Chapter 49

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Su Jinglan moved to step inside, but Ning Jiuwei blocked the doorway, showing no sign of letting her pass.

“Next time. It’s not convenient to invite President Su in tonight.” Without giving Su Jinglan a chance to come up with an excuse, Ning Jiuwei shut the door.

Through the solid door panel, she couldn’t hear the other woman’s voice or see her face. Ning Jiuwei lowered her gaze, pressing her hand against the door to steady her unsteady body.

Her restless mind tricked her into feeling like her body was swaying, and each quick breath filled her lungs with the familiar scent of Su Jinglan’s perfume.

Su Jinglan hadn’t left. From the open door of the apartment behind her emerged a tall, slender woman who stopped a step away at her right rear and offered her something from her hand.

“President Su, a little gift for the neighbor.”

Su Jinglan glanced at it but didn’t take it. “She doesn’t like sweet pastries.”

Lin Zhaoyue fell silent at that and retreated back inside.

“Wait.” Su Jinglan called after Lin Zhaoyue, then changed her mind and took the Butterfly Pastry from her hand.

The corridor linking the two facing apartments stayed lit through the night, and no one else ever came by at this hour. Su Jinglan held the Butterfly Pastry in one hand and pressed the doorbell again.

The clear chime rang out through every corner of the house, especially sharp to Ning Jiuwei standing right behind the door. She lifted her eyes, hesitated for a moment, then touched the Smart Control Panel on the wall.

The Smart Control Panel managed the entire Smart Home system, including the external Smart Video Doorbell. The screen lit up with options, and Ning Jiuwei unlocked the permissions with her fingerprint before tapping into the surveillance feed.

She seldom used the camera. The Residential Complex had ironclad security—no visitor passcode meant no entry to the grounds, and even if someone slipped through, the system logged everything. There was no real danger to worry about, which made the video doorbell little more than decoration.

Su Jinglan stood tall and composed, the picture of casual friendliness, as if she’d only come to extend neighborly goodwill.

The camera was fixed in place but could swivel. Su Jinglan’s sharp instincts kicked in the instant it activated, and she looked straight up at it.

She curved her lips into a gentle smile. That deep, piercing gaze of hers could see right through a person’s soul—and now it reached out through the lens itself.

Their eyes met on the screen, and Ning Jiuwei’s heart lurched. She let out a long breath, silently counted to ten, and opened the door.

Her expression was soft and composed, betraying nothing as she spoke to Su Jinglan without a hint of rush. “President Su, was there something else?”

“I brought you a box of Butterfly Pastry.” Su Jinglan extended the sweet treat. “And I’d like to chat with Designer Ning about the Annual New Product tasks.”

Ning Jiuwei: “…” She never should have opened the door.

“I don’t like sweets.” Ning Jiuwei delivered the rejection she’d prepared ahead of time. Her mind raced through work matters in a flash, and after a brief pause, she added, “It’s after hours. We can handle work tomorrow at the office.”

Su Jinglan arched a brow. “I’ll count it as overtime pay for Designer Ning.”

Ning Jiuwei didn’t need the money and opened her mouth to refuse—until the elevator doors slid open and a familiar figure came into view. Without a second thought, she yanked Su Jinglan inside.

The elevator doors parted fully. Wen Wanyuan, head down as she typed out a message, glanced up at her surroundings and started toward Ning Jiuwei’s door.

The doorbell rang just as Ning Jiuwei’s phone buzzed to life. Su Jinglan leaned back against the Entryway Cabinet, her eyes tracing the distant ringtone toward the Study.

“Teacher Ning, who’s that?” Su Jinglan turned Ning Jiuwei’s hand in her grip and leaned in close to her ear, whispering as if afraid of being overheard from outside.

Hot breath grazed sensitive skin, carrying the familiar sandalwood scent from behind Su Jinglan’s ear. Ning Jiuwei’s breath caught, her voice momentarily trapped in her throat.

Su Jinglan set the Butterfly Pastry down on the cabinet with a casual hand, then let out a soft chuckle and turned to face Ning Jiuwei.

