See Claire Again

After a delightful session of physical exertion,

Zhou Yi got up and began dressing.

Hettie looked at him with confusion. "Aren't you staying tonight, Zhou? It's already so late."

Zhou Yi turned back with a smile. "I'm sorry, but my classmates and professors are waiting for me. I have to go back—there are rules to follow."

His words carried a hint of callousness, as if he were wiping his hands clean after a feast.

But by now, Hettie was utterly captivated by Zhou Yi—

both in heart and body.

So she didn’t dwell on it, merely expressing regret. "I was hoping you’d wake me tomorrow with your beautiful piano playing. What a shame."

Zhou Yi crouched down, kissed her forehead, and said tenderly, "There will be other chances."

Hettie lowered her eyes, dejected. "But you’re leaving so soon. We’re thousands of miles apart. We might never see each other again."

Zhou Yi gazed into her beautiful eyes with feigned tenderness, gently stroking her cheek. "Hettie, music and the heart know no distance. As long as we remember each other, what does it matter if we’re far apart?"

"You’re right, Zhou. My heart will always be with you. I’ll forever be your most devoted admirer and listener."

Hettie wholeheartedly agreed with his words. She loved Zhou Yi, loved those hands favored by God.

She embraced him one last time, giving him a deep kiss before watching him leave.

After walking a long distance from Hettie’s place, Zhou Yi finally hailed a cab. By the time he arrived at Claire’s home, it was nearly 3 a.m.

Before going to Claire, he stopped at a nearby hotel to freshen up.

At this hour, the florists were closed, so Zhou Yi bought a bouquet from the system shop.

Dressed impeccably, he appeared at Claire’s doorstep with refined elegance.

Noticing the light still on upstairs, he called her.

The woman answered with a lazy tone. "I thought you weren’t coming tonight, Mr. Pianist."

Zhou Yi caught the teasing in her voice and chuckled. "Someone sounds impatient?"

Claire rose from her bed, barefoot on the plush white rug, moving like a regal Persian cat.

She went to the window, drew back the curtains, and leaned against the sill, looking down at Zhou Yi below.

"Look up, Mr. Zhou Yi. I’m right above you."

She whistled playfully and waved her phone at him.

Zhou Yi lifted his gaze.

Her hair danced in the wind as she stood there in a red dress, flashing him a bewitching smile.

The sight was breathtaking—even Zhou Yi was stunned by her beauty.

He raised the bouquet in his hand, and a glimmer of amusement flickered in Claire’s eyes.

At least he remembered flowers. Points for effort.

Into the phone, Zhou Yi said,

"May I come in, beautiful Miss Claire?"

Claire twirled a lock of hair around her finger—a little habit when she was pleased.

"Since you brought me flowers, I’ll forgive your tardiness and carelessness."

She grabbed a set of keys from the table and tossed them down.

Zhou Yi picked them up, tried two, and unlocked the door.

When he stepped inside, Claire stood on the staircase, smiling—clearly not upset.

She descended step by step, placed a hand on his shoulder, and murmured,

"What kept you so busy, my dear pianist? I almost thought you’d stood me up. I was heartbroken."

"Of course I’d come. I keep my promises. I got held up at Albedo’s, so I’m late. My apologies."

As he spoke, he handed her the flowers. "These are for you."

"Thank you." Claire took them and walked to the vase in the living room, arranging the blooms.

Her back to him, she asked, "Why did you lie to me before? You’re plenty charming as you are. A pianist persona is far more intriguing than some naive college boy, don’t you think?"

"But if I’d sat in that bar as a pianist, would you have struck up a conversation, challenged me to drinks, and taken me home like you did that night?"

Claire paused, then laughed softly. "Probably not. I used to think pianists were boring, stuffy men in suits—hardly worth the effort. But you’re so handsome, who knows?"

Turning around, she approached Zhou Yi, her eyes raking over him as if undressing him with her gaze.

Claire smirked. "But this version of you is even hotter."

Zhou Yi raised a brow. "Which version is that?"

She rose on her toes, kissed his earlobe, and whispered seductively, "A wolf in a tailored suit."

"Respected by day as the elegant pianist, playing the innocent boy by night to steal hearts. I must say, you stole mine. I love every side of you."

She tilted her head, arms looping around his waist. "But I think I love the real you most—the wicked, refined scoundrel."

Zhou Yi chuckled, feigning innocence. "Am I really that bad?"

Claire pouted, tracing circles on his chest with her finger, her eyes glistening as she bit her lip. "You stole my heart. Isn’t that bad enough?"

With a low laugh, Zhou Yi gripped her chin, narrowing his eyes. "Then we’re a pair—one bad man, one bad woman. No complaints, little rose."

Claire’s eyes crinkled as she kissed his cheek.

In a coquettish tone, she murmured, "Carry me upstairs, won’t you? My legs are weak just seeing you. I can’t walk."

She melted against him, her curves pressing provocatively into Zhou Yi.

"Fine. I’ll carry you."

Effortlessly, he scooped her up in his arms.

Before they even reached the stairs, Claire was already kissing him, her soft lips intoxicating, her scent enveloping him. Her breathy moans sent heat coursing through him.

Zhou Yi’s gaze darkened. "That eager?"

Claire nuzzled his neck like a kitten. "You in that suit is too tempting. Makes me want to call you Daddy."

He looked down at her. "Patience. You’ll be saying it plenty later."

Upstairs, Zhou Yi carried her into the bedroom.

He tossed her onto the bed, where she lay with disheveled hair, gazing at him with raw desire.

Standing at the bedside, Zhou Yi slowly loosened his tie and shrugged off his jacket...

Before long, the room echoed with breathless cries of "Daddy."

...