Chapter 51

Their gazes locked, growing hotter with every passing second. Ning Jiuwei’s emotions surged, her heart pounding like a drum. She wanted to push Su Jinglan away, but the impulse never materialized into action. Helplessly, she watched as Su Jinglan inched closer.

The searing body heat ignited a tingling wave of desire. Su Jinglan was all too aware of her own craving. Her eyes, glued to Ning Jiuwei’s, flicked down to her lips. Teetering on the brink of forbidden territory, she reined herself in with sheer willpower.

“Designer Ning might be willing, but I’m not.”

The atmosphere had screamed of an impending kiss. Realizing she’d been toyed with, Ning Jiuwei wrenched her hand free and shoved Su Jinglan away.

Su Jinglan collapsed weakly onto the bed, her presidential dignity nowhere in sight as she lodged her complaint. “Designer Ning, you just made my back hurt even worse. You’ll have to take proper responsibility—not just tonight, but the whole next week. I’ll be sleeping here.”

Ning Jiuwei ignored her, yanking at the blanket draped over her body and scooping up her phone to keep messaging.

In that brief interval, Wen Wanyuan had fired off a barrage of texts, complete with an assortment of soft, adorable emojis—like a real girlfriend playfully whining at her beloved.

“If you don’t say no, I’ll assume Designer Ning agrees.” Su Jinglan’s phone buzzed as well, the vibration cutting sharply through the quiet from the bedside table. She glanced at it; the message was from Lin Zhaoyue, confirming the bed was ready.

Ning Jiuwei parted her lips, but her thundering heartbeat tangled her breath and words. Terrified Su Jinglan might pick up on the anomaly, she held her silence.

Buoyed by her good spirits, Su Jinglan grinned as she texted Lin Zhaoyue back: Nothing else—head home.

This apartment was downright tiny compared to the place in Fenglinwu Community. Lin Zhaoyue gave the whole space a thorough check to ensure nothing was amiss before departing.

“Where’s the president?” Lin Zhaoyue bumped into Lin Fengmian emerging from the elevator right at the door. Her first question flew out: “Has she turned in for the night?”

“She should have.”

Should have? Lin Fengmian scowled at the vague reply. She sidestepped Lin Zhaoyue and approached the door to knock, only to pull her hand back at the last instant.

She turned to Lin Zhaoyue. “What’s the door code?”

The smart lock offered four entry methods: passcode, fingerprint, card swipe, or mechanical key, with the first three combinable for added security. Lin Zhaoyue strolled over with an amused smile and unlocked it using her fingerprint.

“Where’s the bedroom?” It was Lin Fengmian’s first time in the apartment, and she had no clue about the layout. Ever the helpful beauty, Lin Zhaoyue guided her to the Master Bedroom door. “Does Assistant Lin need President Su for something?”

“A secret.” Clutching the bag in her grip, Lin Fengmian rapped lightly on the door. “President Su, are you asleep?”

Lin Zhaoyue stifled a laugh. “President Su isn’t in there. If it’s important, just text her.” She eyed the bag. “If that’s stuff for President Su, go ahead and leave it inside. She’ll spot it when she returns.”

“Returns?” Lin Fengmian frowned in confusion. “Where’d President Su go?”

Lin Zhaoyue lobbed the words right back. “A secret.”

Fine, keep your secrets. Lin Fengmian stepped inside to drop off the items.

Lin Zhaoyue lingered in the doorway, waiting for her to finish so they could leave together.

In the elevator, Lin Fengmian shot off a message to the president. Su Jinglan saw it but didn’t respond, silencing the vibration alert before sliding the phone back onto the bedside table.

Ning Jiuwei was deep in her chat with Wen Wanyuan, her slender, elegant fingers dancing across the screen. Her serene expression betrayed nothing of their conversation—whether they were still hashing out the fake romance to dodge family pressure on marriage.

Spotting Ning Jiuwei so utterly engrossed, Su Jinglan tucked one arm behind her head for a pillow. Her other hand, concealed beneath the covers, wormed its way through barriers, delving under Ning Jiuwei’s blanket to snag the hem of her clothes.

