Chapter 52: Attention

“Are you in pain?”

The sharp pain in his wrist made tiny beads of sweat form on Yu Zhu’s forehead. His body slid slightly, unsteady, though his left hand remained firmly held against the wall by Xia Qingyi.

“You’ve chosen to degrade yourself, Ruan Xihe. This is what you deserve.”

“Pretending to be so innocent and virtuous—isn’t that just so you can stay in this cage longer?”

“Do you even realize how shameless you’ve become?”

Xia Qingyi used her other hand to support Yu Zhu’s sliding body, burying her head against his neck.

It wasn’t the lingering, faint orange blossom scent. Instead, a fresh, light grass-like fragrance reached his nose, a smell like endless sun-scorched grasslands.

“You’re constantly enticing me.”

“When I caught you kissing Ruan Suhua, your eyes never left me. Excited? Ashamed? Afraid?”

“None of those,” she murmured.

“You were sincerely inviting me.”

“You never resist her, willingly letting her do whatever she wants. Even now, you don’t resist me.”

“Why is it that, just as I wish, you feel pain instead?”

Yu Zhu’s vision was filled with her wine-red strands of hair. The old pain in his wrist dulled his consciousness, making it hard to hear her words pressed against his neck.

Since that day in the rehabilitation room with the courtyard of Begonias, Xia Qingyi’s hatred and desire had accumulated like rain filling a jar, until the waterline overflowed today, breaking together with that jar.

“You’re just someone who can be used by anyone…”

Her rough, hard teeth sank into a vein on Yu Zhu’s neck, her soft tongue sliding over the skin. The most primal act, yet in Yu Zhu’s vision, clusters of tiny fireworks exploded before his eyes.

Her hands pulled at his collar, exposing his skin, which flushed a deep pink like evening cherry blossoms. She knelt before him on the carpet, losing all reason, burying her head as she nibbled unclearly at that spot.

A sliver of light from the floor-to-ceiling window hit the corner of the room, landing perfectly on Yu Zhu’s exposed collar. Xia Qingyi’s mind shivered, forgetting everything, wetting the fabric with her mouth before gently pulling it aside so the light shone on his pinking skin.

“Ruan… ugh… Xihe…”

“Someone… who can be… used by anyone…”

“**.”

The pain in his left hand turned numb. The clock on the desk jumped to twenty past, and Yu Zhu’s eyes followed Xia Qingyi’s swaying wine-red hair.

Her hair seemed to darken to inky black, and past memories surged uncontrollably. He barely moved his left hand, letting the excruciating pain keep him awake.

The first time Yu Zhu saw Xia Qingyi, he noticed the depth in her eyes.

She had been hiding it well.

But that look—he had seen it too many times.

After that day in the rehabilitation room, she had grown more disdainful of pretense. Her makeup became refined and gorgeous. She no longer masked her words with polite conversation about “good friends.” Behind closed doors, she wrote outrageous, lewd, humiliating things on paper.

She was like a balloon being blown into, until it reached a critical point and would “pop.”

Yu Zhu had given her that critical point.

Xia Qingyi completely forgot she was still in the study. Her vivid red lipstick smeared on Yu Zhu’s neck, one hand groping him recklessly.

Her fingers struggled into the seams of his buttons, brushing his skin through the thin shirt. He paused his breath for a moment.

“Thud!”

The next second, a loud crash.

Xia Qingyi was kicked straight into the cold corner of the wall.

She didn’t have time to speak, collapsing unconscious on the floor, completely out.

“Xihe—” A panicked shout rang out.

The pressure and restraint disappeared. Yu Zhu’s tense consciousness slackened. He groggily lifted his head to see Ruan Suhua rushing in.

“It’s okay now. It’s okay, Xihe.”

“It’s okay.”

Ruan Suhua’s face was grim. She gritted her teeth and crouched before him, looking at the boy drenched in sweat, his gaze unfocused.

His left hand hung unnaturally again, his collar torn open, wet with a mixture of saliva and lipstick, dripping down.

“It’s okay now, Xihe. Everything’s fine.”

All words felt pale and powerless in that moment. Ruan Suhua didn’t know what to say, only repeating reassurance.

She had only gone to fetch the stationery Yu Zhu had forgotten. Who would have known, when she returned, she would find this heart-stopping scene?

She pulled him into her arms. Yu Zhu trembled violently, forcing her to hold him even tighter.

“It’s okay now, Xihe. Everything’s fine.”

A maid who followed Ruan Suhua closed the door, shielding the scene from the other servants outside.

“Miss, what should we do with her?”

Earlier, Ruan Suhua had not held back, kicking Xia Qingyi to the corner. Her head still bled warm blood that ran down through her hair.

“Drag her out later. Don’t let her step foot in the villa again.” Ruan Suhua carefully brushed Yu Zhu’s sweat-damp hair aside and lifted him.

“Inform the others. I don’t want to see her anywhere in the Imperial City. If anyone dares to shelter her, they will bear the consequences.”

She would not allow such a thing to happen again.

“Yes, Miss. I’ll handle it immediately.”

The maid followed Ruan Suhua out of the study.

By the time Yu Zhu regained consciousness, it was already the next morning.

The morning sun was gentle and bright. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up against the headboard.

His left hand was once again in a plaster cast, tied in Ruan Suhua’s usual not-so-neat butterfly knot.

She still slept beside him. On the bedside table lay a thick copy of Social Psychology, suggesting that no new psychologist would come to the villa for the time being.

Yu Zhu shifted his gaze to the sunlight outside.

What happened to Xia Qingyi afterward no longer concerned him. He had other matters to attend to.

“Xihe, you’re awake? Feeling better? Do you want some water?” Ruan Suhua asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes, her hair messy, her voice slightly husky.

Yu Zhu shook his head.

“Xihe, I’ll go wash up first. Wait for me, okay?”

She stood, leaving the room in a hurry.

Yu Zhu watched her back, recalling the numbers on the clock yesterday.

She had come later than expected.

But… it didn’t matter.

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