The rest of the meal felt like sitting through a high-stakes final exam. Once we finally survived and made our escape, with Song Ci using my thesis deadline as an excuse to pull us away early, we headed home.

Leaning against the passenger window and watching the city lights streak past, I suddenly realized this life wasn’t half bad. Sure, I had lost my clubbing privileges, but having someone to shelter me from the storm felt undeniably safe.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Song Ci asked.

“I was just thinking…” I looked over at his face, framed in shadows, and the words slipped out: “Professor Song, you look ridiculously handsome today.”

“Only today?” He arched an eyebrow.

“You’re always handsome, but today you’re… overachieving.”

A low chuckle escaped his lips. The light turned red, and the car glided to a halt. He reached over, cupping the back of my neck to draw me into a kiss so deep it temporarily fried my remaining brain cells.

“Since you think I’m so handsome…” He lightly nipped my bottom lip, his voice dropping into a rasping, hypnotic murmur. “…how do you plan to reward me when we get home?”

The light turned green. The car moved forward as if nothing had happened, leaving my heart hammering against my ribs like a panicked student facing a midnight deadline. I curled into my seat and tried to negotiate weakly:

“Professor Song… considering I was already ‘overworked’ last night and spent today playing the model daughter-in-law… can I pay this reward off in installments?”

He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel, letting out a dry laugh. “Installments? The interest on that compounds daily, Mrs. Song. Are you sure you can afford it?”

Instantly, visions of loan-shark-style extortion in the bedroom flashed through my mind. I shuddered. “Never mind… I think a spiritual reward works just fine. How about I compliment you three times a day?”

“Too hollow,” he dismissed immediately. “I prefer rewards with tangible value.”

We pulled into the garage, and the engine cut out, plunging us into a suspiciously quiet stillness. Song Ci opened my door and offered his hand with the flawless chivalry of a fairytale prince. “Out you get, little scammer.”

I placed my hand in his palm, using his leverage to stand, only to discover… my legs were still completely shot.

Yeah, “installments” was definitely a terrible idea with a greedy lender like him.

The moment we stepped into the bedroom, I tried to slip into the bathroom to take cover, but Song Ci caught me by the collar and hauled me right back.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He unhurriedly removed his glasses and set them on the shelf. Without the lenses softening his features, the sharp intensity in his eyes was fully exposed, locking onto me like a predator eyeing its prey.

“The clothes I bought for you arrived. Aren’t you going to try them on?”

I blinked, bewildered. “What clothes?”

“Ten dresses to replace the ones I confiscated.” He walked into the walk-in closet and retrieved an exquisite gift box.

A terrible foreboding washed over me. Knowing his old-fashioned taste, was it going to be grandma floral prints or a turtleneck sweater that wrapped me up like a mummy? But when he opened the box, I froze.

It was a long, black velvet dress, cut with breathtaking precision. The square neckline subtly highlighted my collarbones, and the tailored waist snatched everything in perfectly.

“Go change.” He handed it to me, a flicker of anticipation in his gaze.

I retreated to the bathroom and deliberately took my sweet time. But standing in front of the mirror, I had to admit: Song Ci’s taste was downright terrifying. The dress was infinitely more conservative than my skimpy slip dress, yet on my body, it hugged every single curve in a way that took my breath away.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. Song Ci was sitting on the edge of the bed, slowly undoing his cufflinks. He looked up, his gaze lingering on me a beat longer than usual. That single beat was all it took to charge the air with static electricity.

“Come here,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

I dutifully walked over and did a quick turn. “So? Is Professor Song satisfied with…”

Before I could finish, he yanked me firmly into his lap. I tumbled against him, the velvet fabric rubbing against his dress pants in a hazy, dangerous friction.

“Stunning.” His fingers traced the line of my spine, sending a soft shiver through me. “Though it does have one flaw.”

“What flaw?”

He leaned in close to my ear, his voice so low it felt like a whispered sin. “It’s too hard to take off.”

Me: “…?”

“It’s fine.” His hot breath brushed against my earlobe. “Consider it my reward… I’ll be extra patient helping you out of it tonight.”

Over the next few weeks, my life felt completely reset. Nightclubs? Totally out of the picture.

In exchange, my closet was overflowing with designer pieces. My bank balance mysteriously bloomed with a few extra zeros, something he casually referred to as “pocket money.” Even my disastrous master’s thesis, under his “affectionate yet firm strict supervision,” successfully passed its first draft.

The only condition: I had to be good.

Monday morning, my alarm blared. I reached out groggily toward the side of the bed, only to find it empty. On the nightstand sat a handwritten note:

My face flared hot as if I had a fever. “That dirty-minded old man!” I buried my face in the pillows and groaned.

The second I walked into my classroom, I sensed something off. Eyes were darting toward me from every direction. I glanced down at myself to check: high-collared shirt, midi skirt falling well past my knees, a textbook picture of a pristine, ideal student. Where was the flaw?

“Niannian!” Jiang Jiang shot toward me like a rocket, looking a full size thinner. “Did you hear? A-Zhai got expelled!”

“Huh???”

“Expelled for ‘moral misconduct’! His family dragged him straight back to his hometown!”

My heart skipped a beat as I recalled the cold, ruthless look in Song Ci’s eyes that night. So he hadn’t just deleted the boy’s contact info. A chilly shiver ran down my spine, but strangely, it was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of security.

This man was normally as polite and proper as a textbook. But if anyone dared cross his boundaries, he dealt with them swiftly and cleanly, like sweeping away trash. No drama, no explanations. He simply made them vanish.

“Niannian… your husband is terrifying,” Jiang Jiang whimpered, trembling. “I’m officially reformed. I’m never inviting you to a bar ever again.”

I just smiled, offering no denial.

When class ended and I stepped out of the campus gates, the familiar black sedan was already waiting. Song Ci was leaning against the car door, impeccably dressed in his suit and glasses, holding a stack of documents. The late afternoon sun dusted his shoulders, he looked like a handsome professor straight off a movie poster. Female students kept stealing glances at him as they passed, but he paid them zero mind.

It was only when his eyes landed on me that his expression softened completely. “Done with class?”

He took my backpack and opened the passenger door. Inside the cup holder sat a boba tea made exactly the way I liked it. I took a sip, the sweetness bursting across my tongue.

“Song Ci.”

“Hmm?” He leaned over to fasten my seatbelt, coming so close I could count his eyelashes.

On impulse, I leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Nothing. Just… marrying you isn’t half bad.”

Song Ci froze for a split second, and then his eyes crinkled with deep amusement. “Quite the revelation, Mrs. Song.” He patted my head fondly. “Looks like my teaching methods are paying off.”

As the car rolled forward, I watched the scenery blur past the window. Maybe life ahead would still involve endless battles of wit and willpower, but as long as this man was by my side, all that strict “management”… was really just his own special way of spoiling me rotten.