"What?" The chandelier's hazy lights glimmered in Feng Wanting's eyes as he asked hoarsely, "Do I really have no appeal to Curator Pei?"
Pei Yang's Adam's apple bobbed. How he wished everything before him was one absurd dream, so he could stay lucid as he plunged into it. Once he woke completely, Pei Yang would still be Pei Yang, and Feng Wanting would still be Feng Wanting. There would be no entanglement, no flirtation, just an ordinary relationship between a boss and his subordinate.
But the reality was that Feng Wanting's breath was scorching his ear, and those eyes, usually as sharp as a hawk's, were now brimming with an alarming possessiveness.
Pei Yang avoided Feng Wanting's gaze and pushed at him. "I-I'm hungry. Make me a bowl of noodles."
"Noodles...?" Feng Wanting felt terribly uneasy. "Didn't you just get back from dinner?"
"That wasn't dinner. It was a chess match." Pei Yang loosened his tie, revealing the long, elegant line of his neck. "I didn't eat a bite."
"What exactly were you and Gu Xin doing? Why were you pretending to be her boyfriend?" Feng Wanting was dying of jealousy.
"What makes you so sure I was 'pretending,' Director Feng?" Pei Yang's eyelids fluttered, and he gave him a tantalizing wink. "What if it was real?"
"Then tomorrow I'll go tell your girlfriend..." Feng Wanting abruptly leaned closer, his nose almost touching Pei Yang's. "How you still managed to moan last night with your hand over your mouth."
"You!" The tips of Pei Yang's ears instantly burned.
"Xile isn't here tonight." Feng Wanting chuckled softly. "You can be as loud as you like."
Pei Yang snorted. "Tonight, we're not doing it."
"..."
"Are you sure?" Feng Wanting's fingers slowly slid down Pei Yang's spine. "Once Xile comes back tomorrow,