Chapter Nine: What Does 419 Mean?

“Hmm… it smells so good—so dedicated, you even took a shower?”

Qiao Chenye’s body stiffened, clearly sensing her softness and warmth, and the restless fingers tracing across his chest. After all, this was the first time she had experienced something like this. Despite her commanding presence in the capital, it was almost laughable that she was treated like this here.

“You’ve had too much to drink.” His voice was low and hoarse, as if struggling to hold something back.

“I’m already twenty-seven. What’s a little alcohol?” Wen Yan sneered, suddenly wrapping her arms around his neck, her whole body soft as she leaned into his embrace. Her cheek brushed against his flushed skin, her tone tinged with barely perceptible fatigue.

“Let me tell you a secret… In my past life, I only lived to thirty, spent every day in hospitals, never properly touched a man’s hand, always cutting into others’ skin, and finally just died from exhaustion on the operating table! Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“…Finally given a chance to start over, I thought I could live freely, but instead, I ended up in such a harsh life for a woman.”

Qiao Chenye’s heart twisted sharply as if something had squeezed it.

He raised his hand, intending to gently remove the already drunken woman from himself. “Don’t talk nonsense. You’re twenty-five. If you’re drunk, I’ll take you home. Your life is rich and full—don’t be so self-destructive.”

“Home?”

Wen Yan suddenly lifted her head, her gaze hazy yet strangely penetrating, staring straight into his eyes behind the mask.

“Your eyes are really beautiful. Hmph! This mask… it’s such a nuisance.” Her fingertips slid along the mask’s edge, lightly brushing his Adam’s apple.

“Don’t worry, a prostitute has to hide their identity. I won’t force you to take off your mask. I’m good, right?” She tilted her head, looking adorable.

Qiao Chenye was charmed by her cuteness and unconsciously smiled tenderly.

Seeing his smiling, peach-blossom eyes, Wen Yan grew bolder.

“Are you healthy? Working as a prostitute in such a large place, they must do regular screenings for eight common infections, right?”

Qiao Chenye’s breath caught suddenly, his Adam’s apple moving under her fingertips before he hoarsely replied, “I don’t have any infectious diseases.”

“Give me your phone!” Wen Yan’s intentions were unclear to Qiao Chenye, but he obediently handed over his phone. Wen Yan quickly opened the hospital’s official WeChat account and checked her medical report.

Coincidentally, they had a full check-up just two days ago after their accident, and the report was very detailed:

“Oh wow—your body is so robust! So healthy, you don’t even seem like a prostitute. Do you have a sick mother? Is that why you ended up in this life?”

Qiao Chenye was puzzled by her constant babbling of nonsense. “Why do you ask that?”

“Look at your looks, such a clean body—in movies, people like you are forced into this world because of a sick mother, a gambler father, a school-going sister, and a broken past! Haven’t you heard of this?” Wen Yan rattled off as if explaining it clearly to him.

Qiao Chenye laughed at the girl before him. “No, that’s not true. Are you satisfied now, sister?”

“Well…”

Wen Yan’s voice dropped to a low whisper, her warm breath laced with alcohol nearly brushing his lips. “…419. Do you dare?”

“What’s 419? How can your little head hold so many strange things?”

“You don’t know your business well! 419 means…” Wen Yan leaned close to Qiao Chenye’s ear:

“four—one—nine?” She then covered her mouth, giggling at Chen Qiaoye’s eyes.

“four one nine?... night? One-night stand?”

Qiao Chenye’s pupils contracted sharply, almost reflexively trying to push her away.

“Do you know what you’re saying?”

“So?” Wen Yan raised her eyebrows, her fingertips daringly slipping under his bathrobe collar, feeling his chest pound wildly beneath her touch.

“…Having the heart but not the courage? Or… you can’t?” Her provocation, mixed with the scent of wine, became the strongest aphrodisiac.

Before Qiao Chenye could think, Wen Yan suddenly tilted her head back and captured his lips with precision.

It was a rough, inexperienced kiss tinged with the sweetness of fruit wine.

Qiao Chenye’s mind went blank, all rational strings snapping instantly.

By the time he reacted, he had taken the lead, one hand gripping the back of her head to deepen the kiss, the other instinctively encircling her slender waist.

Their lips and teeth tangled in both conquest and giving, until Wen Yan, gasping for air, lightly tapped his shoulder. He abruptly released her, their foreheads resting together, chests heaving violently, their heat mingled.

At the edge of his mask, his ears burned red.

This was his first kiss—everything just right. He never imagined his first time wouldn’t be under his control but led by her.

“Are you… serious?” he panted, his voice hoarse and ragged, but his hand around her waist didn’t loosen.

Wen Yan’s eyes glistened like obsidian coated with dew.

She licked her slightly swollen lips, smiling like a cat that had just succeeded in stealing a fish. “Of course… I never joke, sister. Don’t worry… the money, plenty of it. You’re lucky it’s my first kiss~”

Qiao Chenye stared at her for a few moments, then suddenly laughed softly, the vibration of his chest clearly transmitted through their pressed bodies.

He suddenly stood up, effortlessly lifting her horizontally in his arms, striding toward the elevator on the top floor of the hotel:

“…Then don’t regret it.”

Just as they reached the lounge door, they nearly collided with Assistant Liu and Duan Mengsheng, who were eavesdropping and keeping watch outside. Their eyes met, and the air instantly froze.

Assistant Liu and Duan Mengsheng reacted quickly, immediately looking up at the ceiling, pretending to be statues passing by, while their fingers wildly signaled “Success!” behind their backs—the heavens have opened their eyes! Young Master Qiao, this perennial iron tree, not only blossomed but seems ready to set the world ablaze!

Ignoring them, Qiao Chenye entered the elevator. Nearby people, seeing the golden mask, dared not even look up, burying their heads in the ground.

He held Wen Yan in his arms, leaning down to look into her drunken yet remarkably bright eyes.

He raised his hand and slowly removed the troublesome golden mask.

Wen Yan looked at the handsome, fiercely intense face behind the mask, her breath catching slightly.

“Xiao Han? Haha, my husband?” Wen Yan gushed, pinching Qiao Chenye’s cheek.

“I’m not Xiao Han, and definitely not your husband,” he said, frowning and warning her.

“Husband, you sing the best!” Wen Yan continued talking in her own dreamlike way.

He lowered his head, his nose nearly touching hers, his voice seductive: “…Look closely at who I am. Don’t deny it when you wake up tomorrow.”

Wen Yan smiled, hooking her arm around his neck and pulling him closer: “…You talk too much.”

…The elevator slowly descended, Qiao Chenye holding the dazed Wen Yan in his arms.

She nestled against him, breathing evenly, her cheeks still flushed with drunken warmth.

He looked down, his gaze lingering on her slightly swollen lips, his fingertips gently tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear.

On that usually stern face, the corners of his mouth involuntarily curved into a gentle smile, unnoticed even by himself.