Bo Jingyu seized her wrist without asking and yanked her close.
“Aren’t you going to behave?” he demanded.
The thin veil fluttered just enough to reveal Shen Ximan’s mouth — a smear of cream still clinging to one corner, absurdly tempting.
“Stay still. Don’t bolt.”
He lifted the edge of the veil, thumb sweeping the cream from her lip. His knuckle hooked under her chin; through the gauze he kissed her.
A bell tolled somewhere in Shen Ximan’s head. Everything went blank.
What was he doing?
People nearby had noticed. A few covered their mouths, faces flushed with excitement.
“Oh my god, is this for real? So romantic!”
“I think that’s the second son from the Bo Group… and the woman with him—could she be his wife?”
“Weren’t there rumors about her and the eldest and even his sister in some messy love quadrangle? This looks staged. Somebody take a picture and clear it up online!”
Warm breath ghosted across her face. The place where his lips had touched felt both cold and scorching at once.
“Shall we dance?” he asked.
She stared at him, still reeling.
“I don’t really know how,” she admitted.
He smiled, soft as water, took her hand, and led her toward the center of the floor. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you.”
As soon as the two recognizable figures moved, the crowd parted like a slow tide. Eyes fixed on them with a mixture of envy and curiosity.
“I really can’t—let me go.” Shen Ximan’s cheeks flamed as she tried to pull her hand free. He tightened his grip instead.
“This is your best chance to clear up the rumors,” Bo Jingyu murmured, all tenderness and calculation threaded together. She had been foolish enough to think he’d changed. Foolish to believe in the gentleness he had displayed.
It was all part of the plan.
Shen Ximan’s stomach sank as clues fell into place: the earlier coaxing from Su Minghan for a medical checkup, the staged heroics, the insistence on an evening out. Nothing had been accidental.
She decided to sabotage it. Every two steps she took, she deliberately stomped on the top of his foot with her stiletto. The heels were narrow; the strike stung.
“What are you doing, Second Young Master? This song seems like it’s going to last a while. I wonder how much longer your foot can take.” She curled her mouth with a pleased little malice.
He bit back the pain and sped up a beat, catching her off guard.
“You really are vindictive,” he said, forcing the words lightly. But when his pace changed he pivoted her into a spin she couldn’t follow. One, two, three turns; the room tilted; stars danced in front of her eyes.
“Bo Jingyu, you bastard, you’re getting revenge on me!” she snapped, breathless.
“To be of the same kind as you is an honor,” he replied, then used his body to pull her into a dramatic dip, his face drawing so close she could see the dark sweep of his lashes.
“Let go of me!” Her legs trembled.
“Beg me and I’ll let you up,” he countered, mischief in his smile.
“Beg you? Never.” She glared.
“Oh? We’ll see how stubborn you are.” He pressed down again with meticulous intent.
Every muscle in her body screamed. She bit her lip until the pain broke her will. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Let me up, please.” Her voice came out high and whiny, instantly betraying her.
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not the point.” He enjoyed drawing out the performance.
“I shouldn’t have been stubborn. I shouldn’t have tried to do something petty. Please—” Tears streamed, more from the strain than from real remorse. She’d remember this humiliation. She’d keep a ledger. When the time was right, he would pay.
“Barely passing,” he said at last. He hauled them both upright.
Her legs gave out and she sagged into his arms, limp as a ribbon, as if it had all been intentional.
“You really are fragile,” he said, taking another step toward audacity. “That little pose didn’t last ten seconds.”
She curled her fist and thumped his chest once, then hard enough to sting. “You wait and see.”
“All right. I’ll wait—for your revenge. For now, come home with me.” His voice was casual, but the promise of that waiting made it oddly intimate.
The words carried her back through the night to earlier moments he’d been blunt with her. “What are you zoning out for?” he’d said when she stared. “Where are you off to?” she’d answered, uncertain and tripped-up by the man who’d spent the evening tempting her with both his face and his words. He’d been infuriatingly, aggravatingly handsome.
“The mansion isn’t an option tonight. We’ll head back to East Suburb.”
Half an hour later they arrived at the residence. An Ruo lay asleep, clutching a battered rabbit toy, breathing even and peaceful. This was a side of her Shen Ximan hadn’t seen before. Previously, whenever she’d gone down to the basement the girl had been a frightened scrap of bone in some shadowy corner or staring blankly, like a forgotten doll. Pitiful and helpless.
Bo Jingyu had taken An Ruo in, initially as a bargaining chip. Yet his treatment of her was different from how the Shen family acted. The rumors of him as a cold, ruthless man didn’t match what his hands did now—gentle, unhurried, oddly tender.
“It’s late. You should stay,” he offered.
“No. Grandpa’s home alone. I can’t leave him.” Voices came up from downstairs; Shen Ximan pressed her ear to the door.
“Please look after the lady. She’s exhausted,” Bo Jingyu said.
“Do you want me to pass anything along?” Aunt Yang asked, perceptive.
“No, just you get some rest.” He left with long strides.
In the dark of her room, Shen Ximan opened her phone. Her thumb hovered over a name and hesitated, then finally tapped out a message.
“Thank you for what you did for An Ruo. I didn’t get to say it in person. As for tonight… let’s call it even.”
The car was halfway down the lane when Bo Jingyu read the text. He skimmed it, smiled without mirth, and muttered, “No respect for rank.” He found the phrase “let bygones be bygones” amusingly familiar — a turn of phrase he liked to use himself.
The words chased off whatever weight had burdened him earlier. Dawn hadn’t come yet, but light leaked at the edges of a new mood.
By morning, a pinned trending topic on the internet had exploded. Reporters and cameras swarmed the Bo Group like bees. Su Minghan was on the phone to him before the sun was fully up, full of complaints and half-laughed outrage.