~~~
Either Su Jinglan was sick, or she herself was sick—one of them had to have something wrong with her brain for them to end up sleeping together.
Having confirmed she was perfectly fine, Ning Jiuwei fell silent. She simply watched Su Jinglan with eyes brimming with distant chill.
Su Jinglan curved her lips into a smile and drew closer, meeting Ning Jiuwei’s gaze. They were so near now that with one beckoning motion of her hand, she could pull the other woman into her arms.
“Designer Ning, I’m not comfortable leaving you alone,” she said. “You’re the backbone of our Design Department. You’re incredibly important—to me, and to the entire team.” Before she could find a way into Ning Jiuwei’s heart, Su Jinglan knew her place. For now, she had to hide behind the shield of her position as boss.
Those in power always put their interests first, and Su Jinglan’s reasoning sounded perfectly logical. Yet unease churned in Ning Jiuwei’s chest, making it impossible for her to convince herself. “Even so, there’s no need for us to sleep together.”
Their rooms were right across from each other. If anything happened, a quick call or message would bring help in seconds.
Su Jinglan’s expression remained utterly earnest. “It’s better if we sleep together. What if I come down with a fever tonight? You could catch it right away, Designer Ning.”
“How could President Su possibly get a fever?” After all, Su Jinglan hadn’t taken a cold shower.
“My constitution is delicate. I’m prone to catching things.” Su Jinglan spouted the nonsense with a straight face. “Teacher Ning hugged and nuzzled me all last night. Tonight, it might be my turn. What if I get delirious with fever and can’t even make a call? Surely Teacher Ning wouldn’t just stand by and let me suffer.”
It was pure fabrication, a blatant frame job. Ning Jiuwei could only inwardly curse herself for dialing the wrong number last night and owing Su Jinglan this debt.
She clenched her fist, digging her nails into her palm as an internal war raged—one voice urging her to refuse outright, the other coaxing her to give in.
The woman before her offered no further push. Instead, Su Jinglan retreated strategically. “Since Designer Ning isn’t keen on it, I won’t insist.”
The word “yes” had been dancing on the tip of Ning Jiuwei’s tongue. Hearing Su Jinglan back off brought a secret wave of relief.
But that relief came too soon. Su Jinglan glanced toward the beauty couch by the window. “In that case, I’ll sleep on this couch tonight. Not the bed.”
The beauty couch had been meticulously designed according to ergonomic principles—soft, comfortable for lounging or reclining, with a view of the vast, star-studded night sky beyond the window. Even a full night’s sleep there wouldn’t leave anyone with a sore back.
Ning Jiuwei eyed the beauty couch and finally relented, allowing Su Jinglan to share the bed.
The bed and pillows they could share. The quilt? Absolutely not.
“President Su can take the bed,” she said. “I’ll have the hotel send up an extra quilt.” Ning Jiuwei dialed room service and informed the front desk they needed one.
The hotel staff had seen their share of couples, but a pair who still felt cold sharing a bed? That was a first. True to their five-star commitment to unparalleled service, they delivered a fresh quilt to Ning Jiuwei’s room within minutes of hanging up.
Sleeping in a shirt wasn’t comfortable—especially with a bra digging in. Su Jinglan slipped back to her own room for a set of pajamas, then showered in Ning Jiuwei’s bathroom.
Steam from the hot water beaded on the glass door, tracing every point of contact. Ning Jiuwei stood under the shower, staring at the handprint on the glass. Her heart suddenly pounded faster.
She couldn’t help imagining the scenario: Su Jinglan, bracing one hand against the glass.
Stop it. Don’t think like that.
Ning Jiuwei shoved the stray thought aside and wiped away the mark.
Warm water cascaded over her skin, washing away last night’s fever like a fading dream. She turned to face the cold tile wall, propping a hand against it and letting out a heavy sigh masked by the rush of the spray.
She swept her soaked hair back from her face, then twisted to eye the handprint on the glass wall beside her. With a swipe of her hand, she erased it.
