Under the bizarre cascade of multicolored neon lights, youthful faces shimmered in the crowded bar, their expressions flushed with excitement and alcohol. Arms flailed in the air, bodies swayed and twisted to the pulsing beat of the music—this was their escape, a final celebration before the impending pressures of university life swallowed them whole.

Among them was Milim, her skin damp with sweat from dancing, her breath uneven. She pulled herself out of the writhing crowd and returned to the high bar table, where her glass of wine waited. She took a sip, then turned to the boy seated nearby. “I'm going to the bathroom. Don’t leave without me, okay?”

The boy, too busy joking around with friends, barely glanced at her. “Yeah, yeah. Go.”

Milim scoffed, curling her lips in slight annoyance. “Bummer,” she muttered, turning away. The night had felt more exhausting than enjoyable. Hanging out with the girls was boring—what she really loved was dancing.

But Milim didn’t notice the man who had been watching her since she entered the bar. Standing at a distance, his eyes hadn’t left her once. When she passed by him earlier, her slim figure and youthful charm had stirred something dark in him. His gaze lingered lasciviously on her retreating figure, and as she made her way toward the restroom, he followed without hesitation.

She entered the bathroom, unaware of the predator trailing behind her.

Inside the restroom, Milim felt her body growing hotter by the second. She entered a cubicle, splashed water on her face, and stumbled to the sink, turning the faucet to full blast. Her reflection stared back from the mirror—cheeks flushed, pupils dilated. A terrible realization struck her.

The wine had been drugged.

Panic clutched her chest. She looked around, heart pounding. Then she saw it: a shadowy figure lingering suspiciously by one of the cubicles, pretending not to notice her but watching intently. Her instincts screamed danger.

She clenched her teeth. Scum.

Turning sharply, her eyes landed on another man—tall, poised, and well-dressed, leaning against the sink. He looked like someone important, refined even. Milim didn’t know if she could make it out of the bathroom alone. Desperation overrode fear.

Dragging her feet toward him, she whispered, “Big brother… help me.”

Dylan, half-dazed from his own drinking, thought he was imagining the voice—until he turned and saw a delicate girl clutching his shirt, her eyes pleading.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, voice deep and calm.

Milim gripped his shirt tighter. “Someone’s… staring at me. Please, take me out…”

His sharp eyes swept the room. When he spotted the man lurking in the cubicle, his gaze turned cold. “I know,” he muttered.

Milim tried to speak more, to explain that her classmates were waiting for her, but her legs buckled. She collapsed into Dylan’s arms.

Dylan, towering at nearly two meters, lifted her effortlessly. Milim’s small frame—barely reaching his chest—felt light in his arms. As he turned to leave, the man from the cubicle stepped out, his face dark.

“She’s with me,” the man lied, reaching out.

Dylan didn’t even break stride. He walked right past him.

“Sir, I said—!”

Dylan stopped. He looked down at the man, his voice low and deadly: “Get. Lost.”

The man's face paled at the terrifying look in Dylan’s eyes, and he froze in place.

Milim clung to Dylan like a frightened kitten, her body writhing with discomfort. Her breaths were shallow and feverish. “So… hot…”

A fruity sweetness lingered on her breath, mingled with the scent of alcohol. Oddly enough, Dylan wasn’t repulsed. At twenty-nine, he’d yet to meet a woman whose scent didn’t make him recoil. His friends often joked he’d die a picky old virgin.

Curious, he held her tighter, assessing her scent. Strangely… it didn’t disgust him.

He booked a room at the nearest hotel without a second thought. Along the way, Milim clung to him, rubbing her face against his chest, twitching restlessly like a helpless animal. Dylan remained impassive—ignoring the hotel clerk’s suspicious gaze.

Milim didn’t understand what was happening. She was driven purely by instinct, acting on whatever gave her the slightest relief. But as someone easily bruised and afraid of pain, she didn’t thrash violently. Instead, she balled her small fist and feebly pounded against Dylan’s chest.

