Chapter 39: She Really Wants It

In the shower, the sound of water dripped steadily, like rain.

Like the rain that poured outside the abandoned factory that night.

Jiang Se’s eyelashes trembled slightly. She didn’t understand why he suddenly stopped or why he would ask her such a question.

No one had ever asked her that before. Even Aunt Zhang, who had taken care of her since she was little, never asked such a thing.

Because such a question was meaningless.

What if she wasn’t happy?

She could only endure it, suppress it, let it rot deep inside her heart.

It wasn’t that she had never lost control before. Seven years ago, in the hospital, when she found out that Zhao Zhicheng had swallowed razor blades to kill himself, she had grabbed Ji Yunyi’s hand and pleaded with her, “You have to save him! He can’t die! There’s still someone we haven’t caught—someone is still out there!”

Zhang Yue was right. Zhao Zhicheng wasn’t the mastermind.

A man who had stopped others from violating her, who had wiped the bloodstains from her face, who had apologized to her and told her someone was waiting for him to return—Jiang Se refused to believe that such a person could be the mastermind behind the kidnapping.

At that time, she had been too emotional, too out of control. Her untrimmed nails, uncut for three days, even left a few thin scratches on Ji Yunyi’s hand.

Finally, Ji Yunyi couldn’t take it anymore and slapped her hard across the face.

“Have you had enough, Se Se?”

“Zhao Zhicheng is dead. This matter is over! Are you determined to ruin yourself, to drag the entire Cen family into becoming the laughingstock of Beicheng before you’ll stop?”

Ji Yunyi’s chest rose and fell with anger. After a moment, she forcibly turned Jiang Se’s face back toward her and softened her voice.

“Se Se, aside from severing a tendon in your hand and starving for a few days, you weren’t seriously hurt. Do you know how lucky you are? Have you even considered what people will say about you once the news of your kidnapping spreads? Let me tell you—those rumors will make it impossible for you to ever lift your head again! Remember this: these past few days, you’ve been home the whole time. You never went to the art institute. You don’t know anyone named Zhao Zhicheng!”

That slap shattered the emotions teetering on the edge of Jiang Se’s control.

She lifted her eyes to Ji Yunyi, cracked her dry lips into a smile, and said, “What does it matter what others say? Why should I be unable to lift my head? I did nothing wrong. I will never be ashamed! And the funniest part is—you actually think I’m lucky?”

She laughed until tears came to her eyes. “Then I wish you the same luck as me!”

So…

What if she was unhappy?

She would find a way to swallow those emotions and move forward.

She had endured far worse unhappiness before.

The shower water continued to fall.

Droplets from the man’s wet hair dripped onto her eyelashes. He used the rough pad of his finger to wipe them away.

Jiang Se lowered her gaze.

The light touch of his fingertip against her lashes always reminded her of how it felt as a child when she playfully brushed the soles of her feet with a paintbrush—gentle, fleeting, ticklish, and somehow, inexplicably soft.

A person’s actions, under a certain atmosphere, can be tinged with emotion. Right now, his movements and his words carried an unmistakable tenderness.

A tenderness that shouldn’t have belonged to him.

Jiang Se sat up slightly, picked up the towel beside her, and draped it over his head, gently wiping away the droplets clinging to his hair.

Lu Huaiyan let his hands rest on either side of her, allowing her to dry his hair.

He hadn’t tied the belt of his robe properly. As he leaned forward, the ends of the untied belt hung loosely at his waist, the tips brushing slowly against the top of her foot.

Jiang Se lifted her knee and slid her pale, delicate feet along his firm waistline, slipping them into his robe. At the same time, she pulled the towel off his head, and her lips lightly touched his.

She looked at him and said, “Lu Huaiyan, I want the pleasure you gave me that night.”

The unparalleled pleasure he had spoken of that night—after annihilating Lu Jinzhong—she wanted it.

She wanted to release the fire burning in her blood and flesh, just like he did.

Her beautiful, cold almond eyes were now laced with desire.

But it wasn’t just lust—it was something deeper, another kind of longing.