Bright light poured down from overhead, illuminating her exquisite features in sharp detail up close: flawless pale skin, the faint tremble of her fine lashes, lips that looked impossibly soft beneath the straight bridge of her nose. Su Jinglan’s gaze traced every fine line and texture on those lips, and she swallowed without thinking.

They were pressed too close—close enough for Ning Jiuwei to hear the soft slide of Su Jinglan’s throat. Ning Jiuwei gave her a push. Su Jinglan didn’t brace herself and thudded back against the Entryway Cabinet.

Right at the waist.

Su Jinglan drew in a soft hiss, though her gentle smile never wavered. Ning Jiuwei’s heart twisted—just as she started to voice her concern, Su Jinglan reached back to rub her lower back and fixed her with an accusing look. “You hurt my waist.”

Ning Jiuwei: “…” She’d done it, sure, but was Su Jinglan’s waist really that delicate?

Su Jinglan propped herself against the Entryway Cabinet, looking every bit the fragile damsel who could barely stand.

The phone stopped ringing, only for the doorbell to chime again. Wen Wanyuan pressed her ear to the door, listening carefully to the sounds from inside. She pressed the intercom button and leaned down to speak into it. “Ah Mu, I know you’re home.”

Su Jinglan recognized the voice outside. Clutching her waist, she grabbed Ning Jiuwei’s arm and said to her, “Can you help me over to the sofa? It hurts so much.”

Ning Jiuwei had the distinct feeling she’d been roped into something.

She helped Su Jinglan to the sofa, but Su Jinglan didn’t sit. Instead, she kept rubbing her waist. “Designer Ning, why don’t you go open the door for Miss Wen? I can manage on my own.”

Only then did Ning Jiuwei remember there was someone waiting outside.

Of all the times to show up, she had to pick now.

Ning Jiuwei gripped Su Jinglan’s forearm—not too hard, not too soft through the fabric of her clothes—and without a word, led her into the study.

The study had a sofa too, spacious and soft, exceedingly comfortable.

Su Jinglan settled onto it. Ning Jiuwei grabbed her phone, made sure the study door was securely shut, and went to let Wen Wanyuan in.

“I knew you were home.” Wen Wanyuan was brimming with enthusiasm, forgetting herself as she moved to pull Ning Jiuwei into a close embrace.

Her arms had barely opened when Ning Jiuwei pressed them back down. “I’m in my pajamas.”

Wen Wanyuan obediently withdrew her hands and grinned with a playful complaint. “Why’d it take you so long to let me in?”

“I was working on design drawings.” Ning Jiuwei stayed planted in the entryway, her expression clearly saying that whatever it was, she could say it right here.

Designers could be sketching at any hour, so Wen Wanyuan thought nothing of it and started heading inside with easy familiarity. “I brought my tablet. Let’s work on them together.”

Ning Jiuwei caught her arm. “I prefer to draw alone.”

Wen Wanyuan let out a soft sigh. “All right.” Her gaze fell on the box of sweets atop the entryway cabinet, and she let out a puzzled hum. “Didn’t you say you don’t eat sweets? Why’d you buy butterfly pastries?”

“Someone gave them to me.” Ning Jiuwei didn’t betray a hint of panic. She picked up the entire box of butterfly pastries and shoved it into Wen Wanyuan’s hands. “Take them home and eat them.”

“Sure thing.” Wen Wanyuan hugged the box and turned to leave, only to remember why she’d come in the first place. How could she just go now? “I haven’t even gotten to the main reason I’m here. Why are you rushing me out?”

“WeChat for anything important.” Ning Jiuwei slipped into work mode. “I need to get back to my design drawings.”

“You can draw after I tell you. What I need to say has to be in person.” Wen Wanyuan cut straight to the chase. “Clear a few hours for me tomorrow night. Help me fend off my parents.”

Su Jinglan quietly cracked open the study door, listening to their conversation through the gap.

“Fend them off how?” Ning Jiuwei was baffled. What could possibly require her help with that?

Wen Wanyuan kept walking into the living room as she explained, popping open the box and picking out a butterfly pastry to pop into her mouth. “They’re on my case about marriage again. We pretend to be dating, and that’ll get me through this year.”

