Zong Yan did not intend to leave immediately after stepping out.
She surveyed the luxurious suite before walking straight to the wardrobe. As she pulled it open, a faint, woody fragrance drifted out. As expected, several changes of clothes were stored inside. She selected a pair of trousers and an inner layer that looked casual enough and changed out of her damp dress.
The dress had been paid for by the company; it was best not to ruin it. After finding a towel to dry her hair, she sat on the sofa and finally let out a sigh. A rare sense of aimlessness rose in her heart.
A moment later, the doorbell rang.
Somewhat puzzled, Zong Yan opened the door. A hotel waiter stood there holding an exquisitely packaged box. Seeing a stranger answer the door, the waiter looked surprised, but professional etiquette quickly suppressed any uncalled-for curiosity. After obtaining Zong Yan’s permission, she entered, keeping her eyes forward, and placed the box on the nightstand.
"Hello, these are the items requested by Young Master Si. Please check them at your convenience."
Zong Yan nodded.
The waiter bowed politely. Just as she was about to leave, she noticed the wet dress draped over a chair. "Would you like me to take that dress for dry cleaning? It can be returned to you within half an hour."
This was an unexpected stroke of luck. Zong Yan had been worrying about how she would return to the banquet later, and the hotel service had provided the perfect solution.
"That would be much appreciated."
"It is our pleasure."
Zong Yan marveled at the realization that hotels offered such services; having rarely stayed in places like this, it was a new experience for her. However... she ran her hand over the smooth, supple texture of the leather sofa. It was likely because this was the finest suite that it came with such comprehensive service.
This was the life Si Jiang was accustomed to.
After taking a tour of the suite and having her eyes opened to the resources enjoyed by the privileged class, Zong Yan took the only thing from the minibar that seemed appropriate for the moment—a bottle of mineral water. The label was entirely in a foreign language, and even the bottle was made of high-quality glass. Looking at the rest of the fridge, it was filled with imported liquors she had never seen before.
"..."
Zong Yan decided not to think about how much the bottle of water cost. She unscrewed the cap, gripped the water, and returned to the bedside. Her eyes fixed on the box on the cabinet. She took a sip of water, her fingers tapping against her knee as she pondered.
What could be inside?
When Si Jiang emerged, trailing steam and his face flushed with heat, he saw the woman who should have left. She was wearing his clothes, sitting on his bed, and reaching for the box.
She really hadn't left.
Before joy could even bloom in his heart, he immediately realized what that box was.
"Ahem! Ahem!"
Si Jiang coughed stiffly, clutching the belt of his bathrobe with some nervousness.
Zong Yan turned her head, her hand just landing on the box. "?"
"If you're cold, put some clothes on." She glanced at the man’s wide-open collar, which was loose almost down to his hips.
Si Jiang’s expression stiffened. "Thanks, I'm not cold!"
He deliberately pulled the knot of his belt tight, creating a perfect contrast between the curve of his waist and the breadth of his shoulders. Only... he nearly choked on his own breath from the force of it.
Zong Yan saw everything but chose not to expose him.
He had been throwing a tantrum in the bathroom just moments ago, but now the atmosphere between them had softened. Yet, this very softness made Si Jiang feel entirely ill at ease. He glanced again at the clothes Zong Yan was wearing. That was his favorite casual set from before the earthquake; he had worn it many times.
Shuffling in his slippers, the young master shoved his hands into his pockets—the pockets of his bathrobe—and paced aimlessly for a few steps. Under Zong Yan’s gaze, he forced himself to stand straight with feigned composure. Then, as if losing heart, he kicked off his slippers, strode to the minibar in three steps, opened it skillfully, and pulled out a bottle of red wine—
"What are you doing?" Zong Yan asked.
Her tone was flat, yet it seemed to carry a certain deterrent force.
Si Jiang’s movements froze. The cold bottle in his hand began to feel hot. "...None of your business."
Dammit, why did he instinctively reach for the wine? He didn't even want to drink. He just felt restless if he wasn't doing something.
"I wouldn't dare." Zong Yan stood up from the bed, set the half-finished water aside, and straightened her clothes. "Since Young Master Si is fine now, I'll be going. I'm borrowing these clothes for the time being. Once I change back into my dress, I'll have the hotel dry clean them and return them to you."
She was suddenly leaving.
Si Jiang shoved the wine bottle back in and slammed the fridge door. "I was just opening it to take a look!"
Fire began to rise in his eyes again as he looked at Zong Yan warily. It was as if she took one more step toward the door, he would explode with rage.
Zong Yan’s brow twitched, and she sat back down. She hadn't actually intended to leave yet; she had to wait for the dress to be returned.
The man, looking even thinner under the silhouette of his bathrobe, reluctantly inched his way over. Taking advantage of a moment when Zong Yan wasn't looking, he quickly snatched the box and hid it behind his back.
Zong Yan: "You..."
Before she could ask, he blurted out, "Why didn't you leave?"
Having said it, he stared intently into Zong Yan’s eyes, as if trying to judge whether she would tell the truth or a lie.
Zong Yan simply asked back, "Why do you ask?" Her gaze toward Si Jiang was equally focused.
Si Jiang gritted his teeth. "I asked you first."
Zong Yan: "That doesn't mean I have to answer first."
