Chapter 1 Is This a Good Time?

Siyao skillfully made her way to his private room, sidestepping the long bag. At the door, two companions who had come out with Xingjue winked and grinned, “Sister Yao, here to pick up Brother Jue?”

“Is it convenient now?” Siyao asked. Half a month ago, she’d forgotten to check before picking him up, barged in, and happened to interrupt Xingjue’s fun—he’d thrown a bottle at her, almost disfiguring her. She’d learned her lesson this time.

With their confirmation, she knocked and entered.

In his arms, Wen Sui, who’d been following him for a few months, looked thoroughly disheveled, while Xingjue was impeccably dressed in his suit, his eyes slightly glazed with drink, untouched by desire, lips curved in a tender smile, softer than usual.

But that gentleness was only a facade; the real Xingjue was fickle and, above all, cruel and hard to please.

Siyao paused at the doorway, her voice gentle, “Tomorrow is the family banquet. It wouldn’t be good to come home too late.”

Xingjue slipped his hand from around Wen Sui’s waist, but didn’t move, still seated with his legs propped lazily on the coffee table, his demeanor both indolent and gentle. “How late is late?”

“It’s already midnight.”

“A-Jue promised to spend the night with me—he’s not going anywhere,” Wen Sui interjected coquettishly, her voice mingling with Siyao’s.

Xingjue ignored her, leaning in to whisper softly to Wen Sui.

Siyao stood there watching for a moment, then, after some thought, turned to leave.

“Is it not late now?” Xingjue’s voice came, louder this time, as if speaking to himself. Siyao looked back, “It’s not late. You can stay a while longer if you wish.”

Half an hour later, Xingjue emerged, slipping an arm around Siyao’s waist. “What were you chatting about, so happily?”

Siyao replied obediently, “Nothing much. Are you finished?”

“Did you drive here?” Xingjue didn’t answer, but asked instead, his hand drifting inside her coat, grazing her sensitive waistline with just the right amount of pressure.

His touch was ambiguous, his technique lingering; his words and actions made it clear he wasn’t done inside and intended to continue in the car.

“Perhaps… you should go back in,” Siyao suggested. Ordinarily, she would endure it if she could, but her mild fever hadn’t abated, and she couldn’t bring herself to tolerate more.

Xingjue withdrew his hand, exchanged a few indifferent words with the two companions, and strode out.

Siyao’s steps were small, trailing a few paces behind. She overheard the two from earlier, laughing openly, not caring if she heard. They spoke of Siyao as a spinster who could endure anything, weak and easy to bully—any other legitimate fiancée would have slapped someone long ago. Xingjue’s flagrant debauchery was, in their view, all because of her softness and incompetence.

Siyao wrapped her coat tighter around herself, indifferent, and followed Xingjue out slowly.

She thought her veiled refusal would help her avoid trouble.

But Xingjue was clearly in a foul mood tonight.

She had barely settled into the driver’s seat when the backrest was abruptly reclined from behind. Suddenly, she was lying flat, face-to-face with him.

His eyes were deep and dark, devoid of the earlier gentleness he’d shown Wen Sui—only a naked, flickering hunger remained.

With a silent sigh, Siyao fished a condom from her pocket and handed it to him.

Xingjue raised an eyebrow, letting out a low, ambiguous chuckle.

When she could bear it no longer, she whispered hoarsely, “I have a fever.”

“Are you dead?” Xingjue’s voice was rough and dismissive, utterly unconcerned.

Afterward, the driver’s seat was taken by a chauffeur.

Siyao leaned wearily against the window, checking her watch.

Three o’clock.

She’d have to be up by six for the family banquet.

The alarm didn’t ring. Siyao woke at eight, fiddled with it for a while, then realized she’d forgotten to set it.

She put the matter aside and got up to direct the household staff in preparing the midday banquet.

Near noon, Siyao went outside to stand at the head of the servants, bowing with a serene smile to the family patriarch, “Grandfather.”

Old Master Xing replied, “You’d have been better off waiting inside.”

Siyao smiled, “It’s only right.”

He said nothing more, but his satisfaction with her propriety was evident as he stepped inside.

The rest of the family followed.

“You’re Xingjue’s fiancée now, not a servant.” A familiar male voice cut through, and Siyao looked up, meeting his gaze—deep, restrained, swirling with unspoken emotion.

The man before her was Xing Ke, Xingjue’s elder brother.

The procession abruptly slowed, ears pricked, as if everyone was waiting to hear what the two of them would say in front of so many eyes.

Siyao sighed softly, stepped back to avoid Xing Ke’s gaze, and said, “As long as the family is satisfied, that’s all that matters.”