The heartless beauty is addicted to being licked by a seemingly obedient and loyal dog.

Meng Zhaoyuan lowered his head and remained silent, his thick eyelashes obscuring the emotions in his eyes. After a few seconds of silence, he suddenly raised his hand to cover his eyes and chuckled softly.

But there was little smile on his face.

"no."

He said, his voice a little hoarse: "That's not what I meant. It wasn't because of you... that I..."

He paused, as if unable to find the right word to accurately express himself. His mouth moved, and after several attempts, he finally composed himself, took his hand off his eyes, and looked at Song Yunxi.

I know your situation in the Lu family.

"I like you. I've watched you struggle to get to where you are today. When you told me you were looking for a bed partner that day, I was actually quite happy."

He turned his head and looked at the puddle of water on the sink.

"I'm thinking, since a complete stranger like me has the chance to be with you, isn't it possible for me to be too?"

"I'm sorry, I asked them to leave the party early tonight. I was hoping to take the opportunity to confess to you in person, but I didn't expect it to turn out like this."

After listening, Song Yunxi lowered her eyes and stood there quietly for a few seconds, as if she was carefully pondering every word Meng Zhaoyuan said.

Then he nodded.

The gesture was small, but it conveyed the message.

He didn't say anything like "It's okay" or "I understand," but instead took out his phone from his pocket and sent a message to the driver who had been waiting to bring the car downstairs.

"Let's go, I'll see you off."

The two walked out of the restroom one after the other, crossed the corridor, and passed the door of the now-empty private room.

The waiters were tidying up inside, stacking empty bottles one by one into a trolley. The crisp, delicate sound of the glass bottles clinking echoed in the empty room.

Neither of them spoke as the elevator descended. Their silhouettes were projected onto the metal wall, separated by a short distance, like two parallel lines.

As I stepped out the door, the night wind rushed towards me, carrying the damp and chilly feeling unique to early spring.

"Uncle Wang, could you please take Zhaoyuan home? I'll walk around by myself."

"Okay, boss."

Song Yunxi bowed his head and gave the driver a few instructions, then helped the person into the car. Meng Zhaoyuan lowered the car window and stared at him, as if he still had something to say, but in the end he only managed to squeeze out a "Be careful on the road."

Song Yunxi nodded, took a few steps back, and watched the car's taillights turn at the end of the street and disappear into the night.

After standing there for a while, I suddenly felt that I didn't want to go home so soon.

The private room was filled with smoke tonight, and his clothes reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. He tugged at his collar, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, and slowly walked along the curb.

The streetlights lit up one after another, stretching his long shadow lengthwise and shortening. The branches of the sycamore trees had sprouted tender green buds, casting interlaced shadows on the ground that swayed in the wind like reflections in water.

After wandering around for more than ten minutes, Song Yunxi arrived at the nearest property to her.

I was too lazy to turn on the light in the entryway, so I changed my shoes in the dark, casually draped my coat over the hanger, and walked straight to the sofa, sinking into the soft cushions.

The living room was dark, with only the city lights outside the window filtering in and casting a blurry glow on the ceiling.

Song Yunqi groped for the cigarette box under the coffee table in the dark, took out a cigarette and put it in her mouth. The lighter flame flickered twice before it lit.

When he took his first puff of smoke, his entire shoulders and back relaxed.

The taste of nicotine spreads from the lungs to the limbs, bringing a brief and false sense of calm.

He leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling for a while, his mind racing. One moment he was thinking about what Meng Zhaoyuan had said in the bathroom, and the next he was thinking about the way Shen Chonglu looked up at him from the foot of the bed.

When the cigarette was halfway burned, he suddenly felt a little irritable.

It wasn't the kind of irritability that you could clearly explain, but rather a kind of restlessness that seeped into your bones and was indescribable.

It feels like something is crawling under my skin, itchy and unbearable, but I can't scratch it no matter what I do.

He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, reached up and touched his collarbone, his fingertips brushing against his collarbone, where the skin felt unbearably hot.

Song Yunqi closed her eyes and reached down.

I didn't drink much tonight, but the effects seem to be kicking in. The alcohol is burning in my veins, slowly drying up my reason.

He bit his lower lip, his movements rougher than usual. The pleasure came quickly but faded just as fast, like a gust of wind that swept by without leaving a trace.

not enough.

Far from enough.

He opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling in the darkness for two seconds, and then reached for his phone.

The screen light made my eyes squint uncontrollably. I opened WeChat and found a number that I had saved that afternoon, with the contact name Shen Chonglu.

The phone was answered after ringing twice.

"Feed?"

Shen Chonglu's voice rang out, his tone neither warm nor cold, but with a slight rise at the end, hiding a hint of undisguised anticipation and excitement.

"Come here now," Song Yunxi said.

His voice carried a hoarseness honed by desire, and Shen Chonglu immediately understood the meaning behind it.

He got fleas.

Send me your location and wait for me.

Song Yunxi sent the location, put down her phone, leaned back on the sofa, and closed her eyes for a while.

During the wait, the heat not only did not subside, but became even more intense.

It felt like a fire was burning inside my body, making me restless and my mouth and throat dry.

He stood up from the sofa and paced around the living room. When he found that it didn't help, he sat back down and tried to fix it himself. After finishing, he checked the time and found that only six minutes had passed since Shen Chonglu said "Wait for me".

So he stood up again, walked to the entrance, and walked back, over and over again.

When the doorbell rang, he practically rushed over.

Shen Chonglu stood under the corridor lights, wearing a thin black jacket with the zipper only half-zipped up, revealing the neckline of his white T-shirt and a small section of his collarbone.

His hair was a little messy from the night wind, with stray strands falling down his forehead, making his face look less sharp and more casual and relaxed.

The moment his gaze fell on Song Yunqi's face, his pupils dilated slightly, and his eyes became deep and unfathomable.

His face was flushed with desire, his lips an unnatural crimson, like ripe berries, plump and moist. His breathing was unsteady, his chest heaving, and his collar had tilted to one side due to the sudden movement, revealing a section of his shoulder and an ambiguous red mark below his collarbone.

That was left over from last night; it was his masterpiece.

Before Shen Chonglu could speak, he was grabbed by the collar.

The man's movements were swift and ruthless. He grabbed Shen Chonglu's collar with ten fingers and shoved him backward. Shen Chonglu's back slammed heavily against the corridor wall with a dull thud.

Song Yunqi pressed down on him, her lips touching his earlobe, her breath rapid and hot, feeling like fire licking his skin.

His fingers roughly yanked at the zipper of Shen Chonglu's coat, his nails scraping against the zipper teeth, making a grating sound.

The zipper got stuck, but he didn't have the patience to unzip it. Instead, he grabbed the collar and pulled it down, tearing the jacket off Shen Chonglu's shoulders to reveal the white T-shirt underneath and the outline of those two firm muscles.