Chapter 1: The Wrong Bed

At 3 a.m., An Chuchu stumbled out of the room, clutching her slender waist, her delicate face flushed with excitement.

The transformation from girl to woman was far more painful than menstrual cramps.

The two hours of passion left her so embarrassed she could die.

Yes, on the eve of her 23rd birthday and her engagement night—An Chuchu had finally become Meng Ting’s woman.

Tossing and turning with excitement, sleep eluded her. Her legs ached as she slid out of bed.

Where could Meng Ting have gone...?

Had last night been too intense, making him too embarrassed to face her? deeper blush crept across her cheeks. Unexpectedly, Meng Ting’s desire had been... a far cry from his usual gentle demeanor.

They had been dating for two years. Any normal man would have needs, and she had hinted at being with Meng Ting.

But Meng Ting, traditional in his thinking, had solemnly promised never to touch her before marriage. His sense of responsibility had once made An Chuchu believe he was the most trustworthy partner.

Yet somehow, last night, they had crossed the line...

She remembered drinking the glass of red wine her sister had enthusiastically handed her at the birthday party, then Meng Ting helping her to the bathroom...

The rest was self-explanatory.

Tomorrow, they would be engaged. Meng Ting probably thought, what’s one more day?

After all, it was inevitable—water finding its way to the riverbed.

With Meng Ting gone, sleep still eluded An Chuchu.

Why not take another look at the birthday gift Meng Ting had given her—the lush pine branches outside the hotel rooftop, adorned with photos of their memories?

Under that very tree, Meng Ting had held flowers and knelt on one knee in front of all their friends and family...

Hearing those words—"Marry me"—she had felt like the happiest woman in the world.

Maybe Meng Ting was up there reliving the moment too.

An Chuchu tiptoed out of her room—only to hear strange commotion from the next door.

"Meng Ting, listen to me, I swear I don’t know how this happened!"

Her gaze snapped toward the sound. A man stormed out of the neighboring room, bare-chested, one arm tugging on a shirt while the other frantically fastened his belt.

"Chu Chu?" Equally disheveled, An Shan rushed out after him, clutching the sides of her lace nightgown. The moment she spotted An Chuchu across the hallway, she clapped a hand over her mouth, her face pale with shock.

"Chu Chu, listen to me—"

The man froze. His expression darkened.

Three pairs of eyes locked—An Chuchu was stunned.

What the hell?!

She was looking at her sister and Meng Ting?

Through the thin fabric of An Shan’s nightgown, An Chuchu could see her sister wasn’t wearing a bra. And the fresh marks on her collarbone—

An Chuchu knew what those marks meant. They were the telltale signs of intimacy between a man and a woman. Meng Ting had them too—scratches, each one deeper than the last, etched into his firm muscles.

Meng Ting looked mortified. "I drank too much last night and got confused... I thought you were her..."

"Chu Chu, I’m so sorry!" An Shan’s eyes welled with tears of guilt. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was drunk too."

"So... you two slept together?" The words struck An Chuchu like thunder, her mind reeling as she stared at them, eyes wide.

Meng Ting hung his head, shame and regret etched on his face. An Shan couldn’t even lift her gaze.

An Chuchu’s heart trembled. They had slept together—her fiancé and her own sister?!

Was this some kind of cruel joke?!

Wait... then what about her?! If they had slept together, who the hell had she slept with?!