Waaah, I'm being forced into loving my yandere wife's brain.

In her dazed state, Lin Zhiyao felt someone hugging her from behind, her whole body sticky.

She frowned slightly, opened her eyes, and breathed in the cold, strong scent of agarwood emanating from Shen Jin.

She moved slightly and realized that Shen Jin was holding her from behind. They were both naked, and their skin was sweaty and slippery where it touched, making it almost impossible to tell where her skin was and where his was.

Lin Zhiyao blinked, her gaze slowly focusing, then she suddenly stopped.

The black lacquered bronze mirror inlaid with mother-of-pearl was placed three steps away from the bed. Its smooth surface faced the bed, reflecting her and Shen Jin's embracing posture in perfect detail.

In the mirror, she lay on her side in Shen Jin's arms, her long hair scattered all over the pillow, a few strands of hair sticking to her cheeks with sweat, and a few fresh red marks imprinted on her neck.

What's even more shocking is that her body, from her collarbone down, is covered with dark lines.

It is a traditional Chinese ink painting.

Lin Zhiyao's almond-shaped eyes suddenly widened, and her drowsiness vanished instantly.

She looked down and shuddered.

Someone dipped a brush in ink and painted on her body.

The brushstrokes are extremely fine, outlining her posture on the bed, with her long hair falling loose, her eyebrows and eyes full of spring, and her lips slightly parted. Although there are only a few strokes, they are lifelike.

The entire painting is done in ink, except for the lips... there are four spots of bright red cinnabar, like drops of blood splashed on snow, or like ripe berries, so vibrant they are breathtaking.

Lin Zhiyao slept through the night, and most of the ink had dried. A few places were smudged by her turning over, leaving faint gray stains, which added a touch of lazy vibrancy to the ink than the meticulous brushwork.

It was clearly Shen Jin's masterpiece.

"woke up?"

Shen Jin's voice was hoarse, with the languor unique to someone who had just woken up, like a satiated beast. He deliberately dragged out the last syllable, "I've been busy all night to finish these few strokes."

Shen Jin rested his chin on her shoulder, his fox-like eyes half-closed, his palm pressed against her lower abdomen.

Lin Zhiyao's throat tightened, and her throat bobbed slightly as she felt extremely ashamed.

She moved slightly, just as she was about to block it, but suddenly her gaze was fixed on the mirror, unable to look away.

In the mirror, because of her movements, more of the previously obscured ink paintings came into view.

On the fair skin, the main image of the ink painting is clearly visible.

The painting depicts a woman lying on a brocade quilt, her legs slightly curled up, her hands bound to the headboard, her almond-shaped eyes half-closed, and the spring-like color at the corners of her eyes is extremely rich and vibrant.

Behind the woman in the painting, there is clearly another figure, only the outline of the shoulders and neck is shown, the face is not clear, but a large hand is gripping the woman's chin, the fingers are long and slender, and even the bulging veins on the arm are clearly visible.

Shen Jin followed her gaze to the mirror, his tone lazy and satisfied: "How is it? I haven't picked up a pen in quite some time, but my skills haven't gotten rusty."

Lin Zhiyao's almond-shaped eyes trembled with tears, and her breathing became shallow.

Shen Jin seemed unconcerned about her answer.

He turned his head, his nose brushing against the thin pink skin behind her ear, as if smelling a newly blooming flower, "Yao Yao..."

Shen Jin chuckled softly, his chest vibrating against her back, heavy and sticky. "Don't you think, in this painting, you're so beautiful it makes my heart ache?"

Lin Zhiyao bit her lower lip, her whole body tensing up with shame.

Shen Jin held her hand, guiding her fingertips to the edge of the ink painting, slowly gliding over the longest ink line on her waist, as if guiding her to trace her own outline.

"Yaoyao..."

He pressed his ear against her flushed earlobe, his voice so low it was almost a coaxing tone, "Look, when you cried last night, I remember every expression and movement of yours so clearly."

"Waaah..."

Lin Zhiyao's eyelashes trembled slightly, and her fingertips quivered in his palm.

She suddenly remembered that last night, in a half-dreaming, half-awake state, she had indeed felt a slightly cool touch on her skin, with an itchy sensation, light and gentle; she thought it was him caressing her…

I didn't expect it to be the nib of a pen.

Shen Jin withdrew his hand from her waist and instead supported her chin, gently turning her so that she was facing the mirror, and both of their faces were clearly reflected in the mirror.

In the mirror, Shen Jin's androgynous face was pressed against her shoulder, his fox-like eyes smiling, yet his depths were as dark as ink. His crimson lips were slightly upturned, as if he had just drunk a cup of warm wine, and his lips were more moist than usual.

He rested his chin on her shoulder, and with his other hand he reached around her waist to her front, his fingertips touching the dark peony above her lower abdomen.

He added that after finishing the main drawing last night; the petals were layered, and the stamen was placed right at her navel.

"From now on, I will paint one picture for you every day, how about that?"

Shen Jin's voice was soft, almost gentle. His fingertips slid slowly down the flower stem, stopping at the edge of the vermilion. "Wait until it's full before washing it clean and starting over... Yao Yao, your body is enough for me to paint for many years."

Lin Zhiyao's almond-shaped eyes trembled suddenly, and a blush spread across the corners of her eyes.

In the mirror, her face was flushed, even her neck was pink, and her lips were slightly parted, like crushed flower petals, moist and disheveled, yet strangely beautiful, only arousing more bullying desires.

Shen Jin's fox-like eyes were deep. He lowered his head and kissed the smooth, unpainted skin on her shoulder, gently nibbling it and leaving a faint mark. "Don't move..."

He mumbled, "I haven't finished painting yet..."

*

The next morning, Lin Zhiyao woke up to the sound of very light footsteps.

When she opened her eyes, the bed curtains had been half lifted, and Qingwu was squatting by the foot of the bed, holding a basin of hot water. When she saw that she was awake, she showed a cautious yet relieved expression.

"Is Miss awake?"

Lin Zhiyao propped herself up and sat up, finding her throat terribly dry. "...What time is it?"

"It was just past 15 minutes past Chen Shi (7-9 AM)."

Qingwu wrung out a hot handkerchief and handed it to him. "Your Majesty went to the palace before dawn. Before you left, he told me to keep an eye on you, saying that you went to bed late last night and that you should rest a little longer."

Lin Zhiyao took the handkerchief and pressed it to her face. The warm moisture seeped into her pores through the cotton, and she couldn't help but feel much more relaxed.

She let out a long breath.

It felt like all the bones in my body had fallen apart and then been haphazardly put back together; every movement brought on a dull ache.

Lin Zhiyao wiped her face and handed the handkerchief back to Qingwu.

Qingwu then helped her rinse her mouth and change her clothes. The clothes prepared for her today were a lotus-colored jacket with a front opening, paired with a moon-white skirt. The cuffs were embroidered with a few extremely fine silver plum blossoms, simple yet subtly sophisticated.

Lin Zhiyao tied her sash and walked to the bronze mirror to take a look.

The woman in the mirror had a faint bluish-gray ring under her eyes, and her lip color wasn't very good either.

He looked like a flower battered by a storm, wilted and lacking energy.

Lin Zhiyao withdrew her gaze and turned to ask Qingwu, "Has there been any news from the clinic?"

She still cared about her brother's affairs.