12. Containing Warmth

The emergency exit sign flickered faintly in green. Wen Shuhan avoided the center of the dance floor, deliberately choosing the side corridors to walk through. The roar of voices gradually faded behind her.

Following the restroom sign overhead, she wandered through winding hallways, the lights growing noticeably brighter. After a moment’s thought, a girl suddenly appeared from the side ahead, scanning around before calling out to her, "Hello?"

Wen Shuhan froze in place. The girl stepped closer, "Hey, you look a bit familiar."

Wen Shuhan smiled politely at the unfamiliar brunette with dark eyes. "Sorry, I don’t know you."

"Is that so? No worries, just asking you something." The girl pulled out her phone, screen facing her. "Did you see him inside?"

The screen displayed a photo.

Wen Shuhan hesitated for a moment.

The person in the photo was clearly Chen Yansi, in a vintage-style bar decorated in an old-fashioned way, surrounded by blondes with blue eyes. It was evidently taken abroad.

The girl shook the phone. "You didn’t see him?"

Wen Shuhan came back to herself and replied calmly, "I saw him. He’s on the third floor."

"Alright, thanks." The girl smiled warmly and left on her own.

Wen Shuhan sensed something subtle but it quickly dissipated.

She continued forward but soon realized she might have taken a wrong turn; further inside should be the staff rest area.

Just as she was about to turn back, she caught sight of two figures intimately embracing around the corner of the corridor.

The woman was tall, wearing a black dress, leaning against the wall. The man in front of her held her roughly around the waist.

Their faces were close, locked in a heated kiss, their distance barely a thread apart.

She lifted her eyes and smiled seductively at him, a few strands of black hair stained with messy lipstick clinging to her lips.

"Your big brother would kill you, wouldn’t he?" she asked.

"Are you just hoping I die?" the man teased, brushing the hair from her mouth and pressing his lips down on hers again, breathing heavily.

It was Lu Chenghao and Lu Ning.

Wen Shuhan pretended not to see and quickly turned to leave.

Just as she was about to turn the corner, she bumped hard into a chest.

"..."

So familiar.

A lazy, smiling voice sounded above her head: "Going back?"

Chen Yansi was looking down at her.

She instinctively kept silent about what she had just seen, speaking bluntly, "You can’t go ahead."

"Oh." He bent down, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he studied her face. "Then how can you be sure you can get through from me?"

Wen Shuhan was silent, thinking of a way, and tried to slip past him. But the next moment he caught her collar and pulled her back.

"Wasn’t going to the restroom? I’ll take you."

She was practically dragged along, annoyed. "How did you know?"

He snorted coldly. "Otherwise, why would you keep wandering around? Trying to find some lucky spot to dig a rabbit hole?"

"..."

Chen Yansi led her through a private passage into a suite decorated in a cold, elegant style.

Ulive didn’t have a hotel business; this suite seemed specially prepared for him. Several pieces of his clothing hung on a tree-branch-shaped rack behind the door, freshly pressed by a dedicated attendant.

This was entirely his domain. Wen Shuhan silently realized staying here any longer wouldn’t bode well.

So she washed her hands in the bathroom and came out.

She closed the door behind her and turned to see Chen Yansi’s back.

He was fiddling with something small on a round table near the windowsill.

"Sss—"

A faint sharp intake of breath.

She blinked slowly, detecting a trace of unusual pain in his voice.

Moving closer, she asked, "What’s wrong?"

Chen Yansi turned calmly to her, raising his slender index finger.

She was startled.

There was a large gash running along the pad of his finger, blood pooling in his palm.

She looked at the round table again.

He was changing the blade on his razor.

But since when had he become so careless? Getting cut while changing a blade.

Chen Yansi withdrew his hand, twirled the razor in his hand, and offered it to her. "Help me?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "Help you with what?"

"Shave."

"..."

He didn’t seem to have any visible beard.

What kind of extreme perfectionist was this?

As she was silently cursing, he added calmly, "My hand is injured. I can’t move it."

She raised an eyebrow. "What about the other hand?"

Chen Yansi tilted his head slightly, voice laced with sarcasm. "Wen Shuhan, it’s only been two years. Forgot already? My right hand isn’t my dominant hand."

"...Oh." She had just not thought of it.

"Let’s disinfect the wound first. Is there a first aid kit?"

"In the cabinet."

"Okay."

She found the kit.

Chen Yansi sat with legs apart in the armchair. She moved a chair beside him, first wiping the wound with antiseptic, then carefully wrapping it with a smaller bandage.

"The blade isn’t rusty, right?"

After asking, she cautiously looked up.

Her gaze collided with his calm eyes, emotions stirring quietly in the smallest details.

The air hung still for a moment.

"No," he said flatly, watching her.

"Oh..." She quickly lowered her head, finishing the last wrap of the bandage and softly replied, "Good."

With the wound tended, the razor unexpectedly ended up in her hand.

Chen Yansi disliked electric shavers and preferred a slim handheld one.

After she inserted the new blade at the top, she sat back down.

Normally, the newly grown pale stubble could only be seen up close; from half a meter away, she could only estimate roughly.

She warned him, "I can’t see clearly. Don’t move, or I might hurt you."

"Mm." A single syllable came from his throat.

She shifted the chair closer, realizing she needed to lean in more to reach his face.

But going further would hit the low armrest of the chair.

Just as she was pondering how to adjust, he suddenly reached out, grabbed her waist, and pulled her in. Her eyes widened as she fell onto his lap.

Breath stopped for a second. She propped herself up on his chest, her ears burning, flustered and breathless. "You—"

"Spread your legs, sit on me." He cut her off, his tone almost commanding.

Or perhaps, in this situation, a friendly instruction.