She didn’t linger in the bathroom that night. Ten minutes later, she emerged—body dried, dressed in modest two-piece pajamas—and strode out of the bathroom without a flicker of expression.
Su Jinglan reclined against the headboard of the spacious, plush king bed, tablet in hand. Her serene features radiated an aloof intensity. Footsteps drew her from her work; she lifted her eyes from the screen and met Ning Jiuwei’s with a gentle smile.
The two-meter-wide bed made it easy to avoid contact. Yet in her clear-headed state, Ning Jiuwei felt hemmed in. She approached her side, flipped back the covers, and sat with her back to the room.
A soft rustle approached from behind. Ning Jiuwei glanced over her shoulder to find Su Jinglan had shifted, now occupying her spot.
“You sleep over there,” Su Jinglan said, nodding toward the place she’d just vacated. The quilt bore no names; they hadn’t agreed on sides before climbing in. With Su Jinglan suddenly claiming this one, Ning Jiuwei had no retort.
She rose, smoothed the quilt back into place without any intimate tucking of edges, and declined to clamber over Su Jinglan’s body. Slippers on, she circled the bed and climbed in from the far side.
The bed still retained the lingering warmth of Su Jinglan’s body, and the covers were filled with her scent. Even though they used the same body wash and shampoo, Ning Jiuwei could still pick out the unique fragrance that belonged solely to Su Jinglan amid that familiar aroma.
She leaned against the headboard in the same position as Su Jinglan. The heat from their bodies was just right, enveloping her form without a hint of the sheets’ chill.
Ning Jiuwei turned her head onto the soft pillow, her gaze quietly settling on the woman beside her.
Had Su Jinglan just switched places with her so she could have the warm side of the bed?
Unable to voice the question bubbling in her heart, Ning Jiuwei settled on a neutral topic that skirted around emotions. In the hushed hotel room, thick with an ambiguous tension, she asked, “How many days is President Su on this business trip for?”
“Three or four days. Exactly how long we stay here will depend on the situation,” Su Jinglan replied, leaving herself some leeway without committing. She shifted her position, cradling the tablet in her left hand. From its top edge, she retrieved the magnetic stylus and opened a quick handwritten memo.
The stylus’s script couldn’t hold a candle to a fountain pen, but Ning Jiuwei’s eyes were drawn to those slender, elegant fingers. The way Su Jinglan gripped the pen reminded her of the design drawing she had created.
That design drawing pulsed with fervent emotion, infused with its creator’s deepest feelings—a silent confession poured out through every line.
Compared to Su Jinglan’s masterpiece, her own felt like a riot of colorful blooms overshadowed by a majestic peony, instantly losing its splendor.
A soft chuckle suddenly sounded near her ear. Ning Jiuwei looked up to find Su Jinglan, still focused on the tablet, smiling uncontrollably. “Is Designer Ning interested in my hand?” she asked.
She held it out toward Ning Jiuwei, her gentle gaze brimming with amusement and something deeper. “Planning to design a ring based on my fingers?”
She had been so intently preparing for tomorrow’s work—how had she even noticed? With the hand now right in front of her, Ning Jiuwei steadied her nerves, took it without ceremony, and examined it with professional detachment.
Su Jinglan’s palm ran a touch warmer than average. As Ning Jiuwei made contact, she felt the chill of her own fingertips in stark contrast.
Her own fingertips traced the joints from tip to base. Ning Jiuwei pushed all distractions aside, like a fortune-teller divining from bones, gently pinching inch by inch.
Su Jinglan’s fingers were fair and slender, with clearly defined knuckles. The tips were delicate, and the girth at the base wasn’t much thicker. By standard measurements, she took a size 12 ring.
Ning Jiuwei’s intense focus made Su Jinglan hold her breath against the heat rising within her. She endured the waves of tingling numbness sparked by their skin’s touch, reining in the impulse to draw closer. Step by step, she suppressed those insatiable desires with sheer willpower.
