YJDNY - 29

Xiang Ge considered herself to be quite a cowardly person.

Sometimes she could talk a good game, but when it came to actually doing things, something always seemed off.

Like right now.

She was crouching on the floor, arms clutching her pajamas and toiletries, looking up at him with a dry remark. “Senior Zhou, your bathroom is so unique—it’s completely different from other people’s.”

“Hmm, how is it different?”

Xiang Ge struggled to find the right words. “I thought that even if you didn’t separate the wet and dry areas, there’d at least be a shower head.”

She was referring to the bathroom in his living room.

Zhou Hangyan glanced at her, finding the question strange. “I live here alone. Why would I need two bathrooms?”

Xiang Ge hesitated. “What about when guests or friends stay over?”

“No guests.”

“Then what do you use the living room bathroom for?”

“Washing clothes.”

“…”

Alright. Two bathrooms, each with its own designated purpose, working efficiently.

Could this man not think like a normal person?

What was wrong with him, anyway?

Xiang Ge silently criticized him while squatting on the ground. Zhou Hangyan pulled the towel off his head with one hand, holding it loosely as he shook his hair slightly.

Xiang Ge felt tiny droplets of water land on her face—cool and refreshing.

Zhou Hangyan held the towel in his hand, glanced down, and repeated, “Go take a shower.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s ten o’clock.”

Xiang Ge stood up.

She hadn’t been squatting for long, but now she felt her legs and feet were numb, tingling slightly.

She rotated her ankles gingerly and shuffled into the room.

As she walked, she couldn’t help but mutter under her breath.

Only the master bedroom had a proper bathroom—what kind of insane design was this?

Once inside, Xiang Ge locked the bathroom door and placed her clothes on a wicker rack next to the sink. A large white bath towel was already prepared. She blinked, grabbed it, and placed it within easy reach on the sink counter.

Zhou Hangyan had just finished showering, so the room was still filled with steam and the clean scent of body wash. The dark gray tiles were cold under her bare feet, and she shivered slightly, hunching her shoulders.

She closed the shower door behind her.

The glass partition fogged up, and condensation dripped down the light gray tiled walls. She turned the showerhead to full blast, and hot water cascaded down, warming her skin.

Along with the heat, the fatigue and stress of the day washed away, layer by layer.

Today had been… eventful.

Thinking about Song Zhi made Xiang Ge’s head throb again.

Should she send Boss Song a red envelope and bravely admit her mistake?

No, he’d probably kill her.

Though Xiang Ge usually took her time in the shower, this time she was using Zhou Hangyan’s bathroom, so she didn’t dare linger too long. What she considered a “quick” shower still ended up lasting twenty minutes. She changed into her pajamas and stepped out.

When she retrieved her clothes earlier, she had debated for a while.

On days off, Xiang Ge loved staying home, and her collection of pajamas rivaled her wardrobe. She spent generously on comfort—sexy, tempting pieces; plain, practical ones; even some childish styles.

Choosing which pajama to bring was crucial.

Her fingers hovered over a black, semi-transparent lace camisole for half a minute before she sighed and settled on a cotton nightgown instead.

So, no matter how bold she appeared outwardly, her cowardly nature remained unchanged.

Suddenly feeling defiant, she stuffed the scandalously short black lace piece into her bag anyway.

With her long hair and no hairdryer in sight in Zhou Hangyan’s bathroom, Xiang Ge reluctantly wrapped her hair in a towel, tucked it atop her head, slipped into her sleepwear, and emerged.

She slipped on her slippers, pushed open the bathroom door, and there, lying on the bed, was Zhou Hangyan.

The man was propped up against the headboard, reading a book thick as a brick. Watching her emerge, he turned his head slightly, bookmarked his page with a finger, and let his gaze sweep over her.

She wore a pale-colored cotton nightgown with ruffled edges, puffed sleeves, and a babydoll collar—it looked like something straight out of the 19th century.

