Pei Huaijin watched the three of them leave the bar, then looked down at the woman beside him.
She was leaning against him, breathing rapidly, her fingers clutching his sleeve so tightly her knuckles had gone white. She lifted her head as if to say something, but her lips only moved around a vague sound.
Then her gaze began to go unfocused, and her whole body started to slide downward.
Pei Huaijin put an arm around her waist to steady her and asked quietly, “Are you all right?”
She slumped limply against him, already too drunk to keep her eyes open.
He stood there for two seconds.
Then, for the second time that night, he made a decision he felt he shouldn’t make.
“Come on,” he said, half supporting and half carrying her toward the exit. “Where do you live? I’ll take you home.”
Shen Qingyu’s mind was in no state to think clearly. She struggled to open her eyes and get a look at the man.
He had high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, a straight nose, and thin lips pressed together. He looked like the sort of person who was hard to approach.
He wore a black overcoat over a dark gray suit, his tie perfectly knotted—a stark contrast to the chaotic bar around them.
“Where do you live?” he asked again when she didn’t respond. “I’ll take you home.”
Shen Qingyu stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly let out a laugh.
“Who are you?” she said, her tongue a little thick. “Why should I tell you where I live?”
Pei Huaijin paused, then gave a cold laugh. “Then where are you planning to go?”
Shen Qingyu thought about it, but couldn’t come up with an answer.
“I’ll take you to a hotel,” Pei Huaijin decided, helping her toward the exit.
A Bentley Mulsanne was waiting outside the bar, the driver seated behind the wheel.
Shen Qingyu was helped into the back seat. The man got in on the other side and sat beside her. The car was warm, with a faint scent of leather and cedar.
She leaned back against the seat and tilted her head to look at him.
“What did you say to those people just now?” she asked. “How come they left so meekly?”
“Nothing much,” Pei Huaijin replied evenly. “You don’t need to know.”
Shen Qingyu blinked, then pursed her lips.
“Fine. Keep your secrets.”
Pei Huaijin glanced at her, his expression mild, as if he were looking at a child who didn’t know any better.
The car stopped outside a hotel. Pei Huaijin got out, helped her out, told the driver, “Wait here,” and then escorted her into the lobby.
“One single room,” he said to the front desk.
Shen Qingyu leaned to one side and watched him check in.
Once he was done, Pei Huaijin handed her the key card. “Go upstairs and get some sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, go home on your own.”
Shen Qingyu took the card but didn’t move. “What about you?”
“I’m leaving.” He turned and walked away without another word.
Shen Qingyu watched his back, and suddenly an impulse surged through her.
—She had wanted to let loose tonight.
—She hadn’t wanted to be anyone’s Good Girl tonight.
She hurried after him for a couple of steps and grabbed his sleeve.
Pei Huaijin turned around.
“Hey, Older Brother.” She tipped her face up to look at him. The alcohol she’d drunk at the bar was now coursing through her veins, making her say things she would never normally say. “You brought me here to get a room. Aren’t you coming upstairs with me?”
Pei Huaijin’s brow shifted slightly.
“You’re drunk,” he said, his voice still as even as before. “I didn’t know where you lived, so I brought you to a hotel. That’s all.”
“Oh.” Shen Qingyu nodded, then looked up into his eyes. “Well, I’m inviting you to come upstairs with me now. Are you coming?”
Pei Huaijin’s expression finally changed a little.
Not surprise, and not desire. More like… helplessness.
“Please have some self-respect,” he said.
Shen Qingyu stared at him for a moment, then laughed.
“Why are you putting on an act?” She let go of his sleeve, took a step back, and tilted her head at him. “You brought me to a hotel. Isn’t it because you want to sleep with me?”
Pei Huaijin said nothing.
“Or…” She deliberately drew out the word, letting her gaze travel down from his face. “Are you impotent?”
Pei Huaijin’s eyes darkened for a moment.
Shen Qingyu straightened up, then, right in front of him, took off her cashmere cardigan and threw it on the floor.
Beneath it, she wore a white silk camisole. Under the hotel lobby lights, the thin fabric covered almost nothing.
“Your girl here has a great figure.” She took a step forward until she was right up against him, then tipped her head back to look at him. “You wouldn’t be losing out by sleeping with me.”
She simply didn’t want to be anyone’s Good Girl tonight.
Tonight, she wanted to do something completely unlike herself.
Before the arranged marriage, she would let herself go just once—put a full stop to twenty-six years of following the rules.
She reached for his tie.
Pei Huaijin didn’t move.
She tugged it loose, then started undoing the buttons on his suit jacket. When her fingers touched his shirt, he suddenly raised a hand and caught her by the wrist.
His palm was burning hot.
Shen Qingyu lifted her head and met his eyes.
They were deep as the sea at midnight, calm on the surface, with something churning below.
“Are you sure?” he asked. His voice had dropped and turned slightly hoarse, but it still had that same even quality.
Shen Qingyu looked at him, and her heart suddenly skipped a beat.
But she didn’t back down.
“Of course I’m sure.”
Shen Qingyu didn’t know how she managed to say those words.
The alcohol was still burning in her veins, making her head swim, making her dare to say anything and do anything.
Pei Huaijin looked at her for a long time—long enough for Shen Qingyu to think he was going to leave her there.
Then he moved.
He released her wrist and stepped back.
Shen Qingyu’s heart sank—he really was going to leave.
But before she had time to feel disappointed, she saw him bend down.
He picked up the cashmere cardigan from the floor, shook it out, and draped it over her shoulders. His touch was light, almost casual, yet somehow it carried a patience she couldn’t understand.
“Put it on,” he said.
Shen Qingyu blinked. “Huh?”
“Aren’t you cold?” he said, his tone still as even as before.
Shen Qingyu gathered the cardigan around herself, then looked up at him.
He had already turned and was walking back to the front desk.
“Could you change that single room I just booked,” he said to the receptionist, not loudly, but with crisp enunciation, “to a room with a king-size bed for two?”
The blonde receptionist blinked. Her gaze passed over him and settled on Shen Qingyu, then returned to him with a knowing smile.
“Of course, sir. One moment, please.”