77: A broken fan, a portable "human furnace"

The air solidified.

Wang Fugui froze, stiff as a wooden post.

Opposite him, two pairs of eyes simultaneously sprang open in alarm.

They couldn't eat that meal anymore.

They hastily cleared the dishes, avoiding eye contact; the awkward atmosphere fermented in the small dorm room, turning viscous and scalding hot.

Night deepened.

The summer night in the coastal city was stifling, like a giant steamer basket, without a trace of wind.

The old ceiling fan in Dorm Room 301 diligently spun, emitting a rhythmic creaking sound, stirring the hot air in the room.

Wang Fugui was sleeping on the cooling mat on the floor.

Chen Yun and Lin Xiaocao slept on the beds, both tacitly choosing to turn their backs on the heat source on the floor.

"Creak... creak... groan..."

The sound of the ceiling fan grew increasingly labored and slow.

Suddenly, there was a crisp "crack," followed by a "sizzle" of electricity.

The spinning blades reluctantly wobbled twice and stopped completely.

Dead silence descended.

The only sounds left were three different-sized breaths, varying in frequency.

Without the wind, the suppressed and stirred scent began to spread, rise, and ferment unrestrainedly in the cramped space.

It wasn't sweat odor.

It was an aroma mixed with the fragrance of cheap soapberry and the scent of dry cotton bedding that had been baked under the scorching sun.

This aroma was further mixed with an indescribable, primal, and dominant masculine pheromone.

It was like an invisible net, enveloping the entire room, drilling into the nasal cavity, seeping into the skin, and igniting the fire in their blood.

Lin Xiaocao tossed and turned on the bamboo mat like a pancake.

She felt parched and hot all over.

This heat wasn't caused by the weather; it felt like it was burning out from her bones.

The air was viscous, and every breath felt like swallowing that intense scent belonging to Wang Fugui, so strong it made her legs weak.

Chen Yun lay with her eyes open, staring motionless at the ceiling in the darkness.

Her breathing was light, but her chest rose and fell with every inhalation.

Her self-control, which she prided herself on, was tottering at this moment.

That scent was purer and more aggressive than what she had smelled in the office during the day, reminding her of that afternoon when she lost control, and of that astonishing heat and strength.

On the floor mat.

Wang Fugui was in a dead sleep.

The immense shame and fright had exhausted all his energy.

Unconsciously, he pulled off the thin sheet covering him, exposing his entire body to the cool moonlight filtering in through the window.

His body temperature was already higher than average; at this moment, he was like a Human Furnace constantly radiating heat, causing the surrounding air to shimmer slightly.

The moonlight was his carving knife.

That broad shoulder, those clearly defined pectoral muscles, those eight chiseled, angular abs, and the V-cut that disappeared into the waistband of his sweatpants, outlining an astonishing inverted triangle... every inch of muscle line was filled with divine beauty and savage tension.

A thin layer of sweat covered his bronze skin, glistening subtly under the moonlight.

The bamboo mat on the bed let out a faint "creak."

Lin Xiaocao truly couldn't stand it anymore. Quietly, like a kitten, she poked half her head out from the edge of the bed.

She saw it.

She saw that body, bathed in moonlight, like an ancient Greek sculpture.

Her breathing instantly froze, and her eyes widened into perfect circles.

Almost simultaneously, Chen Yun silently turned onto her side.

Her gaze pierced the darkness, landing precisely on the same focal point.

In this moment, separated by the darkness, the two women became accomplices.

Their gazes, like two fine paintbrushes, greedily yet purely traced the man's outline, inch by inch.

There was no trace of malice, only pure appreciation, stunned by the ultimate combination of strength and beauty.

Yet, this appreciation accelerated their heartbeats and softened their limbs more than any direct touch... Inside the most luxurious suite of the Hongda Group Guesthouse.

Bosss Wife was wearing a silk bathrobe, holding a glass of red wine, but she wasn't drinking it.

She was suffering from insomnia.

She opened her other hand; in her palm was an employee registration form pulled from the personnel files.

