Wen Yifan's dance performance wasn't lengthy—only three to four minutes. As the final notes faded, her closing pose settled into stillness.
After holding the position for several seconds, Wen Yifan relaxed her posture and bowed to the audience. She could only spare enough energy to glance toward her table, instantly locating Sang Yan's figure among the crowd.
Her breathing came lightly, and she blinked.
After leaving the stage, Wen Yifan quickly returned to her seat.
Sang Yan turned his head, his gaze fixing on her with laser focus.
Wen Yifan's face was fully made up, small rhinestones adorning the corners of her eyes, making her features sparkle under the lights. After colleagues offered various words of praise, she looked at Sang Yan and smiled. "When did you arrive?"
"Just before your performance started." Sang Yan pulled her jacket from the back of the chair and draped it over her shoulders. "What's with this outfit? Could the fabric be any less?"
"…" Wen Yifan couldn't suppress her laugh. "It looks better this way."
Sang Yan didn't respond verbally, helping her adjust the jacket with movements that were neither too gentle nor too rough.
Wen Yifan sat obediently, waiting for his next words. But after a considerable pause, she didn't hear him say anything more. Uncertain whether he was carefully choosing his words, she waited a bit longer before prompting, "Aren't you going to comment on my performance?"
"Didn't you tell me earlier that you couldn't dance anymore?" Sang Yan poured her fresh water and placed the glass in her hand, his expression calm, his praise seeming somewhat perfunctory. "You danced quite well."
"I practiced for a long time," Wen Yifan admitted honestly, "but it's still very amateur."
"How is this amateur?" Sang Yan couldn't fathom her standards. He rested his elbow on the table edge, propping his face, his gaze constantly trained on her. "Also, isn't it cold to dance wearing so little in the middle of winter?"
Wen Yifan shook her head. "There's heating."
After that exchange, Sang Yan didn't mention her dancing again.
The realization struck Wen Yifan suddenly—this man was extremely cold-hearted.
She consoled herself, reasoning that "danced quite well" should be considered a very positive evaluation.
For the following period, Wen Yifan could sense from her peripheral vision that Sang Yan's gaze never strayed from her. After this happened repeatedly, she turned to look at him, somewhat puzzled. "Aren't you watching the performances?"
Sang Yan's eyebrow lifted slightly as he gave a crisp "Mm."
"…"
Sensing he genuinely wasn't interested in the entertainment, Wen Yifan didn't force the issue. But worried he might be bored, she would watch performances for stretches, then pause to chat with him.
Sang Yan responded intermittently, absent-mindedly playing with her fingers.
Before the party's conclusion came the awards ceremony.
Wen Yifan's performance won second place in the popularity award—a prize of 3,000 yuan. Her primary purpose had been surprising Sang Yan; she hadn't anticipated winning an award with her skill level.
After accepting the red envelope on stage, Wen Yifan directly handed it to Sang Yan upon returning.
He looked at her questioningly. "Why are you giving it to me?"
"I originally wanted to dance for you to see." Wen Yifan's eyes curved downward, seeming to contain dazzling light, her honesty complete. "So the prize money should go to you too."
"…" Sang Yan hadn't expected that one day this girl would pamper him like this. After an extended pause, he suddenly smiled. "Alright. I'll keep it then."
Before leaving the building, Wen Yifan had intended to change out of her ballet dress before heading home.
Unexpectedly, Sang Yan acted contrary to his usual behavior and refused to let her change. He wrapped his long coat around her, covering every exposed inch thoroughly, then pulled her toward the car.
Wen Yifan didn't overthink it, assuming he was simply bored from lingering too long and wanted to go home early.
In the car, Wen Yifan's nose had turned slightly red from the cold. She smoothed her skirt and glanced in Sang Yan's direction. Now that they were alone, she again felt his reactions had been too perfunctory.
I like an unfaithful scumbag.
She mentioned again, "This is the New Year's gift I prepared for you in advance."
Sang Yan spared her a glance, replying casually, "I know."
Wen Yifan: "…"
But indeed, it probably didn't require an extravagant reaction.
After all, Sang Yan wasn't someone who typically dispensed compliments.
Having internalized this understanding again, Wen Yifan felt she shouldn't be so petty. Her mood stabilized, no longer affected by this matter. Shortly after, she remembered something else and, calculating the timeline, asked, "By the way, when do you think would be a good time for us to move?"
Sang Yan had previously mentioned that after their current lease expired, they would relocate to his apartment—the one that had burned before.
At that time, Wen Yifan had belatedly realized something.
This apartment of his had been under renovation for two years, yet Sang Yan had never mentioned moving.
Sang Yan replied casually, "When do you want to move?"
"If we move before March, then how about that period after the New Year?" Wen Yifan glanced at him, speaking softly. "My schedule should be a bit freer then."
"Okay."
Thinking about contacting moving companies and packing belongings, Wen Yifan felt it would be a substantial project. In this moment, Sang Yan added, "Just pack your luggage, don't worry about the rest."
Hearing this, Wen Yifan paused, then smiled. "Alright."
