Chu Wanning lay there, fully dressed, his long hair spread loosely about him. At first, his expression was dazed and insensate, and some time passed before Mo Ran’s reflection slowly appeared in his eyes. Chu Wanning hesitated. Then, as if still caught in the clutches of his nightmare, unable to discern when and where he was, he slowly reached out with a hand that for a moment paused in midair, and at last touched Mo Ran’s brow.
“It was I who wronged you…” He spoke the words with an uncharacteristic gentleness, the way he had in their past life.
Something inside Mo Ran collapsed with a resonant boom. Blood boiling and head feverish, all the sense and rationality he had worked so hard to retrieve fell apart in an instant. Without thinking about any of it, he gave in to that familiar desire. He leaned down and ravenously captured those slightly parted lips with his own.
The past came crashing back in a wave, melting their surroundings away like snow and frost. Mo Ran felt as if he were back at Wushan Palace amidst silky red satin, illuminated by the light of candles gilded with dragon and phoenix. Beneath that crimson drapery, this man was struggling and spitting curses, panting and humiliated yet unable to escape, helpless against his unyielding grasp.
“Nn…”
The noise that Chu Wanning let out between the slides of warm wetness drove Mo Ran mad. All those words about not liking him, hating him, and never touching him again, all of them vaporized into thin air.
Mo Ran felt as if he had never yet died—that the lightly quivering body beneath his still belonged to him. He wanted to kiss Chu Wanning, to hold him, to humiliate and torment him until this lofty, immaculate man was unable to take it anymore. Until he was crying and begging, fucked into oblivion.
“Chu Wanning…” Mo Ran murmured hoarsely. A wave of heat rolled through him, washing over his very soul. Even the tips of his fingers felt like they had caught flame.
Once again, he closed his lips over that cool, soft pair, which still tasted slightly of the bitter medicine. The beating of his heart was like the thunder of drums inside his chest as he kissed with abandon, mad with desire. Mo Ran knew this person through and through. Since his rebirth, he had been loath to be intimate with Chu Wanning because of the resentment he harbored toward him, but kissing him now was pure ecstasy.
It was a high so intense that it ate away at him, like the first taste of sweet dew on the tongue of a traveler dying of thirst in the desert, like being enveloped in the soft warmth of a fur coat heated over a fire in the bitter cold of a freezing night.
Mo Ran had thought that he would surely have nothing to do with Chu Wanning in this reborn life. He hadn’t expected to ultimately succumb to his desires, to be driven to lose control after a mere few words, to kiss him like this.
If it were not for the fact that he couldn’t get Chu Wanning’s robes open—and in trying to do so was pricked by something that fell out of his shizun’s robes—Mo Ran might have given in and taken Chu Wanning right then and there without any thought, consequences be damned.
Clang!
Something metallic pricked Mo Ran’s finger and fell on the bed. It rolled a little before coming to a stop.
Mo Ran was far too turned on to mind the scratch. He only threw an irritated glare at the object before turning back to Chu Wanning’s ridiculous robes. It was one thing when he kept his distance and didn’t touch him, but now that he was on top of his shizun, the feelings from his past life came rushing back. The mere thought of how Chu Wanning’s smooth, narrow waist had felt under his hands made him unbearably hot and heavy.
But Chu Wanning’s silken white robes were impossible to remove, almost like they had been enchanted with some kind of spell. Mo Ran cursed under his breath and slammed his fist against the headboard before resentfully climbing off the bed to go fetch his blade. He would make short work of that thrice-wrapped belt sash.
As he sat up, he saw the fallen metallic object out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t pay it any mind at first, but then a bolt of clarity flashed through his arousal-addled mind.
Mo Ran stilled. His head snapped around to take another look at that thing.
It was a golden hair clasp, vibrantly colorful and decorated with orchids and butterflies—the very same one that he had bought for Xia Sini at Peach Blossom Springs after days of saving up feathers.
He had personally pinned it to Xia Sini’s ponytail to cheer up his sullen little shidi, saying, “Little kids should wear lively colors like red and gold.”
Mo Ran picked up the hair clasp. He stared at it in a stupor, feeling like he had been doused with cold water. Hang on… What did this mean? Why would Chu Wanning have something that Mo Ran had given to Xia Sini?
Could it be…
A frightening thought crossed Mo Ran’s mind. He turned around slowly, and his gaze, still dark with desire, landed on Chu Wanning. His shizun had passed out again. Mo Ran stared at his face, taking in those lips reddened from his kisses, and his heart skipped a few beats.
No way, absolutely not. He had to be out of his mind… Was Chu Wanning not just messing with him? Was… Was…Xia Sini seriously Chu Wanning’s son?
Mo Ran shuddered at the thought. His head was about to explode!