On it, Wang Fugui's honest, slightly bewildered black-and-white one-inch photo faced her.

Bosss Wife’s fingertips, painted with bright red nail polish, gently traced the young face.

The scene from the workshop that afternoon flashed repeatedly in her mind.

The torn fabric.

That fierce outline, brimming with savage vitality.

And the woman's sun protection shirt tied around the waist of the young man as he fled in panic, and his face, swollen purple-red, almost dripping blood.

The more she thought about it, the hotter the fire burned inside her.

She picked up the phone on the table and dialed her husband's number.

The call was quickly answered.

"Wife, it's so late, aren't you asleep yet?" Factory Director Zhang's humble, fawning voice came through.

Bosss Wife skipped the pleasantries; her voice was alluring but carried an undeniable command.

"Dahai, tomorrow, bring that young man named Wang Fugui into your office alone."

"Huh? Why should I call him in?"

Bosss Wife chuckled softly and licked her red lips.

"I... want to personally assess our factory's 'special talent.'"

She deliberately emphasized the words "special talent."

"Give him a chance, and see if he... can handle it."

...Dorm Room 301.

Lin Xiaocao felt like she was about to be roasted dry.

Her throat felt like it was on fire; if she didn't drink water soon, she felt she would die of dehydration.

She climbed down from the bed lightly and cautiously.

Every step was taken carefully, afraid of making the slightest sound.

Her feet finally touched the cool concrete floor.

She let out a long breath and turned to grab the enamel mug on the table.

The dorm room was too small.

She had to pass Wang Fugui's floor mat.

She held her breath and tiptoed around him.

But the moment she passed the area above Wang Fugui's head, that extremely intense masculine scent rushed at her like a heatwave.

Her legs suddenly went weak.

"Mmph!"

She let out a short gasp, lost her balance, and fell straight toward Wang Fugui on the floor.

In the nick of time, she used all her strength to press her hands firmly against the floor.

The sharp pain from her palms sobered her for a moment.

She stabilized her posture and didn't fall.

But her posture at that moment was incredibly suggestive.

She was kneeling and leaning forward, her hands supporting her on either side of Wang Fugui's head, her entire upper body suspended directly above him.

The distance between their faces was less than five centimeters.

His warm breath, carrying that dominant scent, puffed onto her face and lips, one breath after another.

She could even make out his long, dense eyelashes, which trembled slightly in his sleep.

Her mind went blank.

The feverish heat inside her reached its peak at this moment.

A crazy thought, as if by some strange coincidence, popped up from her heart.

Just... just one sniff... just one... Uncontrollably, she slowly, bit by bit, brought her face closer.

Her nose was practically touching his scalding cheek.

Just then.

"Ahem."

It exploded next to Lin Xiaocao's ear like a clap of thunder from a clear sky.

She shot up like a startled fawn, and because the movement was too abrupt, the back of her head hit the bed frame heavily.

"Thump!"

A muffled sound.

"Ouch!"

Tears almost sprang from her eyes from the pain. Clutching the back of her head, she looked frantically toward Chen Yun's bed.

In the darkness, Chen Yun sat up, her voice carrying a hint of lazy amusement.

"Little Grass, how careless of you?"

She paused, then changed the subject.

"Since you're up, why don't you... pour me a cup of water too."

Lin Xiaocao's face instantly flushed crimson. She didn't dare look at Chen Yun, only nodded frantically, and rushed to the table like she was escaping, grabbing two enamel mugs and clumsily pouring water.

She carried the water back and handed one cup to Chen Yun.

In the darkness, Chen Yun reached out and took the cup.

Her fingertips "casually" brushed against Lin Xiaocao's scorching hot hand.

Lin Xiaocao's body suddenly trembled.

Neither of them spoke.

Using the faint moonlight from outside the window, their eyes met in the air.

One carried scrutiny and amusement.

The other carried guilt and unwillingness.

Sparks flew.

An unspoken, eerie understanding was silently reached between the two women.

Mutual supervision.

Neither of them would get to sneak a bite.