A sickness, like when she had lifted his collar in the hospital and inhaled his scent.

Lu Huaiyan met her gaze with slightly lowered eyes. In the end, he didn’t ask why she was unhappy or what had happened today.

He raised his hand to cradle the back of her head and slowly deepened the kiss.

They used up everything he had brought in. When it was over, Lu Huaiyan carried her into the shower, rinsed her off quickly, then wrapped her in a towel and took her back to the bedroom.

This time was even more exhausting than before.

Jiang Se closed her eyes, gradually calming her breath. She felt Lu Huaiyan’s hand grasp her ankle and lifted her eyes slightly, just in time to hear his quiet hiss.

The man looked up at her, his voice slightly hoarse. “You really showed me what it means to have a delicate body.”

Jiang Se pulled her knees together and looked at him calmly. “I’m fine.”

Lu Huaiyan let out a low chuckle, draped the new nightgown he had taken from the wardrobe over her, and played along. “I know. Our young lady is the least fragile, the strongest of all.”

“…”

Jiang Se lowered her gaze, picked up the cardigan he had just brought over, and slowly put it on.

Lu Huaiyan leaned down and helped her pull her hair out from under the collar, then asked, “Are you hungry?”

Jiang Se nodded, answering honestly, “Hungry.”

Lu Huaiyan pinched her sharp chin and smiled. “Me too. All I had for lunch was that red bean bread you had Assistant Li send over.”

Several esteemed professors invited from Beicheng included two who had studied abroad with Old Master Lu in their youth. As his elders, he had already arranged a banquet to dine and toast with them.

When a certain young lady called him, he had been just about to leave for the hotel.

Yet, after rushing back in a hurry, he found that all she wanted was to sleep with him—not even allowing him a proper meal first.

The man’s refined, sharp features carried a hint of amusement, his expression caught between a smile and indifference, exuding a natural unruliness and the lazy satisfaction of post-pleasure.

It wasn’t just him—she, too, had an unmistakable sense of ease after the fact. The fire burning within her flesh and blood had finally found an outlet, dissipating the fever that had threatened to rise.

Catching the teasing undertone in his words, Jiang Se suddenly recalled the way his Adam’s apple had bobbed earlier, how he had bitten her lips and let out a low groan. She responded unhurriedly, “Didn’t you enjoy yourself just as much?”

Lu Huaiyan still had his fingers on her chin. Hearing this, he lightly tapped her skin with his fingertips and smirked. “Just kissing you is enough for me to enjoy myself.”

Jiang Se looked at him without speaking.

He truly loved kissing her—deep or shallow, gentle or intense—every chance he got, he had to touch her.

Not just kissing. He liked holding her, liked interlocking their fingers, liked pressing his palm against hers.

Like lovers caught in the heat of passion, or an old married couple who had been together for years.

Sometimes, holding hands, embracing, and kissing felt more intimate than sex.

And intimacy like this could easily become a habit—one that was hard to break.

Jiang Se lowered her gaze, drew her legs in, rested her chin on her knees, and used the motion to push his fingers away.

“I’m hungry. Tell someone to bring food,” she said lightly, her voice cool. “Anything is fine.”

She was truly starving. She hadn’t been able to eat at the hospital earlier, and after nearly two hours in the bathroom, she was completely drained.

Lu Huaiyan glanced at her, slowly withdrawing his hand. His gaze lingered on her lowered eyelashes for a moment before he simply said, “Wait here,” and left the bedroom.

After he left, Jiang Se slowly lifted her eyes, glancing toward the door, then quickly lowered them again.

But instead of calling for a meal, Lu Huaiyan rolled up his sleeves and personally cooked a pan-seared lamb chop.

Jiang Se smelled the rich aroma from the bedroom. Slipping on her shoes, she walked out, and the moment she saw the perfectly seared lamb chops in the cast-iron pan, hunger crashed over her like a tidal wave—so intense that her legs felt weak.

Lu Huaiyan noticed how she was staring at the food without blinking and chuckled. “Go grab a bottle of wine from the cabinet. Didn’t you get upset that morning because you didn’t get to have lamb chops and whiskey?”

