“The President's Surrogacy”.

2

The presidential suite boasted a spacious bathroom, its expansive mirror reflecting a pristine and curvaceous body, alabaster-white and unblemished, like that of a newborn. Xia Zixin stood before her own naked reflection, her pale and anxious face betraying her unease. Her slender fingers gently traced the birthmark on her left cheek as she whispered inwardly, reminding herself, This is what sets me apart from my sister.

A sudden, resounding bang startled Xia Zixin from her reverie—the sound of the outer door being flung open. Drawing a deep breath, she hastily donned a robe, her trembling hands betraying her growing apprehension as she perched nervously on the edge of the toilet, gnawing at her fingers.

"Yiwei, be careful," a gentle voice called. Ya Qing, her delicate figure supporting the drunken Luo Yiwei, guided him carefully into the room, her tone laced with tender concern. Her husband, thoroughly intoxicated from the evening's revelry, staggered clumsily. Ya Qing's eyes swept across the romantic suite, their newlywed sanctuary for the night. A wave of happiness surged within her as she envisioned their upcoming honeymoon in Provence.

Luo Yiwei swayed unsteadily, but his strong arm reached out to encircle Ya Qing’s slender waist. With his other hand, he traced her delicate features with his long fingers. "Qing, how does it feel to be my bride?" he asked, his voice tinged with affection.

"Feel? I’ve already given my heart to you; what else is there to feel?" Ya Qing replied with a radiant smile, her hands clasping his neck as she gazed at him with adoration.

A dreamy expression lingered in Yiwei’s eyes, tempered by an irresistible warmth. His charming smile deepened as he enveloped Ya Qing in an intimate embrace. "I, Luo Yiwei, promise to make my beautiful wife the happiest woman alive." Yet his inebriation overcame him, and he collapsed onto the soft bed after the embrace.

Ya Qing approached the bedside table and picked up a glass of water she had prepared earlier. Sitting by Yiwei’s side, she gently offered it to him. "Yiwei, drink some water."

Yiwei downed the water in one swift gulp, tossing the glass aside where it landed softly on the carpet. Then, with a quick movement, he flipped over, pinning Ya Qing beneath him. "Let’s enjoy our wedding night," he murmured, his voice heavy with desire. Though he had experienced many women, Ya Qing had always been a mystery, maintaining an elusive distance. Tonight, she was finally his, and he could scarcely contain his anticipation.

"Wait, you’re in such a hurry," Ya Qing teased with a playful smile. She touched his lips with her delicate fingers, then gently pushed him away and stood. As she caressed his face, she could feel the heat radiating from him—the telltale sign that the drug's effects were beginning.

With a seductive laugh, she sauntered toward the wall and flicked a switch, plunging the room into darkness.

"You’re shy, aren’t you?" Yiwei chuckled softly. He reached out to hold her, but his arms closed on empty air. Ya Qing nimbly dodged him and retreated toward the bathroom. "Husband, let me take off my makeup first," she cooed before slipping inside and locking the door.

"Don’t keep me waiting too long," Yiwei said warmly, leaning against the bathroom wall.

Inside the bathroom, Xia Zixin sat frozen on the toilet, her arms hugging her knees tightly. She had overheard every word of their exchange, and turmoil churned within her. Should she go through with her sister’s plan? Could she muster the courage to take such a step and lay with her brother-in-law?

Just as these thoughts tormented her, the bathroom door opened and shut quickly. Her sister entered, the air between them thick with tension.

The silence was palpable. Xia Zixin’s heart raced uncontrollably as she stood to face Ya Qing, whose eyes silently urged her forward. Step by trembling step, Zixin approached the door, her pale face etched with reluctance. As she gripped the handle, she turned back, seeking reassurance in Ya Qing’s gaze. Her sister nodded resolutely.

The door opened and shut behind her. Leaning against it, Zixin trembled violently, her legs so weak she feared they would fail her. In the suffocating darkness, she fumbled to find her bearings.

Suddenly, a strong arm encircled her waist, pulling her unguardedly into Luo Yiwei’s warm embrace. Her heart raced, and a strange emotion overtook her—one she couldn’t name. His chest was hot, searing her like a flame. As she instinctively moved to push him away, his grip tightened, and his voice, both gentle and commanding, whispered near her ear, "Tonight, you’re mine."

Hearing his name reverberate in her mind, she trembled, her body reacting instinctively to the man who held her.

"What’s wrong, my love?" Yiwei asked softly, sensing her shiver. He held her closer, concern evident in his tone.

Fear rendered Zixin mute, her legs trembling beneath her as she grappled with the decision before her. The stakes of exposure loomed large—not just for her, but for Ya Qing and their entire family. As Yiwei moved to turn on the lights, she panicked, her hands darting to stop him. She kissed him impulsively, her lips meeting his in desperation.

The unexpected kiss ignited a wildfire within Yiwei. He deepened the kiss, drawing her closer with an intensity she couldn’t resist. The tenderness of his touch and the rawness of his passion overwhelmed her, leaving her lost in the storm he created.

When he laid her onto the bed, her instincts screamed for her to flee, but the moment of escape slipped away. His whispered confession of love in her ear struck her like a bittersweet blow.

She was trapped. As the night unfolded, the weight of her choice pressed heavily on her soul.

Hours later, as Luo Yiwei slept soundly, his arm draped over her, Xia Zixin quietly slipped away, tears tracing silent paths down her face. Pain coursed through her body, yet she endured it, carefully dressing before slipping out of the room. At the bathroom door, Ya Qing placed a grateful hand on Zixin’s shoulder, her expression a mix of gratitude and relief.

Donning her simple clothes, Zixin left the suite, her pale face devoid of emotion. Behind her, Ya Qing nestled into Yiwei’s side, her lips brushing his forehead before she too drifted to sleep.

Beneath the white duvet, however, a dark red stain marked the irreversible betrayal of that night.