The first thing Zhao Mei felt was pain.
A deep, aching soreness between her thighs, and a pounding in her skull that made the sunlight slicing through the curtains feel like knives.
She blinked slowly, her lashes heavy, the scent of expensive cologne and clean linen flooding her senses. This wasn't her bed.
Her fingers curled against silk sheets.
And then she saw him.
Zhang Wei stood by the window, his broad back to her, shirtless, a tumbler of water in one hand. His reflection in the glass looked like a portrait, tall, lean, dangerously composed. But his eyes in that faint reflection... cold. Calculating.
When he finally turned, his gaze swept over her, lingering on the torn strap of her white dress. His jaw tightened.
"You're awake," he said flatly.
Zhao Mei scrambled to sit up, clutching the sheet against her chest. "Wh–where am I? What... happened?"
His eyes narrowed. "That's what I'd like to know."
Memory came in shards.
Chen Rong's hand on her arm. The drink.
The elevator.
The blur of a stranger's face above hers.
Her breath caught. "You"
"Don't start," Zhang Wei cut in, his voice like ice. "You were in my room. In my bed. And now" he gestured vaguely toward her "this."
Her cheeks burned. "I didn't I wasn't" Her voice broke.
Something flickered in his gaze then not guilt, not pity, but a shadow of realization. "You were drugged."
"So were you," she shot back without thinking.
He stilled. "What did you just say?"
Flashback
Zhang Wei's penthouse suite had been arranged like a stage, candles, champagne, silk sheets. His mother's doing. Fang Hua had been the chosen bride in her eyes, beautiful, poised, from a family of old money.
Fang Hua arrived that night in a crimson dress, her heart pounding with a mix of dread and excitement. She had agreed to her aunt's plan: seduce Zhang Wei, secure the engagement, secure the legacy.
But when she entered his suite, she froze.
There he was, naked, tangled in bed with another woman. A stranger. His eyes were half-lidded, his movements sluggish, unfocused. The woman wasn't laughing or smirking, she was limp, silent.
Fang Hua's breath caught. She turned on her heel before he even noticed her.
The humiliation burned through her chest as she left the hotel, her heels clicking furiously. Later, she told anyone who would listen that Zhang Wei's mother had orchestrated the entire shameful scene.
Back to present
Zhang Wei set the glass down hard enough to make it ring. "I don't bring strangers to my room. Ever." His voice was low, dangerous.
"I didn't come here on purpose," Zhao Mei whispered. "I was... sent here."
His brows pulled together. "By who?"
She hesitated. "My ex-boyfriend. Chen Rong."
Zhang Wei's expression didn't change, but something in the air shifted, a faint crackle of warning.
He reached for his phone. "You'll get checked by my doctor. Then you'll leave."
Her chest tightened. "That's it? You're just going to... pretend this didn't happen?"
He looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time. And something unreadable passed between them, a recognition neither of them wanted to name.
"Believe me," he said quietly, "it's better for both of us if we do."
But neither of them knew just how wrong he was.
The moment Zhao Mei stood, she knew.
The white dress was destroyed. One strap torn clean off. The fabric stretched, wrinkled, ruined. And her neck,
She froze.
Dark marks bloomed along her collarbone and throat. Fresh. Angry. Hickeys. There was no hiding them. Anyone who looked at her would understand exactly what had happened.
Her stomach turned. Shame crawled up her spine. She pulled the sheet tighter, but it felt useless.
Zhang Wei saw everything.
His jaw tightened. The cold mask slipped, just for a second. Not anger. Not pity.
Responsibility.
He crossed the room without a word, slipped off his black coat, and held it out to her.
"Wear this."
No comfort. No apology. Just control.
She took it. The coat was heavy, warm, carrying his scent. It covered her neck. Covered the evidence. Covered her.
Their fingers brushed.
Her breath caught. His hand stilled for half a second too long, then pulled away.
Minutes later, she stepped out of the suite wrapped in his coat, her torn dress clutched in her hands. Nausea twisted in her stomach as the elevator doors closed.
Zhang Wei stood by the window, watching her disappear.
Neither of them understood it yet.
But the night they both wanted erased had already sealed their fate.