Darling Diary

Chapter 1:Intro To Romance

There was a breath, warm and sultry, brushing against her cheek like the whisper of summer wind through satin curtains. The air was thick, perfumed with something too floral, too musky, like incense that had overstayed its welcome in a small yoga studio. Her skin tingled beneath its warmth, an odd blend of comfort and confusion. Somewhere in that haze, a voice stirred the air, smooth and distant, like a lullaby half-remembered in a dream, laced with something that made her toes curl involuntarily.

The world felt submerged, thick as honey. Every movement, every thought, came slow and syrupy. She blinked. Once. Twice. The ceiling above her was a blur of gold and shadow, flickering light turning it into a moving tapestry.

Candles.

So many candles, as if a séance had gone wildly over budget. Their flames bobbed and danced like mischievous sprites in the gloom, painting the walls with rippling amber. The scent of melting wax and stale rose petals clung to the atmosphere, unwanted and impossible to ignore.

Meng blinked again, trying to push away the fog in her skull. She was lying on something far too firm to be her mattress. The sheets beneath her were rough, scratchy linen that clung to her skin like cling wrap. Her limbs felt waterlogged, her mouth dry. Had she been drugged? Knocked out? Did she blackout?

And then she felt it.

A hand. Rough and warm. It ghosted over her bare shoulder like a breeze made of sandpaper. She jolted. Not a small twitch, no. Her entire body spasmed like a fish dropped on hot pavement. Her breath hitched sharply in her throat. Her skin prickled where the hand had touched her.

That was a man’s hand. A man who did manual labor. Possibly with bricks. Or goats. Or both.

She giggled, the sound slipping out despite the alarm bells ringing in her head. “Oh no,” she muttered, eyes still only half-open, “Did I go full cougar at some dingy bar again?”

But she didn’t remember drinking. Or bars. Or even her own name.

Her thoughts scrambled for logic, but before she could piece anything together, she felt her clothes- well, what little was left of them, sliding away.

Fingers. Skilled, but hesitant. Undoing knots.

“Hey…?” Her voice came out sluggish, laced with groggy confusion as she tilted her head to meet the intruder.

Their eyes met.

And oh, what a face. Gorgeous, strong jaw, windblown hair, and the expression of a man caught doing something profoundly stupid. His hands froze mid-misdeed.

Meng blinked slowly.

“Oh hey~!” she sang, voice suddenly flirty. Her inner diva had clocked in for duty. “You’re pretty. Did I summon you from a dating app or a fever dream?”

The man looked terrified. Utterly, spectacularly terrified. His eyes darted from her face to her body, then back again like he was mentally rewriting his will.

She propped herself up on one elbow and stared at his chest. A sculpted marvel. A living statue, if statues could sweat nervously. She let out a low whistle and traced a finger lazily down the firm line of his pecs.

“Damn, did I win some Adonis jackpot lottery? You come with a name or just vibes?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “Are… are you alright?”

His voice was low, hoarse. Gentle, like he thought she might explode if he spoke too loudly. Which was fair. She was halfway to madness herself.

She giggled again, this time with more bite. “Are we about to do it?” she asked plainly, throwing her arms around his neck. “Because if we are, I’d at least like to know your star sign. And if we’re not… why were you taking my clothes off, Mr. Manners?”

His jaw dropped. He was flailing, internally. It was visible.

“Princess,” he breathed, voice trembling, “forgive me. I shouldn’t… I didn’t mean--”

“Princess?” she echoed, pausing. “Wait. Is that your kink or mine?”

And just like that, she yanked him closer with a wicked grin and sent them both tumbling into a heap of tangled limbs and scandalous silk. Her robes bunched up, revealing far more thigh than the average court lady would consider proper.

He landed atop her with the grace of a falling bookshelf. Their faces were inches apart. Close enough to feel each other's breath. His smelled like cinnamon and absolute panic.

“You’re more of a virgin than I am, huh?” she teased, grinning.

“Please,” he murmured, unable to look her in the eye, “I have no such intentions.”

Her smile faltered. “Oh. I get it. I’m not hot enough for you, is that it?” Her voice turned sharp, theatrical. “You undress me while I’m unconscious and now you’re playing the victim?”

His eyes bulged. “No! I swear--!”

“What is this, some royal roleplay? Are you a lost cosplayer?” she shot back.

“I beg of you…” he said, voice cracking like a dropped porcelain dish. “I’ll do anything.”

“Great,” she snapped. “Go fetch me a therapist, a cheeseburger, and a lawyer in that order.”

And just when the madness was peaking..

BANG!

The door burst open with the subtlety of an explosion in a library. Smoke and cold air rolled in as armed guards in flowing robes and armor stormed in like SWAT from a wuxia novel. Cloaks billowed. Swords gleamed. One guy was _literally_ holding a halberd.

Meng screamed in fright, “What the HELL?!”

She scrambled upright, yanking fabric over herself with frantic hands, silks and lace flapping like sails in a storm. “WHERE IS THIS? WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?”

“Your Highness!!”

“MY WHAT?!”

The man who was still shirtless and horrified looked between her and the soldiers, then frantically grabbed a robe. “Princess, my robe!”

“TOO LATE FOR ROBES, BUDDY!” she shrieked, throwing a pillow at his face. “This looks like a cult, feels like a scandal, and I will sue someone!”

The guards froze mid-charge, unsure whether to bow or flee.

And through it all, Meng sat there in a hurricane of confusion, silk, candle smoke, and her own unraveling sanity, hair wild, eyes blazing.

She gritted her teeth and hissed between them, “My parents are going to KILL me.”