Chapter 8 (2/2): Throwing Herself into His Arms in the Dead of Night

By the time she reached Baihu Bay, even the lingering Peach Fragrance from her long bath hadn’t faded.

Her phone rang—Mr. Song Huaixu replied.

[Does Miss Xu regret giving it?]

Why not answer directly?

Miss Xu Nanyin wanted to say she’d packed the wrong thing, but if he’d opened it, he’d know what she used.

Even though it was to solve her own needs, letting an unfamiliar man find out was too embarrassing.

Her heart thudded as she carefully typed: [Did you touch the thing inside?]

Although the message came from an unfamiliar number, Mr. Song Huaixu knew at a glance it was Miss Xu Nanyin.

No one else addressed him that way.

[Didn’t touch what’s inside.]

He really hadn’t touched the white rabbit from start to finish.

But to Miss Xu Nanyin, that sounded different.

She was overjoyed: [I found a little problem. If… you haven’t touched it, could you please not open it yet?]

In the quiet villa, there was still a faint Blood Scent in the living room.

The Servant was about to clean up, sneaking a glance.

The man’s face was calm, his well-defined fingers carelessly brushing over the brand name on the white paper bag.

[If there’s a problem, come get it yourself.]

***

Baihu Bay Villa.

“Hurry, let’s go, I told you begging him was useless. We just got here and were kicked out. Song Huaixu is so cold-blooded!”

“Don’t say that. At least he let you in. Others can’t even get that far. Playing pitiful really doesn’t work. Sigh, son, there’s no saving you.”

Chen Father’s face was clouded with worry.

“He holds all the power, we all depend on him.”

Chen Jun rolled his eyes, baring his teeth in pain.

They only got in because of their family ties.

His deceased mother was related to Song Huaixu’s family.

Otherwise, if he died outside, the man in the villa might just call the Funeral Home out of pity.

He’d just been punished by Family Law yesterday, whipped, and today, to appease his high and mighty Song Cousin, he was forced to wear filthy, bloody clothes that hadn’t been washed.

His father thought that if Song Huaixu beat him again, maybe he’d cool off and let the Company’s troubles slide.

Song Huaixu saw right through them at a glance.

Chen Jun saw his frown and knew he was done for, focusing on playing the victim but forgetting that Song Huaixu was a neat freak.

Sure enough, the next second, they were told to take their whips and get out—if they were sick, go to the hospital.

Chen Jun, supported by his father, limped out.

Before they reached the gate, someone slowly opened the door.

At first, they thought it was for them.

Unexpectedly, a girl walked in from outside.

Her oval face was smaller than a palm, and under the dim courtyard lights, her skin looked fair and delicate.

Under her shawl, she wore a white dress.

Her eyes were misty, like Ning Lake at dawn.

Was she here to throw herself at Song Huaixu?

Miss Xu Nanyin entered the courtyard and saw two people heading her way, their clothes tattered, faces bloodied—it startled her.

She’d never seen such a scene.

“Dad, call the car already. If I die here, he’ll probably complain I dirtied the place.”

As he spoke, Chen Jun stifled the urge to spit out the Chicken Blood in his mouth.

Swallowing it, even some leaked from his nose.

Die here?

Miss Xu Nanyin watched as he gagged, blood trickling from his mouth and nose, and caught a whiff of Blood Scent on the breeze.

Her rosy face turned pale.

She whispered, “What happened to you two…?”

Did she come at a bad time tonight?

Was Song Huaixu really so ruthless?

Chen Jun sized her up, instantly seeing her innocence.

He was always patient with pretty girls.

“We upset the person inside, that’s all.”

To Miss Xu Nanyin, this confirmed her fears. Her lashes trembled.

Xu Father used to love watching Mainland Historical Drama, and she’d sometimes watch with him.

She remembered a scene where one side sent women’s clothing to the enemy as an insult.

After Song Huaixu told her to get the item herself, he’d gone quiet, not saying if he’d opened it.

…If he had, and saw a woman’s adult toy, would he think she was mocking him?