“I can’t help with that.” Ning Jiuwei had her principles. She could lie about plenty of things, but not about relationships to parents. “Miss Wen, find someone else.”

The moment Ning Jiuwei called her “Miss Wen,” Wen Wanyuan knew she was in trouble. “I want to, but no one else can fool my parents. They ask a few questions, and anyone else cracks. But you, Ah Mu—you pretend to be my girlfriend, and they won’t grill you.”

“I don’t lie.” Ning Jiuwei snapped the box shut. “Take your butterfly pastries and head home. Eat them slowly there.”

“Sister Ning, my dear Sister Ning, please help me out.” Wen Wanyuan tugged at Ning Jiuwei’s clothes.

Ning Jiuwei glanced at her hand, and Wen Wanyuan immediately let go. “This hand’s clean.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Ning Jiuwei remained unmoved as she saw Wen Wanyuan to the door—and out of her home.

The apartment fell quiet, as if she were alone again. Ning Jiuwei paused outside the study door for a moment before turning the handle.

Su Jinglan was lounging against the sofa armrest, her hand propping up the side of her face. She met Ning Jiuwei’s gaze with a gentle smile. “Miss Wen’s gone?”

“Yeah.” Ning Jiuwei shot the question back at Su Jinglan. “When’s President Su leaving?”

“My back’s hurt. Might have to crash here tonight.” Su Jinglan glanced down at the sofa beneath her. A sofa wasn’t for sleeping. “Guest room or master bedroom—either’s fine.”

“If memory serves, President Su’s place is right across the hall.” Just a few steps away—no need to stay here.

Everything in the rooms had been tidied up. The bedroom linens needed a quick wash, so Lin Zhaoyue pulled out the freshly laundered sheets and duvet covers, tossed them into the upgraded dryer, and set it running. By the time they were dry and fitted to the duvet inserts, President Su would be set for the night.

The high-efficiency dryer hummed along. Lin Zhaoyue peeked out the door at the situation across the hall. Everything would be ready well before President Su returned.

Su Jinglan chuckled. “Can’t stay over there tonight.” She rubbed her waist and turned to Ning Jiuwei. “Designer Ning, could you help me take a bath? The sooner I lie down, the better.”

From the tone of her words, it was clear she had decided to stay here, leaving no room for argument.

Ning Jiuwei stood motionless by the door while Su Jinglan smiled warmly, patiently waiting for her to come over.

The atmosphere grew subtly ambiguous in their intersecting gazes. Su Jinglan’s heart pounded like a drum. Amid her longing, she held herself with poised restraint, controlling her voice as she called out to Ning Jiuwei. “Designer Ning.”

Ning Jiuwei walked over slowly. “Can President Su’s waist really not withstand a bump like that?”

“Would Designer Ning kindly check if it’s bruised?” Su Jinglan shifted her position, propping herself against the sofa back and facing away from Ning Jiuwei.

The back offered little defense. An attack from behind left Su Jinglan utterly defenseless. Ning Jiuwei’s gaze fell on the back of her head—the spot that couldn’t withstand heavy blows—then slowly traced along the scattered strands of hair over her spine, down to her slender waist.

Ning Jiuwei held her breath and extended her hand to Su Jinglan. “There’s a mirror in the bathroom, President Su. You can look for yourself.”

She helped Su Jinglan to the bathroom in the master bedroom.

Su Jinglan acted completely at ease. Right in front of Ning Jiuwei, she made as if to undo her buttons and lift her shirt. Ning Jiuwei’s heart raced uncontrollably. Unable to bear it, she averted her gaze and turned to leave.

Su Jinglan wasn’t afraid of being seen by Ning Jiuwei. On the contrary, she anticipated it. Smiling, she undid all the buttons, slipped off her shirt, and turned her back to the mirror, glancing over her shoulder.

Her flawless waist bore no trace of bruising whatsoever.

How could her waist not withstand a bump? Her waist had to be fine.

Realizing Su Jinglan had no pajamas and worrying she might emerge wearing nothing at all, Ning Jiuwei turned back. “Su…”

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