Zhao Mei
The silk sheets whispered beneath my fingers like they were alive.
Too soft.
Too smooth.
Too intimate for a body that still felt bruised by the world.
I sat on the edge of the bed, spine straight, hands folded tightly in my lap, as if posture alone could keep my heart from betraying me. The nightgown Qiao Qiao had laid out earlier clung to my skin in a way I wasn't used to, light, fluid, barely there. Every breath felt louder in this room. Every thought felt exposed.
My first night as his wife
even if it was only on paper.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, Beijing glowed like a living creature, gold and white veins pulsing through the dark. The city never slept. It watched. Judged. Consumed.
I pressed my fingers to my wrist without thinking.
The place where Wei had held me earlier.
My heart skipped.
Wei.
The name slid through my thoughts like a forbidden prayer. Saying it in my head already felt dangerous. When he'd said my name earlier, quietly, firmly, like it belonged in his mouth, something inside me had shifted in a way I didn't understand.
I stood up, unable to stay still, pacing the room barefoot. The carpet swallowed my steps. Everything here absorbed sound, as if this place didn't want emotions echoing too loudly.
I caught my reflection in the glass.
Flushed cheeks.
Wide eyes.
A woman I barely recognized.
"This isn't real," I whispered.
But my racing pulse told me otherwise.
I needed water. Air. Something solid.
Without thinking too much, I slipped out into the hallway.
****
Zhang Wei
Control had always been my strength.
Tonight, it was slipping.
I stood by the window in my master suite, jacket discarded, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the city spread beneath me like a kingdom I'd conquered too early in life. The whiskey in my hand remained untouched.
My gaze drifted not to the skyline but to the corridor that led to the East Wing.
To her.
She was under my roof.
In my space.
A contract, I reminded myself.
A solution.
A shield.
Temporary.
Then I heard it.
Soft footsteps. Bare. Careful.
A sound that didn't belong in a house this controlled.
I turned
And stopped.
She stood halfway down the staircase, wrapped in silk and moonlight. The nightgown clung to her like it had been poured onto her skin, thin straps, bare shoulders, fabric so light it moved with every breath she took.
She looked nothing like the trembling girl from the courtyard.
Nothing like the woman who had stood stiffly beside me earlier, trying not to draw attention.
She looked... dangerous.
My gaze dragged down her before I could stop it.
Too exposed.
Too intimate.
Too much for a man who had trained himself not to look twice.
Then she stepped forward and collided into me.
Instinct took over.
My hands caught her waist.
Warm. Soft. Real.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the feel of her under my palms. Her scent clean, faintly floral hit me without warning, and my mind betrayed me with brutal precision.
White sheets.
The heat of her body beneath mine.
The way she had grounded me after months of restraint, months of discipline.
A sharp pull low in my stomach.
Too vivid.
Too dangerous.
Stop.
I tightened my grip for half a second too long, aware of how her palms flattened against my chest, aware of her breath hitching. My body reacted before my mind shut it down.
I hated that.
I forced myself to look away, jaw tightening as I released her slowly, fingers curling into fists at my sides.
She wasn't temptation.
She was responsibility.
Control returned in measured layers. I spoke before the silence could betray me.
"Couldn't sleep?"
****
Zhao Mei
His voice grounded me.
Low. Calm. Controlled.
I shook my head. "Too much... everything."
He didn't move away immediately, and the warmth of his hands lingered like a memory burned into my skin. Then he stepped back.
"Come," he said. "You need something warm."
****
The Kitchen
The kitchen was dim, lit only by under-cabinet lights and the distant glow of the city. It felt more human than the rest of the mansion, less ceremonial, more lived in.
Wei rolled up his sleeves, movements precise. I watched him pour milk into a pot, add spices carefully, like this small act mattered.
"You do this often?" I asked.
"Not often," he replied. "But when I do, I do it properly."
Of course.
I leaned against the island as he worked. When he turned, his gaze sharpened.
"Do you have a phone?"
The question startled me.
"A... phone?"
"I won't always be in the house," he said. "We need a way to communicate."
My fingers curled into the fabric of my gown. "I...I lost it. During the scandal. I don't know where it went."
The words felt small. Embarrassing.
"It's fine," I rushed to add. "I'll sort it out myself. You don't have to..."
"Mei."
His voice cut through mine, firm, calm, final.
I looked up.
"Whatever you need," he said quietly, holding my gaze, "you don't hesitate to ask."
My throat tightened.
"This isn't excess," he added. "It's basics."
Something unfamiliar settled in my chest.
"...Okay."
He handed me the mug. Our fingers brushed. Electricity shot through me, and I nearly spilled it.
"Careful."
The tea sloshed, warm against my skin.
"I've got it."
He took a cloth, dabbing gently at my fingers. His touch lingered too careful, too aware. His breath was close.
Our eyes met.
For one reckless second, I thought he might kiss me.
Then he pulled back abruptly, jaw clenched.
****
Zhang Wei
Too close.
Her skin was warm beneath my fingers, her breath unsteady. I saw the question in her eyes, the same one clawing at me.
What is this?
I stepped away because if I didn't, restraint would fail.
****
The Doorway
He walked me back upstairs, his hand resting lightly at the small of my back. Every step felt synchronized.
At my door, I turned to face him.
"Wei... thank you. For today. For everything."
He stepped closer, one arm braced above my head, caging me without touching.
"Don't thank me yet," he murmured. "This is just the beginning."
My hand lifted without permission, fingers brushing the faint red mark on his cheek.
"Does it hurt?"
His eyes darkened.
"Not as much as wanting to..."
He stopped himself.
Our foreheads touched. His breath brushed my lips.
I whispered his name like a plea.
