Fang Hua
The guest room was too quiet.
I had been lying in bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, phone in hand. Madam Zhang's voice still lingered from our earlier call, low, careful, full of that familiar mix of apology and command.
"I'm sorry about the hotel that night," she had whispered. "It wasn't supposed to go like that. But this time, we won't make the same mistake."
Make him remember," the older woman had whispered. "Remind him what he's missing."
I had laughed softly. "Don't worry, Auntie. I'm the best at this game."
She had paused. "Just… be careful. He's different now."
Different.
I smiled in the dark.
Different was exactly what I intended to fix.
I glanced at the clock. Past midnight.
I knew his habits. I knew the office light would still be on.
I stood.
Slipped out of the silk nightgown.
Put on the robe instead,black silk, so thin it clung to my skin like a second layer of heat. I tied it loosely, just enough to hold, but not enough to hide. Beneath it, there was nothing else. No panties. Just enough revealing skin .
I checked my reflection once. Satisfied.
When I stepped into the corridor, my bare feet made no sound on the cool marble. The air was cold, but it only sharpened everything, the scent of my perfume, the slide of silk against my thighs, the way my pulse beat slow and steady in my throat.
I walked slowly, deliberately, passing his office as if by accident.
The door was slightly ajar.
Light spilled out, warm against the darkness. I slowed just enough, then "accidentally" shifted the robe as I turned, fabric sliding, revealing the smooth line of my thigh, the soft curve of my waist, the swell of my breast.
If he looked, he would see.
I stopped.
Knocked lightly.
"Wei?" My voice was soft, husky with sleep I didn't feel. "I can't sleep."
A pause.
Then his voice, low and restrained. "Come in."
I pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind me with deliberate care.
The room smelled like him, cedar, coffee.
Zhang Wei was standing by his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, the faint shadows beneath his eyes more pronounced under the office light. He looked tired. Worn out.
Dangerous in that quiet, controlled way that had always undone me.
I smiled softly. "Am I disturbing you?"
"You should be asleep," he said.
"So should you." My gaze flicked pointedly to the documents scattered across his desk.
"You never could sleep when your mind was busy."
I walked closer, slow, unhurried, until I was standing just a step away. The scent of my perfume, warm, intimate, began to fill the room.
Without asking, I perched on the edge of his desk.
The robe parted slightly as I crossed my legs, silk sliding higher, exposing smooth skin. I felt his attention even when he refused to look directly.
"You used to let me stay with you on nights like this," I said softly. "We'd talk until morning."
"That was before," he replied.
I tilted my head, studying him. His jaw was tight. His hands clenched loosely at his sides.
"Before what?" I asked gently. "Before you married some girl to save face?"
The air changed instantly.
Wei's eyes snapped to mine, dark, sharp, dangerous.
"Watch your mouth."
I smiled, unafraid. "I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking."
I reached out, fingers brushing his sleeve. Just barely. Enough to feel the heat beneath the fabric.
"We were good together, Wei," I murmured, leaning in slightly. "You know that."
For a split second, I felt it, the hesitation. The tension in his body. The memory flickering behind his eyes.
It thrilled me.
Then he caught my wrist.
Not gentle.
Not rough.
Just firm enough to stop me.
"Leave."
The word was quiet.
But it cut.
I searched his face.
He wasn't looking at my body.
He was looking at me like I was a problem to solve.
I stood slowly.
Let the robe fall open just a little more.
One last try.
"You sure?" I whispered, stepping closer, letting the silk brush against him. "You used to want me. Badly."
His jaw clenched.
His grip on my wrist tightened, just enough.
"Fang Hua," he said, voice rougher now. "You're crossing a line."
I leaned in, lips almost touching his ear.
"Then stop me."
For a heartbeat, the room was silent.
Then he released my wrist.
Stepped back.
Put distance between us like I was fire.
"You're a guest in this house," he said.
"Remember your place."
My smile didn't fade.
I straightened the robe slowly, deliberately, as if the rejection had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
"Good night, Wei," I said calmly.
I walked to the door, hips swaying just enough.
Just before stepping out, I paused and glanced back over my shoulder.
"This isn't over," I said quietly. "Not even close."
Then I left.
The door closed behind me with a soft click.
In the hallway, my smile returned, slow, triumphant.
Enjoy your restraint while it lasts, I thought. Because I didn't come here to lose.
And somewhere behind me, in the quiet of his office, Zhang Wei stood perfectly still, jaw tight, fists clenched, staring at the door long after I was gone.
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