They maintained the same position for a long time, completely losing track of time until Zhou Mi finally couldn’t help but raise her face.

Zhang Lian’s lips left her wet black hair, but his eyes remained just inches away.

Just as she was about to lower her hands from behind his shoulders, he suddenly said, “Don’t let go.”

Zhou Mi stopped moving and just stared at his whiskey-colored eyes, asking softly, “Aren’t your arms sore?”

Zhang Lian said, “No.”

Zhou Mi said, “My back is getting sore from being squeezed.”

“Where does it hurt?” he withdrew one hand and, as if sliding over piano keys, moved down along her spine, stopping to massage the middle of her lower back. “Here?”

The electric tingle at the base of her spine instantly straightened Zhou Mi’s upper body.

“Can you stop touching all over?” she arched forward from the tickling sensation, brushing against his chest.

Zhang Lian’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he asked in an almost breathless voice, “Are you not wearing anything underneath?”

Just as Zhou Mi was about to answer, she realized he was already confirming for himself, from the side, naturally, through the thin, cool fabric of her nightgown.

Zhou Mi let out a surprised sound, her voice thin and soft, like a small tuft of sweet cream accidentally squeezed from a narrow piping tip.

Her face turned intensely red: “Who still wears that when they’re about to go to sleep?”

“It’s late, go rest,” Zhang Lian let go of her, his voice containing extremely sexy restraint.

Again, they silently gazed at each other for a few seconds.

Zhou Mi broke into a smile that they both understood, asking mischievously, “Are you okay?”

Zhang Lian’s eyes took on a warning look: “Zhou Mi, it’s best to say less when wearing a dress.”

She irritably clenched her fist and punched his left chest.

Zhang Lian curled his lips: “One kiss, then go to sleep.”

She puckered her lips like a little goldfish. Zhang Lian leaned his face close and kissed her lightly. His reddish lips were slightly dry, like sun-wrinkled flower petals.

Such beautiful lips were truly hard to part with. Zhou Mi puckered up again, seeking another kiss.

Zhang Lian laughed, a sound from deep in his throat. He lowered his eyes and gazed at her for quite a while, not scrutinizing from above, but with a not-so-obvious intimacy.

Zhou Mi felt restless in body and mind under this gaze. She leaned forward on her own, licked his mouth, and deliberately made a smacking sound.

She heard his breathing pause for a moment.

Zhang Lian could no longer restrain himself and firmly gripped her ribcage. This time he wasn’t as patient; the force of his kiss was so great that his shoulder blades slightly moved—it was an explosive engulfment, as if he wanted to swallow her whole.

Zhou Mi couldn’t breathe.

The two were entangled again, like black coffee blending with condensed milk. Zhou Mi felt dizzy, as if spinning rapidly in the swirling currents of their breaths.

…

Only a floor lamp remained lit in the living room, as ambiguous as the boundary between dusk and night.

When Zhou Mi was placed exhaustedly against the cushion, Zhang Lian picked up the remote control from the edge of the coffee table and turned on the television again.

The noise from the football field finally covered her previous sounds.

Zhou Mi’s face flushed crimson as she belatedly fell silent. But when the man’s left knee sank back into the sofa material, her nasal sounds became rapid and labored again.

She curled her legs, her toes like huddling white birds, pressing hard against the edge of the sofa.

“We can turn up the volume,” he said ambiguously, with one elbow propped beside her face as he leaned toward her ear.

Zhou Mi increasingly understood what he meant by “it’s best to say less when wearing a dress.”

Initially, her vision was partially obscured; the light from the television could spill over his shoulders, like being on the far side of the moon. But gradually, Zhou Mi could see the entire screen, though her attention could only focus elsewhere.

Each time, she felt that Zhang Lian’s hair was softer than she had imagined.

Zhou Mi let out a whimper, bit her lower lip, and began to perspire densely on her back, one wave after another.

The broadcast cut to the audience; the fans began to sing in unison, and the screen was filled with people.

Zhou Mi leaned back there, facing the television, completely unable to accept her current position, nearly folded in half. She gripped the gray plush fabric of the sofa tightly, her pinned legs trembling uncontrollably.

She was like a shellfish offering on his dinner plate, her pleas for mercy useless; also like a water balloon inflated to its limit, about to burst at any moment.

