Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Cheng’S PRIVATE VILLA – NIGHT
The Rolls pulled into the driveway just as the villa’s exterior lights flicked on, casting golden glows against stone walls. The chauffeur exited the car, opening the door.
Lian stepped out, the hem of his deep blue dress catching the breeze.
Cheng emerged next, moving with that careless, predatory grace of his — all lean muscle and sharp confidence. His jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned. That usual smirk lingered on his lips — half arrogance, half amusement.
“I don’t like being ignored,” he said coolly as Lian brushed past him.
“I’m not ignoring you,” Lian murmured without turning. “I’m just… tired.”
“Oh, you’re definitely ignoring me,” Cheng replied, following him inside. “You’ve been quiet since we left the boutique. That usually means you’re overthinking again.”
Lian stopped in the foyer and turned to face him. “I’m not used to being… paraded around.”
Cheng raised a brow, stepping closer, hands slipping casually into his pockets. “Paraded? You mean taken care of? Treated like someone who matters?”
Lian gave him a tight smile. “I was dressed like a porcelain doll in front of three women who kept calling me the lucky one. I don’t feel like I matter. I feel like an accessory.”
Cheng chuckled low, stepping even closer. “If you were just an accessory, I wouldn’t have let you leave that boutique with half their store in the car. Don’t flatter yourself, muñeca. I don’t spend that kind of money on things I don’t want to keep.”
Lian’s breath caught at the word muñeca. The deosn't knows the meaning but he sure loves it.
“You don’t even know me,” Lian said, quieter now. “Not really.”
Cheng tilted his head, like a predator studying something too delicate to pounce on.
“Maybe not,” he said. “But I know the way your pulse jumps when I step too close. Like right now.”
He closed the final distance between them his chest inches from Lian’s.
Lian didn’t move.
His breathing hitched.
Cheng’s hand lifted, brushing a knuckle down his cheek. “I know you act like you hate this. Hate me. But you never pull away.”
Lian swallowed hard.
“I should.”
“But you don’t.”
His fingers slid under Lian’s chin, tilting his face up gently.
“You don’t need to pretend with me. You already belong to me,” Cheng whispered. “Whether you like it or not.”
The words should’ve terrified Lian.
But they didn’t.
They set something burning low in his stomach. Dangerous. Unfamiliar.
“I hate you,” Lian whispered.
Cheng smiled — a slow, wicked smirk.
“No, princesa. You hate how much you want this.”
And then — he kissed him.
Hard.
No warning. No soft build-up.
Cheng’s mouth claimed his with searing heat, like he’d been waiting all night to taste him. It wasn’t gentle, and it wasn’t sweet it was possessive. A storm of heat and hunger.
Lian stiffened for half a second — then everything inside him buckled.
His hands gripped Cheng’s shirt instinctively. He didn’t know what he was doing, only that it felt like drowning in something he wasn’t supposed to want but did.
He kissed him back.
God help him, he kissed him back.
Cheng’s hands slid around his waist, one palm flat against the curve of Lian’s spine, pulling him closer with no space left between them. It was fire, chaos, everything Lian had told himself he didn’t want.
He broke away first panting cheeks flushed, lips parted.
Cheng didn’t move. His hands stayed where they were, eyes dark and blown wide.
“That’s why I don’t trust you,” Lian gasped.
Cheng grinned, lips brushing his again, softer now. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust yourself.”
Lian shoved him not hard, just enough to put inches between them.
He turned on his heel and stalked toward the stairs, pulse pounding so loud it echoed in his ears.
“Go to sleep, Mei,” Cheng called after him, voice wicked. “You’ve got class in the morning. Don’t want to disappoint your adoring fans.”
Lian didn’t respond.
He didn’t even look back.
But his fingers were still trembling when he closed the bedroom door behind him.
Cheng’S PRIVATE VILLA – Lian’S BEDROOM, NIGHT
Lian slammed the door behind him, but the satisfying thud did nothing to calm the storm inside his chest.
He leaned back against it, breathing hard, eyes wide like he was still running not from someone chasing him, but from himself.
