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◎Like a rainstorm◎
“Yes. Much happier than being with you.”
Even though she had opened the window to air out the room and tried hard to put the cabinet back in order, there were some things that just wouldn’t go away. She had already waited for a long time, couldn’t get online, was irritated, and now being found out by him made her even angrier.
She wasn’t sure what exactly in her words had offended him, but his expression suddenly darkened. He seized her wrist, pushed her down onto the bed, and pinned her beneath him.
“You…”
Only then did she realize that the cold thing from earlier was actually a cup of milk tea—her favorite brand and flavor. Her heart softened instantly.
She didn’t want to fight with him; she just wanted to live a good life together. She reached out, wanting to wrap her arms around his waist to coax him a little, but he caught her hand again, pressed both her wrists together, and lifted them above her head.
The position was… humiliating.
She struggled, but he only pinned her tighter. He was slim, but he had always been strong—she knew that.
“Then tell me—who do you enjoy it more with?”
He lingered over her shame, looking down coldly.
“With your senior brother?”
“…”
Why bring him up now? Chu Zhixia was speechless. Mentioning another man at such a moment was bizarre. “Didn’t you already send him abroad?”
“So you’re very worried about him? Thinking of him?”
He shouldn’t have left her a phone. He was sure Zhou Haoying couldn’t call a domestic number, but he wasn’t sure if they had other ways to communicate.
“I was thinking about you.”
—So it was his doing.
She sighed, looking into the near-bloodthirsty glint in his eyes, deciding she needed to explain more clearly.
“You kept me here, so of course you should know what I think about. You. Us. All of it. Why do you still have to ask?”
She lifted her gaze toward him, a trace of invitation in her eyes.
Wasn’t this exactly what he wanted? He had said it plainly on the day of the blind date.
But still, there was a faint reluctance.
Because of Zhu Xian, she still felt uncomfortable.
“Then why don’t you want to?” He could see she wasn’t lying. He paused slightly, his tone softened a little, his movements less harsh. One hand tilted her chin as he asked, “Aside from Miss Zhu, how many others do you have outside?—” She stopped, bitterness leaking through despite herself. “We’re already about to get married. I should at least have the right to know, shouldn’t I?”
For a moment, Shen Qingshi wanted to tell her: none. Never anyone.
Shen Qingxuan had introduced him to plenty of women over time, even bringing several home—different types, all kinds. Once, he even brought someone who resembled her.
He had been so furious he nearly froze all of Shen Qingxuan’s credit cards.
But he just didn’t want to tell her.
Seeing his silence, Chu Zhixia nodded slightly. She understood—he didn’t want her asking.
“Forget it. Sleep.”
Suddenly, he also lost interest. He let go of her wrists, straightened her messy quilt, and lay down behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“You’re sleeping here?”
Thinking of Zhu Xian—and possibly other women—being held like this before, she felt uncomfortable and tried to wriggle away.
He seemed to know what she was thinking. Instead of being angered by her resistance, he only held her tighter, gentler than before—almost as if he’d returned to how he once was.
“There won’t be anyone else in the future.”
He whispered into her ear, low and steady, as if making a promise.
But there had been… hadn’t there?
Still… whatever.
She pinched his arm hard.
After all, she had betrayed him first.
If he had others, it didn’t really matter.
But still—
She pinched him harder, again and again.
Shen Qingshi let her, almost as if he liked it, not making a sound. His body was burning. Finally, he couldn’t resist, and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, then to her fevered ear.
Slowly, slowly…
Her feelings stirred again under his kiss.
Of course, this was intentional—he wanted her to relive the past, to sink into the trap of longing and inescapability.
He was a man who understood too much, who knew exactly how to play.
Smart—and dangerous.
She tried to pry his arms away, but he only held her tighter, the heat growing stronger—
He paused, gaze dropping, fingers brushing lightly over her lips, his voice low and dangerous, like a demon’s whisper:
“Again?”
“Every inch of this place, you know it well. So many times already.” His tone was gentle, as if asking whether the room was comfortable. “How does it feel to live here?”
Chu Zhixia: “…”
Her breath hitched, lips trapped under his again—shame, anger, frustration, but also… a vast emptiness that nothing seemed to fill.
“What do you actually want?!”
She tore his hand away, body trembling, and sat up, glaring at him.
Only now did she truly realize how terrifying he was.
If every day was like this—if every time was like this—
She felt she would break down completely. Did he really want to ruin her?
“Why don’t you just strike me down cleanly?”
Better one decisive blow than this endless slow carving.
Just like how he treated the Chu family—nothing but a game of manipulation.