She didn’t bother to analyze, just felt awkward.

Slowly, she parted her legs, her upper thighs pressing against his firm hips.

He released his grip and chuckled through his nose, "Why blush? Isn’t this more convenient?"

She gritted her teeth, wiped foam with more force onto the lower half of his face in mock retaliation.

Coldly she said, "If you say another word, you can do it yourself."

After a few seconds, they both quieted.

The blade touched skin, gliding over a thin layer of foam. She moved her wrist carefully, trying to shave the faint stubble invisible to the naked eye.

There was a mature, intangible scent of masculinity about him. Under the sharp blade, he remained perfectly still, eyes half-closed tiredly, gazing at her without moving.

Wen Shuhan noticed his gaze.

She didn’t want to be stared at.

His eyes were often inscrutable; she never knew whether at the deepest core they held joy or irritation, emptiness or some nameless longing.

Summoning courage, she placed her free hand over his eyes.

"Can you close them?"

He said nothing and closed his eyes.

His lowered lashes brushed her palm.

Ticklish.

Finally, the foam was shaved clean.

Some cool white foam clung to her fingers, which she wiped off with a tissue.

"All done. Very clean."

Wen Shuhan said coldly and was about to get off when he suddenly wrapped his arms around her slender waist, pulling her back.

"What’s the rush?" His eyes darkened.

She avoided his gaze, seriously saying, "Xu Yue and the others must be worried."

Chen Yansi smiled.

"Not necessarily."

He pulled out his phone and played a short video sent by a security guard, holding it upright before her. The audio and image played simultaneously:

"Break up! You two have to break up. Look at this card—he obviously has someone else outside!"

...

"Don’t be anxious, let me explain this Wheel of Fortune... Next month, or at the latest the month after, there’s going to be a sum of money coming in!"

It turned out Xu Yiran had brought a deck of tarot cards, attracting a crowd of girls lining up for fortune-telling on love and wealth.

The booth was so lively it was almost surrounded. Xu Yue helped add contacts on WeChat nearby, expanding the online fortune-telling business.

"…"

Xu Yiran truly was a top salesperson at a major internet company—she could make money anywhere.

Putting the phone aside, Chen Yansi pulled her into his arms, voice low and a bit hollow, "Rest with me for a while."

Wen Shuhan’s cheek pressed against his neck, feeling his rapidly beating pulse.

Since his return to the country, he had taken full charge of most of the company’s affairs.

He seemed efficient, as if he could handle everything perfectly, but he was human, not a machine—he must get tired eventually.

Moved by a tender empathy, her urge to leave slowly faded.

Gradually, she heard his even, shallow breathing.

Already asleep?

The floor heating warmed the room, wrapping every inch of exposed skin in heat.

Weariness washed over her, and she closed her eyes too.

...

"Hanfan."

Chen Yansi seemed to be calling her.

A subtle sensation of a broad warm hand stroking her cheek roused her slowly. She opened her eyes.

Suddenly realizing something, she struggled to pull away, but his hand pressed down, pulling her back.

So close, their breaths quickened, face to face.

His eyes flickered with restless desire.

He looked at her as tenderly as he had when she was eighteen—hesitant and shy. His gaze, cold and intense, held her warm eyes captive.

Unable to resist any longer, he leaned in and kissed her.

Their heat was fierce.

His lips moved from the corners of her mouth to her cheek, to her soft earlobe, then to her neck—lingering endlessly on the pale, delicate skin that belonged only to him.

She trembled slightly at the kiss but remained a little stubborn, furrowing her cool brows, turning her face aside.

Her heart was in turmoil.

To outsiders, Chen Yansi seemed indifferent and dismissive of desire, but with her, his passion was bold and unrestrained.

He kissed her neck, gently nibbling.

His movements were wild yet tender.

He breathed deeply, voice thick with the longing of a caged beast, rough and trembling, his adam’s apple bobbing with each word: "So obedient."

She took a deep breath and suddenly pushed him away.

The kiss ended abruptly. He looked at her, sharp and dark, as if sinking into some abyss, deep and unfathomable.

The mingled scents of juniper and bitter orange floated in the air, merging faintly with tobacco and lemon shaving foam.

"Hanfan." He stroked her cheek with restraint, his voice low and intimate, "Don’t you miss it?"

Every touch sent a delicate tickle through her. Her breath trembled. "Miss what?"

"Missing when we used to sneak kisses at home without the adults knowing, and you helped me in the bathroom—"

"Chen Yansi!" She panicked, cutting him off. "You were the one who decisively agreed to break up back then, and I think... I never really liked you, never did."

He ignored her words, caressing her soft hair, murmuring, "Don’t you miss it? I miss it terribly."

She tried to move away in a panic but he held her tightly.

"Take it off yourself." His tone suddenly turned cold.

She gritted her teeth, refusing to move. The next second, he forcefully pulled the clothing off her shoulder; her body froze.

"Chen Yansi!"

...

Wen Shuhan suddenly awoke.

Her heart still racing, she breathed shallowly and glanced around to confirm it was reality.

Chen Yansi was still asleep.

It was a dream.

Fortunately, just a dream.

—Knock, knock.

Someone was knocking?

The sudden sound made her anxious. She shook him gently: "Chen Yansi, someone’s at the door."

Chen Yansi’s eyes were closed, breathing steady.

"Chen Yansi?" She shook him again.

"Wen Shuhan, don’t move." His voice was low, lazy, and tired.

"..."

So he wasn’t asleep after all.

The knocking sounded again.

He was indifferent, furrowing his brow slightly, suppressing a mild morning grump.

When she moved slightly, he hooked his arm around her and pulled her close again, his palm lightly stroking her hair. His voice was hoarse and soft: "There, be good."