Their first kiss had been two years ago, on Christmas Eve. A group of them were partying at a villa, drinking and playing games around the Christmas tree. Yan Zhen drew a dare: hug someone of the opposite sex for ten seconds. It should have been easy, especially with Yan Zhao there. But after searching the room, she couldn't find him. Instead, she spotted Chen Huaixu by the French windows, smoking. He was lost in thought, his head down, bathed in moonlight that cast a long, cool shadow behind him. The cigarette glowed faintly between his fingers, a fragile ember that seemed ready to extinguish at any moment.

Noticing her, he stubbed out the cigarette and looked up. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Someone behind her urged her to hurry, the time was almost up, and she'd have to take another drink as a penalty. On impulse, she rushed forward and hugged him. He seemed surprised, his body stiffening for a moment. Self-conscious under everyone's gaze, Yan Zhen clutched the back of his shirt, her voice a fierce whisper. "Don't you dare push me away." She felt like a hissing kitten, all claws and no bite.

Chen Huaixu looked down at her, silent, and as the others whistled and hooted, he gently wrapped his arms around her.

"Six, five, four…" The onlookers, eager for entertainment, began a countdown. Yan Zhen buried her face in his chest, pretending to be oblivious. His clean, crisp scent filled her senses, making her ears burn. Every second felt like an eternity.

As they reached "one," she started to pull away, but just then, as if on cue, all the lights went out. The room plunged into darkness, illuminated only by the soft moonlight filtering through the windows. Panic rippled through the room, and Yan Zhen was no exception. She stumbled, her slipper catching on the hem of her long dress. Just as she was about to fall, Chen Huaixu’s hand shot out, pulling her back against him.

Her heart pounding, she instinctively turned to thank him. He was leaning down at the same moment, and their faces were so close, her lips brushed against his.

The contact was warm and soft, sending a tingling shock through her. For a moment, her breath caught in her throat. His dark eyes gazed down at her, the moonlight painting his shoulders with silver.

Cheers erupted from the group around the Christmas tree. Yan Zhen suddenly remembered: someone had planned a surprise confession that night, timed to coincide with the countdown. The earlier commotion had made everyone forget, and the would-be confessor was probably just as confused by the premature countdown, but had gone ahead with the plan and turned off the lights.

While the living room buzzed with excitement, in the quiet corner by the window, Yan Zhen and Chen Huaixu stood in silent contemplation, their eyes locked.

Yan Zhen couldn't recall who made the first move. Perhaps the darkness created a sense of unreality, a detachment from the world. Or perhaps the atmosphere, combined with the alcohol, had clouded her judgment. Whatever the reason, before she knew it, she was kissing him.

The touch was damp and lingering, like waves washing over the shore, each breath pulling them deeper, saturating the dry sand with the scent of the sea. Yan Zhen felt as if she were steeped in his essence.

Their noses touched, their slightly ragged breaths mingling. The moist, clinging pressure of their lips and tongues intertwined, punctuated by the soft, intoxicating sounds of their kiss.

Dizzy from the kiss, she moaned softly, trying to pull back, but his hand held her head firmly in place. He tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss.

The darkness allowed for a silent, reckless abandon. Every heartbeat, every gasp for air was amplified, slowly chipping away at her reason, pulling her into a heady abyss.

Finally, the commotion in the living room died down, and someone called out to turn on the lights. Yan Zhen snapped back to reality and pushed him away.