In a daze, Cheng Yao got into the car with Qian Heng.

The moment they got in, Qian Heng asked, “Why would you let Tan Ying take you home?”

Even though Qian Heng was thoroughly vicious, the fact that he’d thought of the danger of two women walking alone at night, and had so gallantly offered to drive her home himself, moved Cheng Yao deeply.

“If she took you home and found out you live with me, have you thought about how that would look?” Qian Heng’s voice was cold. “Even though we’re just a simple roommate arrangement, rumors spread, and things get twisted.”

He’d even thought to protect her reputation as a single woman—Cheng Yao thought, so her boss, Qian Heng, was actually cold on the outside but warm on the inside! Whether it was the alcohol talking or genuine gratitude, in that moment, she felt a warmth in her chest…

But before she could get the words “thank you” out, the Cult Leader of the Five Poisons, Qian Heng, dumped a bucket of ice water straight over her head.

“I don’t care what happens to you, but you’re not going to ruin my reputation.”

“…”

Qian Heng, suffocating as ever, right on brand.

Cheng Yao thought bitterly, of course she shouldn’t have thought so highly of him.

“Once we’re home, drink some hangover tea.”

“Oh? Okay.” Or maybe he wasn’t so bad after all—thinking to look after her with hangover tea. Maybe Qian Heng could still be salvaged.

But no sooner had that thought crossed her mind than she heard him continue—

“Sober up a bit, and then you can go unclog the pipe.”

“…”

Cheng Yao was now certain: Qian Heng really was poisoned through to his organs, beyond any cure.

No room for salvage. Just declare him dead on the spot.

The restaurant was some distance from Cheng Yao’s rented apartment, and to make matters worse, they hit traffic at this hour of all times. Even with his Bentley, Qian Heng could only crawl along in the flow of cars.

If Cheng Yao had only felt slightly tipsy before, the alcohol was now steadily eating away at her reason. Drowsiness set in, and the constant starting and stopping of the car worsened her dizziness and nausea.

“Boss… I’m feeling a bit unwell…”

Qian Heng didn’t even bother sparing her a glance. “Don’t think that pretending to be drunk and claiming you feel sick will get you special treatment from me. But fine, rewards and punishments will be fairly meted out—once the pipe’s fixed, I’ll pay you back the two hundred and fifty you lost tonight.”

Cheng Yao’s whole face twisted up. “I’m genuinely feeling awful…”

“Five hundred. Not a cent more.”

“…”

Fortunately, they were nearly home. Just a bit longer—Cheng Yao, you can do this!

But things didn’t go as hoped. As the traffic worsened, Cheng Yao felt increasingly dizzy.

“Boss, I don’t think this is good…” It was well beyond “unwell” now—Cheng Yao felt her stomach churning violently.

Yet Qian Heng, stubbornly convinced she was faking, snorted coldly. “As someone in the legal profession, you should know that any claim requires solid, direct evidence. Since you say you’re unwell…”

“Ugh…”

“CHENG!! YAO!!” For the first time, Qian Heng lost his usual noble composure, his voice filling with unrestrained anger and shock.

Just a second earlier, before he’d even finished his sentence, Cheng Yao had thrown up in his car during a sudden hard brake.

By this point, Cheng Yao was somewhat out of it—miserable, aching, and desperately sleepy—but her basic professional instincts as a legal practitioner kicked in nonetheless.

“Evidence.”

Qian Heng let out a furious laugh. “What?”

Cheng Yao pointed at the thoroughly ruined Bentley. “This is the proof of what I said.” She struggled to clear her muddled head and added, “I told you, I didn’t feel good.”

“…”

Qian Heng, his face black the whole way, drove into the residential compound and opened the car door.

Cheng Yao slumped in her seat, looking at him.

His voice was audibly forced under control, though the edges had begun to fray with impatience. “Cheng Yao, don’t try to test my limits.”