"...Wei..."
"Go inside, Mei," he said roughly. "Before I forget this is temporary."
He stepped back.
****
Zhang Wei
On my side of the door, I stood perfectly still.
Her presence pressed through the wood like heat.
"Damn the contract, I need her."
The thought came unrestrained.
My hand hovered over the handle.
One turn.
Everything would change.
****
He let out a rough breath.
This is stupid.
He hadn't planned on coming back. He'd already walked away once tonight.
Told himself that almost-kiss in the kitchen was a mistake, just tired, wired, and a little drunk.
But his body wasn't listening.
All he could see was her in that thin silk nightgown under the moonlight.
The way her breath shook when he got close. How soft her lips looked, just waiting.
His jaw tightened.
Am I really losing it over her?
A cold shower would fix this. Easy. Done.
Instead, his hand turned the knob.
The door opened quietly.
Fuck it.
****
Zhao Mei
I was sitting on the edge of the bed when the door opened.
I didn't really think he'd come back.
But there he was Zhang Wei, standing in the doorway like he owned the air around him.
I stood up fast, heart pounding.
"You... haven't gone to sleep yet?" I asked, voice small.
He stepped inside and closed the door.
The click felt loud. Final.
He didn't say anything at first. Just looked at me, slow, heavy, like he was seeing right through the nightgown.
My skin burned under his stare. The silk was so thin I could feel every breath I took, my chest rising too fast, nipples hardened against the fabric.
"I tried," he said, voice low and rough. "Couldn't."
My heart skipped hard.
"Why not?"
He walked closer.
Close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him.
"Because I can't stop thinking about you, Mei," he said. "Don't know if it's the drink or if I'm just fucked up over you."
He stopped right in front of me.
Towering. Intense.
"I'm losing control."
I should have stepped back.
I didn't.
****
Zhang Wei
She didn't move.
That was all it took.
Everything inside him snapped.
He grabbed her waist and pulled her hard against him.
Her soft body hit his chest and heat exploded through him
,sharp, deep, straight to his dick.
She felt so good, so warm, fitting against him like she was made for it.
His mouth took hers.
Slow at first. Just tasting. Giving himself one last second to pull away.
She made a small sound a soft gasp and her hands grabbed his shirt.
That broke him.
The kiss turned hungry. His tongue slid against hers, taking, claiming.
She kissed him back just as hard, body pressing closer, hips brushing the bulge in his pants.
His hand moved down, gripping her ass through the silk, pulling her tighter.
She moaned into his mouth quiet, needy and it shot straight through him.
He didn't care about anything else right then.
Not the contract.
Not tomorrow.
Not how bad this could end.
He just wanted her.
His fingers dug into her hair, tilting her head so he could kiss her deeper.
He nipped her bottom lip, felt her tremble. Her body was on fire against his soft breasts pressed to his chest, thighs brushing his.
Then his phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
He ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Cold reality hit him.
He pulled back fast, breathing hard, forehead resting against hers. Both of them shaking.
Fuck.
If he didn't stop now, he'd have her on that bed in seconds nightgown gone, legs around him, buried deep inside her.
He looked at the screen.
Qin had learned long ago not to interrupt his boss unless it mattered.
This mattered.
He stood in the security office, monitors glowing softly around him.
The paused footage showed a young man in hotel uniform, eyes darting nervously as he spoke to someone off-camera.
"Sir," Qin said the moment the call connected, keeping his voice steady. "We confirmed the payment trail."
There was silence on the other end.
"The bellboy was paid through a layered account," Qin continued. "It took time to peel it back, but the origin points to Chen Rong."
A pause.
Qin inhaled once.
"There's more. The drink you consumed that night wasn't tampered with by hotel staff. It came from inside your circle. Someone with access."
Wei didn't speak.
"The bellboy has gone missing," Qin added. "No check-ins, no outgoing calls. Chen Rong's phone went offline an hour ago."
Qin lowered his voice.
"He's running."
Wei lowered the phone slowly.
The heat between him and Zhao Mei hadn't disappeared, it hovered, unfinished, almost painful. She stood there, lips flushed, breath uneven, eyes searching his face.
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
For a split second, he almost told her everything.
About Chen Rong.
About the setup.
About how close he was to losing control again.
Instead, his expression hardened.
"I have important matters to attend to," he said, the familiar calm returning like armor. "I shouldn't have come back."
Her shoulders stiffened.
"Oh," she murmured.
He stepped back, creating space where there had been fire seconds ago.
"Goodnight, Mei."
He turned before she could say anything else and walked out.
****
Zhao Mei
The door closed.
I stared at it long after he was gone.
The warmth drained from my face, replaced by a slow, creeping embarrassment that settled deep in my chest.
What was I thinking?
I pressed my fingers to my lips. They still tingled from his kiss, undeniable, real and yet suddenly it felt like something I had imagined alone.
"He regrets it," I whispered.
The thought hurt more than I expected.
I sat back down on the bed, heart aching in a way I didn't understand. I replayed everything—the way he looked at me, the way he kissed me, the way he pulled away so cleanly.
Maybe this is all this will ever be, I thought.
A contract. A moment. A misunderstanding.
I lay back, staring at the ceiling, feeling both too warm and strangely hollow.
****
Zhang Wei
Wei walked down the corridor without slowing.
Desire was a weakness he could not afford.
Chen Rong disappearing changed everything.
The setup was no longer hypothetical, it was active, moving, dangerous.
He stopped near the study, already shifting into strategy.
Find him.
Contain the damage.
End this.
But even as he focused, one thought burned beneath everything else;
If this goes any further... she will be pulled deeper into it.
And that, more than anything, unsettled him.
********
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