Chapter 80: "Could You Let Me Stay for One Night?"

The moonlight, hazy and gentle, pierced through the clouds and spilled a thousand streams of silver, softly enveloping the two of them.

Qin Yichi innocently thought she simply didn’t want to walk. He stared at her for a long moment, then suddenly released her hand and crouched down before her, instinctively.

“Come on, I’ll carry you.”

Qiao Zhen was stunned, a little dazed, her flawless fair skin blossoming into a faint blush that crept all the way to her neck.

She was clearly drunk, yet still retained a sliver of clarity.

She was irresistibly adorable.

Qin Yichi’s throat suddenly felt dry as he gazed at her, eyes deep and shadowed, unable to look away.

He truly wished he could spirit her away, take her home.

After a moment, Qiao Zhen finally reacted. She obediently walked over, climbed onto his back, and looped her arms gently around his neck.

His back was broad and firm, warm and reassuring—a comfort she could trust.

Qiao Zhen instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him like an octopus. She spoke with measured politeness, as if articulating every word with care: “Thank you, Qin Yichi. You’re such a good person.”

Thinking that wasn’t quite enough, Qiao Zhen raised her thumb to him and, like a programmed machine, repeated, “You are a truly good man—a very, very good man!”

Qin Yichi jostled her a little, chuckling softly as he continued forward with her on his back.

This little drunkard was surprisingly well-mannered.

But not long after, Qiao Zhen pointed to herself, her voice growing faint: “But I—I’m not good.”

Qin Yichi couldn’t help but laugh. “How are you not good?”

“I’m just not. I’m really… bad.”

Qiao Zhen quietly buried her head in his shoulder, her eyelashes fluttering lightly as she wrestled with her conscience.

She truly was terrible.

Not only was she trying to seduce him while drunk, she harbored all sorts of improper intentions toward him—she even coveted his body…

The night was veiled in mist, the sky above a vibrant, dazzling canvas scattered with twinkling stars.

All the way, Qiao Zhen clung to Qin Yichi’s warm, steady back, her arms looped around his neck like a small creature.

She nestled into his shoulder with a touch of greed, murmuring his name over and over:

“Qin Yichi.”

“Hmm?” The man responded patiently, his voice low and magnetic, tinged with a lazy, rakish charm.

“Qin Yichi.”

“Mm.”

Hearing his response, Qiao Zhen pressed her lips together, her heart bubbling with pink, heart-shaped joy. Without realizing it, she held him even tighter.

She nuzzled affectionately against his neck, leaning close to his right ear, her voice sweet and soft: “Qin Yichi~”

“I’m here.”

Each time she called, he answered her with care.

Their footsteps echoed in the dim hallway, warm orange light gently illuminating above, enveloping them in a tender glow.

Home already.

So fast, how did time pass so quickly?

After a long while, Qiao Zhen reluctantly let go, steadying herself on the ground.

The moment she left his warm, familiar back, she felt a sudden emptiness inside.

Perhaps it was the cold outside—her nose was tinged red, her gaze still hazy with drunkenness.

Qin Yichi squeezed her hand, coaxing her softly, “Goodnight, little one.”

“Wait, wait a minute!” Qiao Zhen sniffled, calling out to him anxiously.

She quickly unzipped her small backpack. “Qin Yichi, I have a little gift for you too.”

She squatted down, rummaged for a long time, and finally produced a red rose.

It was a handmade, crocheted rose shaped like a wine glass, each stitch of the deep red petals delicate and intricate, as if it were a carefully sculpted work of art.

Under the soft light, it appeared both elegant and passionate.

Qiao Zhen’s lips curved into a gentle smile. Like a child presenting her treasure, she lifted the rose toward him, even mimicking a sound effect: “Ta-da~ For you!”

She had followed video tutorials, spending hours crafting many roses—most were quite ugly, but this one was by far the prettiest.

The moment Qiao Zhen held out the rose, Qin Yichi froze, his heart suddenly thrown off balance.

He wondered if perhaps he was drunk as well.

It all felt like an ephemeral dream, as if standing atop soft clouds—one misstep, and he would plummet into heartbreak.

Qiao Zhen waved the rose in her hand, pulling him back to reality.

Qin Yichi pinched his own finger hard, finally realizing that everything before him was real.

It was as if a spring breeze swept through his heart, stirring wildflowers everywhere.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he reached out to take the rose.

But in the next instant, Qiao Zhen pulled her hand back, suddenly unwilling to give it to him.

Qin Yichi tilted his head, smiling inexplicably, cajoling her, “Didn’t you say you were giving it to me?”

Qiao Zhen gripped the stem tightly, not daring to meet his gaze. Her voice trembled with nervousness as she stammered, “If you accept this flower, then… you belong to me.”

There was an unspoken intimacy and ambiguity in her words.

Valentine’s Day—a single everlasting red rose spoke of a heart for one person alone, a wish for a passionate, grand love together.

These words were taught to her by Chen Meixiang, who insisted it was sure to enchant him, to draw him in, to test his feelings.

Qiao Zhen’s little face was taut, her gaze evasive, head lowered and unable to look at him.

“Qiao Zhen.” Qin Yichi called her name softly, something profound flickering in his long, dark eyes.

She slowly lifted her small face. “Yes?”

He crouched down so their eyes met as he took the rose from her, ruffling her hair with a voice both bewitching and sincere: “I’ve always belonged to you.”

Qiao Zhen took a few seconds to process, her mind suddenly going blank.

Moments later, her fair cheeks flushed with a rosy haze, even the tips of her ears growing hot as if set aflame.

She…

She felt as if she had been seduced in return!

Oh no, oh no—where were her strategists now, what was she supposed to do, what should she do next?!

Qiao Zhen quickly buried her face, cheeks burning, mind whirring for a countermeasure, her eyes darting as she plotted.

After a long pause, she hid a sly smile, pretending to rummage through her bag.

“What are you looking for?” Qin Yichi asked.

Qiao Zhen paused for two seconds, then lifted her head pitifully, her eyes rimmed red, long lashes trembling as if she might cry at any moment.

“Qin Yichi, I…I think I forgot my house key.”

Hearing this, Qin Yichi helped her search, even checking all her pockets thoroughly.

It really wasn’t there.

Qiao Zhen squatted on the ground, drawing circles with her finger, looking both anxious and aggrieved, muttering softly, “What am I going to do? I can’t sleep on the street, it’s so cold outside, I’m so scared…”

Just as Qin Yichi was about to say something, Qiao Zhen reached out and gently tugged at his sleeve.

She looked like a small, helpless animal, her dewy eyes filled with nothing but him, as if she had suffered the greatest grievance in the world. Her voice quivered as she pleaded, “Qin Yichi, could you… let me stay with you tonight?”

The moment those words fell, it was as if a thunderclap exploded above Qin Yichi's head—his reason shattered into pieces.

The heart he’d been holding back finally burst open.