Volume 1, Chapter 34: Stay With Me

The man’s kiss descended with lethal intensity. It was direct, profound, and ferocious, devoid of any prelude or warming up. His aura was so overbearing that it allowed her not even a sliver of resistance.

In an instant, it felt as though a sponge had been shoved into Shu Wan’s throat; her oxygen and breath were sucked away, leaving her utterly unable to gasp for air. Before his aggression and dominance, her sharpness and defiance seemed so fragile and vulnerable.

Meng Huaijin shifted his grip from her neck to her jaw, forcing her to open her mouth and endure the tidal force of his strength—to endure the anger that had driven him to abandon his grand engagement banquet and rush here from a thousand miles away.

His teeth ground repeatedly against the small patch of skin she had bitten raw just moments before. Laden with the dust-choked rain and his unique, intoxicating scent, his kiss was reckless, devoid of even a shred of tenderness. He was punishing her for her audacity, for her reckless courage, and for her suicidal madness. If she wanted to cry, he would let her cry until she had her fill.

"Uncle..."

Shu Wan’s lips were trapped by his, stained entirely with his chilled breath. The place she had bitten earlier was gnawed upon by him so relentlessly that a searing pain electrified her very bones. Meng Huaijin seemed not to hear her, controlling her amidst the storm.

His calloused hands roamed over the only soft parts of her body. There was the sound of fabric tearing. A cold wind pierced her pores, and the frigid rain lashed directly against her skin.

"Uncle... Uncle... I beg you, not here."

The Nameless Monument stood right before them. It truly could not be here; it must not... Under the man’s fanatical, barbaric kisses and his coarse, direct movements, Shu Wan finally broke into sobs. It was a heart-wrenching cry that seemed to shake the very mountains.

"Now you know fear? What is it? Are you afraid to kiss me in front of them? Or are you afraid to make love to me in front of them?"

Meng Huaijin released her momentarily. The gloom in his eyes did not dissipate; instead, it grew even more obscured than the drifting mist. The girl’s mind was a chaotic blur; she could only shake her head and weep. "...I beg you."

"You still dare to call me Uncle at a time like this? Shu Wan, you’re crying too soon."

The man gripped her waist fiercely once more, pulled the tattered fabric up to cover her chest, bent down to scoop her up, and, casting a single expressionless glance at the nameless headstone, walked toward the parked car.

The downpour continued, and the mountains were deserted. Over the few hundred meters from the cemetery to the car, Shu Wan’s five-foot-six frame felt like a mere figurine in the arms of the tall, imposing man. Along the way, she barely managed to draw a breath, remaining suffocated by his frantic, relentless kisses. Only now did she fully grasp that her own attempts at kissing him earlier had been nothing more than a fleeting touch—not even a mere appetizer.

When the car door opened and Shu Wan was tossed onto the back seat, there was barely anything left of her clothing.

His formal wear, aside from being soaked through, remained as smooth as if it hadn't a single wrinkle. Shu Wan shivered from the cold, clutching her bare arms as she curled inward. "Uncle, I’m cold."

Meng Huaijin climbed in after her, slammed the door shut with a thud, tore off his tie, and stared straight at her. "Don't call me that."

"Uncle, I’m cold."

The man narrowed his eyes, sat upright, and dragged her onto his lap, staring directly at her charms, her allure, and the milk-white, translucent honesty of her bared form.

"You still came to find me," Shu Wan said, meeting his ferocity head-on and voicing what was in her heart.

Meng Huaijin gave a dark, inscrutable smile. He gripped the back of her neck again, slamming her against his chest, his eyes as deep as a vortex. "Then do you remember? I told you that if you dared to act recklessly with yourself, I would surely destroy you this time. I keep my word..."

"Uncle..."

In the moment her vision lost focus, Shu Wan stared at him unblinkingly, obsessed and reckless of her own life.

The waves crashed; each surge higher than the last. The rain grew heavier, drumming into the mud pits like the marks he left upon her—painful, scorching, and profound. His brutality, his savagery, his rage, his deep and ruthless eyes, and the sweat at his temples were all woven into the rise and fall of Shu Wan’s weeping.