He turned off the shower, grabbed her wrist gently, and said, “Enough.”

He had no intention of taking advantage of her—not just because she seemed so young, but because there was no lust in his heart, only curiosity and caution.

Lifting her into the bathtub, he wrapped her in a towel. Yet just as he relaxed, her small mouth latched onto his shoulder and bit down.

He grunted softly, not letting go. Sighing, he looked at the damp hair pressed against him. Her features were delicate, her expression twisted with discomfort.

If someone else had found her in that bathroom…

It was a miracle she had ended up with someone like him.

After placing her on the bed, Dylan gently pinched her cheek to stop her from biting. She whimpered, eyes still shut, clearly suffering.

Without hesitation, Dylan fetched a hairdryer and began drying her soaked hair.

Milim, dazed, clung to his arm, resting her cheek against it. Dylan, surprisingly at ease with her weight, allowed it and continued blow-drying her hair in silence.

But it wasn’t enough.

She reached out from beneath the quilt, tugging his sleeve weakly. “Please… help me. I feel so uncomfortable…”

Her eyes, glazed with tears, met his. Dylan froze.

“I’m not that kind of man,” he said sternly, backing away and tucking the quilt around her tighter.

Milim let out a broken sob. Why did she have such terrible luck? Was it too late to ask this man to find someone else for her?

“Then… can you find someone for me?”

Dylan leaned in, straining to hear her slurred voice. After a long pause, he frowned.

Truthfully, he felt no emotional attachment to the girl—only a strange tolerance for her scent and presence. But despite her pleas, his morals held fast.

And so he stood there, conflicted, staring down at the fragile girl who had unknowingly stirred something dormant inside him.

Author’s Note:

This chapter shows how Milim and Dylan first met. Things happened unexpectedly, and their story begins here. Thanks for reading.

From Milim's internal disposition, she was somewhat prepared to lose her chastity the moment she realized that she had consumed spiked wine. In all seriousness, she didn't place strong importance on chastity, but that didn’t mean she was a casual person. If she hadn’t been tricked by some pervert, she probably wouldn’t have ended up in bed alone with a stranger.

Without waiting for Dylan to respond, Milim resigned herself to fate and propped herself up, searching for her phone.

"What are you doing?" Dylan asked, misinterpreting her sudden movements. He assumed she was actually going to call someone else. His brows furrowed. Could it really be that unbearable for her? 'Is it possible this young girl, who looks so innocent, is already a veteran in this kind of situation?' he wondered.

Inexplicably, Dylan felt a burst of anger. He always despised people with unrestrained private lives, especially those who had been with many partners at a young age. Milim, oblivious to his internal judgment, weakly fell back onto the bed, limbs splayed, and said in a low voice, "Call my phone. Inform my classmate."

Fortunately, she was clear enough to be understood. "Tell them not to wait for me," she added. Dylan’s expression relaxed slightly. As he picked up her phone, Milim added another request, "And find me a clean man. I’m about to die."

His face darkened.

Dylan stood up and walked to the side of the room to make a call. Once connected, he quickly explained the situation and hung up. As for her second request, he didn’t have the resources or the mood to find someone. But if she truly couldn’t endure it any longer... he sighed, loosened his tie in frustration, and walked back with a cold expression.

When his imposing figure loomed over her, Milim breathed a sigh of relief, thinking her suffering would end soon. But she was wrong. Very wrong.

No, it wasn’t just dying once—it felt like dying repeatedly.

"Inhuman animal. Hypocrite," Milim thought, eyes hollow with accusation, feeling the relentless jolts of his actions. She felt like she was constantly dying and reviving. Dylan originally had no intention of going that far. But his emotions spiraled, and he lost control.

"I foolishly allowed myself to indulge several times in a row and did something that violated my principles," he later thought.

When it was over, Milim's exhausted body collapsed. She didn't even have the strength to move her fingers.

Dylan noticed the aftermath in the dim hotel light—marks and bruises that startled him. For a moment, he was frozen, pondering what he had done. He wasn’t usually this rough. In fact, he had never acted like this before. This was completely out of character.

He glanced at the clock. It was just before 1:00 a.m. He got dressed quickly and left the hotel room. After searching around, he found a 24-hour drugstore and went straight to the counter.

"Do you have any ointment for swelling and pain relief?" he asked. "And... can it be used on broken skin?"

The clerk handed him the ointment with a nod, her eyes trailing to the fresh bite mark on his neck. Her cheeks flushed.

"Would you like condoms as well?" she asked politely.

Dylan’s face turned pale. He had forgotten to use one. "No need," he replied curtly, paid, and stormed out.

It was past 2:00 a.m. when he returned to the hotel. He ordered warm water, soaked a towel, and gently wiped Milim clean. Then, he carefully applied the ointment. It was 3:00 a.m. by the time he lay down beside her. He couldn’t sleep.

Just moments ago, he had seen more bruises—serious ones. He began to doubt himself. Was he some kind of pervert? A monster? The shame painted his face red and blue.

Eventually, sleep claimed him.

Dylan kept a disciplined routine and rarely stayed up past 1:00 a.m., but this night had thrown his system out of balance.

Milim, on the other hand, had just finished her college entrance exam and usually woke up before 7:00 a.m. She was no exception that morning. She awoke... and immediately regretted it.

"F**k."

Her entire body ached like she'd been hit by a truck. Every muscle screamed. Even her mouth hurt.

It took her a few seconds to recall the shameful memories of the night before. She groaned and covered her eyes with her hands.

"Ah... I want to die."

‘When I was under the influence, it felt okay to roll around with someone. But now that I’m sober, I hate it.’

At 19 years old, Milim slowly sat up, her body trembling. She glanced at the man beside her. He was so handsome—high nose bridge, defined features. But no matter how beautiful he looked, he was still a beast in her eyes.

She spotted the bruises he’d left—discolorations of all shapes and sizes. Her skin looked like an abstract painting. She winced trying to move and quickly looked for her clothes, finding them neatly folded on the bathroom sink.

After dressing, she fled the hotel like it was on fire.

It was just past 7:00 a.m., so the streets were mostly empty. The cold morning air bit through her clothes. She hugged herself and checked her wallet. Only two hundred-yuan bills remained. That was meant to be split among friends last night.

She texted: "How much was everyone’s portion last night? I’ll pay you back when I pass by."

A few moments later, her phone buzzed.

"We didn’t split the bill. Some local rich guy paid for everything."

Milim sighed. Nothing good came from this night.

She stopped at a street vendor and ordered a small breakfast, paying with one of the hundred-yuan bills. "Thanks," she whispered, carefully pocketing her change.

She took a few coins, paid her bus fare, and boarded a ride toward her family home in the old city district.

Milim came from a well-off but ordinary family. She had a high-achieving older sister and a gifted younger brother who had skipped grades to attend a prestigious middle school. Compared to them, Milim often felt like the forgotten middle child.

Her parents placed their hopes in the eldest and youngest. They closely monitored their success, ensuring nothing distracted them. Milim, on the other hand, was given more freedom. If she did poorly on an exam, she wasn’t scolded. If she went out to play, it was fine—as long as she came home on time.

But last night had been different. This was her first time not returning home.

She reached home at 8:00 a.m., heart pounding. But her parents weren’t even up yet. Her younger brother, Lin, was studying in the living room.

He looked up and greeted her faintly. "Morning."

"Studying already?" Milim asked.

"Almost done," he replied.

Milim relaxed a little. Since it was only Lin, she changed her shoes and quietly said, "I’ll go sleep in the room so I don’t disturb you."

"Mm," Lin nodded, already back to focusing on his work.

They shared a room with bunk beds—Milim on top, Lin on the bottom. But today, she couldn’t climb up. She collapsed onto her brother’s bed and curled up like a shrimp.

