I crashed straight into Jinhai's chest, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs. His large arms caught me instantly, strong and unyielding, as if he'd been waiting for the exact moment to shield me from the fall.
I fell right into the cradle of his arms, my palms splayed against him. The heat of his body seeped through the fabric of his t-shirt and I felt the taut pull of muscle beneath my fingers. My breath hitched. My lipstick was smeared across the pristine white of his button-down, a scandalous splash of red on pure white.
I'd basically kissed his chest.
Mortification bloomed in my cheeks. Every inch of me was pressed against him, our bodies aligned far too perfectly. The warmth radiating from him curled around me, raising the hair on my neck, and for a fleeting, shameful second… I didn't want to move.
"No. Absolutely not." My mind screamed, "This is Jinhai Su, for heaven's sake!"
I shoved myself back, nearly tripping again in my haste to escape. Jinhai leaned forward instinctively, a large steadying hand hovering near my waist as if ready to catch me a second time.
"Lily, are you alright?" His voice was low, warm—too warm.
I looked up—and froze. His usually sharp, composed and boyish features were undone, his cheeks flushed crimson, his ears burning, his gaze slightly unfocused. His pupils were blown wide, like he'd just been caught doing something sinful.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Mr. Hangman and the other driver pausing mid-argument to stare, wide-eyed, as though they'd just stumbled into a drama scene they had no business watching.
My gaze dropped to the lipstick mark on his chest. Jinhai followed the look, and his eyes widened, the blush deepening until it reached the curve of his jaw.
"I— I'm so sorry, Mr. Jinhai!" I blurted, dropping to my knees in panic. "It was an accident! I promise! I'll replace the shirt, pay for cleaning, whatever you need—just please don't be mad."
He blinked at me, startled, and then a low, amused chuckle slipped out. He crouched down to meet my eye, his hand coming to rest gently on my shoulder.
"Relax, Lily. I'm not going to kill you."
I wasn't listening—I'd already gripped a corner of my dress and was frantically rubbing at the lipstick stain.
"Wait—" he started, but it was too late. I froze as I felt his gaze shift, his breath catch. I followed his line of sight down… and realized what he was seeing. My soaked dress had gone nearly translucent, the red lace of my bra peeking through.
His blush deepened, his eyes snapping away so fast it was almost comical. He cleared his throat, voice suddenly rough.
"Michael, do we have a coat in the car?"
"Yes, sir," Michael replied, already moving.
Jinhai turned sharply to Mr. Hangman, whose frown had only deepened. Pulling a sleek black business card from his pocket, Jinhai handed it over.
"I'll cover the damages. Contact this number. In the meantime, Lily can accompanying me to the venue."
"But Ms. Lily—" Mr. Hangman began.
"I'll be fine, Mr. Hangman," I interrupted, still avoiding Jinhai's gaze. "Please call me when the car's sorted."
Mr. Hangman slipped the card into his coat, giving Jinhai a glare that silently promised retribution if anything happened.
Michael returned, draping a thick, fur-lined coat over my shoulders, the scent of Jinhai's cologne clinging to it.
Jinhai stepped forward, his hand resting briefly at the small of my back, the touch sending an unwanted shiver racing down my spine. His voice dropped low, smooth.
"After you, Lily. I'll make sure you get there safely."
I kept my eyes on the ground as I slid into the plush leather seat of his car, my heart hammering far too hard for the second time in two days.
The hum of the engine filled the silence between us, steady and low, yet my pulse was anything but calm. I could feel Jinhai's gaze flick toward me every so often, assessing, maybe curious. I stared out the window, refusing to be the first to speak.
It was him who broke the quiet.
He tapped the black invitation card lying between us on the seat. "You dropped this when you nearly… flattened me." His lips curved faintly. "I take it you weren't planning on showing up like this."
Heat rushed to my face again. I tugged the coat tighter around me. "Not exactly my ideal entrance."
His gaze dropped—just briefly—to the lipstick mark still blooming across his pristine shirt, before returning to my face. "Speaking of… what are you going to do about my shirt, Lily?"
I bristled, sitting straighter. "I told you I'd pay for cleaning."
"I don't think the dry cleaner's magic will get this out," he said smoothly, one brow arching. "But I have a simpler solution. I have a private suite booked at the venue. We can both change before stepping into the spotlight."
I blinked. "Wait—you want me to go with you to your suite?"
"It's not as scandalous as you're imagining," he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes. "The suite is for business meetings and quick wardrobe changes. I'll change my shirt, and you…" His gaze swept—swiftly, politely—over my damp dress. "…probably need a change more urgently than I do."
"I'll manage." My tone was stubborn, but my voice lacked conviction.
"You could," he conceded, "but you'd be uncomfortable, freezing, and the centerpiece of every whispered conversation tonight. Or…" He leaned back, voice turning low. "…you could accept my help. I'm offering it freely."
I hesitated. He was a stranger. A very young, very composed stranger who somehow was twice as mature for his age and who made my stomach feel like it was caught between a storm and a freefall.
"That's… really kind of you," I said finally, my tone guarded but sincere.
A faint, satisfied smile curved his lips. "Good. I'll have a dress sent to the suite immediately." He pulled out his phone, murmured a few quick instructions in clipped Mandarin, then slipped it back into his pocket.
"You just… ordered me a dress?" I asked, incredulous.
"I have an assistant who owes me favors," he said lightly. "Consider it my penance for letting you collide with me in the rain."
I laughed despite myself. "Oh, so it's your fault now?"
He glanced at me sidelong. "Obviously. If I'd stepped two inches to the left, you would have hit the wall instead."
"I'm not sure if that's better or worse," I muttered.
"Worse," he said without hesitation. "Walls don't have reflexes."
I shook my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. The tension between us had shifted—still taut, but warmer now, threaded with something that felt dangerously close to… camaraderie. Maybe this was how he had charmed his way into the judge's good books during ASTRIX. It was all anyone was talking about these days too.
As the car slowed, the city lights bleeding into gold and silver through the rain-smeared windows, something prickled at the back of my neck. I turned my head, scanning the street.
A figure dressed in red stood in the shadow of a streetlamp, face obscured beneath the glare of the streetlamp, but I could feel it—the gaze. Cold. Unwavering. Following the car as it rolled past.
My stomach tightened.
Jinhai didn't seem to notice, still speaking to Michael about our arrival. But I kept my eyes locked on that shadow until it vanished into the night, swallowed by the rain.