192: Chapter 192 Regret?

The morning light squeezed through the gap in the curtains that hadn't been fully closed, drawing a long, thin golden line on the cream-colored carpet.

Jiang Chen woke first.

When he opened his eyes, he was dazed for a few seconds.

An unfamiliar ceiling, an unfamiliar angle of light, and an unfamiliar weight in the crook of his arm.

Then, the memories of last night surged back like a tide.

The scent of tea, the haze of alcohol, her eyes soaked in some ancient emotion, and her slightly trembling fingers as she unfastened his cufflinks one by one.

He looked down at the person in his arms.

Lu Manqi was lying on her side, half her face buried in the hollow of his shoulder, her breathing steady and long.

The velvet duvet was only pulled up to her shoulders, revealing her slender shoulder line and collarbone, which bore several faint red marks—imprints left by those moments of losing control last night.

Her hair was scattered across the pillow, a few stray strands sticking to her forehead; she wasn't a particularly peaceful sleeper, but it made her seem inexplicably soft.

Jiang Chen's gaze lingered on those red marks for two seconds before shifting away.

The room was very quiet, so quiet he could hear her subtle breathing and the occasional chirping of birds from outside the window.

He withdrew his gaze from her face and slowly scanned the bedroom. His suit jacket, tie, and shirt were scattered on the carpet; the front of the shirt still bore the light brown stain from yesterday's cup of dancong tea.

Her silk shirt was draped over the armrest of the bed-end stool, one high heel lay crooked by the door, and the other had been kicked off to who knows where.

The lamp on the nightstand was still on, its orange glow casting a soft circle of light on the ceiling; they had forgotten to turn it off too.

The floor was a complete mess.

Jiang Chen looked at all of this, and the corner of his mouth curled up unconsciously—an expression that was thirty percent helplessness, thirty percent self-mockery, and the rest something even he couldn't quite define.

Drunk again.

He thought back; every time, almost every single time, it happened after a drinking session, crossing the line at some point where he was neither fully drunk nor sober.

He wasn't someone who lacked self-control, but alcohol always had a way of knocking out a specific brick of his reason, and someone just happened to be standing on the other side of that wall to give it a push.

How many did Lu Manqi make? He didn't bother to count; counting was meaningless.

The only difference was that the person who pushed down the wall last night was her.

She had kicked away the ladder, refusing to let him down.

Thinking of this, Jiang Chen sighed soundlessly and looked down at the person in his arms once more.

She was sleeping soundly, her eyelashes occasionally fluttering like the tips of a butterfly's wings trembling in the wind.

He didn't move, afraid of waking her.

But Lu Manqi woke up anyway.

Her consciousness awakened before her body did.

First came a wave of soreness seeping from the gaps in her bones, then a faint, dull ache at the back of her head, and then, she felt a gaze resting on her face.

She opened her eyes.

The first thing that came into view was Jiang Chen's collarbone, so close she could almost see the fine lines on his skin.

Her head was pillowed on his arm, and her hand had found its way onto his waist at some point; their posture was as intimate as... as if they were in some kind of established relationship.

Her brain buzzed, and her entire body stiffened.

Memories rewound.

The tea had spilled.

She had fallen into his arms.

She had kissed him.

He asked if she'd had too much to drink, and she said no.

She had unbuttoned his cufflinks.

She said it had to be tonight.

Then he kissed her, and everything after that was like a fragmented yet passionate and brilliant dream.

In an instant, Lu Manqi's face burned from her ears to her forehead. She instinctively tried to scramble out of his arms, but as soon as her body moved, the soreness pulled her back. She let out a muffled groan and fell back into the hollow of his shoulder.

Now there was truly nowhere to hide.

Jiang Chen looked down at her, the hint of a smile in his tone very faint, but his voice was raspy and carried the deepness unique to just waking up: "Morning."

