CHAPTER 278: CHAPTER 278; FIX YOUR LIPSTICK

He wanted to lose control, but not here. Not yet.

Instead, he adjusted her blouse, smoothed her hair, and kissed the tip of her nose in a moment so startlingly gentle it shattered the tension for just a heartbeat.

Then he stood with her still in his arms, set her carefully on her feet, and walked past her to the door.

As he opened it, he muttered without turning, "Fix your lipstick."

The door clicked open, but he didn’t leave. He lingered there, silent, a wall of heat and control in the narrow space behind her. She could feel his gaze on her back, unmoving, and unreadable.

He didn’t say another word. Just stepped back, letting her fix her lipstick in the glass panel of a cabinet. She did it with shaky hands, refusing to meet his eyes in the reflection.

"When she finally turned, his eyes swept over her, her flushed cheeks, the faint smudge at the edge of her lip, the wrinkle in her blouse. Not with hunger, but with cool precision, like he was checking if she’d survived the storm he’d just put her through."

Apparently satisfied with her look, he reached for the door.

The hallway was quiet. Sterile lights were turned on. And no one was around.

They walked in silence....

She took a step, then another... and faltered.

Her legs weren’t listening. She felt weak all over, and this was just from a kiss. A kiss in a godforsaken place, no less. Why did he always have to do things in the most inconvenient places?

She tried to walk, one step, then another, but her knees wobbled, nearly giving out beneath her.

He turned at the sound of her stumble, eyes narrowing.

Before she could catch herself, he crossed the short distance in two strides.

"You can’t even walk properly," he muttered, more observation than insult.

Then, without asking, he swept her up, one arm beneath her thighs, the other around her back, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She squeaked, wriggling slightly. "Put me down!"

He didn’t slow. "Can you?"

She glared up at him, lips pressed together.

That hint of a smirk returned, annoyingly smug. "Didn’t think so."

Her protest died in her throat.

He didn’t say a word, just started walking, calm and unhurried, carrying her through the corridor like she was something fragile and already his.

They came across several doctors and nurses who sneakedly eyed them.

She swatted lightly at his chest. "I said put me down."

He looked at her, eyes unreadable. "Can you walk? Your legs are wobbling," he said flatly. "You want me to let you fall on hospital tiles?"

She opened her mouth to argue, but her legs still tingled with weakness, and the hallway suddenly felt a little too long for her to walk all through until they were out.

She struggled a bit, pushing against his chest. "It’s just for a second..."

He cut her off, voice cool. "Then stop shaking."

She froze for a second.

"...Shut up," she muttered, turning her face into his shoulder feeling shy and embarrassed.

His mouth twitched, barely, but it was there. The hint of a smirk.

His fingers flexed slightly against her thigh. "Didn’t think I did that much," he murmured, barely audible.

She buried her face in his shoulder to hide the heat crawling up her skin.

The elevator dinged at the end of the corridor.

Still carrying her, he stepped in without pause, the doors closing behind them.

No one spoke.

She didn’t ask him to put her down again.

The elevator ride was silent, thick with everything unsaid.

She didn’t lift her head from his shoulder, and he didn’t ask her to. His grip on her never loosened, steady and certain, as if letting go wasn’t an option.

When the doors slid open, the crisp night air met them, cool and quiet. The private lot was nearly empty, save for a black SUV parked at the curb, engine already running, headlights cutting through the dark.

He strode toward it without hesitation.

The guard stepped out to open the back door but quickly stepped aside at a glance from him.

He adjusted his hold and lowered her into the seat with unhurried care, like she was porcelain and he didn’t trust the leather to hold her on its own.

She tried not to look at him. Her pulse was still misbehaving, and she hated how easily he made her feel like this, like she belonged nowhere else but in his arms.

He leaned in, hands braced on either side of her, gaze flicking over her one last time. Checking again. Always checking.

"Seatbelt," he said quietly.

She fumbled for it, fingers still shaky, and clicked it into place.

He shut the door with a quiet finality, then walked around to the other side and slid in beside her.

The car pulled away from the curb, smooth and silent.

In the van, the group was quiet, exhausted, and fulfilled. Qingqing had fallen asleep against Minghao’s shoulder. Zhihao leaned back, staring at the roof with that faraway look that meant his mind was still replaying moments on the Go board.

"Mommy, are you okay?" Zhihao noticed the strangeness in his mother’s face, and for carrying, it was a normal thing when it came to their father.

"I’m fine..." She responded before ruffling his hair. They all gazed at her and apart from a flushed face, she seemed to be okay.

Feihao sat between Twilight and Xu Xie, her leg crossed over the other, a peaceful smile stuck to her lips. "Today... was better than the holidays, I had so much fun..." she mumbled.

Xu Xie patted her head. "And you, little commander, have earned happiness for at least a week. You will have a happy week ahead..."

Twilight laughed softly. "Let’s not lie to her. It won’t last even more than two days." Things could always happen along the way that are annoying.