A quarrel born of jealousy

—I’ll shield you from the drinks.

Mo Zhi Cheng watched her as the woman’s supple figure nestled deeply into his embrace. Her arms, which had originally encircled his wrist, now instinctively wrapped around his waist. Her face was flushed, pressing against him with a heat that seemed to intensify.

He reached out, pulling her closer by the shoulders, his gaze fixed on her as he murmured, “Who gave you permission to block my drinks?”

“I did!” she smiled, slowly lifting her eyes to meet his. Her hand curled around his neck, drawing herself even closer. Mo Zhi Cheng’s ambiguous stare lingered on her.

“I want to shield you; what can you do about it?” she declared defiantly, a touch of frustration in her voice. Deep inside, she felt suffocated, the sense of oppression that had plagued her since Leng Ting Yu’s return to the country lingering relentlessly, refusing to fade. It pained her.

Mo Zhi Cheng allowed her to cling to him, but with a sidelong glance, he caught the driver’s eye. Master Chen lifted his gaze, and through the rearview mirror, their eyes met. Sensing the atmosphere, the driver swiftly averted his eyes and focused on the road ahead.

Mo Zhi Cheng lowered his own eyes, gazing again into those bright, slightly glazed pupils with patience. “Enough, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!” The woman frowned, freeing one hand to hold him tightly. Her flushed lips hovered, barely touching his thin ones.

Seeing her intoxicated daze, he feigned a question, “Why did you drink the toast Yu Ye offered you?”

She stared at him in surprise, her hand gliding over his cold, stern face as she listened. “Didn’t you see the ill intent in his gaze?”

Ling Lan’s smile blossomed, her drunken expression like a flower lightly stirred by the night breeze. She whispered, “I know.”

“You knew and still drank with him?” Mo Zhi Cheng’s expression darkened.

“I did it on purpose,” Ling Lan laughed softly, her delicate fingers teasing his lips. She narrowed her eyes, emboldened by the wine. “I did it on purpose. I deliberately let him... hold my hand, deliberately toasted his drink, deliberately smiled at him.”

“—”

“I’m not stupid. I know the interest and curiosity in his eyes. I’m no breathtaking beauty, no national treasure. He just wants to see if the woman Mo Zhi Cheng brings around is... *that* kind. You men are all lechers, creatures ruled by your lower instincts.”

She smiled, noting the brewing storm in his eyes, then leaned close, her breath warm by his ear. “They say men don’t desire wild older women or innocent young girls, but rather the process of a woman transforming in their hands—from purity to maturity. Yu Ye wants me.”

Ling Lan’s drunken laughter deepened. “That’s why I deliberately held his hand. Do you know? When he touched me, he secretly left his number on my palm. And of course, I have a photographic memory—I remember it perfectly. So, do you think I should call him...?”

Mo Zhi Cheng gripped her wrist, a low breath laced with anger. “Have you had enough fun?” he said coldly.

Recalling the exchanges of glances between her and Yu Ye at the banquet, and the way that man had fondled her palm, Mo Zhi Cheng lifted her chin, his breath heated with jealousy.

Ling Lan met his gaze with a tipsy grin, sensing his displeasure yet feeling a surge of pleasure herself. She teased, “You and Yu Ye are competing over that ‘City Investment’ land, right? Maybe I should take this chance to contact him, get close, follow his movements...”

Before she finished, Mo Zhi Cheng harshly pinned her against the leather seat, his arm crossing over her chest. His eyes blazed with fury, his breath heavy. “Say that again.” His fingers punished her beneath her skirt.

She paused, startled but stubborn. “I said maybe I should play along and seduce him.”

“Ye Ling Lan,” he growled, staring into the crescent-shaped smile in her eyes. Suddenly, the image of Yu Ye pressing himself against her flashed vividly in his mind.

She shouldn’t be so beautiful. Just as she said, a woman’s greatest allure lies in her transformation under a man’s hands—from innocent to mature. He closed in, his hand slipping beneath her skirt, his heavy breathing betraying the depth of his jealousy and rage.

“Hmm...” she frowned, discomfort flickering across her face.

