Fang Xun’s brain short-circuited entirely!
She’s already got her in her arms?!
And she’s taking her home, and asking where Ji Xiunian lives!
Seeing no reaction, Zhou Lang rose, arm still around Ji Xiunian. “Professor Ji has had too much. I’ll take her home. Do you know where she lives?”
Hao Shuyou’s expression didn’t ripple, but his eyes held inquiry. “Zhou Lang, are you up to it? You’ve been drinking too.”
Zhou Lang nodded. “I’m fine. I’ll call a designated driver.”
Fang Xun stood, holding Ji Xiunian’s bag. “I haven’t had anything to drink. I’ll take a cab and see Teacher Ji home.”
Zhou Lang’s tone was light enough to pass for a joke. “Don’t trust me that much? Afraid I’ll eat her up?”
Fang Xun: “…”
That was way too ambiguous…
But Teacher Ji had said before… there was nothing between her and Dean Zhou. And Teacher Ji was always helping her—she couldn’t just chicken out now: “Um… well…”
Zhou Lang saw her blushing herself into a panic and let her off. “Never mind. Can you drive?”
“I can, I can.”
“Then take my car, take her home, then drop me off. All right?”
Fang Xun sagged with relief and stepped forward. “Shall I give you a hand?”
Zhou Lang didn’t move; the arm around Ji Xiunian tightened a fraction.
Gao Qirui burst out laughing. “Teacher Little Fang, quit fretting. Relax—Dean Zhou, she…”
Treasures her!
“Director Gao,” Zhou Lang cut her off, “enjoy your meal. Take your time.”
Gao Qirui, too caught up in the show to remember Zhou Lang’s rumored temper, didn’t dare push further. “Of course, Dean Zhou. Safe travels.”
Zhou Lang ignored her and looked down at Ji Xiunian. “Can you walk?”
…Would she need to carry her out?
Ji Xiunian still had a thread of consciousness; hearing the voice, she nodded.
Only after several seconds did Zhou Lang release her. Fang Xun hurried to take over, following them out.
A black Bentley waited at the curb.
Ji Xiunian swayed as she walked, Fang Xun supporting her, unable to hold back a grumble. “Director Gao, honestly—insisting on that toast…”
Halfway through, she remembered the toast’s target was right there and shut her mouth fast.
Bag in one hand, supporting a grown woman with the other, Fang Xun was all thumbs. “D-Dean Zhou, could you give me a hand?”
How strange… She wouldn’t let go of her a minute ago, and now she just stands there watching.
Zhou Lang gave an “mm,” opened the car door, and eased Ji Xiunian in. Once she was settled, asleep, she gazed at her, a little dazed. “Told you not to drink… There. Sleep a while. We’ll be home soon.”
Fang Xun didn’t catch the words, but the tenderness, the preciousness in her tone, came through—and it stunned her a little.
Zhou Lang turned away quickly. “Thanks for your trouble.”
Fang Xun didn’t dare think further. “No trouble at all! Teacher Ji looks after me all the time—it’s the least I can do.”
Zhou Lang gave an “mm,” her tone offhand. “Professor Ji’s… husband—will he blame her for drinking herself into this state? Should you be thinking about how to explain this to her family?”
“Shouldn’t matter,” Fang Xun answered without thinking. “Teacher Ji’s single these days, I think. Where do you live? Let me see which route makes more sense.”
Single.
Zhou Lang said nothing.
Her fingers around the key fob clenched until they ached.
After a long moment, she finally found her voice, handing over the car keys. “Don’t worry about me yet. Where’s your home?”
No hurry. There would be time to confirm.
“Close to Teacher Ji’s—ten minutes on foot.”
“All right, drive. Have you been to her place?”
Zhou Lang rounded the car and got in on the other side, in the back.
Fang Xun started the engine. “I have—delivered documents to Teacher Ji on the weekend. It’s over on Chuntang Road.”
