Chapter 8

The rest of the summer vacation.

Yan Chen was going to the villa halfway up Nanshan for the summer.

At the dining table, he tapped me absentmindedly.

“Xiao Hua, pack your things and come with me.”

The air suddenly froze.

Mrs. Yan’s hand holding the knife and fork hovered in midair, her thumb pressing down slightly.

It was as if she was cruelly crushing an ant to death.

“Xiao Chen, since when are you willing to be alone with her?”

Looking back-

Yan Chen never said more than ten sentences to me.

Nine out of ten were: “So annoying, get lost.”

The last one:

“Lin Xiao Hua, stop swaying in front of me, you’re so ugly I could puke.”

Everyone in the Yan Family knew he avoided me like poison.

But now-

The molecules in the air shifted subtly.

Mrs. Yan began to suspect him, and to suspect me.

I hurried to pledge my loyalty.

“Madam, I only listen to your orders.”

Yan Chen gritted his teeth and sneered coldly.

“Lin Xiao Hua, whose dog are you really?”

“Fine, if she doesn’t go, send Song Minxin back.”

Only then did I realize that Song Minxin going abroad was Mrs. Yan’s arrangement.

For someone at the top-

Losing control of one’s emotions toward people or things is a disaster.

Yan Chen was her proud creation.

If a puppet on strings developed a preference, it might become aware of itself and rebel.

But Mrs. Yan wanted him to stay obedient forever.

I’d seen Yan Chen desecrate Song Minxin’s photo.

Mad, like a hurricane, losing consciousness, pain written all over his face.

He loved her.

“Then bring Song Minxin back. Who the hell wants to stay with a bumpkin like this!”

“You think you can control me forever?!”

Yan Chen suffered from a terrifying illness when he lost it.

The Yan Family all called it hysteria.

In short, he destroyed everything, and hurt himself too.

Everywhere he went, it was devastation.

Mrs. Yan said, “Xiao Chen, you’re sick again.”

“Ning Shu, you’re sick too!”

He stopped, pressing his palm hard against the dining table, locking eyes with Mrs. Yan at the head seat.

His eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging on his forehead.

Even angry, he did not lose his nobility.

Like a mutated rose-ferocious, exuding a chill.

“Call Luosheng over.”

Mrs. Yan ordered calmly.

The family doctor lived in the house, just around the corner.

The sedative was pushed in through the syringe.

Yan Chen was restrained and taken upstairs.

It wasn’t until evening, when I went to bring him dinner.

They looked at me as if I was about to walk through fire and knives.

As if stepping into Yan Chen’s room, venomous vines would lash out and strangle me.

I went upstairs, carrying the food, and pushed open the door.

The room was a mess.

“Yan Chen.”

I called out.

“Lock the door.”

His voice was slightly hoarse, with a gravitational pull.

It drew people in.

I dropped the lock.

Walked over.

The quilt hung loosely off the bed; he was lying sideways, neck tilted back, the protruding Adam’s apple like an unripe cherry.

I was always amazed-beautiful people, even their joints had a pinkish hue.

I didn’t know there…

“Help me out.”

He was ordering.

His tone casual, as if discussing dinner, not at all vexed.

“But I don’t know how.”

His upturned head moved a little.

That full chin, like a little heart, and upside down, his lips looked even more like a flower.

A faint voice: “Like that time I did it myself. Didn’t you peek and see?”

“Otherwise, I’ll bite you.”

Yan Chen had many secret quirks.

He liked to bite people.

He’d bite the soft flesh of my forearm, shoulder, collarbone.

He said it was an oral fixation he hadn’t grown out of.

“If not you, it’d be someone else. My mom watches me so closely, I don’t even have a woman around.”

I whispered a protest, “I am a woman.”

He sneered, lips curling. “Heh, wood doesn’t have a gender.”

“Hurry up-do you want me to bite you to death?”

I hesitated and shuffled over.

Pulled back the thing covering his waist.

So pale.

He shuddered slightly, the ridges along his belly seemed sculpted, even in depth.

You could vaguely see blue veins winding under the thin skin.

So pink.

He grabbed the quilt, biting down hard on the edge.

“Xinxin…”

He murmured.

I said, “Do you want me to bring her photo?”

He clenched his teeth. “Good idea.”

I was about to move.

He swung his arm around, pulling me closer.

Those amber eyes, deep as ink, stared at me, filled with an intensity that would not dissolve.

“Forget it, too much trouble, I’ll just imagine.”

“Oh.”

It was as if I’d found some incredible switch.

I listened to him sob, stuttering.

His breathing uneven.

I looked up at him.

Met his brooding gaze.

Only then did I realize he hadn’t kept his eyes closed, fantasizing about Song Minxin.

He had turned his head ever so slightly all along.

My every movement exposed to his sight.

“Lin Xiao Hua.”

“Mm?”

His left hand nearly crushed the edge of the quilt, his voice fractured, on the verge of madness.

Wet lashes, the Adam’s apple bobbing, he looked like a beautiful male妖, seducing travelers on the road to the capital.

“Do you… want some ice cream?”