Ling Lan bit her lip tightly, her brows furrowed in a knot. The pleasure coursing beneath her nearly stole her breath away; the sensation sweeping over her chest was so intense and deep, it left an insatiable yearning.

Helpless, she looked at him, catching the fury etched deeply across his face. It seemed she had crossed his bottom line, but intoxicated as she was, she couldn’t restrain herself. Provocative words slipped out before she could stop them—too late now.

His fingers teased her core mercilessly, the piercing pleasure hitting her like thunder, yet his voice whispered faintly in her ear: “If you dare do this—seduce other men with your body—I’ll make sure you never see daylight again, and that man will suffer worse than death.”

He dragged her into the bedroom, flinging her against the door. Before she could regain her senses, he bent down and sealed her lips with his own. The kiss was not gentle, but it swept over her like a fierce storm of passion.

The room was dark except for the pale, frosted moonlight spilling through the window, casting a silvery glow.

In the confined space, only the man’s low breaths and the woman’s soft moans could be heard. They swiftly shed each other’s clothes, their entangled kisses unable to contain the raging desire.

They moved from the door to the expansive floor-to-ceiling window.

The moonlight poured over her flawless, pale form. Sweat glistened on her forehead, each bead seeming to be infused with passion. Her hair clung damply to her slender face, partially veiling her delicate features, enhancing her ethereal, enigmatic allure.

The man’s muscular body towered over her like a sovereign. Every inch of his taut muscles was toned with perfect tension.

He pressed her against the heavy glass, the coldness biting her spine, yet his burning body wrapped her like a blanket—half icy, half aflame—immersing her in a delirious dream. She gazed drowsily at the silver light above.

Ling Lan’s breaths came quick and shallow. Whether from intoxication or something else, their bodies clung tightly, as if trying to fuse bone and blood into one.

The waxing crescent above resembled the curve of her smiling brows but was deeply tinged with a sense of ‘longing.’

Mo Zhi Cheng kissed her again and again, but it was like drinking poison to quench thirst. His kisses traveled from her lips down to her flat abdomen, his agile tongue exploring.

Feeling her trembling and weakness, he steadied her waist and kissed her navel. Ling Lan’s helpless hands cupped his head. She was utterly lost under his touch, yet his practiced movements made her wonder how many women he had been with before.

A suffocating seed of jealousy rekindled in her heart, slowly tearing her apart. She had never understood before, but now she found herself wanting to possess someone completely and exclusively—a possessiveness so intense it frightened her.

Her brows furrowed deeper, unaware that his lips had already ventured further, descending to her most intimate place.

His fingers gently stroked the tender roots of her thighs. She yielded to him, unable to resist. When he covered her again, Mo Zhi Cheng heard her faint, sorrowful whisper: “How many women have you been with? Hmm?”

Her breath was helpless yet enchanting. He was speechless at her question. Still intoxicated, she murmured, “One month.”

Mo Zhi Cheng cupped her flushed face, understanding she meant the month-long arrangement between them. He softly asked, “After one month, will you still leave?”

Her misty eyes shimmered with tears, despite the drunken haze, as if awakening from a dream. Bitter and helpless, the feeling lodged deep in her throat.

Her serene face darkened, looking like an innocent yet fallen lily beneath the moonlight.

Mo Zhi Cheng grasped her jaw, forcing her to meet his gaze and speak the truth. Tears trembled in her eyes as she nodded and whispered, “I’m going to leave. Ugh...”

He silenced her lips with his own, capturing her tongue, then swept her up and tossed her onto the mattress. Pressing down on her body, he knelt between her legs, gripping his arousal and aligning himself with her core, inching inside.

Ling Lan shut her eyes tightly, warm tears tracing a cold arc down her cheeks. She only felt his hardness buried deep within her, filling the emptiness in her chest, only to ignite an even fiercer passion.

Mo Zhi Cheng thrust harshly, punishing her by restraining her hands but demanding to witness every flicker of her passion.

—Are you still going to leave?!

—I’m going to leave!

He frowned, unable to contain the storm of anger surging within him. Only by plunging deep and hard into her could he claim complete possession.

He freed his hands and raised her long legs, resting them on his shoulders. Leaning forward,I'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.