Luo Yan walked up to Fan Zhou and raised an eyebrow with a smile.
"Smoking at such a young age—who taught you that?"
She lifted her hand, pinching the lit cigarette from his lips between her index and middle fingers. Bending her elbow, she brought it to her own lips and took a drag.
Luo Yan narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to blow out a smoke ring. Every movement was indescribably alluring.
Fan Zhou watched her practiced smoking technique in surprise, then heard her ask, "Do you have a girlfriend?"
Before he could even wonder why she'd suddenly asked that, the answer had already slipped out. "No."
Luo Yan chuckled softly and stepped closer, her voice low and sweet:
"Big sister didn't have time to prepare anything, so I'll give you this as a birthday gift."
Under Fan Zhou's bewildered gaze, she rose on her tiptoes, leaned in, and pressed her red lips to his.
Fan Zhou's entire body went rigid. He stared at Luo Yan, so close he could see every detail, his brain short-circuiting as he forgot to move.
Her lips were soft and slightly cool, like they carried an electric current that left him tingling and numb.
The current surged wildly, racing to his heart, which sped up uncontrollably, pounding frantically.
Sensing his inexperience, Luo Yan gave him no time to react. Her body pressed against his, and her tongue deftly parted his lips and teeth.
Fan Zhou's eyes flew wide open. Without thinking, he raised his hands and wrapped them around her waist.
Her waist was so slender it seemed barely a handful, and the feel of it was exquisite—it tempted a person to press even closer. Fan Zhou tightened his arms and pulled her into his embrace.
Beyond the faint scent of tobacco, his nostrils were filled entirely with her fresh, refreshing body fragrance.
Countless times better than any perfume, and utterly intoxicating.
A nameless fire suddenly ignited within him, so scorching it left his mouth dry and his tongue parched.
A woman's lips and tongue were so soft—Fan Zhou was bewitched.
He realized the functions throughout his body were spiraling out of control, instinctively chasing her sweet tongue to deepen the kiss.
The next second, Luo Yan playfully dodged and withdrew, pushing him away.
Her eyes held a brimming smile and the coy shyness of one who resists yet welcomes.
The aura of both seductive allure and pure sweetness blended together without the slightest discord.
Fan Zhou felt his throat tighten.
He furrowed his brow, his expression seeming to convey dissatisfaction, his short-circuited brain slowly turning as he tried to think of something to say.
"Isn't Yan Jun your fiancé?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Fan Zhou regretted them—it sounded like he was jealous.
She had a fiancé. Why would she do this to him?
Luo Yan looked at him with a smile and placed the lit cigarette back between his fingers, gently coaxing him, "Don't be jealous. Soon he won't be."
What did that mean? Fan Zhou stared blankly as Luo Yan turned and walked back into the private room.
Right after, Luo Yi came out following Luo Yan.
"Fan Zhou, I'm gonna walk my sister out to grab a cab, be right back!"
Fan Zhou's eyes, dark as ink, were fixed intently on Luo Yan.
She blinked at him and pouted her lips.
It reminded him of just moments ago, when their lips and tongues had tangled together.
He watched her retreating figure—the way her waist twisted, so thin, so soft; the way her hips curved, so perky; her legs, so long.
A sudden burn stung his fingertips—the cigarette butt had scorched him. Fan Zhou's hand jerked in pain, and the cigarette butt fell to the marble floor.
He rubbed his fingers together, touched his own lips, and stared at the flickering ember on the ground, feeling inexplicably restless.
Her graceful figure lingered before his eyes, refusing to fade.
For the first time in his life, he felt the urge and desire to be intimate with the opposite sex.
He wanted to fuck her.
When he got home, Luo Mingna was lying on the living room sofa, playing on her phone.
Seeing Luo Yan's outfit, she sat up, both shocked and jealous, her words dripping with sarcasm.
"What are you wearing? You look like some delinquent girl heading to a nightclub. Just because your fiancé betrayed you doesn't mean you have to sink so low.
The more you act like this, the less Yan Jun-ge will even glance your way."
Luo Yan stood still, her scrutinizing gaze sweeping from the strands of Luo Mingna's hair down to her heels.
