Chapter 2

“Really?”

Xu Wangzhi raised an eyebrow.

“I’d like to see what you can do to me.”

He lowered his head, his lips wantonly plundering hers.

His long, bony fingers weren’t idle either—starting their invasion and conquest.

Of all the things she guarded against, she never imagined he’d dare to do something so vile to her right here, in the Jian household.

Wen Jianxin’s eyes widened in horror. She used every ounce of strength to try to push him away.

Xu Wangzhi frowned, displeased with her resistance, and firmly pinned down her hands.

The kiss grew deeper.

The movements, more reckless.

The sounds of intimacy filled the air.

Wen Jianxin’s face flushed scarlet. She couldn’t understand how things had spiraled to this.

She was supposed to be breaking off their engagement. And now she was about to lose everything.

It wasn’t until the searing, tearing pain coursed through her that she felt as if she were trapped in a nightmare.

Tears slipped down unconsciously as her heart went cold and still, like it had stopped beating altogether.

She wondered why—why, even though she screamed so loudly for help, no one came.

And she wondered why he didn’t just die—why he had to treat her this way.

What had she done so wrong to deserve this torment?

She stared coldly at the man’s closed eyes and tight lips, then, without hesitation, raised her hand to slap him.

Beast!

One day, she swore, she would kill him!

But Xu Wangzhi, ever sharp, sensed her movement. Without even opening his eyes, he caught her hand.

With a grunt, he rolled over, dragging her with him.

His palm, as unyielding as iron, clamped around her waist. His smile was wild, wicked, and his voice low and hoarse, tinged with dark allure.

“Do it yourself. Please me, and maybe I’ll consider letting you go.”

Yes, he was humiliating Wen Jianxin, retaliating against her attempt to escape.

His gaze was mocking, sharp as a blade.

Break off the engagement? Hah. Don’t even dream about it.

Wen Jianxin clenched her fists and, without a word, punched his face.

Xu Wangzhi’s expression turned ice-cold. He gripped her wrist with such force it felt as though he might crush it to pieces.

“So disobedient. In that case, I don’t need to hold back anymore.”

He flipped her over, showing no pity.

Cruel, degrading, shattering her dignity underfoot, grinding it into nothing.

Wen Jianxin cried out in pain, her body curling in on itself.

Yet even then, the man did not relent.

That entire afternoon, she didn’t even know how she endured.

She only knew—she was ruined. Her whole life was ruined.

He was a demon.

A demon sent only to torment her, to drag her into the deepest pits of hell.

Xu Wangzhi, looking utterly satisfied, leaned against the headboard, his eyes roaming over the trembling woman curled up beside him.

His anger had mostly dissipated, and only then did he realize—perhaps he’d gone a little too far.

He reached out, pulling her into his arms, lifting her chin to force her to meet his gaze. His tone softened slightly.

“Still want to break off the engagement?”

Wen Jianxin turned her face away in disgust, gritting her teeth.

“Marry you? Dream on!”

She tried to get up, but his sudden tightening grip dragged her back.

A sharp, piercing pain shot up from her ankle. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, her face pale as paper.

It was easy to guess—her ankle was likely fractured.

Enduring the agony, she propped herself up on her elbows, inching slowly toward the edge of the bed, her movements mechanical, frigid.

“Marry you? Dream on. For someone as inhuman and vile as you—even if I die, I will never marry you.”

“Good. Very good. Seems you’ll never learn to submit.”

Xu Wangzhi sneered. He leaned over, caging her in his arms. Like a wild beast, he bit savagely at her lips.

Soon, the taste of blood spread between them.

Wen Jianxin frowned in pain, but refused to make a sound.

She would never yield—never.

This whole ordeal, she told herself, was nothing more than a dog bite.

When the chance came, she would see him dead.

Just as Xu Wangzhi was about to take things further, a knock came at the door.

“Jianxin, I’m coming in,” her mother’s voice said.

A spark of hope flickered in Wen Jianxin’s eyes. She shoved him away with all her strength, screaming sharply:

“Mom! Help me!”

At once, the door swung open.

Seeing the scene inside, Shang Lingzhu froze in disbelief, eyes wide, body stiff.

Her daughter—completely bare.

And the culprit—the very man who was supposed to be her future son-in-law.

For a moment, her mind went blank. Then, recovering, she snapped angrily:

“What are you two doing?!”

The sight before her was obscene, filthy, unbearable.

She looked only once before averting her eyes, her face alternating between pale and livid.

Xu Wangzhi had already pulled the blanket over himself and Wen Jianxin.

Being caught like this—this too was something he had planned.

All to ensure she would be his.

After all, the Wen family was conservative.

Now, Wen Jianxin had no choice but to marry him.

Truthfully, had she been just as rigid and dull as the rest of her family, he wouldn’t have been so obsessed—so desperate to have her.

But now, he was more than satisfied with their rigidity.

If not for that, he might never have gotten the chance to marry someone like her.

Her stubborn, unyielding nature—once she decided something, not even ten oxen could drag her back. Especially when it came to marrying him. Sometimes, it was frustrating.

But that thought didn’t show on his face—or in his heart.

Xu Wangzhi was ruthless.

Whether toward others, or toward himself.

To him, anything he desired—no matter the cost, no matter the hatred it earned—he had to obtain.

Like Wen Jianxin.

And eventually, even her heart.

Unable to bear the stench of the room or the sight of the two, Shang Lingzhu said coldly:

“Get dressed. Come downstairs.”

Then turned and walked out.

Wen Jianxin cried sharply:

“Mom! He forced me! Aren’t you going to stand up for me?”

Without looking back, Shang Lingzhu said:

“Get dressed. We’ll talk downstairs.”

In her mind, the rice was already cooked. It no longer mattered who forced whom. What mattered was how to cover it up.

Wen Jianxin fell into despair, bitter sorrow twisting in her chest.

Her mother—rather than seeking justice for her daughter’s violation—cared only for appearances, for preserving false peace.

Xu Wangzhi glanced at her, then casually got out of bed and dressed.

He went to the wardrobe, pulled out a set of clothes, and brought them to her.

“Will you dress yourself, or shall I?”

Wen Jianxin glared icily at him.

“Beast.”

Xu Wangzhi arched a brow.

“Sounds like you want me to do it for you.”

He pulled her from the blanket and, with rough hands, forced the clothes onto her.

Wen Jianxin struggled, her sharp nails raking bloody lines across his skin.

Red stained his white shirt, marking him with raw wounds.

Even so, Wen Jianxin felt no relief. Only an endless, burning hatred that made her wish she could tear him apart alive.

Once dressed, she staggered to the desk, grabbed a vase, and hurled it at him.

He dodged. She picked up another—then a cup, then any sharp object within reach—throwing them all.

Xu Wangzhi could dodge once or twice, but not forever.

At last, a heavy inkstone struck his head. Blood gushed down his face, dripping from his chin—a ghastly sight.

But Wen Jianxin didn’t stop. She rushed to the window, seized an even larger vase, and hurled it with all her strength.

The blow from the inkstone had already left him dizzy. Seeing her raise the vase, his pupils shrank.

She truly wanted him dead.

Wen Jianxin sneered.

“I told you—even if I die, I will never marry you. You dared to treat me like this today, but one day—I swear—I’ll see you dead!”