The air stood still.
Half of Sang Yan’s face was buried in her hair, his breath brushing lightly against her ear. His right hand gripped her wrist, resting it before him. The touch was deceptively tender—almost reverent—but beneath that gentleness lay restraint. She couldn’t move.
It tore through the last of her composure.
Wei Yifan’s body stiffened, fists faintly trembling. Her breath caught; she didn’t even dare exhale. She had never been this close to a man before, not like this—his warmth pressed so near, his heartbeat faintly thudding against her back. Her face flushed crimson.
She was losing control of herself.
When her lungs finally begged for air, she exhaled quietly, the faint sound loud in the heavy silence.
Still, she dared not move again. She didn’t dare look back. The thought of meeting Sang Yan’s dark, knowing eyes—awake, watchful—made her pulse race faster.
It was absurd.
A fragile illusion she desperately clung to:
As long as she didn’t turn around, he wouldn’t wake.
She tried to steady her breathing, to read his through the rise and fall of his chest behind her. Minutes dragged on, thick with tension. The rhythm of his breathing remained slow, unbroken. But her anxiety only grew.
She couldn’t wait forever.
Summoning every ounce of courage, Wei Yifan decided to try again.
Her gaze lowered to the hand encircling her wrist. With her free hand, she began to pry his fingers open—one by one, careful, deliberate—like disarming a trap that could snap shut at any second.
When his grip finally loosened, she placed his hand gently back at his side. Relief flickered through her chest.
She hesitated, then risked a glance.
His bangs fell messily across his forehead, softening his usual sharpness. His eyes remained closed, lashes dark against pale skin. He looked almost peaceful—almost harmless.
Hope stirred.
Holding her breath, Wei Yifan began inching toward the edge of the bed.
Ten centimeters.
Five.
Almost there—
Then came his voice, low and hoarse, like smoke.
“Wei Yifan?”
The sound froze her in place.
For several seconds, she didn’t move. Then, with mechanical slowness, she turned her head.
Their eyes met.
The world fell silent again.
Sang Yan was awake—clear-eyed, calm, but his gaze carried that same unreadable depth that always unnerved her. He sat up, glancing briefly around before fixing his eyes back on her.
“Why are you here?”
Before she could answer, he spoke again, his voice still rough from sleep, each word laced with quiet dominance.
“Explain yourself.”
Wei Yifan closed her eyes briefly, inwardly sighing.
She had been so close to escaping. Just a few more steps—and then, of course, he had to wake up.
All that nervous planning for nothing.
Perhaps it would’ve been easier to just face him from the start.
“You were dreaming,” she said finally, deciding to stall, hoping to catch him between sleep and wakefulness. “You’ll be fine once you’re fully awake.”
Sang Yan raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“Do I look like an idiot to you?”
“Mm,” Wei Yifan murmured absentmindedly, already walking toward the door. “Go back to sleep. You won’t look like one when you wake up.”
He stared at her, speechless.
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Back in the master bedroom, Wei Yifan locked the door and collapsed against it, heart racing. She pressed an ear to the wood, listening for movement. Nothing.
No footsteps.
Only then did she allow herself to breathe again.
A few minutes later, she gathered herself and went into the bathroom. She needed distance—space to think. She couldn’t face him like this. Not now. She’d leave before he came out and deal with the fallout later, when she had regained her calm.
After composing herself, she grabbed her bag and opened the door quietly. Sang Yan’s room remained closed, but the bathroom door opposite hers was open. She could hear the sound of running water.
He was there.
Wei Yifan froze, then forced herself to keep walking.
The water stopped.
Just as she reached the bathroom door, Sang Yan turned his head toward her. Droplets still clung to his face, sliding down to his collar. His expression unreadable, he reached out suddenly—catching her arm and pulling her closer.
She stumbled forward, her breath catching.
Their eyes met again. This time, his gaze held amusement, sharp and knowing.
“Running away so quickly?”
Wei Yifan schooled her features into calm indifference.
“What?”
He said nothing, waiting. The silence between them stretched taut.
Finally, she spoke, voice steady but guarded.
“I’m not pretending nothing happened. I just have an interview this morning—it’s almost time. We can… talk tonight.”
Sang Yan’s lips curved slightly.
“Hmm?” he murmured, drawing out each syllable, his tone low and dangerous. “No. We can’t.”
Wei Yifan’s words faltered. Her heart skipped, her breath caught again—
and the air stood still once more.
Sang Yan released her arm and leaned slightly forward, his gaze steady and close. Water droplets still clung to his lashes, catching the morning light. The corners of his mouth curved faintly, dangerously soft.
“First,” he murmured, “tell me what was going on with you this morning.”
Wei Yifan met his gaze calmly.
“Sleepwalking,” she said evenly. “It’s a behavior I can’t control.”
His smile deepened, lazy and knowing.
“Didn’t you say before that you wouldn’t enter my room?”
“This time, I don’t know what happened.”
Seeing his expression sharpen slightly, she softened her tone, offering quiet sincerity.
“I’m sorry. This was my fault. It won’t happen again.”
Sang Yan’s voice turned languid.
“You’re making me quite scared, you know.”
“Huh?” Wei Yifan blinked.
“After all,” he continued, each word deliberately slow, “I don’t know what extent you might go to. Who knows—one day, I might wake up…”
His tone dropped, shamelessly suggestive.
“And find that my chastity has been ruthlessly taken by you.”
Wei Yifan’s brow twitched.
“…”
He wasn’t done.
