Do you want to go to his bed?
One thirty-seven in the morning.
The cold light of a phone screen pierced the darkness, illuminating Lin Xiaoning's sleepless eyes. Tomorrow—no, strictly speaking, today—at nine o'clock in the morning, the company's annual gala would begin. And she, alongside Ye Yidong, would stand under the spotlight, becoming the center of attention.
This is the most important stage she has reached in the three years since she started working, and it is also the moment in her life when she needs to be glamorous and impeccable the most.
But her mind was like an overloaded server running wildly and on the verge of burning out, humming and refusing to shut down.
"Sleep! Now! Immediately!" she commanded herself, practically gritting her teeth. Her voice echoed vacantly in the overly quiet hotel room, only accentuating the unnerving stillness. The company had booked the entire floor as temporary lodging for those preparing for the meeting. By now, her colleagues were probably already asleep, gathering their energy for tomorrow's tough battle.
Only she seemed like an alien abandoned in the wasteland of time.
Her eyelids felt heavy and sore, her temples throbbed, her body drained of energy, yet her consciousness remained eerily clear, every brain cell dancing and screaming. Her mind raced through every detail of the annual meeting: her and Ye Yidong's opening lines, the unmistakable mispronunciation of titles and names when introducing the front-row leaders, Mr. Xu's supposedly long and tedious speech, which she had to listen to with an adoring smile, the order in which the awards would be presented, the flow of performances, whether the props for the interactive games were in place, the chairman's final words...
And the champagne-colored, flowing long dress she had prepared specially for tomorrow was now solemnly hanging in the closet, like a battle robe waiting to be crowned. She absolutely could not wear it with a pair of swollen, blue panda eyes and a body as heavy as lead.
Anxiety was like a vine, strangling her so that she could hardly breathe.
Why did she think of Zhao Qing at this moment? That old woman in the Finance Department—no, Lin Xiaoning never considered Zhao Qing worthy of being her enemy, even though she was the Finance Director. Old and mean, she always looked at people with a cold, scrutinizing gaze, as if appraising an auction item. She must be jealous, jealous of her youth, her plump collagen, her effortlessly slim figure, and the inexplicable feelings for Ye Yidong that she thought she had hidden so well but were actually obvious to everyone. Last time, Zhao Qing had blocked her reimbursement form for a considerable amount of event expenses and was constantly making things difficult for her.
Clown. Lin Xiaoning repeated the word in her mind with disdain. But this disdain brought no pleasure at all. Instead, it was like a thorn, piercing her consciousness and making her even more irritated. Why should I think about such an insignificant person before falling asleep? It was so annoying.
She began trying the oldest method - counting sheep.
One sheep jumped over the fence, then two sheep jumped over the fence... The flock was orderly at first, but when they reached 103, their images began to distort and mutate. Some sheep suddenly turned their heads and transformed into Zhao Qing's face, thickly lipsticked and with a sarcastic smile; some sheep turned into the densely packed text on the process chart; and some sheep turned into Ye Yidong's smiling peach blossom eyes...
Three hundred and eighty-seven sheep. She desperately realized that counting sheep was useless and even counterproductive. The act itself was absurd.
She gave up struggling, letting her exhausted body plummet into the darkness. The sensation became strange, as if weightless, she continued to fall, falling, falling, into a void of nothingness, a black hole with no end. Absolute silence filled her ears, or rather, a simulated silence created by the roar of blood flowing through her eardrums. Only the feeling of falling was real, pulling her ever deeper into the unknown abyss.
How long did this feeling last? She didn't know. At some point, she suddenly realized that the feeling of falling had disappeared, but her consciousness was still eerily clear.
She opened her eyes.
The room wasn't completely dark; the air conditioner's power indicator light emitted a faint, steady red glow in the corner. She had never noticed it before, but now, with her extremely exhausted yet alert senses, that little red light became unusually striking, even... eerie.
It seems to be moving.
Lin Xiaoning blinked his dry eyes and looked intently. Indeed, that red light wasn't static; it was moving slowly and stubbornly, drawing a thin, red trail through the dense darkness, like a miniature meteor, stubbornly sliding in a predetermined direction.
Was it an illusion? A delusion caused by overstrained eyes? She tried to focus, but the red light did indeed waver and glide slightly along its path. What direction was it moving in? The direction of the magnetic field? The direction of the electric current? Or... was it the darkness itself that was moving?
This absurd question gripped her. Has any physicist studied this phenomenon? In the middle of the night, when humans can't sleep, in an ordinary hotel room, a red light quietly shifts according to some unknown law. Could this discovery, like Andre Geim and Konstantin Novoselov's creation of graphene using a roll of tape, seem absurd yet worthy of a Nobel Prize?
She wanted to laugh because of her wild imagination, but just as the corners of her mouth opened slightly, they were suppressed by deeper fatigue.
Her eyelids felt as heavy as if they were hung with lead, and she finally closed her eyes again.
The darkness suddenly took on shape and life.
It was no longer a descent into nothingness, but countless monsters, twisting, wriggling, scrambling to climb upwards. Against the backdrop of apocalyptic lava and ruins, these indescribable creatures moved in a remarkably consistent manner—upwards, upwards, fleeing from that blazing inferno.
