Xicheng District, Zui Ling Long.
Wen Yirong carried the drink tray into the dimly lit VIP booth and set the astronomically expensive bottles of liquor on the table.
Her rose-red lips curved into a subtle, joyful smile. With the commission from opening these bottles, she would finally have enough money saved for the surgery fees.
Little did she know, she had already walked right into a cage.
The door clicked shut behind her, followed by the faint sound of slow, deliberate footsteps.
“Sir, here is the liquor you ordered…”
She turned around and looked up, only to be swallowed by a towering shadow.
The flickering neon lights cast sharp angles across a face so flawless it looked sculpted by a blade, but the man’s eyes were brimming with pure hatred.
In an instant, the air in the room seemed to freeze.
“Don’t remember me?”
Shen Sichen sneered, his deep voice sounding as cold as frost.
Yirong’s mind went completely blank. Shock flared in her eyes as a chilling dread crept straight up her spine.
“B-Brother…” Her voice trembled as she forced the words out.
Even after five years apart, a single glance was all it took for her to recognize him. Yet, Shen Sichen was no longer the warm, refined, perpetually gentle youth she once knew.
The man standing before her now was tall and impeccably built, dressed in a tailored dark suit. His facial features were sharp and cold, his brow shrouded in gloom and cruelty, and every inch of him radiated a terrifying, intimidating aura.
A look of disgust and contempt flashed across Sichen’s eyes. A mocking laugh slipped through his clenched teeth. “Who’s your brother? You were nothing more than a stray dog taken in by the Shen family. Did treating you well for a few years make you actually think you were human?”
The words struck like a slap across the face, instantly shattering Yirong into pieces.
It felt as though a hole had been torn straight through her chest, leaving her throat so dry she couldn’t make a sound.
Sichen sat down across from her and pulled out his phone. “Officer Li, I found a fugitive inside Zui Ling Long on Jinxi Road.”
Horrified, Yirong’s pupils shrank, all color draining from her face. “I’m not a fugitive!”
“Brother!” She dropped straight to her knees and grabbed his trousers. “Please, don’t call the police!”
“I’m begging you… I didn’t do anything! Brother, I’ll never run away again, I swear!”
Tears spilled from her eyes like broken strings of pearls. She looked like a child who had done something horribly wrong, sobbing and whimpering repeatedly, “Please… I beg you…”
“Brother, don’t call the police. Name your terms I’ll agree to anything, just please…”
Sichen looked down at her. His gaze cut like a razor-sharp blade against the trembling figure at his feet, and the fierce hatred in his heart tightened his jawline.
“Anything?”
“Yes!” Yirong nodded without a second’s hesitation.
He put his phone away and issued a cold, stern order. “Take off your clothes.”
The woman kneeling on the floor froze, looking up at him in utter disbelief. She traced the hard, sharp contours of his face with her eyes, her lips trembling as if trying to utter another plea for mercy.
Sichen frowned slightly, his voice laced with impatient threat. “Don’t test my patience. Hesitation isn’t a wise choice.”
The light in Yirong’s eyes dimmed completely. Her body shuddered as she reached up, grabbed the zipper of her outfit, and slowly dragged it down.
As her work uniform fell away, it revealed a thin camisole underneath and a wide expanse of fair, delicate skin. The soft, elegant curves of her body were laid bare. An unnatural blush crept onto her cheeks, slowly spreading all the way to her ears.
Sichen lifted his eyelids, looking down at her from above. A deep, dark heat flickered beneath his gaze. “Keep going.”
Only when Yirong had stripped away every last piece of clothing did he lazily pat his thigh. “Sit up here.”
Her expression flickered with a moment of internal struggle, but in the end, she obediently climbed onto his lap.
Sitting so close, their breaths intertwined. Even perched on his lap, she seemed impossibly delicate before him.
Yirong pressed her hands against his chest. Beneath her palms was a burning body heat and the strong, rhythmic thump of his heart.
She used to cling to him and act spoiled all the time, begging for hugs, but this felt entirely different from anything in the past heavy with an unmistakable sexual tension.
“Brother…” she whimpered softly, not daring to meet his eyes. Her gaze stayed fixed on his refined throat as his neck muscles shifted. “Will you please spare me?”
Sichen grabbed her chin, forcing her face up to meet his. “Spare you? After what you did, you’re asking me how I could possibly spare you?”
Yirong tried to explain, but her frantic sobs made it impossible to string a proper sentence together. “Brother… I really… I really didn’t do anything…”
“Wen Yirong, stop treating me like the gullible fool who used to fall for your lies.”
He cut her off ruthlessly, his low voice suppressed with rage.
She could do nothing but close her mouth and sob, looking back at him with a mixture of grief and deep grievance.
As Sichen stared down at her, a chaotic storm of emotions churned within his eyes. A scalding teardrop fell from her face and splashed onto the back of his hand, searing right through to his cold heart.
Complex feelings tangled inside him like a cluster of thorny vines, tightening around his chest. He gritted his teeth, desperate to regain control over the chaos raging inside him.
Then, a sudden wave of primal desire snapped his remaining sanity.
Sliding his fingers through her hair, he cupped the back of her head and slammed his cold, thin lips down onto hers.
He kissed her with brutal authority, using the kiss as an outlet for his pent-up rage, rubbing and biting down on her lips with desperate, raw force.
Yirong gasped in shock, her heart thumping frantically like a beaten drum. Her senses were flooded with his clean, crisp scent.
A shadow of sorrow flickered through her tear-filled eyes. She had imagined their first kiss countless times, dreaming of how romantic it would be never could she have anticipated that when the moment finally came, it would be consumed by hatred and revenge.
His large hand traced down the curve of her neck, coming to a stop just above her heart. Beneath his fingertips lay a thin, slightly raised scar—a remnant from a surgery she had undergone as a child.
Sichen froze. Slowly lifting his head, his bloodshot eyes locked onto the scar, his gaze gradually turning unhinged.
Breathing heavily, his voice rasped out, “Was the Shen family not good to you?”
“We took you in, found the best doctors to treat your illness, sent you to school, and pampered you like a princess… Where did we ever wrong you?”
Yirong sobbed, her face painted with guilt. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Brother…”
Back then, she had been terrified out of her wits. Before she could even process what was happening, she had been shoved into a car and forced onto the run.
Sichen’s face hardened. With a swift turn, he pinned her between his body and the back of the sofa. His hands roamed restlessly over her slender, supple waist as his body heat surged, the flush of their bare skin igniting a fierce sensation between them.
He stared intently at her flushed, tear-stained face. The glisten of tears in her eyes acted like fuel to the fire, filling his heart with an aching, overwhelming urge—an urgent need to completely possess her, to push her until she wept and begged for mercy.
His fiery kiss invaded her lips once more, completely stripping away the last remnants of her focus, dragging her down into the abyss along with him.
Yirong’s fingers clutched tightly at Sichen’s shirt, crumpling the fabric. The open collar revealed his broad, toned chest, while her glistening eyes swam with sheer daze and surrender.