Ziye had kicked off the covers at some point, her two legs resting brazenly atop the blanket, the shadows gathering at the root of her thighs in a tantalizing display that nearly caused An Junlie internal damage.

He closed his eyes, walked over, slid the blanket out from under her body, and draped it back over her.

She must have felt too warm, as she immediately tried to kick it off again.

An Junlie remembered he had specifically raised the temperature earlier, worried she might catch a chill, and had forgotten to lower it. He reached out to test her forehead; she was slightly sweaty.

He lifted the cover slightly, adjusted the temperature to a more suitable level, and once it had cooled a little, pulled it back over her.

He silently swore to his teacher that he truly harbored no improper thoughts, yet the scene before him was enough to make any man’s blood boil.

The shirt she was wearing was silk—silk, a material as thin as a cicada's wing; you could see through three layers, let alone just one.

His own shirt was made of an extremely thick yarn count, but even so, concealing light proved exceedingly difficult.

An Junlie fought to keep his gaze from drifting lower, but the dryness in his throat was undeniable, his Adam's apple bobbing uncontrollably. Through the sheer silk, under the dim, hazy lamplight, he could vaguely discern the full, rounded shape of her chest. The rosy peaks were presented to him with proud defiance, stretching the soft fabric into a perfect curve.

Only two buttons on the shirt remained fastened—buttons he himself had fastened earlier.

Just undo those fasteners, and everything would…

An Junlie couldn't help but recall when he was nine years old, and his teacher had used an ancient mech from thirty years prior to test him. "Little Jun," the teacher had said, "if you can catch up to me, I'll give you the mech."

To him then, that old mech was worth more than all the treasures in the world.

To earn that ancient machine, he had pushed himself to the limit, spending a full ten hours before finally overtaking his teacher and successfully claiming the prize.

He still remembered the emotion of that moment, and the tears.

Now, the temptation before him was a hundred times more alluring than that old mech!

The only difference was that this time, he couldn't win it through pursuit; he had to restrain it, or tonight would inevitably end in disaster.

And suppressing this urge would be a hundred times harder than the restraint he'd managed moments before.

He involuntarily placed his palm over the rising peaks, touching that softness, that gentle throb.

It was Ziye’s heartbeat.

A quiet, peaceful rhythm.

Far removed from all conflict and battle, beating steadily, neither fast nor slow.

Somehow, his heart suddenly calmed.

An Junlie broke into a sudden smile, used a voice command to extinguish the wall lamp, and lay down beside her.

The night was pitch black.

In the darkness, one could not see one's own hand.

An Junlie thought that if he couldn't see Ziye, everything would be fine.

He was wrong.

He and Ziye were separated by less than three inches.

He could feel her presence clearly beside him; her breath was clean and shallow, soft and long.

He couldn't resist turning onto his side, drawing close to her, enveloping her in his arms. This was the first time he had shared a bed with Ziye. Perhaps Ziye would never even realize this intimacy, but he didn't want to move; he only wanted to hold her like this, until eternity.

No clothes, or wearing someone else's clothes. A man sleeping beside her. The sheets were tangled.

These three conditions simultaneously met led to one conclusion: A one-night stand!

When Ziye woke in the morning, she immediately sensed something was wrong. Her lower body felt bare, as if she were unclothed? Her top was an unfamiliar man’s shirt. Ziye was so alarmed her hair seemed to stand on end. Aiya, who had she spent the night with?!

The covers beside her were bunched up. She could feel an intensely hot body temperature radiating from next to her. An arm was wrapped around her waist.

These three clues confirmed that the man she had just spent the night with was sleeping right there beside her.

Ziye suddenly felt timid, afraid to turn her head to see who the man beside her was.

Maybe it was a robot? Maybe a hotel concierge? Maybe a thief who had climbed in during the night…

The more Ziye thought, the more horrified she became, freezing in place, afraid to move. If she accidentally slept with a man, she was responsible, wasn't she? It was over—how would she explain this to An Junlie!

Ziye buried her face in the covers, ostrich-like in the belief that if she didn't look at the man, he wouldn't harass her.

Reality proved that the ostrich method was unreliable.

Before she could organize her thoughts, a hand reached out and pressed her back down into the mattress. The man beside her murmured in a breathy voice, "Be good, sleep a little longer."

Ziye sharply turned her head and saw An Junlie’s handsome face.

Their eyes met. Ziye let out a shriek, grabbed the cover, wrapped it tightly around herself, and desperately shuffled away.

He had seen her completely naked? What should she do, what should she do?

She tucked her head into the covers too, wriggling like a caterpillar.

An Junlie remained still.

Ziye heard no sound from him, nor detected any movement. Suspiciously, she poked her head out from under the covers and secretly glanced at him.

Phew, thank heavens, he was wearing trousers, though his upper body was bare.

Ziye felt significantly calmer, though simultaneously a little guilty. Had she been without clothes and stripped his shirt off in the middle of the night to wear herself?

She was stunned by her own thought. Seeing he hadn't moved, she adopted a strategy of 'If the enemy doesn't move, I don't move,' watching him quietly, waiting for his reaction.

But An Junlie didn't react; he continued to sleep soundly.

Ziye felt a flicker of resentment. Suddenly, she realized—she was the victim here!

She never slept without clothes; he must have taken hers off. She had to ask him to explain.

So, Ziye, like a hungry green worm, shuffled closer to An Junlie and nudged his head with hers.

An Junlie opened his eyes, his gaze perfectly clear, showing no sign of just waking up.

Ziye became even more certain, and her confidence surged. She demanded loudly, "You rogue, where did you put my clothes?"

An Junlie looked at her with an expression of 'bewilderment.' "You weren't wearing any clothes?"

Ziye clutched the blanket, having no hands free to hit him, so she bumped him hard with her head instead. "You're the one who wasn't wearing clothes!"

An Junlie watched her leisurely, then suddenly laughed. "Little sister, your face is flushed."

His gaze was too frank, so frank that Ziye wished she could find a crack in the floor to crawl into. "Get away from me."

An Junlie laughed heartily. "You are my girlfriend; if anyone needs to roll away, it should be you rolling away with me." Saying that, he reached out his arm and embraced Ziye. Ziye braced herself, thinking he truly meant to roll them both off the bed, but instead, he tugged on a corner of the blanket. She forgot to hold on tight, and the blanket was pulled away. An Junlie's hands moved with perfect precision beneath the cover, grasping her body.

His hands were excessively warm. The slight friction through the unexpected fabric sent a novel sensation through her that she found impossible to resist.

Every sleeping cell in her body seemed to instantly sprout delicate, sensitive tendrils.

Ziye hastily pulled back. "Don't you dare mess around!"

An Junlie played the gentleman. "Agreed, I won't mess around."

Ziye pried his arms away and shuffled two steps back. Suddenly, she felt something hanging down in front of her—oh dear, the buttons were undone…

Ziye felt like crying!

-RS