Morning Awkwardness and a Silent Flutter

The elevator arrived at Lin Chen's floor with a ding.

Yan Qingyue had nearly exhausted every ounce of strength dragging the dead-heavy guy, who kept sliding down, out of the elevator and laboriously over to his apartment door.

"The keys... Lin Chen, where are your keys?"

Panting, she patted his face.

Lin Chen mumbled a couple of times in a daze and reached instinctively for his pants pocket.

Yan Qingyue struggled to pull the key ring out of his pocket and tried several keys before she got the door open.

The characteristic smell of a bachelor's apartment greeted her: a little messy, but not dirty.

Yan Qingyue had no time to look around. Supporting him, she headed inside, intending to dump him on the fairly tidy-looking bed.

But just as she let go and turned to leave, her task accomplished, a scorching hand suddenly seized her wrist!

"Don't... don't go..."

Lin Chen lay on the bed, his eyes half open, his mind clearly still off in the nine heavens, but his grip was astonishingly strong.

As though clutching a life-saving straw, he held her hand in a death grip and pleaded indistinctly, "President Yan... don't go... I... I can protect you... really..."

His voice was thickly nasal and hoarse from drinking, sounding both vulnerable and stubborn.

Yan Qingyue's heart gave a sudden leap, and she tried to pull free:

"Lin Chen, you're drunk. Let go."

"I'm not drunk... I'm not..."

Not only did he refuse to let go, he gripped her hand even tighter and drew it toward his chest, like a child who felt insecure. "Those people... none of them are good... don't be scared... I'm here..."

The sudden movement made Yan Qingyue stumble, and she nearly fell on top of him.

Flustered, she braced her other hand against the edge of the bed, narrowly avoiding an awkward fall into his arms.

In an instant, the distance between them shrank to almost nothing.

She could clearly see his cheeks, flushed from drinking, his faintly trembling eyelashes, and... those eyes, still trying to express something even through the haze of drunkenness.

His scorching body heat came through the thin fabric of their clothes, mingling with the smell of alcohol and a clean scent that was his alone. Together, they formed an intensely invasive masculine presence that enveloped her.

Yan Qingyue's breathing suddenly quickened, and her heart raced wildly.

This bastard! How is he still so strong when he's drunk!

Both embarrassed and annoyed, she tried again to wrench her hand free, but to no avail.

"Lin Chen! Let go of me!"

She kept her voice low, with a trace of barely perceptible panic.

"No..."

He shook his head stubbornly and instead pressed her hand against his scorching chest.

Through his shirt, she could clearly feel his strong, powerful heartbeat, thudding against her palm, beat after beat.

The vibrations seemed to carry an electric current that shot through her entire body, leaving her limbs slightly weak.

"President Yan..."

He seemed to sigh comfortably, unconsciously rubbing his cheek against the back of her hand. His tone turned aggrieved and dependent. "My head hurts... I feel awful... don't go... stay with me..."

The vulnerability and dependence he revealed in that instant were like a feather, gently brushing the softest place in Yan Qingyue's heart.

Without meaning to, she stopped struggling.

She looked at the way he frowned in discomfort and remembered how he had desperately taken those drinks for her tonight, as well as those muddled but sincere declarations of "protection"...

A complicated feeling spread through her heart.

There was helplessness, amusement, and a trace of... softheartedness that even she was unwilling to admit.

In the end, she gave up on forcing her hand free.

She would... let him hold it for a little while.

He was so drunk that he would probably forget everything when he woke up tomorrow anyway.

She sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed in that awkward position.

She let him hold her hand against his scorching chest.

Time flowed slowly in the stillness.

She didn't know how long had passed before Lin Chen's breathing gradually grew steady and deep, and his tight grip slowly relaxed. At last, he fell fast asleep.

Yan Qingyue carefully withdrew her hand, which had gone a little numb, and looked at his defenseless sleeping face, her feelings complicated and hard to discern.

She took off his shoes, pulled the covers over him, then went to the bathroom and wrung out a hot towel. With somewhat clumsy movements, she helped wipe his face and hands.

When she had finished, she stood by the bed and took one last look at the man sunk in sleep before turning and gently closing the door behind her.

Back in the car, she leaned against the back seat and watched the night scenery flash past the window, but everything that had happened tonight kept replaying in her mind—how he had struggled to hold on while taking those drinks, the muddled truths he had spoken while drunk, the dependence with which he had clung to her hand...

The lake of her heart could no longer be still.

The next morning.

Lin Chen was jolted awake by a splitting headache.

He groaned as he sat up in bed, feeling as though ten thousand gongs and drums were pounding inside his head at once. His temples throbbed, and his throat was dry enough to smoke.

Damn... how much did I drink yesterday...