With this decision made, Wen Yifan recalled something from long ago. Back then, because of her sleepwalking behavior, Sang Yan had said he would stay until she repaid her debt to him.
But he'd never specifically explained how to repay it.
"By the way, about the debt you mentioned before—" Uncertain whether he remembered, she continued, "We haven't resolved that yet, have we?"
After a moment of silence, Sang Yan calmly made an "Ah" sound.
This reaction revealed nothing, and Wen Yifan suspected he'd long forgotten about it, so she didn't dwell on it. Soon, the car arrived at the parking lot. They exited and returned home.
Wen Yifan removed her coat, hanging it on the nearby rack, and had just slipped off her shoes, intending to shower.
Suddenly—
Sang Yan abruptly grasped her waist from behind, pressing his body against hers, pinning her entire frame against the door. As if he'd been restraining himself for an eternity, his movements were forceful, his body molded tightly to hers.
She was caught completely off-guard and instinctively turned her head.
Sang Yan's burning lips had already descended on the back of her neck, traveling downward, wandering over her bare skin. His voice emerged low, as if speaking in whispered confession. "Didn't you ask me to evaluate?"
"…"
As he spoke, Sang Yan's other hand moved upward, fingertips caressing gently. He bit her shoulder blade as if venting long-suppressed desire, his force seeming rough.
The ballet dress was form-fitting, and with this movement, Wen Yifan's neck tilted back slightly, clearly outlining her curves. She felt the dual sensation of ticklishness and slight pain. "Why are you biting?"
Sang Yan ignored her question, continuing these ambiguous and heavily passionate movements. After an extended while, he straightened, his nose lightly brushing against her hair, nibbling on her ear before speaking close to it.
"…I want to hide you away."
From the moment he saw her on stage.
He wanted to pull her back into his world, to hide all her radiance in his embrace, preventing anyone else from seeing. Yet he also felt that this was how she should appear in everyone's eyes.
Radiating brilliance.
Before Wen Yifan could process this, her body melted under his actions. She felt Sang Yan's hands kneading her body, pulling down her tights, and she gasped, "Don't tear them…"
She looked at him again, meeting his dark eyes filled with barely contained fire.
Sang Yan's features were rugged, his eyes sharp and unrestrained, appearing indifferent and disdainful when silent. His lips were thin with a straight curve, now filled with emotion—a strange amalgamation of coldness and desire.
"Why not?"
His movements became more unrestrained, touching every sensitive spot on her body.
"It's all one piece," Wen Yifan felt her body floating in mid-air, her eyes gradually misting over. She tried maintaining vocal steadiness, holding back a whimper. "…it'll break."
Staring at her expression, Sang Yan uncontrollably kissed her lips, his tongue entering, intertwining with hers.
Accompanied by muffled words: "Then teach me."
Amid the passion, understanding suddenly dawned—why Sang Yan hadn't let her change out of the dress. The fleeting thought crossed Wen Yifan's mind before she immediately pulled him back into their intimate moment.
Wen Yifan felt herself guiding him, willingly, gradually unveiling herself.
And then offering herself up completely.
Sang Yan's body thrust in, filled with possessiveness, accompanied by a very clear sentence.
"Time to repay the debt."
This time, possibly considering her physical limits, Sang Yan wasn't as unrestrained as the previous night, but his force exceeded all previous occasions. Afterward, he carried Wen Yifan to the bathroom to clean up.
Before sleep claimed her, Wen Yifan vaguely felt Sang Yan place a kiss on her forehead.
Whether she misheard or for some other reason, he seemed to have uttered:
"—Dance for me at our wedding too."
This year, Wen Yifan's New Year holiday spanned from the first to the third day of the lunar calendar. On New Year's Eve, after finishing work, she was collected by Sang Yan and brought home, where he urged her to pack clothes and luggage.
Sang Yan observed her packing and mentioned, "We'll stay for three nights."
Wen Yifan nodded acknowledgment.
"I haven't told my parents you're staying over yet." Sang Yan rubbed her head forcefully, speaking casually. "If you're uncomfortable, just tell me. We can come back to sleep after the New Year's Eve dinner."
Wen Yifan pulled his hand away. "You've messed up my hair."
"Listen to me properly." Sang Yan was particularly mischievous, replacing his hand to continue the disruption. "Why are you only paying attention to your hairstyle, have you no conscience?"
Wen Yifan looked up, also standing on tiptoe to forcefully mess up his hair in retaliation.
Sang Yan raised an eyebrow, amused.
Wen Yifan muttered, "You're so childish."
Doing exactly what she told him not to do.
As soon as she retaliated, Sang Yan stopped. He helped fix her hair instead, finding it amusing. "Who's childish?"
Wen Yifan also gradually stopped. Thinking about her previous words, she pondered momentarily before asking, "So if I stay at your house, where will I sleep?"
Sang Yan glanced at her. "In the same room as my sister."
Wen Yifan immediately nodded. "That's fine."
"…" This time she agreed so quickly that Sang Yan inexplicably felt displeased. "No, do you have something to say to that brat? You're not happy sharing a room with me?"
