Chu Wusu pulled her into a dark alley, pinned her against the wall, lifted her chin, and bent down to kiss her.
His kiss was far steadier than the first time—he first captured her soft lips, kissing away every trace of lingering sugar, bit by bit. Only when she grew faintly dazed did he unhurriedly pry open the gap and slip inside.
That soft warmth, tangled up by him with nowhere to flee, could only whimper as he traced and plundered her over and over—like bullying, and like tenderness all at once.
Bai Ruoyao waited in place for a long while. Chu Wusu was slow to return, and Ji Shu had vanished as well. Unease gradually crept into her heart, and she set off in the direction he had gone.
The streets were crowded with people. She stood on tiptoe, scanning about, when suddenly she spotted a familiar silhouette—with a woman at his side. Her heart lurched, and she quietly followed.
The alley grew deeper and deeper, dim, crisscrossing forks branching everywhere. In the blink of an eye, the two figures melted into the night, impossible to find again.
Her anxiety mounted.
Was that person really Wusu? If so, the woman beside him… could it be Ji Shu?
She bit her lip, not daring to think any further, and only managed to call out, a faint, barely perceptible tremor hidden in her voice:
“Wusu? Are you in there?”
Ji Shu’s eyes had gone hazy from Chu Wusu’s kisses, a flush of red blooming at the corners of her eyes. Taking advantage of a gap to catch her breath, she murmured weakly against his chest.
“Young Master, don’t… Miss Bai is looking for you…”
But even as she said it, a trace of the tenderness he had just been doting on peeked out faintly with each breath—pink and inviting, like a piece of candy she couldn’t bear to hide away.
Chu Wusu was in the thick of it—how could he let her escape?
“Ignore her.”
He raised a hand to that lip still glistening with moisture, his fingertip pressing lightly on the center of her lips, his gaze dark and heavy as it bore down.
“Open.”
His commanding tone made her go even weaker, as if all the bones had been drawn from her body—she could only lean into his chest to keep from sliding down.
Through lowered lashes, she feigned hesitation, pressing her lips together—while his tightening arm locked firmly around her waist. The grip wasn’t heavy, but the warning in it was unmistakable.
Only then, as if reluctantly, did she slowly part her lips…
Bai Ruoyao stood at the mouth of the alley, a single wall away. Faint, intimate little sounds drifted to her ears, mingled with the sweet, soft whimpers of a woman bullied past her limit, leaking out beyond her control.
Even though she had never been kissed before, she knew exactly what those sounds were.
How shameless. She sneered coldly to herself—to cling to a man so desperately in an alley where anyone might walk by at any moment, how starved could she be?
She curled her lip in contempt and turned away in another direction.
It couldn’t be Wusu.
She told herself this. In truth, a thought had not failed to flash through her mind—could that entangled pair be Chu Wusu and Ji Shu? But the moment it surfaced, she crushed it back down.
She didn’t dare think it.
Nor did she dare take another step in that direction.
After returning that day, Chu Wusu seemed to have shed some shackle and let himself go completely—whenever he caught Ji Shu, he kissed her whenever he pleased.
Of course, she tried to resist.
But the more she resisted, the fiercer his bullying grew—pinching her waist and refusing to let go, kissing her until she could barely breathe, her eyes rimmed red, before he would finally relent.
After a few repetitions, she had learned her lesson. Now, the moment his arm swept around her waist, she would be like a tamed little bird, obediently tilting her face up, parting her lips, and meeting him halfway.
As Ji Shu was once again pressed onto the bed, enduring his forceful kiss, Bai Ruoyao sat alone downstairs eating her meal.
A table full of dishes, warmed and cooled again and again, yet she had barely touched her chopsticks.
It had been days since she’d had a proper word with Chu Wusu. Every time she started to speak, he would frown, the impatience between his brows growing thicker, like frost that refused to melt.
She could feel it—the last thread of patience in the way he looked at her was thinning day by day.
It was all Ji Shu’s fault.
Before she came, everything had been fine.
Back then, Chu Wusu would wait for her to eat together, would listen to her patiently, would even, on occasion, curl the corner of his mouth into a smile.
But now, it was all ruined.
Bai Ruoyao’s fingers clutched her teacup so hard her fingertips turned white. The dishes still gave off their last traces of warmth, but eating felt like chewing wax—she had no appetite at all.
“Bang—”
The inn’s front door was kicked open, and the guests at several tables fell silent at once. A group of men with large blades hanging from their waists strode in, swaggering as if they owned the place.
The man at their head was decent-looking enough, but arrogance was written all over his features, and he radiated the air of someone not to be trifled with.
“Shopkeeper.” He walked straight up to the counter and rapped his knuckles impatiently on the tabletop. “Where are the best rooms you set aside for us? Lead the way.”
A thin sheen of sweat broke out on the shopkeeper’s forehead. His eyes darted about, his lips trembling again and again before he finally squeezed out a few words: “Young—Young Hero Li… I… I…”
This man was Li Chang, young master of the Overlord Blade Sect. As for talent, he was mediocre, but he was the only son of the family, pampered and spoiled from childhood, and his temperament had grown utterly lawless.
Because of the Overlord Blade Sect’s power, everyone in the jianghu gave way to him. At this moment, the shopkeeper wished he had two extra legs to run away on.
Bai Ruoyao sat in the corner, her eyes glinting slightly.
She set down her teacup, rose, and walked over at a leisurely pace.
“Could you be Young Hero Li Chang of the Overlord Blade Sect?”
Li Chang turned to look. Seeing that it was a fairly pretty woman, he looked her up and down. “Who are you?”
“My name is Bai Ruoyao. You may not have heard of me, Young Hero, but I have long admired your great name. I once heard that you, single-handedly—”
“Say what you have to say and stop dawdling.” Li Chang waved a hand impatiently.
He had no interest whatsoever in this bland, watered-down sort of woman—he preferred the curvaceous type. He couldn’t be bothered to hear even half a sentence more from this one.
Bai Ruoyao’s smile stiffened.
This damned good-for-nothing!
“Hehe, Young Hero Li, I came over to apologize on someone’s behalf.”
“Apologize? For what?” Li Chang was baffled, and grew even more impatient with this woman still playing riddles.
“It’s like this. My… companion Ji Shu coerced the shopkeeper and stole the two best rooms you had reserved.” Seeing that his patience was nearly spent, Bai Ruoyao hurriedly quickened her pace, not forgetting to clear herself as well. “I strongly tried to stop her at the time, but she paid no mind at all. I didn’t want to be party to it, so I took a lowly room for myself.”
There was a knife hidden in her words, malice churning in her heart, as she hoped Li Chang would give that vixen Ji Shu a proper lesson.
“What?” Li Chang narrowed his eyes. He didn’t care whether she was staying in a fine room or a shabby one—he had only caught one meaning: someone dared to take what was his.
He grabbed the innkeeper by the collar, nearly lifting the man off the ground: “Is what this woman said true?”
The innkeeper’s face turned red from being choked, and he nodded tremblingly. It wasn’t entirely his fault—that girl had clearly said earlier that if anyone from the Overlord Blade Sect came, they should come find her…
Li Chang’s temper flared up in an instant. In all these years, he had never seen anyone so eager to dig their own grave!
He shoved the innkeeper away viciously and, with a grand sweep of his hand, bellowed at the crowd at the door:
“Let’s go! Let’s see which fool is so tired of living that they dare to steal from me!”
“Well now, not much skill, but quite the temper—”