Chapter 171: Vanilla Dreams

Bai Yue sat at her desk on the marketing floor, staring at the same spreadsheet for the fifth time in ten minutes. The numbers blurred together, revenue projections, synergy estimates, timelines for the Stellar Dynamics merger. All of it should have been straightforward, but her brain kept short-circuiting every time she tried to focus.

It had been two days since the café. Two days since Han Shān had sat across from her with that winter-steel gaze and offered her a part-time nanny position like it was the most logical thing in the world. Two days since his fingers had brushed hers when he slid the sleek black card across the table. Two days since he had paused at the door and mentioned the stars on his penthouse terrace.

She kept replaying the moment his voice had softened, just a fraction, when he talked about Zhen calling her “the cookie lady who doesn’t mind sticky hands.”

“Focus, Bai Yue,” she muttered under her breath, clicking through another column of figures. “You are a grown woman with a mortgage-adjacent rent payment and a group chat that will roast you alive if you mess this up.”

The merger was moving fast. Late meetings, tight deadlines, and the constant low hum of office gossip about Han Shān and his fiery rival Zhao Yàn. The two men had faced off in the lobby like protagonists in a corporate drama, and the entire floor had pretended not to watch while secretly live-texting the showdown.

Bai Yue rubbed her temples. Her eyes felt gritty from staring at screens. She had stayed late again last night, trying to prove she wasn’t just the woman who crawled under conference tables for toddlers. The work was good. Challenging. But her mind kept drifting to snow-white hair.

She saved the file, stood, and headed for the break room. A strong coffee might reset her brain.

The hallway was quiet this late in the evening. Most people had gone home. She poured herself a cup, added way too much creamer, and leaned against the counter, letting the steam warm her face.

That was when the exhaustion hit. She had barely slept the night before, restless dreams she couldn’t quite remember. Her eyelids felt heavy. Just five minutes, she told herself. She slipped into one of the empty lounge chairs in the corner, set the coffee down, and closed her eyes.

~

The dream came fast and vivid, like someone had flipped a switch in her subconscious.

She was standing on a wide penthouse terrace under a sky full of stars so bright they looked fake. The city glittered far below, but up here it was quiet. Cool night air brushed her skin. Han Shān was there, closer than he had any right to be. No suit this time, just a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled up, exposing the faint scar on his knuckle she had noticed in the café.

“Miss Bai,” he said, voice low and rough in a way that sent heat curling down her spine. “The stars are clear tonight.”

She laughed softly, the sound breathless even to her own ears. “You say that like it’s an invitation.”

“It is.” He stepped closer. One hand rose, slow enough that she could pull away if she wanted. She didn’t. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, then lingered at her jaw. “You said yes to the nanny position. But I keep wondering if you’d say yes to something else.”

Her heart hammered. “Like what?”

“Like this.”

He leaned in. Their lips met, soft at first, then deeper, like he had been holding back for years and finally let go. He tasted like black coffee and winter air. One of his hands slid to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. She melted into it, fingers curling into his shirt, a small sound escaping her throat that made him groan quietly against her mouth.

It felt right. Familiar in a way that made no sense. Like coming home after wandering through someone else’s life.

“Han Shān…” she whispered when they broke apart, foreheads still touching.

He smiled. “Say my name again.”

She opened her mouth to do exactly that—

And jolted awake.

Bai Yue sat up with a gasp, nearly knocking over her coffee. Her cheeks were burning. Her pulse raced like she had run up ten flights of stairs. She pressed both hands to her face, mortified.

“Okay,” she whispered to the empty break room. “You are definitely hallucinating. Or sleep-deprived. Or both. That did not just happen. You did not just dream about kissing your potential boss, the emotionally unavailable CEO who stares at stars and has two adorable disaster children. Nope. Not real. Delete from memory immediately.”

She grabbed her coffee and took a long, scalding sip, hoping the burn would ground her back in reality. It didn’t. The dream lingered, the warmth of his hand on her back, the way his voice had dropped when he said her name, the rare smile that had made her stomach flip even in sleep.

“Professional boundaries, Yue,” she muttered, standing up. “You are going to nanny for his kids on weekends, not star-gaze and make out on his terrace. Get it together.”

She headed back to her desk, determined to finish the last few slides before calling it a night. The office was even quieter now. Only the hum of the air conditioning and the distant click of a cleaning cart broke the silence.

Her phone buzzed on the desk.

She glanced at it absently, expecting another message from the group chat, probably Sophie sending another unhinged theory about single-dad Han Shān.

But the number was unknown.

She unlocked the screen.