She regretted teasing Ning Jiuwei.
Releasing the hand, Ning Jiuwei offered a single assessment. “Miss Shen’s fingers are shorter than President Su’s—and thinner, too.”
The words had barely left her mouth when Su Jinglan burst out laughing.
“I’ll have to tell Lanyan that,” she said, unable to quell her curving lips. She felt an urge to message Shen Lanyan right then and there.
“President Su.” Ning Jiuwei uttered only the title, but Su Jinglan caught her meaning and smiled. “All right, I won’t tell her.”
It was their private little secret, not for outsiders’ ears.
Realization hit Ning Jiuwei belatedly. The thoughts she had banished came rushing back, encircling her completely.
Suffocation and dizziness struck in tandem. Ning Jiuwei clenched her fist discreetly, tamping down the turmoil, and steadied her breathing with a slow exhale. “President Su, I’m going to sleep now.”
With a polite goodnight, she switched off the bedside lamp on her side, rolled over, and lay down. Subtly, she tucked the blanket corner beneath her.
The security of the pinned covers wasn’t enough. Ning Jiuwei kept her mind sharp in secret, eyes closed as she clutched the fabric, mentally sketching design drawings.
She wouldn’t sleep—not while Su Jinglan was still awake. Absolutely not.
Only the lamp on Su Jinglan’s side remained lit in the room. Its orange glow fell across the tablet, useless for her distracted reading. If anything, it only drew her thoughts more insistently toward Ning Jiuwei.
With Ning Jiuwei’s back turned in sleep, Su Jinglan gazed at her without restraint. The lingering tingle in her hand refused to fade, as if it had seeped through skin into bloodstream and bone. Her heart thudded wildly, the unquenched longing stretching out, filling every corner of her mind.
She wanted to pull Ning Jiuwei into her arms, hold her close to sleep just like the night before.
In the room’s silence, her heartbeat seemed to boom, fostering an illusion of exposure. Su Jinglan didn’t want Ning Jiuwei to glimpse those irreverent, intrusive thoughts. She tore her eyes away, forcing her focus back to the tablet and wielding the chill impersonality of work against the blaze of her emotions.
Gradually, her breathing evened out. Her racing pulse settled to normal.
The tablet’s page hadn’t advanced a single line. Su Jinglan quietly set it on the nightstand, switched off the final lamp, and lay down with careful gentleness.
Two quilts separated their body heat. Su Jinglan lay on her side facing Ning Jiuwei, her eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness in the pitch-black room. She gazed at the indistinct raised outline before her, sleep utterly eluding her.
A scorching gaze fell on the back of her head. Ning Jiuwei sensed it and tensed up unnaturally.
When sight failed, hearing grew sharper. Ning Jiuwei suppressed her breathing to a steady, sleeping rhythm while her senses strained in the darkness, attuned to the other’s every movement and missing no subtle sound.
No footsteps approached from behind. Su Jinglan’s breaths reached her ears clearly amid the staring vigil. Ning Jiuwei had no idea what Su Jinglan was like once asleep—relying only on that brief morning glimpse, she dared not lower her guard just yet.
Guard against what?
Ning Jiuwei suddenly froze.
Whatever Su Jinglan had wanted to do, she had already done it last night. There was no need to wait until tonight.
Realizing her vigilance was pointless, Ning Jiuwei loosened her quilt and rolled over.
Now they lay face-to-face.
Something felt wrong. Ning Jiuwei wanted to roll back but worried she might wake Su Jinglan, so she held the position for now.
Su Jinglan’s voice sounded right in front of her, laced with obvious hoarseness. “Can’t sleep?”
So Su Jinglan wasn’t asleep after all.
Ning Jiuwei lay motionless, feigning sleep and offering no reply.
Seeming convinced she was awake, Su Jinglan continued on her own. “Jiuwei, have you ever had a crush on someone?”
~~~
