"And what?"

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Before she could finish, Wang Xiao stepped inside, slow and deliberate, the door clicking softly shut behind him—like a hunter locking in his prey.

"??"

Jiarong froze. Her lips parted, but no words came out as he stalked closer.

Without warning—

Puchi!

"Ah—!"

Her voice strangled as Wang Xiao pinched her cheeks, forcing her into a ridiculous pout. Her wide eyes blinked furiously, the indignity of it all leaving her speechless.

Wang Xiao chuckled, his voice low, teasing. "See? You can’t even fight back anymore."

He held her there, savoring her disbelieving expression, flushed cheeks, and helpless glare. Finally, he let go, leaving her blinking and fuming.

"...!"

Jiarong swatted his arm away hard, rolling her eyes so far back they nearly stayed there. "Get out! Or do I have to kick you out?"

Wang Xiao blinked, his face unreadable for a second before a slow, knowing smile tugged at his lips.

"Hmmm… Let me think."

Voice dripping laziness, he turned, hands stuffed into his pockets as he wandered around the room. His sharp gaze swept over every corner like he was inspecting something fascinating.

Jiarong stood stiff, arms crossed tightly, tracking his every move.

What’s he doing?

"Xiao," she muttered warily, narrowing her eyes. "What are you doing?"

He paused, turning back to her slowly. That glint of mischief danced in his gaze, sharp and playful.

"Nothing," he said, smile sly. "Just thinking… it’s been years since we had time alone, hasn’t it? Don’t you think? I wonder…"

His gaze a moment too long, sweeping over her from head to toe.

"…if you’ve grown up."

"Grown up?"

Wang Jiarong repeated, her brows knitting together as she glared at him. Of course she’d grown up—it had been seven years since they last spent any real time together. Back then, she’d been seventeen, naïve and wide-eyed. Now, at twenty-five, she was a full-grown woman. Independent. Mature.

But Wang Xiao…

Her gaze flicked over him. He wasn’t that boy anymore either. The awkward kid she remembered had vanished, replaced by a man whose presence filled the room like a storm cloud—confident, infuriating, and… unsettling.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she muttered, frowning.

Wang Xiao’s smile deepened, sharp and deliberate. He stepped closer, the space between them vanishing, his eyes gleaming with mischief and something far darker.

"Remove the blanket. I want to see."

"…Eh?"

She froze. Did she hear that right? Her head shot up, eyes wide with disbelief. "What did you just say?"

Her fingers clutched the blanket tighter, as though his words alone could strip her bare.

Wang Xiao didn’t repeat himself. He didn’t need to. That look—steady, unblinking, intent—said everything.

Her heart stumbled, heat flooding her cheeks as she stammered, "Y-You—"

He tilted his head, his voice calm and casual. "When I carried you in earlier, I noticed something… strange on your body. Take off the blanket. I’ll show you."

Her panic faltered. His words were serious, his gaze glued somewhere around her abdomen.

"Oh…"

Jiarong exhaled shakily. So it’s just that. Reluctantly, her grip on the blanket loosened. She tugged it away, slow and deliberate, until it slid to the floor.

For a heartbeat, the room went still.

Wang Xiao’s gaze swept over her—long, slow, unabashed.

The moonlight brushed against her skin, her smooth, pale shoulders glowing faintly. Her loose white tank top did nothing to hide her figure—oversized enough to drape, tight enough to hint. Her waist curved in effortlessly, flowing into an hourglass shape that seemed too perfect for someone pretending not to care.

And those legs…

Her shorts clung high against her thighs, leaving little to imagination, creamy skin stretching endlessly down. He could tell it wasn’t intentional. That only made it worse.

Wang Xiao’s brow lifted, amusement dancing across his face. Trying to hide your charms? You’re failing spectacularly.

"Well?" Jiarong’s voice echoed, sharp and impatient. "Show me where it is already."

The edge in her tone couldn’t hide the flush spreading across her cheeks—or the way her skin prickled under his stare.

Wang Xiao snapped out of his trance, his lips curling faintly in dark amusement as he stepped closer.

"Of course," he murmured, softer this time, almost… thoughtful.

His gaze found her face—smooth, pale, delicate. Her features were vivid, striking even when pinched in suspicion. And those eyes—deep, defiant—held a fire that only made her beauty harder to ignore.

He studied her silently, the words he wouldn’t say: If she weren’t my sister, she’d be the kind of woman who’d drive men insane...

But this wasn’t about beauty. Something else at the back of his mind.

Over the years, women had been nothing to him. Thousands had come and gone—some taken by force, others willingly thrown into his hands, desperate to please him. And in the end, they were all the same. Fleeting satisfaction. A moment of indulgence before they faded into insignificance.

But now?

This felt different.

There was a knot in his chest—a strange, suffocating pull he couldn’t name. It was that same hesitation he’d felt years ago, back when his hands hovered over Wenxi and Yue for the first time. They’d flinched instinctively, and for a heartbeat, he had hesitated too, caught off guard by the strange pull tugging at his heart.

But those two were his. His daughters. He owned them, controlled them completely, and whatever he did, it was his choice.

The only risk had been whether they’d cry.

Jiarong?

She wouldn’t cry. She’d fight. She’d resist, curse him, slap him across the face with all the fire in her veins.

