Xiao Chacha froze for nearly three seconds.

Lin An had spoken with such candid sincerity, his eyes clear of even a trace of desire—shattering her subconscious suspicion that he was trying to trick her.

“Of course. You understand me, so… I can accompany you in trying certain things. But we stay out of each other’s lives. No interference.”

“Did you use the same trick on Su Yuejin?” Xiao Chacha’s voice turned icy.

“Maybe. My head was a mess back then. I said things to Su Yuejin someone like me shouldn’t. I’m not gentle. Gentleness doesn’t bring happiness.”

Lin An waited. Xiao Chacha sipped her whiskey, holding it in her mouth. She set the glass down, settled onto his lap, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Just to be clear, Chacha—we won’t develop feelings.”

Unable to speak with whiskey in her mouth, she simply nodded.

Lin An kissed her, lips slightly parted. Xiao Chacha slowly fed the mildly fragrant whiskey into his mouth. A subtle floral note lingered; the Japanese whiskey’s peatiness was barely there—faint, almost absent.

His arms circled her back. Tucked in the bar’s shadowy corner, unseen, his hands grew restless. Xiao Chacha grew slightly breathless, yet her eyes shone bright as they kissed—tender, unrestrained.

After two or three minutes,

Lin An saw the blush blooming on her cheeks. He sensed her state: legs pressed tight, fidgeting nervously, eyes glittering, intoxicating—as if she’d found an answer.

Alcohol helped. Without it, he’d likely have earned a slap.

“Not enough,” Xiao Chacha murmured.

But the sadness in her eyes was gone. Something clicked. Her gaze flared—like flickering fireworks, a brilliance that felt eternal.

She kissed him again. Lin An didn’t pull away. His heart raced, yet he stayed detached, as if this were just a game.

Until his tongue went numb.

“Why… don’t I hate you?”

“Because you’ve always known I don’t love you. No desire, no trigger for your defense mechanism?” Lin An shrugged.

A deeper flush colored her cheeks. She leaned to his ear. “Your hands… weren’t behaving earlier.”

“But you were aroused, weren’t you?”

Lin An answered with pure, fearless honesty. Xiao Chacha couldn’t meet his eyes. She couldn’t accept it—couldn’t admit her own desire. It clashed with everything she believed about herself.

“I… my period’s due in two days. That’s why… definitely why I felt that way…”

“Oh? Could be.”

Lin An nodded, gently wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her off his lap. “Still drinking?”

“My… answer?” Xiao Chacha stood dazed, staring at him.

“You already have it in your heart, Chacha.”

Lin An gave no hints. She was vulnerable; any word from him would sway her. Better she find her own truth.

“Let’s keep drinking. I adore Chacha-jie. I’ve wanted this whiskey forever. Last time was Yamazaki 12 Year—150 yuan for a tiny glass. This 18 Year? Pure joy.”

He meant it. Drinking could be lovely—without bingeing, toxic toasts, or forced bravado.

Xiao Chacha remained lost in the memory of their kiss—how her heartbeat sank, her mind spun, leaving her breathless, powerless.

*He’s… a man.*

Noticing her unfamiliarity with whiskey, Lin An cheerfully shared stories of different whiskies. When she couldn’t handle straight whiskey anymore but still wanted a drink, he suggested cocktails.

He recommended the Moscow Mule—simple: copper mug, vodka, ginger beer. Make it at home. Low alcohol.

Lin An listened as a thoroughly tipsy Xiao Chacha spilled childhood memories she’d buried—secrets she’d never shared, needing an outlet, comfort.

He was glad to comfort her. She’d paid well. The money mattered—a windfall for his upcoming National Day date with Xu Qinghuan.

She spoke of girls she’d gently turned, made fall for her. Not hard—she’d matured faster than peers, skilled at stirring emotions.

But that very skill made loving someone with mismatched life experience impossible. True connection needed aligned values, compatible hearts.

Lin An listened patiently, sipping slowly. Half the bottle gone, his head felt fuzzy too.

Yet he stayed clear. He knew girls like Xiao Chacha were jaded about love. She’d struggle to love again—unless someone smarter came along, someone who could effortlessly understand her.

As bar lights dimmed near 2 a.m., closing time, Lin An helped her up, arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the elevator. He asked for her address.

Thankfully, she slurred out her building’s location. Taxi hailed, ride taken, directions followed to her lobby.

*Elevator’s here. She’ll be fine.*

But the moment he loosened his grip, Xiao Chacha lunged, pinned him against the wall, and kissed him. To Lin An, her kiss felt practiced—likely from kissing her “sisters.”

He didn’t resist. Let her linger until the elevator arrived. She grabbed his hand.

“I haven’t found my answer yet, Lin An.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve never… been with a man…”

Lin An just “oh”-ed, feigning cluelessness.

“So… it has to be you.” Xiao Chacha stated it plainly.

“Huh? No way.” Lin An shook his head like a rattle drum.

*First, explaining to Xu Qinghuan again. Second—what if she becomes another Su Yuejin? One’s enough.*

(Though he doubted it.)

“Don’t worry. I won’t be like that foolish girl Su Yuejin. I won’t fall for you. I just need to understand myself. I need someone I don’t dislike. So… I want it to be you.”

“…”

“Sure?” Lin An asked cautiously.

“Certain. I won’t like you. I dislike men like you—flirtatious, manipulative scum. I can’t outplay you… but I’m willing to sleep with you.”

“…” Lin An almost walked away.

“Ten thousand yuan.” She whispered it into his ear.

“Chacha, it’s not about money. I… I have someone I like. She likes me too… so…”

“So isn’t cheating more thrilling? Don’t men love that? Eating from the bowl while eyeing the pot? Or… am I not good enough?”

Her skin was fair. Her figure wasn’t petite; she had a youthful build like Luo Shuishui’s—neither tall nor slender, delicately proportioned, adorably pretty.

“I’m scared… Chacha. What if you fall for me?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Aren’t you being a little too conceited, Lin An?” A cold smile touched her lips.

“Uh… fine. Let me get you upstairs. You might just collapse into bed.”

He guided her into the elevator. Upstairs, she unlocked her door. Solo apartment, luxurious decor—clearly a woman of means.

“I want to shower.”

“So… you shower?”

“I have a tub. I don’t want to move.” Her voice was clear, cool. She seized his hand, placed it on her chest.

“So… you help me.”

“…”

“Whatever. Do as you please.” Lin An grumbled.

No urge to pounce. Xu Qinghuan’s past “training” had forged iron restraint. He lifted Xiao Chacha, dropped her into the tub, turned on the shower—cold water splashed down.

She shivered.

“Cold?”

“Mm.”

“Good. Sober up.” Lin An shrugged. She fell silent. But once the tub filled, she grabbed his shoulders, dragged him in with effort.

Thankfully, the tub was large.

His clothes soaked through.

He lay over her. Water icy, yet the girl beneath radiated heat.

“Cold?” She cupped his face.

“Seems a little.” Lin An nodded.

“Then hold me tight.”

Xiao Chacha flipped him over, pinning him beneath her.