Unknown: You looked tired today. The merger is moving fast, but don’t push yourself too hard. —H

Bai Yue stared at the message, heart doing that stupid stutter again. Han Shān. It had to be. The black card he had given her had the same sleek, minimalist style. But how did he know she looked tired? Had he seen her in the break room? Or was this just another layer of the ice king’s quiet observation?

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. What was she even supposed to reply? Thanks, but I just had a wildly inappropriate dream about kissing you, so fresh air might not be safe right now?

No. Absolutely not.

She typed something safe instead.

Bai Yue: Thank you for the concern, Mr. Shān. I’m wrapping up now. The nanny schedule should be fine for this weekend if that still works.

She hit send before she could overthink it.

The reply came almost immediately.

Unknown: It works. Zhen has been asking about the “cookie lady” nonstop. Rui Xuě hasn’t said much, but he picked out extra glow-in-the-dark stickers for you. See you Saturday. Bring comfortable shoes. The terrace has steps.

Bai Yue’s lips curved into a small, helpless smile. She could already picture Zhen launching herself across the room like a tiny missile, chocolate probably involved again.

She saved her work, powered down her computer, and gathered her things. The dream still lingered at the edges of her mind, warm and dangerous. She told herself it was just exhaustion. Stress from the merger. Nothing more.

The elevator ride down was quiet. She stepped out into the cool night air, pulling her coat tighter. The city lights stretched endlessly, but her eyes drifted upward, searching for stars between the skyscrapers. They were faint, but they were there.

Her phone buzzed again.

Another message from the unknown number.

Unknown: One more thing. If Zhao Yàn approaches you, be careful. He enjoys games. Don’t let him pull you into one.

Bai Yue frowned. Zhao Yàn, the red-haired rival with the dangerous smirk who had faced off with Han Shān in the lobby. She had seen the tension between them. It felt personal, deeper than corporate rivalry.

She started typing a reply, something polite and neutral, when a third message came through.

Unknown: Sweet dreams, Miss Bai.

Her steps faltered on the sidewalk. Sweet dreams. The exact words that would have fit perfectly after the kiss in her dream. Coincidence? Or had the universe decided to torment her tonight?

She shook her head, smiling despite herself, and tucked the phone away. It was late. She needed sleep, real sleep, without penthouse terraces or winter-steel eyes or hands that felt too right against her skin.

The walk to her apartment was short. She let herself in, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed onto the couch without bothering to change. The dream replayed in fragments as her eyes drifted shut again.

This time, when sleep pulled her under, it felt less like a random hallucination and more like a memory she couldn’t quite place.

She woke hours later to the sound of her phone ringing insistently. The room was dark. Her heart was pounding for no reason she could name. She fumbled for the device, squinting at the screen.

Unknown number again.

She answered without thinking. “Hello?”

A low, amused voice slid through the line, with a hint of a smile.

“Miss Bai Yue. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

It wasn’t Han Shān.

The voice belonged to Zhao Yàn.

Bai Yue sat up straight, suddenly wide awake. “Mr. Yàn? How did you get this number?”

A soft chuckle. “I have my ways. Consider it professional curiosity. I saw you in the lobby the other day. You handled that little…family interruption with Han Shān’s children quite gracefully. Most people would have run screaming.”

She swallowed hard. “It was nothing. Just kids being kids.”

“Admirable,” he purred. “Not many can make the ice king’s chaos goblins smile on the first try. Tell me, has he already offered you the nanny position? Or are you still pretending the merger is the only reason you keep looking toward his private elevator?”

Bai Yue’s stomach dropped. How much did he know? And why did he sound so entertained by it?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said carefully.

Another laugh, warmer this time. “Don’t worry. I’m not calling to cause trouble. Not yet, anyway. I just wanted to extend my own invitation. Dinner sometime. No mergers. No rivals. Just good food and better conversation. You seem like someone who could use a little fire to balance all that ice.”

Her mind flashed to the dream again, Han Shān’s hand on her back, his rare smile, the way he had said her name like a secret. Then to Zhao Yàn’s smirk in the lobby, the crackle of tension between the two men.

She opened her mouth to politely decline.

But before she could speak, Zhao Yàn’s voice dropped, turning diabolical.

“By the way… I know you had an interesting dream earlier today. Sweet dreams indeed, Miss Bai. Sleep well. I’ll be in touch.”

The line went dead.

Bai Yue stared at her phone, heart hammering against her ribs. How could he possibly know about the dream?

The screen lit up one final time with a new message from the same unknown number.

Unknown: Sweet dreams really are the best kind… aren’t they? Especially when they feel like memories. —Z

She dropped the phone like it had burned her.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep