Chapter 1: Not in the Mood Tonight

“Could we keep it to an hour tonight?”

“Little Yu has a fever. He needs me.”

The man’s voice was hoarse, almost pleading. He had humbled himself utterly.

Su Jingwan’s eyes flew open. Her chest heaved, the agony of a knife plunging into her heart still searing through her.

She stared down in bewilderment at the man kneeling beside the bed.

His collar hung half open, exposing his chest and abs. She had his tie clutched in her hand, and the slight tension made the veins stand out on his neck.

Most startling of all, her bare foot was between his legs, pressed against his arousal.

Jingwan snatched her foot back and looked around, her heart still racing.

A single warm yellow lamp lit the vast bedroom, casting a soft glow over its luxurious furnishings.

Seeing her movement, the man removed his shirt as though conceding, though he didn’t dare get up. “Then we’ll keep going until you’re satisfied.”

His voice finally brought her attention back to him. He was none other than her lawful husband, Huo Congli: head of the Huo family and the cold-faced king of hell whose name struck fear into everyone outside their home.

And here he was, kneeling before her bed with his clothes in disarray, evidently regretting what he’d just said.

Jingwan swallowed. When she realized she was still gripping his tie, she let go at once. Unfortunately, it landed across his face like an insult.

He seemed used to being treated this way. His lips pressed together. “…Do you still want to? Do you still need me?”

She was speechless.

Hadn’t Ji Huaizhi stabbed her to death?

What was she doing here?

She could still feel the blade piercing her flesh, still remember the terror of growing cold as her blood drained away. She shuddered.

Ji Huaizhi had killed more than her. He had also murdered Huo Yujing, her only child with Congli.

She remembered that little body shielding her from a knife. Her son had died before her, calling for his mother to the very end.

Yet she had been a terrible mother, giving him hardly any love. She’d only had him to secure her place in the Huo family.

She had cared for wealth and luxury alone. She’d felt nothing for Congli.

Lost in thought, she jumped when a cool, broad hand gently closed around her ankle.

Her palm cracked across his face, turning his head. Jingwan was stunned by what she’d done. It had been instinct; she hadn’t managed to stop herself.

As far as she could remember, Congli had indulged her every whim. If she’d wanted the stars, he would have plucked them from the sky. He had never once lost his temper with her.

And Jingwan had treated him as little more than an exceptionally accommodating bedmate, turning to him whenever she wanted pleasure. Nothing more.

Even so, he had never complained.

The words “I’m sorry” lodged in her throat. She couldn’t get them out. “Um, you can go.”

She’d just come back to life. She wasn’t in the mood tonight.

Congli froze for a moment. A flicker of disappointment crossed his eyes before his expression settled again. “May I get up?”

She nodded.

He rose and began to dress, fabric rustling softly. Jingwan stole a glance at him and saw lingering bite marks and scratches across his bare muscles. There were even marks around his wrists.

She closed her eyes. All her handiwork.

How had she never noticed how insatiable she was when it came to him?

“Are you sure you don’t want to continue?” His voice came from above her, even and unreadable.

“Didn’t you say our son has a fever?” She kept her eyes averted, staring at nothing in particular. “Go take care of him.”

Congli gave her several searching looks before he left. To Jingwan, they seemed to ask what on earth had gotten into her tonight.

After closing the door, he stood outside for a while.

Five minutes passed. Jingwan neither threw a tantrum nor smashed anything. She remained quiet, as though she truly didn’t need him anymore.

His breathing grew uneven. He rubbed the space between his brows, mastering his emotions before heading to another room.

* * *

Jingwan had always been afraid of death. She had spent years chasing after Ji Huaizhi, even using Congli’s money to support him. In the end, he’d killed her with his own hands.

His reason was simple: he wanted to silence her so he could marry a beautiful, wealthy woman without anything standing in his way.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She even retched twice, then hurried to drink some warm water to settle her stomach.

Heaven had given her another chance. She wouldn’t be such a fool again.

When she opened her door, she saw the housekeeper carrying medicine to Huo Yujing’s room. Her thoughts in turmoil, she found herself following.

The housekeeper handed the prepared medicine to Congli. The chill had faded from his face, replaced by a gentleness she rarely saw.

He adored Yujing. The boy was his son, after all, and the only heir in a family that had produced one son per generation for several generations.

Jingwan approached slowly. Through the crack in the door, she saw the little boy in Congli’s arms. A cooling patch rested on his forehead, his cheeks were flushed, and his big, watery eyes came from her.

Guilt weighed on her.

Her son’s dying cries of “Mama” had awakened a mother’s love buried deep inside her. An ache swelled in her chest.

In her previous life, she had insisted on taking the boy away from Congli. He must have hated her for it.

“Daddy, does Mommy know Little Yu is sick?” The three-year-old’s eyes shone with longing for his mother’s love. “Why won’t Mommy come see me?”

Jingwan expected Congli to tell him what a poor mother she was. Instead, he stroked the boy’s head, his eyes lowered and his expression peaceful. “Mommy is just as worried about you as Daddy is. She’s not very good at showing it, but even if she doesn’t say it, she loves you very much. See? Mommy made your medicine herself.”

“Really?” Little Yu’s eyes lit up. “Then I’ll be good and drink it, so I can get better quickly.”

He was such a sweet, sensible child. Congli had raised him well.

Jingwan watched father and son in the warm lamplight. Congli looked every bit the devoted husband and father. Who would have guessed how many intimate marks lay beneath his neatly pressed shirt?

Her gaze lingered on Little Yu. Even after he’d fallen asleep, he was smiling, all because he believed his mother had made his medicine. A child needed so little to be happy.

Her feelings tangled together. She stood at the door a little longer, then left.

After she was gone, Congli slowly opened his eyes. Something flickered in them, impossible to read. Jingwan’s behavior tonight had been far too unusual…

* * *

When Congli returned to the bedroom, Jingwan was tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

She was afraid this second life was some strange dream, and that if she fell asleep, she would never wake up again.

Anxiety coursed through her until she saw Congli return.

Their eyes met, but neither spoke.

Seeing that she had no further instructions for him, he went into the bathroom to shower.

Strangely enough, knowing he was nearby eased much of her fear. Sleepiness crept over her, and she yawned.

They had married because she was pregnant. In their three years of marriage, whatever trouble she’d caused, Congli had always dealt with it and kept any blame from reaching her.

Perhaps that was why she felt safe. Without noticing, she had grown increasingly dependent on him.

Some time later, halfway between sleep and waking, Jingwan felt a warm chest press against her back. An arm drew her close, and a flurry of light kisses fell on the nape of her neck…