His lips were still tingling.
He wiped them with the back of his hand, like he could erase what just happened. But the warmth lingered. The scent of Cheng’s cologne clung to his clothes, to his skin.
“I let him kiss me,” Lian whispered aloud, his voice hoarse with disbelief.
He slid to the floor, arms wrapped around his knees, heart rattling against his ribs.
That kiss wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to want it.
But he had.
God, he had wanted it.
The kiss still burned on his lips, not from heat, but from memory. And it wasn’t just the kiss — it was everything around it. The way Cheng had looked at him, spoken to him, touched him.
Too intimate. Too real.
And that’s what scared him.
He’d kissed him back.
Willingly.
He buried his face in his arms, exhaling slow, like he could breathe the moment away — but it lingered. Thick. Heavy. His chest ached from how hard he was holding himself together.
He wasn’t supposed to want any of this. Not the kiss.
He stood up slowly, still barefoot, padding across the soft rug toward the bathroom. He flicked on the light and stared at the mirror.
Same face. Same makeup. Same dark eyes framed by curled lashes.
But something was off.
It was subtle. Invisible to everyone else.
But to him — it was loud.
He looked less like Mei and more like a ghost of himself, trapped in a skin that didn’t fit. His reflection blinked back at him, eyes tired, too full.
He rubbed at his lips with his fingers like that could erase the way Cheng had kissed him. But nothing helped.
The knock on the door startled him.
“Miss?” Jin’s voice was muffled but respectful. “There’s something for you downstairs. The Master asked that you receive it tonight.”
Lian didn’t answer right away. His voice was low when it finally came. “Okay. I’ll be there.”
SITTING ROOM – TEN MINUTES LATER
A black box sat on the table.
Lian’s steps slowed when he saw it. His heart gave a strange thump.
He walked over and stared at it for a moment before finally lifting the lid.
Inside was a necklace.
A thin silver chain.
At the center, a small sapphire — deep blue, soft in the firelight.
There was a small folded card under it.
He picked it up with careful fingers.
You don’t need to say thank you. But I hope it fits.
Wear it tomorrow.
— R.
That was it.
No big speech. No reason why.
Just a gift. And a quiet request.
He didn’t smile. He just stood there, holding the box like it might explain something if he looked hard enough.
“Wear it tomorrow,” he whispered under his breath.
But why?
He closed the box slowly, still thinking about the note.
Then he turned and walked back to his room.
Cheng’S BEDROOM
Cheng leaned on the edge of his bed, shirt half-buttoned, drink untouched. The villa was quiet, and for once, he didn’t like the silence.
He thought of her, of Mei.
Or whatever parts of her he was still trying to figure out.
She’d kissed him back. He’d felt it — not just her lips, but the give. The way her fingers gripped his shirt.
And yet… he could still see the war in her eyes.
He wasn’t stupid. He could feel the hesitation. The push and pull.
But it didn’t matter.
She wasn’t running.
That was enough.
For now.
He leaned back and exhaled.
“Damn you,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re making me soft.”
But he didn’t say it like a warning.
He said it like a confession.
The morning light filtered in through half-drawn curtains, warming the room with a soft, golden glow. Lian stood near the window, arms folded loosely over his chest, hair still damp from a rushed shower. His reflection in the glass looked calm. Collected.
But inside?
A storm.
He should be dressing up for school but Jin had already informed him that he won't attend lecture today. He asked him for reason but Jin didn't reply.
“Get dressed,” Cheng’s voice said behind him, low and steady. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”
Lian turned, startled. Cheng leaned against the doorway in dark trousers and a crisp white shirt — no tie, no jacket, just that effortless kind of power that didn’t need dressing up.
“Where are we going?” Lian asked.
Cheng’s eyes flicked to him, unreadable. “To see my parents.”
Lian’s breath caught. “What?”
Cheng straightened. “They requested a formal meeting. Since the wedding is now public… they want to meet my fiancée.”
“you're parents”. The word tasted bitter in Lian’s mouth.