my fault! The guards showed up—we had to sell it!"
"The guards doing their jobs doesn't explain why your tongue was in my mouth." She leaned in, fists clenched.
He coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Technically… you didn't stop me. Seemed like you were into it." Even with his thick skin, the words felt bold.
Fu Junyao's face flushed. It *had* felt good—intoxicating, even, like nothing she'd ever known. But admitting that? It would make her seem… easy. "Liar! You forced me! I'm not as strong as you, that's all. It's attempted rape, you know. That's years in prison."
"Attempted? I barely—"
"You touched me. Rubbed against me. Don't play innocent." She stood, poking a finger at his chest. "And don't think I'll forget this."
Wu Yifan sighed. He knew when to back down. "You're right. I overstepped. I'm sorry." It wasn't just lip service—he *was* sorry, though a small part of him didn't regret the way she'd melted against him.
Fu Junyao softened, just slightly. She crossed her arms, staring at the floor. "Let's just… find her. We can argue later."
Relief washed over him. "Lead the way, Officer."
They slipped out of the suite, moving like shadows down the corridor. The third floor was quieter, dimly lit, with doors heavier than those below—more secure. As they passed a half-open door, a voice drifted out, low and menacing.
"…that little bitch thinks she can run? I'll break her legs before I let her leave. And when the cops show up tonight? They'll find nothing. Zhang's already taken care of it."
Qian Baoqing.
Wu Yifan and Fu Junyao exchanged a look—*there*. They flattened themselves against the wall, listening as the door creaked shut.
"Zhang?" Fu Junyao mouthed. *The mole.*
Wu Yifan nodded, his jaw tight. They'd found their lead. Now, to find Han Shishi before it was too late.
He gestured down the hall, where a single door stood ajar, a sliver of light seeping out. *That's it.*
They moved closer, hearts pounding. Behind that door, they'd find answers. And maybe, just maybe, a chance to set things right.