Chapter 21: Form Is Emptiness
The vehicle stopped slowly at the entrance of the villa.
The neckline of the gown was very low. Ruan Yi looked down; the skin on her chest was too white, and the marks were so obvious. If someone else saw this, she wouldn’t know how to explain.
Gritting her teeth, she pulled the gown’s chest higher until it could completely cover those ambiguous red marks.
Looking at Fu Jingchen, who was as quiet as a corpse beside her, Ruan Yi was fuming.
She wouldn’t feel right if she didn’t retaliate!
She pulled an eyeliner pen out of her handbag.
Ruan “Master Artist” Yi began her painting work.
She leaned close to the passenger seat, her face approaching the man’s high nose bridge.
The pen tip drew a crooked tortoise pattern on his left cheek, and hooked a very “Japanese style” Baka mustache above his tightly pursed thin lips.
Warm breath brushed past the side of his neck. The girl bit her lower lip, holding back laughter uncomfortably.
Immersed in her creation, the girl didn’t notice at all that the “drunkard’s” ear tips were getting redder, and a certain place was standing up increasingly exaggeratedly.
When preparing to process the canvas on the right cheek, Ruan Yi couldn’t quite reach, so she braced her hand on the edge of the seat.
She successfully drew an exquisite poop-shaped object on the man’s right cheek, comparable to the one on Lazy Sheep’s head, and finally embellished the side of his face with some cat whiskers.
Looking at these messy patterns, Ruan Yi smiled until her face hurt a bit. If this stinky Fu Jingchen asked about it, she would say he went crazy when drunk and drew it himself.
“Keep it as a souvenir~” Ruan Yi lowered her head to find her phone in the central armrest area. But as soon as she looked down, her eyes slid to somewhere extraordinary.
“Cough… Cough, cough!” Ruan Yi was startled, then choked on her own saliva, immediately bouncing away from in front of him.
How could he still…! A girth almost surpassing her wristāwas this the specialty of the male lead’s halo setting?
At this level… Ruan Yi extended her hand and gestured roughly. Ah… would die.
A suspicious heat spread from her cheeks to her neck.
“Ruan Yi, what are you thinking! Form is emptiness, emptiness is form.”
Ruan Yi muttered to herself, feeling the frequency of her lustful thoughts these days was a bit too high. She suspected the old Chinese doctor’s medicine was too effective; it over-supplemented her.
Throwing the presumptuous thoughts out of her head, Ruan Yi opened the camera. The cold light of the phone screen reflected on Ruan Yi’s wildly smiling face.
The lens focused on the man’s face, on that square mustache. The man’s eyelashes suddenly moved. Ruan Yi shook with fright, almost dropping the phone.
Fortunately, the man didn’t wake up. Click, click sounds rang out successively until there were more than ten “ugly” photos in the album.
“Nuwa really… why did she mold this dead pervert’s face so handsomely!” Ruan Yi flipped through the photos just taken on her phone. In the pictures, the only ugly things were her doodles.
While the girl complained, the person beside her seemed to still be sleeping deeplyāif not for that smear of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Outside the car, it was completely quiet. It was already very late. Ruan Yi really didn’t want to face it, but she, the “cargo mover” assistant, really had to start working.
Her fingertips just touched Fu Jingchen’s shoulder when the man leaned over with the momentum, his hot breath sweeping past the tip of her ear.
Ruan Yi bit her lower lip and exerted force, half-embracing him. She deliberately kept some distance, trying her best to only support his arm. The perfume smell still mixed with alcohol fumes rushed to her face. Suddenly, an arm wrapped around her lower back, and her body stumbled closer to him.
“Dead Fu Jingchen, stand steady for me.” Her ear tips turned red uncontrollably. She could only maintain the clinging posture, struggling to prop him up and walk toward the villa.
The man seemed limp with drunkenness, yet his palm could seemingly unintentionally stick to her waist, as if rubbing, or perhaps swaying with the inertia of movement.
Ruan Yi finally moved the person to the bedroom and threw him onto the bed.
Rubbing her sore wrist, she wanted to straighten up, but her lower back was suddenly pulled by a brute force, causing her to fall headfirst, her nose hitting directly on his collarbone.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch… Why would someone want to find Mommy to hug all the time when drunk!” If Ruan Yi were a block of tofu, she would have been thoroughly eaten clean by this drunkard tonight.
Really wanted to strangle him. If she had known, she would have left him in the parking lot to fend for himself.
She propped herself on his chest trying to climb up, her fingertips sinking into the firm muscles of his chest. The man was clearly sleeping deeply, yet his arms circled deadly tight.
Ruan Yi had no choice. In the end, she could only stick to him and struggle arduously out of his unyielding arms.
Raise salary. Tomorrow she must tell this boss who didn’t treat assistants as humans to raise her salary. At least add a zero at the end!
The girl left angrily. After closing the door, a suppressed low laugh could be heard from the bed, tickling one’s heart in the silent night.
The first thing the man did upon opening his eyes was to enter the bathroom without hesitation, seeming impatient to express something.
The collar, already pulled wide open, stopped abruptly in front of the mirror.
The man reflected in the mirror… his usually cold, hard jawline was now occupied by crooked cat whiskers, a little tortoise, and a Hitler mustache. There was even an unidentified poop-shaped object.
The man raised his fingertips to stroke the doodles on his cheek. Instead of the expected anger, only infinite softness spread in his chest.
“Xiao Yi…” He muttered in a low voice, his finger pad freezing on the comical doodle, his heart seemingly squeezed.
Inner desire was like a tide that never receded, kneaded into a ball with warm fine sand.
By the time he realized it, it was too late. Drowning in this love known only to him was his destiny.
Under the same roof, someone expressed himself in the steam surging with love, his breath wrapped in scorching heat.
Someone else was pierced in the heart by thorn-like jealousy, cracking rage churning in his blood.
The cup seemed to have been crushed by brute force just now. Sharp glass shards embedded in his palm. Scarlet blood flowed down the gaps between his fingers, dripping onto the balcony floor.
The car downstairs just sat quietly, but the shadows seemed to retain the residual warmth of those two figures supporting and clinging to each other not long ago.
The wound cut by glass burned with pain, but it couldn’t compare to the jealousy churning in his chest.
The one by Sister’s side should be him. It could only be him.
Moonlight projected on his twisted face, making him look pale, but the fire burning in his eyes almost burned through the vehicle.
“Looks like I need to be faster.” The man turned back to his room.
The only light source in the room was the computer that hadn’t gone to sleep yet. On the dark blue screen were jumping K-line charts, scrolling stock tickers, and exaggerated amounts of transnational transfer records.
Data as complex as secret codes, yet in his eyes, those flashing numbers were just like playing with a handy toy.
For others, he had plenty of methods.
But how should he punish his treasure?
Body has recovered mostly, right.
Rested for so long. Punishing a bit more, a bit longer, isn’t excessive, right.
Long eyelashes trembled, and the corners of his eyes even overflowed with a few tears. Even if the soft skin was rubbed red, he wouldn’t stop.
But relying solely on this method to vent, he couldn’t endure much longer.
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