Chapter 10: A Chance Encounter at the Airport (3)

Six years had passed, and she had changed greatly—more beautiful than before, her figure refined and graceful. Yet her large eyes remained the same, dark and bright, their gaze shimmering; whenever she looked at someone, she seemed so innocent and guileless it inspired both affection and pity.

However, her bad habit of using her legs and knees to hurt others had not changed, Yan Yichen thought with annoyance.

Yan Yichen used his other hand to steady her restless head, kissing her deeply. His lips were slightly cool, but his tongue was warm. He kissed her with a possessive passion.

Meng Yier could not escape, forced to endure his demanding kiss. She stared indignantly at his strikingly handsome face—the kind of beauty that seemed unfair to both gods and men.

She could only curse him silently in her heart: Damn rake, is good looks a license to do whatever he pleases?

Such poor character—a waste of such a handsome face.

Gradually, Meng Yier’s cheeks flushed, her breath growing short. Her body seemed drained, weak and powerless, her mind blank.

Her body refused to obey, and against her will she began to feel dizzy with desire, lost in his domineering, tender kiss.

The last scraps of reason warned her: This man is too dangerous, she must keep away from him.

“There’s no one here—”

“Yan Yichen isn’t here—”

“Maybe the sound didn’t come from here, let’s hurry and check over there.”

Outside, the noisy voices and footsteps faded, growing more distant until silence returned.

Meng Yier was still desperately searching for a way to escape him. Yan Yichen finally, though reluctantly, released her. His deep, passionate eyes fixed on her, a flicker of desire in their depths.

Her taste was as sweet as ever, just as it had been six years ago. Even his icy gaze warmed with a hint of a smile.

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Remembering six years ago, a barely perceptible chill flickered in Yan Yichen’s eyes.

He let go of her hands, his slender fingers greedily caressing her lips, an act full of intimate ambiguity.

Meng Yier caught the trace of a smile in his eyes, and her nearly lost self-control snapped back in an instant.

Her hands, sore from his grip, moved now that she was free. A sly glimmer flashed in her eyes.

Smack—

“You shameless scoundrel—”

Her small hand, swift as lightning, struck his face. Her bright, flashing eyes glared at him fiercely.

Yan Yichen’s face turned to the side from her blow. His eyes lowered, so Meng Yier could not see them. Instead, he tugged at the corner of his mouth, laughing softly.

He paused for several seconds, then slowly turned back, his gaze roving over her with playful arrogance.

“Shameless scoundrel? You seemed to enjoy it just now—why pretend to be so virtuous?”

“You bastard—”

Meng Yier’s face flushed even deeper at his mocking expression and contemptuous words. She raised her hand to strike him again, but he seized it tightly.

A trace of frustration flickered in Yan Yichen’s deep eyes.

This woman—was she his nemesis? In his brief twenty-some years of life, every time she appeared, chaos followed.

Sixteen years ago, one day, after being scolded by his father, he missed his grandmother, who had always doted on him, and so he ran away from home.

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He found his way to his grandmother’s house by memory. It was his first time making the journey alone, and upon arrival, he discovered she was not home—the doors were locked tight.

Dusk was falling. Yan Yichen, unwilling to return home and face his father’s wrath, waited near his grandmother’s house for her return.

Suddenly, the broken sobs of a little girl drifted from behind his grandmother’s house.

The sound came from a small, dilapidated building behind the house, long abandoned and uninhabited. From his earliest memories, he recalled that building as deserted.

He followed the direction of the cries, drawing closer.

Yan Yichen pushed open the door and entered. The place was large, but thick dust covered everything. A sudden fear crept up on him.

But curiosity overcame his fear. He climbed the stairs slowly and saw a frail little girl sitting by the bed.

She looked seven or eight years old, her skin pale as snow, her eyes large but reddened from crying. She wore a red dress embroidered with delicate patterns.

Bright red clothing, snow-white skin—in the dim light, she looked almost ghostly. Yan Yichen’s heart trembled, a chill of terror sweeping over him.

Panicked, he turned to flee.

“Brother—”

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