Zihan was behind the wheel, his hands steady on the leather steering as he drove them back in silence. The hum of the engine and the cool night air had lulled Guo Min into a deep sleep almost the moment her head touched the seat.
The sudden halt of the car jolted her awake. Her lashes fluttered open, and with a soft yawn, she stretched her arms lazily.
"Mm…" she murmured, her voice groggy. Her gaze drifted around before settling on the house outside the window. Confusion crept across her features. "Why am I at your place?"
Zihan didn't hesitate. His tone was calm, clipped, as if the answer was the most natural thing in the world.
"...Why not? You are my fiancée."
Her brows knitted together. "But we are not… married."
His lips curved, faint amusement flickering in his eyes. "That will happen sooner or later. Your luggage will be delivered here tomorrow."
Before she could even form a reply, he had already stepped out, the door clicking shut with finality. She huffed under her breath, gathering her bag and following him reluctantly.
Inside, the familiar scent of his home wrapped around her. Expensive, refined, yet distinctly him. The marble floors gleamed beneath the warm lights, the silence of the house broken only by their footsteps.
Zihan glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Why are you so tense when you've been here before?" He paused deliberately, his gaze lingering on her face. "...Nervous?"
A small, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.
"…No. No, I'm not," Guo Min said quickly, clearing her throat, though her sudden stiffness betrayed her words.
His smirk deepened. He sank into the couch, unbuttoning his blazer with unhurried grace before draping it neatly over the armrest. "It's good to see my sharp-tongued fiancee finally aware of me," he said smoothly. "But don't worry. I'm not in the mood tonight."
For some reason, his words didn't bring relief. Her eyes narrowed, suspicion sparking. "Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better. Are you saying I'm… not attractive?"
The question earned her a low, subtle chuckle. He rose from the couch, his tall frame looming as he closed the distance between them. His eyes glinted with quiet amusement, his movements slow and deliberate, predatory almost.
He bent down until his lips were a breath away from her ear, his voice a hushed whisper that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Why? Do you want me to touch you?"
Her breath caught. For a brief second, her body froze under the intensity of his gaze. Then, with a flustered laugh, she took a step back, fumbling for words.
"I...I should shower. It's been a long day." Her cheeks burned as she practically fled down the hallway, muttering excuses under her breath.
Zihan straightened, watching her retreat with that same unreadable calm, though the curve of his mouth hinted at quiet satisfaction.
Shaking his head with a faint sigh, Zihan climbed the stairs at an unhurried pace. The house was silent except for the soft hum of the night. He entered the master bedroom, its muted tones and refined order reflecting him perfectly.
Standing before the mirror cabinet, he loosened his tie, slipping it off with practiced ease before setting it neatly aside. His watch followed, the faint click of metal against wood sounding sharp in the stillness. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, the white fabric falling open as he rolled his shoulders with quiet composure. Finally, he sat on the edge of the bed, long legs stretched out, waiting for Guo Min to finish.
Meanwhile, inside the bathroom, Guo Min pressed her palms to her flushed cheeks. Her reflection in the fogged-up mirror only made her more frantic. She wanted to scream or laugh at the absurdity. No towel. No clothes. Not even underwear.
Her eyes darted to the neatly folded hotel-style bathrobe on the rack. Of course it's only one that is there.
She chewed on her lip before inching to the door. With the greatest reluctance, she cracked it open, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders as she poked her head out.
"…Zihan," she called softly, her voice betraying both hesitation and irritation.
Zihan, who was now standing by the window with his phone at his ear, turned at the sound of her voice. His eyes immediately flicked to her, his gaze sharp and unreadable.
"Hold on. I'll call you back." His tone to the person on the other end was calm, clipped. He ended the call without waiting for a reply, sliding the phone into his pocket. Then he walked toward her.
"Yes?"
She bit her lip, lowering her eyes before speaking. "…I don't have clothes. Or… a towel. Or… underwear." The last word left her lips in a whisper, as if admitting it would burn her alive.
A faint pause lingered before his lips curved almost imperceptibly.
"Oh. I forgot." He nodded once, as if this was the simplest problem in the world. Without a hint of discomfort, he crossed the room to the walk-in closet.
Pulling open the polished doors, he selected something with precise movements, as if he had known exactly where everything was. He turned back and held out a silk, long-sleeved nightgown, delicate yet modest.
Her eyes widened slightly as she took it from him. "These are new?"
"Yes." His gaze remained steady on her, his voice smooth. "We're living together from now on. I had your clothes prepared in advance, according to the style you like."
Her fingers brushed over the silk fabric, its smooth texture cool against her skin. She hesitated, then whispered"…Thank you."
Zihan's lips curved into a faint smirk, though his eyes held something deeper and sharper. "...Words? Is that all?" His tone was soft but laced with quiet reproach, like he expected more.
Flustered, Guo Min's lips parted. "Wait for me to finish," she muttered quickly, pouting before shutting the bathroom door in his face. Inside, The gown slipped smoothly over her skin.
Zihan only glanced briefly, his expression unreadable, before silently heading into the bathroom. When he emerged later, dressed in understated dark pajamas, he carried himself with the same composed calm.
Without a word, he lay down beside her, the faint rustle of sheets filling the quiet. "Good night," he said evenly, his voice carrying finality.
"Hm. Good night," she echoed.
The room sank into silence. Neither of them moved much, yet sleep remained distant. Zihan closed his eyes, his breathing steady, as though willing himself to rest. Guo Min, however, found herself restless. Her gaze kept drifting to him, his sharp jawline, the relaxed fall of his hair, the faint rise and fall of his chest. Every second, her eyes betrayed her, stealing glances she pretended not to take.
Finally, unable to restrain herself, she leaned closer. Her lips brushed his cheek in the gentlest of kisses, a fleeting touch followed by her whispered, "Good night."
She pulled back quickly, preparing to settle in.
But the moment she moved away, his eyes snapped open. In one fluid motion, his lips crashed against hers, abrupt, unyielding. His mouth pried hers open, tongue forcing its way inside with practiced dominance.
When he finally broke it, his breath was harsh, ragged though controlled, his voice rough as it rumbled against her lips.
"Min," he said, his tone carrying both warning and possession, "I don't like this. Do you find it amusing to test my patience?"
His gaze bore into hers, sharp and unrelenting, the tension between them heavy enough to steal the air from her lungs.