"...Morning," Lu Manqi struggled to utter the syllable, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

She didn't dare look up, burying her face in the hollow of his shoulder, her eyelashes brushing against his skin and causing a slight itch.

Jiang Chen didn't speak again, nor did he move, letting her stay buried there like an ostrich.

Lu Manqi desperately tried to organize her words in that darkness, but her brain felt stuffed with a tangled mess, unable to pull out a single complete sentence.

She had used up all her courage last night. The frankness and boldness fueled by the alcohol had vanished completely with the daylight, leaving only naked nervousness and shame.

She only remembered that she had been very proactive yesterday—so proactive she wished she could bury herself.

Would he think she was easy?

This thought pierced her brain like a needle, sharp and precise.

She couldn't say why she cared so much.

Yes, she liked handsome men and never hid her demands for a material lifestyle.

But she had never gone all the way. She had always felt that the most important thing should be given to a truly worthy person at a truly worthy moment.

Last night, she gave it.

But in Jiang Chen's eyes, would she just be another woman throwing herself at him? Would he think she had just come to his door using the alcohol as an excuse, no different from any other woman?

Her hand unconsciously gripped the duvet, her knuckles turning white.

"Since you're awake, you're awake," Jiang Chen's voice came from above, carrying a hint of laziness she couldn't quite decipher. "No need to play ostrich."

Lu Manqi bit her lip and slowly, very slowly, lifted her head from his arms.

They were face to face, separated by only a few centimeters.

She looked into his eyes; in the morning light, they seemed a bit softer than usual, without the dark undercurrents of last night or his usual cold detachment. He was just looking at her quietly, as if waiting for her to say something.

"I..."

She opened her mouth, and her eyes suddenly felt a bit stinging.

She wanted to say sorry, but she didn't regret a single second of last night.

She wanted to say thank you for bringing me back, but she had already pulled the man into bed.

She wanted to say don't misunderstand, but that was exactly what she had intended.

All the words were stuck in her throat. In the end, she just looked at him, the corners of her eyes red, her lips opening and closing, closing and opening, like a fish stranded on the shore.

Seeing her like this, Jiang Chen suddenly laughed.

The laugh was very light, and the curve of his mouth wasn't wide, but the amusement in his eyes was real, unlike his usual polite, distant smiles.

"Weren't you quite the talker last night? 'I haven't had too much to drink,' 'I know who I am,' 'It has to be tonight'—how come you've run out of words now?"

Lu Manqi's face turned even redder at his words, and she reached out to cover his mouth: "Stop talking..."

As she raised her hand, the duvet slipped down a bit. Catching sight of the red marks on her collarbone and shoulder, her movements jerked to a halt, and she stiffened again.

She looked down at those marks, her fingers slowly curling. The anxiety that had been temporarily suppressed by her embarrassment resurfaced.

After a moment of silence, her voice was very soft, as faint as a silk thread that could be snapped by the wind at any moment.

"Jiang Chen."

"Yeah."

"Do you think I'm very easy?"

After saying this, she didn't look up, her eyes fixed on the wrinkles in the duvet, her eyelashes hiding the surging emotions in her eyes.

Jiang Chen didn't answer immediately.

She felt his arm tighten slightly behind her back, pulling her closer into his embrace, but this action didn't put her at ease; instead, it made her heart beat even faster.

"Lu Manqi," he called her full name.

She gave a small "mm," still not looking up.

"About last night, do you regret it?"

The question stunned her.

She slowly raised her head and met his gaze.

The morning light grew brighter, and the golden line from the gap in the curtains moved to the edge of the bed, falling on his shoulder and bathing half his face in soft light.

The way he looked at her was the same as last night—no contempt, no perfunctoriness, no hint of 'it doesn't count after sunrise.' He was just seriously waiting for an answer.

Looking at him, Lu Manqi suddenly felt the blockage in her chest loosen slightly.

"I don't regret it," she said.

Her voice was light, but there was no hesitation.