Chapter 3: The Steam and the Scream
998 Words
Chapter 3: The Steam and the Scream
The air inside the bathroom shimmered with a light haze, steam curling slowly like whispers climbing the mirrored walls. The scent of rosewood soap lingered in the heat, wrapping everything in a strange, breathless warmth.
Ji Zhenkai squinted as the fog finally began to clear.
And that’s when he saw her.
She wasn’t just beautiful. No, that word didn’t dare to contain her.
She was sitting in the tub like a painting half-formed by moonlight and memory, skin glistening like the surface of still water, dark lashes wet and slightly clumped together. Her eyes met his — not wide with fear, but soft and shimmering, like they were made of starlight caught in a quiet tide.
She didn’t scream.
She didn’t flinch.
She just looked at him.
And for one whole second, Ji Zhenkai forgot how to breathe.
His jaw clenched. The muscles in his face moved, barely. Then a smirk — sharp, cold — crept across his mouth.
“So this is what they think would amuse me,” he muttered under his breath, voice low and heavy, like smoke curling beneath a closed door.
He took a step forward, then stopped.
“I’ll give you sixty seconds,” he said, each word carved from ice. “Get the f**k out of my room.”
The woman blinked once. Then again.
She didn’t move.
She tilted her head.
That was when her hand moved.
One small hand.
She reached out through the steam like a ghost slipping through the veil and — without warning — grabbed the hem of his trousers.
Ji Zhenkai froze.
His entire body tensed like a live wire was suddenly pressed against his spine.
Any other time, his skin would have rebelled, would have crawled with hives, would have felt like it was burning under acid.
He had spent years hiding it.
Avoiding women.
Avoiding even a brush of touch that wasn’t blood.
But right now? Nothing.
No nausea.
No cold sweat.
No sickening panic bubbling up in his throat.
Just...
Her.
Touching him.
His gaze dropped to where her hand was curled around his leg.
His chest rose and fell.
Why?
Why not now?
The question scraped at his mind.
And then — as if the world had slipped sideways — she stood up. Slowly. Water trailing from her like tears she never cried. Her arms slid up. Around his neck. And her face — that impossibly soft, utterly silent face — tilted up to his.
She didn’t ask permission.
She didn’t speak.
Her lips pressed against his in a kiss so unexpected it stopped time in its tracks.
Warm. Wet. Desperate.
And yet impossibly gentle.
When she pulled back, her voice was barely more than a breath.
“Help me.”
---
L
For a long moment, Ji Zhenkai just stood there.
Silent.
Still.
The only sound in the room was the water trickling down her bare skin and the distant hum of the air conditioning system behind the walls. His heart wasn’t beating the way it usually did. Not that slow, controlled rhythm he lived by.
It thudded.
Loud. Unsteady.
Almost angry.
No woman had ever touched him like this and not triggered that choking surge of rejection. Not even close. And yet... her fingers were still on him, light as silk, and his skin wasn’t screaming.
His body was... fine.
His mind?
A mess.
Ji Zhenkai’s eyes dropped to her trembling lips. The words she’d spoken were still ringing in his ears, looping over and over.
Help me.
He wanted to ask a thousand things. Who sent her? What kind of setup was this? Was this Yannick’s doing, or worse — Frank’s idea of a joke? But nothing came out. Just the sound of her breathing.
Her legs were shaking now.
Her entire body, barely holding itself upright.
He finally moved, catching her by the elbows before she could fall back into the water. She was weightless. Like a dream too fragile to carry.
“You’re burning,” he muttered under his breath.
Her skin was flushed. Damp with fever. Not just from the bath.
Her eyes fluttered. Lips parted. She tried to speak again, but the words stuck.
Ji Zhenkai swept her up into his arms before his brain could scream at him to stop.
He hated this. Hated the unpredictability. The loss of control. And yet...
She didn’t make him itch. She didn’t make his blood twist.
He carried her out of the bathroom and laid her gently on the wide bed, the silk sheets cool against her skin. She curled slightly, arms folding to her chest, as if the world had suddenly gone too cold.
He didn’t touch her again.
He stood back, jaw tight, fists clenched, trying to process what the hell had just happened.
And then his phone buzzed again.
Yannick.
He didn’t answer. Just stared at the screen until it went dark again.
Her voice broke through the silence — so soft it barely reached him.
“They tried to take me. I didn’t know where else to go.”
His spine stiffened.
Ji Zhenkai stepped closer again, crouching beside the bed, forcing her to meet his eyes.
“Who?”
But she didn’t answer. Her lashes dipped low. Her lips quivered. And the tears that had been hiding behind her starlight eyes began to fall — one drop at a time.
He wasn’t the type to comfort. He never had been.
But something in him twisted at the sight of those tears.
Something old.
And human.
She whispered again. This time even softer.
“Please... don’t send me away.”
Ji Zhenkai looked at her. Really looked. Her soaked hair was tangled like seaweed against her cheeks. Her breathing was uneven. Her fingers curled in the sheets like they were her only anchor in a drowning world.
He didn’t say yes.
Didn’t say no.
He just stood there.
And for once... didn’t walk away.
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- Writer