She should have felt terrified. But strangely, she didn't. She didn't even find the monsters ugly. Many of them seemed to have eyes. Not physical eyeballs, but a sense of being watched. Countless gazes penetrated the barrier of dreams and met her gaze directly.
Those eyes were complex and difficult to understand, filled with anxiety, desire, despair, and a hint of... foreboding mystery.
What were they trying to tell her? About the future?
Lin Xiaoning's heartbeat inexplicably accelerated. She searched frantically among the swarms of frantically climbing monsters, searching for herself. Then, she saw it.
It wasn't a monster. It was two figures, entwined in a tight embrace, suspended in a corner of the chaotic background, forming a strange, still haven. Amidst the apocalyptic landscape below, the two were lost in each other. That figure with seaweed-like hair... it was her! It had to be her!
She saw the look in "her own" eyes—dazed, intoxicated, lost in utter bliss, as if nothing else mattered. Was that... the lingering tenderness of foreplay, or the ecstasy of already being together?
The picture becomes blurry and hot at this moment.
Lin Xiaoning suddenly broke free from this half-asleep, half-awake chaos, her heart pounding, a strange yet familiar heat welling up deep within her body. Her throat was dry, her skin incredibly sensitive, and she could clearly feel the tiny fibers of the air conditioner rubbing against her arm.
How could I have such a dream?
"Maybe... this will help me relax and fall asleep quickly?" A voice in my head timidly suggested, with a hint of self-consolation. This seemed to be the only feasible way to free myself from this tension and anxiety.
Action preceded hesitation. As if possessing a mind of its own, his fingertips gently brushed the sensitive earlobe, then, with a touch of tentative unfamiliarity, slid toward his chest. The fabric of his pajamas brushed against the top of his breast, bringing a subtle, itchy shiver. His body responded honestly, a warmth gathering downward.
She subconsciously pressed her legs together, but the slight friction triggered an even stronger feeling of emptiness.
"Wet..." The realization made her cheeks heat up. Should she take off her underwear? What if...what if the sheets got wet, and the cleaning lady found out tomorrow...it would be so embarrassing. But...with the fabric between them, she still couldn't figure it out.
I couldn't care less. At this moment, sleep and release overwhelmed any sense of shame.
She carefully peeled off the little barrier, her fingertips finally touching the core without any barrier. Her touch was awkward, apologetic, trying to soothe the restless desire. The feeling came, like water gradually heating up, but always just a little short of boiling.
It felt comfortable, but not enough to push her over the edge, sending her into a deep, oblivious sleep.
Imagination begins to fill the gaps uncontrollably.
Who is it? Who can embrace her and fill her at this moment?
The image reappeared, but it was Ye Yidong's face. His gentle smile, his deep, pleasant voice when he was hosting, and his eyes that seemed to speak when they occasionally met hers...
This imagination made her body tremble violently, and a stronger electric current ran through her limbs and bones.
"No!" The remnants of sanity screamed. He didn't lock the door? How could Ye Yidong get in? This was a company-run guesthouse; someone could be walking through the corridor at any moment! Absolutely not! If someone discovered... career, reputation, everything would be over!
But the body betrayed, becoming even wetter and more eager under the caress of imagination.
"If you do this again... I'll scream..." She threatened herself weakly, her voice so broken that it was almost inaudible.
As if in response to her fear, a voice actually came from outside the corridor! It was Sister Wang from the office, with her characteristically loud voice, and she seemed to be calling someone's name, perhaps inviting them to breakfast.
Lin Xiaoning froze instantly, all movements and imaginations came to an abrupt halt. He huddled into the quilt, holding his breath, his heart almost jumping out of his chest.
After a few seconds, the sound faded away, and everything returned to silence.
Was it just an illusion, or was someone getting up early to catch a flight? She let out a long sigh, cold sweat drenching her temples. She reached for her phone, the screen light stinging her eyes again: 4:15 AM.
The world was eerily quiet. In the profound stillness, her hearing became unusually acute. She seemed to hear a faint, yet rhythmic snoring coming from the next room. Was it Ye Yidong? He seemed to be sleeping soundly.
An even crazier, more shameful thought popped up uncontrollably: Should I... call him? Using the excuse of going over the process and hammering out the details of the opening statement as an excuse? And then what? What if he wasn't asleep either... if he came over... or, if I went there myself...
"How shameless!" She cursed herself in her heart. "How can she be called a 'young and beautiful girl'? She's just a complete 'slut'!"
But why did my body want it so much? After a brief pause, the feeling of emptiness only intensified, washing over my shaky will. Morality and emotion could constrain behavior, but they seemed unable to quell the most primitive and honest call of this healthy body.
Healthy. Yes, she was just too healthy. She tried to soothe her moral anxiety with scientific explanations.
Her fingertips slid over the phone screen again, unlocking it. The light illuminated her still-flushed face. In her WeChat contacts, Ye Yidong's profile picture lay quietly. He had used a profile shot, his features sharp and handsome.
At that moment, a remarkably clear sound of water rushing emanated from the next room, penetrating the wall and piercing her eardrums. It was the sound of a flushing toilet. Was he awake?
Four fifty.
The phone's cursor flickered in the dialog box, like a tempting vortex.
The words that had circled countless times in her heart, almost breaking free from their restraints, were almost sent out by her trembling fingertips -
"I want you."
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