When the referee’s whistle blew, Zhang Lian paused somewhat unexpectedly and straightened up.

Zhou Mi abruptly sat up, her head nearly steaming, her entire being like ants on a hot pot: “What do we do—”

Zhang Lian looked down at her with a mischievous smile. He used his thumb to wipe his lips, which remained as water-red as if freshly coated with lip balm: “I don’t know either.”

His bangs were a bit messy, and his eyes rarely sparkled so openly, looking like a gloating big boy.

“It’s all your fault! You’re so annoying! Clean this up yourself!” Zhou Mi blurted out three frustrated phrases in a row, angrily punching his abdomen once. After adjusting her terrible state of clothing and hair, she slid off the sofa and fled barefoot back to her room like she was flying.

—

Zhou Mi buried her face in the pillow, her head like a scorching iron ball. After a while, her phone by the pillow buzzed. She picked it up and saw a message from Zhang Lian.

A picture and a text message.

The picture was of her slippers left in the living room, held in his hand for the photo.

The message was slightly teasing: Cinderella, you left your shoes behind.

Zhou Mi, dying of embarrassment, covered her face for a moment before lifting her phone and replying with a bright red face: Oh, I’ll come get them later.

He replied: Okay.

Zhou Mi rubbed her burning cheeks with one hand and asked: What about the sofa?

Zhang Lian was exceptionally calm: Leave it there.

Zhou Mi: ………………………

Her text could almost be heard shouting: Take off the sofa cover and wash it!

Zhang Lian: Trying to hide it would only make it more obvious.

Zhou Mi: What if Auntie Chen sees it tomorrow?

Zhang Lian: I’ll have her clean it tomorrow.

Zhou Mi: ?????????

Zhang Lian: What’s wrong?

Zhou Mi: That’s so embarrassing!

Zhang Lian: What’s embarrassing? It’s my house, my fiancée and I.

Even knowing it was a false title, Zhou Mi’s apple cheeks involuntarily curved her eyes: Don’t you have any sense of shame?

Zhang Lian replied: I only have a sense of accomplishment.

Zhou Mi immediately threw her phone away.

When she tiptoed out to get her slippers, everything outside had darkened, with only an orange wall lamp lit in the hallway. Zhou Mi found her slippers right at her door, toes pointing outward, placed very neatly.

Imagining such a tall and handsome man bending down to solemnly arrange her shoes, she couldn’t help but smile. Then she coughed once, slid her white feet into them, left then right them, hopped back twice, and retreated to her room.

Zhou Mi returned to bed, covered her legs with a thin blanket, and texted Zhang Lian: Thanks, I got my slippers.

She suddenly realized it was almost two o’clock.

Zhang Lian said: Go to sleep early, you have work tomorrow.

Perhaps because too many things had happened tonight, Zhou Mi’s mind was unusually active, like diving into a rabbit hole where all the rabbits were jumping wildly. She didn’t want to say goodbye so early and continued to dawdle, looking for things to say.

Zhou Mi: Do you think tonight was a beautiful evening?

Zhang Lian: What do you think?

Zhou Mi thought for a moment and diplomatically said: It was okay.

But Zhang Lian directly said: I think it was very beautiful.

Zhou Mi made a sound from her nose: Including the last part?

She quickly added, avoiding mentioning her embarrassing loss of control: I mean, when I ran away, and you didn’t get anything.

Zhang Lian replied: That was the most beautiful part of tonight.

Zhou Mi was skeptical: Really? I don’t believe you. You must be grinding your teeth with anger inside and feeling like it was all wasted effort.

Zhang Lian replied: Really.

Text is indeed cunning, separated from expression and tone. The person on this end can only interpret based on emotion and cognition, then subjectively or objectively judge authenticity, never able to verify and confirm with 100% certainty, even if those two words are “Really.”

But even though it was difficult to discern, she still felt her heart flutter. If she were in a manga right now, her head would be floating with little pink flowers.

Zhou Mi pressed her lips together: Since we both found tonight beautiful, can it cancel out the not-so-beautiful night from before?

Zhang Lian said: Of course it can.

Zhou Mi happily hummed and laughed twice more: Alright, I can sleep peacefully now.

Zhang Lian said: Good night, Zhou Mi.

He added: Good night, Minnie.

Ah—

Zhou Mi wanted to jump out of bed immediately and do a hundred high leg lifts and fifty chest expansions.

