“Did you miss me?”
The man’s breathing was heavy, his voice hoarse and low.
He was bare-chested, broad-backed with taut lines, his facial features as if sketched in charcoal—cold, sharp, and handsome.
The arm wrapped around the girl’s waist bulged with veins, faintly radiating vigorous strength.
Wen Shiqing whimpered without answering, soft, kitten-like sounds slipping from her throat.
Xie Yucheng tilted his head to suck and nibble at her delicate ear, his scorching palm gently stroking her waist. His deep, mellow voice, laced with hot breath, brushed against Shiqing’s ear:
“Say you missed me, and I’ll let you go.”
The girl’s skin was pale and smooth, her waist slim as a willow branch. Her long hair cascaded like a waterfall over her shoulders, and her exquisite curves were clearly outlined beneath a thin nightdress.
The room was steeped in her sweet fragrance, warm and fragrant throughout.
They were pressed close together—one hard as steel, the other soft as tender tofu.
Her earlobes were sensitive; after only a few touches, she couldn’t hold on anymore and went limp in his arms.
Wen Shiqing let out a soft sob, her beautiful eyes squeezing out two wet tears.
“I… missed you…” Her voice was delicate, the ending trembling.
Xie Yucheng chuckled, tightening his arms and pressing her hard against himself. He lowered his head to lick away her tears, his throat hoarse with heat.
“I lied to you.”
His thin lips crushed fiercely against hers, prying open her teeth and plunging inside. His domineering kiss stole all the air from her lungs.
Clear, intimate sounds of sucking echoed in her ears. The girl flushed red with shame and anger, her heart quivering.
The kiss slid from her chin down to her fair, slender neck. The strong masculine scent coiled around Wen Shiqing’s throat as his teeth lightly nipped and bit—wherever he went, it was like wildfire spreading.
The next second, Wen Shiqing was suddenly lifted into the air and thrown onto the bed.
She reacted quickly, trying to crawl toward the edge, but her pale ankle was abruptly caught, and she was dragged back in front of him.
Unable to bear it any longer, he lowered his head and kissed her small mouth.
Her long neck, delicate collarbones, fair shoulders—none were spared…
He tasted her sweetness almost roughly.
After a long while, Shiqing was kissed until her limbs went weak, her expression dazed. She pressed her hands against his chest and pleaded softly:
“Don’t… please… today really isn’t okay…”
Suppressing his rapid breathing, Xie Yucheng stopped, caging her within his territory.
“Kiss me first, and I’ll let you go.”
She frowned, pouting, her soft little fist tapping his shoulder. “You’re lying again.”
“I’m not. Really.” His brows and eyes were dark and deep; the corners of his lips lifted slightly. He looked very serious.
Shiqing blinked her long lashes, paused for two seconds, then closed her eyes and tilted her face up to brush her lips lightly against his. Her lashes trembled, her skin pink-white like fine jade.
Xie Yucheng’s throat tightened; it felt as if all the blood in his body was boiling. He suddenly grabbed her by the neck and kissed her deeply, aggressively invading her red lips.
In the darkness, Wen Shiqing heard the click of a belt.
The man’s voice was rough and hoarse, his low, curling breaths falling by her ear:
“So proactive—how could I possibly let you go?”
A few months earlier.
Jicheng, Transport Department of a state-owned factory.
Xie Yucheng, dressed in black from head to toe, slung a black duffel bag over one shoulder. A Marlboro cigarette—unlit—hung from his lips as he strolled out of Manager Zhang’s office in the transport department. Turning right down the corridor, he headed straight for the finance office.
“Reimbursement!” He leaned lazily against the doorway, knocked twice, and wore a casual grin that carried a roguish handsomeness.
“Oh? Young Master Xie is back from a run?” Sister Zhang, the office supervisor, teased.
Sister Lan, the accountant in charge of drivers’ reimbursements, smiled and nodded toward him. “The forms are there. Fill them out first.”
Xie Yucheng tucked the cigarette behind his ear, strode inside, and dropped into an empty seat with a broad, unrestrained motion. He laughed lightly. “No rush.”
His voice was low and magnetic, like a magnet humming with faint electric current—listening to it made one’s heart tingle.
To his left sat a young girl, a new intern in the finance department.
Clearly seeing him for the first time, she kept sneaking glances at him out of the corner of her eye and couldn’t help blushing.
The man’s profile was sharply defined. His lashes hung low, brow bones high, nose bridge straight, features deep and sculpted, with a prominent Adam’s apple.
When he occasionally turned his head, his sharp, rakish eyes came into view. When he smiled, the corners of his lips lifted faintly, his dark eyes deep and captivating.
Xie Yucheng unzipped his black bag, took out a beautifully packaged bar of soap labeled in Russian, and handed it to Sister Zhang across from him.
“Here. I remember you mentioned this brand last time. Brought it specially for you.”
Sister Zhang’s eyes lit up. She quickly took it, the rich fragrance seeping through the wrapping into her nose. She smiled so broadly she couldn’t close her mouth.
“Oh my, you’re so thoughtful~ How much was it?”
