Though Derek was gentle, she had no interest in him, even feeling bewildered at her own madness and a slight self-loathing.
She rejected this chaotic emotion and hated being careless with herself.
This wasn’t her.
She couldn’t accept that after divorce, she still unconsciously compared Zhuang Qiting to every man.
It felt like she was always walking under his dark cloud.
This frustrated her. She should embrace her new life, not keep sulking over Zhuang Qiting.
She realized even her confused decision to call a man tonight was a form of sulking.
She wanted to prove she could live well without him—in every way, there was no absolute need for him, neither money, body, nor feelings.
At that moment, the bedroom door opened.
She thought it was Derek.
“No sign of my housekeeper? He should be on the—”
She looked toward the door, unguarded, then met the man’s eyes—black enough to swallow everything whole.
She shivered all over, staring wide-eyed.
“Zhuang…”
“How did you get in here!?” Li Yaru panicked, her face flushing with guilt, heart pounding.
Zhuang Qiting raised his hand, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the floor with deliberate slowness, then loosened his tie as he walked toward her.
Li Yaru sat up with a tremble, pointing at him.
“You… what are you crazy for… go away!”
His expression was cold, but his tone was gentle.
“I go away, then let you bring in a duck? One isn’t enough, so you have your housekeeper come too? Two serving you at the same time? For such a young lady, you sure know how to enjoy yourself.”
Li Yaru had no idea what he was talking about.
Her bare face, washed clean of makeup, flushed red and pale.
She was forty-four years old— why did he keep treating her like she was young?
“Stop talking nonsense. Who wants two at the same time!”
She felt a wave of nausea, nearly gagging.
He looked terrifying— cold and violent at once.
Before he even approached, she felt a rush of feverish energy and that familiar, intense scent.
She felt as if she’d fallen into a winter fireplace, burning hot.
Zhuang Qiting stopped before her, towering over and scrutinizing her.
His gaze traveled from her face to her neck, then her smooth jade-like shoulders, finally down her chest and legs.
No marks.
His expression softened slightly.
Li Yaru felt weak under his naked, ruthless stare.
She covered herself.
“You dirty old pervert, who gave you permission to look around like that! You!”
Before she could finish, he grabbed her chin and bent down to kiss her.
She tilted her head up, overwhelmed by chaotic emotions.
Their lips tangled, water rippling as he kissed fiercely.
His teeth urgently nipped her lips.
Li Yaru moaned helplessly, cheeks flushed, warmth perfect, scent perfect, the fierce strength just right, the skillful touch, her heart pounding wildly— all composing a tension she couldn’t resist.
She couldn’t break free from this spell and allowed him to kiss her, sinking weakly into the sofa before he lifted her up again.
Zhuang Qiting’s chest rose and fell as he held the soft woman like cotton, his thumb stroking her cheek endlessly.
His heart felt like it was being twisted to pieces.
He spoke heavily: “Li Yaru, can you stop making things difficult for me? Are you trying to kill me, to die in front of me? Would that make you happy?”
“Live well, don’t talk about death. Don’t be crazy, Zhuang Qiting. I don’t have the power to kill you.”
Li Yaru gasped, unwilling to hear such talk, pain tightening her heart when he mentioned death.
“Don’t you?” Zhuang Qiting said, recalling how he almost fainted just now, heart numb, mind clouded.
At that moment, he’d thought he was dying— killed by his wife’s anger.
He pressed his cold fingers against her wet lips.
“How far did you go with him? Did he kiss you? Touch you? Your hands, waist, chest, butt… or here?”
He reached toward her skirt’s hem.
“Get away!” Li Yaru tensed up fiercely, instinctively raising her foot to stomp hard on his chest, kicking him back to stop his move.
“Li Yaru,” Zhuang Qiting’s tone darkened, a hint of threat.
Beneath her foot was a fiery-hot chest.
Li Yaru momentarily lost focus.
She had just stepped on another man, now on him—it felt completely different.
Her foot burned, her legs turned weak.
Zhuang Qiting didn’t want to return to the tense atmosphere between them or always anger his wife.
He stayed calm and tried to sound gentle.
“Li Yaru, I just wanted to check. Arou, I want to make sure he didn’t—”
“Didn’t.”
“…Then check for me.”
He needed to see and touch to be fully reassured.
Li Yaru knew him well enough— he would never listen no matter what she said.
She just smiled and looked at the flickering candlelight on the coffee table.
The world seemed to sway with that flame.
She pressed her toes, lightly fluttering like a butterfly on his chest.
“Zhuang Qiting, I want… you to kiss my foot now.”
