Her voice dripped with displeasure. Chen Huaixu held her captive in his embrace, looking down at her. "How did I do it on purpose?"

"How could anyone guess that? With your tiny hint, it's impossible."

"How do you know it's impossible?" He released her and abruptly stood. "Want to try?"

"Try what?" Clad only in her underwear, Yan Zhen snatched her clothes from the sofa and covered herself, her face burning as she curled up, suspicious of Chen Huaixu's intentions.

He picked up the pen from the rug and handed it to her. Then, with a fluid motion, he shed his shirt, revealing a sculpted torso. Yan Zhen knew he worked out, but she’d never imagined the crisp lines of his suit concealed such a powerful physique. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, defined abs—he surpassed even the "male gods" her friend Ying Shu had shown her.

Chen Huaixu sat on the sofa, his back to her. "You write, I guess. No hints. If I guess wrong, I'll let you go. If I guess right… You have to willingly admit defeat."

Yan Zhen bit her lip. "Why should I agree? Can't I leave without playing this game? What right do you have to stop me?"

"You can." He turned his head slightly, eyes downcast, not meeting her gaze. "If you don't want to stay, you can leave now."

His tone was so calm it unsettled her. She recalled the sight of him alone on the sofa when she'd entered, that strange sense of loneliness.

It was as if, if she left, he would remain in the darkness indefinitely.

Hesitating, her fingers clenching her clothes, she finally blurted out, "Fine, I'll write! You just won't give up until you lose, will you?"

She leaned close to his back, pen in hand, and began to write on his side, intending to give him a taste of his own medicine. He didn't flinch. He remained still, like ice, her actions eliciting no reaction.

When she finished, Chen Huaixu asked, "Done?"

"Mm-hmm." Confident he couldn't guess, she scoffed. "I'm more merciful than you. I only wrote two—"

"Yan Zhen." He spoke her name softly.

Panicked, she bluffed, "Why are you calling me?"

"You wrote your name, Yan Zhen." He turned to face her. "Did I guess right?"

"...Did you just guess?" Yan Zhen refused to believe it.

She'd chosen her own name on a whim, the character for "Zhen" complex enough to make it difficult to discern on skin.

She hadn't expected him to guess it on the first try.

Chen Huaixu turned, pulling her back onto the sofa, his arms around her. "You shouldn't have written that."

He hadn't been entirely sure. Had she written any other name, he might have failed. But “Yan Zhen”—those two characters, he knew their strokes better than anyone.

Yan Zhen dropped the pen, a mixture of frustration and resignation warring within her. She maintained a facade of bravado. "What do you want? I'm telling you now, I won't—"

His fingers moved to her back, unclasping her bra. He kissed her again.

Yan Zhen gasped as her bra slipped from her shoulders, her br3asts exposed to the air, cupped in his warm hands.

She gasped, pushing against him, but he held her tight, pressing her soft flesh, her n1pples hardening against his palms, ripening fruit waiting to be plucked.

Unlike his earlier teasing touches, his long, strong fingers now kneaded her possessively, her br3asts yielding in his grasp, milk-like and overflowing, swaying with his movements, threatening to spill.

Yan Zhen's fingers pressed against his shoulders, her body tingling, unable to push him away. Her breathing grew ragged, her protests weakening. "Don't touch...mm... You're so heavy! You're so big!"

His palm grazed her sensitive n1pples, then pinched and rolled them without mercy. A wave of pleasure radiated from her br3asts, spreading through her body like wildfire.

"Chen... Chen Huaixu..." Her moans were soft, encouraging his touch. He pressed her br3asts together, leaving faint red marks on her tender skin.

"Do you want me to stop?" He nipped at her earlobe, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine, her toes curling.

"...Stop it!"

"Alright, then call me gege." His fingers teased her n1pples. "Call me gege and I'll stop."

Flustered and exasperated, Yan Zhen yielded, whispering, "Gege."

"Hmm? A little louder."

She gritted her teeth. "Ge-ge!"

"Too loud."

Frustrated, she reached out to hit him, but he caught her hand, pulling her closer. He coaxed her, his voice a low murmur in her ear, "Good girl, just call me gege and I'll stop."

Her lips pressed together, her fingers tracing his spine. She surrendered. "...Gege."

He kissed her neck, pushing her down onto the sofa.

True to his word, Chen Huaixu stopped touching her br3asts. He trailed kisses down her neck, sucking gently. Yan Zhen tried to push him away, but he pinned her arms to her sides.

He lifted his head, his dark eyes fixed on hers.

The only sounds in the quiet room were their ragged breaths and the frantic beating of their hearts.

After a silent moment, he lowered his head and took her n1pple into his mouth, his fingers sliding along her inner thigh, pressing gently against her core through the fabric.

Yan Zhen gasped, stifling a moan.

She realized she'd been tricked again.

The sensation of his mouth on her br3ast sent waves of pleasure through her.

Afraid of the unfamiliar, spiraling sensation, she bit her lip, whimpering, "Chen Huaixu, you're drunk! Let me go!"

The metallic click of his belt buckle echoed in the room. He took her hand and guided it to his groin, where his hardened er3ction strained against his pants, hot and pulsing. Even the slightest touch revealed its intimidating size, poised and ready.

His voice, thick with desire, whispered in her ear, "Men can't get hard when they're drunk, baby."