Chapter 441: Chapter 439: Seek Me
Lu Ying sat by the window, the narrow-sleeved black robe accentuating his broad shoulders and slim waist, standing tall like an unsheathed black narrow sword, even the silhouette exuded sharpness. His high ponytail cascaded down his back, the slightly upturned ends outlining a wild curve.
He leisurely rubbed the Moyu Ring, his slanted eyes dark and burning like those of a malevolent ghost.
The malevolent ghost’s gaze fixated on the woman on the bed, a smirk playing on his thin lips.
Shen Yinning’s throat was dry and hoarse, as if scorched by fire.
Her eyes were red, her hand supporting her on the bed was pressing so hard it turned white. She didn’t know how long she’d been holding on, but suddenly she grabbed a pillow from the bed and hurled it toward the window.
Lu Ying caught the sapphire silk pillow embroidered with gold thread and casually tossed it to the floor.
The black boots lazily stepped on the soft pillow, his voice playful: "Zhaozhao is being disobedient again. But it’s okay, I can wait patiently."
Behind the screen, the gold-crafted incense burner emitted a warm fragrance.
The man’s unique masculine scent silently blended with the warm fragrance, thread by thread, drifting into Shen Yinning’s tent.
Her breathing became heavy.
With slender, pale fingers, she tightly clutched the silk lapels, kneeling on the bed, her head half-lowered, eyes frighteningly red.
"You’ve put a curse on me..."
Her voice grew even more hoarse, and despite every effort to suppress it, a trace of trembling allure spilled from her tone.
"Yes." Lu Ying’s face was cold and stern, yet hidden deep beneath was a touch of madness, "The poisonous insect from Miaojiang that Qian Duobao recently offered, only one exists in the world. After taking it, Zhaozhao will pine for me daily, unable to resist when sensing my scent. If not satisfied for a day, the suffering will be unbearable, tossing and turning sleeplessly. I am deeply ashamed of such vile conduct, but it seems only this way will Zhaozhao willingly stay by my side."
Shen Yinning lowered her head, her fingertips pressing in with a grim intensity.
Her disheveled hair covered her pale face, tears like broken pearls fell one by one onto the brocade quilt.
Her body screamed for desire.
Every fiber seemed to urge her to go to the window, to submit to the malevolent ghost, to be with him.
Suddenly, she emitted a cry of anguish, like a white crane with broken wings.
Fueled by rage, she threw all the soft pillows and brocade quilts from the bed onto the floor.
Still not appeased, she tore the costly thin gauze canopy to shreds in a fit of anger, stumbling barefoot through her boudoir, overturning tables and chairs, shattering teapots, even toppling the bookshelf filled with antique objets d’art.
A lantern hit the ground, and the emerging orange-red flame quickly consumed the painted lantern paper.
The palace maids arrived at the sound.
They dared not look up but hurriedly cleaned up the mess and prepared new items before retreating with a curtsy.
The boudoir was renewed.
Only Shen Yinning knelt on the floor in disarray, her inner garments damp with sweat, outlining her graceful figure.
Fine beads of cold sweat appeared on her forehead, wetting her hair at the temples, sticking closely against her cheek, the black hue stark against her snow-white skin. Her lips were like a frozen cherry in the winter snow, extremely vibrant and full, her breathing labored, her lips quivering slightly, tempting one to taste the cherry’s sweetness.
She endured the entire day, blood in her veins seemingly boiling, every limb and bone clamoring for thirst.
She was desperately thirsty, as if walking through the desert day and night, unable to quench the burning flame in her throat despite countless swallows.
Eager to quench her thirst, by any means...
Her nostrils were filled with Lu Ying’s masculine scent.
Shen Yinning was lost in desire, her cheeks burning red, her mind almost delirious.
She swallowed her dry throat, crawling inch by inch toward Lu Ying along the newly laid dark red Persian carpet.
Her pale, slender hand reached up to Lu Ying’s black boot.
In the dim boudoir, Lu Ying leaned back in his chair, looking down at her.
Shen Yinning lifted her head.
Her dark hair fell like a waterfall, her face half-hidden behind her long hair, resembling a rain-drenched pear blossom in a drunken spring, her eyes terrifyingly red, a streak of red spreading across her dark temples, like flowers blooming to their fullest.
She trembled as she spoke, her eyes clouded with mist: "How dare you treat me this way..."
Lu Ying’s upper face was shadowed by the window lattice.
He curved his lips, his voice gentle: "I can’t live without Zhaozhao."
Shen Yinning climbed onto his leg.
He was skilled like a seasoned warrior, the muscle lines on his legs taut and firm, with no excess flesh.
Through the thin fabric, he distinctly felt Shen Yinning’s warmth.
She willingly settled into his embrace, pressing her fingertip against his narrow waist, her other hand curling around his neck, their breaths entwining and enticing one another, his intense cedar cold scent tearing her senses asunder like a storm, she closed her eyes, recklessly kissing his thin lips.
The woman in his arms was burning, like a flame.
Lu Ying lazily spread his legs open, his broad hand wrapping around her waist, allowing her to wreak havoc in his embrace.
The garments fell to the floor.
Finally united, Shen Yinning leaned on his shoulder, breathing gently, yet it still wasn’t enough.
She cried with no understanding of control.
Lu Ying twirled a strand of her long hair around his fingertip: "Beg me."
Her nails viciously dug into the man’s back, her vermilion lips tightly pressed, struggling to capture a sliver of reason amidst a sea of distraction, persistently refusing to speak.
Lu Ying let out an ambiguous chuckle.
Shen Yinning clung tightly to his sleeve.
After a long moment’s deliberation, she finally closed her flushed eyes, her voice trembling almost beyond comprehension: "I beg you..."
Her unruly hair fell, obscuring her face.
Lu Ying casually brushed aside the strands, grasping her chin, forcing her to lift her head.
His voice was nearly cruel: "Beg who?"
Tears trickled down, falling hotly onto the man’s hand.
Shen Yinning swallowed her resentment: "Pleads Your Majesty’s mercy..."
Before the final word had fallen, Lu Ying deeply kissed her lips.
Several rounds of passion.
Lu Ying found a ball of red silk thread from somewhere, tightly wrapping it around both their hands, pulling her back sharply if she showed any sign of escape, so cruel and demented as if never to allow her to break free.
Not until the moon hung high did he finally lift her up crosswise, striding towards the bed.
Tangled to the point of death.
...
The next day.
Shen Yinning woke at noon, and there was no one beside her.
She reached up to touch the corner of her mouth.
It was still sore from where Lu Ying had bitten her last night.
Haitang led the little palace maids in to attend her washing and dressing, not daring to look at her expression, speaking cautiously: "Your Majesty said the Commandery Princess is allowed to meet the Princely Heir today."