That night, Qiao Yan and her nemesis Zhou Xiyun somehow ended up sharing a bed. Later, according to Qiao Yan’s recollection, though both were too drunk to tell right from left, they definitely didn’t do anything they shouldn’t have—except… a dizzy, impulsive kiss. When Zhou Xiyun woke up, her expression was dark enough to strangle Qiao Yan on the spot. Heart racing, Qiao Yan shrank back against the headboard, refusing to back down despite the situation. “We’re clean. Don’t expect me to take responsibility.” Zhou Xiyun’s lips thinned, glaring as she bit out, each word deliberate: “Don’t. Get. Any. Ideas.” **One speaks against her heart. The other refuses to admit it.** (*A sweet, absurd rivals-to-lovers romp—just for fun and stress relief.*)