"I do." Wen Yifan's voice was gentle, directly ignoring the question of whether she was "happy" or not, and began worrying instead. "But—"
"What?"
"I'm a bit afraid I might sleepwalk." Wen Yifan's concern was genuine. "What if I scare Zhizhi?"
"…" Sang Yan stared at her, feeling like this girl was acting like a scumbag, and abruptly said, "We've lived together for so long, how come I never saw you worry about scaring me?"
Wen Yifan looked at him steadily.
They stared at each other for three full seconds.
Wen Yifan looked away, continuing to pack clothes into the bag. "Well, I can't help that."
"…"
Afraid of keeping Sang Yan's parents waiting excessively long, Wen Yifan didn't spend much time packing and quickly finished preparations. After leaving, sitting in Sang Yan's car, she belatedly felt nervousness creeping in, fidgeting throughout the entire journey.
Probably sensing her emotional state, Sang Yan said casually, "Relax."
Wen Yifan: "Huh?"
"My parents will only thank you," Sang Yan stated matter-of-factly, "for letting me find a partner."
"…"
Because Sang Yan had mentioned similar things repeatedly, this time Wen Yifan couldn't help asking, "Why are Uncle and Auntie so eager to find you a partner? You're only 26, not that old. I feel it's quite early."
She genuinely felt that getting married before 35 wasn't considered late.
"The better the conditions, the harder to find." Sang Yan's appearance radiated arrogance, his tone overbearing and wild. "Understand?"
"…"
Wen Yifan was accustomed to his demeanor and didn't say more, instead thinking about what to say upon arrival. She was terrified of leaving a negative impression and started extracting her notepad, typing various phrases as if writing a script.
At a red light, Sang Yan glanced in her direction.
Noticing the content on her screen, his lips curved slightly upward. He didn't interrupt her actions.
Soon they arrived at the building where Sang Yan's family lived.
Wen Yifan retrieved the gifts she'd bought from the trunk, silently reciting the script she'd just written in the car. Her expression remained normal, attempting to appear as composed and calm as usual.
Leave a good impression on Sang Yan's parents.
Sang Yan watched her with evident interest.
They took the elevator up together.
Sang Yan extracted his keys from his pocket. Noticing her tightly pressed lips, he squeezed her fingertips comfortingly. "Alright, don't be nervous. I'm here to make you look good by comparison."
"…" Wen Yifan didn't understand what he meant.
Opening the door, Wen Yifan followed Sang Yan inside.
The interior was spacious and bright. As soon as they entered the foyer, Wen Yifan could see Sang Zhi sitting on the sofa watching television. Hearing the movement, she turned her head, immediately smiling—revealing the two dimples at the corners of her lips.
Sang Zhi obediently called out, "Sister Yifan."
Wen Yifan also smiled and greeted her warmly.
Sang Yan looked at his sister, speaking coolly. "Didn't see me?"
Sang Zhi pretended not to hear, patting the space beside her, enthusiastically addressing Wen Yifan. "Sister Yifan, sit here."
"…"
The next moment, Sang Yan's parents also emerged from the kitchen.
Wen Yifan had met Sang Yan's mother, Li Ping, not only on the night of the fireworks show but also during the two occasions they were called in for suspected early dating. Sang Yan's side was always represented by Li Ping.
But Wen Yifan didn't know if she still remembered her.
Perhaps Sang Yan had mentioned it beforehand; Li Ping smiled and called out, "It's Yifan, right?"
Wen Yifan hurriedly nodded. "Yes, Uncle and Auntie, Happy New Year." As she spoke, she handed over the gifts she'd brought. "These are New Year gifts I prepared for you."
Li Ping wiped her hands on her apron and accepted them, her expression extremely gentle. "Next time just come over, no need to bring gifts. Sit for a while, your uncle and I will be done soon, then we can eat."
Wen Yifan offered, "Let me help you."
Sang Yan's father, Sang Rong, said, "No need, we're almost done. You watch some TV with Zhizhi first."
The biological son Sang Yan, who had been systematically ignored throughout this entire exchange, seemed unconcerned and lazily spoke up to assert his presence, breaking their warm atmosphere. "Then can I watch TV too?"
As soon as Sang Yan spoke, the atmosphere cooled dramatically.
The two elders stopped talking.
Sang Zhi watched like an entertained spectator, enjoying the show immensely.
Not understanding why the atmosphere had shifted so abruptly, Wen Yifan inexplicably recalled how Sang Yan was always scolded harshly every time he called home. Especially during the period he was injured, she'd even heard Li Ping declare extremely angrily on the phone, "If you don't come back, your father and I will have another child."
Sang Yan had cheekily replied, "Fine, I'd quite like to have a little brother."
"…"
Wen Yifan instinctively glanced toward Sang Yan, then looked back at Mr. and Mrs. Sang.
Just as she was contemplating whether to say something—
Li Ping's smile faded somewhat as she looked Sang Yan up and down. "You can."
As if harboring long-suppressed opinions about him, Sang Rong seemed to have coordinated with Li Ping beforehand. He walked over, placed his hand on Sang Yan's shoulder, and opened the front door. "Go back to your place to watch."
"…"
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