She sat on the edge of the bed, spine straight, hands folded tightly in her lap. The nightgown Qiao Qiao had left out clung to her skin in a way she wasn't used to. Light.too revealing.
Her first night as his wife. Even if it was only on paper.
Beyond the windows, Beijing glowed. Gold and white lights pulsing through the dark. The city never slept.
She pressed her fingers to her wrist without thinking. The place where Wei had held her earlier.
Her heart skipped.
"Wei".
The name slid through her thoughts like something forbidden. When he'd said her name earlier, like it belonged in his mouth, something inside her had shifted.
She stood up, unable to stay still, and paced the room barefoot.
She caught her reflection in the mirror. Flushed cheeks. Wide eyes. A woman she barely recognized.
"This isn't real," she whispered.
But her racing pulse said otherwise.
She needed water. Something to clear her head.
Without thinking too much, she slipped out into the hallway.
Down the corridor in his own suite, Zhang Wei stood by the window, control slipping through his fingers like sand.
Jacket gone. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar. The whiskey in his hand was almost empty. He'd drunk himself nearly stupid, but he was still sober enough to know better.
His gaze drifted toward the corridor that led to the East Wing. To her.
She was under his roof. In his space.
A contract, he reminded himself. She is temporary.
Then he heard it. Soft footsteps. Bare. Careful.
He turned and stopped.
She stood halfway down the staircase, The nightgown clung to her like it had been poured onto her skin. Thin straps. Bare shoulders. Fabric so light it moved with every breath.
She looked nothing like the trembling girl from the courtyard. Nothing like the woman who'd stood stiffly beside him earlier.
She looked dangerous.
His gaze dragged down her before he could stop it. Too exposed. Too much for a man who'd trained himself not to look twice.
Then she stepped forward and walked right into him.
Instinct took over. His hands caught her waist.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the feel of her under his palms. Her scent, clean and faintly floral, hit him without warning.
Memories of that night flashed through his mind. How good she'd made him feel. How long it had been since he'd let himself lose control like that. after months of not getting laid.
A sharp pull low in his stomach.
He tightened his grip for half a second too long, aware of how her palms flattened against his chest, aware of her breath catching.
He forced himself to look away, jaw tight, and released her slowly. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.
She wasn't temptation. She was responsibility.
Control returned in layers. He spoke before the silence could betray him.
"Couldn't sleep?"
She shook her head, noticing he reeked of alcohol but didn't dare ask. His voice grounded her.
"Too much everything," she said quietly.
He didn't move away immediately. The warmth of his hands lingered like a burn on her skin. Then he stepped back.
"Come," he said. "You need something warm."
The kitchen was dim when they entered, lit only by under-cabinet lights and the glow of the city beyond. It felt more human than the rest of the mansion. More real.
Wei rolled up his sleeves and moved with precision. Zhao Mei watched him pour milk into a pot, add spices carefully, like this small act mattered.
"You do this often?" she asked.
"Not often," he replied. "But when I do, I do it right."
Of course, she thought.
She leaned against the island as he prepared tea. When he turned, his gaze sharpened.
"Do you have a phone?"
The question startled her. "A phone?"
"I won't always be here," he said. "We need a way to communicate."
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her gown. "I lost it. During the scandal. I don't know where it went."
The words felt small. Embarrassing.
"It's fine," she rushed to add. "I'll figure it out. You don't have to…"
"Mei."
His voice cut through hers.
She looked up.
"Whatever you need," he said quietly, holding her gaze, "you don't hesitate to ask."
Her throat tightened.
"This isn't excess," he added. "It's basics."
Something settled in her chest. "Okay."
He handed her the mug. Their fingers brushed. Electricity shot through her and she nearly spilled it.
"Careful."
The tea sloshed, warm against her skin.
"I've got it," she said quickly.
He took a cloth and dabbed at her fingers gently. His touch lingered, His breath was close.
Their eyes met.
For one reckless second, she thought he might kiss her.
Then he pulled back abruptly, jaw clenched.
He stepped away because if he didn't, he'd lose control completely. Her skin had been warm beneath his fingers, her breath unsteady. He'd seen the question in her eyes, the same one clawing at him.
What is this?
Minutes later, he walked her back upstairs, his hand resting lightly at the small of her back. Every step felt synchronized.
At her door, she turned to face him.
"Wei, thank you. For today. For everything."
He stepped closer, one arm braced above her head.
"Don't thank me yet," he murmured. "This is just the beginning."
Her hand lifted without permission, fingers brushing the faint red mark on his cheek from his mother's slap.
"Does it hurt?"
His eyes darkened. "Not as much as wanting to…"
He stopped himself.
Their foreheads touched. His breath brushed her lips.
She whispered his name like a plea. "Wei."
"Go inside, Mei," he said roughly. "Before I forget this is temporary."