Soon, the car turned into a steam-filled furnace, the windows clouded with the heat of their rapid breathing. She was pressed against the glass, leaving behind deep imprints of her fingers...

*Uncle—*

She called out to him, again and again.

He offered a harsh warning, forbidding her to speak the name. She wanted to hold him, but she was powerless. Yet, she loved him as he was in this moment—loved him until even breathing was a source of pain, much like her own state of mind: suffering and happy all at once, floating on the clouds, in another dimension.

*Uncle—*

Meng Huaijin squeezed her waist, forced her to turn, raised a hand to hook her chin, and stared at her swollen eyes and lips, at the crimson teardrop mole beneath her eye. He leaned down and whispered a warning into her ear: "Shu Wan, dare to call me that one more time, and I will love you to death."

She was incredibly flexible, and turning at a difficult angle, she leaned in to whisper into his ear, her voice as light as a breeze: "Then let me die, Uncle."

Shu Wan regretted it; if she could simply die, it would be an end to it all. But what he gave her was a fate worse than death.

The torrential rain lasted for two hours. When it ended, the exterior of the car windows was splattered with a thick layer of mud, mirroring the countless handprints left on the inside. Shu Wan lay on the leather seat, still trembling from time to time. Beneath the man’s oversized coat, she was completely bare, and there was no longer a single inch of her skin as pristine as jade; it was covered in bruises—blue, purple, red, and swollen.

Her voice was too hoarse to speak, and her eyelids were too heavy to keep open, but Shu Wan stubbornly refused to sleep, just watching the man beside her.

He was still wearing his wet clothes, though his suit jacket was long gone, and only two buttons remained on his shirt. Some had been torn off by him because they were in the way; others had been ripped off by Shu Wan in the throes of her weeping.

Meng Huaijin cracked a window, his chest wide open, leaving his solid, ferocious abdominal muscles exposed to the air. Even as he smoked his post-coital cigarette, his expression was solemn and wild. He rarely looked at Shu Wan; only when she whimpered from touching a bruise and reached out to soothe it would he cast a warning glance, then rummage through the first-aid kit, find an ointment from his friend’s car, and silently apply it to her without a word.

After the two-and-a-half-hour conquest, Shu Wan felt both love and hate for him. She hated that he could truly be so heartless, showing her no mercy in their intimacy, nearly destroying her.

In the silence, Shu Wan tried to tug on his hand—the one not holding the cigarette. Seeing he didn't refuse, she pulled it over and tucked it under her cheek, hoping to pillow her head and sleep. Unexpectedly, she caught the scent of herself on his fingertips. Her face flushed fiery red, and she pursed her lips, brushing his hand away.

Meng Huaijin twitched his lips, held the cigarette between his middle and index fingers, opened a bottle of mineral water, and rinsed his hand out the window.

Only after he finished did Shu Wan pull his hand back under her cheek, asking in a voice so hoarse it was barely a whisper, "It’s only been two hours. How did you get here?"

He flicked away the cigarette butt, rolled up the window, and gave a concise answer: "Private jet."

*A private jet!!!*

The girl blinked, suddenly remembering that the Meng family had an heir as wealthy as a nation, Meng Tingzhou, and everything made sense.

The hand Meng Huaijin had just rinsed began to warm up against her flushed, chubby cheek, eventually growing hot. The man took the opportunity to gently pinch her cheek, looking down at her, lost in thought.

They had just experienced a hearty, unspeakable intimacy, both of them stained with the other's scent, branded with marks that would never fade.

Shu Wan looked at him steadily for a long time, then softly called out, "Uncle—"

The waterproof phone in his pocket vibrated for the hundredth time. Meng Huaijin reached in, silenced it, and acknowledged her.

Her gaze lingered on his vibrating pocket for a moment, then Shu Wan rubbed her cheek against his calloused palm and asked, "Are you going back now?"

Meng Huaijin did not answer.

"Stay with me," she stated.

"How?" he asked, his tone indifferent.

Shu Wan tried to sit up, and the man reached out to support her. The girl collapsed into his arms, her chest pressed against his, her smooth arms hooked around his powerful neck. When she looked at him, her swollen eyes were misty, her gaze like a hook, like the moon:

"Let’s steal another day of love, shall we?"