Chapter 29: The Kiss

Mu Anyan’s warm, dark eyes rested on her face. The girl seemed to hold no grudge against him; she appeared indifferent to his sudden departure days ago and his coldness throughout the time since.

It turned out he had been overthinking.

He withdrew his gaze and said, with an unreadable expression, "The gift is at home. Come home with me to get it."

The girl paused, glancing toward the distance where she had already checked into the hotel. "But I..."

The man’s gaze swept over her again, locking onto hers with precision. Despite his lack of outward emotion, Jiang Mugui felt a turbulent undercurrent hidden within.

She blinked innocently. "But my friend is waiting for me. I have to be with him tonight."

Mu Anyan raised an eyebrow, a hint of sarcasm in his tone: "Going to a hotel?"

Whether from the alcohol or something else, the girl looked him straight in the eye, speaking with unexpected boldness: "That’s right."

The man looked nonchalant. "And what are you going to do at a hotel?"

The girl looked at his face and suddenly smiled. Without warning, she leaned in close, the scent of alcohol washing over him. "What would you do at a hotel? Play cards?"

She expected him to pull away, as he always had before, but instead, he turned his gaze to meet hers directly.

They were inches apart. His deep, warm eyes burned with an intensity that carried an undeniable sense of oppression. For a fleeting moment, Jiang Mugui was stunned. Then, suppressing her racing heart, she pinched her palm and smiled. "I know you're worried about me, but he’s a good person. Don't worry."

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly. "I once saw him at the police station while I was picking up a friend."

Jiang Mugui fell silent for a moment, looking incredulous.

Then, she lowered her head in disappointment. "Is that so? But I’ve already promised him. It wouldn't be right to break my word..."

She looked back up at Mu Anyan. The man remained impassive, having withdrawn his gaze as if leaving the choice entirely to her. After a long moment, the girl leaned in again. "Are you a bit reluctant?"

Mu Anyan did not avoid her gaze, nor did he answer her question.

The girl stared at his face, unyielding. Even though she found no cracks in his expression, she persisted. "Why don't you help me, then?"

The man asked, "How?"

The girl smiled, her voice soft. "Pretend to be my boyfriend."

The man’s pupils dilated slightly. He couldn't tell if she was drunk, but her tipsy eyes held that same deep, haunting emotion as she spoke: "We’ll go to him together, tell him, and then I can come home with you."

He suddenly felt as if he had fallen into her trap, as if this whole night had been her orchestration. Yet, he immediately dismissed the thought—she couldn't have known he would come to see her tonight.

His expression turned serious as he looked away. "There could be other roles."

The girl understood his meaning perfectly. Having called him "Father" for so many years, that title would certainly come in handy now. But perhaps due to the alcohol or something else, she didn't want that. "He likes me a lot. Honestly, he’s been pestering me for days. If you say that, he might be intimidated today, but he’ll just come back to chase me tomorrow. It’s endless and annoying."

He toyed with a cigarette and smiled. "If he’s so annoying, why are you going to bed with him?"

Jiang Mugui was slightly surprised by his directness, but the look in her eyes deepened. She leaned almost to his ear. "He’s good at it."

The man’s hand stiffened, but the girl didn't look like she was lying or merely spouting nonsense. It sounded like a statement of fact.

Mu Anyan suddenly recalled a day a while back, when she had sat on the bed after coming out of the bathroom. He had spoken to her, and he had noticed a faint tattoo on her thigh. He had recognized it at a glance, but he hadn't asked her about it.

He felt once again that he didn't know her well enough—perhaps he didn't know her at all.

He stared at her, continuing the explicit topic. "Since he’s so good at it, why do you want to dump him?"

She answered briefly: "I'm bored of him."

Seeing the man remain unresponsive, she grew impatient. "If you won't agree, I'm leaving with him. I'll get the gift tomorrow."

With that, she made to open the car door.

"Fine, I'll help you." The man’s emotions remained opaque, but he had agreed. He was too lazy to get out of the car, merely rolling down the window in silence.

The handsome young man standing a few meters away immediately noticed them.

But as Mu Anyan looked over, the young man froze. The car was a luxury vehicle, but not the flashy kind typical of wealthy heirs; it was more business-like, possessing a low-key, opulent air.

When the young man met the gaze of the man inside, he suddenly felt a prickle of fear. In the dark, the man’s composed face exuded a heavy sense of pressure. He looked to be in his thirties, possessing an aura entirely different from the hot-headed youths of his own age. He frowned, instinctively sensing the competitiveness in the man’s eyes—a primitive intuition between males.

"Is this enough?" the girl muttered, but he didn't seem to hear her.

His gaze remained fixed outside. She stared at his sharp, angular profile for a moment, and before he could react, she climbed onto his lap in the driver’s seat and cupped his face, forcing him to meet her eyes.

The scent of perfume and alcohol rushed over him. He looked back at her in surprise.

The deep, haunting emotion in her eyes intensified, something profound and ready to break through. Their breaths mingled, and the atmosphere grew stifling. His heart suddenly panicked, as if sensing what was about to happen, and he instinctively wanted to create some distance.

But the next second, the girl leaned in and pressed a fierce, reckless kiss to his lips.

In that instant, something within Mu Anyan seemed to collapse and shatter.