Chapter Twenty-Four: She Knows How to Play with Excitement Now
Shen Yanlie lowered his head to look at her. She was just as she had been that night in Venice—her skin pure and luminous, long lashes curling upward, quivering slightly under the haze of drink. The night breeze slipped through the window, stirring the curtains and lifting her dark hair, so that silken strands brushed softly across his nose. He was intoxicated; even without wine tonight, he was drunk.
At that moment, Mai Xijun’s cheeks were flushed, her full lips tinted a deep crimson by the strength of the alcohol, like cherries on the verge of ripening, lush and irresistible. He could not help himself. His lips found hers, his tongue fiercely invading, capturing her jaw and brushing over her most sensitive places, beginning a possessive assault. Their breaths grew heavy, mingling in the fever of desire.
His large hands restlessly traced the smooth line of her back, sliding down to her waist. With deft fingers, he unfastened her bra, baring her pale skin to his hungry mouth as he bit down, leaving marks behind.
A faint, intoxicating scent of her body mingled with the fiery vapor of whiskey, igniting a blaze that clouded his vision.
[Three hundred words omitted for the sake of propriety…]
A primal, splitting pain pierced to the bone. He had not forgotten that this was only the second time she had crossed from girlhood into womanhood.
For six years, aside from a few regular companions, there had been the occasional virgin among the women in his life, but those relationships were always transactional. When he learned in Venice that the woman who had rescued him was untouched, he had not felt much surprise—just a fleeting moment of astonishment.
Yet when he saw her photograph, something deep within him wavered, as if a stone in his heart had been disturbed, a restless cat clawing at him, mingling resistance with a longing that nearly undid him…
No matter the man—fastidious or otherwise—when the moment comes, if the woman means nothing to him, he would not care. But if she is someone he wants to possess entirely, then surely, a part of him would mind.
Perhaps, in some unspoken part of themselves, most men harbor a fascination with purity. Whether or not they truly care, they surely hope their woman is untouched.
And Shen Yanlie? Not a saint, nor seeking immortality—he was no exception.
[Another three hundred words omitted for the sake of propriety…]
* * *
The next morning, Mai Xijun was awakened by the harsh sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her head was pounding, her bones aching as if scattered and reassembled, waves of soreness washing over her.
She glanced around, grabbing the watch left on the table to check the time—ten forty-three?
What? Ten forty-three? Shocked, she exclaimed aloud, hastily throwing back the covers, only to realize she wasn’t in her own home. The events of the previous night came rushing back—everything had truly happened. There was not a stitch of clothing on her body.
Her clothes lay scattered haphazardly on the sofa. As she wrapped herself in the blanket, preparing to get out of bed, she suddenly noticed a neatly folded set of clean clothes placed at the far end of the mattress.
Did that man leave these? Hesitating, Mai Xijun snatched up the clothes and slipped them on with guilty haste. To her surprise, they fit perfectly, just like the evening gown from before—both tailored precisely for her.
After searching the room for her belongings, she made a hurried escape.
By the time she awoke, the man was already gone? Had she become so bold? To have reached such an intimate point with a man she had met only once before!
* * *
Watching the tall figure of the woman disappear from his line of sight, Yu Wensi frowned, lost in thought, before turning back into the villa.
Standing before a certain disheveled room on the second floor, Yu Wensi seemed to sense something in the air. A knowing smile crept across his lips before he turned and descended the stairs.