Would she end up like them?

Miss Xu Nanyin felt a twinge of fear.

But she comforted herself—she was the only daughter of a famous Port City tycoon.

If something happened, it’d be big news. He wouldn’t dare.

Besides, his reply didn’t seem angry. Maybe he hadn’t opened it.

Lost in thought, she realized the two had left, and the wind made her face even more bitter as she walked inside.

In the living room, several Servants were spraying and scrubbing the floor, like they were cleaning up a crime scene.

Miss Xu Nanyin sat down properly.

“…Where’s your Master?”

The middle-aged Butler who brought her in saw her slightly panicked face.

It was the first time a woman had come here—and one so well-behaved.

Sir had said a girl would visit in the next couple of days, but this was fast.

Well, fast was good. Even at night, it was fine.

He smiled kindly to put her at ease.

“Those two just had bad intentions. Sir didn’t do anything. He’s upstairs, I’ll go—”

“No, no need.”

Miss Xu Nanyin shook her head.

“I can wait. Did your Master bring back a white paper bag?”

“He did. He had me put it in the upstairs room.”

“Did he open it?”

“That, I’m not sure.”

The Butler thoughtfully asked what she’d like to drink.

She only wanted warm water, sipping it as the living room emptied.

No one came down from upstairs.

Miss Xu Nanyin regretted not letting the Butler call him earlier.

Now she couldn’t see anyone, and after hesitating, she went upstairs herself.

At least they’d had pleasant conversations before; he shouldn’t be that ruthless…

The villa was decorated in a classic style, mostly dark tones.

The thick carpet on the second floor muffled all sound, making the hallway silent.

Miss Xu Nanyin saw a door ajar with light spilling out.

She braced herself and was about to knock when she heard water—shower sounds.

In movies, people always shower after killing someone.

Miss Xu Nanyin gently pushed open the door.

The bedroom was large, but unlike hers, it was sparse and clean.

A familiar white paper bag sat quietly on a table, waiting for its owner.

It was practically an invitation to commit a crime.

***

Mr. Song Huaixu came out of the bathroom and immediately saw someone by the table.

As she raised her hand, her shawl slipped a little, revealing her round, delicate shoulder—almost as if teasing on purpose.

He raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

Miss Xu Nanyin had just taken out the box, planning to swap it out. He’d surely recognized the outer bag, but the inside was different.

Suddenly, a deep voice sounded behind her.

Already feeling guilty, she spun around in a hurry, bumping right into a solid chest.

Firm, tense.

Hot to the touch.

A rush of sensations overwhelmed her.

She didn’t know when Mr. Song Huaixu had gotten behind her, wearing only a bath towel at his waist, his muscles clearly defined.

He was so close, Miss Xu Nanyin could feel the heat radiating from his damp skin.

Her face instantly flushed bright red.

She quickly turned away, but her peripheral vision couldn’t avoid him.

“You told me to come get it,” she explained.

Tonight, the Peach Fragrance was especially strong.

As the girl turned, her hair brushed past his chest, her profile tinged with pink.

She must look like this when aroused, too.

Mr. Song Huaixu’s breath faltered.

He regretted using cold water just now.

He gently turned her face towards him, lifting her chin.

“Is this how you’re supposed to take it?” he said softly.

“Your actions tonight make me think your excuse about the gift being a problem is just that—an excuse.”

An excuse?

It was, actually.

Miss Xu Nanyin didn’t catch on at first.

He already had her trapped here, and she couldn’t help but nuzzle his hand on her face.

This was warm skin.

He didn’t seem to notice…

Miss Xu Nanyin could never resist her craving for skin contact.

From the doorway, she was so petite that Mr. Song Huaixu’s frame completely hid her.

Taking the chance to soothe her craving, she didn’t forget her purpose: “I just wanted to give you the best gift. Don’t you trust me?”

Her voice was soft and sweet, flustered and sticky, almost like a spoiled complaint—impossible to resist.

The man’s fingertips traced her cheek, his gaze deep and intent.

“I trust that the real gift is you.”