When I woke up the next morning, I found myself completely plastered against Sheng Yang’s body.

I shifted slightly, trying to sneakily slide out from his embrace.

He stirred, a soft frown crossing his face as a raspy, sleep-roughened voice rumbled against my ear:

“Babe, don’t move.”

“Let me go!”

Instead of releasing me, he buried his face deeper into the crook of my neck, pressing a warm kiss there while his hand slid down to my waist, hiking me flush against him.

My ears caught fire instantly.

He pressed his forehead against my skin, murmuring,

“Just give me a minute to calm down. Stop shifting.”

And just like that… I stayed put, completely domesticated.

Three nights in a row, the guest room bed somehow remained “broken.”

Sheng Yang had the audacity to claim, “The repairmen are all on holiday leave.”

On October 3rd, convention day arrived.

I woke up early to slip into my outfit and finish up my makeup, as I was meeting Xiao Ning on-site.

Sheng Yang sat in the living room, looking deceptively calm, though his eyes followed my every move toward the bedroom door.

Wearing the sleek black dress, I gave a little spin right in front of him:

“How does it look?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he crooked a finger, signaling me to come closer.

Suspicious, I walked over. “What? Is it too short? Does it look bad?”

He caught me by the waist, effortlessly pulling me down to sit right between his thighs, his fingers lightly tracing the hem of the dress.

“Dressed like this… what am I supposed to do if I suddenly don’t want to let you leave the house?”

His thumb brushed a slow line across the sheer black lace hugging my thigh, letting out an approving little “tsk” as if appraising a five-star meal.

Startled, I tried to pull back, but his hand clamped around the back of my knee, anchoring me firmly in place.

My face burned. “Stop playing around, I’m going to be late!”

A smirk touched his lips. “Pay the toll, and I’ll let you go.”

I leaned in and pressed a quick peck to his cheek. “Good enough?”

He shook his head. “Try again.”

I bit my lip, my voice dropping to a shy whisper: “Close your eyes.”

He obediently squeezed his eyes shut.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned down and planted a proper, serious kiss on his mouth.

Pulling back, my face was as red as a boiled lobster. “Happy now?”

He opened his eyes, his voice dipping lower and rougher: “Still not enough.”

Exasperated, I glared at him. “What else could you possibly want?”

A dangerous, wicked glint flashed in his eyes as his arms wrapped around the back of my neck:

“Turn around. Let me help you unzip your dress.”

Before I could even voice a protest, his lips claimed mine all over again.

The kiss was so dizzying and hot that I was gasping for air by the time he finally let me up for oxygen.

He gave my waist a light squeeze. “How about now?”

“No way!”

And just like that… I got kissed again.

By the time my lips were thoroughly tingling and numb, I had no choice but to wave the white flag of surrender:

“Fine… just unzipping, right?”

He nodded. “Cross my heart, I won’t cross any lines.”

I gave a tiny, defeated nod.

He grinned like he’d just won the lottery. “Let’s go, then!”

That afternoon, after the convention wrapped up, I sat in the passenger seat riding the world’s most embarrassing wave of second-hand mortification.

Sheng Yang drove me back in leisurely silence, acting as if the morning’s antics had never happened.

Or so I thought.

The second we stepped through his front door,

he scooped me right off my feet and hoisted me up to sit on the entryway shoe cabinet.

His hand slowly traced the bare expanse of my back along the open zipper of the dress—cool against my skin, carrying a heavy, unmistakable current of danger.

I slapped his hand away. “Stop touching weird places!”

He chuckled. “If I don’t touch, how am I supposed to get this off?”

My face flushed bright crimson. “You absolute menace!”

He laughed even more mischievously. “Babe, you were shamelessly copping a feel of my abs last night, so we’re even.”

Click. The strap of my thigh-high gave way.

He leaned down, slowly peeling it down my leg while his knuckles deliberately brushed against my sensitive skin.

Overheated, I hissed: “If you’re going to take it off, hurry up!”

He shrugged lazily. “The books say anticipation is half the romance, why are you rushing me?”

Finally, after a painfully drawn-out performance of “almost undressing,” he just laughed, reached over to wipe a smudge of smeared lipstick from my mouth, and stopped.

I blinked in utter confusion. “Wait… we’re not taking it off anymore?”

He burst into laughter. “Keep going and I won’t be able to guarantee your safety.”

It finally clicked: the jerk had just been teasing me the whole time!

Indignant, I leaned forward and lightly bit down on his lower lip.

He rubbed his mouth with a chuckle. “Feisty today, aren’t we?”

I turned my face away in a huff. He chuckled, pulling me onto his lap and pinching my cheek affectionately.

“Babe, if you really want me to take that dress off for real… how about we go pick up our marriage license instead?”

That single sentence rendered me entirely speechless, instantly driving all the blood rushing straight to my face.

He gave my hip a playful poke. “Go clean up, you look like a little kitten that rolled around in a dust storm.”

By the end of the first semester of sophomore year, both of our families launched a synchronized, full-scale campaign of nagging:

“You two need to go get your marriage licenses already! Dragging your feet is a waste of your youth!”

That very afternoon, having finally finalized the details, Sheng Yang didn’t even wait another minute.

He whipped out a velvet box from god knows where, sliding a dazzling ring straight onto my finger.

“There. Done. You’re officially mine now.”

Before I could even process what had just happened, I was dragged straight to the civil affairs bureau to register our marriage.

Stepping back out through the glass doors, Sheng Yang looked like he’d just won the Megamillions lottery:

he grabbed my hand right outside the entrance and started snapping a hundred selfies.

He even posted over a dozen Instagram stories with matching captions like: Permanently claimed. Don’t even bother double-tapping.

All the way home, he kept happily humming sappy love songs in a tone so violently off-key it probably scared every bird within a five-mile radius into changing migration routes.