The Tribulation of Three (Dust, Smoke, Dream, Rain Like Ink, Diamond Plus)

The ringing sound echoed persistently. Ye Linglan reached out to pick it up, but Mo Zhicheng stopped her. The man's singing voice and the pleasant melody repeated the exact same lyric with stubborn and unyielding persistence—how I long to ask if you have ever truly fallen for me!

Ye Linglan looked at him. Her pupils were vast and hazy, clear and bright like a expanse of emerald water and blue sky.

She still remembered the line from the movie earlier that day: as long as we live in each other's hearts, death is not a separation.

Amidst that broken ringing, she saw his post-intoxication drowsiness. His deep eyes were like clear varnish, instantly bringing radiance to the humble room. He murmured, "Don't you dare answer it..." Mo Zhicheng's voice was very low. Their eyes were locked on each other. The soft light from the floor lamp cast a diagonal glow, setting those tassels swaying up and down. Illuminated by the light, strands of shadows fell across her face.

There was a warm scent in the air. Tiny specks of dust drifted and danced under the orange light, resembling the flying garments of celestial maidens, shaking off clusters of mesmerizing golden powder, hesitant yet eager to speak.

He looked at her helpless expression, her slightly raised collarbones rising and falling with her breath. His heart practically leaped into his throat. She hadn't even done anything, yet she had already set his entire body's blood burning with feverish heat, filling him with an inexplicable excitement. The sexiness of this woman was hidden deep within her bones.

He lowered his head and kissed her haphazardly, covering her damp, soft lips.

The music finally stopped, as if unable to resist fate, pausing in a gesture of surrender, sinking into the silence of the endless ocean.

In the hazy mist, she felt him kissing her lips. Half-closing her eyes under his kiss, she fell straight into those deep, fathomless eyes of his, unable to escape ever again. His tongue probed inward, leading her to toss and entangle.

His fingers deftly paused at her chest, only then discovering that she had changed into a thin, lightweight nightgown tonight. Its pure color and soft texture covered her beautiful body like fluttering gauze. His fingers slipped inside the nightgown, only to find that she was wearing nothing underneath, resembling a sacrificial offering waiting solely for the moment of his entry.

Not far away, the glass window was slightly ajar, and the curtains billowed flirtatiously in the night breeze. A string of wind chimes hung before the window, scattering delicate, melodious notes in the desolate moonlight and the chilly breeze.

"Jingle... jingle..."

Various exquisite wind chimes danced in the dim moonlight, yet they could not mask the profound desolation.

"Jingle... jingle..."

At this moment, it sounded like deep, lingering calls:
Linglan, je t'aime,
Linglan, je t'aime,
Je t'aime...
Je t'aime...

Yet that woman would never know the meaning behind those words.

The once-indellible past faded endlessly.

The boundless horizon, the silvery moonlight, and this city that never sleeps—

***

Deafening and dazzling inside the "Vibrant Splendor" nightclub, the slightly stooped figure of a man sat in the corner of the bar.

Ye Shenghan rested his forehead dejectedly on one hand, while the other gripped a wine bottle. The kaleidoscopic lights carved the cold lines of his face, yet they could not conceal the utter despair and agony in his heart.

*--Young Master Ye, please don't be like this in the future.*

He tilted his head back and gulped down the liquor in one go, gazing out with a dazed and hazy expression. The glass was already empty, yet he still shook the bottle, seemingly hoping to pour out something more. However, there was nothing left. His decadent expression was matched by the foolish infatuation deep within his eyes.

*--"Shengqi" was founded with the last sum of money left by Uncle Ye. You invested all your assets into the Bai family. If—what if the Bai family fails to weather this crisis, it means you will lose your last assets and be left with nothing!*

Ye Shenghan laughed. Left with nothing,呵呵.

His slightly sharp fingernails dug deep into his palms, bringing a sharp, piercing pain.

*--Ever since you left, I've had nothing left anyway!*

The deafening, dynamic music of the dance floor gently transformed in his ears into that song, "Angel"—a graceful and sorrowful melody, so poignant and touching, singing like torn silk in a silent, pleading murmur.

Since he could not suppress his longing for her, he would simply close his eyes, yet he still could not control the aching in his heart. But she was his angel, forever and always...

In the intoxicated warmth of the bedroom, Mo Zhicheng had already stripped away the woman's thin attire, like unwrapping a gorgeous package.

At the scorching, explosive bar, Ye Shenghan opened his wallet and pulled out a faded photograph. The innocent and naive appearance of the girl seemed deeply imprinted in his memory.

In the bedroom, Mo Zhicheng stroked her warmly and gently. He blew softly across her cheek, watching a faint blush seep into her smooth, lustrous skin. He pressed tender kisses upon her, even able to feel the warmth of her skin.

At the bar, Ye Shenghan stared in a trance at the photograph in his hand. The crisscrossing spotlight could not tarnish the trace of purity in the girl's eyes. He just looked at her like that, his gaze burning, his eyes full of unspoken words.

