Chapter 33

At Government Office in Beijing

“Report.”

“Come in.”

A high-ranking military officer stepped inside, saluted solemnly, and then said, “Commander, you should take a look at this application…”

Yan Weiguo was reviewing documents. Without looking up, he said, “Ah, Xiao Wang, have a seat.”

“I wouldn’t dare disturb you, Commander. This is Captain Yan’s application.” The officer added another line for emphasis.

“Hmm.” Yan Weiguo took off his glasses, reached for the document, and after a quick glance, placed it to the side. “Alright, I understand. You may go. If there’s anything else, I’ll call for you.”

Approving the application wasn’t difficult, but given that it involved the commander’s own son, it was best to have it reviewed personally. After saluting once more, the officer left the office.

Yan Weiguo continued working for a while before finally picking up the application, his expression turning serious as he read through it. When he finished, he pulled open the right-hand drawer and placed the document inside.

…

“Are you having trouble sleeping, Auntie?”

During dinner, Wen Xin noticed that He Wenyan seemed a little out of sorts and hadn’t eaten much. She had made pan-seared fish, paired with freshly steamed rice, and a light seafood broth with tiny shrimp and leafy greens. The clear soup was fresh and balanced, perfect for cutting through grease. Yet, He Wenyan barely touched her food.

“Mm, the hospital has been busy these past few days. I haven’t had much rest.” He Wenyan responded absentmindedly. The truth was, work had been hectic, and at home, Yan Weiguo hadn’t been around for several days. She wasn’t his first wife, and there was no deep emotional foundation between them. Given his position, it was normal for him to be away for extended periods.

What exhausted He Wenyan the most was how, every time she carefully called him, she never dared ask what he was busy with—only when he’d be home. And his answer was always the same: “Eat without me. Don’t wait up.”

Sometimes, he’d add a brief “You’ve worked hard.” before hanging up.

Even those simple words were enough to bring tears to her eyes.

Now, watching Wen Xin and Yan Weiguo’s son growing closer, she felt an odd mix of emotions. She knew better than anyone what Yan Zeyang had been like at home—practically treated like a young master, never once bringing food to the table. And now? He was even handing Wen Xin a spoon for her soup.

Yan Zeyang was attentive to Wen Xin in a way that was impossible to miss. His feelings for her were written all over his actions. In contrast, Yan Weiguo would never treat her with such tenderness. He Wenyan couldn’t help feeling disappointed. She had accepted this outcome when she married him, believing that love could be cultivated over time. But now, she realized that no matter how much effort she put in, nothing could overcome their constant separation.

“Auntie He, I have some essential oil that helps with sleep. I’ll bring some over later—it works really well.” Wen Xin offered. It was just lavender oil, meant to calm emotions and promote restful sleep. But the version she had was exceptionally pure, extracted through a specialized system, making it particularly effective.

As Yan Zeyang picked up some food with his chopsticks, he cast a glance at Wen Xin. His relationship with He Wenyan was neither close nor hostile. He knew exactly how she had married his father, and that his father had no tolerance for manipulative behavior. Her current demeanor was merely the result of having no better options.

Catching his subtle glance, Wen Xin shrank her neck and quickly focused on her meal. A moment later, as if casually, Yan Zeyang placed a piece of tender scallop omelet into her bowl.

He Wenyan, lost in thought, didn’t notice.

Wen Xin happily accepted the food, pursing her lips into a small smile as she ate it. They had already kissed—what was a little food-sharing compared to that? Once you kissed someone, all reservations about sharing vanished.

Yan Zeyang was someone who either liked or disliked a person with absolute clarity. If he disliked someone, his aversion was unmistakable. But if he liked them, he would go all in. Throughout the meal, his eyes repeatedly landed on Wen Xin, constantly watching her. If she wanted more soup, he scooped it for her before she even asked.

Wen Xin beamed, nodding inwardly. In her past world, where else could she find a man this attractive, disciplined, and caring?

After dinner, Wen Xin poured some lavender oil and brought it to He Wenyan. Exhausted from the past few days, He Wenyan decided to give it a try. She only meant to rest her eyes for a moment, but before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep.

Wen Xin moved quietly to avoid waking her, then took a bath, carefully applying body lotion afterward. She even gave her hair a nourishing treatment before letting it air-dry halfway. By the time she got into bed, it was already past nine.

Yet, she couldn’t fall asleep.

Now it was her turn to suffer from insomnia. And the reason? The temptation was right in front of her, but she couldn’t have it. How frustrating!

Suddenly, she sat up, threw on a light robe, and tiptoed upstairs.

The door to the second-floor bedroom wasn’t fully closed. A soft glow seeped through the gap. Wen Xin took off her robe, tossing it onto the sofa, then grabbed a clean white dress shirt that Yan Zeyang had left there and slipped it on.

The hemline of the oversized shirt barely covered her upper thighs, leaving her smooth, fair legs exposed. With each subtle movement, she exuded an irresistible allure.

She swept her long hair back, then quietly pushed the door open.

Inside, Yan Zeyang was leaning against the bed, reading a military book. His hair was still damp, as if he had just taken a shower. He wore a black tank top, revealing his well-defined shoulders and chest. His muscles weren’t the artificially bulked-up kind from modern gym workouts—they weren’t for show. His strength came from rigorous training, making his muscles compact and explosive.

Yan Zeyang’s physique was the kind that didn’t stand out at first glance, but one look at him in action and you’d know—he was the kind of man whose punches could incapacitate someone. His body was streamlined, powerful, and concealed immense strength beneath the surface. Only when he exerted force would his muscles become visibly defined.

