Chapter 25: Tangled Bonds and Unspoken Desires

“Worthy or not, we’re not planning a wedding. Do we need to talk about matching status?”
Chen Yanxing’s response drew a cold laugh from Shen Mengke, who closed her eyes.

She was escaping—escaping Chen Yanxing, escaping every question, escaping the world.
She stayed silent, and so did Chen Yanxing. The club’s chaotic noise swirled around them, but their small corner felt like a sealed barrier, muting the outside world.
Their silence stretched, breaths growing heavier, hearts beating erratically.

“You know what this place is?”
Chen Yanxing’s earlier question echoed in Shen’s mind. She knew—how could she not?
The club made no pretense. From the moment she started drinking, people approached, drawn to her.
Shen reveled in her allure but felt uneasy in this environment. Then Chen Yanxing appeared, and in this chaotic space, her presence inexplicably brought Shen a sense of safety.

Chen Yanxing had come for her, contract in hand. Unlike past “chance” encounters where Chen Yanxing pulled out contracts like magic tricks, this time, Shen was her target.
Shen didn’t know how Chen Yanxing found her—tracking, surveillance, it didn’t matter. Some questions she didn’t want answered; knowing would mean tearing off masks, ending things messily.

The bottle lifted from Shen’s shoulder, clinking against the table. The sudden lightness felt like a seal breaking. Shen’s eyes snapped open, meeting Chen Yanxing’s.
Caught off guard, Chen Yanxing’s emotions spilled through her gaze, unguarded, laid bare.
Shen smirked provocatively. “I know exactly what this place is. The question is…” Her free hand grazed Chen Yanxing’s lips, sliding slowly down her neck, past her chest, to her abdomen, where her fingers teased lightly. “Can you handle it?”
Chen Yanxing grabbed Shen’s wandering hand, her other hand, bound by the handcuff, weaving her fingers forcefully through Shen’s.
Shen flinched, surprised, but Chen Yanxing ignored her resistance, gripping their hands tightly together.
A tingling jolt shot from Shen’s fingers to her heart, spreading through her body. She trembled, staring at their intertwined hands.
Chen Yanxing pinned Shen’s hand to the sofa. Under the lights, Shen saw only Chen Yanxing’s hand—veins stark, pale as if untouched by light, almost vampiric.
Yet it was strong, unyielding. No matter how Shen struggled, she couldn’t break free.
Exhausted, she relented, looking up at the woman pinning her down.

The moment their eyes met, Chen Yanxing looked away, as if her gaze hid lies, too guilty to hold Shen’s stare.

“What did Chen Xingxing say to you?” Chen Yanxing asked.
From Shen’s mention of “Chen family,” Chen Yanxing knew her twin was involved. Their family was small—Shen could only mean Chen Xingxing.
She was giving Shen a chance to explain, but Shen refused. Looking at Chen Yanxing, she yanked her pinned hand free and grabbed Chen Yanxing’s chin, forcing their eyes to lock.
In that moment, Chen Yanxing’s emotions had nowhere to hide. From the moment they met, the fire in her eyes had grown, and now, as they locked gazes, it ignited the air, the entire club.

Shen kissed her. In the club, in the open, on the sofa.
In this half-public, half-private corner, they kissed recklessly, lost in each other.
Shen’s hands climbed Chen Yanxing’s back, pulling her closer, as if to envelop her. Chen Yanxing shifted, straddling Shen’s legs.

Did Chen Xingxing’s words matter? Not now.
Nothing mattered in this moment.

Fueled by alcohol, softened music, and the club’s ambiguous haze, Chen Yanxing kissed Shen tenderly, reverently.
Their clasped hands gripped tighter, as if holding a priceless gem, desperate to meld it into their very bones.
Shen frowned, a soft hum escaping, quickly swallowed.
It was wildly abnormal, but when had Chen Yanxing ever been normal? Neither yielded, turning a gentle kiss into a vessel for all their unspoken emotions.
A kiss was magic—wordless, raw, blending flesh and feeling, fusing a spectrum of emotions.
Black, red, pink, yellow…

Their positions flipped. Shen sat on Chen Yanxing’s lap, her back now to the room.
Shen smiled, her free hand tracing Chen Yanxing’s features. “Good thing you don’t look like her. Otherwise…”
She trailed off, stopping perfectly.
Chen Yanxing chuckled softly. “For twenty years, I’ve been grateful for that.”
“Big sister, what do you want to play tonight?”

