Ethan Jiang stared at her for a long moment. As Elena Shen pleaded over and over for him to stay, he gently pinched her chin, his gaze fixed on that delicate and beautiful face beneath the soft light.
"Elena," he said, his voice low and steady, "you'll regret this when morning comes."
She paused for two seconds, then shook her head firmly.
Her red lips parted slightly as she whispered, "No, I won't."
Truth be told, Elena was exhausted. She had already been drowsy while drinking with Annie Gu at the bar. After a long and emotionally draining afternoon, she was beyond tired.
But she dared not sleep.
She couldn't fall asleep.
If it hadn't been for the sudden thunderstorm, she would have crawled into bed long ago and drifted off without a second thought.
But thunderstorms—those were her greatest fear.
Until this "lifeline" in front of her agreed to stay, she didn't even dare close her eyes.
Seeing the girl curled up beside him, clearly worn out—eyes rimmed with red from exhaustion, yet refusing to sleep—Ethan gently brushed her lips with his thumb. One large hand supported her waist as he softly patted her back, coaxing her to lie down.
"Close your eyes and sleep."
The tone of Ethan Jiang's bedroom matched the man himself—cold, composed, and restrained.
Elena's jet-black hair spread across the pillow, a striking contrast to the deep-toned sheets, making her porcelain skin appear even whiter by comparison.
After a lingering glance, Ethan turned away, switching off the crystal chandelier above and leaving only the dimmest of warm wall lights on.
The heavy curtains were drawn tightly shut, completely blocking the flashes of lightning that tore across the night sky outside.
But they couldn't keep out the thunder—booming and relentless, shaking the world with every strike.
Each time the thunder cracked outside, Elena, cocooned in her blanket, instinctively inched closer to Ethan.
Within ten minutes, like a cautious little snail, she had crept nearly all the way to his side. Ethan's eyes darkened slightly. Eventually, he gave in and simply pulled her into his arms.
Only then did Elena finally relax and close her eyes.
Time passed quietly. Seeing her lying still, peacefully asleep, Ethan assumed she had drifted off. He carefully lifted his arm from around her waist, intending to go cool off with a cold shower.
But just as he moved, the supposedly asleep Elena stirred beneath the blanket, her brows furrowing in discomfort. She opened her dewy eyes and looked straight at him.
"I feel… uncomfortable…"
Ethan leaned in. "Where exactly?"
Elena frowned, shifting her arms beneath the covers as if struggling with something. Eventually, she stopped and looked up at him with a stubborn, sleepy gaze, unashamedly ordering,
"My dress is too tight. I can't breathe… help me change."
Ethan's temple throbbed faintly.
He lifted the blanket and looked at her.
Earlier, she had been wearing a long autumn dress—modest, reaching past her knees, fitted at the waist but not overly tight.
But after rolling around on the bed like a ball of yarn, the skirt had bunched up tightly around her waist, cinching her midsection.
No wonder she couldn't breathe.
He stood up and turned the chandelier back on. The sudden brightness made Elena squint.
Ethan returned to her side, reached behind her, and tried to unzip her dress. But halfway through, he paused.
Leaning over her, he met her hazy gaze, and suddenly, without a word, kissed her deeply, hard and fiercely, before walking out toward the wardrobe.
He returned with one of his shirts.
Helping her sit up, he first draped the shirt over her dress, then reached underneath to locate the zipper and carefully removed the tangled garment.
Afterward, Ethan didn't turn off the lights right away.
Knowing she might start fussing again soon, he decided to get all the preparations out of the way.
"Do you want to shower?"
Elena didn't answer. The moment the constricting dress was off, it felt as though a spell had been broken—she was free. Her whole body relaxed.
But she was just too tired.
Her head throbbed, buzzing like a hive.
Without responding, she flopped back onto the bed, wrapped herself in the blanket, and turned her back to him.
Barely thirty seconds later, another thunderclap rolled across the sky. The spoiled heiress, who'd just turned away, wrinkled her nose at the sound, and—true to form—turned right back to him.
Ethan almost laughed from exasperation.
When Elena next awoke, the storm had passed.
Sunlight filtered through the small gaps in the curtains, casting a faint golden glow. She was still buried deep in the dark-colored comforter, her delicate face half-covered by the soft fabric.
The rays of morning light spilled in, warming the room. At the center of the large bed, the woman stirred, rubbing her throbbing temples as she slowly opened her eyes.
Her memory from the night before was fragmented.
For a moment, Elena thought she was in her own tiny apartment.
But as her eyes adjusted, and she took in the unfamiliar surroundings, her hand froze mid-air.
The room wasn't hers.
She sat up abruptly, and the blanket slipped down, revealing that she was wearing nothing but an oversized men's shirt.
She stared down at herself in horror, clutching the blanket tightly.
Just then, the bedroom door opened.
Ethan stepped in, fresh from his early online meeting, his expression calm.
"You're awake?"
He wasn't the least bit flustered. After all, considering how she'd clung to him all night like a koala, this scene hardly required any sense of propriety now.
He carried a glass of water, his steps unhurried as he came to her side and handed it to her.
"Thirsty?"
The moment the door opened, Elena instinctively tightened the surrounding blanket, peeking over it like a startled animal.
Seeing Ethan in his loungewear, her pupils constricted in shock.
Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the cold, austere decor that matched Ethan Jiang perfectly.
There was no doubt—this was his bedroom.
Still holding the glass, Ethan looked at her pale, tight-lipped face.
"Not thirsty anymore? At five this morning, someone kept whining about being parched."
Elena said nothing.
Because at that exact moment, fragments of the previous night began to resurface—just enough to make her freeze in mortification.
She remembered clutching Ethan's arm, begging him not to leave. Forcing herself into his room. Shamelessly bossing him around…
Elena swallowed hard.
She truly hadn't expected—
That her drunk self… could be this bold?!
Not only had she marched into Ethan Jiang's room—
She had even climbed into his bed?!