Wen Yan woke up with a heavy head, her back and waist aching as if she had been fighting someone all night.
She closed her eyes and stretched her arms, her hand brushing against a patch of warm, firm skin.
Opening her eyes, she saw a man lying beside her, his back broad and relaxed.
She was instantly jolted awake, sitting up abruptly.
As the blanket slipped off, a chill hit her shoulders. Looking down at her exposed skin, her mind went blank, and she hurriedly pulled the blanket tight around herself.
At the same time, the man was startled awake by her movements. He slowly turned over, his sleepy eyes sweeping toward her, a faint smile curling his thin lips, exuding a wild aura.
"Morning."
His voice was hoarse and lazy, perfectly matching his relaxed state.
"Xie Cheng?!"
Wen Yan’s pupils contracted sharply, and she instinctively recoiled.
Her gaze fell on her ex, whose features were as cool and detached as ever, reminding her that he had never been a gentle soul.
Beneath that cold, ascetic exterior, the intense desire for control remained unchanged.
Xie Cheng glanced at her, then rose unhurriedly, casually wrapping a towel around his waist.
The dim light flowed over his body, highlighting his defined abs and taut waist, with the V-line disappearing beneath the loosely draped towel.
Despite his casual posture, he radiated an aggressive, sensual tension.
Wen Yan averted her eyes, her voice trembling with shame and anger. "Why am I here?"
It wasn’t hard to tell from the decor that this was a luxury hotel suite.
She remembered getting drunk last night, being abandoned by Qi Siye, and hailing a taxi on the street. After that, everything was a blur.
"You were too drunk to go home, insisted on staying at a hotel, and forced yourself on me."
Xie Cheng’s tone was matter-of-fact as he sprawled on the sofa, his thin lips pressed together. His slender fingers picked up a cigarette case, shook out a cigarette, but didn’t light it, merely playing with it between his fingers.
The light slid across his profile, casting his features in shadow, his expression too gloomy to discern.
Only his eyes glimmered faintly in the darkness.
Wen Yan lifted her head, her gaze sharp. "Nonsense! I was completely blackout drunk. You must have taken advantage of me."
Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach as she curled up in a corner of the large bed, her mind in turmoil.
She was getting married in three months, yet here she was, waking up in her ex’s bed.
Xie Cheng looked at her, his gaze lingering for a moment.
Her cheeks bore sleep marks, and her eyes were swollen from the hangover, yet she was still breathtakingly beautiful.
Many mornings, she had woken up just like this, then snuggled into his arms to laze in bed.
The thought of Qi Siye seeing her like this too stirred an inexplicable irritation in him.
"Eat your fill, wipe your mouth clean, and then deny everything. Reporter Wen’s heartlessness hasn’t changed a bit."
He sneered, swiping his phone screen with one hand, opening a video, and tossing the phone onto the bed.
In the video, she was clinging to Xie Cheng, rubbing her face against his chest.
Xie Cheng tried to pull away, but she hooked her arms around his neck and kissed him.
He took two steps back, and they both tumbled onto the bed. She straddled his waist, her hands reaching for his belt buckle…
Wen Yan didn’t dare watch the rest. This was exactly the kind of thing she was capable of.
Back then, she had fallen for Xie Cheng at first sight, like a thirsty person seeing water or a freezing person seeing fire.
She was infatuated with his looks, his scent, his warmth, his voice.
After countless effortless heartbeats, she still couldn’t resist wanting to get closer, to possess him.
She covered her face with her hands, her heart as cold as ashes, the skin beneath her palms burning as if on fire.
What kind of decent person would record such a video? Though in her eyes, Xie Cheng could hardly be considered a decent person either.
She thought of something and reached for the phone on the bed, but Xie Cheng was quicker—the phone was already between his fingers.
"Planning to delete the video and frame me? Or afraid your fiancé might see it?"
Xie Cheng shook the phone slightly, his cool, narrow eyes narrowing further with a faint, mocking smile.
