Chapter Twenty

Yingyue immediately grew angry, but her voice was gentle, even suffused with a deep happiness. “Of course, as long as I’m with Xi, any place becomes a blissful paradise.” Within her tone, there was a trace of challenge she herself didn’t notice. She paused. “Unlike being with you—no matter how beautiful the place, it’s as if it’s—hell.” Her words were cruel, whispering like a ghost beside Arthur’s ear, as though only by wounding him so deeply could she soothe her own heart, torn and bleeding, riddled with scars.

The window curtains drifted. Arthur spun around abruptly; even in the darkness, Yingyue could clearly feel the searing fury in his eyes as he glared at her. The corners of her lips curved into a cruel smile she herself was unaware of. “What’s wrong? Now that your mother has found happiness, shouldn’t her ‘son’ be glad?” She fixed her gaze on him, speaking each word with deliberate care, reaching out her small hand to gently touch the hair that gleamed like metal even in the dark, then sliding down to caress his smooth, silk-like cheek, the kind women envied. Her hand stopped at his well-shaped chin, curling her index finger and pressing his chin with her thumb and finger, locking it in place. “Hmm?” Her smile widened, and beneath the flickering neon lights outside the window, her lips glowed with a seductive brilliance. “You’re going to have a new daddy now!”

Arthur froze where he stood, his expression stiffening for a moment as he stared straight at her. Suddenly, he smiled—that smile dazzling and painful to behold. A bewitching voice slipped elegantly from his rose-tinted lips. “Mother’s happiness—how could I not be pleased?” He paused, an endless mirth rising in his eyes, ambiguous and wicked. “What I love most is seeing Mother with that blissful smile.” His soft words landed on Yingyue’s heart like hammers, one after another.

Yingyue’s face turned instantly ashen, her lips flushed crimson as though after drinking blood, a strange, vampiric beauty blooming beneath the dim wall lamp. Her cherry lips trembled ceaselessly. At last, Yingyue found her voice. “You are a devil.” Her tone was eerily calm as her gaze drifted into the depths of the night.

Arthur’s eyes flashed. His arm snaked around Yingyue’s slender waist, and with a sudden movement, they both fell onto the bed, the soft mattress curving into an intimate arc beneath them. His warm breath, now rapid, brushed against Yingyue’s pale face, igniting two faint blushes that spread across her cheeks; her breath quickened as well. Yingyue turned her face away and shut her eyes, but a sharp, sudden pain forced her to open them again. Arthur was gripping her delicate chin tightly, twisting her head toward him, forcing her to meet his gaze.

That same wicked smile remained, but his true feelings were unreadable in his eyes. “Then let me show my angelic little mother what a devil truly is—what it truly means to be a devil.”

With those words, before Yingyue could react, he lowered his head and crushed his lips to hers in a fierce kiss. It was as if he poured all his strength into it, sucking and biting at her, as though trying to draw her very soul into himself. Yingyue refused to open her mouth; Arthur’s fingers tightened, and when pain forced a sound from her, he took the opportunity to slip inside. His kiss—or perhaps it was more like a child’s desperate gnawing—brought an unexpected ache to Yingyue’s heart. Yet at the same time, a chill crept across her chest, as though something was moving incessantly there.

A tremor ran through Yingyue’s body; her mind cleared in a flash. She summoned all her strength and pushed Arthur away. At some point her collar had come undone, baring her chest, and red fingerprints lingered where his grip had been.

Suddenly—a sharp slap rang out, and five red marks bloomed instantly across Arthur’s cheek. He stroked his face lightly, seemingly unfazed, gazing coolly at Yingyue. But her eyes blazed with near-mad hatred. Yet Arthur only smiled, a pure smile as pristine as a snow lotus blooming on the highest peak.

“Remember this feeling, and keep it with you always.” The words, cold and cruel, slipped from Arthur’s rose-petal lips.

By the time those words reached Yingyue’s ears, their speaker had already vanished, as if he had never existed—if not for the creased marks left behind on the bedsheet.

Arthur had left her once more.

Just as he had come, like the wind, he had swept away from Yingyue’s side again.