18 ☪ Hot Romance 18
◎Hiding in Cen Cen’s Arms and Crying◎
The next day, dawn had just broken dimly.
The sensor night light on the bedroom bedside table went out, plunging the room briefly into darkness.
Morning light filtered through the gap in the curtains, shining right into Song Chan’s eyes. Her relaxed brows furrowed slightly. She raised her hand to block that sliver of light and shifted her body to find a comfortable position.
Only when Song Chan turned did she realize a firm, powerful arm was pinned beneath her. Sensing her movement, that person bent his arm and effortlessly pulled her into his embrace.
Under the silk quilt, Song Chan’s soft skin warmed Su Yicen’s solid muscles. Her body was soft and fluffy, feeling wonderful cradled in his arms.
But being confined in Su Yicen’s arm by him left Song Chan unable to budge.
She had no strength to move anyway. Her whole body felt like it was falling apart, aching all over unbearably, just like the day after climbing a mountain.
It was probably to prove he didn’t need those three little tricks at all. Last night, Su Yicen had delved into the academic study of bodies with her for far too long.
The phone charging on the bedside table vibrated nonstop, message alerts buzzing incessantly, teasing at her heart.
Song Chan propped herself up on one elbow and reached for the incessantly vibrating phone. The quilt slipped from her shoulder, baring her enviable figure. She grabbed the phone but before she could check the messages, she was drawn back into his arms.
The man’s cologne scent wrapped around Song Chan. Su Yicen buried his head in her neck, his jaw resting on her shoulder as their breaths intertwined.
He pulled the quilt over her considerately, covering her properly, then draped his arm across her once more.
Su Yicen’s expression was tender, his voice lazy. “Don’t fidget. Sleep some more.”
Daylight was still early, and it was a rare day off after her business trip. She did have time to lounge in bed.
But her earlier movement had dropped the phone between her and Su Yicen’s bodies. The quilt blocked her view, so she reached out to fumble for it.
The process inevitably brushed Su Yicen’s skin. The back of her hand grazed his abdomen, sending a ticklish itch that stalled his breath.
His dark eyes opened slowly, thick brows heavy with sleepy fatigue. Su Yicen’s gaze locked on Song Chan. He reached out and gripped the wrist of the hand still hunting for the phone.
His unchecked strength made Song Chan wince. She complained, “You’re hurting me.”
At her words, Su Yicen eased his grip on her wrist slightly but didn’t release it.
“Not sleeping anymore?” His drawn-out tail end carried a dangerous edge.
Song Chan wrenched her wrist free from his hold, yanked the quilt up to her neck, leaving only her head exposed.
Her lips, kissed slightly swollen, were red and plump, somewhat taut. Song Chan spoke crossly.
“Sleep by yourself.”
The coquettish allure from last night’s intimacy lingered in her look and voice, soft and whiny, unwittingly plucking at heartstrings.
Half the phone was pinned under Su Yicen’s body. Song Chan reached over, yanked it free, then rolled onto her side away from him, ignoring him.
Last night, the two of them had personally shredded the CP hype, but its heat hadn’t cooled. The #Chanyi Mianmian# BE entry lost its purple-red “爆” label later but still topped the charts.
CP fans hadn’t emerged from their grief when Su Yicen and Song Chan’s fans clashed on the hot search.
Cen Cen’s Little Happiness: 【That marketing leech still dares throw shade? Saying she doesn’t like our brother. Bet being called out by name tastes bitter. With that vixen vibe, who knows which guy’s arms she’s crying pitifully in…】
Greedy Cen Body Fan: 【Upstairs Cen stans, ever think Chanchan might be hiding in Cen Cen’s arms crying right now?】
Meow Skinny: 【Sisters, Chanyi Mianmian is already BE’d. The mains themselves jumped in to tear it apart. Wake up, stop shipping.】
Greedy Cen Body Fan: 【Aaaah! Don’t remind me! Let me live in my fantasy!!!】
Chanchan Greedy Army: 【Lines are drawn between both sides. Song Chan has her day job and isn’t an celeb. Going forward, don’t @ our Chanchan on Su Yicen-related topics.】
Song Chan’s Little Tail: 【Scooping up my sis! Sis shines solo! No @s from other camps (pray) (pray)】
Chan Yi Forever Mian Mian: 【Sisters, I’ve come to terms. No matter what they do, I forever ship live stream Cen Cen and Chanchan. Chanyi Mianmian flag stands forever!!!】
Chan Yi Mian Mian 99: 【Still saying it: everything can be fake, but Chanyi Mianmian must be real. Maybe they’re protecting each other—in a secret relationship, who knows.】
Song Chan skimmed the hot search and grasped the Weibo landscape.
Her fans, Su Yicen’s fans, and #Chanyi Mianmian# CP fans split into three camps. Fans mostly stuck to their own lanes, though a few unhinged solo stans stirred fights. The masses of #Chanyi Mianmian# CP fans remained lost in delusion.
These fans were bold in their imaginations—some even nailed the truth behind their CP-tearing dive. They weren’t secretly dating, but if fans uncovered their contractual secret marriage, the fallout would be massive.
Insisting it was mutual protection? Not wrong—Su Yicen had bailed her out of his own impulsiveness.
But seeing ‘hiding in Cen Cen’s arms crying’ made Song Chan’s heart lurch.
Last night was vivid: Su Yicen had indeed teased her to tears. But she hadn’t yielded, clambering up his neck to bite his shoulder hard in revenge.
The memory stirred ripples in Song Chan’s heart. Her body felt disassembled and reformed, soreness seeping into her bones.
