After dinner, the group followed Fiona to a bar she recommended.
She was clearly a regular—she greeted the manager with ease. A booth had already been reserved. Bottles crowded the table, an ice bucket breathing out white mist under flickering lights, as if to suggest that clarity wasn't required tonight.
"One, two, three—"the game started.
Fiona caught the corner of a paper napkin between her teeth, lifting her brow in mock challenge.
Yeh's chest tightened.
By the time the napkin reached Jing, there was barely any left. Jing bit down without hesitation, smiling faintly, as if she knew she had an audience.
Then it was Lin's turn.The light swept across her profile. She lowered her head and took the napkin between her lips—calm, precise. Not flirtatious, yet impossible to ignore.
The paper hovered too close to her mouth. While Lin passed it on without a second thought, clearly familiar with the game.
It should be Yeh's turn. Yeh's heartbeat slipped out of rhythm. It's supposed to be a good opportunity to get close to Lin.
But Yeh knew she had crossed a line—one of proximity she never allowed herself. Instinct took over. She waved it off, reached for her drink and took a sip in surrender.
Lin smiled without saying something.
The next game was more direct.
"Pass the drink using your mouth."
The glass caught the light, sharp and glaring. Yeh held her breath without realizing it.
Halfway through, someone spilled the drink.
There were cheers. More drinking.
Yeh exhaled, only then noticing how tense her shoulders had been.
The next game came from Fiona's phone—clearly one she'd played often. Everyone tapped the screen. Land on one, kiss anyone you want. Land on six, drink.
Yeh hadn't caught what one meant at first.
Then Fiona leaned over and kissed one of the investor' staff. The girl accepted it easily, even enjoyed it.
Yeh's pulse quickened. She didn't want Lin to kiss anyone. She didn't want Lin to be kissed.
What Yeh feared happened anyway.
Lin landed on one.
Her eyes flicked briefly toward Yeh, then away. She leaned in and kissed Jing instead. The table erupted—clearly, people had been shipping them for a while.
For a moment, Yeh felt as if every question had been answered. Or maybe this was the answer she wanted—something definite, instead of uncertainty.
When it was her turn, she didn't even look at the phone.
"Another figure one," someone said.
Her mind went blank.
For others, the kiss was just part of the game.
For her, it was an option she had never used.
There was nothing unusual about women kissing women. But Yeh carried a secret only she knew: apart from her mother, she had never kissed anyone. This moment was too precious.
Refusing now would be awkward. Explaining would mean exposing herself completely—something she couldn't do.
She lifted her glass before she had time to think.
"That's a hard choice," she said lightly. "I'll drink."
The whiskey hit like fire.
Her throat, her chest, her stomach—all ignited. She forced herself to swallow. The burn briefly erased the room around her.
She told herself one thing:
Just this drink.
Just tonight.
After this, no more expectations for Lin.
She went through the rest of the games on autopilot—smiling, nodding, raising her glass.
She didn't look at Lin again.
The music stayed loud, but it felt distant, like she was watching through glass. The world moved. She stood aside.
At three at midnight, she was home.
Yeh showered, removed her makeup, placed her phone face down on the bedside table.
She wasn't as devastated as she'd expected. Years of emotional discipline had trained her well—when necessary, she knew how to detach quickly, how to let go.