The kiss didn’t last long.
Song Man kept resisting, even biting his lip.
Song Junyan pulled back, wiping the blood with his fingertip.
“Getting bold now?”
Song Man curled up in the corner of the car, stubbornly holding her ground. “You’re the one acting like a hooligan. I was just defending myself.”
Song Junyan let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve pulled that kind of thing on you plenty of times before. Never saw you react like this.”
“That was then. This is now.”
Song Man sat up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
Her lips were shapely—full and plump—and the motion made them look even more vivid and striking, almost decadently sensual.
Song Junyan stared at her for a long moment, then looked away. But an image from earlier at the school gate surfaced unbidden in his mind.
What Ruan Wenhua had said yesterday also echoed in his ears at that moment: “Is Man’er seeing someone?”
Song Junyan narrowed his eyes, his tone heavy as a storm about to break. “What? Got a new flame?”
Song Man froze mid-motion, almost thinking she’d misheard.
He was the one with a fiancée, yet here he was, turning the tables and questioning whether she had someone new.
Song Man snapped, “None of your business.”
“So, you do have one?”
“None of your business.”
Song Man turned away, reaching for the door handle.
“Song Man!”
He rarely called her by her full name.
But lately, it had been frequent.
Once at the Song residence when she said she wanted to end things, and once at Aunt Zhang’s place.
And now this time.
Song Man froze, as if all her strength had drained away. Her hands fell limp.
She let him turn her back around.
“Really none of my business?”
Song Man kept her eyes down, silent.
The agitation in Song Junyan’s eyes receded somewhat. His gaze caught the strap of her dress slipping off her shoulder, and he reached out to hook it back up.
“Don’t wear anything this low-cut next time.”
Song Man blinked, then looked up to find his gaze traveling down, diving straight into the view beneath.
She quickly covered her chest. “Don’t you know the saying—’look not at what is improper’?”
Song Junyan raised an eyebrow. “I’m no gentleman. Why would I follow that rule?”
If certain people overheard that, they’d probably tear him apart to the bone.
Song Man couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him, her gaze inadvertently landing on the wound at the corner of his mouth.
She suddenly snapped back to reality.
She must have lost her mind—daring to bite him just now.
He was already surrounded by wolves and tigers. If those people got wind of the bleeding at his lip and made a big deal out of it…
A cascade of disasters flashed through her mind:
The Song family finding out, his reputation ruined and him being ousted, her being held accountable and blamed by everyone…
“You—what are you going to do about that?”
Song Junyan smiled. “Scared now?”
Song Man pressed her lips together.
Song Junyan said, “Answer my question from earlier, and I’ll tell you.”
Song Man thought for a moment, then said uncertainly, “New flame?”
She wasn’t sure if she’d answered correctly. She just watched as Song Junyan suddenly laughed, then reached into the front compartment and pulled out a box, handing it to her.
His fingers were long but not delicate, with distinct knuckles carrying strength—fitting his overall bearing: capable, sharp, ruggedly handsome.
Song Man took it. “What is this?”
The man said nothing, just raised an eyebrow, signaling her to open it herself.
Song Man lifted the lid.
Inside lay the very gown Shen Zhiyin had set her eyes on yesterday.
Song Junyan said, “This dress suits you.”
Song Man asked, “And what about Miss Shen?”
“She has a different one.”
She paused.
The sunlight shifted, slanting past the car. Her face was tucked in shadow, her expression unreadable.
Song Man tossed it back. “I don’t want it!”
“Don’t like it?”
Song Man frowned. “I don’t have a habit of picking up what others have discarded.”
Her words were barbed. Perhaps because she’d always been well-behaved, Song Junyan had the patience to coax her.
“She didn’t discard it. I had Aunt Zhang tell her the sizing couldn’t be altered.”
With that, he pulled her close, his hand gently stroking her.
Song Man pressed her lips together. “Even if you give it to me, it’s not like I can wear it out.”
She didn’t say yes, and she didn’t say no.
Song Junyan leaned in, catching her earlobe between his teeth. “I don’t plan on having you wear it out. It’s revealing—easy to take off. Locked in a room, wearing it just for me to see.”
A flash of a memory shot through Song Man’s mind—a time when she’d attended a banquet with Ruan Wenhua.
The same sweetheart neckline.
He’d cornered her in the restroom, thrusting into her hard.
Warning her never to wear such revealing clothes out again.
Song Man instinctively knew she couldn’t keep thinking about it, afraid of where her mind might wander.
She pushed him away.
Her eyes were round, not the seductive kind, but right now they shimmered with moisture, her face flushed. Just that one glance—words unspoken, meaning conveyed.
Song Junyan’s gaze darkened a shade. His fingers caught a strand of her hair, twirling it, playing with it.
“In a few days, your mother will want you back for a banquet. Find an excuse to refuse.”
Song Man was puzzled. “Why?”
Song Junyan didn’t hide it from her. “She wants to set you up with someone.”
That was just how their circle worked.
They claimed not to interfere with their children’s romantic freedom, but in the end, everyone was arranged by family into marriages of mutual benefit.
Song Junyan was no exception.
And neither was she.
Nothing in this world came free.
She should have lived a hard, lonely life, yet she’d enjoyed the height of luxury.
She knew full well that one day, she’d have to pay it back.
She just hadn’t expected that day to come so soon.
But just a while ago, when she’d attended a banquet with Ruan Wenhua, Ruan Wenhua had still been telling people that she was young and that she wanted her to stay by her side a while longer.
“How…?” Song Man suddenly thought of something. “Did Mother discover something?”
“Yes, and also no.”
Song Man’s heart was tossed up and down by his words. “What do you mean by that? What do you mean yes, and what do you mean no?”
Her expression was anxious, her small face turning pale.
Song Junyan couldn’t bear to tease her any longer and said truthfully, “She didn’t discover us. She just thought you were in a relationship.”
Song Man’s heart settled back into place, and she belatedly realized—
If Mother had truly discovered the two of them, she would have called her home, not gone through the trouble of arranging a matchmaker for her.
As she was lost in thought, Song Junyan waved over the driver who was smoking nearby to start the car.
Song Man immediately became alert.
“Where are we going?”
Amidst the roar of the car engine starting, Song Junyan turned his head with a wicked smile. “Eloping.”
Song Man’s heart gave a violent lurch.
“Am I supposed to just stand by and watch you meet a potential match without taking you away?”
The words were ambiguous, not quite a clear confession, yet sweet enough to be cloying.
But as Song Man listened, she felt as though her heart had been crumpled into a ball, roughly stuffed into a pool of sour water, beating violently.
A ringtone sounded.
She glanced over.
It was a call from Shen Zhiyin.
Song Man fell silent, then stuck her head out the window.
The warm breeze drifted gently, flowing softly past Song Junyan’s conversation.
“Mm.”
“School.”
“Right away.”
At those last two words, Song Man reacted sharply.
The rapid progression of their relationship.
Shen Zhiyin could even openly check up on him now.
Song Man’s heart ached with bitterness.
In the past, she had extravagantly wished for love.
When love was unattainable, she begged for just one more minute, one more second by his side.
Now, she could no longer stay, yet she still couldn’t bear to let go.
She remembered choosing this path, constantly reminding herself to stay rational.
But thinking about it now—
It was merely self-deception.
The moment she chose to love him, she had already leapt headfirst into the abyss, watching herself fall endlessly.
Would she only feel regret when she had truly become a traitor to morality and shattered into pieces?
The man pressed up against her from behind, his large hand resting on her leg with a subtle, ambiguous touch.
“The West District apartment was decorated according to your taste. Move some of your things over there. I’ll come by when I have time.”