“Chuntang Road,” Zhou Lang repeated softly, her deep gaze resting on the drunken woman. “Understood.”
Not long after they set off, Zhou Lang’s phone vibrated.
She answered. “Yining. What is it?”
The voice on the other end was calm and level. “Song Qi was recently transferred to serve as a secretary in Ji Changhong’s office—highly favored. He’s gotten word there’s a project…”
“I can’t really talk right now.” Zhou Lang glanced at Ji Xiunian from the corner of her eye. “This isn’t urgent. We’ll discuss it later.”
Xue Yining asked, hesitant. “You’re not going soft, are you?”
Zhou Lang’s voice was cold. “You’re imagining things.”
She hung up at once.
Fang Xun had caught a snippet without understanding any of it, and pretended she’d heard nothing.
She drove very steadily—steadily to the point of slow.
She didn’t take Zhou Lang for a patient woman, yet the whole way, Zhou Lang never once rushed her.
More than that—she didn’t say a single word, and the silence was embarrassing.
Once or twice, Fang Xun sneaked a look in the rearview mirror and found Zhou Lang looking off to the side, her gaze faint.
Then her eyes traveled down—to her hands on her knees, clasped tight, whether in tension or fury, looking like someone enduring to the very limit.
Fang Xun jumped and stamped the accelerator, speeding up at once.
Zhou Lang was watching Ji Xiunian.
She lolled against the window, deep asleep; every jolt of the car knocked her forehead against the glass.
Before long, a red patch bloomed on her fair forehead.
Just as the car accelerated, she was about to slam into the window harder—Zhou Lang spoke. “Stop the car!”
Fang Xun hit the brakes. “D-Dean Zhou? What’s wrong?”
Zhou Lang paused several seconds before saying, “Would you run into that convenience store and buy two yogurts?”
“Um, I don’t think there’s a store around here…”
“Across the road. Over the footbridge.”
“Oh, I see it. Iced ones?”
“Room temperature. Yogurt helps with the alcohol.”
“Got it. Going now.”
Fang Xun hopped out quickly.
Over the footbridge and across the road—the round trip would take a while.
For the moment, only the two of them remained in the car.
Zhou Lang sighed without a sound.
Carefully, she leaned toward Ji Xiunian, confirming she hadn’t woken, before reaching out—one hand cradling the back of her neck, the other holding her left arm—and shifting her, settling her into a new position.
—Next time she swayed… she’d sway into her instead.
Zhou Lang withdrew her hand quickly, but her gaze refused to be withdrawn.
She leaned half over her, watching.
Such long lashes.
So beautiful.
When had she last been this close to her face?
…Sixteen years.
Thoughts came swarming, and she simply watched her, quiet and still.
She had always preferred Ji Xiunian asleep.
A sleeping beauty, silent and still.
Not coldly distant, not saying “that’s none of your business”—even her smiles… were warm and remote.
Watching too long, Zhou Lang began to drift.
Instinctively she leaned closer; that refined, lovely face swelled rapidly in her vision, her breath faintly wine-sweet yet still clean and light, falling against her cheek. Her gaze sank lower, to the lips still holding a trace of flush.
The dome light was on, the glow dim and blurred.
Beneath it, her sleeping beauty had skin like white porcelain, exquisite brows, dense fine lashes, long even breathing.
The fingers that had rested on the seat clenched hard—yet she didn’t move—while her face drew closer and closer.
Her heartbeat raced madly, clamoring, shrieking, demanding confirmation of some answer.
And then the long, thick lashes fluttered several times, like butterfly wings skimming water. The drunk woman’s eyes were clear but unfocused, her voice slow: “What… what are you doing?”
Zhou Lang went rigid.
Her first instinct was to bolt upright—but reason said: don’t move. Don’t act guilty.
She held still for several seconds, deliberately drawing out her tone. “What are you so tense for… Don’t tell me you thought I was going to kiss you?”
