Chapter 106: The Sublimation of Love (For Yiyi Diamond)

"You have never truly looked, never truly felt, and most certainly never truly walked into this!"

She was escaping. Amidst his turbulent, soul-baring confession—words so profound they seemed to pierce to the marrow—she trembled helplessly. Her hands rose to her chest as if in self-defense, and she let out a sound that was little more than a plea: "No, please, don't say any more..."

Her voice was thick with hoarseness, laced with a sob. Her lips kept moving, helplessly muttering, "Don't say it... don't say it..." but she could no longer push him away.

He embraced her, and in the shifting of their bodies, he somehow pinned her beneath him. Feeling her futile resistance still brought him a bitter ache. All the storminess of his confession came to an abrupt halt at her plea. The gale ceased, leaving only an endlessly spreading silence, punctuated by the man's ragged breathing and the woman's soft whimpering.

Thump...

Their heartbeats seemed tethered, striking like drums. That powerful rhythm pierced through their final defenses.

Through the darkness, he was like a leopard stalking in the night. Suddenly, his palm cupped her face, and he kissed her lips unawares. His searing tongue forcefully pried open her teeth, catching her off guard, invading her mouth, and tangling with her warm, smooth tongue.

The woman pushed against him with all her might, as if desperate to flee from such an intense onslaught. Yet, his kiss grew deeper, richer—from a storm-like sweep to a tender, lingering gnaw. His tongue seemed to carry a strange gentleness, licking away her fragility and her evasion.

His powerful presence had completely ensnared her. Ling Lan did not know when she had quietly closed her eyes. Her arms, which had been pushing him away, slowly reached out to wrap around his neck. In her ears, she could still hear his hoarse, low whisper: "I am afraid of you dying, but I am even more afraid of losing you while you are still alive!"

Over and over, he conquered her heart with unstoppable force.

Just this once, let me fall!

She told herself, deeply and firmly. As he kissed her with frantic passion, she finally surrendered.

Finally, she took the initiative to reach out with her own tongue to entwine with his. Yet she remained so shy, so cautious. Her clumsy return kiss was like a tantalizing lure; it nearly drove him mad.

He steadied her head, sucking on her tongue as if to swallow her whole. But even that was not enough; his body was an insatiable abyss. He had never felt such intense desire for a woman.

He kissed her lips, her lean jaw, her soft neck—sucking and nibbling. The faint, lingering fragrance of her body threw his senses into disarray.

Ling Lan felt a wave of warmth and a ticklish sensation on her neck. He seemed to have complete mastery over her sensitive spots; with just the slightest provocation, she was left at a loss. Her chest felt as if it had been torn open, unable to suppress the longing, unable to fill the void. A hollow, unbearable ache染 spread through her entire body.

She kept her eyes tightly shut, the tear stains at their corners frozen. Her teeth bit down on her lip, terrified that if she were not careful, a frantic moan might escape.

Yes, she thought, she must be insane...

She told herself to sink into this just once. She held him tightly, her slender fingers tracing the back of his neck.

Mo Zhicheng felt the change in her body and her active response. He paused, lifting his head from the crook of her neck.

He reached out one hand to turn on the bedside lamp, but the woman beneath him seemed to sense his movement and quickly spoke to stop him: "Don't turn on the light, I beg you!" Her voice trembled, bordering on supplication. She was afraid.

Mo Zhicheng did not give her a chance to be afraid!

Click...

The sudden light stung her eyes, and she instinctively squeezed them shut. The man whispered, "Look at me!" His voice was gravelly, as if polished, yet carried an ultimate, seductive lure.

He looked at that face, as if cleansed by rain: the slightly furrowed brows, the stray locks of hair, the bitten lip, the blurred, heavy breathing, the collarbones rising and falling with each breath. All of it was as beautiful as an untouched maiden. She was as flawless as white jade.

"Look at me, Ling Lan!"

She was deeply drawn by that voice, unable to resist any longer. Feeling her heart slowly letting go, she opened her eyes at his low call. The light in her vision blurred into a halo, and the man's features overlapped and shifted.

"Tell me, who am I?"

Even with desire poised on the brink, this was what he cared about most.

Ling Lan was stunned. Her black-and-white eyes were filled with shimmering ripples, looking back at him helplessly, lost and bewildered.

What she saw was not the man who commanded the world, not the billionaire, nor the man admired by socialites and beauties. In her eyes, he was just Mo Zhicheng, a man who had weathered the changes of time and only longed for something simple.

In that moment, her heart trembled.

"Zhicheng..." she whispered.

The moment he received his answer, he lowered his head and kissed those lips deeply.

A soft, yellowish halo cast their intertwined shadows against the whitewashed wall.

He kissed her with abandon. Ling Lan hooked her arms around his neck, forgetting all identities. Like two wounded little beasts, they licked and kissed each other, offering solace.

