Jiang Cheng's breathing turned noticeably heavier; the large hand that had been resting on the arm of the sofa slid down slowly and settled firmly at her waist.
The silk nightgown was as thin as a cicada's wing, and the scorching heat of his palm seeped straight through the fabric, branding the delicate skin at her waist.
"The salesgirl was right," Jiang Cheng murmured, lips almost brushing her ear, breath warm against her skin. "This color… really suits you."
His voice carried a husky rasp that made her shiver.
Though instinctively afraid of what was coming, Jiang Churan summoned every last ounce of courage, tilted her face up, and offered her red lips.
When Jiang Cheng didn't kiss her at once, her cool, aloof expression took on a hint of reproach.
"Then… don't just talk—d-don't just stand there…"
Looking down at her long, curling lashes fluttering like butterfly wings, Jiang Cheng found her utterly endearing.
No longer in the mood to tease, he tightened his fingers and pulled her flush against him.
One hand locked around her slender waist, the other threading through her half-dry, cool hair to cup the nape of her neck. Without giving her time to resist, he lowered his head and claimed her mouth.
The sudden closeness drew a soft gasp from Jiang Churan.
Her hands, pressed to his chest, clutched the fabric of his shirt.
She could feel every taut line of muscle in his legs.
And, more than his legs, the change in the truth of his body left her flustered.
This kiss wasn't the gentle exploration of before; it carried the fierce possessiveness of desire too long restrained.
When Jiang Cheng kissed her, Jiang Churan responded on instinct.
Soon he coaxed her lips apart, tasting, tangling, drinking in her sweetness, swallowing the fresh scent of her skin after her shower.
Her body went limp; it felt as though every ounce of strength had been drawn out by that kiss.
She melted against him, letting him take whatever he wanted.
In her daze she felt the nightgown's strap slip from her shoulder; cool air brushed her skin and she instinctively shrank back—only to be covered by even hotter flesh.
"…Let's… let's go to the bedroom…" she managed between frantic kisses, voice breaking in a plea.
Her face was flushed crimson, but Jiang Cheng acted as if he hadn't heard.
Instead, he slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her straight off the floor.
Eyes still closed, Jiang Churan gasped at the sudden loss of support.
Her legs wrapped instinctively around his lean waist.
Her arms tightened around his neck.
In a few strides Jiang Cheng carried her to the huge floor-to-ceiling window in the living-room.
Outside lay the night view of Zizhuyuan Park.
The lake was ink-black, mirroring the silhouette of a waterside pavilion.
Classical palace lanterns flickered among the bamboo, sketching the upturned eaves.
Farther off, the skyscrapers of Zhongguancun formed a glittering band along the horizon, a dazzling counterpoint to the garden's hush.
"Right here," Jiang Cheng pressed her against the cool glass, burning chest to her smooth back, and growled in her ear. "Let the night see… whose woman you are."
A fierce mix of shame and exhilaration swept through her.
Jiang Churan's skin flushed pink; her toes curled in mortification.
Watching her own reflection—eyes dazed, hair disheveled, utterly enveloped by the man's strength—her last trace of reason crumbled.
She closed her eyes, buried her burning cheek against his neck, and, with a sound close to a sob, silently gave herself to whatever would come next.
Outside, the night was deep; moonlight scattered like silver dust across Zizhuyuan's lake.
Inside, the temperature soared—while Jiang Cheng's side blazed, the hospital emergency room was anything but relaxed.
Fu Yang's arm had been bandaged and he was on an IV drip.
Bored, he leaned against the bed scrolling one-handed on his phone. "Damn, what lousy luck—ambushed by that foreign bastard…"
As the words left his mouth, Shen Shuang and Xu Yan appeared in the doorway.
Catching sight of them, Shen An waved. "You're here."
He turned to Fu Yang. "They asked after you just now, so I mentioned it—didn't expect them to actually come."
Shen Shuang and Xu Yan walked in carrying flowers.
"Brother Yang—hope we're not disturbing you…"
Fu Yang set his phone down at once and waved. "Not at all—thanks for coming."
He didn't know them, but they were women close to Jiang Cheng—his girlfriend's best friends, no less—so he was extremely polite.
A fellow decent man, he knew how special a best friend could be.
After a few pleasantries Jiang Xin suddenly blurted, "Holy—"
His face, glued to his phone, had gone livid, as if he'd read something terrible.
"What's up?" Fu Yang frowned.
"Come on, you scared me. I'm the only son—if you give me a heart attack you'll owe my family a bunch of kids."
With Shen Shuang and Xu Yan present, Jiang Xin reined in his clowning.
Feigning calm, he shot back, "Stop pretending—you banked your boys last month, afraid you can't father kids?"
Shen Shuang and Xu Yan blinked, startled, glancing with covert curiosity between Shen An and Jiang Xin.
Fu Yang gaped, then burst into gleeful laughter—only to jerk his wounded arm and hiss in pain while giving Shen An a thumbs-up. "Nice, An-zi, planning that far ahead."
The smile on Shen An's face froze; he was in no mood for jokes.
He turned a glare so icy it could kill straight at Jiang Xin, as if unable to believe he'd blurted that out.
Shen An repeated through clenched teeth,
"Jiang Xin, if you kept your mouth shut nobody'd think you were mute."
Jiang Xin realized instantly he'd stepped in it.
He clapped both hands over his mouth.
Voice dropping with guilt, he mumbled, "I—I mean… hey, Shen An, my bad—just treat it as if I farted, okay? That news freaked me out and my mouth ran off."