His Ring, My Rules

Chapter 4: Fragrance and Fever Dreams

Chapter 4: Fragrance and Fever Dreams

The morning light spilled softly across the sheets, golden and silent. Lin Yueqin stirred. Her fingers clutched at the blanket tangled around her frame, and her eyes opened to the stillness of an unfamiliar bed. For a moment, there was only silence.

But then, the sound of water—steady, rushing, close.

She sat up slowly, the quilt pulled tight around her. Her mind felt hazy. For a few seconds, she could barely remember her own name. Then, it hit her. Last night. The heat. The kiss. The man.

Her stomach twisted.

A tremble ran through her limbs as she stood. Ignoring the soreness tugging at her muscles, she moved in a daze, collecting her clothes piece by piece. They were scattered like confessions across the carpeted floor. Without pausing, she slipped into them with hurried hands. She didn’t glance at the bathroom door. She didn’t want to see him. She just wanted out.

Quiet as a breath, she left.

Moments later, the sound of the door latch clicked again.

Ji Zhenkai stepped out, a towel slung low around his waist. Steam from the shower followed him, curling against the cold air of the room. His hair, still wet and tousled, dripped against his bare shoulders.

His frame was striking—broad at the shoulders, chest sculpted, skin damp. His gaze swept the room lazily. His expression shifted the second his eyes fell on the empty bed. The tangled sheets. The silence.

She was gone.

His brow furrowed.

He walked over to the nightstand and picked up his phone. Without hesitation, he dialed.

"Zhenkai?" The voice on the other end was lazy, amused. "Now that’s rare. What’s the occasion?"

Ji Zhenkai’s voice cut straight through. "There was a woman in my room last night."

A pause.

Then coughing. Loud, exaggerated. "You— what? You’re serious? Wait, did you two…?"

"Yes."

"But I thought you couldn’t stand women touching you. Remember when that flight attendant brushed your arm and you almost scrubbed your skin off?"

"I remember."

His voice was low, unreadable. "But it was different with her. She touched me and I didn’t feel sick. I didn’t panic."

On the other end, Denver Lancaster’s voice lost its teasing edge.

"You’re saying your body… didn’t reject her?"

Ji Zhenkai remained quiet for a long second.

"Not only did it not reject her," he said slowly, "I liked the way she smelled. I liked having her close."

He let the weight of that confession sit in the space between them.

He looked at the bed again. Sheets disheveled, imprint of her presence already fading.

"That’s never happened before," he added, almost to himself.

Denver's voice returned, this time quieter, serious. "That’s... a lot. Are you thinking it’s because of her?"

Ji Zhenkai rubbed his temple, his fingers brushing the edge of his damp hair. "I don’t know. But I slept. For six hours. No waking up. No dreams. Nothing."

That silence came again. This time, heavier.

"You haven’t slept through a night in years," Denver said. "You really think she did something to you?"

"I don’t know," Ji Zhenkai repeated. "But I called you because I need to know."

There was a breath, and then Denver replied, "Simple. Find her again. If your reaction stays the same… then maybe she’s the one."

Ji Zhenkai didn’t respond.

Denver added softly, "And if she is, Zhenkai… then she’s your cure."

Cure.

The word echoed in Ji Zhenkai’s mind like a stone dropped into still water.

---

The moment Lin Yueqin slipped away, silent as morning mist, Ji Zhenkai emerged from the steaming bathroom. A faint trail of condensation followed him out, clinging to his skin and damp towel like fog reluctant to part from the mountains.

His chest rose steadily, droplets gliding down the ridges of muscle that stretched across his torso. His hair was wet, strands falling untamed across his forehead. The subtle scent of the hotel soap still clung to him, mingling with the faint sweetness that still lingered in the air — a scent that hadn’t come from him.

His eyes swept the room. The sheets were a crumpled sea of white cotton. The warmth she left behind had not yet vanished, and yet... she had.

Ji Zhenkai stood still for a breath. Then another. Then the tension shifted in his shoulders, and he reached for his phone.

The screen lit up.

He pressed the call button.

"You're actually calling me?" came the voice on the other end, dripping with surprise and sleep. Denver Lancaster, smooth as ever.

Ji Zhenkai didn’t bother to indulge his tone. “There was a woman in my room last night.”

The silence on the line was so sharp it nearly cut through the air. Then came the coughing — a clumsy, breathless sputter.

“What? Wait. Wait. You mean a woman... stayed with you? That woman?”

Ji Zhenkai’s voice was quiet but resolute. “Yes.”

Another round of stunned coughing exploded through the phone, followed by a muttered, "What the hell…"

“Didn’t you freak out the last time someone brushed your sleeve? You scrubbed your hands raw.”

“Yes.”

Ji Zhenkai’s eyes lowered. His fingertips brushed the edge of the mattress, still faintly creased from where she had curled up.

“I didn’t feel it this time. No nausea. No panic.”

There was something strange flickering in his voice — disbelief, curiosity, even a trace of something like longing.

“She smelled… good,” he added, and his voice caught on the word like it surprised even him. “I couldn’t stop breathing her in. My body… didn’t push her away.”

It had never happened before.

There was a beat of silence from Denver’s end, then a sharp inhale. “Are you serious? You — the same Ji Zhenkai who almost passed out when that waitress touched your wrist — you were fine?”

Ji Zhenkai didn’t answer right away. His eyes had turned to the window now, drawn to the weak sunlight bleeding through the curtains.

“More than fine. I slept.”

“You… slept?”

“For six hours straight,” Ji Zhenkai said slowly. “No nightmares. No cold sweats. Nothing.”

Denver’s voice dropped low. “That’s not nothing. That’s a miracle. You haven’t done that in years.”

Ji Zhenkai exhaled, pressing two fingers to his temple. A dull throb settled there — not painful, just strange. Like his body didn’t know how to handle rest.

“I don’t understand it,” he murmured. “I thought maybe I imagined it. But it felt real. She was real.”

Denver was quiet for a long moment. Then, his voice came back steady and thoughtful.

“If you really think it’s her — then you have to see her again.”

Ji Zhenkai’s brows tightened. He said nothing.

“Zhenkai,” Denver continued, “this isn’t a joke. If she’s the reason, if she’s the one who calmed your mind, you need to find her again.”

Ji Zhenkai said nothing. His jaw clenched, eyes still fixed on the bed as if it might speak her name back to him.

“And if she is?” he muttered finally. “What then?”

Denver didn’t hesitate. “Then she’s your cure.”

There was a pause, and his voice softened, barely above a whisper.

“Maybe even your salvation.”