Chapter 90: Luo Shaotian’s Struggle

“Excuse me.” With a soft word of thanks, the apartment door clicked shut.

That light sound, like a switch, instantly severed all connection with the outside world—cutting off even the last trace of possibility for regret.

Luo Shaotian stood in the entryway without turning on the light.

His back faced the “trouble” he had brought home with his own hands. A powerful sense of regret welled up inside him.

He hated that feeling. It made him feel as if he had reverted back to that weak version of himself he despised.

“Um…”
A timid voice sounded behind him.
“…Do I need to change shoes?”

Luo Shaotian clicked his tongue in irritation and flicked on the wall lamp in the entryway.

The warm light dispelled the darkness and illuminated the girl’s face, making her pale complexion appear even more fragile from anxiety.

“Whatever.”
He kicked a pair of guest slippers out of the shoe cabinet, his tone cold and hard.

He maintained that coldness deliberately.

The girl obeyed with a soft “Oh,” and carefully removed her delicate leather shoes.

As she bent down, her dark blue pleated skirt lifted slightly, outlining her round curves. Beneath the hem, her calves—wrapped in black stockings—formed a taut, elegant arc.

Luo Shaotian’s Adam’s apple moved involuntarily. He immediately averted his gaze and looked around his apartment.

It wasn’t large—just a typical studio layout.

Open kitchen on the right, bathroom on the left, a living room connected to the balcony, and the single bedroom at the far end.

Small, but fully functional, and reasonably tidy.

Behind him, he could hear the soft tap, tap of slippers following his steps.

Quiet as the sound was, it struck his strained nerves like a drum.

He dropped heavily into the living room sofa, closed his eyes, and laid out the final rules for tonight’s ridiculous farce.

“Listen, kid.”

His voice was hoarse.

“This isn’t a shelter.”

“The sofa’s yours. Bathroom’s over there.”
He gestured with his chin.

“The bedroom is mine. Don’t touch my stuff, and absolutely don’t go into my room.”

“When it’s morning, you leave.”

He paused, then added:
“You’re only staying for one night.”

“Okay,” came her obedient reply.

Strange.

He thought she’d cry, or ask questions.

But her silence stirred an odd irritation inside his already chaotic heart.

Unable to resist, he opened his eyes and glanced at her.

She stood quietly, hands tightly clutching the hem of her skirt, head lowered.

The dim light traced her slender neck—her pale skin looking especially delicate against the dark sailor uniform.

Then Luo Shaotian’s gaze caught something around her neck.

An exquisitely made metal choker, adorned with small silver rivets and a device in the center that looked almost like a sensor.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at it.

“This is… for monitoring my physical condition…”
She seemed used to the question and answered without hesitation. Then, after a moment, she added:
“I… can’t take it off… My family… makes me wear it all the time…”

Oh.

He didn’t ask further, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the source of her conflict with her parents.

Probably strict parents versus a rebellious daughter. Something like that.

He smirked unconsciously and glanced again at the choker.

To be honest, it didn’t look like a health monitor at all.

It looked more like a subculture accessory—paired with her aristocratic school uniform, it gave her a strange, dissonant aura.

Like a little masochist…

The thought sent a warped, morbid pleasure through his already corrupted desire for control.

He suddenly realized that his inability to refuse this girl wasn’t just pity.

It was her eyes.

Those wet, pleading eyes that stirred something dark and sadistic deep inside him.

He wanted to know just how much fear those doe-like eyes—those cherry-blossom lips—could show.

“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly.

“…Lulu.”

“Lulu?”
He rolled the name around, frowning slightly.
He felt like he’d heard it before, but couldn’t place it.

After a moment’s thought, he pointed at the bathroom.

“Go shower. Clean towels and disposable underwear are on the shelf. I’ll have more delivered soon.”

“Huh?” she blinked, startled.

“What?” he raised an eyebrow.
“If you’re not going to shower, I’ll go first.”

“No… no!”
Her face flushed red. Hugging her arms like a frightened rabbit, she fidgeted for several seconds.
“I—I’ll go now!”

Watching her flee panicked into the bathroom, Luo Shaotian leaned back on the sofa and gave a quiet, ambiguous chuckle.

He took a long drink of beer. The cold liquid slid down his throat, but the heat rising in his abdomen didn’t fade at all.

Stick to your bottom line, he warned himself.

Soon, the sound of running water echoed from the bathroom, mist rising in waves.

A lone man and a young girl—this was exactly when the mind drifted toward dangerous fantasies.

Luo Shaotian was no exception. He tried scrolling on his phone to distract himself,

but possessive, intrusive images kept forcing their way into his mind.

The water continued—like a chant—drilling into his ears, eroding his rationality.

He glanced toward the bathroom.

A graceful silhouette was visible through the frosted glass.

