Ji Yanluo stood before the wide windows of his bedroom, watching the city lights blink in quiet indifference. The skyline never changed—steady, unfazed—unlike the fire smoldering in his chest. Not anger. Not pain.
Heat.
It came in waves. Subtle at first, then slow and unrelenting. A quiet simmer that turned his calm into smoke.
He frowned, reaching for the bottle of pills he'd taken earlier. The label read exactly as it should, but something itched at the back of his mind.
A knock cut through the stillness.
He didn't answer.
The door creaked open anyway.
"Yanluo?" Her voice was soft.
He closed his eyes.
Of course, it had to be her.
He didn't turn. He didn't have to. He could feel her — Bai Zhiqi — standing in the doorway of his room like some ethereal vision. No veil. No distance. Just her.
"I knocked," she said after a beat.
"I heard."
She stepped inside. Her steps were quiet, but the air shifted with every one. She was wearing an oversized white shirt, the hem brushing mid-thigh. Her bare feet padded silently against the floor. Damp strands of her hair clung to her cheek, and her skin glowed under the soft light — warm, natural, unguarded.
His jaw tightened.
He didn't dare look at her.
"You're flushed," she said. "Are you alright?"
"No." The word came low, rough. "Not really."
Concern flitted across her expression as she approached. "Did something happen?"
He turned, finally, and the look in his eyes stopped her in her tracks.
"Don't come closer."
She stilled, frowning. "Why not?"
"Because I don't trust myself around you right now."
Her gaze narrowed slightly, searching his. "What do you mean?"
"I took the wrong pills."
There was a pause.
"Wrong…?" she echoed.
"Aphrodisiac." He didn't sugarcoat it. "Han Su handed it to Xiao Lin this morning. It got placed next to mine. The bottles look identical."
Understanding dawned in her eyes. Slowly. Carefully. But she didn't run.
"Should I get Xiao Lin?" she asked, cautious.
"No. Just leave."
She didn't move.
He stepped toward her—one slow, deliberate step—and then stopped. Inches between them.
"Zhiqi," he said, her name sharper than he meant, "if you stay, I will kiss you. And I won't stop at that. And we both know it's not the time for that. Not like this."
Her throat bobbed with a quiet swallow.
Still, she didn't retreat.
He stared down at her, watching how her lashes lowered slightly, how her breath caught when he leaned just the slightest bit closer — not touching, but almost.
The heat between them wasn't just from the drug anymore.
She looked up at him. And for a second — a dangerously long second — he swore she wasn't going to leave.
"You're burning up," she murmured. "You're struggling."
"Yes."
"Because of me?"
A flicker of amusement touched her voice, though her eyes remained calm.
His response came like a growl. "Always because of you."
Then he stepped back — sharply, as if burned.
Her lips parted slightly at the space he put between them. But he didn't look back this time.
"I won't do this with you unless it's real," he said.
"And this doesn't feel real to you?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
"It does. Too real."
Her expression softened.
Then, as if something inside her finally yielded, she nodded once.
"I'll go," she said. "For now."
She turned, heading to the door.
Just before stepping out, she paused.
Without turning around, she said, "You were right. It's not the time. But when it is, you won't have to warn me off."
The door clicked softly behind her.
Ji Yanluo stood there for a long moment. Burning. Wanting. Waiting.
For the time when she wouldn't walk away.