He lowered his head, his forehead almost touching hers, his scorching breath spraying onto her cheeks, carrying a strong scent of alcohol. His eyes were half-open and half-closed, his eyelashes casting a shadow beneath them, the fire in the depths of his pupils burning even more fiercely.
He stared at her for a few seconds, as if trying to recognize something, yet also as if seeing nothing at all.
Then he lowered his head and kissed her again.
This time it was more forceful, more urgent, even carrying a hint of roughness. His tongue pushed past her lips and teeth, driving deep inside. Gu Ziyao was kissed breathless, her nostrils filled entirely with his scent—cedar, alcohol, and some indescribable masculine pheromone.
She raised her hands to push against his shoulders, her nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders, but he remained unmoved.
“Rip—”
The sound of fabric tearing was particularly piercing in the quiet room.
Gu Ziyao was wearing a black strapless dress tonight, with a matching small blazer draped over it. Earlier, when she was dragged into the corridor, the jacket had already fallen off.
At this moment, Shen Junyan’s palm pressed against her back. Whether it was due to excessive force or intentional tearing, the zipper at the back of her dress was forcibly ripped open.
Cold air rushed in through the tear, causing Gu Ziyao to shiver.
Her fingers clenched the bedsheet beneath her, her knuckles turning white.
Shen Junyan’s movements grew increasingly intense. His palm slid down the curve of her back, his palm scorching hot, yet the force was so heavy it felt as if he wanted to crush her into his very bones and blood.
His breathing grew heavier and heavier, the rise and fall of his chest more and more violent. It was as if he were being roasted over a fire, burning to the point of losing all reason.
Gu Ziyao should have continued to resist.
She should have screamed, should have called for help, should have used her knee to push him away, should have grabbed the lamp on the bedside table and smashed it against his head.
But she didn’t.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t resist.
Although Shen Junyan was strong, and although he was under the influence of drugs, his current state was unstable. If she truly fought with all her might to struggle, she might not be unable to break free.
The door was not far behind her, and there could be waitstaff passing through the corridor at any moment. If she just called out, someone would surely come.
But she didn’t.
Her body felt as if it were pinned down by something, her hands and feet unable to exert any strength.
Or rather, a voice inside her was telling her—don’t move.
That voice was very faint, almost inaudible, but it was indeed there.
Three years ago, on the day they received their marriage certificate, after Shen Junyan said those words, “Let’s not disturb each other,” he turned and walked away. Gu Ziyao stood at the entrance of the civil affairs bureau, watching his car disappear at the end of the road, clutching that deep red marriage certificate in her hand, its cover creased from her grip.
A marriage of transaction, each taking what they needed.
She had no right to feel wronged, no right to miss him, and certainly no right to love him.
But at this moment, as his scorching body pressed down on her, as his scent enveloped her completely, as she felt his heartbeat transmitted through his chest—
Gu Ziyao realized that the defenses she had built over the past three years were collapsing at a visible speed.
Her strength grew weaker and weaker.
Her resisting hands slid from his shoulders to her chest, then from her chest to the bedsheet, her fingers slowly loosening. The tightly clenched bedsheet was left with several deep wrinkles.
Sensing that she was no longer resisting, Shen Junyan’s movements instead slowed down a bit.
His lips moved from hers, trailing down along her jawline to her neck and collarbone. His kisses remained scorching, but their force had gentled considerably, as if he were kissing something fragile.
Gu Ziyao closed her eyes.
A tear slid from the corner of her eye, tracing past her temple into her hairline.
She didn’t know why she was crying.
Was it from grievance, from unwillingness to accept this, or because even within this body nearly stripped of reason, she could still recognize that faint trace of tenderness belonging to Shen Junyan.
She couldn’t say for sure.
Moonlight from outside filtered through the sheer curtains, spreading a layer of silvery-white light across the carpet.
In the distance, from the Huangpu River, came the low, drawn-out blast of a ship’s horn, like a sigh from the city in the deep of night.
The temperature in the room was rising.
Gu Ziyao felt Shen Junyan’s hand clasp hers, their fingers intertwining, palms pressed together. His palm was still so hot, his knuckles long and strong. The shallow scar at the base of his thumb rested against her skin, tingling slightly.
She turned her head, opening her eyes to look out the window.
The man behind her was breathing heavier and heavier, yet his movements grew slower and slower, as if deliberately prolonging this process, or as if confirming something.
Gu Ziyao’s fingers slowly curled, gripping his hand in return.
Shen Junyan’s movements paused.
Only for an instant.
Then he lowered his head, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his burning lips brushing her earlobe as he murmured two indistinct words.
His voice was very soft, so soft it was like a dream whisper.
Gu Ziyao didn’t catch them.
She wanted to turn her head to see his expression, but he cupped her chin, sealing her lips with his once more.
This kiss was light, gentle, carrying a kind of cautious exploration.
Moonlight fell upon the edge of the bed, illuminating their entwined bodies.
Gu Ziyao closed her eyes, letting herself sink into this scorching darkness.
She told herself, only tonight.
Once dawn broke, she would still be the solitary Gu Ziyao, and he would still be the Shen Junyan who had vanished for three years.
No disturbance between them.
That was what he himself had said.
Gu Ziyao woke from thirst.
She slowly opened her weary eyes. As soon as she shifted her body slightly, a wave of soreness immediately spread through her entire being.
As if she had been run over by a truck. Her back ached, her legs ached, her waist ached—even her fingertips felt sore.
She closed her eyes again for a few seconds, letting her consciousness gradually return.
Memories from last night flooded in like a tide—the cocktail party, the hallway, that half-open door, an arm pulling her inside, scorching lips, torn evening gown, heavy breathing, their entanglement under the moonlight.
And Shen Junyan.
Gu Ziyao’s eyes snapped open.
She lay on her side at the edge of the bed, her back pressed against someone’s chest. That arm was still draped over her waist, exactly where it had been before she fell asleep last night, unmoved the entire night.
She could feel the even breathing of the person behind her, the slow rise and fall of his chest against her back, one beat, another, and another.
Gu Ziyao’s breath hitched for a moment.
She slowly turned her head, her movements as light as if disarming a bomb.
Shen Junyan’s face was right there, close at hand.
He was still asleep.
Asleep, Shen Junyan seemed less sharp than when awake. His brows and eyes were relaxed, his lips slightly pursed, his breathing long and steady. Morning light fell upon his face, his cool-toned skin almost translucent. Below his cheekbone was a very small mole.
His eyelashes were long, thick, and curled, casting a deep gray shadow beneath his eyes. His nose bridge was high and straight, forming a smooth arc from the brow bone to the tip. His jawline was sharp, carrying an innate coolness even when relaxed.
His arm rested on her waist, fingers slightly curled, with long and slender knuckles.
Gu Ziyao looked at him, her heart feeling as if gripped by an invisible hand—sour, swollen, and breathless.