Chapter 4 - Drunken Mistake

The morning light crept through the sheer curtains, soft and golden, casting long shadows across the room. The air hung heavy—silent but for the faint, lingering scent of last night's tangled bodies.

The first thing Lin Shuyin felt was pain. Sharp, aching, pulsing through every inch of her—raw and undeniable.

Then came the warmth—unexpected, unfamiliar. A steady weight draped across her waist, pulling her closer to a solid chest.

A blanket barely covered her bare skin beneath it.

And then—her eyes snapped open.

Blinking once. Twice.

Her breath caught.

Lu Yanzhou.

His face was inches from hers—eyelashes casting delicate shadows on his high cheekbones, his hair tousled, lips slightly parted in sleep. His arm wrapped possessively around her, pulling her close, as if she belonged to him.

As if she belonged there.

It felt like a dream—some cruel trick her exhausted mind conjured after everything she'd endured.

But no.

The soreness in her limbs. The ache buried deep inside. The scattered marks across her skin—whispered confessions of the dark.

They were all too real.

It wasn't a dream.

It had happened

The night. His touch. His kisses. The way he moved against her like a man possessed—relentless, consuming—like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

Her stomach twisted.

Her head pounded.

Panic started to rise in her throat.

No. No. No.

This couldn't have happened.

Shouldn't have.

Her phone kept buzzing sharply on the bedside table.

The vibration jolted her awake, yanking her back to a harsher reality.

Carefully, she slipped her arm free from beneath the blanket, not daring to wake the man still tangled with her, and reached for the phone.

The screen lit up with a single message.

Her heart dropped.

Her entire body froze.

There was a new message.

This can't be happening. She'd messed up. This just can't happen. What had she done?

But now… after last night… after what she'd let happen…

Her mind was a mess. She had ruined everything. Everything.

Her hands trembled, clutching the phone. The ache in her body was nothing compared to the storm raging in her chest.

Last night was a mistake.

A terrible, unforgivable mistake.

She had allowed herself to forget—for one fleeting night. Allowed herself to feel something beyond pain and numbness. To fall, if only briefly, into his arms, his warmth, his madness—who was drunk, lost in a haze, unaware of what he was doing.

And now—

Reality hit her like a storm, ruthless and unforgiving.

How had she been so blind? So foolish?

She was supposed to leave. Yet…

Her eyes snapped shut, then opened hard as steel.

Lu Yanzhou was never hers.

Their worlds were galaxies apart.

The message blinking on her screen was a cold, merciless reminder—who she was. And who he would always be.

And last night?

It meant nothing.

Not to him.

Not to a man like Lu Yanzhou.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, carefully peeled his arm from around her waist. Each movement sent fresh waves of pain through her body, but she ignored it.

She had no choice.

Because she had to believe.

Had to believe he wouldn't remember.

Had to believe she could still walk away.

Slowly, painfully, she forced herself to sit up, every movement sending sharp jolts through her aching body. The soreness between her thighs flared with a cruel intensity—a raw reminder of what had happened with Lu Yanzhou.

The cold morning air bit into her exposed skin, and she welcomed the sting, hoping it would distract her from the burning ache.

She needed to feel something real. Anything.

But as she tried to stand, her legs trembled and gave way beneath her. She collapsed on the floor, a broken mess, unable to steady herself.

A muffled sob slipped past her lips as the sharp pain twisted deeper, stealing what little breath she had left. Her fingers curled against the cold floor, the ache blooming inside her like a cruel echo of the night before.

She didn't want to wake him.Not yet.Not when the weight of it all was pressing so heavily on her chest she could barely breathe.

She lay there for a moment—trembling, silent—caught in the space between shame and pain, between the ghost of his touch and the brutal clarity of morning. The night had changed everything, and now it felt like nothing would ever be the same.

Her clothes lay scattered across the floor, careless reminders of how recklessly it had all unraveled.

With shaking fingers, she reached for them—fumbling through fabric and blurred vision, her hands clumsy and numb. She dressed as quickly and quietly as she could, never once glancing back at the bed.

She couldn't.

Because he still lay there—peaceful, untouched by the storm tearing her apart.

Unaware.

Unaware of how deeply he'd marked her.

Unaware that she was already slipping away.

She stuffed her belongings into the small bag she'd barely unpacked—laughably little, easily forgotten.

Her steps were silent, determined, as she walked toward the door.

At the threshold, she paused.

Her hand gripped the handle.

Her heart thundered in her ears.

She didn't look back.

Couldn't.

If she did—if she so much as glanced at him—she'd break.

She'd remember how he kissed like it was all that mattered.

How he clung to her like he couldn't bear to let go.

But it wasn't real.

Not to him.

It was a drunken mistake.

He would forget. He should forget.

Forget the night.

Forget her.

She opened the door.

The cool hallway air hit her like a slap.

And without a backward glance, without a word, she stepped out.

Leaving behind the man who had unknowingly entangled her in a deeper mess she had no idea was yet to come.