The dress was long, its hem reaching halfway down her calves, revealing her smooth, white legs and delicate ankle lines.

Every button on the collar was fastened, and her hair was bundled atop her head, wrapped in a towel that teetered precariously.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyelids drooping slightly, as if tired and sleepy. Her entire demeanor exuded a soft, warm laziness, fresh from her bath.

Zhou Hangyan closed his book and placed it on the bedside table. He slid off the bed, stepped into his slippers, and walked around to the other side. Bending down, he opened a cabinet, retrieved a hairdryer, and handed it to her.

Xiang Ge was still holding her clothes and makeup remover, leaving her no free hands to take it. Zhou Hangyan casually grabbed the items from her arms. Her dress, having been left in the bathroom, carried traces of moisture and faint warmth—her warmth.

The closer he got, the stronger the scent of shampoo and body wash became.

His scent.

Zhou Hangyan swallowed hard, thrust the hairdryer into her arms, and instructed, “Dry your hair.”

Xiang Ge gripped the cord of the hairdryer with one hand, raising her sleepy eyes obediently. She gave a soft “Oh,” then turned back into the bathroom.

Since she was only drying her hair, Xiang Ge left the door slightly ajar.

Zhou Hangyan leaned against the doorway, watching her through the mirror.

She was half-asleep, leaning lazily against the marble sink. Holding the hairdryer at maximum power, she swept it carelessly across the top of her head.

Droplets of water fell from the ends of her long hair, soaking the back of her cotton nightgown. It looked like an ink painting—the colors spreading softly, faintly revealing the contours beneath—and, more importantly—

The fact that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Zhou Hangyan’s eyelid twitched, and he quickly averted his gaze.

After a chaotic burst of drying, Xiang Ge turned off the hairdryer, ready to unplug it.

Suddenly, Zhou Hangyan said, “The back.”

“Hmm?” Xiang Ge hummed, her fingers resting on the plug. She bent over, turning around in confusion.

Her back arched beautifully, the fabric of her nightgown clinging to her spine. She was slim, and the outline of her vertebrae was faintly visible.

Zhou Hangyan lowered his gaze, silent, and stepped forward. He handed her clothes back to her and took the hairdryer.

She had been careless drying her own hair—her long locks were still damp at the ends. Zhou Hangyan turned on the dryer, pinching the ends of her hair to dry them thoroughly while also sweeping over the wet fabric of her nightgown.

Xiang Ge blinked, watching him through the mirror. “Xing Xing.”

“Mm.”

“You’re pulling my hair.”

Zhou Hangyan paused mid-motion, lifting his eyes to look at her deeply.

Her expression was innocent, her long lashes fluttering innocently.

Good job.

Great.

Zhou Hangyan dried her hair and the back of her nightgown until they were half-dry. Then, efficiently unplugging the dryer, he wrapped the cord neatly and tilted his head, signaling she could leave. “Done.”

Xiang Ge didn’t move.

Zhou Hangyan said, “Go to sleep.”

Still, Xiang Ge didn’t budge.

Zhou Hangyan raised an eyebrow.

Xiang Ge tilted her head, softening her voice. “Won’t you say goodnight to me?”

Her body leaned forward slightly, drawing closer. Her long lashes fluttered upward, and her entire being was enveloped in the scent of his body wash.

Late at night, alone with him in his bedroom.

And yet, she dared to be so bold.

How daring.

Zhou Hangyan narrowed his eyes slightly, remaining silent.

“You should say goodnight to me,” Xiang Ge insisted, switching her tone from questioning to commanding.

Zhou Hangyan lowered his eyelashes, tilting his chin slightly. His deep, dark eyes were calm. “Xiang Ge.”

She responded lightly, unfazed. “Alright, fine. I’ll say it.”

“Xing Xing, goodnight!”

She turned toward the door but stopped halfway, glancing back at him with lazy, curved eyes. “Reciprocity. Since I said goodnight, you owe me a goodnight kiss.”