But he was not satisfied with this. His fingers slid into her pajamas, caressing her firm, full breasts through her bra, kneading them involuntarily. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

She held him, but she felt him pull away from her lips, moving downward, his kisses landing on her chest. The damp warmth made her gasp in shock as he bit and opened the buttons of her pajamas.

One by one, the fabric parted, revealing her soft, white skin. Her breasts were exceptionally beautiful, especially against the black lace of her bra, which made her skin look like snow—translucent and fair.

His tongue traced a path over her, the damp sensation striking her like a bolt of lightning, causing her to tremble uncontrollably.

When he finally kissed the crimson buds, they stood proud like red plum blossoms in the winter snow under the teasing of his tongue.

A wave of shivers washed over her. She closed her eyes tightly, her slender hands clutching the sheets,迎合 him with unbearable need, feeling only a profound emptiness within.

He continued to undo her buttons until he reached her flat abdomen, kissing it like a falling petal, leaving trails of shivers in his wake.

He bit at her pajama bottoms and gently pulled them down. With every inch he conquered, until he reached her most intimate places, he pushed away the obstructive clothing, leaving her completely bare before him.

Then, he covered her body once more, pinning her hands above her head. Through the dim, soft light, he peered at her: "Open your eyes and look at me..."

The woman's brows knit together. She looked back at him through half-lidded eyes, feeling his hardness pressing between her thighs. The scorching heat, the slight, pulsing swell—she breathed, her face flushed with the confusion of passion.

She saw the determination in his eyes and realized that he had cruelly pinned her hands just to watch exactly how she would succumb.

Ling Lan shyly looked away, but he forced her face back, making her look at him directly. He murmured low: "Look at me!"

He would not allow her to escape. Mo Zhicheng raised one of her legs, pressing his hardness against her damp, flowered entrance. He did not rush to enter, but rubbed slowly, wanting her to see with her own eyes how he possessed her, how he claimed her: "Who am I?"

His bewitching voice sounded again. She was unable to speak in her distress, but he had already pushed her to the edge of ecstasy.

Yes, she was being driven mad by him. But with his repeated questioning, she bit her lip until it trembled, once again murmuring: "Zhicheng... mmm..."

He thrust forward, entering her completely, accompanied by his soft, melodic whispers.

Their love was like a storm, like water that could never be gathered back. They were lost in each other, entangled and lingering.

The wall reflected their shadows, like an ambiguous and breathtaking scene from an art-house film. The man moved with primal rhythm, his breathing ragged, drenched in sweat. That ultimate pleasure and bliss left him feeling cathartic.

Thrust after thrust, wave after wave;

She was like a small boat drifting in the ocean, rising and falling. Only by wrapping her legs tightly around his powerful waist and matching his rhythm could she ease the suffocating tightness in her chest.

The air was thick with the scent of intimacy. When they reached the peak of ecstasy, Mo Zhicheng held her tightly—a deep, powerful embrace. Even his sweat-drenched shoulders trembled uncontrollably, his tensed muscles revealing every clear fiber in his relief.

Mo Zhicheng looked fondly at her face, stained with the flush of passion and shyly reddened. A smile of satisfaction finally touched the corners of his mouth.

He closed his eyes, kissing her sweat-drenched black hair, breathing heavily. The woman opened her eyes, gazing thoughtfully at the white wall.

***

The morning breeze blew through the luxurious curtains.

When Mo Zhicheng awoke and lay on the bed, this was the scene he beheld: the curtains were rolled up by the wind, framing the silhouette of the woman standing by the window, stark naked.

She leaned gently against the curtain, silently gazing at the distant seascape. She had said she loved the ocean for its ability to embrace all rivers. What kind of woman possessed such insight and breadth of heart?

She was indeed different from other women. She was intelligent, seemingly rational, yet possessed a soft, tender heart beyond her years.

He could not see her expression, but he could feel her bewilderment.

In that moment, Mo Zhicheng felt a sudden sense of loss.

He watched that lonely back, her dark hair cascading down, partially covering the scars on her shoulders. Her graceful, curvaceous figure was half-hidden by the wind-swept curtains.

The morning light fell upon her, as if baptizing her clean body; she was like a freshly bloomed lotus, so pure that one could not bear to profane her.

Ling Lan leaned down, picked up a bathrobe from the carpet, and put it on carelessly. As she turned, Mo Zhicheng quickly closed his eyes, feigning sleep.

Ling Lan looked at him but did not wake him. She simply bent down to pick up the scattered clothes from the floor and turned toward the bathroom.

When her footsteps faded, Mo Zhicheng slowly opened his eyes. Hearing the sound of rushing water nearby, he sat up and wrapped a towel around his waist. Through the crack in the bathroom door, he watched her back as she hand-washed his clothes.

Mo Zhicheng smiled with satisfaction.