“Why are you refusing to leave?”
Zhao Nige refused to budge.
Not only did she stay put, but she also grabbed him. “I’ve waited for you this long. The least you can do is dance with me.”
She wasn’t strong, her grip almost delicate.
As she linked her arm through his, her entire body leaned in toward him. Perhaps from the few glasses of fruit wine she’d drunk, her voice was huskier and more languid than usual. Her refusal to let go was a clingy, demanding gesture.
But Lu Yanling would never let her cause a scene in front of so many military officers.
He shot her a cryptic look. “So you won’t leave?”
Before Zhao Nige could process his gaze, his large hand clamped around her waist and wrist. Her feet left the ground, and she was hoisted into the air.
He held her up with one arm, effortlessly as if he were lifting a small chick.
“Lu Yanling, put me down!”
Zhao Nige was furious. “I’ve been sitting here all night! You show up and refuse to dance with me? How am I supposed to save face?”
Lu Yanling stared at her, utterly speechless.
Dangling from his arm, she glared at him fiercely. “I don’t care! I’m dancing tonight, one way or another!”
Even if the Emperor himself showed up, she was going to dance!
She, Zhao Nige, the undisputed star of the dance floor, had never been so humiliated. How had she fallen so far that she couldn’t even get a single dance at a party?
“Lu Yanling, put me down! Or I’ll fight you!” she cried, clawing at his hands.
Across the room, Zhao Lanxin stared at them, dumbfounded.
When had Zhao Nige and Lu Yanling gotten so close?
Their posture was shockingly intimate. brigade commander Lu had practically pulled Zhao Nige into his arms, his possessive grip a stark contrast to the icy distance he’d maintained with her just moments ago.
Ignoring the stunned gazes from the rest of the ballroom, Lu Yanling strode toward the exit, carrying the struggling woman in his arms.
Zhao Lanxin made one last desperate attempt. As he passed, she called out in a high-pitched, strained voice, “Lu—”
The man shot her a glacial glare.
A shiver ran down Zhao Lanxin’s spine, and the rest of her words died in her throat.
Just then, Zhao Nige spotted her. Her eyes widened as if she’d seen a savior, and she waved an arm frantically. “Zhao Lanxin, help me!”
Zhao Lanxin stared back, speechless.
I really want to strangle her.
***
Zhao Nige’s struggles were in vain. Lu Yanling half-carried, half-dragged her out of the ballroom.
He set her down in the stairwell.
Zhao Nige stared at him in disbelief. “Lu Yanling, you’re absolutely vicious.”
The accusation made him laugh. It was a cold, dry laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.
He casually began unbuttoning his cuffs. “Keeping you from dancing inside is vicious?”
“Yes!” Zhao Nige declared with righteous indignation. “It’s like forbidding you soldiers from going to the front lines! It’s an insult to my profession!”
Lu Yanling arched a brow, watching her cheeks puff out like a pufferfish. Amusing.
“Is it really that serious?”
“Of course it is!”
Zhao Nige glared at him, her large eyes brimming with both fury and grievance. Her long, curled lashes fluttered, conveying every ounce of her protest and resentment.
Lu Yanling glanced at her, his lips pressed thin. He opened his mouth to tell her he couldn’t dance, but then he saw her eyes well up. Her lower lip trembled, and her voice turned soft and pleading.
“I just wanted to see you… I know you’re friends with Guan Chu, so I used him to get you out to eat. I only did that because you wouldn’t say yes when I asked you. I only had a little scheme, it’s not like I actually wanted to go on a date with him. Why do you have to hold it against me?”
“I fought my colleagues for a spot in this performance just to come see you at the base,” she cried, her voice trembling. “I spent eight hours a day in the dance studio without eating or drinking. My feet are swollen, and my legs are covered in bruises!”
“And you?” she continued, her eyes glistening with tears. “You didn’t even come to watch me perform! I waited nearly two hours just to see you. If I hadn’t sent someone to get you, would you have even shown up?”
Her expression and tone were so full of grievance, it was as if she were facing the most heartless man in the world.
Lu Yanling stared at her, his gaze inscrutable.
He held her gaze for nearly a full minute. Zhao Nige’s eyes began to sting, and she finally blinked, nearly breaking the carefully crafted facade of sincerity and despair.
But the effort paid off. Because she had held her eyes open so long, a single, reflexive tear escaped and traced a path down her cheek.
Then, she heard Lu Yanling let out a soft, dismissive sigh.
She couldn’t tell what it meant.
She had built up the drama and set the mood. Now she needed a payoff—some kind of result—whether it was a step forward or a step back.
Otherwise, how am I supposed to save face? she thought. Seriously, man, if you don’t play along, I’m the one who looks like an idiot.
“Lu Yanling, do you hate me?” Zhao Nige asked.
Lu Yanling’s thin lips remained pressed together in a hard line. He didn’t answer. She could only see the sharp profile of his brow and the straight bridge of his nose.
“Do you think I’m some frivolous woman, using petty tricks to get close to your best friend?”