Utterly unremarkable. Nothing worth praising.
"Even if you stripped naked, your precious Yan Jun-ge still wouldn't give you a second look."
"What did you say?"
Luo Mingna was furious, shooting to her feet and glaring at Luo Yan with burning anger.
Compared to Luo Yan, her delicate, pretty features and B-cup figure were simply nothing to look at.
That was what she dreaded most for anyone to bring up.
"Luo Mingxin is pretty tall—how come you're so short?"
Luo Yan continued to provoke her with a condescending gaze. "No height, no looks, no figure.
All you've got is that mouth of yours. Master that skill, and I guess it counts as your one talent."
"Luo Yan! You've picked the wrong person to mess with—I'm not some soft persimmon you can squeeze however you like!"
Flushed with humiliation and rage, Luo Mingna looked around, grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa, and hurled it at Luo Yan.
Luo Yan swung the handbag she was holding and knocked the cushion to the floor.
Then she switched to a smile. "Alright, stop making a fool of yourself in front of me. Save that energy for the men."
Luo Mingna, whose every scheme and calculation was written all over her face, really had no fighting power.
At most, she could manage snide remarks and passive-aggressive digs.
If you didn't want to deal with her, just ignore her—she'd tire herself out and quiet down on her own.
Luo Yan turned and headed upstairs, while Luo Mingna called out from behind:
"Luo Yan! What do you mean by that! Are you mocking me? You know I don't have a boyfriend!"
Seeing Luo Yan climb the stairs without so much as a backward glance, Luo Mingna stamped her feet in fury but had no way to retaliate.
She didn't dare chase after Luo Yan to pick another fight—if she stirred up Luo Liancheng, she'd definitely get a scolding.
Back in her room, after washing up, Luo Yan checked the time. It wasn't even midnight yet.
Good. No need to stay up late tonight—she could get her beauty sleep.
She lay down on the bed, pulled out her phone, and sent a message to Yan Jiu, whom she'd added as a friend:
[Little uncle, I lost an earring. It looks like this. Is it with you?]
She attached a selfie, her head tilted to show the other earring she was wearing—a teardrop-shaped moonstone with a bluish-white iridescence glowing at its center.
In the photo, Luo Yan was bare-faced yet still stunningly beautiful.
Her skin was fair and flawless, her features delicate as a painting. Her eyes were closed, brows slightly furrowed, red lips parted just a touch.
The beauty seemed to be enduring something, revealing a fragile, vulnerable side that left plenty of room for imagination.
Luo Yan's current appearance was seventy or eighty percent similar to her looks in the original world, which had helped her quickly adapt to her new identity when she first arrived.
She was very pleased with this gorgeous photo and spent a good while admiring herself.
Wasn't this stunning face far better than that Chen Rou replacement? And her figure was smoking hot too.
Any man with normal taste would surely fall for her—she deserved to be cherished like a treasure.
Yan Jun's taste in women was absolutely terrible, but she couldn't blame him—she blamed the author.
A few minutes later, Yan Jiu replied:
[Aunt Tian found it on the carpet while cleaning the room.]
[Please hold onto it for me, little uncle. I'll come pick it up when I have time.]
The perfectly proper message contrasted sharply with the selfie she'd sent, creating a kind of adorable mismatch.
Today there's no excuse of being drunk, so he can't be too rash with his words.
He took off his earring and placed it on the bedside cabinet along with his phone, then lay down to sleep.
When Yan Jiu sent back a "Okay," Luo Yan, with an untroubled mind, had already fallen into dreamland.
The man holding his phone received no further messages—not even a polite greeting like goodnight.
Usually he only called to discuss business; Yan Jiu never posted on Weibo or Moments.
Nor did he chat with people much via text. Was it trendy now to cut off conversations abruptly?
He opened Luo Yan's photo again. Her raven-black hair was spread across the pure white pillow, and in one corner of the photo, a smooth collarbone and shoulder were exposed.
The woman's expression—wretched and painful—was indescribable.
As if she were being "bullied."
Yan Jiu gazed deeply at the phone screen, moved his finger, and accidentally tapped save.