Chapter 41 Punishment (Written for Azure Robe and Fine Wine)

"Does your face still hurt?" Mo Zhicheng asked softly, his voice nearly hoarse, as if it could drown a person.

Ye Linglan froze in his arms. In those fathomless eyes, delicate ripples flickered. As she gazed at him, her brows knitted unconsciously; she realized that this man's greatest weapon was his artful balance of tenderness and severity, leaving his adversary no chance to fight back.

His touch was gentle, his hand slowly coming to rest upon her slender cheek. Linglan wanted to put an end to this caress at once, so she shook her head and replied in a low voice, "It doesn't hurt."

But he refused to let go. The more Linglan tried to pull away, the tighter he held her, as if the two of them were perfectly fitted together in that suffocating embrace. Mo Zhicheng smiled faintly, then asked with a trace of amusement, "Then do you still resent me for the salt you put in my tea?"

Linglan was momentarily at a loss for words.

He watched her intently, never breaking eye contact, catching every subtle shift in her expression. His thumb gently stroked her fair skin. Linglan's brows knit even tighter, a faint gasp escaping her lips, yet the man showed no intention of letting her go.

Mo Zhicheng leaned closer, stopping just an inch away, his thin lips brushing hers like a whisper. His breath was warm and disorienting as he rasped, "Perhaps next time, you'll try arsenic instead?"

He felt her body tremble slightly, and, satisfied, he murmured, "That's why they say a woman's heart is the most poisonous of all."

Linglan snapped back to herself, suddenly realizing she was being teased. She bit her lip hard and countered, "Mr. Mo, there's another saying: 'A man without venom is hardly a real husband.' If women are poisonous, at least they still have a heart. But in this world, if you look around, those truly adept at wielding power are not women."

Mo Zhicheng's lips curved with a hint of amusement as she went on, "And didn't you go right on adding milk candies to your coffee? So really, aren't we just six of one and half a dozen of the other?"

Hardly had she finished speaking when, unexpectedly, the man bit down on her lower lip. Linglan squinted in pain. "Getting bold, are you? Still talking back?"

"Who would've thought Mr. Mo enjoys holding a grudge—mmph—"

He captured her lips again, and the look in her eyes changed sharply, as if stung, and she struggled fiercely, just as she had the previous night.

— Don't go, don't go.

— I like you, I like you so very much. So much that even if the most wonderful things in the world were handed to you, they couldn't compare to how much I care for you.

That plaintive, yearning voice seemed to echo endlessly in her ears.

Mo Zhicheng gazed at her, his tongue tracing the edge of her teeth. This kiss was no longer fierce, but lingering, savoring, biting and sucking gently until her lips gleamed with a lustrous sheen; only then was he satisfied.

Yet when he looked up, he saw her dazed expression. Her eyes seemed veiled in a thin mist, staring blankly back at him.

Mo Zhicheng narrowed his eyes, his fingers brushing the dampness at the corner of her eye—tears. So, even as he kissed her, she had not responded as he wished, but cried instead. What did that mean?

His thumb gently wiped away her tears until she finally returned to herself.

At last, he released her. Ye Linglan quickly sat up, pushing past him in haste, but he caught her again, steadying her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze. Linglan asked hoarsely, "Is there anything else you need?"

Mo Zhicheng was silent for a long moment, then took a pair of pomegranate earrings from his pocket. Linglan glanced at his outstretched palm, where the twin red stones shimmered under the light as if aglow with a flowing radiance.

He brushed aside her slightly disheveled hair and fastened the earrings behind her ear. Her earlobe was exquisite, fair and lustrous like jade. Mo Zhicheng leaned in, gently rubbing it between his fingers.