“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have kissed…”
It wasn’t a real, aggressive kiss—just their lips touching, without any invasion. Perhaps he simply wanted to taste the tears on her lips.
Realizing this, Lan Yan’s heart raced even more.
She couldn’t breathe. She struggled hard against the hand Liang Jingchuan gripped, and she saw his eyelashes tremble slightly. He paused, then slowly opened his eyes as his head pulled back.
He released her hand and tilted his head, offering his cheek to her.
Making it easy for her to strike.
“You…” Lan Yan’s ears and neck burned intensely. “Do you think I won’t hit you?”
“I know you dare, of course.” After a few seconds of silence, Liang Jingchuan spoke, his voice hoarse and low. “You dare to hate me, despise me, cut ties with me… You just don’t dare to like me.”
“…Don’t flatter yourself!” Lan Yan heard her raised voice sharpen, distorting slightly. “You were the one who said we should be strangers. What do you mean now?”
“Yanyan, have you never considered that because of who I am now, there’s nothing I can do? If I were a stranger, I could do anything.”
“…”
“Everyone else has a chance to be your boyfriend. Only I don’t.”
…Her anger wasn’t truly aimed at him anyway—just his identity.
His deep eyes fixed on her, his tone earnest but without a hint of pleading. “Be fair to me, Yanyan.”
Lan Yan was speechless again. She turned her face away stubbornly. “…I said everything last time. You made me choose, and I did. I won’t change my mind—now please leave my room.”
Liang Jingchuan’s gaze lingered on her face for a long time. He said nothing more and walked toward the door.
He pressed down the handle, opened it, stepped out, and closed it behind him.
He went to the living room and sat on the sofa. Moments later, he leaned his head back against the backrest.
His ears still burned, his heartbeat unsteady. His heart and lungs ached as if starved of oxygen, making him wonder if they were about to give out.
He couldn’t recall the feel of her lips—that moment was pure impulse.
He had undergone a painless gastroscopy during his checkup, and the memory under anesthesia was blank. Right now, that instant’s memory was completely blank, as if deleted.
But he remembered the taste of her tears—clear and salty with a faint bitterness. Strangely hot, or perhaps he was confusing illusion with reality.
She had cried for Chen Boyu once, and for him once.
Tied now, wasn’t it?
Liang Jingchuan took a deep breath and stared fixedly at the door diagonally ahead.
After an unknown time, he heard a click—the door actually opened, as if responding to his hopes.
Lan Yan’s face looked extremely unpleasant, mixed with obvious embarrassment.
She walked over, her gaze not lingering on him for a second, still dutifully playing the role of “stranger.”
She reached the sofa, bent down to unplug the charger from the nearby outlet, then turned without hesitation and headed back the way she came.
“That’s mine.”
Lan Yan froze, looked down—clearly her own, with a sticker on the charger head, easy to distinguish.
She turned and glared at Liang Jingchuan, shooting him a “are you insane?” look before striding back to her room.
The door slammed shut with a thunderous bang, like a protest.
Liang Jingchuan propped his face in his hands and let a laugh escape from his palm.
/
Lan Yan wanted to hide in her room longer, but she hadn’t washed up yet, and Lan Junwen and Liang Xiaoxia had returned with late-night snacks.
Liang Xiaoxia knocked lightly on the door. “Asleep yet, Yanyan? Come out for some wonton soup.”
Lan Yan agreed and opened the door to head to the dining room.
Liang Jingchuan was helping unpack the snacks—thin-skinned mini wontons that would disintegrate if soaked too long in the soup, so the solids had been separated from the broth.
He focused on untying the stubborn plastic handles, looking calm and composed, perfectly proper.
This pervert only dared commit his crimes when the adults weren’t around.
As if sensing her hostile glare, he looked up, turned to her, and gave an innocent “what’s wrong?” smile.
“Uncle, do you want some?”
“We already ate. This is for you and Yanyan,” Lan Junwen replied.
Liang Jingchuan fetched two bowls, divided the wontons in half, added broth, placed chopsticks on the rims, and pushed them across.
Lan Yan shifted her stool to the opposite end of the round table’s diameter from him—far enough to mind their own business.
The portion was a bit much; Lan Yan figured she couldn’t finish it. She got up, grabbed another bowl from the kitchen, and scooped out six wontons.
“Auntie, want some more?”
“No, can’t eat another bite. Give the leftovers to Jingchuan—the boys have big appetites.”
Liang Jingchuan’s gaze turned her way.
Lan Yan expressionlessly dumped the six wontons back into her own bowl.
