Chapter 12

He dragged me inside.

Eating ice cream.

“Lock the door from the inside.”

I ran back and forth, my footsteps echoing.

The surveillance cameras in the room had been removed last year.

He had fought for many years.

And won this time.

Yan Chen had a small refrigerator hidden in a small room.

“Eat this.”

He handed me a full tub of ice cream, from a factory under the Yan Family’s umbrella.

My eyes lit up.

He liked to add a lot of extra toppings.

Freeze-dried strawberry crumbles, dark chocolate, crispy caramel wafers…

After eating all of this, I felt like I could run from China to abroad.

But it was all my favorite food.

Eat!

“Yan Chen, you’re so good to me. No one else gets this, do they? I love you, you’re so great…”

The daily life of a sycophant, easily conjured.

He turned off the lights.

His voice, like cold jade, said, “Leftovers from the factory, defective products.”

“A little bit of kindness is enough to send you away. Who gives you food, you’ll run to them.”

I shook my head. “I only love you. I only eat what you give me.”

He coughed, his voice muffled as if trapped in a glass jar.

“Little fool.”

I took out a few packets of Pop Rocks from my pocket and sprinkled them on the ice cream.

“What’s this?”

I said, “A new way to eat it.”

“I want some too.”

“Then tilt your head back.”

He sat on the floor, tilting his chin up, his mouth slightly open.

“Open your mouth wider.”

I cupped his cheeks, pressing with my fingertips.

The rainbow-colored Pop Rocks poured down.

“There.”

He closed his lips.

The night breeze was gentle.

The rose trellis was almost bent double with flowers, so lush it looked like a plague of blossoms had erupted.

“Why is it setting off fireworks in my mouth?”

I said, “It’s normal. It’ll pop and crackle on your tongue.”

I lowered my head and dug for raisins with my spoon.

The rum-soaked raisins exuded a rich aroma.

The person behind me was silent.

His gaze was intense.

After a long while, his lazy, husky voice rose from beside my ear.

“Will it also get into my brain?”

I turned my head and saw his eyes shimmering with a vibrant, flowing color.

Yan Chen said quietly, “I feel like my brain is under heavy fire.”

Like World War III had broken out.

“Huh? No way, it’s just one dollar Pop Rocks.”

I looked down at the packaging.

I hoped I hadn’t made the young master sick.

In the moonlight, he moved closer, then lay down leisurely.

His voice gradually lowered.

“Who knows? Maybe you’ve poisoned me…”

I reached to pry his arm. “Are you okay then?”

He mumbled, “I won’t die.”

The moonlight veiled him like a sheer curtain.

I could still see the blood at the corner of his mouth and the red handprint on his face.

Yan Chen was eighteen.

I had followed him around for ten whole years.

The first time we were intimate,

Yan Chen was still a little tyrant, staring at me and saying, “You look like a watermelon boy.”

Back then, I had a bowl cut.

I secretly fought with him.

He bit my hand.

I bit his face.

Neither of us knew where fate would lead us.