Xie Yucheng smiled roguishly and waved his hand. “Talking money hurts feelings.”
He then pulled out a copy of Industrial Accounting and placed it on Sister Lan’s desk.
“Sister Lan, the book you wanted—I had a friend help me find it. Is this the one?”
Sister Lan put down her pen, surprise spilling into her eyes. She picked up the book and examined it from all sides.
“Yucheng, how are you so capable? This book isn’t even sold on the market anymore.”
Xie Yucheng lifted the tail of his brow. “As long as it’s the right one.”
Warmth welled up in Sister Lan’s heart as she stroked the book fondly.
Then the man took out a few pieces of chocolate candy and handed them to the new girl next door, a flippant smile on his lips.
“Imported from Germany. Try some.”
The girl’s face instantly flushed to the tips of her ears. She softly said, “Thank you.”
He sprawled at the desk and got down to business, pulling a stack of receipts from his pocket and lowering his head to fill out the reimbursement forms one by one.
His handwriting was bold and forceful—every stroke sharp and unrestrained, just like the man himself.
Xie Yucheng was a formally registered truck driver in the transport department of the state-owned factory. The job had been arranged by his father, Xie Guoli.
Xie Guoli had once been a long-haul driver here himself. Back then, Xie Yucheng had just graduated from high school and spent his days roaming the city with a group of brothers. That year, Xie Guoli happened to break his leg in a work accident and could no longer drive, leaving him permanently disabled. The factory paid compensation and arranged early retirement for him. Before leaving, Xie Guoli had his son take over his position.
When wages were low, it was a little over a hundred yuan; when high, nearly two hundred. In an era when the average salary was only thirty or forty yuan, this was an enviable job—a classic “iron rice bowl.”
But Xie Yucheng wasn’t satisfied.
From the finance office window, he could see the Yellow River JN162 truck parked in the factory yard—imposing and tall, with a ten-ton load capacity. It had accompanied him on the road for over a month and was now being serviced by colleagues from another department.
No matter how warm the steering wheel felt, it was still a company truck.
Driving a company vehicle, enduring wind and meals on the road for a month, he could only earn a bit over a hundred yuan at best.
But if he had a truck of his own, it would be different. Independent truck drivers were the real deal—earning several hundred to over a thousand a month. Xie Yucheng dreamed of owning his own truck.
This long-haul run had taken nearly a month. With food, lodging, fuel, and all sorts of expenses to reimburse, there was a lot to fill out. By the time he finished, it was almost time to get off work.
He handed the forms to Sister Zhang. She flipped through them briefly—same as always, every expense reasonable and compliant, written clearly and carefully.
Although the Xie family’s boy looked unruly on the surface, he was meticulous and reliable in his work. Unlike other drivers, he never skimmed from the factory—he wouldn’t accept even a cent less, nor take a cent more. He had principles.
Sister Zhang didn’t bother scrutinizing further and signed her name with a flourish.
Xie Yucheng then passed the signed forms to Sister Lan. Officially, work ended at 5:30 p.m., but from 5:00 onward, Sister Lan never handled work matters—no one would get reimbursed then.
The hands of the Seagull silver watch on Xie Yucheng’s wrist pointed to 5:28.
With the stack of receipts beside her, Sister Lan had no suspicions. She glanced at the total amount, took cash from the safe, counted it, and reimbursed Xie Yucheng on the spot.
“Thanks.” He stuffed the money into his pocket.
Sister Lan smiled as she picked up her bag to leave. “Don’t mention it.”
Under the factory’s parking shed, Xie Yucheng yanked off the tarp covering his motorcycle. Dust swirled into the air. It was a red Xingfu XF250—bought not long ago, ridden only a few times, still brand-new and cool.
Swinging his long leg over, he mounted the bike and roared out of the factory grounds.
The wind whipped his jacket loudly. Like a black panther brimming with wildness, he sped past old factory buildings and through residential tube-style apartments. His perfect profile made girls along the roadside turn their heads.
The Xie family lived in an alley in the north of the city. Each household there had its own courtyard. Though the location was somewhat remote, it was far better than the crowded tube apartments in the city center.
Wen Shiqing sat in the doorway basking in the sun, holding a little chick in her arms. Her mother, Yang Ying, was chatting with a few neighborhood aunties beneath a big locust tree at the east end of the alley. Her stepfather, Xie Guoli, was inside reading the newspaper.
Suddenly, several short, loud motorcycle horn blasts rang out, followed by boisterous laughter from the women at the alley entrance.
“Oh! The handsome guy’s back!”
“Yucheng, got a girlfriend yet? You’re not getting any younger—Auntie can introduce one…”
Hearing the commotion, Wen Shiqing jumped up, clutching the chick and taking a few steps forward, craning her neck to look—
A familiar handsome face burst into view.
The man had a cigarette slanted in his mouth, lips curved in a grin, long narrow eyes wild and unrestrained as he tilted his head and bantered with the women.
“What, Sixth Aunt, you missed me?”
“Girlfriend? What’s that? I’m still underage—why are you telling me this?”