…She’d rather burst than give him any.
Fortunately, the wontons were small; they didn’t actually stuff her to bursting.
After finishing, Lan Yan carried her bowl to the kitchen, dumped the broth, placed the bowl in the sink, and turned on the faucet.
She rolled up her sleeves, waited for the water to heat, rinsed the bowl, then pumped some dish soap from the large bottle.
Someone entered. Lan Yan didn’t turn until he walked right to the sink and squeezed in beside her.
She yielded space peaceably, but after dumping his broth, Liang Jingchuan came to vie for the faucet space.
Lan Yan turned to him, hoping for some self-awareness, but he stood firm.
She simply tossed the bowl down, rinsed her hands hastily under the warm water, and tried to withdraw—but her hand was grabbed.
Like a static shock through her fingers, jolting her heart.
Lan Yan yanked hard; Liang Jingchuan released calmly, as if she were overreacting.
She instinctively glanced at the kitchen doorway—good, Lan Junwen and Liang Xiaoxia were still in the living room.
She wanted to curse him but remembered strangers didn’t get that privilege.
She stormed out of the kitchen, fuming.
She dawdled in the dining room a bit. When Liang Jingchuan emerged, she returned to the kitchen.
The sink was empty; the bowl she’d abandoned had been washed by him along the way.
After killing more time, Lan Yan went to the bathroom to wash up.
The water heater wasn’t instant; the first person couldn’t linger, or the next would wait half an hour for hot water.
Convenience for others—that had been their unspoken agreement when sharing the guest bath before. Whoever went first wrapped up quickly.
This time, Lan Yan deliberately dragged her feet inside, using up all the hot water before emerging.
She hadn’t washed her hair today, leaving the room steamy. She opened the door.
To her shock, Liang Jingchuan stood right there, arm raised as if about to knock.
Her heart nearly leaped out.
She schooled her face and tried to sidestep him to her room, but she heard his lowered voice, out of nowhere: “I think your suggestion to call me ‘brother’ is actually pretty good. I’m okay with it now. Go ahead.”
“…” Lan Yan glared at him.
He leaned his head down, voice even lower with a hint of amusement. “Are you really never going to speak to me again?”
Lan Yan ignored him and tried to pass; he shifted to block her. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have kissed…”
Lan Yan’s mind exploded. Reflexively, she reached to cover his mouth.
Her palm met his lips—warm and soft.
As if burned, she yanked her hand back instantly.
Liang Jingchuan’s smile deepened.
She switched directions to break through; he stepped to block again, using his height shamelessly.
“Say something to me, and I’ll let you go,” Liang Jingchuan said softly.
Lan Yan simply stepped back, crossed her arms, and glared in standoff.
“Really not talking to me?” Liang Jingchuan asked again.
Lan Yan answered with silence.
After a moment, Liang Jingchuan laughed helplessly and stepped aside.
Lan Yan brushed past his shoulder and headed to her room, but at the bathroom door, she heard a lazy drawl: “Lan Yan is a pig.”
“You’re the pig!” Lan Yan whipped around.
Liang Jingchuan raised his brows, face lit with triumphant glee.
“…”
She knew what it meant to be furious now.
Perhaps because of that bowl of wontons, Lan Yan’s stomach stayed full, keeping her awake. She binged shows until done, got up for the bathroom, lay back listening to white noise, and finally slept.
In the pitch-black room, she sat at the desk, arms around broad, straight shoulders. Skin pressed hotly together, scorching breaths landing one by one on her lips, her collarbone.
The fullness sharpened by plummeting fear—nostrils flaring, fingers touching… every sensation amplified. Those eyes, dark as abyssal pools, gazed up at her, and she drowned repeatedly in them.
Lan Yan jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.
She sat up abruptly, flipped the room light. In the mildly glaring brightness, she looked toward the desk.
Nothing there.
She exhaled long and hard, leaning back against the headboard.
It must be too long without sex, and without self-relief, to dream something so perverse.
As far as she remembered, her first such dream—utterly embarrassing.
After battling laziness briefly, she got up, opened the door quietly, and tiptoed to the bathroom.
After using it and washing her hands, she turned off the light and closed the door, heading back—when rustling from the kitchen startled her.
She froze and saw someone emerge from the kitchen doorway.
Windows on both sides let in enough night light to make out the silhouette.
The figure at the door wore a short-sleeved T-shirt and home pants, holding a bottle of tea.
If she wasn’t mistaken, judging by the bottle shape, it was the kind he “didn’t like” and found “hard to drink.”
Liang Jingchuan showed no embarrassment, sipping tea as he walked over.