“You don’t have to be so—” Sang Yan paused for effect, eyes glinting—“covetous of me.”
“…”
Could this man be reasonable for once?
Wei Yifan took a slow breath, keeping her voice steady.
“Let’s stick to the facts. I only fell asleep on your bed. I didn’t touch you at all.”
“How do you know?” he countered smoothly.
“I woke up before you did.”
Her patience was thinning. His teasing, his smirk—it all grated on her nerves.
“In fact,” she said, irritation slipping through, “you’re the one with bad sleeping habits. When I tried to get up, you pulled me back—”
The realization hit her mid-sentence. Her voice faltered.
“Oh?” Sang Yan tilted his head, expression brightening with mock curiosity. “Pulled you back, and then what?”
His tone was light, teasing, dangerous.
“Go on,” he coaxed. “Finish what you were saying.”
“…”
Wei Yifan pursed her lips, forcing composure.
“Anyway, in your unconscious state, you also had physical contact with me,” she said, fair and calm. “So we can consider it even.”
Sang Yan raised an eyebrow.
“Even for what?”
“For the time I hugged you while sleepwalking before.”
“…”
He gave a soft, drawn-out chuckle.
“Oh. So that’s how you want to settle it.”
Wei Yifan realized too late that her words sounded worse aloud.
“But isn’t it still me who’s at a disadvantage?”
His voice dropped, arrogance creeping in.
“It’s obvious which one of us has feelings for the other, isn’t it?”
“…”
Wei Yifan’s mind went blank. His words struck too close.
Before, she had dismissed such remarks as nonsense. Now, guilt flickered beneath her calm—an uncomfortable, unspoken truth.
She steadied herself, her tone cool.
“I’m really in a hurry today. Let’s talk about this when I come back tonight.”
Sang Yan studied her quietly. His gaze traveled slowly from her eyes to her lips, as though searching for something hidden.
After a pause, he smiled faintly.
“Alright.”
It was the closest thing to mercy.
Wei Yifan didn’t linger. She turned and left at once, escaping that suffocating air between them.
But once outside, she didn’t feel relief—only a pounding headache.
She would have to face this again tonight.
Except… what was there to resolve?
It wasn’t a scandalous night, nor drunken misconduct. Just a misunderstanding—she had wandered into the wrong room and shared half a bed with him, nothing more.
At most, it was like… renting half of his bed.
She sighed.
Maybe she should rent him half of hers next time to even the score.
The thought made her almost laugh—and then groan.
At the TV station, Wei Yifan pushed everything from her mind and threw herself into work. She requested equipment and a van, then called on the only colleague available—Mu Chengyun—to join her for an interview.
As they walked toward the parking lot, Wei Yifan scrolled through her phone, half-listening as Mu Chengyun started talking beside her.
“Sister Yifan, are you free after work tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” She frowned slightly, thinking. “Not sure. Why?”
“A senior I know just had a baby girl,” he said, scratching his head sheepishly. “I want to get a gift, but I’m hopeless with that stuff.”
“A baby girl?” Wei Yifan said. “Ask Sister Zhen Yu—she has a daughter. She’d know better than I would.”
“…”
He went quiet for a few seconds before muttering, “Alright.”
As they neared the car, he suddenly leaned forward, squinting at her face.
“Sister Yifan, there’s something on your face,” he said, pointing to his own cheek. “Here—it looks like dust.”
“Ah.” Wei Yifan took a tissue and wiped the spot he mentioned. “Here?”
“A bit lower… no, to the left.”
Seeing her fumble, he smiled and reached out, taking the tissue from her hand.
“Let me help you wipe it off.”
“…”
Before she could react, he was already reaching forward.
The closeness made her uncomfortable. She instinctively stepped back, smiling politely.
“It’s fine. I’ll handle it later.”
Mu Chengyun froze, his hand awkwardly retreating. He rubbed his nose, embarrassed.
“Okay.”
They got into the car in silence. Wei Yifan glanced into the rearview mirror, quickly wiping the smudge herself before starting the engine.
“Chengyun, check the equipment first,” she said calmly.
“Alright,” he replied obediently.
The radio hummed softly, filling the silence with distant news chatter.
Then, casually, Mu Chengyun spoke again.
“By the way, this senior of mine—he’s actually a classmate of Senior Sang. Got married right after graduation, and now he’s a dad.”
“That’s nice,” Wei Yifan said, eyes on the road.
“Sister Yifan, how did you and Senior Sang meet? I remember you went to Yihe University.”
“High school classmates.”
“Oh, so you’ve known each other for years.” He chuckled. “I thought you were in a relationship. Senior Sang treats you… well, kind of specially.”
“Mm.”
“So you’re just really close friends,” Mu Chengyun concluded, sounding relieved—and a little wistful.
Wei Yifan didn’t correct him. She simply smiled.
“Then, do you know if Senior Sang liked someone in high school?” Mu Chengyun’s tone grew curious. “I heard he pursued someone for years but never succeeded. My senior said he’s always wondered what kind of person could make someone like Sang chase that long.”
Wei Yifan’s hands tightened faintly on the steering wheel.
“I’m not too sure,” she replied lightly.
“At graduation,” Mu Chengyun went on, oblivious, “someone joked that the unattainable is always the most beautiful. And you know what Senior Sang said?”
Wei Yifan glanced sideways, her heartbeat slowing for no reason she could name.
“He said—” Mu Chengyun’s smile was open, innocent.
“‘What else? Do you think I’m capable of being such a devoted person?’”
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