Wen Shiqing stood awkwardly at the doorway. Her light yellow dress made her look like a pure little daisy. Her glossy black hair was braided into two plaits, her skin so pale it looked translucent, fine veins faintly visible—fragile as if she might shatter at a touch.
One hand clenched the hem of her dress tightly, her heart pounding violently.
He hadn’t been home for a full twenty-seven days.
When the motorcycle stopped steadily in front of her, Wen Shiqing’s curled lashes trembled. She called out timidly, “Brother.”
Her soft voice brushed Xie Yucheng’s ear like a feather.
The man planted his long leg on the ground, the cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth. White smoke puffed toward her as he casually raised a brow, his eyes full of teasing as he stared at her.
The girl in front of him truly was his stepmother’s biological daughter. Those similar brows and eyes—just seeing them was irritating.
He noticed the little chick in her arms—soft yellow down, timid eyes, tiny beak. It looked rather like her.
Xie Yucheng tipped his chin, his lazy, low voice drifting in the air.
“What, did you give birth to it?”
Wen Shiqing’s face instantly flushed red. She shook her head hurriedly.
“No, brother, not me—it was Ali.”
Ali? The hen she’d raised for over two years. Fed diligently every day, medicated when sick, the coop cleaned cleaner than her own room—she treated that hen like a treasure.
Xie Yucheng’s mouth twitched. She was explaining it so earnestly.
Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly sensed a sharp gaze from behind. He pressed his tongue against his back teeth and let out a disdainful snort, then crooked a finger at the girl.
“Come here.” A commanding tone.
Wen Shiqing obediently stepped forward, closer to him.
The man’s large hand suddenly pressed against the back of her neck as he leaned down toward her ear. They were so close he could see the fine downy hairs on her skin.
The slightly bitter scent of tobacco, mixed with the crisp, winter-forest-like scent of the man, enveloped Wen Shiqing completely—an overwhelming sense of pressure.
Her breathing stalled; she didn’t dare move.
His warm breath brushed her ear. Her earlobe visibly reddened.
Catching sight of approaching footsteps behind her, Xie Yucheng glanced at her coldly and said harshly:
“You’re just like your mother—not a single good one. Stop pretending to be some innocent little white rabbit.”
The posture was intimate and ambiguous, yet the words were like invisible knives, stabbing inch by inch into Wen Shiqing’s heart. The slight curve at the corner of her lips froze.
She was used to it.
Over the years, his vicious words had already flayed her a thousand times.
“Nannan!” Yang Ying stepped forward and pulled her daughter away, forcing a smile as she said to Xie Yucheng, “Go inside. Your dad’s been talking about you for days.”
She couldn’t stand this stepson. Eight years ago, when she’d just married Xie Guoli, Xie Yucheng had already shown his dislike and resistance toward her.
He didn’t like her, and she didn’t like him either. As her daughter grew older, she became even more vigilant about keeping the two apart.
Xie Yucheng knew exactly what she was thinking. He shot her a sideways glance, treated her like air, and ignored her. Propping the motorcycle against the wall, he slung the black bag over his shoulder and strode into the house.
“Nannan, what did he say to you just now?” Yang Ying pulled her daughter aside.
Yang Ying was from Suzhou, her speech tinged with the soft, lilting Wu dialect—gentle and graceful. Wen Shiqing had inherited her tone.
She was ten years younger than Xie Guoli, youthful and pretty, fashionably dressed, changing outfits daily. Her hair was permed in the then-popular “wave-stop” style, making her look gentle and alluring.
Aside from cooking three meals a day, she spent most of her time going out to have fun. Xie Guoli rarely interfered, as long as the house was kept in order.
Wen Shiqing lowered her eyes, long lashes slightly curled, their arc beautiful.
“He didn’t say anything.”
“I’m telling you—don’t get too close to him, understand? Full of bad habits, nasty temper, stubborn as hell. No matter how good you are to him, it’s useless. A stone you can’t warm.”
“Mom, brother isn’t the kind of person you say he is.”
Seeing her daughter speak up for her stepson, Yang Ying poked her forehead with a finger, scolding in frustration.
‘Brother, brother—does he even treat you like a sister? Don’t embarrass yourself by throwing yourself at him.”
Wen Shiqing smacked her lips, stunned for a moment, then carried the chick into the courtyard.
She didn’t want to be his sister.
[New book is here, everyone! I’m a sincere author who will never pad chapters. This story is pseudo-incest—stepbrother and stepsister—with a long-awaited reunion. Many people asked why my previous book disappeared; those who read it can probably guess why. I wrote content that was seriously too explicit and got locked away. Only those who added it to their bookshelf can still see it. In short, I’m guilty as charged—the problematic parts couldn’t be fixed no matter how much I revised, so I gave up. Starting over with a new book!! Fighting on again. So please, please add this book to your bookshelf first!!!! I can’t guarantee I won’t make the same mistakes again. As the saying goes, a dog can’t stop eating shit—asking someone whose mind is full of indecent thoughts to write pure, clean content is a bit hard. I promise to “favor readers” as much as possible while trying to follow platform rules!! To avoid losing access later, be sure to add it to your bookshelf—add it—add it—add it…