Chapter 17

“Mr. Yan, are you in there?” Miss Rong knocked on the door but received no response.

After two seconds, she tentatively turned the handle. Sure enough, it wasn’t locked, so she quietly pushed open the door.

Yan Zhimo lay disheveled on the sofa, his brows drawn together in discomfort. His thin lips were slightly parted as he breathed rapidly and unevenly, his long fingers tugging at his collar to expose his sensual neck and collarbones.

Miss Rong’s face instantly flushed at the sight.

Meanwhile, Yan Zhimo was thinking: Fuck. I can’t believe I have to sacrifice my looks for this. The Rong family has got to go.

Miss Rong called out to him several more times, but all she received in response were Yan Zhimo’s incoherent groans. Finally reassured, she slowly approached while using her slender fingers to undo the sheer shawl draped over her shoulders, revealing two smooth, fair shoulders.

She casually tossed the shawl over the arm of the sofa, then bent down to touch Yan Zhimo’s arm and said softly, “President Yan, why did you fall asleep on the sofa? Let me help you to the bed in the lounge.”

“Mianmian…” Yan Zhimo’s brows knitted tightly as he struggled to open his eyes. His thick black lashes hung half-lowered, while his normally sharp, dark gaze had become hazy and unfocused.

He stared at Miss Rong’s fair cheek for a long moment, then, as though bewitched, reached out and seized her slender, smooth wrist.

“President Yan, Mr. Jian isn’t here. It’s the same if I stay with you.” Seeing how disoriented Yan Zhimo appeared, Miss Rong even boldly reached out to caress his face, a ​Read on BaiLianTales​shy blush spreading across her pure features. “Mr. Yan, the truth is, I’ve always admired you deeply…”

Yan Zhimo was young and handsome, with an extraordinary bearing. Both his family background and capabilities were exceptional, and he was the person most likely to become the next head of the Yan family. If she could become pregnant with Yan Zhimo’s child, wouldn’t the Rong family immediately rise to wealth and prominence?

Yet the next moment, Yan Zhimo’s grip around her wrist abruptly tightened, as though he intended to crush her bones in one go.

Miss Rong let out a scream of agony. An instant later, the world spun around her. The man grabbed her by the hair and slammed her hard and fast against the cold, solid coffee table. Her head reeled with an explosive wave of dizziness, and her vision abruptly went black for a second. She nearly thought the man had smashed her skull apart.

Her head sent the bowl on the coffee table flying. It shattered against the tiled floor with a sharp crack, and the jagged porcelain shards scattered, one of them immediately slicing through Miss Rong’s upper eyelid. Bright red blood streamed down alongside her glistening tears.

Yan Zhimo held Miss Rong’s head down with one hand. With the other, he casually picked up a shard of porcelain from the floor and pressed its sharp point directly against her throat. It instantly pierced her delicate skin, spilling blood all over his hand. He said carelessly, “Is this how you show your admiration for me? By conspiring with Secretary Liu to drug me? Hmm?”

“No… no…” Warm blood flowed into Miss Rong’s eyes. She squeezed them tightly shut, her trembling hands clawing wildly through the air in terror. Her sharp nails tore into Yan Zhimo’s arm, and she struggled like a dying bird trapped in a cage, weeping pitifully through her tears. “I’m sorry, President Yan. I truly didn’t mean to do it. It was all Secretary Liu… Secretary Liu manipulated me into doing this. My feelings for you are sincere. Please, let me go. I’ll never dare do it again. Please…”

“Don’t let me hear another word from you.” Yan Zhimo’s voice was as cold and vicious as a tempered blade, his deep eyes icy and merciless, inspiring limitless terror. “Disgusting.”

…

In the corridor.

Jian Anmian hurried toward the lounge where Yan Zhimo was staying, panting rapidly and burning with anxiety. Secretary Liu and Yuwen Chi followed behind [unauthorized copy]him, repeatedly urging him to slow down.

According to the original novel, the protagonist shou pushed open the door and saw the man he loved fooling around with another woman. He was instantly devastated and, without asking a single question, turned and fled.

At that moment, the protagonist gong suddenly regained consciousness. He threw off the woman on top of him and chased after the protagonist shou, successfully pinning him against the corridor wall and forcing a kiss on him. When footsteps sounded nearby, he very predictably dragged the protagonist shou into an empty room. No longer able to control the drug’s effects, he naturally proceeded to fuck the protagonist shou like a rag doll.

So what Jian Anmian needed to do later was open the door, turn around, and run.

The thought that he would soon have to run immediately left Jian Anmian feeling dispirited again.

Ah… He didn’t want to run. He couldn’t run. Running with this wreck of a body would kill him.

Forget it. Why run? He wasn’t going to.

Once he came out, Jian Anmian would simply lead the protagonist gong straight into the room next door. That way, they wouldn’t have to make out in the corridor. It would be terribly embarrassing if someone saw them.

Having silently made his plan, Jian Anmian took a deep breath, walked to the door, gripped the handle, and pushed it open.

Yet when he saw the scene inside the room, his eyes widened in shock.

Yan Zhimo had grabbed a woman by the hair and was pressing her firmly against the glass coffee table. Her face was covered in blood and tears, and the man ​read the original at bailiantales.com​had a sharp shard of porcelain pressed deeply against her neck. Blood was also gushing from the wound, leaving streaks of vivid crimson across the woman’s deathly pale skin. The sight was utterly horrifying.

The woman’s nails had torn open Yan Zhimo’s thick, powerful arm. Deep bloody scratches crisscrossed the muscles bulging with veins. Yet those minor wounds were hardly worth mentioning compared with the woman barely clinging to life beneath his palm.

Looking more closely, who else could this wretched-looking woman be but Miss Rong?

The next moment, Yan Zhimo raised his head, and his dark, icy gaze met Jian Anmian’s dazed eyes directly.

Jian Anmian’s scalp suddenly prickled. His breathing became labored, and his heartbeat accelerated, as though the person pinned beneath the man’s hand weren’t that woman but him.

Seeing Jian Anmian standing there in a daze, Yan Zhimo frowned and called out, “Mianmian, come here.”

The man’s voice was deep and heavy, still carrying the coldness and mercilessness he had yet to withdraw as he commanded Jian Anmian, “Come to my side.”