He was breaking the rules—how could he use her work name to say good night a second time? So deliberate.

Zhou Mi applied what she had learned and even surpassed the teacher, deliberately not using his real name: Good night, Fabian.

Sure enough, a minute later.

Zhang Lian: Missing something?

Zhou Mi pretended to be coy: I’m just a little AE, I don’t dare call the big boss by his real name.

Zhang Lian: The premise of interpersonal interaction is equality.

Zhou Mi fell back on her pillow, as if sinking into a miniature garden, rubbing her head full of sweetness: Oh.

She slowly typed, letter by letter: Good night, Zhang Lian.

He seemed finally satisfied: Mm, good night.

Zhou Mi also sent back a cute pink bear sleeping expression pack.

Fortunately, Zhang Lian decisively didn’t reply again. Otherwise, they might have continued this endless cycle all night.

—

That night, Zhou Mi tossed and turned, sometimes smiling with joy, grimacing. She didn’t fall asleep until nearly four o’clock, and even dreamed that she had become Cinderella. When morning light filled the bedroom, she opened the door wearing an apron, and on the steps was a pair of sparkling crystal shoes, placed in the same position as her slippers the night before.

When the 8:30 phone alarm woke Zhou Mi, she felt her facial muscles faintly aching as if they had been twitching all night.

Was it from smiling too much last night or in her dream?

Zhou Mi walked out of her room, puzzled while carefully rubbing her cheekbones. When passing by Zhang Lian’s room, the door was half-open. She paused and curiously tilted her body to peek inside.

Zhang Lian’s bedroom also matched his personality—largely simple wood tones, with rock-gray and black bedding, with only white lighting fixtures as brightening elements.

There was no one by the bed; Zhou Mi guessed he might be in the closet.

Before going to the bathroom, Zhou Mi thought again and raised her phone to text him: Are you up?

After a while, he replied: Yes.

A new day’s smile mode was immediately activated, and Zhou Mi tried hard to suppress the curve of her lips: Want to brush teeth together?

Zhang Lian replied: You got up late, I’ve already brushed mine.

Zhou Mi’s face instantly fell: Oh.

She retorted without pausing for breath: Well, you want to go for a morning run, and I don’t want to go for a morning run. I barely slept all night, and I still managed to get up at 8:30. That’s very dedicated and hardworking, okay.

Zhang Lian didn’t reply again.

Zhou Mi put her phone in her pocket and walked to the bathroom. As soon as she stepped in, she froze. Zhang Lian was inside, standing in front of the mirror, shaving. It was hard to tell if he was waiting for the rabbit or if he was the willing fish taking the bait. He seemed rather traditional in this regard, preferring to use a manual razor. As the blade pushed across, his jawline followed the movement, like a precipitous mountain range after an avalanche.

It was very pleasing to watch, and after looking for a while, her mouth felt a bit dry.

She met his eyes and enunciated, “Good. Morning.”

Zhang Lian shook the razor blade and glanced at her: “Morning.”

Zhou Mi walked to the sink and began squeezing toothpaste, greeting him: “Did you sleep well last night?”

Zhang Lian said, “It was alright.”

Zhou Mi put her electric toothbrush back between her teeth and mumbled: “I didn’t sleep well at all.”

Zhang Lian turned on the faucet: “Later, when we go to the company, I’ll choose a traffic-jammed route to make it up to you.”

Zhou Mi laughed so hard she spat out foam: “That won’t be necessary.”

Zhang Lian looked at her through the mirror: “Tell me why.”

Zhou Mi also looked at him through the mirror: “It’s still those reasons. Just keep dropping me at the subway station.”

Zhang Lian said, “Fine.”

After watching him wash his face from an angle, Zhou Mi suddenly spoke, calling him by name somewhat uncertainly: “Zhang Lian?”

He hung the gray towel back: “What is it, Zhou Mi?”

Zhou Mi muttered: “Just… calling your name.”

He laughed lightly but didn’t speak.

Zhou Mi put on her sunflower hair tie and began to lather facial cleanser, while he remained in place, watching her at his leisure.

Zhou Mi, with her face covered in creamy foam, making her large eyes appear even darker and brighter: “Go eat breakfast.”

“What’s the rush?”

“Then what are you looking at?”

He smiled faintly: “Missed brushing teeth together, how about having breakfast together?”