Cheng Yao actually wanted to get up, but her whole body was a beat slow to respond. Though she sensed something was off about this, the sensation of letting the alcohol take over wasn’t unpleasant. “I can’t get up.”

The alcohol had left her floating, and the mental warning sign reading “Beware, Boss Is Poisonous” had been swept away by wave after wave of dizziness and headache. Cheng Yao’s behavior now was entirely subconscious reflex—no rational planning, no thought of social consequences, purely instinctive.

She blinked and fixed her eyes on Qian Heng. “I can’t walk.”

She was telling the truth, without any affectation—but such simple, plain statements, coming from her in this state, landed very differently on someone else.

Her eyes carried a faint sheen of moisture, her fair face flushed slightly from the alcohol, and she stared straight at Qian Heng without blinking—very still, very innocent, and utterly lost.

Though it was entirely unintentional, even subconscious, on Cheng Yao’s part, Qian Heng found it far too provocative.

Wu Jun hadn’t been wrong—as a lawyer, Cheng Yao was, frankly, a bit too good-looking. For the first time, he realized that beauty could also be a kind of weapon.

Under her unwavering gaze, Qian Heng took a step back.

It was an entirely involuntary reaction. Though he hadn’t quite worked out why in his own mind, his body seemed to have issued the order on its own.

This was dangerous.

The car could be cleaned by someone else, but he couldn’t just leave her in it.

Qian Heng frowned at Cheng Yao for a moment, then undid his buttons and took off his jacket.

Just then, Cheng Yao, who a moment ago had seemed dazed and out of it, suddenly seemed to snap awake and bolted out of the car door like a cornered rabbit.

“Help! Help! Molestation! There’s a pervert!”

Qian Heng had never been treated like this in his life. His face darkened, and, past caring about anything else, he grabbed the fleeing Cheng Yao by the arm, pulled her back, and threw his suit jacket over her head, wrapping her up in it.

Cheng Yao was still struggling. “Qian Heng, I never expected you to be such a wolf in sheep’s clothing—stripping off your clothes! Trying to get some in the car?? I’ll report you to the bar association, just watch!”

Qian Heng, forced to free up a hand, wrapped his arms tightly around her, pinning her still, and clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Hel—”

“Shut up!”

Qian Heng was, in fact, entirely innocent—he’d only taken off his jacket because of his cleanliness compulsion. He wasn’t sure whether she’d thrown up on herself in the process, and, unwilling to hold her directly himself, had decided to wrap her in his jacket instead and drag her home that way.

And this was what it had turned into in the eyes of a drunk Cheng Yao??

Fortunately, once her head was covered by the jacket, Cheng Yao finally quieted down for a while. Qian Heng took the opportunity to hurry her inside.

Back in familiar surroundings, Cheng Yao finally seemed to relax—though she still eyed Qian Heng with considerable wariness. Still wrapped in his suit jacket, she curled up on the sofa, staring at him like he was a criminal suspect.

Qian Heng, too tired to bother with her, opened a bottle of Evian, and his mood settled somewhat.

But as if Qian Heng weren’t already annoyed enough, Cheng Yao stared at him for a while and then said something shocking.

“Did you pull me onto your team because you wanted to take advantage of me?”

Qian Heng finally lost it, his icy composure shattering. He raised his voice. “Am I blind?!”

The alcohol had completely stripped Cheng Yao of any reason; she’d let herself go entirely, with no idea what she was even saying. She bit her finger and giggled. “Am I really that unappealing? I don’t think so—plenty of people chased after me in college…”

Qian Heng said coldly, “That’s because they’d never seen the world. Blind, the lot of them.”

“…”

Fuming, Qian Heng loomed over her. “After what you did today, it looks like I’m the one who has to unclog that pipe now. But Cheng Yao, behavior like this comes with a price…”

Before he could finish, Cheng Yao’s eyes had already narrowed and she’d begun to doze off.

“Cheng Yao??”

Who on earth would dare fall asleep while Qian-par was lecturing them?

No one!

Frustrated, Qian Heng leaned down close to her face. “Cheng Yao!”