In the bedroom, Mo Zhicheng greedily traced her soft curves with his eyes and lips. Then, taking her by surprise, he turned her body so that her back was facing him. He looked at the slightly raised bones of her nape, brushing aside her hair until he clearly saw the cinnabar mark imprinted on the back of her neck. He watched as the tip of his warm, smooth tongue slid all along it. The warm sensation teased that cinnabar mark, and the pleasurable feeling made her let out a low gasp. He turned her cheek around and thrust out his tongue in a fiery kiss.

At the bar, Ye Shenghan's fingers brushed over her eyebrows in the photo, as if she were right there in front of him, within arm's reach. He caressed her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, and could even imagine feeling her kiss, the fragrance of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. He slowly lowered his head, pressing his cold lips gently against the girl in the photograph, as if exhausting all the passion of a lifetime, resolute and tragic like a moth flying into a flame. He gently closed his eyes. As the long night rang like a chime and love was severed by parting and sorrow, he gently pressed a kiss upon the girl's lips.

-------------------------------------

In the bedroom, the two bodies waiting in eager anticipation were drenched in fragrant sweat. Their deep, probing kisses were intense and lingering. His gaze darkened, and Linglan writhed gently under his caresses.

Mo Zhicheng's palms kneaded her full breasts, his fingers teasing her peaks. Within moments, he felt her violent trembling, and the rosy buds on her chest bloomed with an alluring color against her snow-white skin.

He released her lips, lowered his head, and covered a blossom with his mouth, sucking gently. The tip of his tongue teased, rotated lightly, and nipped at the skin surrounding the bud. The accumulated pleasure had already rendered her helpless to resist.

Suddenly, he gripped her waist and flipped her over so that she sat astride him. This posture was both unfamiliar and familiar.

With her long hair slightly disheveled and her chin appearing sharper as she lowered her head, Linglan's hands rested aimlessly on his waist, an expression of utter abandonment upon her.

And she could already feel his enlarged manhood pressing stiffly against her. The foreplay had been lingering enough; her body was already aroused. This seduction had originally been instigated by him, but under his tutelage, she had already learned how to bring each other even greater pleasure.

She leaned down, hooked her arms around his neck, and delivered her kiss directly. Mo Zhicheng straightened up, their scorching bodies embracing even more closely and tightly. Sitting astride him, she felt a wave of pleasure erupt and ripple through her. Unable to help herself, she let out a low moan.

Just as she was panting softly, he unhesitatingly pushed his manhood slowly into her body. Her whole body tensed. The moment he forced his way in, it felt as though the entire fountain of pleasure had been pried open, until he plunged completely into her softness, and they welcomed each other with a deep sigh. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and back, daring not to move. Sitting upright, they looked like a pair of intertwined, embracing joyous Buddhas locked in union.

Her eyes were tightly shut, fearing that any sound escaping her lips would be one of arousal. Mo Zhicheng brushed the damp hair from her ear and murmured in a hoarse voice, "Baby..."

"Mm," she whimpered softly, already feeling herself melting into a deep, profound union with him. So this was the intoxication born between flesh and soul.

He murmured softly to guide her: "Move..."

Linglan started slightly, gently pushing against his chest and looking at him in a haze. Her pupils were misty, as if covered by a veil of water. She slowly shifted her body, the wetness within her bathing his burning manhood. Every time she writhed forward and back, the sound of friction could be heard, driving this deeper and more intense lust all the more fiercely.

She felt as though an unspeakable ecstasy was driving them both mad. Mo Zhicheng narrowed his striking eyes, panting as he watched her aroused and alluring expression. She raised her head slightly, her ink-black hair cascading down. The soft light cast a slant across her face, gilding her dense eyelashes and soft contours with a thin edge of gold. She reached out, threading her fingers through his hair, and her parting lips finally spilled over with a shy gasp: "Mm..."

Mo Zhicheng was startled. That soft voice shattered all his remaining reason. He steadied her waist, pressed her down flat onto the bed, lifted her hips with both hands, and savagely pierced the deepest part of her body.

She no longer closed her eyes. As she watched him gazing down at her—why was it that with every act of intimacy, he insisted on watching all of this with his own eyes?!

Then, she would remember him too, branding every single expression of his into her memory without the slightest deviation.

Yet he kissed away her sweat, while his other hand slid down to where they joined. As he thrust forward, his fingers rubbed against her sensitive core. Her wet, soft warmth was so seductive and tight that it drove him mad.

She raised her head with difficulty, trembling uncontrollably, unable to withstand his increasingly violent thrusts.

"Mm..." She threw her head back, panting breathlessly under the rhythm of his entry and withdrawal.

"You are mine, you're mine..." Finally, he roared in a low voice, no longer able to restrain himself. He gripped her slender waist, pressed down upon her with all his might, and charged relentlessly within her tight warmth, possessing her thoroughly.

Linglan trembled violently, lifting her slender waist in compliance and involuntarily responding to him.

"Cheng... a little lighter..."

Yet he refused to let her off. His rigid manhood buried itself even deeper within her. Clenching his teeth, he drove his hips forward with powerful, frantic, and burning thrusts: "Linglan..."