“—Shen. Qing. Shi!!!”
Seeing her fury rise, he seemed to sigh. He sat up, picked up the iced milk tea from the bedside, and handed it to her, even thoughtfully poking in the straw.
“Drink something cold. Cool down.” His voice was softer, gentler, more indulgent than ever before.
Chu Zhixia: !!!
She nearly hurled a pillow at his face.
He seemed to sense it, his brows twitching slightly. “Don’t want me to fix the Wi-Fi for you?” Then, straightening his rumpled shirt, he stood and walked over to the computer.
Chu Zhixia ground her teeth. “You’d better.”
Though, somehow, ever since she started pinching him so fiercely…
The atmosphere had eased, just a little.
**
“Is the internet working now?”
She had no other clothes to change into—something she only realized that night. Shen Qingshi was truly devious. He had taken her straight from the blind date; of course she hadn’t brought a change of clothes. And he would never allow her family to send any over.
Which meant the only clothes she had were the ones on her body.
After bathing, she didn’t want to put on what she had already worn, but the closet only had those clothes…
He really was—
Chu Zhixia leaned over, watching the network connect successfully, finally letting out a breath of relief. She sneaked a glance at his sharp, coldly handsome profile. He looked the same as always—but she knew he was terrifying.
The kind of terrifying that came from planning out her every move.
“It’s working.”
Sensing her gaze, he reached over and patted her hair.
“Then you can leave now.”
Though she felt guilty toward him, she hated this feeling of being controlled, of being toyed with.
Shen Qingshi raised a brow, as if surprised she would say something so heartless.
But Chu Zhixia could tell—he wasn’t truly angry. Since earlier, he had been much softer.
He drew her into his arms, settling her onto his lap.
“I’ll stay with you tonight.”
“If you want something, I’ll give it to you.”
He hadn’t meant to torment her—only to keep her by his side.
Chu Zhixia was lulled for a moment by his tenderness, thinking maybe pinching him had really calmed him down. But the next second, her back stiffened as danger pressed closer.
With the chill of his long fingers, the threat became undeniable—her arm hair stood on end, sweat breaking out.
“What are you doing—” her voice trembled.
“Shen Qingshi, don’t you dare—”
“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”
His arm locked tighter around her waist, keeping her still, his voice low and hoarse with restraint.
This was the one thing he regretted most. Luckily, she still hadn’t… His tone steadied a little.
He didn’t look angry now, his voice was patient and calm. But there was no room for negotiation. No room for doubt.
And she knew—he wasn’t doing this for punishment. Not for revenge.
He really wanted her!!!
“You—”
“Did you forget what I do for a living?”
He carried her back to the bed, turning her so her back faced him. His hands were steady, gentle, patient—bit by bit, slowly—trying to ease the tension in her stiffened back.
“Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.”
He even freed one hand to wipe away the sweat rolling down her forehead from fear and pain.
But this wasn’t about hurting or not hurting—this was!!!
Yet Chuzhi Xia could feel it—there was no turning back.
He was always like this: either he didn’t act, or once he decided, he followed through completely. And always with big things. Cold sweat slid down her temples; she kept breathing deeply, trying to adjust herself—mind, spirit, body.
Fortunately, he was a doctor. Like when he treated her teeth before, his hands were steady, his heart calm. His long, clean fingers were precise, firm, and patient.
“……”
She couldn’t get a word out.
Shen Qingshi held her close. He had studied countless materials and books beforehand, carefully guiding her through, letting her feel—bit by bit—the hidden currents of pleasure.
**
Late at night.
She finally couldn’t hold back, pleading softly, “It hurts—”
Shen Qingshi could only hug her tighter from behind, keeping her from moving. He’d read all kinds of research—bones, muscles, nerves—making sure there would be no problems.
And earlier, he had already seen it: the faint traces of her enjoyment. Maybe it was that he hadn’t seen her like this in so long, and he lost control—he’d been too hasty.
He slowed down.
But books never describe the details—sometimes going slower actually made it worse—
Her face was pale as she leaned against his chest, whispering only one word over and over: “Young Master Shen…”
She thought he was still trying to punish her.
He panicked instantly, trying to find the right rhythm.
Outside, the rain poured down.
Dense, relentless raindrops, sometimes heavy, sometimes light, striking the glass window, leaving long streaks of wetness.
When she finally exhaled a long sigh of relief, he kissed her damp, flushed cheek. The furrow between her brows eased, and a faint trace of joy appeared—Shen Qingshi finally relaxed.
—He had completely, fully obtained her. Every part of her.
He held her in his arms, kissing her again and again with tender pity.
He wanted to tell her everything he had been holding in all these days.