He rubbed his temples, trying hard to remember what had happened last night.

His memory was like a film with scenes missing, leaving only a few hazy fragments:

An endless stream of toasts, drinks downed in one go, President Yan seeming to speak up for him, and then... had he blacked out after that?

How had he gotten back?

Who had brought him home?

He struggled out of bed, intending to pour himself a glass of water. His gaze happened to sweep over the nightstand, and he froze.

A glass of water sat on the nightstand, with a note tucked underneath it.

He picked up the note suspiciously. A line of delicate yet forceful writing was on it—it was Yan Qingyue's handwriting!

"Drink the water when you wake up. There's hangover medicine on the coffee table. —Yan"

Lin Chen's heart gave a sudden leap!

President Yan had brought him home?!

She had even poured him water and left him medicine?!

Heavens, spare me! Yan Iceberg actually did something like this?!

He could hardly believe his eyes.

He tried hard to remember, and a few hazy fragments began to attack him:

It seemed... in the car... had he leaned against her? And... had he said something too?

I think... I even said she was beautiful?

I think... I even said I wanted to marry her?!

I think... I even grabbed her hand and wouldn't let her go?! Said... said I'd protect her?!

The scattered fragments came together. Though incomplete, they were enough to make Lin Chen's face turn deathly pale and cold sweat break out!

Holy shit!!! I didn't really say those outrageous things, did I?!

And do something so rude too?!

Did President Yan hear it all?! Was she angry?!

Is that why she left this water and medicine, hinting that I should "take the medicine and hurry to the company to meet my doom"?!

Overwhelming panic and embarrassment engulfed him, and his headache seemed to grow worse.

He hurriedly swallowed the hangover medicine, gulped down a large glass of water, then showered and changed as fast as he could. He practically flew to the company.

All the way there, he prayed frantically that last night had just been an absurd dream.

But when he walked into the office with his hair half dry, his face pale, and his eyes darting about, every last hope he had of getting lucky was shattered.

Yan Qingyue was already there.

She sat behind her desk, looking down at a document. The lines of her profile were as cold and stern as ever, betraying no emotion.

But Lin Chen keenly sensed that even the air around him seemed to have congealed.

He braced himself and dawdled over to the president's office door, took a deep breath, and knocked.

"Come in."

Her cool voice came from inside, giving no hint of pleasure or anger.

Lin Chen pushed the door open and went in. Like a prisoner awaiting judgment, he kept his head down, not daring to look at her:

"Good morning, President Yan..."

Yan Qingyue looked up and swept her gaze over his face. When she saw how pale he was and the obvious dark circles under his eyes, her gaze shifted almost imperceptibly, but soon returned to calm.

"Mm."

She responded coolly, her tone flat and unruffled. "Sober now?"

Lin Chen's heart leaped into his throat!

Here it comes! Judgment has come!

He hurriedly nodded like a pestle pounding garlic:

"I'm sober, I'm sober! Thank you for the water and medicine yesterday, President Yan! Sorry for the trouble I caused you! I'm very sorry!"

He wanted nothing more than to bow to her on the spot.

Yan Qingyue watched him, so nervous that he looked ready to dig a hole and crawl into it. A fleeting hint of amusement flashed through her eyes, but her face remained cold:

"Know your limits from now on. Don't push yourself. Go back to work."

That... that was it?

No calling him to account? No sarcastic jabs?

Lin Chen froze for a moment, scarcely able to believe his ears.

She... she didn't mention last night? Did she forget? Or... was she saving me from embarrassment?

Feeling as though he had been granted a pardon, yet still full of doubts and unease, he hurriedly answered:

"Yes, yes! Thank you, President Yan! I'll definitely learn my lesson!"

With that, he practically fled the office.

The moment the door closed, Yan Qingyue put down the document in her hand and looked at the door he had just shut, her fingertips tapping lightly on the desk of their own accord.

The image of him gripping her hand tightly last night and murmuring "protect you" rose unbidden in her mind again, along with his terrified "I'm finished, I'm dead" expression that morning...

At last, the corners of her lips curled upward in the faintest, slightest arc.

That fool.

Outside the door, Lin Chen leaned against the wall, held a hand over his still-pounding heart, and let out a long breath.

Scared me to death... looks like President Yan is magnanimous enough not to hold it against a drunk like me?

But... the way she looked at me just now... seemed... not quite so cold?

Even... maybe a little... gentle?

He shook his head, casting aside the absurd thought.

It must have been my imagination! A hallucination from the headache!

Get to work! Make up for my mistakes with good work!

He patted his face and tried to throw himself into his work, attempting to ignore the faint, strange flutter deep in his heart.

Inside and outside the office, the two were each lost in their own thoughts, as a subtle, ambiguous atmosphere quietly spread.