He was referring to New Year’s morning.

She had wanted lamb chops and whiskey for breakfast, but he had refused, worried about her injured hand.

So many days had passed, and she had long since forgotten about it—yet he still remembered.

Jiang Se averted her gaze and walked to the wine cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whiskey.

People often said that red meat should be paired with red wine, but she preferred strong liquor—the stronger, the better. The burn of it always felt more satisfying.

Once she had picked the bottle, Lu Huaiyan brought over two glasses and asked how much she wanted.

Jiang Se didn’t even blink. “Fill it to the brim.”

Lu Huaiyan really did pour her a full glass of whiskey. But she drank it slowly—so slowly that by the time she had finished her lamb chops and dessert, there was still half a glass left.

She picked up the glass and walked into the living room, gazing at the nightscape through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Lu Huaiyan followed behind her, casually lifting the needle of the record player and setting it down in the groove. The vinyl spun slowly.

It was the song she had picked when she went into the bathroom to find him—Lana Del Rey’s California.

When they had kissed in the shower, the lazy melody of this song had intertwined with the sound of running water.

“You don’t ever have to be stronger than you really are…

When you’re lying in my arms…

‘Cause this is crazy love…”

Memory had a way of solidifying, embedding itself within the five senses.

As the music flowed out, she was instantly reminded of the feel of his strong arms around her waist, the heat of his mouth on hers, and the way they had tangled together.

And of the question he had asked her—

“Our dear Miss Jiang, why are you unhappy?”

Their eyes met briefly in the window’s reflection.

Jiang Se swallowed the last sip of whiskey in her mouth and turned to leave the living room. But as she passed him, he suddenly seized her wrist.

“What are you running from?”

She froze for a moment and tilted her head to look at him.

Lu Huaiyan took the glass from her hand, drained the last sip of whiskey, and set the glass down on the table with a sharp clink.

Then he stepped forward, pressing her against the back of the sofa. His hands braced on either side of her as he gazed down into her eyes.

Just moments ago, she had clung to him like a vine, wrapping around him in desperate entanglement, her eyes misty with desire, filled with nothing but him.

But now that it was over, as soon as her rationality returned, she wanted to push him away, cold and detached.

Did she really think it was that easy?

“You obviously want to kiss me. So what are you running from?” His lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes were sharp. “Are you afraid I won’t let you leave peacefully? Or are you afraid that you won’t be able to leave peacefully?”

There was a force within them—an undeniable pull, a magnetic field that resonated and intertwined.

He didn’t believe she was unaware of the way they were drawn to each other. And he certainly didn’t believe she hadn’t been moved.

In that fleeting moment when their eyes had met, he knew—she had wanted to kiss him.

Not for the sex, not for release.

Just because her heart had stirred.

Jiang Se met his gaze in silence.

He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and the aggression in his eyes was just as intense as before—perhaps even more so.

He wouldn’t allow her to dodge, nor would he let her retreat.

She couldn’t use reason to suppress the tremor in her heart.

“Didn’t you say to do whatever feels good? Then listen to this.” Lu Huaiyan lifted his hand, pressing it against her chest, feeling the rhythm of her heartbeat. His gaze was as sharp as a blade. “This tells us what to do, so let’s do it. Right now, I want to kiss you, Se Se. Did this tell you to run?”

The record continued to spin, the slow thump of the drumbeat falling one by one—pounding against the heart.

He pressed his fingertips in slightly, feeling the quickening of her pulse beneath the thin fabric.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Her expression remained cold, but her heartbeat was gradually accelerating.

Lu Huaiyan locked eyes with her, then lowered his head and kissed her.

Jiang Se didn’t run. Her eyelashes trembled slightly before she closed her eyes.

Outside, the snow fell silently.

The record player had long since stopped spinning, its needle resting in place.

The room was so quiet that the only sound left was the entanglement of their lips and tongues.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed before Lu Huaiyan took her hand in his, pressing it against his chest.

His warm breath brushed against the shell of her ear as he murmured slowly, “Do you feel it, Se Se? Our hearts are racing for each other.”

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