Wen Yin blinked. Her face still wore that innocent, slightly stunned expression, but her bright eyes had gone sly in an instant.
She rose onto her toes, closing the distance between them little by little until Shao Yinan was almost pinned against the door. Their breaths mingled in the narrow space.
Her lips parted, a slow, tempting movement. Every motion she made seemed designed to lure. The slight lift at the corners of her eyes sparkled like autumn pools—quiet, lethal. “Is that so?”
Her mouth smelled faintly of the shower; the steam clung to her skin and a barely-there fragrance lingered about her. She lifted a hand and brushed his collar, inching nearer. “Am I the one who seems impatient?”
Her tone threaded upward, teasing like a small hook anyone could stumble on. Pale, delicate fingers trailed down his shirt. Shao Yinan’s earlobe flushed; his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed against the stir in his chest. A vein showed pale beneath the skin of his throat.
“You think I’m right?” she asked, mischief burning bright in her eyes. She looked like a lithe little fox—cute, dangerous.
“Sh—Shao... Third Young Master.” For a moment she let her playfulness take over, determined to give back as good as she’d been given. She hadn’t noticed how childish some of her moves had become.
Shao Yinan seemed to catch something in her change. He stifled the fluttering in his chest and, without warning, reversed the momentum—forcing her back against the wall.
Her hands were pinned. The hand that had been fretting at his chest was held fast. Wen Yin realized how intimate their position was and felt her cheeks ignite.
“I— I was only joking. Let go of me,” she protested, embarrassed but careful not to be harsh. She shot him an exaggerated, mock-threat glare, half pout, half plea.
From the hallway it would have looked as if he were cradling her in his arms; the difference in their heights and builds made the scene all the more obvious.
“A joke?” Shao Yinan mimicked her, the tail of his voice tilting up in the way she had just done. His thin smile was slow and dangerous; his peach-colored eyes deepened, pinning her. “So Ah Yin means she was being naughty?”
He emphasized the word—mischief replaced momentarily by a gravity that made her look away.
“Y-yes…” Wen Yin squirmed, and in doing so only made his gaze darker. All she wanted now was to be released. This closeness felt unbearably awkward.
He chuckled softly, about to speak when a series of knocks sounded on the door.
Voices followed, sharp and familiar.
“What are you doing here?” one demanded.
“That question should be for Director Xiao,” another replied. Wen Yin recognized the voices instantly—Xiao Mo and Jiang Shihuai, and for a moment she wondered why they were arguing outside her door at this hour. Had they both lost their minds?
“Still hanging around my doorstep at this hour—trying to stir something up?” The two men’s words came edged with challenge, and Shao Yinan’s expression darkened without his meaning to.
Xiao Mo and Jiang Shihuai stood face to face at her door, uncaring of anyone else nearby. Tonight neither seemed willing to back down.
Xiao’s voice held a quiet barb. “You forget yourself, Jiang. The gains of the past two years were achieved through cooperation with all the families, not by you alone.”
Jiang snorted, contempt hovering in the line of his mouth. “Since when did the Xiao family become the only one that matters?” His reply landed cold and cutting. He wasn’t about to let the man stroll back in on the strength of old connections.
“You think even the Qi family or the Shao family would let you talk to them like that?” Jiang’s eyes flashed. Neither of them seemed to notice that Shao Yinan and Wen Yin were on the other side of the door, listening to every barb.
Jiang leaned closer, lowering his voice with a smirk. “By the way, Director Xiao—did you forget to brush your teeth this morning? Your breath is something else.”
Xiao ground his teeth but kept his composure. He rapped again on Wen Yin’s door. “Wen Yin, I know you’re in there. I need to talk to you.”
No answer came from inside. The apartment’s occupant had decided not to acknowledge him.
When Xiao lifted his hand to knock again, Jiang grabbed his wrist and held it fast. “Let it go. You’ll only upset Wen Zhi.”
Tension from the corridor drifted into the room like cold air. Wen Yin moved, voice small. “They’re such a pain. I’ll go out and get rid of them.”
Shao Yinan looked at her with a half-smile that was more hurt than amused. “So Ah Yin, you care about your suitors after all.”
She froze. The implication landed between them, and she hadn’t needed him to explain. Before she could speak, his voice came again, low and steady.
“You said you were being naughty. Naughty girls need a punishment.” Those peach-irised eyes were unblinking. “Ah Yin—may I kiss you?”
Her pupils tightened. She didn’t get a chance to answer. Warm pressure blazed against her lips. The kiss was deliberate and soft, his mouth asking rather than taking, and everything around them—knocks, angry voices, the hallway lights—seemed to fall away.