But he didn't seem to hear her. Or maybe he did, and he just… didn't care.
Something about this closeness tugged at something deep inside him—something he hadn't known he'd been missing until now.
Before he realized what he was doing, before he even thought about it, he leaned forward—closing the space that had never truly existed between them.
It wasn't a forceful movement. It wasn't even deliberate.
It was as if their hearts had reached the decision first—and their bodies simply followed.
Their lips met again.
This time, it wasn't an accident.
It was hesitant at first, almost questioning—gentle like a whisper, fleeting as a sigh. But it carried something that neither of them could name, something that made Lin Che's chest tighten and Gong Feng's world turn quiet.
It wasn't just a kiss. It was a realization—soft, warm, terrifying.
Lin Che's mind was a blur.
She should move. She should say something. She should do something.
But she didn't.
She couldn't.
Because in that quiet, hazy moment, everything else—rules, warnings, reality—just faded away.
Her hands clenched softly over his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath her palms. And somehow, it calmed her.
It felt… right.
Too right.
And that scared her more than anything.
Then, just when the world felt as if it had stopped turning—her senses came crashing back.
Her eyes flew open.
She blinked, heart hammering wildly.
What—what was she doing?
Her face flamed crimson as the realization sank in.
Before Gong Feng could say a word, Lin Che scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping on her own slippers.
"I—I'm sorry!" she blurted out, her voice high and panicked. "Sleepwalking—still sleepwalking! I'll just—go back to sleep—elsewhere—!"
Lin Che ran as if the very air behind her might burn her if she slowed down.
Her bare feet made no sound against the soft carpeted hallway, but in her ears, her heartbeat pounded loud and fierce — thump-thump-thump-thump — each one a frantic drum of disbelief and panic.
She didn't look back.
She didn't dare.
The long corridor stretched on forever, the lamps flickering dimly like fading stars, and for one wild second she wondered if she was even awake. Maybe this was all a dream — a strange, ridiculous dream — and at any moment she would wake up in her bed back in the village, Nan Lu snoring beside her, nothing out of the ordinary.
But no matter how fast she ran, her body refused to forget.
Her lips still tingled.
Her hands still trembled.
And her heart — her treacherous, unruly heart — still beat as though trying to chase that warmth again.
When she finally reached her room, Lin Che almost slammed into the door before fumbling it open and darting inside. She closed it quickly behind her, the click echoing far too loud in the silence of the night.
For a long moment, she simply stood there — back pressed against the door, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths.
"Breathe… breathe, Lin Che," she whispered to herself.
Her fingers clutched the fabric over her heart, as if she could calm the thunder beneath.
Slowly — ever so slowly — she raised her hand and touched her lips.
Still warm.
Still real.
Her eyes widened again as everything that had happened replayed in her mind: the question, the closeness, the accidental fall — and then that.
Her first kiss!
She stumbled toward the bed, half in a daze, and nearly tripped on her own slippers. Nan Lu was still sleeping, her mouth slightly open, snoring softly in her usual deep slumber — a sleeping log that not even an earthquake could wake.
Thank heavens.
Lin Che crawled into bed, pulled the blanket over herself, and buried her burning face beneath the covers.
But the darkness behind her closed eyes wasn't peaceful.
It was filled with him.
The low, even tone of his voice when he'd asked, What are you doing here?
The way his eyes — dark and unreadable — had glinted even in the dim light.
The quiet steadiness of his presence, like something familiar yet impossibly distant.
Why… why had it felt so natural? So right?
Her face turned red again just thinking about it.
And then came the guilt.
Zhang Rui.
Her heart lurched painfully.
What would she even tell him? How could she explain that her first kiss — the one she'd saved for him for years — had somehow been stolen in the middle of the night by a stranger whose name she didn't even know?
No, not stolen. That wasn't quite right.
Because she hadn't stopped it.
Her stomach twisted.
Zhang Rui had always been patient with her. Gentle. Attentive. He never once tried to cross the line, always saying with a smile, "There's no hurry, Lin Che. We'll have forever."
And she had believed him.
They were comfortable — two people who knew each other so well that their silences were never awkward. Their relationship was like a calm lake — stable, smooth, undisturbed.
Until now.
Now, there was a ripple.
And no matter how hard she tried to still the surface, that ripple kept spreading wider and wider, until it felt like the whole lake inside her was trembling.
Lin Che curled deeper under the blanket.
Her heart refused to settle. Her mind kept replaying that single, unbearable moment — over and over — until the line between reality and memory blurred.
And somewhere between guilt and confusion, she drifted into a restless sleep.
Even then, her hand unconsciously brushed her lips again, as though afraid the warmth might fade if she didn't hold onto it.
---
On the other side of the mansion — in the silent east wing — Gong Feng still hadn't moved.
He sat on the floor exactly where she had left him, the dim light from the window painting his features in soft silver.
His coat was still discarded on the chair. His towel, miraculously, still held in place. And his expression — usually calm, disciplined, unreadable — was now entirely undone.
He leaned back against the side of the bed and stared into the empty air.
That had just happened.
It had happened, right?
For a long while, he didn't trust his own memory.
But then, his hand rose on its own, brushing his lips.
Warm. Still warm.
A strange flutter — something like disbelief mixed with quiet wonder — crossed his face.
Gong Feng prided himself on being a man of reason. Of control.
Every decision in his life was calculated, deliberate.
But tonight — tonight had been nothing of the sort.
He had acted purely on instinct.
Moved without thought.
Reacted without logic.
And for the first time in years, that didn't scare him.
It intrigued him.
The image of her — eyes wide, lips trembling, trying and failing to "sleepwalk" her way out of trouble — replayed in his mind, and before he knew it, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
"What a strange woman," he murmured.
He could still hear her voice, hurried and nervous: 'Sleepwalking! Don't mind me, I'm sleepwalking!'
A low chuckle escaped him.
This woman had barged into his forbidden wing, stumbled into his room, fallen on him — and somehow, somehow, managed to take his first genuine laugh in years with her when she ran away.
He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair.
The warmth from before still lingered faintly on his lips, and despite himself, he felt a small spark of anticipation — a feeling he hadn't allowed himself in a long time.
"Lin Che…" he said softly, testing the name on his tongue like a secret.
"What the hell are you doing to me?"