1 – Pregnant
Wen Song was pregnant.
Staring at the pregnancy test stick with two lines in her hand, she fell silent.
Last month, at her undergraduate graduation dinner, she hadn’t held back and had a few too many drinks.
She usually enjoyed a little alcohol and had her own lounge and wine cellar on the top floor of this nightclub.
She hadn’t drunk her fill at the dinner, and after it ended, she thought she’d go upstairs to have a bit more on her own.
But when people drink, their emotions tend to get more excited than usual—in her case, it manifested as sheer audacity.
She stood in the elevator, watching the doors about to close, when a fair, slender hand reached through to stop them.
“Excuse me, one moment please.”
A magnetic voice reached her ears. Wen Song looked up, and as the elevator doors opened, her gaze collided with the man stepping in from outside.
Two buttons of his shirt were already undone, and as he tugged at his tie, his collarbone came into view.
The chaotic lighting outside did nothing to diminish the flawless handsomeness of his face.
“Sorry about that.” Once inside the elevator, he gave a slight nod of apology for cutting in at the last moment.
Wen Song paused for a beat, then curved her lips and replied, “No problem.”
The man turned around, and seeing the already-lit button for the 79th floor, silently withdrew his hand.
Wen Song, meanwhile, took two steps back, giving herself a better view of the man before her.
He was over 185 cm by the look of it—broad shoulders, narrow waist, firm rear, and long legs.
His suit jacket was dangling from his hand, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up slightly, revealing strong, solid forearms.
That alone was enough to tell her he was the type who looked lean in clothes but was all muscle underneath.
That face paired with that body—calling him a top-tier catch wouldn’t be an overstatement.
Gulp—
Wen Song clearly heard herself swallow. What a greedy little thing she was.
Soon, the elevator reached the 79th floor.
As the doors opened, the man stepped back two paces, politely waiting for her to exit first.
“Thanks.” Wen Song smiled and staggered out.
Perhaps worried she might actually fall, the man followed and kindly steadied her—but Wen Song instead grabbed his hand in return.
Clearly caught off guard by her move, the man looked up and met her gaze again.
Wen Song lifted the corners of her mouth, her fingers deftly tickling his palm, and said, “Sir, are you short on drinking buddies?”
“Hm?”
“I mean, I could keep you company for a drink or two.”
It had clearly been her own initiative, yet it somehow turned into her graciously agreeing to drink with him.
The man let out a low chuckle. “Do you know who I am?”
Wen Song narrowed her eyes, looked him over again and again, and concluded, “You’re a handsome guy.”
The man curved his lips, making Wen Song’s heart flutter even more.
“Drink?” she asked again, but same trick as before—she immediately followed up a second later, “Come on. My treat.”
With that, she pulled him toward her wine cellar, only to be yanked back by him instead, stumbling into his embrace.
“Let’s go. My treat.”
His voice, rivaling a voice actor’s, was the finest aphrodisiac on that sweltering night—at least Wen Song was a sucker for it.
She leaned into his arms, taking the chance to cop a feel of his abs. Even through the shirt, the defined ridges were unmistakably real.
Wen Song turned her head aside with a smile, her arm naturally looping around his waist.
They walked in that position all the way to his wine cellar. Inside, she found two bottles she had been craving but had never been able to buy. After he nodded his approval, she took them out.
She had expected to end up in her lounge, but instead, they ended up in his.
The lounges on that floor were all laid out similarly, though. After the man opened the door, she kicked off her high heels as she walked in, and found the decanter and glasses in the cabinet with practiced ease.
Finding the indoor atmosphere not romantic enough, she carried an armful of bottles and glasses out to the balcony.
The view from the 79th floor was perfect for the night scene. Wen Song sat down on the floor, smoothing her skirt as she urged, “Come sit down.”
The man crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her with a smile, saying nothing.
Getting no response, Wen Song turned around.
The alcohol she had just drunk was probably starting to go to her head. A flush crept up her cheeks, and her eyes grew misty.
She blinked, reached up, and placed her hand on his belt, her voice soft and coaxing like a child’s: “Sit with me~”
The man’s smile faded from his lips, and he grabbed her restless hand in one firm grip.
Wen Song was stubborn. Since he wouldn’t move, she just kept staring at him.
In the end, the man surrendered to her shimmering gaze.
He sat far away, and since she couldn’t get him to come to her, she simply scooted over to him bit by bit.
After a glass of wine, she was pressed right up against him.
“Really not going to try it?” Wen Song turned her head to look at him. “Just try it. It’s really good.”
With that, she raised her glass and downed it in one go, then turned and swung a leg over to straddle him.
She cupped his face in both hands and pressed her lips straight onto his.
The warm, moist touch landed, and even the rich, mellow aroma of the wine couldn’t mask the faint, elusive scent of her.
Her tongue traced the corner of his mouth, and he involuntarily parted his lips to welcome her in.
The crimson wine passed from her mouth into his, the excess spilling from the corner of her lips and rolling down.
He tasted the wine—and he tasted her.
In the darkness, the sound of their kissing grew louder, and the kiss spiraled toward losing control.
Wen Song braced her arm against his chest, trying to fend off his increasingly forceful advance, but his hand pressed against the back of her head, cutting off all her escape.
Their breaths intertwined, the air growing thinner. Just before Wen Song was about to run out of oxygen, the man finally released her.
His chest was heaving, and the change in his body was proof enough of his arousal.
Wen Song’s mind was a blur. She just stared at him blankly as he reached up and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Still don’t know who I am?”
She couldn’t even tell if she was truly drunk or drunk on him. Her eyes flickered as she replied, “You’re the man I’ve never met before.”
The man let out a breath that was almost a laugh. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and asked again, “No regrets?”
Wen Song found him too wordy. She leaned in and bit down on his lip. The man let out a soft “hiss” but immediately turned the tables.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, one hand supporting her bottom, and lifted her up with ease.
The kiss traveled from the balcony all the way to the bedroom. The moment she sank into the sheets, the man paused. “Don’t cry when you sober up tomorrow.”
Wen Song didn’t want to talk. She reached up and grabbed hold of his already crooked tie.
The man curled his lips into a smile. After she removed his tie, he swiftly took it and bound her hands behind her head.
Another fierce, urgent kiss descended, his lips tracing over every spot where the red wine had dampened her skin.
The night gradually grew intoxicating.
Wen Song had fond memories of the entire evening, but when she woke up the next morning and saw clearly who was lying beside her, she felt as if the sky had come crashing down.