Chapter 87: If You Want Me, I’m Willing

“Wen…” Before Chu Nian could say anything else, Wen Wan Ning had already supported Shen Jia Yan and walked toward the exit.

She could feel how intense Shen Jia Yan’s past feelings for Wen Wan Ning had been.

It wasn’t the fleeting flutter of a young girl; it was a love as deep and enduring as the tide, carrying a bone-etching warmth, that allowed her to write such a painful song.

When Wen Wan Ning reappeared in Shen Jia Yan’s world, she sensed her changes, her emotional fluctuations—her joys and sorrows all seemed linked to Wen Wan Ning.

At this moment, watching Wen Wan Ning support her as they walked to the car, even though she was so drunk she could barely stand, her fingertips still unconsciously hooked onto Wen Wan Ning’s sleeve cuff.

Chu Nian understood: the five years they hadn’t been in contact weren’t about forgetting; they were about sealing away.

Watching their perfectly matched backs, a little figure suddenly popped up in her heart, analyzing solemnly, “They will definitely end up together,” then happily spinning in circles, “Hurry up and ship this CP!”

Chu Nian amused herself into a good mood. After all, she loved shipping CPs the most.

She hurried after them with small steps, not wanting to miss this prime shipping opportunity.

Wen Wan Ning helped Shen Jia Yan into her own car, then turned to Chu Nian, who had just caught up. “You sit in the passenger seat. I’ll take care of Jia Yan in the back.”

“Okay, sure. Thanks for the trouble, Lawyer Wen.”

Wen Wan Ning smiled and nodded, then got into the car and sat beside Shen Jia Yan, letting her lean against her body. She softly told the driver, “Let’s go, to Long Lake International.”

On the road, she sent a message to Su Fang Yu: [Bro, sorry, I have something urgent to handle, so I left early. Next time, I’ll definitely treat you and Yu Chu to dinner.]

She quickly followed up: [You two will definitely be very happy. (Sending you a little heart.jpg)]

Moments later, she received Su Fang Yu’s reply: [What could be so important that you’d suddenly leave our proposal party? I think I saw you leaving with Shen Jia Yan. (Bad smile.jpg)]

Wen Wan Ning looked at her phone, her lips curving up slightly as she typed back: [Yeah, she drank too much. I’m taking her home.]

[As expected, something very important. (Bad smile.jpg Bad smile.jpg Bad smile.jpg)]

Before Wen Wan Ning could reply, Su Fang Yu sent another: [Go for it. Since you’ve met again, cherish it properly. Big brother hopes you can find your own happiness too.]

Wen Wan Ning locked her phone and set it aside.

She turned to look at Shen Jia Yan, carefully taking her hand and feeling her steady breathing and the slight warmth in her palm.

Outside the car window, the city’s lights flowed backward like a river of stars, reflecting in her serene eyes.

I hope I can bring you back…

Sitting in the passenger seat, Chu Nian secretly caught the scene through the rearview mirror. The little figure in her heart screamed, “These sneaky little moves, this gaze so tender it’s pulling taffy—too sweet!!!”

She bit her lower lip hard to keep from yelling “Aaaah!”

This CP, she was shipping it hard.

Following Chu Nian’s directions, the driver pulled into the underground garage of Building 2.

Wen Wan Ning gently patted Shen Jia Yan, her voice soft and gentle. “Jia Yan, we’re home. Can you get up?”

Shen Jia Yan groggily opened her eyes, her lashes fluttering. She gazed at Wen Wan Ning with hazy, drunken dependence. “Wan Ning?”

“Yeah, I’m taking you home.” Wen Wan Ning helped her sit up slowly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her fingertip accidentally brushing her earlobe.

Chu Nian had already gotten out and opened the door, saying softly, “Lawyer Wen, let me help her.”

But Wen Wan Ning shook her head slightly, her movements firm yet gentle. “No need, I’ll do it.”

She steadied Shen Jia Yan’s waist with one hand and supported her arm with the other, carefully helping her out of the back seat. Shen Jia Yan’s steps were unsteady; she practically leaned her entire body against her, her warm breath brushing her neck.

Wen Wan Ning suppressed a slight tremble, then put a hat and mask on Shen Jia Yan. “Let’s go.”

The three headed to the elevator, Chu Nian following silently behind, watching their intimate silhouettes—they looked more and more perfect together.

The elevator reached the sixth floor, a single-unit apartment.

Chu Nian quickened her pace to reach the door first.

She lit up the keypad lock and said to Wen Wan Ning, “Lawyer Wen, Jia Yan-jie’s password is 110826.” Her voice was calm, but she deliberately slowed her speech.

She didn’t know if Shen Jia Yan would be mad when she woke up and found out she’d shared the password with Wen Wan Ning, but for the sake of her CP’s happiness, she was all in—even if it meant getting scolded.

Wen Wan Ning looked at her, a flicker in her eyes. Those usually serene, deep-pool eyes now held a faint warmth. “Thank you.”

She knew Chu Nian had seen through her intentions, her feelings for Shen Jia Yan. She was grateful for her trust and “help.”

Chu Nian entered the password, and the lock beeped softly as the door opened.

She helped Wen Wan Ning get Shen Jia Yan inside and onto the bed.

Shen Jia Yan’s breathing was steady, her cheeks still flushed from the alcohol, her lashes casting a small shadow under the light.

Chu Nian stood by the bed and said quietly, “Lawyer Wen, I’ll head out first. Call me if you need anything.” She left her contact info with Wen Wan Ning.