The thought almost made him laugh—low and bitter—though the sound died in his throat before it escaped.

Why am I even thinking about this?

For the first time in years, Wang Xiao’s thoughts scattered—unfocused, clouded by something dangerously close to hesitation.

He despised it.

So, like a man chasing clarity, he acted.

Before she could blink, Wang Xiao closed the gap between them. His hand shot up, fingers tangling into her damp hair, gripping tight and holding her head in place.

"What are you—?"

Her startled voice barely left her lips before his mouth crashed onto hers.

"Mmph!"

Her muffled protest vibrated against him, sharp and panicked. Wang Xiao’s lips moved against hers—dominant—tilting her head as he forced her mouth open.

And then his tongue invaded.

Slck—

The wet, obscene sound of his tongue curling against hers made her eyes shoot open in shock. Every nerve in her body screamed in alarm, her entire form tensing like a coiled spring. He wasn’t gentle. His tongue claimed her mouth with greed, brushing, tasting, forcing itself deeper as if marking every inch as his.

"Nngh—! Stop!"

Her muffled cry was frantic, her hands shoving against his chest with desperate strength. But she was still weak—clumsy—and Wang Xiao didn’t budge. His grip tightened in her hair, holding her still as he deepened the kiss even further.

Her struggle only seemed to amuse him more.

Slck. Slrp.

The filthy sounds echoed like a slow, deliberate rhythm, each one twisting Jiarong’s stomach tighter. Rage and humiliation flared in her chest, but something darker stirred beneath it—something she refused to name. Her legs wobbled, her arms trembling uselessly as they pressed against him.

Why is this happening?!

Why can’t I stop him?!

Her body ignored her mind’s desperate screams, her breath stolen by the force of his mouth—suffocating.

And then—SNAP!

Something inside her shattered.

Jiarong tore her head back with all the strength she had, breaking free of his hold.

"Hah—!"

She gasped, choking on air, her chest heaving violently. Her lips burned, slick with his saliva, the taste of him still clinging to her tongue—a mix of faint bitterness and something unnervingly warm.

Her furious, wide eyes locked onto him.

"You—!"

Before she knew it, she lunged forward again.

CRACK!

Her forehead smashed into his, the impact ringing through the room like a gunshot.

Wang Xiao staggered back, hissing sharply as his hand flew to his forehead. "Tch—!" His red eyes flickered with irritation and surprise, but that smile never fully disappeared.

Jiarong didn’t care.

She wiped furiously at her mouth, her palm coming back slick with saliva. Tears stung her eyes—burning, humiliated tears. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "You’re disgusting!"

Wang Xiao straightened slowly, his smirk fading into something sharper—colder. The mark on his forehead was already gone, as though her resistance meant nothing.

"Don’t come near me again!" she shouted, pointing a trembling finger at him. "You’re drunk! Just get out—"

She didn’t finish.

Because he moved.

Wang Xiao lunged forward in a blur, his hand clamping around her wrists and yanking her toward him.

"!!"

A sharp cry broke from her lips as her body collided with his. She twisted and thrashed, but his strength was unyielding, pinning her completely.

"Let go! Xiao—!"

Her back slammed into the cold wall with a thud, her arms forced above her head. She gasped sharply, her chest rising and falling in panicked bursts as she stared up at him, wide-eyed.

"Xiao Wang… stop!"

Her voice cracked, her last word breaking into a helpless plea.

Wang Xiao over her, his face inches away, his red eyes trailing lazily from her flushed cheeks to the frantic rise and fall of her chest.

Then, his lips curled.

"You keep saying I’m drunk," he murmured, voice low, mocking—intimate in the worst way.

Jiarong’s breath turned cold, her pulse thundering in her ears.

"I’m not drunk," he whispered, tilting his head closer, his breath ghosting against her cheek, hot and unshakably steady. "But maybe you are."

"Get… away from me," she hissed, though her voice quivered, betraying her.

He ignored her. His grip loosened just enough to let his hand slide down, brushing against her trembling face before pinning her chin with a deceptively gentle touch.

"You’re trembling," he murmured darkly, his eyes gleaming. "And yet, you’re still here. Still in my hands."

Before she could scream, his other hand covered her mouth.

"Mmph—!"

Her muffled scream tore through the room as his hand pressed firm against her lips. Her eyes widened, panicked, but then—

Lick.

Her world tilted.

His tongue dragged slowly, obscenely up the side of her cheek, wet and heavy.

Her body jolted violently, a muffled scream vibrating against his palm. She felt everything—the slick heat of his tongue, the rough texture as it slid across her skin, the way it lingered purposefully at her neck before pulling away.

The taste of her—clean water, faint soap, and the light floral fragrance of her lingering body wash—intoxicating and maddening.

Wang Xiao’s chest rumbled softly with a chuckle. "You taste better than I imagined," he whispered, his voice tinged with satisfaction.

Her breathing turned frantic, her fists twisting helplessly against his hold, but her strength was nothing against him.

"Save your voice," he said softly, the words dripping with a chilling finality.

Then—

Tear. Tear. Tear.

The sound of her tank top ripping echoed like thunder in her ears.

Hiss~!

The icy air hit her bare skin, shocking her to her core as her mind splintered into a thousand pieces.