Trapped in the dim gloom of the escape room, all I could do was pace back and forth, brainwashing myself with positive mantras to drown out the creeping panic. But just when I thought I had a grip on my nerves, the antique TV set beside us suddenly flickered to life. A grotesque, smiling face of an old woman popped onto the screen—the kind of nightmare fuel meant to scare you straight into an early grave.

I let out a blood-curdling shriek and instinctively threw my arms around the person standing next to me.

Expecting to be shoved away, I froze when a hand began gently patting my back instead—calm, patient, and impossibly tender.

The moment my senses returned, sheer horror washed over me: I was clinging to Song Yubai for dear life. I recoiled instantly, taking three massive steps back, my face burning hot enough to spawn actual steam. But no matter how much I cursed myself for being a boundary-crossing degenerate, I couldn’t un-remember the solid line of his shoulders or the taut, lean waist beneath his thin shirt.

As the game dragged on, I tried my absolute best to keep my distance, but Xu Jiaojiao kept “coincidentally” shoving me right into his path. The weirdest part? Yubai didn’t even attempt to dodge. He just casually let me crash into him time and time again.

It made my head spin. Two years ago, if I so much as grazed his sleeve, he’d react like I’d triggered a security alarm. Now? He didn’t shove me. He didn’t flinch. He literally patted my back to soothe me.

What in the world was wrong with him?

The answer arrived far sooner than I expected. Once we escaped, the group headed out for dinner, but Jiaojiao and her boyfriend pulled a sudden vanishing act, leaving just me, Yubai, and a super outgoing guy we’d just met.

The new guy was insanely friendly, even whipping out his phone to ask for my QR code so we could become close friends. Just as I pulled up my profile, a crisp, icy voice cut through the air:

“Is everyone done eating?”

My reflexes kicked in like a student getting called on by the principal. “All done!”

A subtle battle over the bill broke out between me and the new guy. But all our noble attempts to split the check were utterly rendered meaningless when Yubai casually dropped the ultimate line:

“This restaurant belongs to the Song Group. Put it on my tab.”

Perks of being filthy rich, I guess: never needing a wallet. But he didn’t stop there. He fixed the other guy with a cool, detached stare. “Excuse us, we have private business to attend to.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me away.

He led me straight up to a private VIP suite on the second floor. Before my brain could even register what was happening, he dropped a bomb that completely fried my CPU:

“Be with me.”

Yubai’s gaze dropped to my lips—the very lips he’d missed out on kissing during yesterday’s King’s Game. The memory of me saying “I don’t like him anymore” flicked through his mind, and his cold, obsidian eyes instantly darkened.

In the next second, his hand cupped the back of my neck, tilting my face upward.

Then his mouth slammed down on mine—intense, unyielding, and completely dominant.

My mind exploded. In the original plot, this very kiss was supposed to belong to the main heroine, Chu Nuannuan, in a completely different setting! Why was everything suddenly flying completely off the rails? This plot twist… was never in the original script!

Yubai’s kiss was the polar opposite of his usual abstinent, saintly persona. It was violent and possessive, like an unannounced invasion. The more I thrashed and struggled, the tighter his arm locked around my waist.

By the time the assault finally ended, my legs were pure jelly, and I began sliding helplessly down the wall. Right before I hit the floor, a strong arm swept out to catch me, hauling me flush against his warm chest. Yubai wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, unadulterated triumph written all over his face. He pinched my chin, his thumb lightly trailing across my swollen, reddened lips with a gaze that was lazy, dark, and dangerously sharp.

Right now, his mind was anchored to a single conclusion:

The second my soul re-entered my body, I violently shoved him away. This time, he actually let go. Staring at his dazed expression—looking like a man who’d just lost his Wi-Fi connection—I almost blurted out, ‘Are you insane?’ but managed to slam the brakes, filtering it into: “Are you… sick?”

He stared at me, completely ignoring my question. “Be with me.”

I stood on tiptoe and pressed the back of my hand against his forehead—a feat that felt like climbing Everest given our 6’3″ to 5’5″ height difference. Luckily, he had the decency to bend down and cooperate.

“I don’t have a fever. I’m not dreaming. This isn’t a game. I’m serious.” He grabbed my hand, his deep voice dripping with rare sincerity. “I was prejudiced against you before. That was my mistake. Qingran… give me your answer.”

These were the exact words I had yearned to hear a million times over. But now that it was actually happening, I couldn’t accept it.

I only had one answer for him: “I’m sorry. I used to like you a lot, but that’s in the past. Right now… I like someone else.”

Without another word, I turned around and sprinted out the door.

Yubai made a move to chase after me, but his phone suddenly buzzed relentlessly in his pocket. A major corporate crisis had broken out: corrupted chips, canceled client contracts, reporters swarming the headquarters. His face went instantly dark. Gritting his teeth, he barked out remote commands over the line while staring at the empty doorway where I had long since vanished.

He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath, murmuring to himself: “It’s fine. Running away this time… doesn’t mean you’ll escape the next.”