Ning Jiuwei had been vigilantly tracking Su Jinglan’s every move, steeling herself the instant that hand slithered in. Su Jinglan tugged lightly at the fabric, her voice soft with feigned drowsiness. “Hasn’t Designer Ning wrapped up her chat yet?”

“Almost.” On guard against Su Jinglan, Ning Jiuwei was blindsided by the sudden video call request. Her fingertip grazed the screen, and its hair-trigger sensitivity connected the call automatically.

Ning Jiuwei: “……”

Texting couldn’t quench Wen Wanyuan’s thirst. On a whim, she dialed Ning Jiuwei for video, figuring it never hurt to try. And sometimes, trying paid off with delightful surprises—like this one.

“Ah Mu!” Wen Wanyuan sported a cute cartoon T-shirt that clashed wildly with her public image as a cutting-edge designer. Her long hair cascaded messily over her shoulders in all its fluffy, unpolished glory, presenting her truest self to Ning Jiuwei. “You actually answered the video!”

“I bumped it by accident.” With her hem pinned under the blanket and Wen Wanyuan’s face filling the screen, Ning Jiuwei felt a guilty twinge, like she was caught in an illicit affair. “I’m hanging up.”

“Hey, hey, hey—don’t!” Wen Wanyuan begged. “It’s so rare to video with my good sister. Sister Ning, please don’t hang up~”

Ning Jiuwei glanced toward the pillow. The camera’s range was limited, so Wen Wanyuan couldn’t see Su Jinglan. But Wen Wanyuan was perceptive and caught the flicker in Ning Jiuwei’s gaze. She teased, “What, has Sister Ning got a secret lover hidden away in her golden house? Too shy to let me see on video?”

“No.” Ning Jiuwei stared at her phone screen, feeling Su Jinglan’s hand growing bolder. The woman’s fingertips tugged at the hem of her shirt and lightly traced her side waist. Ning Jiuwei gripped the phone with one hand while the other slipped under the covers to seize the restless Su Jinglan. Her expression remained calm and unruffled as she changed the subject. “We’ve already said everything that needs saying on WeChat.”

Su Jinglan loved the feeling of Ning Jiuwei’s strong, nimble fingers holding her in place. She grinned up at her, savoring the warmth of her body and the textured touch of her palm and fingertips.

Su Jinglan went still, as obedient as a kitten caught by the scruff of its neck. Ning Jiuwei didn’t dare let go, afraid she’d start groping again the moment she did.

She endured the ticklish sensation creeping up her waist and listened to Wen Wanyuan’s nonsense over the video.

“Ah Mu, you’re really the perfect girlfriend candidate. You’re single anyway, so dating me wouldn’t cause any drama. If you had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t even ask. Plus, my parents like you. If they knew you were my girlfriend, they wouldn’t break us up or force me into blind dates.”

“You’re right,” Ning Jiuwei said unexpectedly, once Wen Wanyuan had finished.

Su Jinglan’s heart clenched. The gentle smile vanished from her face. Wen Wanyuan beamed, sitting up straight in delight. “You agree?”

Ning Jiuwei didn’t bat an eye. “No.”

“Then why’d you say I was right!” Wen Wanyuan flopped sideways onto the bed, hugging a plump pillow and feigning heartbreak. “Can’t you just have one meal with me? Or I’ll cry right here for you to see.”

“If you cry, I’ll record it.” Ning Jiuwei smiled faintly.

Wen Wanyuan pouted, on the verge of tears. “I’m really gonna cry, you know? Then you’d have to come over in the middle of the night to coax me.”

“If Miss Wen can actually cry, I’ll come coax you.” Ning Jiuwei knew Wen Wanyuan too well—she was the type who wouldn’t shed a tear for anyone.

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the hand in her grasp slipped free. Su Jinglan pulled back and rolled over, turning her back.

The soft rustle of sheets against skin was faint but distinct in the quiet bedroom. It carried clearly to the other end of the video, but Wen Wanyuan didn’t suspect a thing. Ning Jiuwei lived alone, solitary in the world. There couldn’t possibly be anyone else at home, let alone in her bed late at night.