But in the end, he couldn’t say a word.
His heart ached—tinged with bitterness and grievance.
—Even now, even like this, even after going this far, he still couldn’t bring himself to be truly ruthless.
As she finally lay spent on the bed, eyes half-closed, about to drift off—
He pulled her back up, pressed her waist down, and once more… After all, the night was long. And here, there was only ever this.
When she jolted in fear, about to cry out in pain, he shut his eyes—he didn’t want to hear it.
“It’s always been me asking if it hurts…” He stroked her trembling body.
This time, he didn’t hold back.
“Do you know how much I hurt?”
He didn’t know if he was angry at her, or at himself, but he pressed her against the cold mirror, lifting her chin so she had to look straight at him.
…
…
…
So this was what it meant to make love out of hate.
When Chuzhi Xia next woke up, she couldn’t even tell what time of day it was outside that tall window.
So this was what it meant—love made out of hate???
She shut her eyes, dazed, letting her mind wander.
In the past, she always teased him, saying they were “making hate.” But every time, it wasn’t really so.
They would embrace, kiss, brush each other’s ears and cheeks. Sometimes they’d even smile at each other. She would put on music.
She loved to tease him, provoke him, bold and fiery with her words and gestures. He was so restrained, so uptight, lips always pressed tight—but he loved it. Sometimes he’d respond with action, until she was the one blushing with shame. And afterwards, in his low, husky voice, he would soothe her, praise her, call her “as beautiful as a goddess,” “so lovely, my baby.”
So when she used to joke about “making hate,” it had never been real.
The real thing was this—no kisses, no tenderness, no sweetness between lovers. Only… raw release.
At first, he had been gentle—maybe because it was her first time. But once she adapted, it became entirely…
And maybe it was this room, but in the end, she kept falling back into it, again and again.
He watched her intently, as if he had known from the beginning she would be like this. And he never kissed her—not once, except her hair, her cheek. When he was finished, he simply dressed and left.
No praise. No scooping her up afterwards to wash her. He didn’t even tuck in her blanket, didn’t even glance back at her.
So he did still hate her.
It was revenge, after all.
All that talk about “sleeping with her” was a lie. He only meant it literally—just sleep.
…
Her head spun.
So dizzy.
Pain. Still pain. Every limb ached.
Her body was covered in marks…
She glanced around. She had already realized it last night, but still—the fear overwhelmed her. He was terrifying. Truly terrifying.
A rational man—once he darkens—rushes headlong into madness. Once a boundary is broken, he tumbles deeper and deeper, fearless, unstoppable.
“……”
Chuzhi Xia picked up her phone, reminding herself to stay clear-headed.
Rubbing her eyes, she noticed—he had added her on WeChat, sometime last night or this morning.
There was one message:
[If you want to eat, tell me. I’ll have someone send food over.]
She glanced at the time—it must have been sent after he left, around noon. They had gone on for twelve hours, from last night until morning.
Now it was nearly evening.
And she was starving.
She typed:
[Where’s my king crab? And sashimi.]
No reply.
Not long after, she heard knocking at the door.
When she opened it—there really was king crab.
And sashimi, with some hot porridge and a few homely dishes, maybe worried the raw food would be too much. Along with fruit and desserts.
Chuzhi Xia wasn’t surprised. Harsh one moment, kind the next, sweet after bitter—a classic manipulator’s trick.
Still, at least she could finally get online. After resting a while, she forced herself to freshen up, then slowly made her way to the computer.
Luckily—luckily. Maybe she was just overly sensitive, but she figured it was a kind of protection. In the end, he must have applied some medicine, though she had no memory of it.
After eating a little and regaining some strength, she sat by the computer, nibbling on a crab claw, clicking open her game.
Seeing the familiar ranked match screen, she felt alive again. She let out a long sigh of relief.
She arranged the rest of the food around her. Her hands still hurt—he had gripped them hard—but she took her time, set the lamp to a warm glow. Somehow, it even looked cozy—like a weekend night meant for indulgence.
She snapped a photo and sent it to him.
[Not bad.]
She didn’t know why—maybe a bit of defiance? She just wanted him to see she didn’t care. That she was comfortable. Unbothered. Not trembling in fear under his power.
No reply.
She had even made sure to capture the game screen in the photo.
[Climbing ranks now. If you’re coming over, tell me first—I don’t want my teammates flaming me. Also, tomorrow I want wagyu. The best kind.]
She clearly saw the “typing…” indicator. She knew he was reading. But still—no response.
It wasn’t until much later, after she had nearly lost match after match all night, that his reply finally came.
Just two words:
[All right.]