Awkward, was how Yüzhen felt when she learnt that the oh so famous ‘Sehun’ was someone she’d already been acquainted with. Melting into the ground was probably not enough to keep his piercing gaze off her. She regretted ever running into him. What she really wanted was to avoid him for the rest of the party. His staring did nothing but make her perplexed. What did he want from her? His secret she had already kept, and as much as she could, had erased the unfavorable event from her memory.

Pretending he didn’t bother her she went to somewhere he would be unable to find her. The ladies toilets seemed like the place she would need to hang out in until she could get away from this place.


She left the grandeur of the hall wondering just how many people were needed to clean the large chandelier on the very high roof. It was an impractical piece of ostentatious crystal.

Rounding a corner she almost ran into Jung Yerin. Shooting the woman an apologetic smile earned her a hard slap. Yüzhen did not have time to refute. Yerin’s scalding glare was enough to heighten the antagonism. “You can not have my husband.”

Suspecting she’d missed something, Yüzhen’s jaw slackened. “He was staring at me not the other way around!” She exclaimed, hurt that this immaculate woman would mistake her as a .

Yerin lashed out determined to smack sense. This time Yüzhen stopped her. “I’m trying to be understanding,” the latter stated tightening her grip around the slim wrist. “But I can’t seem to understand.”

Yerin snatched back her arm, massaging it and eyed her before sneering, “Don’t you dare show up in front of him! I won’t tolerate it.”

“I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

“Ha! You think I don’t know who you are? Do you think I’ll sit by and watch you frolic with my husband?”

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding here. If you’ll excuse me-” Yüzhen’s sentence was cut off by an underhanded method. She struggled to pry her hair free from Yerin’s claws. This only infuriated the woman. She inflicted as much pain as she could by lugging the strands of keratin in her fists making Yüzhen cry out.

A war had erupted with Yüzhen at the losing end. She’d tried being civil but it hadn’t worked. So she did the next best thing and clung to Yerin’s hair. The two women battled with as much strength as they possessed, staggering, stumbling but refusing to let go because that meant losing and neither of them were willing to compromise, even denying the yelps of torture they inflicted on one another. For Yüzhen it was an incredulous situation she found herself in. For Yerin it was a matter of pride.

The infernal conquest refused to end. But each soldier had an army behind them and for Yüzhen that was her brother, Zitao. How he had come to notice her absence in the middle of predominant persons was beyond her. He’d come nonetheless, he’d come to show his allegiance by freeing her. She held his arm as if he were a shield and winced. Her head ached for obvious reasons and she wanted nothing more than to dynamite the place to placate her fury.

“Go,” It was not a statement. Yüzhen read it as a command. She bit her lip wanting to argue but Zitao shot her a stern look, one that shouldn’t be questioned, leaving her no choice. She sent her foe a deadly look before marching away.

Yerin wanted to follow. Blanking Zitao she called after Yüzhen but he stopped her from her chase. Scowling at him for blocking her path, she tried to swerve him. He caught her arm, pushing her back to place.

“Do not touch me,” she demanded in a low growl.

“Why are all pretty girls demons?”

Yerin shrilled a gulp of laughter. “If you were me, you’d become a monster too.”

“Why must you be one?”

“Are you for real?” She inquired. “Are you going to pretend you don’t know why? Don’t kid me! Like everyone else here, you know my husband and I don’t have a good relationship. The last thing I need is an affair on my hands.”

Zitao pursed his lips knowingly. “He is notorious for going out at night.”

“Those aren’t affairs. He’s still my husband in the end,” she protested. “I can handle that but I won’t tolerate a situation where he would think to leave me for someone else! Mind your sister or I’ll take matters in my own hands.”

“So pretty, but ugly when she threatens,” he tutted shaking his head in dismay.

“What’s the point of having a pretty face when my husband doesn’t love me?” Yerin cackled bitterly. “Sehun had a girl he loved called ‘Park Kyungri.’ He still carries her photo. I had a look at it one day and he told me not to touch it with my dirty hands... Whatever happens, I won’t stand for an affair.”

“If he hurts you like that, why are you with him?” Zitao asked. In his opinion she could have done much, much better than tying herself to a loveless marriage. This however was not what she wanted to hear.

She started to bawl, “It’s my own rotten luck that my family’s business went kapoot. Everyone knows it was a business marriage and I was sold to him like a sacrifice. I’ve never once been happy.”

It was about here that Zitao understood her to be intoxicated. He grimaced as she gathered the sleeves of his blazer and shook him. “My mother-in-law keeps asking me if  I’m pregnant. How can I be when my husband doesn’t even touch me? She’s started bringing me for fertility treatments. It’s humiliating! I can’t even deny her.”

“You’re drunk! Snap out of it,” he urged.

That only made her yowl harder. He had to muffled in case passers by mistook him as a harasser. The whole situation was odd. Yerin bit his palm making him hiss. She stared at him through her damp lashes, forlorn. Being the sober one, he felt he was not entitled to be angry.

She sniveled and with a distorted gaze began again, “At night, I lie awake and wonder what I’m doing. I’ve been on anti-depressants since my first wedding anniversary. So go, take your sister and go.” She tried to swivel him. “Go back to China if you care about her. I swear if he starts with her I’ll go crazy, I might strangle her myself.”

Zitao held her panicked arms firmly not sure who to feel vexed towards, Yerin for ambushing his sister or Sehun for distressing his wife. “You’re too loyal, sticking by him,” he scolded.

“I’ve no choice.”

“If Sehun’s capable of sleeping out then aren’t you?”

“I’ve got no one to go to. Even if I did, I’m not that low.”

“You’ve ruined your make-up,” he observed.

Yerin pressed her palms to her cheeks and howled. Zitao wrinkled his nose and gingerly offered a handkerchief. “My advice would be to change scenery. Go abroad, you’re freakin' rich!”

“With who?” She squalored. “If I go, with who? If I take p-photos, for w-who? No one cares if I’m happy or sad.”

“Do it for yourself!”

“I’ve tried everything. I only feel numb. I never had a chance to be in a proper relationship,” she lamented and stomped her foot. Her heel snapped causing her to lose balance and trip. She might have smacked the marble with a thud if Zitao hadn’t caught her.

“This scenario keeps getting weirder,” he mumbled under his breath as he helped Yerin to her feet. She held onto him as if he were her last shred of sanity. He sighed and was about to pry himself free when she said, “Make me feel loved.”

He swore for a second he’d misheard. Then her fingers crept to his cheeks. He held his breath and told himself not to give in to inebriate women. Before he had a chance to follow up on that thought she smacked her lips on his. The faint taste of alcohol and her flowery perfume invaded his space.

He tried logical reasoning but she was holding him so desperately, with need and desire driving her. He’d never been kissed by an armature craving gratification. It was shattering to know she was awful at it. Somewhere in him, he found pity for this woman who lusted for any stranger. He found that he was responding, teaching her the art as he recalled his first kiss.

The maiden of his affection then had also been beautiful. He was shallow, he discovered. He’d only kissed her because she’d been encha