Right now, however, he was in a relaxed state.

That is, until Wen Xin stepped in.

His head snapped up in shock, his gaze locking onto her figure. Seeing her clad in his shirt, his grip on the heavy book nearly slipped.

His muscles tensed instantly—shoulders, arms, even his neck, where faint veins became visible.

Wen Xin smiled slyly.

It was going to be an interesting night.

Yan Zeyang felt a panic unlike anything he had ever experienced in his life.

“What are you doing up here so late? Go back to your room!” He shot up from the edge of his bed as if he had been set on fire.

He strode over, intent on blocking Wen Xin by the desk and sending her back to her room.

Under the dim glow of the desk lamp, Wen Xin’s fair little face showed a trace of grievance. She pouted, gazing at Yan Zeyang, who was looking at her nervously, as if eager to drive her away. But just a while ago, in her room, he had been the complete opposite—unable to let go of her.

Her cheeks were soft and rosy. She looked at him, watching as his hands held her under her arms, and then…

In the end, he had restrained himself and buttoned up her clothes again.

Even after all that, he still managed to hold back. Was he even human?

The more he spoke, the more Wen Xin refused to leave. She ran her fingers over the surface of his desk—spotless, without a trace of dust.

There was nothing much to see in Yan Zeyang’s room. It was square, neat, and meticulously organized. Even his military-green bedsheet was flawlessly smooth, without a single wrinkle, as if no one had ever slept in it.

No wonder. No wonder seducing him was so difficult. He was a man of extreme self-discipline—the kind who believed that controlling himself meant he could control everything.

Heh.

Wen Xin walked over and sat down on his bed.

Yan Zeyang’s face darkened. He stepped forward, lowered his head, and spoke sternly, “…We can’t make any more mistakes. This is a matter of principle. It’s late, and you shouldn’t be here. Go back. After we get married—”

Before he could finish, Wen Xin lowered her head and started unbuttoning her clothes.

Startled, Yan Zeyang immediately reached out to stop her. “No! This is outrageous! Do you still have any sense of propriety as a young woman? Button up!” He was on the verge of shouting at her.

“Then what am I supposed to do? I miss you. I can’t sleep. I just want to hold you, and I want you to hold me. Hug me, please? I feel empty, lonely, and cold…” Wen Xin flung herself into his arms, acting spoiled.

“What? Cold?” Yan Zeyang instantly held her tighter. “Who told you to wear so little? Go back and put on more clothes!”

Wen Xin: “…”
Was he really this dense?

“Then warm me up. If I get warm, I’ll go back.” Wen Xin stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her face against his firm, muscular chest, shamelessly making her request.

“Warm…” Yan Zeyang grasped her shoulders, as if trying to negotiate. Holding her close, he tried to reason with her. “Go back. Be good. In a few days, I—”

Before he could finish, Wen Xin suddenly broke free from his grip.

His oversized shirt on her had already been slipping off. As she moved, the collar tilted further to the side, revealing one delicate shoulder. Under the soft light, she looked like an enchanting fairy—pure yet seductive, a mesmerizing white rabbit spirit with fair skin and red lips.

At this time, who had ever seen such breathtaking beauty?

No matter how disciplined Yan Zeyang was in the military, he had never encountered anything like this—a woman, wearing his shirt, standing in front of him with a look that was both innocent and alluring, her slightly parted lips a tempting shade of red.

The top two buttons had long since come undone. The collar slowly slid downward, revealing both shoulders and her collarbones. It was just like wearing a deep V-neck gown in the modern world—stopping just at the chest.

“Wen Xin!” Yan Zeyang’s voice turned dangerously stern. “I’m warning you, you’re not allowed to—”

Before he could finish, his worst nightmare repeated itself.

The front button came undone with a single flick.

Yan Zeyang froze, unable to say another word.

…

That afternoon, Wen Xin had already realized just how much he liked her—so much that he couldn’t bear to part with her, so much that he couldn’t resist her.

So, she decided to use the same trick again. She refused to believe she couldn’t break through his defenses.

For a man with such strong self-restraint, if she wanted to engage in a purely emotional, spiritual romance, it would take at least two to three years.

Two to three years? Wen Xin was certain she didn’t have that kind of patience.

This kind of seduction—like the sultry poses on the covers of modern fashion magazines—was something no man of this era could possibly withstand.

Behind the closed bedroom door…

Silence. No one knew what was happening inside.

Only the occasional sound slipped through…

Half an hour later, Wen Xin’s shirt was a mess as Yan Zeyang carried her in his arms. He kissed her lips as he walked, completely unfazed by her weight.

His strong arms held her securely, and he steadily descended the stairs, carrying her all the way back to her room. After placing her on the bed, he even stole a few more kisses.

Wen Xin, furious, flipped over on the bed. When he had put her down earlier, she had kicked him several times in protest, making her frustration clear.

Yet, in the end, he had still managed to restrain himself.

Truly, he was a man of steel-willed determination.

For the first time, Wen Xin felt both admiration and fear.

Just how much self-control did this man have?

She couldn’t help but wonder—if he had lived during the wartime resistance era, he’d probably be the kind of hero in war films who would endure any torture without ever betraying his comrades.

A man deserving of the highest respect.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured in a low, hoarse voice.

He stood by her bedside for a long time before quietly leaving and gently closing the door behind him.

Wen Xin let out a breath.

Forget it.

She kicked the blanket to the foot of the bed and went to sleep.