Empire of Desire: An Alpha’s Financial Reign - Chapter 30

After hastily returning to Beijing from Gangcheng, Han Zaijing felt a strange warmth rising through her body. Something wasn’t quite right. She sat on the edge of her bed, slightly dazed, staring at the calendar on the wall. Then it hit hers — the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac he had taken weeks ago.

At the time, it had been necessary to complete a ruse. She hadn’t expected its impact to last so long, nor return so suddenly.

A message from Jiang Nuan popped up on her screen. She told her she had just returned from Europe, having passed a major audition with a dance company. As the lead performer, she was expected to join an extensive tour. She had landed in Paris the day before and was now struggling with jet lag.

Zaijing sighed and tossed the phone onto the bed. Her body ached with an unfamiliar heat, and the patch meant to suppress her condition felt increasingly ineffective. Frustrated, she ripped it off and collapsed onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling, unbuttoning the top of her pajama shirt to let in some air. But the sensation didn’t fade. Instead, it deepened, a gentle tide rising into a wave of discomfort.

She clenched her phone again, her fingers trembling. e didn’t mean to call Jiang Nuan, not consciously — but as she lay there, disoriented and flushed, her name seemed to dial itself.

In her apartment, Jiang Nuan was curled up in bed, trying to fight off the time difference. Her phone buzzed beside her. She groaned softly and reached for it, swiping to answer without looking at the caller ID.
“Hello?” Her voice was soft, tinged with sleep.

At the other end, Zaijing didn’t respond in words. What came through the speaker was a soft, uneven breath — quiet at first, then more labored. Jiang Nuan sat up instantly, blinking at the name on her screen. Her face flushed as she realized what was happening. She knew her condition; she’d seen it once before, when she was caught unaware by the effects of the same aphrodisiac.

Her heart raced.
“Is this man crazy?” she muttered under her breath, but her fingers didn’t move to end the call.

A long silence followed, broken only by the occasional rustle of sheets and the sharp edge of a stifled sigh. Jiang Nuan hesitated, her thumb hovering over the video icon. She knew it was a breach of her trust, but a part of her — curious, protective, maybe even drawn by something deeper — wanted to see how bad it was.

“Zaijing,” she called softly, “turn on the camera.”

On the other end, her mind clouded with heat and confusion, she complied. The screen flickered. The image was shaky, angled strangely, but Jiang Nuan could see enough. Her face was flushed, the corner of her eyes red, beads of sweat clinging to her temples. Her breathing was uneven, eyes dazed.

She swallowed hard, a mix of worry and something else stirring inside her.
That was enough to push her to act.

Without hesitation, she threw on her coat, grabbed her purse, and hailed a taxi. During the ride, her mind raced with conflicting thoughts — concern for her, guilt for peeking into her vulnerability, and something deeper, more personal. The driver barely had time to stop before she jumped out and ran into the apartment building.

As she opened the door, a familiar scent of pinewood greeted her — warm, musky, and unmistakably her. Her steps slowed. Her knees felt weak.

She found her half-curled on the bed, still lost in a daze. Her pajamas clung loosely to her body, barely buttoned, her skin flushed and warm to the touch.

Without thinking, she knelt beside the bed and touched her face. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, they locked onto hers.

“Jiang Nuan…” she murmured.

“I’m here,” she whispered.

Their bodies moved with instinct more than intention. A kiss met halfway, soft at first, then deepened by something raw and unspoken. Her arms found her waist, lifting her as though she weighed nothing, carrying her to the bed where everything else faded — the city noise outside, the lingering heat of the drug, the ache of distance between them.

The night that followed was a blur of whispered names, warm hands, and soft light. Their intimacy was not one of wild abandon, but of quiet urgency, a wordless confession of everything left unsaid. It was need, yes — but also comfort. Trust. Release.

By the time dawn painted the sky in shades of pale blue, both were lost in an exhausted sleep.

When Han Zaijing awoke hours later, the sunlight slipping between the curtains, her head felt heavy, and her body sore. Memories of the previous night danced at the edges of her mind like fragments of a dream.

She sat up slowly, turning to Jiang Nuan who still slept beside her, hair cascading over her shoulder.

She hesitated, then gently nudged her awake. “Hey… Did I call you last night?”

Jiang Nuan blinked, then stretched lazily like a cat. “Hmm?”

“I mean… Was it a video call?” she asked, looking away, clearly embarrassed.

She smiled faintly, lips twitching with mischief. “No, it was audio only. You were half-asleep. I couldn’t really hear what you were saying.”

Relief washed over her face. “Ah… good.”

Jiang Nuan bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. She had recorded the call, at least the moment her voice had trembled through the speaker. She’d even taken a screenshot — a secret memory tucked away just for herself. But she wasn’t about to confess that.

She rolled out of bed, grabbing her coat. “I’m heading home,” she said casually, then paused at the door. “Oh—and next time, I’ll come sooner. Don’t suffer alone.”

She blinked, puzzled. “Next time?”

She winked. “Bye.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

Han Zaijing sat there, speechless. She glanced at the discarded patch on the floor, then rubbed h temples.

“That damn drug…” she muttered, “Why does it always make me forget everything?”

Yet despite her confusion, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.