Up close, his features sharpened—matching the face in her dream perfectly.
Heat flushed her face; her ears burned. Lan Yan hurried to her room, slipping inside and shutting the door before he could speak.
She flopped onto the bed, then remembered unfinished business. She got up, fetched clean panties from the closet, changed, and crawled back under the covers.
Her bedside phone lit up.
Today was a mess of mishaps—she’d even forgotten do-not-disturb mode.
A new WeChat message.
[ljc: Since you’re up too, let’s chat? [Smile]]
Lan Yan blocked him straight away.
/
Lan Junwen and Liang Xiaoxia were open-minded parents who didn’t meddle with late sleepers.
Lan Yan’s schedule was mostly healthy, but the past half-year had worsened, insomnia frequent—thanks to Liang Jingchuan.
The next day, she slept until 11 a.m.
Waking to an empty house, she recalled it was only the 28th of the twelfth lunar month; no one was on break yet.
She steamed leftover rice from the fridge for lunch.
With free time, she didn’t know what to do. Lu Ying was still at work—no shopping buddy.
She scrolled her phone, opened a movie ticketing app to check films.
Spring Festival blockbusters wouldn’t hit until New Year’s Day; nothing appealing now.
She searched exhibitions—the city museum had a textile special exhibit. She’d seen a post from an industry friend but hadn’t had time.
She booked via the public account, returned to her room to change, and headed out.
Subway was convenient for the museum—direct line.
On the train, the family group chat buzzed. Liang Xiaoxia shared a dining coupon for a five-star hotel buffet, found while clearing her desk—forgotten from a brand collab.
Valid until next week, she asked if everyone was free that evening for dinner.
Lan Junwen replied first: possible.
Lan Yan said possible too.
Moments later, Liang Jingchuan quoted her “possible” with “+1.”
[Liang Auntie: Then meet at six in the hotel lobby.]
【Lan Gong: Yanyan, are you going directly, or should I drive back after work to pick you up?】
Lan Junwen’s home and the hotel were in the same direction.
【blueblue: I’m not at home. I went to the city museum to see the exhibition. No need to pick me up; I’ll go myself.】
【Lan Gong: Okay.】
【ljc: I’ll pick you up. Getting off work early today. It’s on the way to the city museum.】
…Even after blocking him, he still wouldn’t leave her alone. Could she just leave the group?
Lan Yan had an acquaintance in the field at the city museum whom she hadn’t seen in a long time. After she arrived, she sent the other woman a message and coaxed her out of the office. They chatted at the tea seating area in the cultural creative district, exchanging some industry news and gossip.
The colleague had something to attend to and didn’t stay long. Before leaving, she told her, “There’s a Ming dynasty noblewoman’s ceremonial robe in the exhibition hall that I helped restore. You must take a good look at it.”
Lan Yan smiled and said okay.
Afterward, Lan Yan entered the exhibition hall and browsed on her own.
To be honest, she didn’t really like viewing exhibitions with others because she took her time, not missing a single corner, and often scrutinized the restoration techniques of the museum’s artifacts from a professional angle. Spending ten or twenty minutes in front of one exhibit was common.
On a weekday afternoon, there weren’t many people in the exhibition hall, and Lan Yan enjoyed this feeling of having the place almost to herself.
After strolling halfway around, Lan Yan found the Ming dynasty noblewoman’s ceremonial robe her colleague had mentioned.
The fabric was satin woven with gold yingluo patterns. The cuffs featured subtle eight-treasure lion medallions on satin, while the shoulders draped with woven gold yingluo and assorted treasure motifs. From the center, pearl strings, golden-winged birds, and other religious patterns radiated outward.
She had seen reports of its excavation on Moments back then; it had been decayed beyond recognition. She hadn’t expected it to shimmer so brilliantly after restoration.
She took out her phone, pressed the camera lens against the glass to snap a photo, and sent it to her colleague with a row of thumbs-up emojis.
The colleague replied with a shy emoji.
Lan Yan took the opportunity to ask her a technical question. The two went back and forth, chatting for quite a while on WeChat.
After they finished, Lan Yan turned around. Next to it was a set of Ming dynasty wedding attire, and the woman standing in front of it looked somewhat familiar. She thought for a moment—it seemed to be Chen Boyu’s big sister-in-law, Yuan Qianyun.
Yuan Qianyun hadn’t noticed her. She walked past, but even after getting some distance, she still felt unwilling. Her feet paused, and she turned back.
The approaching footsteps made Yuan Qianyun lift her head. Their eyes met, and she clearly looked surprised.