He suddenly looked up, his gaze searching her face. This time, amidst the casual, almost playful look in her eyes, he caught a flicker of self-mockery.
Zhao Nige turned her head away, a wry smile touching her lips. “If you really despise me, fine. I won’t force myself on you anymore. I won’t come looking for you again.”
“I’m heading back to the city tomorrow.” She took a slow step back, her expression shifting to one of cool detachment. “Give me back my lipstick tomorrow. I only left it in your car as an excuse to see you.”
“Now, there’s no reason for you to have it anymore.”
She had shifted from a wronged accuser to a cool, detached stranger without a single hint of warning.
It was as if he had been a toy she’d suddenly taken a fancy to, and now that she was bored, she could simply wave him away with a careless gesture.
Lu Yanling’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His gaze locked onto her, dark and intense. “You woman…”
Hearing the grit in his voice, Zhao Nige knew she’d struck a nerve. She cast him one last, resentful glance and turned on her heel.
“Eldest Young Master Lu, I’m sorry for disturbing you tonight. I’ll be going now.”
She stumbled down the stairs in her high heels, even twisting her ankle for good measure. Clinging to the railing, she struck a pose of utter vulnerability and helplessness, silently counting in her head: One… two… three…
“What the hell are you doing running around in that outfit at this hour?” Lu Yanling snapped, his voice low and harsh as he stared at her retreating figure.
The moment he spoke, Zhao Nige knew her gamble had paid off.
With her back to him, she let out a sly, triumphant smile. Then she turned around, saying nothing, just biting her lip and staring back at him with stubborn defiance.
Lu Yanling gritted his teeth at her contrived expression, yet he still strode toward her, his face a mask of cold fury.
He couldn’t bear to look at that fake face.
He turned her head away from him, then scooped her up in his arms and strode down the stairs.
***
The moment Lu Yanling scooped her up, Zhao Nige immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly.
Strike while the iron’s hot, she thought.
Her eyes were no longer red, her voice no longer tremulous. The aggrieved act was gone, and her complaints about her aching foot had vanished.
She beamed up at his cold, stern face. “I thought you didn’t care if I lived or died?”
Lu Yanling glanced at her. The eyes that had been brimming with tears moments ago now sparkled with triumph, like a child who had just snatched candy from another kid—a look of pure, innocent mischief.
His temples throbbed.
“I brought you here,” he said. “If anything happens, it’s my responsibility.”
She didn’t know when to stop. Leaning in, she taunted him, “But this is a military camp, the safest place in the world. What could possibly happen to me?”
Lu Yanling shot her a warning glare.
Only then did she settle down.
She snuggled into his arms, her arms still looped around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder. With her claws retracted, she looked like a docile little kitten.
The hand cradling her back rested just below her ribs, where her dress exposed her skin. His palm met a surface as cold as ice.
It’s already mid-October, he thought. She should have worn something warmer. Instead, she’s wandering around in the night air dressed like this.
Her head, still resting against his neck, kept shifting restlessly.
The sweet, peach-wine scent of her perfume drifted up to his nose, and the hand gripping her waist began to sweat.
“Stop moving,” he commanded, his brow furrowing.
Zhao Nige tilted her head and looked up at him with feigned innocence. “I’m not moving.”
Lu Yanling closed his eyes, held his breath, and quickened his pace down the stairs. He descended from the fifth-floor ballroom to the ground floor in just two minutes.
As soon as they reached the exit, he set her down.
Even though he’d only walked down five flights of stairs, his back was drenched in sweat. Without a word, he shed his overcoat and wrapped it around her.
Instantly, Zhao Nige was enveloped in the scent of cedarwood—a fragrance usually associated with clothing sachets, known for its cool, aloof quality.
But the coat now draped over her shoulders was anything but cool. It was searing with heat.
Zhao Nige smiled, pulling the overcoat tighter around her.
Before she could speak, the man’s voice cut through the air, laced with impatience. “The Art Troupe’s dorms are in the building across the way. Go back by yourself.”
“Lu Yanling, I still owe you a meal,” Zhao Nige said suddenly. “Last time, when my heel broke and you gave me a ride, I promised to treat you.”
Lu Yanling turned to face her, his gaze unreadable.
“I’m not leaving until tomorrow anyway,” she continued, her tone cheerful. “And you’re free.”
She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. Under the glow of the streetlights, her smile was dazzling and alluring. She began to back away, her steps as effortless as if she were walking on flat ground.
“Lu Yanling… I’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow!”
Her laughter echoed through the empty, silent corridor. She skipped and bounced away, then suddenly threw her arms up and began to dance right there in the middle of the path.
When she reached the peak of her delight, she grabbed a lamppost by the opposite building and spun around and around. Her hair whipped through the air, her skirt flaring.
The surrounding darkness seemed to fade, leaving only a single beam of light illuminating her. She looked like a succubus from an ancient tale, a spirit who came in the dead of night to steal a man’s soul.