Her waist was gripped by a large, hot hand, pressing her against the man's chest, as hard as iron.
His lips, dry yet carrying a fresh scent, kissed hers. In Shen Yue’s suddenly widened eyes, Cheng Qian’gong simply gazed at her, without much reaction, as if he wasn't kissing someone, but doing something extremely simple and trivial.
There was no affection. What surged was only an incomparably complex, dark color, as if something truly dreadful was deeply suppressed and restrained, stirring restlessly.
This kind of look…
This kind of look…
It was exactly the same as the evil, dark gaze from the deepest part of her memory, as obscure and thick as unresolvable ink.
Even when concealed with such perfunctory emotions, it couldn't hide that chilling possessiveness.
Shen Yue's face turned slightly pale. The emotions she had suppressed for a long time surged forth at this moment. Holding her breath, she tried to steady her increasingly rapid breaths.
But it was no use.
She averted her head, evading the man's kiss. Her stomach churned with a desire to vomit. The intense nausea made her face even more pale and sickly.
She thought she would gradually forget that dark, terrifying memory from her childhood, but that fear was etched into her bones, festering and rotting with her very being.
She couldn't forget it, absolutely couldn't forget it.
Even though those people were dead, she still couldn't forget.
Cheng Qian’gong, pushed away, stared expressionlessly for a moment, his gaze deepening. He raised a finger, pinching Shen Yue's jaw like iron tongs, forcing her teeth apart.
Cheng Qian’gong lowered his eyelashes, his eyes a suffocating mass of dark, suppressed emotions.
“What are you dodging for?” Cheng Qian’gong’s tone turned cold. “Didn’t you say you wanted to toy with me?”
Shen Yue's pupils flickered with a brief moment of distraction. Her long, slender black lashes hung down quietly. A mole adorned her eye corner, casting a faint shadow beneath the exquisite, snow-white skin of her eyelids, trembling as if the fragile wings of a butterfly were fluttering.
Her full, vibrant red lips were bitten again and again, their color becoming even more alluringly lustrous.
“Don’t…”
“Don’t touch me…”
Just moments ago, she was smiling and actively seducing, and now she was feigning rejection.
Was this a game of playing hard to get?
A mocking sneer appeared on his handsome face. The strength in his fingers did not loosen, squeezing that fair, smooth skin until it seemed unable to bear the pressure, revealing vibrant marks.
“Cheng Qian’gong.” Her slender neck stretched, forming a breathtakingly beautiful curve. Her luxurious, husky voice carried a barely perceptible tremor.
Still resisting.
His heart burned with unnamable rage. Cheng Qian’gong paid no heed, even intensifying his actions to make Shen Yue fear him.
A fierce, savage biting, devoid of any gentleness, as if it were not a kiss but a form of release.
His breathing, in the dimly lit carriage, sounded like strange syllables emanating from the throat of a wild beast.
His palm pressed down on her snow-white nape, exerting force. Shen Yue, completely under his control, shivered. Her thick eyelashes were wet with tears, clumped together. The corners of her eyes were flushed red, a sickly beauty.
When he finally let go, looking at Shen Yue’s swollen, broken lips, he gradually felt the restlessness in his heart subside a little, and he somewhat recovered from the fierce, uncontrolled lust.
Shen Yue’s skin was very pale, a sickly pallor, like a patch of snow on a barren branch.
Her dark collar was roughly torn open, revealing a long, snow-white neck. It was now marred with patches of blue and purple, embedded in her flesh, looking somewhat shocking.
He suppressed the inexplicable panic and tension in his heart, carried Shen Yue to the sofa, and carefully, meticulously, straightened her clothes, covering all the marks one by one.
Shen Yue passively allowed him to arrange her, her expression lost and innocent. Beneath her thin skin, fragile, beautiful blue veins were visible.
Cheng Qian’gong’s fingertips accidentally brushed against the skin bearing those marks. His heart pounded like a drum, his blood boiling.
It felt as if an invisible thread had bound the two of them together, entangling them, trapping them in a messy swamp.
He could no longer extricate himself.
He could only be locked in an inescapable entanglement with Shen Yue.
Cheng Qian’gong clenched his fist tightly, his nails digging into his palm.
The rain had stopped. The air was filled with a damp, fresh scent. The earthy,腥味 dispersed. A gentle breeze carried a refreshing coolness.
The lush branches and leaves swayed in the wind. Tiny raindrops fell from the trees, rustling softly.
—
Shen Yaojin’s foolishness had ended.
This news spread throughout the palace. The young, foolish Seventh Prince had a blessing in disguise. He suffered severe injuries, had a high fever, and upon waking, his mind was miraculously healed.
The Emperor personally went to visit him. He spent a long time in the Seventh Prince's palace. It was said they chatted very happily. Shortly after the Emperor left, a large number of gifts were carried into the palace one after another.
He seemed to have greatly pleased the Emperor.
At this moment, undercurrents stirred within the palace. The Seventh Prince was no longer the former Seventh Prince. No one dared to slight him anymore. His food, clothing, and daily necessities were all meticulously prepared.
The dark night was lit by numerous lamps. The candlelight in the sleeping chambers danced, its warm yellow light adding a touch of warmth to the cold night, like a magnificent pavilion floating in the air.
Shen Yue sat on a soft couch, playing with a turtle using a brush. The turtle’s shell was hard, so she used the brush to scratch its hands and feet.
The turtle stubbornly crawled, but after a long while, it still hadn't crawled out of Shen Yue’s line of sight.
The cool wind blowing through the window rustled the gauze curtains with a swishing sound. Soon, the window was closed. Fu An handed Shen Yue a thin robe to wear, gently instructing, “Your Highness, it is cool at night. Be careful not to catch a cold.”
Her fair, soft fingertips touched the turtle’s hard shell. Shen Yue lowered her eyes, her lashes covered in a layer of golden light. Her jawline was snow-white, her lips pure and vibrant red. As if by chance, she asked.
“Old Seven has recovered. Do you think he will resent me?”
Resent her for abandoning him alone, leaving him to face the dangerous wolves by himself, nearly losing his life.
If he were still that fool, he probably wouldn't mind. Once his injuries healed, he would surely come running back, sweetly calling her Fourth Brother.
But now, Shen Yaojin had recovered some time ago, and he hadn't come to find her yet, so she assumed he must resent her.
Fu An merely held her somewhat cold hand, raised his face. His fair, clear features, illuminated by the warm yellow candlelight, were gentle and smiling.
“Whether he resents you or not is unimportant. We won't think about unhappy things.”
He wanted His Highness to be happy.
Nothing else mattered.
Shen Yaojin mattered even less. Fu An even felt that the Seventh Prince was a troublemaker. He had unknowingly and presumptuously intruded into His Highness’s heart, leaving a mark, and then understood nothing.
And when His Highness cared about someone, his hard heart became extremely tender.
This way, he was easily hurt.