The car interior smells of Shangjue's cologne—expensive, woody, and infinitely comforting. After the chaos at Temple Street, having him this close should make me feel safe, but seeing the way that woman touched his arm earlier has left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Shangjue reaches into his pocket and pulls out a delicate diamond necklace, placing it in my palm. "For you," he says simply.

The gesture is so typically him—expensive, beautiful, and slightly clumsy in its directness. My anger melts a little as I examine the necklace, turning it over in my fingers. It's perfect, exactly my taste.

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out the words burning on my tongue. "I以为哥哥顾着哄女人，忘记有我这个弟弟了。"

Shangjue actually laughs—the low, rare sound that always sends shivers down my spine. He pulls me closer, his large hand warm against my back, and before I realize what's happening, he's pressing his lips gently to mine.

"How could I ever forget you?" he murmurs against my mouth.

My breath catches. In public, we're brothers—distant, formal, with only occasional glimpses of our true connection. But here, in the privacy of the car, he's all mine.

I meet his gaze, my pulse racing as I reach up to trace his lower lip with my thumb. The taste of him still lingers on my lips, and I suddenly want more—much more. The car feels too small, too confining, yet perfectly intimate all at once.

"哥哥，" I whisper, my voice dropping lower as I lean in closer, "你怎么随便亲我啊。"

The words are teasing, but there's heat behind them. I can see the moment his expression shifts—his eyes darkening, his body tensing slightly against mine. The air between us crackles with tension, thick with unspoken promises and dangerous desire.

This is dangerous territory, even here. The driver could look back at any moment. But I don't care. I want him to know exactly how he affects me—how no other touch, no other attention, could ever compare to his.