In this world, the only person who could ever share Ning Jiuwei’s bed was herself, Wen Wanyuan thought with absolute confidence.

“I’ll come right to your door and cry on your bed.” The night lent itself to reckless words. Wen Wanyuan grew bold and unrestrained. “It all depends on whether Sister Ning can make me cry all night without stopping.”

“…” Ning Jiuwei caught the innuendo. “I’m going to sleep.”

She ended the video call, cutting off any chance for more of Wen Wanyuan’s impropriety.

Wen Wanyuan promptly sent a message with restaurant details—the location and time for dinner tomorrow night.

“Ah Mu, come over tomorrow night for dinner. No need to pretend we’re dating—just come as my good friend. You’re single, I’m single. My parents won’t have the heart to call me out for being a lonely dog.”

Ning Jiuwei’s gaze fell on the woman beside her pillow. Strands of hair lay in disarray, mirroring her current mood. The video had ended, and Su Jinglan hadn’t said a word—not even a teasing remark. She lay silent, as if asleep.

Ning Jiuwei knew she wasn’t.

An urge welled up to speak to Su Jinglan. Her red lips parted, but she held back, turning her eyes back to the phone instead.

The screen dimmed from inactivity. Ning Jiuwei converted Wen Wanyuan’s voice message to text, read it through, and replied: We’ll talk tomorrow.

She ended the chat, switched her phone to sleep mode, and set it on the nightstand.

The bedside lamp cast a soft, dim glow over her, creating an illusion of fragile vulnerability. Ning Jiuwei lay quietly, watching Su Jinglan. After some internal deliberation, she dismissed the idea of explaining herself.

Whatever Su Jinglan had heard, whatever she was thinking—it didn’t warrant an explanation.

Ning Jiuwei turned off the bedside wall lamp and settled into bed.

In the pitch-black room, their breathing grew more pronounced. Ning Jiuwei wasn’t sleepy. She listened to the steady rhythm beside her—the unmistakable sound of Su Jinglan’s breath—and slowly tightened her grip on the hand she’d captured.

Su Jinglan opened her eyes, adjusting to the darkness. Ning Jiuwei and Wen Wanyuan were so close—close enough for risqué jokes, close enough to earn Ning Jiuwei’s affection.

Jealousy surged within her. But Su Jinglan had no right to dictate who Ning Jiuwei spoke to. She reined herself in, soothing her emotions in silence.

Her slowed breathing helped calm her. Su Jinglan closed her eyes again, feeling the warmth and breath of the woman beside her, letting sleep gradually take hold.

Ning Jiuwei rolled over, and Su Jinglan could feel her shift from lying flat on her back to curling onto her side, facing her.

Su Jinglan lay still, feigning sleep, and offered no response.

“Does your waist still hurt?” came a voice from behind her, deliberately hushed and laced with gentle concern.

Ning Jiuwei was taking the initiative to strike up a conversation, but Su Jinglan didn’t reply. Ning Jiuwei closed her eyes and fell silent.

After several long seconds, a soft rustling sounded from Su Jinglan’s side. She rolled over too, turning from back-to-back to face-to-face.

“If I say it does, what would Designer Ning do? Rub it for me?”

In the pitch-black night, it was impossible to see expressions—one had to rely entirely on tone to gauge mood. Su Jinglan’s voice was even and flat, leaving Ning Jiuwei unsure whether she was teasing or upset.

It was also a tricky question to answer.

Ning Jiuwei pondered for two seconds before arriving at the perfect response. “I don’t know how to massage.”

No matter if Su Jinglan was in pain or not, this ensured there would be no physical contact.

Su Jinglan let out a soft chuckle. She lifted the covers and slipped under Ning Jiuwei’s blanket, pressing close. “It still hurts.” She took Ning Jiuwei’s hand and guided it to the small of her back, her whisper brushing against her at point-blank range. “I can teach Designer Ning how to do it.”

~~~