Shen sighed, leaning into Chen Yanxing, her hands tugging playfully at Chen Yanxing’s shirt.
“I want to play with you…”

Drunk on wine and the club’s clamor, unease and joy intertwined, a delicate tension blooming between them.
The handcuffs ended up binding both of Shen’s wrists behind her back. Kneeling on Chen Yanxing’s lap, her face flushed with desire, her eyes hazy, misted. She couldn’t see clearly anymore.
She sensed people circling, watching, as if she were a performance. Lights formed halos, floating before her eyes.
Her lips parted, exhaling shakily. Shame surged—she’d never felt so exposed.
She closed her eyes, lips tight, head bowed as if to escape.
Her hair fell forward, revealing the nape of her neck. Chen Yanxing’s gaze darkened.

Without sight, Shen’s other senses sharpened. A sudden vibration made her tremble, pleasure spiking, breaking her sealed lips with a lingering moan.
She frowned, lifting her head.
Tears welled, sliding down her cheeks, trailing her neck, pooling at her collarbone.
It was like a shimmering pond, reflecting the lights, mirroring Shen’s desires, and sinking into Chen Yanxing’s eyes.
Chen Yanxing licked her dry lips, pouring herself a glass of liquor. The burn seared her throat, fueling the fire already stirring within.

Their images seemed to overlap. Chen Yanxing watched Shen on her lap, biting a plastic packet.
Shen glared, half-ashamed, half-furious, but leaned forward, biting the packet’s other end.
Their noses brushed, and with a slight tug, a soft rip sounded. A small, round object rolled into Chen Yanxing’s hand.

Chen Yanxing released the packet, leaving it dangling from Shen’s lips.
Shen stared at the object, lips tight, caught between fear and shame.

“Need help?” Chen Yanxing asked, not waiting for an answer, her hand already moving.
Unlike a pampered heiress, her hands were calloused—not rough, but firm.

Shen’s face flushed, the plastic packet crinkling as she bit down, a stifled moan escaping as it fell onto Chen Yanxing.

Their sounds merged, Shen’s reddened eyes impossibly captivating.

After a while, Shen’s breathing steadied. She opened her eyes, vision blurred by mist, but clear enough to see Chen Yanxing, the room.
No one was watching—her shame had conjured the crowd.
She was embarrassed, mortified, never having bared her desires publicly. She was afraid.

But in this indulgent, gentlemanly place, where rules were unspoken yet sacred, no one cared if someone made love in a corner. Everyone had their own pursuits, their own pleasures, uninterested in others’ partners or actions.

As the mist cleared, Shen saw Chen Yanxing’s unguarded desire and smirked triumphantly.
Look—she might be flawed, but someone would always fall for her.
Shen found release through Chen Yanxing, who, in turn, reached her own peak through Shen’s surrender.

Shen glanced at the glass in Chen Yanxing’s hand. “Drinking alone? What’s the fun in that?”
Her voice was hoarse, though she hadn’t strained it.
Perhaps her inner screams had echoed through her body.

Drinking alone was dull. Chen Yanxing poured another glass, holding it to Shen’s lips.
Shen’s eyes stayed on her, sipping lightly, but before she could taste it, Chen Yanxing gripped her neck, forcing a large gulp down.
Tears sprang to Shen’s eyes. Before she could swallow, Chen Yanxing pried her lips open with a kiss.
Their tongues met, liquor spilling, dripping onto Chen Yanxing. Shen choked, then glared, her wet eyes blazing, but seeing Chen Yanxing’s flushed cheeks, her anger dissolved.

“This is how you drink,” Chen Yanxing said.