Zhao Qingyu certainly had her share of little schemes.
A bit of wine could never truly knock her out.
It was merely one of her clever ploys.
She knew women were experts at putting on a facade, but men were no different.
She had tested Shen An with words and actions more times than she could count.
Each failed probe had only deepened her fondness for him.
So why not try once more? An unprecedented test—one where she was willing to pay the steepest price yet.
Yes, using herself as bait.
Not her money, her talents, or anything else of that sort.
It was a girl’s purest, most fundamental “weapon.”
But to be precise, this wasn’t some meticulously plotted scheme laced with malice. It wasn’t even truly a test.
Zhao Qingyu had no intention of leveraging her body for some underhanded goal. She despised such tactics.
If anything, it was less a test and more a natural seduction, born from the atmosphere reaching its peak and their relationship advancing to this intimate stage.
Much like how a girl might coquettishly whine to draw out more care and attention from her beloved.
All Zhao Qingyu wanted was to feign drunkenness and gauge his reaction.
Teasing described it better, perhaps.
Of course, even she wasn’t entirely confident.
What if Shen An truly gave in to his baser instincts and pinned her to the bed for a night of passion? How would she respond?
Disappointment?
Heartache?
Rage?
Or would she half-heartedly resist before yielding?
The possibilities flickered through her mind, but none felt quite right.
She couldn’t explain her strange trust in Shen An, either. Deep down, she believed he wouldn’t cross that line.
That inexplicable faith was precisely why she resorted to this ploy so naturally—why a sly, playful smirk tugged at her lips instead of a cold, calculating one.
And there was one particularly crucial reason.
By pretending to be drunk, she could rest in his room without a shred of awkwardness.
Yes, it neatly sidestepped the excuse she’d fretted over from the start.
The next morning, she could even turn the tables and righteously chew him out.
Hehe~
The thought made Zhao Qingyu’s smile bloom even brighter. She felt immensely pleased with her own ingenuity.
But…
Zhao Qingyu rolled her eyes inwardly. Couldn’t this bastard be a little gentler? Didn’t he realize she’d just downed some drinks?
This fireman’s carry was murder on her stomach. Every step sent a jab straight into her gut.
She could handle it on a normal day, but after drinking, her belly already felt bloated.
The prodding made nausea bubble up inside her.
And this knife-handed jerk deliberately jostled her, slamming her stomach once more…
Couldn’t he try a different method? A princess carry? He wasn’t lacking in strength!
Zhao Qingyu fumed silently, her small hands balling into fists from his rough handling.
Fortunately, the living room was just a few steps from the bedroom. Shen An soon shouldered her inside and unceremoniously dumped her onto the bed.
Zhao Qingyu nearly wept with relief, rolling drunkenly to her side in her feigned stupor.
A few more bumps, and she wouldn’t have been able to keep up the act.
“Hoo~”
Shen An clapped his hands and muttered, “So damn heavy.”
Zhao Qingyu: ?
Her just-relaxed fists clenched anew.
“Tch, sleeping like that? Her back’s gonna ache tomorrow for sure.”
Shen An kept muttering as he climbed onto the bed and pinned down her small hands.
Zhao Qingyu hurriedly unclenched them, squeezing her eyes shut and letting a drunken haze settle over her features.
Shen An caught the motion out of the corner of his eye. He froze for a moment, then chuckled softly to himself.
Looked like he’d guessed right.
Zhao Fox lived up to her name.
But…
Shen An’s mind raced. As the saying went, an enemy’s advance could become your own offense—it all depended on how you played it.
He feigned ignorance, declining to call out her drunken pretense.
Instead, he solicitously shifted her from her side onto her back, lifted her small hand, and gently placed it on her stomach.
He grabbed the nearby blanket and tucked her in tenderly. “Make do for the night. Don’t complain.”
Shen An murmured under his breath, “Hope she doesn’t wanna murder me come morning.”
Heh~
Zhao Qingyu overheard his grumbling and thought, Am I really that fussy? A bed’s a bed.
But moments later, suspicion crept in.
She hadn’t opened her eyes, but she keenly sensed the bed’s weight was off.
He… he was still on it. He hadn’t left.
So…
What was he doing?
Deprived of sight, Zhao Qingyu could only guess amid the suffocating quiet, her heartbeat stuttering into chaos.
Panic mingled with a hint of anticipation.
What on earth was he up to?
Was he planning to lie down beside her?
And if he did, what then?
Her mind spun in turmoil.
In truth, Shen An was doing nothing at all. He simply watched her, admiring her “sleeping” facade.
Whether by design or impulse, he reached out and lightly brushed her cheek.
Zhao Qingyu reacted with startling sensitivity. Her body jolted as if startled.
Yet she kept her eyes firmly shut, swiftly morphing the tremor into drunken restlessness. She twisted away to one side.