"You!"
Si Jiang was furious. Why had this woman become so slippery after not seeing her for over a year? Where was the rigid, blunt person from before? From the moment he saw Zong Yan, the fire burning in his heart had only grown more intense. He was reaching his limit.
He took a deep, struggling breath, his fingers curling into fists. "Zong Yan, do you know what it means for you to stay?"
Si Jiang’s bloodshot eyes carried a deluded obsession that threatened to consume everything.
Zong Yan looked back at him calmly, the corners of her mouth curving slightly. "What does it mean?"
Before the words had fully left her lips, she was tackled onto the incredibly soft silk sheets. Like a vicious hound, Si Jiang loomed over her, casting a shadow, his breathing heavy. His gaze looked as though he wanted to devour her.
Zong Yan frowned slightly but did not resist.
Si Jiang hated her gaze. He reached out to cover her eyes and said coldly, "My room isn't a place you can stay in just because you want to. If you stay, you have to pay a price."
Ah, the "price" again.
Zong Yan simply blinked, indicating she had heard him. She could feel how agitated the person pinned over her was. The palm covering her eyes was damp, and the artery at his wrist seemed to throb forcefully with his rapid heartbeat.
She heard the sound of the box opening. A rustling followed. Something was being fitted onto her.
Zong Yan’s eyes widened. Before she could sit up to look, Si Jiang grabbed a blanket and threw it over her face, his determination to keep her from seeing absolute.
She was startled and suspicious; she had never expected Si Jiang to take such an action. A weight settled on her waist.
She heard a watery sound, somewhat sticky, as if things were being rubbed together and then forced apart. Finally, it was all filled and smeared into the same place.
A pair of trembling hands pressed against the sides of her face, and chaotic, disordered breaths brushed against her ear.
"I hate you."
"I..." He sucked in a breath of cold air, letting out a pained gasp. His voice began to tremble. "Hate... you. Ha—"
Si Jiang’s voice seemed to be enduring some extreme agony, yet within that pain was hidden the realization of a twisted dream.
"I... ugh!"
His eyes went wide, his legs going weak as he looked at Zong Yan, who was no longer remaining silent.
"I heard you."
She wasn't deaf; he didn't need to repeat it over and over.
The bedframe of a top-tier suite in a five-star hotel was likely made of the finest wood, naturally exuding a low-key fragrance. The mattress, quilts, and sheets were custom-made, designed both to give distinguished guests the best sleep and to provide a unique enjoyment for their private lives.
When shifting, the satin fabric would not chafe the body or damage the guest's skin; it was slippery and cool, and even if dampened by moisture, it would absorb it quickly. Thus, even with one's face pressed against the sheets, one would only feel the softness of the fabric and the gentle friction against one's hair.
But if gripped with force, it would still bunch up into a mess of violent wrinkles, leaving behind creased marks once released. Though the mattress had excellent elasticity, it would sink into deep hollows when the pressure was uneven, but it would return to its original shape as soon as the weight shifted. No matter how great the compression, the sounds it made were very faint, as if it could absorb all noises that were not meant to be heard.
With such fine bedding, if you knelt upon it for half an hour, you would feel nothing but the excellent rebound it provided, allowing for deeper movements; everything else would be disregarded.
"Whew..."
He had just showered, and now his body was dirty again.
Si Jiang shook his sweat-drenched head. Originally, because of the car accident, he had a headache and dizziness, along with an upset stomach. Now the dizziness and stomach pain were gone, but his abdomen and thighs were aching terribly. Of course, the most uncomfortable area was even more specific.
He bit his own arm, unwilling to let out any vulnerable sounds, his teeth fitting perfectly into the old bite marks on his skin. During those most desperate years, he had gnawed on the flesh of his wrist like this, wishing he could bite through every vein to make time flow faster. Then he wouldn't have to face the tragic reality.
The reality of being heartlessly abandoned.
His heart was filled with such hate; it was so withered that not a single blade of fresh grass could grow. It was an empty void, like a black hole hidden inside, constantly swallowing all warmth.
But why?
He had sat down so humiliatingly, so self-deprecatingly, making himself like a tool for venting without a shred of dignity. The pain was like lightning accompanied by spring thunder, splitting him in two. Yet, it also drew a splash of sweet nectar from the withered trunk, watering his insides, his void, his heart, and his soul.
In this moment, when he felt least like a human, he felt once again that he was alive.
The kite that had been torn apart by the gale in mid-air finally had someone holding its string again.
"Nngh..."
He wasn't satisfied.
"...I still have to go down to work," Zong Yan said into the ear near her face.
She was bitten again.
"You... shut up... mm."
"The waiter should be bringing the clothes soon." She tried to maintain her rationality. Today really wasn't a good time.
But things never choose a good time to happen.
"...Fuck, then figure it out yourself."
...
Zong Yan did figure it out.
When the service bell rang, she got out of bed to answer the door. Passing the mirror, she gave her messy hair a quick comb before opening the door. She accepted the warm, fragrant dry dress and offered her thanks.
Turning back, she saw Si Jiang lying prone on the bed, his back trembling slightly.
Zong Yan changed into her dress and set his clothes aside. She walked over and touched the back of his neck.
"It's time to go down."
If they stayed any longer, it would be very strange.