Her fair, tender skin marked easily. Scattered red traces dotted her body—proof of Su Yicen’s teasing.
Song Chan scooted toward the bed’s edge but was hauled back by a strong arm before gaining distance.
Steady breaths warmed her ear, the heat fluttering her heart. Calmly, the man murmured in her ear.
“Chanchan, why are you so restless?”
Song Chan’s erratic heartbeat thundered harder.
Last night, amid the steamy intimacy, he’d called her so tenderly at the height of passion, drawing her deeper into abandon.
He held her gently, yet refused escape. Indefinable feelings swirled in Song Chan. She didn’t especially want to shove away this confining embrace.
Her feelings for the man beside her were murky. She wanted distance, yet couldn’t reject his closeness.
One thing was clear: they’d teamed up against family marriage nagging. The goal-tainted dynamic made her doubt the feelings’ purity.
Song Chan didn’t believe Su Yicen liked her. He likely just carried a childhood-tinted lens long faded from her memory.
Her emotions toward him? Blurry—not like, not hate. More like roof-sharing roommates.
Song Chan lowered her enchanting eyes to his encircling arm.
Now, though, their bond had edged closer.
Her phone buzzed relentlessly in her hand. Song Chan settled comfortably and unlocked the screen.
The notification bar brimmed with message threads, filling the screen—scrolling needed for the rest.
Every app on Song Chan’s phone had messages.
Parents, relatives, friends, colleagues—even her regular delivery guy—probed yesterday’s hot search.
Too many to sift; she didn’t know who to answer first.
Spotting 33 missed calls from her mom, Lady Xu, Song Chan wanted to vanish. Who knew how long the scolding would last.
The popping notifications made her head throb. Yesterday’s hot search severity hit home.
She bolted upright, startling Su Yicen from his light doze.
Su Yicen smacked his lips. His furrowed brows smoothed as he exhaled, heartbeat steadying.
Seeing her panic, he asked steadily, “What’s wrong?”
Song Chan eyed his silent phone by the pillow and countered, “Why’s your phone so quiet?”
“Powered off last night.” Unruffled, he added, “Busy. Didn’t want interruptions.”
The weighted tone lingered on the end.
Already frazzled, Song Chan chucked her phone at Su Yicen amid his teasing.
“Check it yourself. Yours is probably swamped too.”
Before she finished, he hadn’t even booted up.
The doorbell rang outside—urgent peals like a death knell.
Song Chan knew: this had exploded.
Su Yicen stayed unflappable, as if the crisis wasn’t his. He slipped into loungewear and sauntered to the door.
The video intercom showed Feng Zheng red-faced with anxiety, hair disheveled, jabbing the bell frantically.
Yesterday’s hot search had seemed hallucinatory. Confirmed real, Feng Zheng stayed up calling Su Yicen endlessly—no answers.
He’d stormed to the door at dawn.
Door open, Su Yicen—fatigued, languid—let him in, voice curt. “So urgent? What’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter?!” Feng Zheng’s eyes bulged, incredulous. “What did you do yesterday?…”
His voice trailed to silence. His gaze snagged on the red mark at Su Yicen’s collarbone.
No innocent, he knew a hickey. In Su Yicen and Song Chan’s home? Obvious.
Feng Zheng got it: why Su Yicen lately strutted like a Flower Peacock, grinning dopily at his phone, tail feathers primed. Half a year post-marriage cert, they’d finally scored.
“Song Editor here too?” Feng Zheng asked pointedly.
No reply needed—Song Chan emerged from the bedroom. Unlike Su Yicen’s casuals, she was polished, even sporting quick light makeup.
Feng Zheng nodded greeting. “Hello, Teacher Song.”
“Here about last night’s posts?” Song Chan asked politely.
He slapped his forehead, exasperated, sighing deeply.
“You two, why no heads-up before Weibo?”
“Public opinion’s wild now—ties to ZE Fashion collab, your careers. Not a game.”
Talk was cheap post-facto; now, damage control.
Su Yicen wasn’t rash—Feng Zheng knew best. Naming and dissing a celeb? He knew the risks.
But spotting Song Chan cleared all doubts.
Su Yicen embodied cool rationale usually. With Song Chan? Total opposite.
He transformed around her.
Su Yicen coughed lightly, cutting the ramble. He sank onto the sofa, eyes aloof as ever.
Feng Zheng underestimated him. Decisions came with plans.
Su Yicen stayed calm. “Publicly cutting ties with Miss Song? No issue—boosts both careers even.”
“Studio statement: just work collab.”
“For nasty comments, screenshot, lawyer letter, sue if needed.”
Feng Zheng nodded. Anxiety had blanked the obvious fix.
A statement would muzzle most fans.
Still uneasy: “This spin won’t tank the ZE Fashion deal?”
The person in charge of ZE Fashion’s 20th Anniversary Issue, Miss Song Chan, actually had no confidence deep down either.
“It should be fine. A magazine interview isn’t like filming a drama.”
“Besides, I’m not from the Entertainment Circle, so I don’t have that much influence.”
Feng Zheng turned his head toward Su Yicen again, hoping to seek an answer.
But his clear, cold eyes silently turned to Song Chan, and that coldness vanished as a smile unconsciously flickered in the depths of his gaze.
Su Yicen spoke unhurriedly, his words supplying the confidence that Song Chan lacked.
“Since Miss Song thinks it’s fine, then I feel it definitely is.”
After he finished speaking, he patted Feng Zheng’s shoulder and softly said in his ear,
“Then this matter will be troublesome for you, Brother Feng, to handle.”