The riverside apartment was worth every inch of its price—calling it a luxury residence would not be an exaggeration. One elevator served a single unit, taking residents directly to their door.

The moment the elevator doors opened, Yun Lü, dressed in a short skirt, was already waiting. When she saw Su Hao, she immediately stepped forward.

“Su Hao, you’re here!”

Her voice was soft and sweet. Su Hao handed her the gift bag.
“Just a small present.”

Yun Lü took it and peeked inside.

“River City embroidery—oh, I love this. It’s so special. Thank you.”
As she spoke, she pulled Su Hao along. Yun Lü’s hand was soft; Su Hao’s was slender and smooth, with only a slight callus between her thumb and index finger—the result of years of holding a knife.

The first floor was lit, but empty. Voices drifted faintly from upstairs.

“Let’s go up. Everyone’s already there—Zhou Yang too.”
Yun Lü smiled and winked at Su Hao.

Su Hao returned a small smile. She understood—Yun Lü was just letting her know Zhou Yang was present, so she wouldn’t worry.

They climbed the spiral staircase. Upstairs was a spacious entertainment room. Yun Lü opened the door; music was playing, and the air was thick with alcohol.

“Ta-da! Guess who’s here?” Yun Lü announced dramatically.

The people chatting on the sofas all looked over. It was mostly the same group as last time—except Meng Ying and Xu Dian were absent. There was an additional woman smoking, a female actress Su Hao immediately recognized—Li Yuan’er—and a refined-looking man.

Yun Lü introduced them.
“Liu Yan, Li Yuan’er, and Li Yao.”

“Hello,” Su Hao greeted them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zhou Yang sitting on the coffee table, a chocolate biscuit stick in hand. He turned to look at her—his shirt collar open wide, posture lazy and unruly, every bit the carefree playboy.

For a moment, time seemed to blur. Su Hao felt as if she were seeing him back in her sophomore year of high school—only now he was more mature, his eyes full of practiced charm.

Suddenly, it clicked.

That familiar frivolousness—she’d seen it before. Back in college, when she’d been chasing him, he’d worn that same careless, flirtatious expression. It was impossible to tell what was real and what wasn’t.

“Come on, Su Hao, sit with us,” Yun Lü called, pulling her toward the women.

Su Hao sat beside Yun Lü, the birthday girl. Li Yi and Jiang Yu sat nearby, cards in hand, nodding at her in greeting. Jiang Yu casually pushed a plate of fruit toward her.

Whether they were being extra friendly or just polite, Su Hao couldn’t tell.

Liu Yan poured her a glass of wine. The liquid was crystal clear. Su Hao had just reached out when a large hand intercepted it.

Zhou Yang replaced it with a glass of cantaloupe juice, pressing it into her palm.
“Drink this.”

Liu Yan clicked her tongue.
“Zhou Yang, what are you doing? She can’t even have a drink?”

“And who are you to tell her what to drink?” Zhou Yang shot back.

He stood up, long leg braced against the coffee table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, smiling lazily.
“I brought her here. I’m responsible.”

Liu Yan snorted and took another drag from her cigarette, uninterested in arguing.

She glanced at Su Hao. Su Hao smiled politely and said softly,
“I can’t drink alcohol. But it’s not because he said so—I just don’t want to get drunk.”

Liu Yan instantly reassessed her.
Pretty, gentle—and emotionally intelligent.

She lifted her gaze to Zhou Yang, a hint of provocation in her eyes.

Zhou Yang dragged over a chair and sat down, his gaze sweeping over Su Hao without restraint. He chuckled softly, took a cigarette, and tapped it against Liu Yan’s to light it.

The room was dim. Men and women spoke in low voices. Smoke, alcohol, and perfume mingled in the air, creating an unmistakably intimate atmosphere.

Su Hao wasn’t used to places that stirred desire so easily. Yet every time she looked up, she caught sight of Zhou Yang’s sharply defined face. In this environment, even the way he bit down on a cigarette seemed seductive—his brows carrying an almost invisible hook.

Li Yuan’er said something teasing.

Zhou Yang raised an eyebrow.
“What? Still thinking about my tie?”

The room erupted in laughter. Li Yuan’er rolled her eyes, but her ears turned red.

At that moment, a housekeeper came in with a box of biscuits—apparently the chocolate ones Zhou Yang had been holding earlier—and placed a small transparent box on the table, filled with folded slips of paper.

After she left, Zhou Yang pulled the box to the center.

“Let’s play a game. Everyone draws a slip. Matching numbers pair up and eat this chocolate biscuit together.”
He held up a chocolate stick between his fingers.

“How do you eat it?” Li Yuan’er asked.

Zhou Yang smiled faintly.
“How do you think? You tell me.”

