The next day, Hangbei cleared up after the rain.
The air carried the fresh scent of soil right after the rain, mingled with cool, moist air that poured into the room from the half-open window.
It swept away the stuffy heat from the heater and also carried off the lingering intimacy remaining in the room.
The wind rustled the curtains, and sunlight slipped through the gaps, shattering the room’s dimness as it shone on Song Chan’s face, gilding her with a layer of gold.
A cool breeze brushed her nose tip. Song Chan wrinkled her nose at the dazzling light and lifted a hand to shield her eyes.
Scattered fragments of memory from the night before flickered intermittently in her mind.
Song Chan mocked herself over those steamy, seductive scenes filling her head.
“Another wet dream? With Su Yicen this time?”
The curtains swayed in the wind, sunlight flashing on and off across her body.
The hand rubbing her head suddenly froze. Song Chan stared at the familiar yet strange room, taking a long moment to process it.
The room had an extremely minimalist style, almost identical to her own bedroom—even the layout was basically the same—but it was even more stark and cold, decorated entirely in muted black and white tones, just like its icy owner.
She realized this was Su Yicen’s bedroom.
At that moment, Song Chan finally pieced it together. The scenes in her memory weren’t a dream after all.
She instinctively tugged at the dark gray blanket over her body. The faint, elegant cologne scent on it was unmistakably Su Yicen’s.
She paused for a second, then her senses sharpened to their peak. She felt the strange soreness radiating from all over her body, and the once-blurry images in her mind sharpened into crystal clarity.
Their naked bodies intertwined in this room, taking and demanding, reveling wildly, embracing as they sank deeper into ecstasy.
Suddenly, Song Chan remembered everything.
She had gotten drunk. She had pounced on Su Yicen. And she had slept with him.
Her heart clenched hard. Song Chan froze as she realized the scenes in her memory weren’t a dream—they had really happened.
Though the secret marriage agreement didn’t prohibit sleeping together, for a pair of adults living under the same roof, especially in a drunken, muddled state, things heating up inevitably seemed unavoidable.
Su Yicen was the Top Idol, after all—his looks and body were beyond reproach. No matter how she thought about it, she hadn’t exactly come out on the losing end.
And most importantly, they had a marriage certificate. It was all legal, so she shouldn’t face any legal liability.
The more she thought, the more her mind spun. Song Chan clutched her head with both hands, messing up her hair and flushing her face beet red.
In her ears, Zhou Qining’s question from yesterday echoed again: Was Su Yicen sexually frigid?
Now she could confirm it. He wasn’t frigid at all. Even holding back and restraining himself, he had still worn her out to the point she could barely take it.
Water rushed steadily from the bathroom nearby. Through the frosted glass door, she could vaguely make out the misty silhouette of the man’s naked body.
Her mind a total mess, she averted her eyes, not daring to look. She reached for her nightgown and bra fallen by the bed. But just as she sat up, the sound of running water stopped.
Su Yicen emerged in a bathrobe, the loose gap revealing glimpses of muscle. His damp hair dripped water, and his eyes flicked up, landing on her.
Song Chan halted her movements and yanked the blanket over her naked upper body. She squeezed her eyes shut, turned her head away, and buried her face in the blanket, pretending to sleep.
She could feel Su Yicen slowly approaching her. The sensation clawed at her heart, like slow torture.
Until that familiar voice sounded right by her ear—low, cool, and a bit teasing.
“Miss Song, sleeping with me and then turning hostile?”
His voice drew closer. Even through the blanket, she could feel his scorching gaze.
“Or were you just after my body?”
Last night’s memories resurfaced. Song Chan recalled that she had indeed said something like that.
Her face burned hotter, her breathing quickened. The air under the blanket wasn’t enough anymore; she was suffocating.
Song Chan threw off the blanket in self-defeat. “Fine, then pretend I was just after your body.”
Su Yicen’s lips curved slightly. He seemed satisfied with the answer and nodded, probing further.
“Then call me ‘husband’ and let’s hear it.”
Meeting his eyes looking down at her, Song Chan’s grip tightened on the blanket edge. She turned her head away.
Though they had just shared the most intimate contact, they still weren’t that close at the end of the day. She couldn’t bring herself to say that.
“I mistook you for someone else.” Song Chan feigned casualness. “We’re all adults here. No need to take this to heart.”
