I Flirted with My Younger Uncle and Ran, but He Fell Head Over Heels

Zhou Yan was mature, steady, reserved, and refined, a force to be reckoned with in the business world. At a friend's request, he temporarily took care of Qiao Xia. He fulfilled every responsibility as her guardian flawlessly. Until one day, he found a series of blood-stirring sketches in a sketchbook she'd left behind. The unclothed muscles were clearly defined. A man was chained to the side of a desk, his shirt torn open, with a tantalizing glimpse of what lay below his waist. Zhou Yan's hand clenched tight. What skill! It would have been even better if the man's face in the drawings hadn't been his. Qiao Xia was known in their circle as a well-behaved girl, with a strict curfew of eleven at night. But in private, she had an unmentionable hobby: drawing anatomical studies. The star of her sketches was always her uncle Zhou Yan, who wasn't related to her by blood. She knew Zhou Yan preferred gentle, elegant women, but she still confessed her feelings to him with all her heart. His response was a polite, distant rejection: "I'm sorry. We're not right for each other." Then Qiao Xia did something outrageously improper. She pulled off Zhou Yan's shirt, threw him onto his desk, and kissed him by force. "Now that I've had you, I won't pine after you anymore." * Zhou Yan realized that she really had stopped pining after him. How could she stop liking him just like that? Or had she only liked his face and body? What kind of twisted view of love was that?