Wen Wan Ning nodded, her voice very soft. “Okay.” She looked up with a shallow smile. “Call me Wan Ning-jie from now on. It’s friendlier.”

Chu Nian’s lips curved up. “Got it, Wan Ning-jie. I’ll go then.”

“Mm.”

Chu Nian left the room and gently closed the door. The hallway fell silent, save for a sliver of warm light from under the door.

In the room, Wen Wan Ning didn’t leave right away.

She sat on the edge of the bed, gazing at Shen Jia Yan’s sleeping face.

This is the second time I’ve brought a drunk you home, and only in moments like this can we be this close.

She reached out to brush away the stray hairs from Shen Jia Yan’s forehead, then slowly leaned down. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, outlining Shen Jia Yan’s sleeping contours. Her lashes trembled like butterfly wings, her warm breath grazing Wen Wan Ning’s fingertips.

In that instant, all restraint and reason melted into a surging tide, drawing her toward those lips that had haunted her dreams.

She let herself go, leaning in on instinct.

Just as their lips were about to touch—

“Wan Ning…” A low, hoarse murmur pierced the silence like electricity. Shen Jia Yan opened her eyes, those pupils startlingly bright in the dimness, reflecting Wen Wan Ning’s figure—and a long-suppressed flame.

Before Wen Wan Ning could react, Shen Jia Yan suddenly reached up, gripped the back of her neck, and flipped her onto the soft bedding. The movement was rough with drunkenness but utterly firm.

The next second, a scorching, urgent kiss fell—like a storm delayed five years finally breaching all defenses.

Wen Wan Ning froze for an instant, then all her restraint crumbled. She closed her eyes, her hands clutching Shen Jia Yan’s collar tightly, responding to this kiss laced with alcohol, grievance, and a thousand unspoken words.

Shen Jia Yan’s kiss was a bit rough, as if venting all the endurance, grievance, and unwillingness from that failed confession night up to now.

She roughly pried open Wen Wan Ning’s teeth, plunging deep inside, rampaging wildly, claiming without restraint.

Wen Wan Ning couldn’t quite handle it and gently pushed at her, her voice trembling slightly. “Yan Yan…”

Shen Jia Yan pulled back, her hands braced on either side of her, trapping her beneath. Her eyes were dazed. “Why? Why are you invading even my dreams now?”

Tears slid down her cheeks, dripping onto Wen Wan Ning’s collarbone, scalding like a silent accusation. She leaned in again to kiss her.

Still forceful, from her lips to her ear, her chin, her neck…

Wen Wan Ning closed her eyes, tears slipping from the corner of hers too. She didn’t push away again but slowly embraced Shen Jia Yan, letting her pour out her emotions in every touch.

She bit her lip gently, enduring the heartbreak, willing to bear it.

Shen Jia Yan, unable to hold back, pulled down the zipper of the wine-red dress, tugged off the shoulder straps, and kissed downward.

Wen Wan Ning couldn’t help a soft hum, her fingertips digging into her soft hair, her heartbeat surging out of control.

When Shen Jia Yan’s hand ventured lower, Wen Wan Ning suddenly snapped back to clarity and grabbed her wrist.

“Yan Yan.” Her voice trembled, laced with struggle and sobriety, her gaze wavering between intoxication and reason.

Shen Jia Yan let out a light, bitter laugh, rolling off her to lie beside, arm over her forehead, voice hoarse and self-mocking. “So… even in a dream, I’d still get rejected, huh.”

With that, she closed her eyes, her breathing evening out as exhaustion and alcohol finally overtook her.

Wen Wan Ning’s chest heaved. After a long moment, she slowly sat up, fastened her bra clasp, zipped up her dress, and adjusted the straps.

She turned to look at Shen Jia Yan. Her brows were slightly furrowed, lashes fluttering—as if even in her dream, she couldn’t let go of that longing.

A tear slid from the corner of her eye, soaking into her hairline.

Wen Wan Ning leaned down, gently wiping the tear from her eye, her fingertip caressing her cheek. “Yan Yan, if you want me, I’m willing. But I want it when you’re sober—when you’re looking into my eyes and telling me yourself that you want me.

“Not because of alcohol, not because of a dream, not because of five years of regret, but because the you right now still loves me.”

She gently tucked her in with a thin blanket, brushing her scattered hair behind her ear.

Then she stood quietly, dimming the room lights to the lowest, leaving only a small nightlight glowing faintly.

She softly closed the bedroom door and went to the living room.

She didn’t leave but sat on the sofa.

Her fingertip unconsciously brushed her lips, where the sensation of that fierce, almost painful kiss lingered. Thinking of what had just happened, a blush spread from her cheeks to her ears, like sunset soaking her skin. Her heart still raced, stuck on the moment Shen Jia Yan had pinned her down, tears falling on her neck.

She remembered Shen Jia Yan’s dream-mumbled words: “Why are you invading even my dreams now?” The tone held grievance, stubbornness, and a vulnerability she’d never heard before.

And that line, “So even in a dream, I’d still get rejected,” pierced through all her five-year facade like a fine needle.

She wasn’t rejecting her; she was waiting—for her to approach soberly, not tumbling into her arms swept up by drunkenness and dreams.

She curled up her legs, burying her face in her arms.

What I want isn’t a drunken impulse, or the grievances you hold back when sober but release when drunk.

What I want is for you to open your eyes, see me, and still choose to come closer; for you to share with me after striking the final drumbeat on stage; for you to take my hand again and say, “I still love you.”