When Lin entered a while later, he found her sound asleep. The brilliant junior high student quietly walked over and gently covered her with a blanket.

Author’s Note:

Thanks for reading Chapter 2 of Love in Full Bloom. More drama and twists coming soon—stay tuned!

Milim emerged from her bedroom around half-past eight in the morning and happened to run into her mother and father, who were both getting ready for work.

She greeted them, saying, “Dad, Mom, good morning. Has my younger brother gotten out of bed yet?”

May fixed her gaze on the door of the room her children shared, and her tone almost made it sound like it wasn’t a question, but a statement.

Their father, James, simply smiled and said, “Milim, that child is always like this during summer vacation. She’d sleep all day, pretending she wouldn’t wake up.”

Clearly, they were all accustomed to this.

“When your brother finally wakes up, get him something to eat so that boy won’t starve to death,” May added as she and James headed out the door and drove off to work.

Meanwhile, Dylan awoke in his hotel bed and instinctively reached for his phone to check the time.

It’s ten o’clock in the morning. I’ve slept three hours longer than usual, he thought.

Thinking about what had disrupted his usual schedule, he immediately turned to look at the other side of the bed — only to find it empty.

He sobered up instantly, lifting the quilt in search of that person, but there was no one.

He went to the bathroom, but again, not a single soul could be found.

Dylan frowned slightly and, after quickly washing up, left the hotel.

The girl he had spent the night with hadn’t left her name, contact information, or address.

Obviously, it had been nothing more than an ordinary one-night stand.

Dylan found his car in the parking area. As he started the engine, a sudden ringing from his phone broke the silence.

He focused on pulling out of the lot before answering.

“Hello,” he said.

It was his mother, Lucy. “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday,” she said.

“I shouldn’t have invited so many people to discuss your affairs without asking you first. It was disrespectful.”

“Indeed,” Dylan replied coldly.

“First of all, I am an individual. Secondly, your son. There’s no room for anyone to comment or interfere in my life.”

Lucy sighed. “So, we can't even talk about your life at all?”

“Yes,” Dylan affirmed bluntly.

An extended silence followed.

Dylan, growing tired of it, finally said, “Let’s discuss this later. It's not appropriate now.”

Then he ended the call and focused on driving back to his apartment.

The apartment was bright and lively only from Monday to Friday.

Because it was close to the company, Dylan basically lived there for convenience.

Across from his door lived Lucas, an old friend he had known since high school.

As Dylan entered his apartment, he paused, thinking he had walked into the wrong place — Lucas was lying casually on his sofa.

“No need to stare, this is your home,” Lucas chuckled as he sat up.

“Your mother called me, said you lost your temper last night and asked me to check on you.”

Dylan dropped everything he was carrying and trudged into his bedroom.

“Hey,” Lucas remarked, catching a strong whiff of alcohol as he followed.

“You really went drinking? Were you that mad?”

Leaning on the doorframe, Lucas continued, “Come on, it was just your family pushing you to get married. Who hasn’t been through that? Let them talk. It won’t even cost you a piece of meat.”

Seeing Dylan’s serious face, Lucas added with a grin, “Alright, I'll call some friends. Let’s go drinking tonight — it’s been too long. We’re not young anymore; everyone’s busy with their lives and families now.”

Indeed.

Thirty was an age full of pressure.

Meanwhile, Milim dozed off until noon, finally awakened by her younger brother, Lin.

He stood by her bed, worry etched on his face.

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked.

Milim, not wanting to frighten her brother, simply waved her hand weakly.

“It’s nothing important. I’ll get up in a while. Have you cooked?”

Lin, looking relieved, nodded. “Yeah. Come eat.”

Seeing Milim sit up slowly, Lin left the room without pressing further.

After sleeping all morning, Milim felt a little better, though her body — in certain sensitive areas — still ached dully.

Nevertheless, it was an improvement.