Half-asleep, Cheng Yao blearily opened her eyes, and what filled her vision was Qian Heng’s absurdly handsome face, magnified up close, his brows slightly furrowed, his eyes fixed on her, his perfectly straight nose right there in front of her.

At that moment, only one thought filled Cheng Yao’s mind—

She really wanted to know whether Qian Heng’s nose was fake.

Just as Qian Heng was about to try again to wake her up and send her to her room, Cheng Yao suddenly reached out a hand, and, with Qian Heng caught completely off guard, pinched the bridge of his nose. Then, as if once weren’t enough, she pinched it again, harder, and then a few more times from various angles, not too gently.

Half-conscious, Cheng Yao murmured, “Huh, doesn’t collapse no matter how you squeeze it.”

Qian Heng’s whole body went rigid. No one had ever dared to lay a hand on him like this, pinching his nose over and over—this was practically an act of sacrilege!

“Guess it’s not fake after all.”

“…”

Only now did Qian Heng understand why she’d pinched his nose in the first place.

“Cheng Yao, get up right now!”

But the only response was Cheng Yao’s soft, even snoring. Having confirmed the authenticity of Qian Heng’s nose, she’d succumbed to sleep and alcohol, drifting off with a clear conscience.

The next day, Cheng Yao woke up quite early. She’d slept very well, though she’d had a few bizarre dreams—throwing up all over Qian Heng’s Bentley, pinching his nose…

She almost laughed to herself. Maybe it was because she’d been worked to the bone by Qian Heng all day at work, and her subconscious had taken its revenge on him in her dreams.

As usual, by the time she got up and washed up, Qian Heng had already left. As a partner, he was, without exception, extremely dedicated to his work, almost always the first one at the firm—Cheng Yao never ran into him at home in the mornings.

The moment she got to work, Tan Ying came over, looking gossip-hungry. “So, after Qian-par took you home last night, did anything happen that we don’t know about?”

“No,” Cheng Yao said, waving her hands repeatedly. “Really, nothing.”

Tan Ying had just been asking casually, but she murmured, “You know, Qian-par was late to work this morning. I heard from some of the older colleagues that it’s the first time he’s ever been late in all his years at Junheng.” Tan Ying gestured as she spoke. “And he looked like he was in a terrible mood—when he walked into the main office this morning, his face was so long, like the whole world owed him twenty-five thousand and eight hundred yuan.”

Li Menglei, sorting through some files nearby, chimed in. “I heard something happened with Qian-par’s Bentley—he took the subway to work this morning. I actually ran into him in the subway car. You know how packed the morning subway gets—he was pressed right up against some plump auntie. I actually felt bad for him. His face was completely black.”

Curious, Tan Ying asked, “What happened to his Bentley?”

“I just overheard him talking to Wu-par—apparently it got dirty and he sent it to get cleaned.”

“…”

Somehow, Cheng Yao had a bad feeling. Her heart sank—she felt like something was about to go badly wrong…

“And he’s been really strange today. When I came in, I heard him ask Wu-par, ‘Does my nose look fake?’ Wu-par didn’t answer the first time, so Qian-par asked again, quite insistently.”

Only two words filled Cheng Yao’s mind now—

It’s over.

So last night hadn’t been a dream after all—she really had done it! Not only had she thrown up in her boss’s Bentley, she’d actually reached out and pinched his nose!!!

Li Menglei kept going. “Anyway, he’s been in a bad mood all day. I saw him earlier chewing out a client on the phone—no idea who’s going to be unlucky enough to catch it next…”

Before Li Menglei could finish, Cheng Yao’s internal line rang.

“Cheng Yao, come to my office.”

Her heart turned to ash. What was coming was coming, no avoiding it now.

Trembling, she walked into Qian Heng’s office, silently reciting Gorky’s “The Petrel” in her mind—let the storm, whatever it may be, come more fiercely! I am a petrel, and I shall soar like black lightning, proud and unbowed!