Liu Yan crossed her long legs.
“Each person bites one end, obviously. No wonder Xu Dian and Meng Ying didn’t come—would Xu Dian ever let Meng Ying do this?”

Jiang Yu spat out a grape seed.
“And would I let my wife play?”

“You take her place,” Li Yi said lazily.

They began drawing slips.

Su Hao hesitated, but Yun Lü handed her one with a smile.
“It’s fine—just for fun. There are lots of people. It probably won’t be us.”

That made sense. Su Hao relaxed. Since she was already here, being stiff would only make things awkward.

The first number was eight.

Liu Yan and Li Yao matched. Without waiting, Liu Yan bit one end of the biscuit and bent down toward Li Yao. He coughed, startled by her boldness, but bit the other end.

The chocolate stick grew shorter and shorter.

Crunch.

Liu Yan bit it off first, shoved Li Yao away, and spread her hands triumphantly.

Cheers erupted. Zhou Yang clapped first, others egging Li Yao on.

Round after round passed. Neither Su Hao nor Zhou Yang was picked.

Then Su Hao accidentally grabbed two slips.

She hesitated and looked at Zhou Yang.

He sipped his drink and smiled.
“Two?”

“Yes.”

“Keep them. Might hit,” he said casually.

She sat quietly, legs together, watching others play. Her skirt slid slightly upward when she leaned forward, hair brushing against her knees.

Zhou Yang crushed a mint candy between his teeth.

“Six,” he announced.

Su Hao unfolded her slips—one was seven. The other read 6.

Her heart skipped. She looked around—no one else reacted.

Then Zhou Yang set down his glass, unfolded his slip, and pressed it onto the table.
“Six?”

Their slips lay side by side.

He took a chocolate stick into his mouth, walked over, pushed Li Yao aside, and sat next to her. His knee brushed hers. The scent of fir filled the air.

Under everyone’s gaze, Su Hao bit one end of the biscuit.

She froze.

Zhou Yang moved closer, eyes locked on her bare, unpainted lips—soft, peach-like.

He took two more bites. She still didn’t move.

He tugged her arm slightly. She leaned forward involuntarily. Chocolate melted on her tongue.

Suddenly, she remembered Liu Yan’s decisiveness.

She bit down hard, taking most of it in one bite. Their lips brushed.

Crunch.

It broke.

Relief washed over her. She turned away and finished the biscuit quickly.

Her hair had fallen loose.

Zhou Yang watched her chew—then, without warning, took the remaining chocolate from his mouth, cupped her face, lifted her chin, and kissed her.

Su Hao froze.

Then she struggled—but his other hand locked around her waist, pulling her closer. His tongue pressed in, unrestrained.

Hot. Intense.

The room was dark. Gasps echoed.

Zhou Yang had never lost control like this. Her resistance only fueled him.

“Fuck, Zhou Yang, are you insane?” Jiang Yu shouted.

Finally, he pulled back, forehead resting against hers. Her eyes were wet, unfocused—softly, dangerously feminine.

He wiped the moisture from her lips, thumb brushing over them.

She regained her composure and pushed him away.
“I’m going to the restroom.”

She stood and walked off, steady despite the slight weakness in her legs.

In the brightly lit restroom, she splashed cold water on her face until she was fully awake.

In the mirror, her cheeks were flushed, lips swollen.

She frowned.

Then her phone buzzed—messages from Li Xiu.

“Zhou Yang always treats his girlfriends like this.”

A video followed.

She watched.

A young woman tugged Zhou Yang’s tie, pouting playfully.
“You’re dishonest. Why didn’t you take me on your business trip?”

He laughed lazily.
“Guess.”

His face finally came into view—handsome, charming, careless.

“You need to stop filming so much,” he said lightly.

The video ended.

Su Hao stared at her reflection.

So that was his type.

And earlier—his kiss, his smile—it was just him hooking his finger, waiting for her to bite.

She washed her face again, harder this time.

Her lip stung—he’d bitten it open.

She left the restroom.

Outside, voices drifted in.

“You know she’s that girl who chased you back in River City.”

“You didn’t even like her back then—now you’re interested?”

“You’ll crash and burn.”

She stepped out.

The men froze.

She said nothing, calmly took a sip of juice, wiped her lips.

Zhou Yang grabbed her wrist.
“Come out. We need to talk.”

She glanced at his hand. Coldly.
“Let go.”

He did.

“I should go,” she told Yun Lü softly. “Happy birthday.”

And she left.

Zhou Yang followed her downstairs, watched her get into a taxi, then called President Zeng.

“Talk to Su Hao tomorrow. Raise her salary. Don’t let her quit.”

That night, he waited outside her building.

And for the first time—

Zhou Yang realized he was no longer the one in control.

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