She raised her arms to wash her hair, her slender limbs stretching, making the full curve of her chest sway lightly.

Every movement tugged at his gaze, making his agitation worsen.

Coward. Hypocrite.

The whispers in his mind grew clearer.

Look at you, Luo Shaotian.

Pathetic trash pretending to be a saint at a time like this? Ridiculous.

“Haa… haa…”
His breathing grew heavy, his muscles tensing uncontrollably.

The girl was right there—completely defenseless—utterly naked.

You could stand up right now. Walk to the door. Unlock it. Listen to her scream.

Those helpless eyes would be filled with terror… begging you.

His fists clenched, knuckles whitening.

Press her against the cold tiles. Use absolute strength to show her who owns this place.

Leave your marks all over her milky skin.

Let her understand how useless resistance is.

The voice grew soft, coaxing.

Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this how power should be used?

Stop lying. You’re no hero. Follow your nature.

Take her. She’ll be your first sacrifice to the new world.

“Shut up.”
Luo Shaotian forced out the words through clenched teeth, cold sweat forming on his forehead.

He could feel the violent force inside him stirring, reacting to these thoughts.

After what felt like forever, a knock sounded at the door.

He slapped himself, stood quickly, dropped the disposable underwear at the bathroom door, then retreated to the sofa and buried his face in his hands.

Calm down.

A while later, the water stopped.

The bathroom door cracked open, and a damp little head peeked out.

“Um… Uncle…”
Her voice was soft, damp from the shower.
“I… I don’t have clean clothes.”

He opened his eyes slowly.

She stepped out carefully.

Wrapped in a large white towel—barely covering mid-thigh—her smooth, slender legs were completely exposed to the air.

Her bare shoulders and delicate collarbones shimmered under the light. Water droplets slid down her neck and disappeared deep into the towel’s shadow, full of dangerous suggestion.

Her pale toes curled tensely against the floor—adorably so.

The air carried the familiar scent of soap—

—but emanating from her now, it felt like an intoxicant, burrowing into him and igniting the most primitive flame in his blood.

His breathing grew heavier.

His throat felt sanded raw.

“There are clean clothes in the closet—take whatever you want.”

The words squeezed out through clenched teeth.

“Oh.”
She seemed oblivious to the room’s rising tension. She nodded, picked up the disposable underwear, and barefoot, walked past the sofa toward the bedroom.

His gaze clung to her like metal to a magnet.

As she walked, she dried her long hair with a towel. The towel swayed, and several times he felt it might slip off her smooth skin.

Tear her apart. Right here. Make her tremble beneath you.

The inner voice roared.

He clenched his fists, digging his nails deep into his palms—pain his last anchor to sanity.

The bedroom door remained open.

He heard the closet door creak, clothes rustling. Moments later, she came out.

An oversized white T-shirt hung off her petite frame, reaching barely to her upper thighs. Loose athletic shorts underneath made her look like a child dressed in adult clothes—but her prematurely developed chest turned it into something dangerously seductive.

Drying her hair, she walked nervously toward the sofa, head bowed.

“Um… Uncle… thank you for today… really. Without you, I think I might’ve ended up sleeping on the street…”

“Um… well…”

“I… I can give you a little ‘repayment,’ how about that?”

The air thickened.

He looked at her—her smooth legs, her evasive eyes—and lowered his voice deliberately.

He knew: if he said even one slightly suggestive word, this seemingly innocent girl probably wouldn’t refuse.

(Look at her—such perfect prey.)

(She’s inviting you. Stop being trash. Take what you want!)

“Repay?”
He sat up slowly, leaning forward.

He stared at her nervous eyes and asked softly:

“How are you planning to… repay me?”

She trembled violently, frightened by his aggressive gaze. Her lips moved but no words came out.

That sight made the beast within him swell with satisfaction.

(Yes. Here. Now. Take her.)

But then—

His master’s disappointed face flashed through his mind.

(Your heart has become as black as theirs.)

“Heh.”
A self-mocking laugh. The aggression drained from him like retreating tide.

He shot to his feet, startling her again.

“Alright, kid. Don’t overthink things.”
He waved wearily, unwilling to look at her again.

He feared that if he looked for even one more second, the fragile thread called “bottom line” would snap.

He turned and walked stiffly toward his bedroom.

Bang!
The door slammed shut.

Click.
The lock slid into place.

“Haah…”
He leaned against the cold door and slid slowly to the floor, his own ragged, bellows-like breaths echoing around him.

Meanwhile, in the living room, the girl named “Lulu” straightened up.

She furtively grabbed her bracelet and typed frantically:

“Hey!! Xiaoxue what the hell?? I was thinking SO hard!!
Why did he go back to the bedroom right when I was about to say
‘I’ll cook him dinner as thanks’?!
How am I supposed to drug him like this?!”