“Mistook me? No need to take it to heart?”
His upturned eye corner stayed calm, but Su Yicen furrowed his deep brows and pressed her. “Who did you mistake me for?”
She hadn’t expected him to take it so seriously. Song Chan felt a twinge of guilt.
Normally, the woman came out worse off in situations like this, but right now, she felt like the heartless slag woman.
No escape. She decided to just own it and blurted out a male celebrity’s name—the only rising star who could rival Su Yicen in popularity.
“Zhou Chiyu.”
She even justified it confidently. “Is that weird? He’s super popular too. I like his looks—no issue there.”
Su Yicen didn’t call out her bluff. He turned toward the wardrobe and let out a cold snort.
“Your taste is pretty awful.”
Song Chan shot back without backing down. “And you? Didn’t you call specifically to say you weren’t coming back? So why did you?”
“Was it because of me?”
A flicker of surprise crossed Su Yicen’s eyes. He blanked for a second before replying.
“I came back for a document. Didn’t expect to get held back.”
He turned to face her, meeting her eyes and raising a brow. He tugged at the bathrobe’s sash around his waist.
“You were too enthusiastic. I couldn’t hold out.”
Song Chan slammed her eyes shut, terrified of seeing his naked body. She felt pinned to the bed, unable to move.
By her ear, the man’s voice rang out, warm and teasing. “What are you afraid of? You’ve already seen it all.”
Song Chan kept her eyes squeezed shut and waved him off impatiently. “Just get out already.”
Su Yicen good-naturedly reminded her, “Song Chan, this is my bedroom.”
She pulled the blanket higher, covering half her face. The image of chasing him into his bedroom and pouncing resurfaced.
Song Chan opened her eyes and locked onto Su Yicen—bare-chested, toweling his still-dripping hair. Her gaze involuntarily drifted down, pausing for a split second on his shorts before snapping away.
That face, that body, wet and dripping—pure temptation. The words popping into her head made Song Chan inexplicably guilty.
She shrank into the bedding, her heart antsy like on a hot pan, her body helpless like fish on a chopping block. “Don’t you have a shoot today? And you’re going to the next city over. I’m just reminding you out of kindness—don’t be late.”
Su Yicen’s lips hooked up. He pulled a neatly ironed shirt from the closet, moving unhurriedly.
“No rush. I can do the interview first.”
“Miss Song hasn’t forgotten, right? You’re the one who made the ZE Fashion collaboration happen.”
Her foggy brain cleared instantly. Song Chan’s heart sank as she realized what he meant.
Su Yicen’s collaboration with their magazine had been set three months ago. The editor-in-chief had negotiated endlessly with his team but failed due to scheduling conflicts.
The importance of the 20th Anniversary Issue went without saying. With no other options, Song Chan had gone straight to the man himself through back channels, finally securing the exclusive interview for that issue.
But right now, her focus was: “So, you’re coming to our company today?”
Su Yicen countered, “Is that inconvenient for you?”
Of course it was. She could barely face him at home from the embarrassment—let alone in her work environment.
Su Yicen said understandingly, “If it’s inconvenient, I won’t go.”
That one line shut down all of Song Chan’s excuses. If Su Yicen skipped ZE Fashion’s 20th Anniversary Issue after the company’s half-year prep, it would all be for nothing. She only regretted not requesting more vacation days.
“Go ahead. I’m totally fine.”
Even covered by the blanket, her naked body left Song Chan feeling utterly insecure—especially facing him now that he was fully dressed.
She couldn’t help urging again, “Su Yicen, can you hurry up?”
As he buttoned his shirt, Su Yicen didn’t speed up at all and reminded her once more.
“Miss Song lying in my bed and keep urging me to hurry up—easy to get the wrong idea.”
A faint smile lifted his alluring, refined face. His eyes dropped to the nightgown slipped off by the bed as he fastened his last cufflink with one hand.
He strolled to the bedside. The sudden closeness made Song Chan’s heart race wildly, a flush blooming on her face.
Seeing her shyness, Su Yicen stopped teasing. He bent down, picked up her clothes, and placed them by the bed.
“Did you drink so much yesterday because of the blackout or the thunder?”
The sudden question threw Song Chan off, but she answered honestly.