He stepped back and pulled away, leaving her standing in the doorway with her heart racing.
On his side of the door, Zhang Wei stood perfectly still.
Her presence pressed through the wood like heat.
Damn the contract. I need her.
His hand hovered over the handle. One turn. Everything would change.
He let out a rough breath.
This is stupid.
He'd already left once. Told himself that almost-kiss in the kitchen was a mistake. Just tired and a little drunk.
But his body wasn't listening.
All he could see was her in that thin silk nightgown. The way her breath shook when he got close. How soft her lips looked.
His jaw tightened.
Am I really losing it over her?
A cold shower would fix this.
Instead, he turned around. His hand found the knob.
Fuck it.
Inside the room, Zhao Mei was sitting on the edge of the bed when the door opened.
She didn't think he'd come back.
But there he was, standing in the doorway like he owned the air around him.
She stood up fast, heart pounding. "You haven't gone to sleep yet?"
He stepped inside and closed the door.
He didn't say anything at first. Just looked at her, slow and heavy, like he was seeing right through the nightgown.
Her skin burned under his stare. Her nipples hardened under his gaze, her chest rising too fast.
"I tried," he said, voice low and rough. "Couldn't."
Her heart skipped hard. "Why not?"
He walked closer. Close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him.
"Because I can't stop thinking about you, Mei," he said. "Don't know if it's the drink or if I'm just fucked up over you."
He stopped right in front of her. Towering. Intense.
"I'm losing control."
She should have stepped back. She didn't.
She didn't move, and that was all it took.
Everything inside him snapped.
He grabbed her waist and pulled her hard against him. Her soft body hit his chest and heat exploded through him, straight to his dick.
She felt so good. So warm. Fitting against him like she was made for it.
His mouth took hers.
Slow at first. Just tasting. Giving himself one last second to pull away.
She made a small sound, a soft gasp, and her hands grabbed his shirt.
That broke him.
The kiss turned hungry. His tongue slid against hers, taking, claiming. She kissed him back just as hard, her body pressing closer, hips brushing against him.
His hand moved down, gripping her through the nightgown, pulling her tighter. She moaned into his mouth, quiet and needy, and it shot straight through him.
He didn't care about anything else. Not the contract. Not tomorrow. Not how bad this could end.
He just wanted her.
His fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head so he could kiss her deeper. He nipped her bottom lip and felt her tremble. Her body was on fire against his, soft breasts pressed to his chest.
Then his phone buzzed.
Once. Twice.
He ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Cold reality hit him.
He pulled back fast, breathing hard, forehead resting against hers. Both of them shaking.
If he didn't stop now, he'd have her on that bed in seconds. Nightgown gone. Legs around him and his dick deep inside of her.
He looked at the screen.
Qin didn't didn't call this late unless it mattered.
He answered. "What."
"Sir." Qin's voice was steady from the security office across the estate. "We confirmed the payment trail. The bellboy was paid through a layered account. The origin points to Chen Rong."
Zhang Wei said nothing.
"There's more. The drink you had that night wasn't tampered with by hotel staff. It came from inside your circle. Someone with access."
His jaw tightened.
"The bellboy has gone missing," Qin added. "No calls. No check-ins. Chen Rong's phone went offline an hour ago."
Qin lowered his voice. "He's running."
Zhang Wei lowered the phone slowly.
The heat between him and Zhao Mei hadn't disappeared. It hovered, almost painful. She stood there, lips flushed, breath uneven, eyes searching his face.
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
For a split second, he almost told her everything.
Instead, his expression hardened.
"I have to take care of something," he said, the calm returning like armor. "I shouldn't have come back."
Her shoulders stiffened. "Really."
He stepped back, creating space where there had been fire seconds ago.
"Goodnight, Mei."
He turned before she could say anything else and walked out.
The door closed behind him.
Zhao Mei stared at it long after he was gone.
The warmth drained from her face, replaced by slow, creeping embarrassment that settled deep in her chest.
What was she thinking?
She pressed her fingers to her lips. They still tingled from his kiss. Real. Undeniable. And yet suddenly it felt like something she'd imagined alone.
He regrets it, she thought.
The realization hurt more than she expected.
She sat back down on the bed, heart aching in a way she didn't understand. She replayed everything. The way he looked at her. The way he kissed her. The way he pulled away so cleanly.
Maybe this is all this will ever be. A contract. A mistake.
She lay back, staring at the ceiling, feeling both too warm and strangely hollow.
In the corridor outside, Zhang Wei walked without slowing.
Desire was a weakness he couldn't afford.
Chen Rong disappearing changed everything. The setup was no longer hypothetical. It was active. Dangerous.
He stopped near the study, already shifting into strategy.
"Find him."
But even as he focused, one thought burned beneath everything else.
If this goes any further, she'll be pulled deeper into it.
And that, more than anything, unsettled him.
********