He paused, looking at her, his chest pressed under her soft, pale sole as if she had him underfoot.
He momentarily lost himself.
Grasping her delicate heel, he bent slowly, about to kiss the top of her foot— when she stomped down hard again.
“Not like that.”
Li Yaru swallowed.
Her mouth still carried his taste.
“Zhuang Qiting, kneel down and kiss my foot.”
His pupils suddenly flashed brightly, locking onto her with a look that seemed ready to swallow her whole.
They’d been married nearly fifteen years, yet she had never made such a demand before, like riding his face or making him kneel to serve her.
He’d only laughed at such requests, spanking her and teasing her for being spoiled, acting like she ruled the roost.
He was her man, her husband, the one to protect and cherish her.
How could he kneel like a little man just to be toyed with?
He would bow to make her comfortable, but never to satisfy her spoiled whims.
Authority had to be maintained— spoiling her too much meant more work to discipline later, which was not worthwhile.
Zhuang Qiting had always stuck to this.
Besides, in his heart, Li Yaru was always mischievous and difficult to manage.
Her eyes reddened as she looked at him complexly and proudly.
“Kneel and kiss my foot, or… get lost.”
No one had ever dared speak to him like that.
Zhuang Qiting had never bowed his head in his life.
He didn’t need to— unless it was his beloved wife who forced him to.
She wanted to see him beg and fail, unable to resist, humbled.
She didn’t want to kill him with anger— she wanted to dominate him, to mock his absolute control over her all these years.
His muscles tensed, palm gripping her foot, squeezing harder, wishing he could crush that delicate sole.
He breathed deeply and stared at her for a long time.
Then, expressionless, he stood, leaving the sofa.
His perspective shifted from level to towering over her.
Li Yaru thought he wouldn’t do it.
He’d been proud and majestic all his life— there was no way he’d lose face in front of a woman.
Forget it. No need to force him.
Even if he knelt and kissed her, what would she really gain?
A bite of twisted satisfaction? The joy of conquering him?
Just as she closed her eyes, ready to wave him away, the dignified man slowly lowered himself before her.
His knees pressed heavily onto the carpet, surrendering with the posture of submission.
His straight dress pants were stretched tight over powerful thighs, legs parted to shield her slender calves in the center.
Li Yaru didn’t expect he would kneel on both knees, calmly watching him.
He held her foot, bowed his head, and kissed it once, without a word.
Li Yaru curled her toes.
The moment he kissed her, a current surged through her body, blood boiling.
The sensation was like a tsunami sweeping through her.
The mood couldn’t have been better.
Her scalp tingled, speechless, staring at him.
Zhuang Qiting didn’t release her foot, kissing it again, teeth flashing as he gently bit.
Li Yaru’s breath quickened, her eyes unfocused.
Her toes curled and relaxed, curled again.
“Enough…”
The man didn’t stop, kissing from the foot’s top all the way up to the calf, like a crawling, winding snake, slowly slithering, finally disappearing beneath the edge of the lace slip.
“Zhuang…”
Li Yaru bit her lip, gripping his hair tightly, pupils dilating.
She had never looked at Zhuang Qiting this way before.
He liked to make her arch in the bathtub, or when she knelt or lay on the couch with him behind her.
Now, kneeling at her feet, looking up, greedily tasting her.
Li Yaru felt like she was going crazy.
Within less than a minute, the floodgates opened— mountain torrents, flying pearls, and pouring rain.
Zhuang Qiting’s breath was sticky, his face damp with rain-like traces.
Their gazes intertwined in the warm light, frozen in time, their breathing loud in the silence.
Suddenly, he rose like a coiled serpent ready to strike.
Leaping fiercely, he scooped her up and threw her onto the soft bed.
His heavy, burning body pressed down on her.
Li Yaru closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his broad back.
She didn’t resist him, didn’t get angry, didn’t force him to bow—often intentionally.
She knew she was childish for this.
Suddenly, she remembered that dream— the half-snake, half-human monster that had also pinned her down, suddenly breaking in.
Li Yaru was dazed, her body’s switches flipped on, vacant places connected, swelling and fullness filling her.
He was excessive, seemingly unaware of how big and hard he was, breaking through her defenses, declaring with this way that their entanglement couldn’t be severed, would last forever.
Li Yaru’s throat released a soft sound, her red eyes misted with fog.
She bit his shoulder, fingers trembling as they gripped his strong back.
The atmosphere couldn’t have been better.
She was powerless against the curse Zhuang Qiting etched into her soul and could only lose control.
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