Chu Hongyu wiped away Ning Yuan's tears and gently patted the back of her hand: "Xiao Ning, I'm going out for a bit, I'll be right back. Stay by yourself for a while, don't overthink things."
She then instructed the waiter to bring in a pot of hot tea.
Ning Yuan initially wanted to refuse, but ultimately nodded and said, "Okay."
She did need some hot tea to calm herself down.
After the waiter closed the door, the room fell silent again.
Ning Yuan curled up on the sofa, hugging her knees with her arms, staring blankly at the deep blue night sky outside the window.
The autumn night breeze carried a hint of coolness, blowing in through the half-open window and ruffling the stray hairs on her forehead.
Her mind was a mess, like a tangled ball of yarn, impossible to untangle.
It's been almost two years. She's been like a madwoman. Countless nights, she wakes up from nightmares, her pillow soaked with tears.
When she saw Zhou Yan at the banquet just now, she almost thought she was hallucinating.
That familiar face, that upright figure, were exactly the same as Rong Zhaonan's.
But the way he scrutinized me, his unfamiliar tone, and the strange look in his eyes...
Ning Yuan closed her eyes and gently pressed her hand against her chest.
"Knock knock—" The knocking sounded again, interrupting Ning Yuan's chaotic thoughts.
She assumed it was a waiter bringing tea, so without looking up, she said in a slightly hoarse voice, "Come in, just put the tea on the table."
The door was pushed open gently, the footsteps were so light they were almost inaudible.
She closed her eyes, rubbed her temples, and tried to calm herself down.
A cup of hot tea was handed to her, and a faint lemon aroma wafted into her nostrils.
She opened her eyes, and without thinking, suddenly grabbed the other person's wrist, simultaneously pulling out the hairpin from her hair and pressing the sharp tip against the other person's neck.
The entire sequence of movements was executed flawlessly and with lightning speed, a result of muscle memory she developed through countless training sessions.
"Who?" Ning Yuan's voice was as cold as ice.
But when she saw the face of the person in front of her, she froze.
It's him!
Zhou Yan!
Ning Yuan then realized that the person who came was not a waiter, but a tall man in a Hong Kong government senior police superintendent's uniform.
Ning Yuan's hands trembled, and the hairpin almost fell to the ground.
She stared at him in disbelief, her gaze shifting from sharp to bewildered, and finally turning into a misty haze.
"You...you..." She opened her mouth, but found that she couldn't say a word.
Seeing her distraught appearance, Zhou Yan raised an eyebrow slightly, and with a gentle twist of his wrist, he broke free from Ning Yuan's grasp.
He grabbed her wrist with his other hand, held her slender waist, and casually took the hairpin from her hand. Then, examining the sharpened hairpin, a slight smile played on his lips.
"What, Miss Ning, are you planning to assault a police officer?"
The man's warm breath brushed against her face, raising goosebumps.
Ning Yuan's heart was pounding. She felt like a butterfly caught in a spider's web, unable to move.
Being so close, she could clearly feel the warmth emanating from him—a familiar yet strange sensation.
For two years, countless nights she had touched that face and felt its warmth in her dreams, but now it was as if she were looking through a thin mist, unable to see it clearly.
“…Anan?” she asked tentatively, her voice trembling violently.
Upon hearing this name, Zhou Yan's phoenix eyes suddenly narrowed, and a wicked smile appeared at the corners of his eyes.
He lowered his head, almost touching her lips, and said in a soft, almost flirtatious tone, "Yes, I am Anan."
His warm breath sprayed on her face, carrying a hint of danger.
His long, slender hand, clad in white gloves, moved up her back and caressed her smooth back.
Then, he leaned forward, his thin lips almost touching her neck.
The moment his cold metal badge touched her skin, Ning Yuan suddenly woke up.
She pushed Zhou Yan away as if she had been electrocuted, then twisted her waist and hips to flip him over and pin him to the sofa. She then spread her legs and knelt on top of him, looking down at him from above.
She snatched the wide-brimmed hat that symbolized his status from his head and threw it aside, revealing a head of black hair and beautiful, dark phoenix eyes.
Ning Yuan roughly reached into his hair, pulled back his bangs, and looked at his forehead, searching for that familiar scar.
But……
It was completely bare there, with nothing there at all.
Ning Yuan froze, her eyes wide with disbelief, trembling as she cupped his face in her hands, murmuring to herself—
"Why...why...no...why..."
Where's the scar? Where's the scar on his forehead? Why! Why isn't it there?!
She was like a child who had lost their favorite toy, bewildered and helpless.
Zhou Yan crossed his long legs, lazily placed his hand on her waist, raised an eyebrow at her, and asked with a playful expression, "What are you looking for?"
“Impossible…impossible…” Ning Yuan trembled incessantly, and suddenly reached out to untie his tie and collar.
"You still have...you still have..."
She remembered that he had other scars on his body, which were medals he had earned through countless battles, marks that belonged only to Rong Zhaonan.
Zhou Yan tilted his head back with a roguish air, a smirk playing on his lips. His deep gaze fell on Ning Yuan's flustered face, like a hunter admiring his prey that had fallen into his trap.
"While I am flattered by Miss Ning's enthusiasm, this is not a suitable place for such things..."
He suddenly grabbed Ning Yuan's wrist, preventing her from making any further moves. His long, strong fingers gripped her wrist tightly like iron clamps.
Ning Yuan abruptly shook off his hand, her eyes filled with pain and despair: "You're not...you...who are you?!"
The man leaned back lazily on the sofa, his long legs crossed and his long arms outstretched. His phoenix eyes were like deep pools, dark and unfathomable.
He asked with a half-smile, "Who do you think I should be?"
The white moonlight shone through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating his angular face and outlining a familiar silhouette.
Those eyebrows, those nose, those thin lips—they were strikingly similar to Rong Zhaonan in my memory, as if he had never left.
Yet he felt so unfamiliar with her. He asked her, "Who should I be?"
Ning Yuan trembled uncontrollably, her slender arms suddenly wrapping tightly around his neck and shoulders like vines, pulling him into her arms with all her might.
Like a drowning person desperately grasping at the last straw.
She asked in a trembling voice, "Anan, do you...do you remember nothing? Have you forgotten...forgotten something...were you injured...?"
Was it him? Or not him?
Regardless, at this moment, all she wanted was to hold the face she had longed for day and night.
Whether it's a hug or a scent, he should have a familiar mark on him!
Her soft, fragrant body pressed against him, and the man took a deep breath, slowly stroking her back.
"Maybe, maybe I've forgotten?" he said casually.
The man's long, slender hands slowly and deliberately clasped her snow-white thighs.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
