Pei Huaijin felt like he had probably gone mad.
Over the past thirty years, he had made many important decisions—taking on the role of CEO of the Pei Group, acquiring competitors, vetoing proposals from the old guard at board meetings… For every decision, he had carefully considered all angles, weighed the pros and cons, and never allowed himself to regret anything.
But tonight, he had made a decision that defied all logic.
He could have turned and left, returned to the hotel where he was staying, taken a shower, slept, and continued with meetings tomorrow.
That was what he should have done.
That was what Pei Huaijin would have done.
He didn’t know why, but he had inexplicably stayed.
He was always calm and self-possessed, never losing control. In everyone’s eyes, he was the disciplined and proper heir, but tonight, he was about to shatter that image himself.
Mad. He was truly mad.
Shen Qingyu stood where she was, watching his back as he handled the check-in.
—Wait.
It suddenly dawned on her.
Had he just said, “Change it to a king-size bed”?
Had he just said, “For two people”?
He—
Shen Qingyu’s face flushed hot.
The front desk handed him the new room key. He took it, turned around, and walked back to her.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Shen Qingyu looked at him, opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
He had already taken two steps forward when he noticed she wasn’t following. He glanced back at her.
“What,” he said, “regretting it already?”
Shen Qingyu’s mind was still in a daze, but his words felt like pouring oil on a fire.
“Who’s regretting it?” She quickly caught up to him and grabbed his sleeve. “Let’s go then.”
He didn’t say anything, just glanced down at her hand gripping his sleeve.
His gaze was indifferent, but she let go anyway.
There were only the two of them in the elevator.
Shen Qingyu leaned against the elevator wall, staring at the changing floor numbers. The elevator ascended smoothly, without a sound, so quiet she could hear her own increasingly rapid heartbeat.
She suddenly regretted not letting him leave earlier. She had never done anything like this before.
Not just something like this—over the past twenty-six years, she had maintained the image of a good girl, never even dating.
But tonight—
She didn’t know what had come over her.
Maybe it was because of her mother’s phone call.
Maybe it was because of the alcohol.
Maybe it was because of him.
She looked up and stole a glance at him.
He stood on the other side of the elevator, looking straight ahead, his face expressionless, as if he were just taking the elevator back to his room, and the woman standing beside him wasn’t a stranger about to share a bed with him.
Shen Qingyu suddenly felt a little indignant.
Why was he so calm?
She took a step forward, moving closer to him.
He didn’t move.
She took another step.
He still didn’t move.
Shen Qingyu gritted her teeth and simply stood right beside him, their arms touching.
He finally looked down at her.
His gaze was still indifferent, but Shen Qingyu suddenly had a feeling—he was holding back.
The elevator stopped.
The doors opened, and he walked out, with her following behind.
The hallway was long, the lights bright, and the carpet muffled their footsteps. She followed him, watching his back, her heartbeat growing faster and faster.
He stopped in front of a door and swiped the keycard.
The lock clicked.
He pushed the door open, stepped aside, and glanced at her.
“Go in.”
Shen Qingyu stood at the doorway, looking at the king-size bed inside.
It was huge.
Dazzlingly white.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Then she took a deep breath and walked in.
The door closed behind her.
The room was quiet, with only the low hum of the air conditioner running.
Shen Qingyu stood by the bed, unsure of what to do.
She had been so bold downstairs, but now that it had come to this, she suddenly felt at a loss.
A rustling sound came from behind her.
She turned around and saw him take off his overcoat, then his suit jacket, then his watch—she recognized the brand; it was expensive.
After removing the watch, he looked up and met her gaze.
“What are you standing there for?” he said, his tone still that same indifferent one. “Go take a shower.”
Shen Qingyu was taken aback.
“Huh?”
“Shower,” he repeated, tilting his chin toward the bathroom.
But Shen Qingyu remained rooted to the spot.
He glanced at her, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
“What,” he said, “afraid I’ll run away?”
“Who’s afraid?” Shen Qingyu retorted reflexively, then walked toward the bathroom.
After a couple of steps, she suddenly remembered something and turned back to look at him.
He was still standing there, undoing the buttons on his shirt cuffs.
“You…” she started, “aren’t you going to shower?”
His hands paused for a moment, and he looked up at her.
His gaze was indifferent, but Shen Qingyu felt there was something else hidden beneath it.
“You want to shower together?” he asked.
Shen Qingyu’s face flushed bright red.
“Who wants to shower together!” she threw back the words, quickly walked into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.
After the door closed, she leaned against it, covering her face, her heart pounding.
Why had she asked that just now?
That wasn’t what she meant at all—how utterly embarrassing.
The bathroom was spacious, with a separate shower stall and a large bathtub. Shen Qingyu stood in front of the mirror, looking at her own flushed face, and took several deep breaths.
Calm down.
Calm down.
She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face.
Then she took off her clothes and stepped into the shower.
As the hot water poured down, she closed her eyes, letting the flow wash away the chaotic scents clinging to her—the smell of smoke from the bar, alcohol, perfume, and—the scent of cedarwood from him.
Was she really going to be here with a stranger—
Shen Qingyu took a deep breath.
She showered slowly, unsure whether she was stalling for time or trying to clear her mind.
After a long while, she finally finished, wrapped herself tightly in the bathrobe, opened the door, and stepped out.
He was standing by the window, his back to her, looking out at the night view. San Francisco’s night lights were dazzling; from here, you could see far into the distance.
Hearing the noise, he turned around.
His gaze fell on her—wrapped in a bathrobe, her hair damp and loose, water droplets trickling down the ends.
His gaze lingered for a moment.
Then he looked away and walked toward the bathroom.
“The hairdryer is under the sink,” he said as he passed by her. “Dry your hair.”
The bathroom door closed.
Shen Qingyu stood there, her heart pounding.
She had seen the look in his eyes just now—indifferent, but with something flickering beneath the surface.
She suddenly felt a little nervous, and a bit of inexplicable anticipation.
She found the hairdryer and dried her hair. Then she sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do.
The sound of running water came from the bathroom.
Her heart beat even faster.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before the water stopped.
Then the door opened, and he walked out.
He was only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, revealing his upper body.
Shen Qingyu’s gaze fell on him, and then she couldn’t look away.
His physique was far better than she had imagined—broad shoulders, a narrow waist, well-defined pectoral muscles, a chiseled abdomen, and the lines of his Adonis belt disappearing into the towel. Droplets of water still clung to his skin, sliding down the contours of his muscles.
His hair was wet, softening the previously meticulous appearance, with a few stray strands falling over his forehead, making him look a few years younger.
He glanced at her and picked up the hairdryer to dry his hair.
“Seen enough?” he asked, his tone still indifferent.
Shen Qingyu’s face flushed instantly, and she quickly lowered her head.
After drying his hair, he walked over and reached out to lift her chin.
She was forced to meet his eyes.
Those eyes were still as indifferent as ever, but something beneath the surface had already stirred.
“You can still regret it now,” he said, his voice lower and huskier than before.
Shen Qingyu looked at him, her heart pounding so fast it felt like it might leap out of her throat.
But she still shook her head.
“I don’t regret it.”
He looked at her for two seconds.
Then he leaned down.
His hands braced on either side of her, close enough for her to see her eyelashes—long, thick, casting a small shadow on her eyelids as they lowered.
“Clean?” he asked again.
“Don’t worry, this is my first time tonight. You’re getting a bargain,” she said, lifting her hand to hook it around his neck.
He paused for a second.
Then he kissed her.