She had a surprisingly good appetite and ended up eating two bowls of rice beside her brother.

Once full, she put down her chopsticks and asked, “Do you know when big sis will have a holiday?”

Lin, who had always been closer to their eldest sister, answered readily.

“She won’t come back for the summer vacation. She’s flying to the United States to study.”

Milim’s mind went blank for a moment.

The United States?

That would surely cost a lot, and put even more strain on their parents.

“Is it organized by the school?” she asked, hopefully.

“That would cost less,” she thought.

But Lin shook his head.

“No. She’s going with her classmates.”

Milim said nothing more, quietly picking up the dishes to wash them.

From the kitchen, Lin called out, “Are you going to sleep again this afternoon?”

“No,” Milim said as she walked back out, drying her hands.

“I’m going out to look for a part-time job.”

Just like in previous years, Milim wanted to earn some money — partly to support herself and partly to buy things for her younger brother.

Lin, already flipping through a book, simply nodded.

That afternoon, Milim sniffed her clothes and grimaced.

The strong smell of alcohol and tobacco still lingered.

She quickly changed and washed her clothes from the night before, then headed out.

Although she knew many easy part-time jobs like waiting tables were available, they barely paid enough.

The only way to earn real money was through marketing or sales jobs — even if they were in places she’d rather avoid after her frightening experience at the bar.

Milim came across a well-known nightclub’s online ad for recruiting sales personnel.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to try.

At the club's front desk, the receptionist looked her up and down.

Seeing Milim’s young, student-like face, she hesitated.

“We don’t recruit minors here,” she said.

Annoyed, Milim pulled out her ID.

“Do I look like a minor?”

The receptionist giggled nervously.

With Milim’s nearly 1.7-meter height and mature aura, she clearly wasn’t a child.

“What position are you applying for?”

“Sales,” Milim answered firmly.

The receptionist gave her another once-over, then nodded.

“Come with me.”

Milim was led to meet Brother Zee , the supervisor.

Upon hearing she was only looking for a part-time job, Brother Zee frowned.

Temporary workers were troublesome and risky — especially in a nightclub environment.

“We don’t usually hire students," he said bluntly.

"But if you’re serious, you need to know: customers can sometimes get drunk and... not behave politely. We try to avoid problems, but it’s impossible to eliminate them completely.”

“I understand,” Milim said calmly.

“I can accept customers holding my hand or touching my waist — but not my butt.”

The room fell silent.

Brother Zee and the staff stared at her in shock.

They had never heard anyone state their boundaries so seriously.

Brother Zee chuckled, then warned,

“Sometimes you have to compromise your dignity to earn money here.

If you get angry over every little thing, you won’t survive in this job.”

“I understand. Please let me try,” Milim insisted.

“If I can’t meet expectations, I’ll quit on my own.”

Brother Zee sighed.

“If you’re serious, come tonight at 8 p.m. sharp.”

“Thank you!” Milim said brightly.

Brother Zee couldn’t help but smile.

With that face and that spirit, she won’t suffer losses — she might even become our new trump card, he thought.

By the time Milim finished her application, it was half-past four.

She rode a public bus back home.

At dinner, she told her parents she had found a part-time job and would start tonight.

“Isn’t it too soon?” May asked, concerned.

“Aren’t the exam results still coming out?”

“They won’t change anything,” Milim replied lightly.

“It’ll be an average score — nothing worth waiting for.”

“I’ll probably be home late tonight,” she added.

“What job keeps you out that late?” May pressed.

“Billiard room,” Milim answered vaguely.

Both parents frowned.

The billiard hall was full of rowdy young people.

Wouldn’t it be better to pass out flyers or work as a regular server?

Milim, however, seemed tired of such menial work.

“I’m sick of those kinds of jobs,” she said bluntly.

Seeing her resolve, the couple exchanged complicated glances but said no more.

They understood: with three children and endless expenses, they couldn’t stop Milim from working.

At least she was taking the initiative to ease the family’s burdens.