Shen An let out a helpless chuckle and pressed her shoulder down, coaxing her back to a proper supine position.
“Always rolling onto your side. Afraid of waking up with a crick in your neck?”
He toyed with her silky hair, muttering softly.
Beneath the covers, Zhao Qingyu’s small hands twisted anxiously, her toes curling tight at the foot of the bed.
Then Shen An caressed her cheek again, his voice gentle. “You’re way cuter like this—asleep, I mean.”
“At least you don’t scowl at the drop of a hat.”
“No matter what I do, you won’t get mad. Ha~”
Zhao Qingyu sensed trouble brewing. Sure enough, her face soon fell victim to his “torments.”
A pinch here, a squeeze there—he treated her cheeks like putty, molding them at will as if they’d become his new toy.
For any ordinary drunk, this level of mischief would have roused them.
Unless they were dead to the world, completely unconscious, the chances of stirring—of reacting and cracking an eye open—were high.
But Shen An had read her perfectly. He knew she wouldn’t dare open her eyes, which emboldened him completely.
And Zhao Qingyu truly didn’t dare.
So she endured his brazen antics in seething, mortified silence.
Just you wait…
You’re dead meat! Absolutely dead!
She’d never endured such physical bullying in her life. Sure, he’d groped her earlier when she’d woken him, but he’d been half-asleep, and she’d startled him fair and square. Forgivable.
This time, though? He was wide awake and toying with her without restraint.
Unforgivable.
Absolutely unforgivable!!!
Under the blanket, her small hands balled into fists.
Shen An eventually reined himself in. He knew better than to push his luck—Zhao Qingyu’s patience had limits.
Piss her off too much, and she’d probably sock him one.
But after the teasing came the treat.
She was “drunk,” after all. Whatever he did, she wouldn’t remember… right?
A sly curve touched Shen An’s lips. He leaned down slowly toward her face and whispered, “Goodnight, Senior Sister.”
Warm breath ghosted her ear. Zhao Qingyu fought to stay still, but his tender tone melted her simmering anger in an instant.
Hmph~
Is that it?
she wondered.
Just as hesitation flickered through her, a faint, moist warmth brushed her forehead.
It felt like…
A…
Kiss?
Kiss?
KISS!!!!
Zhao Qingyu’s heart lurched. Her small hands clamped down on the sheets at her sides.
Shen An wiped his mouth, utterly satisfied, and slipped off the bed. He turned and left.
The door clicked shut softly.
Even so, Zhao Qingyu didn’t dare open her eyes right away.
Not until several minutes had passed did she snap them wide, her beautiful eyes gleaming with disbelief.
The room stood empty now, save for her on the bed.
She paid it no mind. Her hand flew straight to her forehead.
A trace of dampness lingered…
It really had been a kiss.
This…
Zhao Qingyu stared blankly at the ceiling for a long while before snapping back to herself.
He had kissed her forehead.
A goodnight farewell.
Yet she couldn’t recall the exact sensation of that moment…
The feel of his lips against her skin…
What had it been like?
She racked her brain, but the memory eluded her entirely.
It was all too sudden.
So sudden that her mind hadn’t even had time to register it.
Then, in a daze, she lifted the back of her hand and pressed her lips against it.
Was this the feeling?
How utterly ordinary… And yet, just moments ago, her heart had skipped a beat.
However…
Zhao Qingyu’s eyes narrowed, even as the corners of her mouth curved up ever so slightly.
Her fingertip trailed over her alluring lips as she murmured, “I thought your courage might run a little deeper.”
Just the forehead?
Tch.
That night, Zhao Qingyu found sleep to be an elusive quarry.
Every time she tried to roll onto her side, fragments of his earlier mumbling would drift into her thoughts, leaving her inexplicably flattened out on her back once more.
But she wasn’t accustomed to sleeping that way…
And this bed felt a touch too firm—no wonder she couldn’t settle in.
Yet perhaps these were merely excuses. Whenever she closed her eyes in pursuit of drowsiness, her mind would replay that moment over and over: him leaning in to kiss her forehead.
Tossing and turning, insomnia was all that awaited her.
Once he stepped out of the room, Shen An fell silent, though his arms and legs flailed about in wild, uncoordinated arcs.
He had finally achieved the goal he had pursued for an entire month: delivering a crushing victory over Zhao Qingyu.
It had been only the lightest of kisses, yet it marked the most crucial first step.
Because she hadn’t opened her eyes.
She hadn’t shown even the faintest hint of resistance.
She had been wide awake, of course—merely pretending to be drunk.
It was the clearest signal imaginable.
And Shen An hadn’t acted rashly. Since she was feigning intoxication, she would have to pretend she remembered nothing of it.
The moment she acknowledged it aloud, her careful pretense, her restraint, her pride—all of it would crumble to dust.
She would guard that secret even more fiercely than he ever could.
This was the true art of turning the enemy’s advance into his own momentum.