“Neither.”
“You’re not scared of thunder anymore?”
Surprise flashed in Su Yicen’s eyes, caught by Song Chan’s sharp gaze. She seemed to grasp what he meant.
She replied, “I’m not a kid anymore. I stopped being scared of thunder ages ago.”
Su Yicen fell silent. “Best to drink less anyway. Every time I see you drink, you get wasted.”
Song Chan frowned. “Just twice, and you happened to catch both.”
That other time was Song Chan’s one and only drunken fiasco—the memorable encounter etched in Su Yicen’s mind.
Back in high school, after breaking up with her first love, she had gotten smashed on the roadside, sobbing uncontrollably—until Su Yicen recognized her, picked her up, and took her home.
She remembered Su Yicen getting an earful from Grandpa Su afterward. Not long after, trouble hit the Su Family, he got sent abroad, and they lost contact until reuniting.
Song Chan fumed inwardly. In her whole life, she’d only embarrassed herself once, and Su Yicen remembered it crystal clear.
Impatient, she said, “I barely remember any of that.”
Only then did Su Yicen realize he had been stuck in the past—the past Song Chan didn’t even recall.
Maybe keeping some distance was what made her comfortable.
He nodded lightly, swallowing his words, leaving only: “I’ll wait for you outside.”
The door clicked shut, returning the room to quiet.
Song Chan patted her chest, trying to calm her pounding heart.
She slipped on her nightgown and cracked the door, darting quickly into her own bedroom.
Warm water cascaded over her body, washing away the soreness. Song Chan lightly touched the red marks dotting her skin from collarbone to waist—scattered across her entire body, more vivid proof than any memory.
From today on, they were no longer the nominal contract couple she had claimed.
After dawdling in her room for over an hour, Song Chan emerged to find Su Yicen still there.
He sat on the sofa with legs crossed, his dark eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses fixed intently on the tablet in his hands, handling unavoidable work.
As heir to Su Corporation, Song Chan knew he would take it over eventually. He devoted all his spare time to managing the company, working so hard it seemed he might drop dead from overwork any moment.
Seeing her come out, Su Yicen closed his tablet and gestured to the dining table. “Eat something before you go.”
Song Chan glanced over, unable to hide her surprise. The table held her favorite little pastries and breakfast in a warmer.
Su Yicen walked over and ladled a bowl of hangover soup from the pot, setting it before her.
“Drink some. It’ll ease your headache.”
Song Chan stared at him in a daze, feeling like she didn’t recognize the man in front of her.
No matter how she looked at it, he seemed worlds apart from the aloof Top Idol Su Yicen on TV.
His voice stayed even, emotionless. “Relax, I didn’t poison it.”
She had no idea when he had gone out to buy the breakfast pastries. Out of politeness, Song Chan took two token bites before grabbing her bag to leave.
Behind her, the man’s cool voice called out. “Let’s go together.”
She was already avoiding him like the plague. Song Chan waved him off. “No need.”
“No need to feel guilty. We’re just on the way.” Su Yicen fastened his watch and reminded her, “Besides, you’re the one who’s about to be late now.”
“Who’s guilty? I just…”
Before she finished, Su Yicen strode ahead, and her feet unconsciously followed—as if to prove her innocence, that she felt no guilt at all.
Somehow, she ended up in the car with the Top Traffic Idol. By the time Song Chan realized and wanted to bail, it was too late.
They hadn’t even gotten close to the company building when Song Chan spotted Su Yicen’s massive fanbase surrounding the area downstairs, blocking it off so tightly that not a drop of water could leak through.
Seeing the scene, Song Chan suddenly felt like she was riding a tiger and found it hard to dismount.
She hunched over, clinging to the car window and only daring to peek out with her eyes. “Have the driver pull over to the roadside and let me out.”
Su Yicen remained utterly calm and composed. He pulled her wrist to make her sit properly and pointed at the fans across the street, who had already spotted his car and were cheering excitedly.
“If you get out now and the fans or paparazzi spot you, a trending topic will pop up on the hot search soon.”
“Su Yicen spends the night trysting with a mysterious woman, romance suspected to be exposed.”
Meeting Song Chan’s panicked gaze, Su Yicen enunciated each word deliberately.
“If you want to go public right away, I wouldn’t mind at all.”