Wen Yan withdrew her hand, leaning back against the pillow, steadying her breathing.
She couldn’t panic—panicking meant losing.
"Dr. Xie, you wouldn’t happen to still have feelings for me and want to keep the video as a memento, would you?"
She didn’t believe Xie Cheng was entirely without malice. As a grown man, if he truly wanted to refuse, he could have pushed her away and left.
But he hadn’t left. Instead, he had recorded the video.
Yet, what was done was done. For now, she had no choice but to swallow this bitter pill.
"I have plenty of videos like this—on the sofa, the dining table, in the bathroom, in the car, in all sorts of places and positions. Has Reporter Wen forgotten it all in just three short years?"
Xie Cheng’s tone was playful as he twirled the phone between his fingers.
Wen Yan clenched her teeth, her cheeks burning even hotter with humiliation.
In the heat of passion, she had mistaken a fleeting moment for a lifetime. At their most fervent, she had wished to meld him into her very bones and blood.
She wished she could forget, but she couldn’t.
The phone on the bedside table suddenly rang—it was Qi Siye calling.
She reached for it, but Xie Cheng snatched it away again.
He answered the call and put it on speakerphone.
Wen Yan’s heart leaped into her throat as she stared at him nervously.
"Yanyan, Wantang wasn’t feeling well yesterday, so I stayed with her at the hospital. Were you alright last night?"
Qi Siye’s voice sounded hoarse, as if he hadn’t slept all night.
Wen Yan felt as though a moldy, tattered cloth were stuck in her throat—unable to swallow it down or spit it out.
Last night, she had been dead drunk. If not for Xie Cheng, the consequences would have been unthinkable.
But it had to be Xie Cheng—the consequences were equally unfortunate.
"It’s fine. Xie Cheng ended up taking me home."
"Xie Cheng? You’re that close with him now?"
Qi Siye’s tone was startled, clearly influenced by Xie Cheng’s usual arrogance.
"Not close at all," Wen Yan replied without hesitation.
The Xie Cheng she knew was the poor boy from back then. As for the young master of the Xie family, she truly didn’t know him.
Xie Cheng’s fingers tightened around the phone, his knuckles turning white. A trace of mockery flickered in the corners of his upturned eyes, his gaze turning cold.
On the other end of the line, Qi Siye continued speaking.
"I’ll thank him the next time we meet. I was too worried about Wantang last night—don’t be upset. I’ll come home to pick you up later. We’ll go out for lunch and try on wedding dresses in the afternoon."
"Alright."
Wen Yan agreed, urging him to hang up.
Her chest felt heavy, as if weighed down by a stone. How was she supposed to face Qi Siye after what had happened?
Xie Cheng tossed the phone back to her, not gently. It landed on the blanket and bounced slightly.
"Back then, you looked down on me for being poor and jumped straight to Qi Siye, getting engaged just six months after we broke up."
"Miss Wen, do you regret it?"
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs, his gaze teasing as he scrutinized her, his low voice dripping with sarcasm.
His towel had loosened, revealing his waistline, marked with red scratches from fingernails.
Wen Yan froze, her nose tingling with emotion, her swollen lips trembling slightly.
She lowered her eyes, her lashes casting shadows beneath them, concealing all her emotions.
He hadn’t explicitly stated what she should regret, but she understood.
Fighting over another woman and abandoning his drunk fiancée on a late-night street—this was the man she had chosen to marry.
If she had chosen him for love, she would likely be filled with regret by now.
Fortunately, that wasn’t the case.
She raised her gaze, meeting Xie Cheng’s eyes with unwavering resolve. "I don’t regret it."
Perhaps I should add, "The four years I spent with you are what I regret most," having deceived her for a full four years, from the moment we met until we broke up.
The poverty was fake, the identity was fake—only the name was real.
How cruel.
But in the end, she was not Xie Cheng, incapable of such cruelty. She couldn’t even bring herself to utter such harsh words.
After a brief silence, she smiled faintly: "At least Qi Siye would never pretend to be poor and deceive me."