Chapter 123: The Drunken Night 1
The cool night breeze brushed Wu Yifan's face as he stepped out of Rose Bar, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby flower stand. His mood felt lighter than it had in weeks—like a weight he hadn't realized he'd been carrying had finally lifted.
The plan was still in its infancy, but he could already see the outline of victory. If A Xin and A Long joined him, they'd be driving two iron nails into Qian Baocui's organization. At best, it would split Qian's ranks, sowing chaos and paranoia. At worst? It would give Wu Yifan the opening he needed to dismantle Eastern Coast entirely.
Once, Wu Yifan had been content to drift through life, day by day, with no greater ambition than making rent and avoiding trouble. But Beitian City had taught him a harsh lesson: weakness was a death sentence. To survive, you either held the knife or became the meat.
He thought of Ye Xiwen, waiting for him, and a soft smile touched his lips. With her by his side, even the fight ahead felt worth it.
---
Ye Xiwen sat in the living room of her apartment, the soft glow of a table lamp gilding her features. Before her, six small dishes—braised ribs, stir-fried greens, a plate of crisp lotus root—sat neatly arranged on the coffee table, alongside a bottle of red wine. Her fingers tapped nervously against her cheek, a faint blush coloring her cheeks like the first flush of dawn.
*Tonight.*
The word echoed in her mind, sending a flutter of excitement and trepidation through her. She'd built a reputation as "Widow Wen" in Beitian's nightlife scene—shrewd, unyielding, untouched by any man's advances. It was a armor, one she'd forged to protect herself in a world that saw single women as prey. But Wu Yifan had chipped away at that armor, piece by piece, until all that remained was a woman longing to be seen.
This morning, when he'd been late returning to Infinite, panic had clawed at her chest—a feeling so intense it had left her breathless. In that moment, she'd realized: she couldn't lose him. He was the first man who made her feel *safe*, who saw beyond her sharp edges to the vulnerability beneath.
But now, as she waited, doubt crept in. Would he think her too eager? Too forward? She was a virgin, a fact that felt both precious and embarrassing in a world that prized experience. What if he laughed? What if he'd only been toying with her?
The sound of a key turning in the lock jolted her from her thoughts. Her heart skipped a beat, then raced, thudding against her ribs like a caged bird. She stood, smoothing the fabric of her silk dress—a deep emerald that clung to her curves—and ducked her head,I dare not look him straight in the eye.
"Y-you're back," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Wu Yifan stepped inside, his eyes immediately finding hers. He looked tired, but there was a warmth in his gaze that made her knees weak. "I'm back," he said, his voice soft. He shut the door, and for a long moment, neither spoke. The air hummed with unspoken tension—excitement, nerves, *longing*.
Ye Xiwen gestured to the table. "I… I made some food. And wine. For us."
Wu Yifan's lips curved into a smile. "'Grapes and fine wine in a nightlight cup,'" he quoted, "'wanting to drink, the pipa urges on the horse.' Seems like tonight's going to be memorable."
Ye Xiwen blinked, surprised. "You know poetry?"
He laughed, sheepish. "Nope. Saw it in a drama once—*Laughing in the Mist*. Sounded fancy, so I remembered it."
She giggled, the sound light and musical, and the tension in the room eased. "This isn't a poetry contest," she chided, but there was no bite in her words. "Sit. Eat."
Wu Yifan pulled her onto the sofa, his arm sliding around her waist to pull her onto his lap. Ye Xiwen stiffened at first, her body rigid with shyness, but when she tried to squirm away, his grip tightened—gentle, but firm. "Relax," he murmured, his breath tickling her ear. "I won't bite… unless you ask."
Her cheeks flamed, but she settled against him, the warmth of his body seeping through her dress. He poured two glasses of wine, clinking his against hers. "A toast?"
"To what?" she asked, her eyes shining.
"To us," he said simply.
They drank, the wine sweet and rich on her tongue. Wu Yifan told stories—of his childhood, of the time he'd snuck into a zoo and fed bananas to a grumpy monkey, of the bartending contest that had turned his life upside down. Ye Xiwen laughed, her head thrown back, the sound filling the room. For the first time in years, she felt *light*—free of the weight of running a business, of guarding her heart.
As the bottle emptied, Wu Yifan's fingers brushed hers, sending a shiver down her spine. "You should… take a bath," she said, her voice thick with wine. "I'll wait for you. In the bedroom."
She fled before he could reply, her heart racing.
---
Ten minutes later, Wu Yifan stepped into the bedroom, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his waist. Ye Xiwen's breath caught. She'd seen him shirtless before, but never like this—his skin still damp from the shower, muscles defined but not bulky, a faint trail of hair leading below the towel.
"You… you're not wearing clothes," she stammered, turning away.
He stepped closer, his hands sliding around her waist to pull her back against him. "What's the point of clothes?" he murmured, his lips brushing her neck. "They'll just come off."
Ye Xiwen gasped, but she didn't pull away. He turned her in his arms, his gaze soft as he studied her face. "Are you sure?" he asked, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "We can stop. Anytime."
She shook her head, her eyes locking onto his. "I'm sure."
He kissed her then, soft and slow, not the hungry, demanding kisses they'd shared before. This was tender, *reverent*—a promise. Ye Xiwen melted into it, her arms sliding around his neck as she stood on tiptoe to press closer. Her fingers tangled in his damp hair, her body pressing against his as if she couldn't get close enough.
Wu Yifan's hands slid down her back, pulling her even closer, but he didn't rush. He kissed her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her collarbone, each touch gentle, questioning. Ye Xiwen arched into him, a soft moan escaping her lips as his hands slipped beneath her dress, caressing her waist.
"Tell me what you want," he whispered.
"You," she breathed. "Only you."
He lifted her easily, carrying her to the bed. The lamp cast their shadows on the wall—two figures merging, becoming one.
Outside, the moon dipped below the clouds, It seemed as if they didn't want to disturb.
Tonight, there was only them.