Chapter 120: Savoring the Starlight

“It’s quite romantic.”

Zhong Huayan lay back in his arms, watching the fireworks cascade across the sky—a grand declaration of love in the eyes of onlookers. Those vivid bursts of color seemed to fall into her barren, love-starved heart, casting tiny flickers of starlight in the darkness.

Then, naturally, she reached for the Buddhist prayer beads in his hand and began to fiddle with them. The beads were as cold as their owner’s temperament, their misty surface clinging faintly to her skin as she rolled them between her fingers.

“First time?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll set off fireworks for you every day from now on.”

Fu Yanyan gently stroked the woman’s hair, tenderly attending to her with chopsticks. Seeing the tears shimmering precariously in her eyes stirred a deep ache in his heart.

He even harbored a self-punishing hope—that even if Huayan didn’t love him, she would still find happiness.

Yet, Huayan had never known warmth. She had lived alone, trembling, fighting her battles in this world without a single soul who truly understood her, surrounded only by vampires draining her flesh and bones.

“Fu Yanyan…”

Before she could utter more, under the dimming sky and flickering candlelight, amidst the radiant stars above, her lips were suddenly captured by his. The man’s kiss was unexpectedly gentle, his arms encircling her waist, one hand pressed firmly against the back of her head.

Fu Yanyan instinctively draped his camel-colored coat over her back, fearing she might catch a chill. Then, step by step, he led her to savor the purest taste hidden within the wild mountains and withered woods. She trembled all over, a warm mist rising along her spine, flushing her cheeks bright red.

Meanwhile, the assistant stationed at the yacht’s bow, facing the night breeze, finished his wine and watched the tourists snapping photos furiously on both sides. Feeling he shouldn’t draw too much attention, he turned to retreat inside.

As he reached the fourth open public area, he noticed rose petals scattered across the ground, a table adorned with scented candles, and gardenias strewn about, filling the air with fragrance as the night wind blew.

Quickly pulling out a small camera, the assistant focused on the two passionately entwined figures, snapping away.

Until the man behind them lifted his head slightly, his eyes partially hidden by stray hair, flashing a cold, tiger-like glare that sent a chill through the assistant’s legs. Faced with the sharp warning in his boss’s gaze, the assistant could only slink away in embarrassment.

“Huayan, I’m hungry…”

Her face flushed unnaturally red, yet she looked even more radiant, murmuring softly.

“If you’re hungry, let’s eat. The dishes will get cold if we wait.”

“I don’t want to eat. I want you.”

Zhong Huayan half-playfully, half-reluctantly coaxed the man to kneel beneath the table, one hand casually gripping her thigh.

Seeing her flustered, Fu Yanyan placed the prayer beads into her hand with a coaxing tone. He buried his head near the white jade beads, his gaze sharper than any beast’s—unyielding and determined—gripping her calf tighter.

Huayan winced in pain this time, the tassels at the back of her dress trembling, and only by clutching the beads did her heartbeat steady.

“Huayan, does it feel good?”

“You’re too rough…”

Listening to her soft complaint, his eyes caught the silver gown cascading to the floor. A private jet streaked across the sky along a private route above the yacht, the waves beneath rippling endlessly.

“Huayan, I haven’t even started yet…”

Fu Yanyan stood and began to undress. Every time he neared her like this, Zhong Huayan was startled. Though he looked dignified in a suit, once stripped, he resembled a wild beast.

Not just because of the scattered scars across his body or the burn marks on his back, but the broad shoulders and narrow waist—the chiseled muscles that clearly spoke of countless hours spent boxing. She reflected: they had been intimate three times—the first two gentle, the third leaving her knees weak…

“You… better take it easy.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll take you to my grandfather’s house.”

“Your grandfather’s house?”

Zhong Huayan thought carefully. Fu Yanyan’s biological mother did have a father, a somewhat notable figure in the northeast provinces, known for working in overseas markets. The exact business was unclear, but such incomplete profiles often hinted at less reputable dealings.

“I won’t go. If your grandfather sees me like this, he’ll definitely be angry.”

Fu Yanyan’s hand swept to her waist, pressing her lightly against the wall. He grasped her delicate hands, slipping the prayer beads onto her wrist.

“Ah… I want to roll the beads.”

“Sis, once it starts shaking, you won’t be able to hold the beads.”

Before she could react, a sudden tremor shook the world. Her sharp fingers scratched wildly across his abs, drawing thin lines of blood, yet he barely flinched.

Fu Yanyan controlled his strength but it still stung, making the woman’s eyes redden—not from the cold wind. She bit down on his shoulder in frustration, leaving two rows of teeth marks.

Halfway down the river, the yacht slowed as he finally satisfied his hunger and thirst, stifling a low groan.

The prayer beads slipped from her wrist, scattering on the floor with a crisp sound.

“You were wrong. Even if you don’t roll the beads, they still fall.”

She was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, her fingers trembling.

“Good girl, I’ll carry you to take a bath.”

Fu Yanyan looked at the marks left on her body. Sober and clear-headed, he felt both pain and satisfaction. His lover had to bear these traces; this kind of marking strangely pleased him.

“Why weren’t you as gentle this time as the first two?”

The woman collapsed in his arms, feeling safe. If not for her hunger, she might have already drifted to sleep.

Then she weakly pounded his shoulder, feigning a fierce blow but with a coquettish air. He chuckled softly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The two rows of bite marks on his collarbone were glaringly obvious.

“Gotta scare you a little, or you’d never learn.”

“You’re my little brother, and you dare to scold your sister?”

“No. This is my gentle reprimand to you.”

Zhong Huayan didn’t press him further. It was rare for such a cold man to say these words.

A good man, sometimes driven nearly mad by her.

She lay in the bathtub, playing with the bubbles in the water. Though any slight movement brought a dull ache, it was bearable. Reclining in the steaming bath, her weak body and sensitive nerves felt like a ghost pressing down on her—drowsy and heavy, unable to move, unable to speak.