Chapter 6 – Enemy, Yet Lovers (6)

From the bathroom came the patter of water.

At the desk, the video conference in the “Family Group” chat had abruptly ended over half an hour ago.

All they knew was that the young master had told them to investigate the movements of an angel.

But just as he was speaking, the man in the black shirt with extraordinary bearing on screen suddenly flushed red. After hastily blurting out “meeting adjourned,” he ended the call—leaving everyone around the round table staring blankly at each other.

“Ha…”

Cool water poured down from his head. Droplets ran off his hair, tracing along the firm contours of muscle, sliding down into the faintly defined lines of his abdomen.

Cen Yinian lifted his hand, wiped the water from his face, and braced his reddened knuckles against the mirror. His breath fogged the surface with a misty haze.

It was cool, yet burning.

Cold and heat intertwined, tormenting.

Cen Yinian almost wanted to barge in right now, seize the troublemaking little angel next door, and die right in her hands.

It was the longest bath he had ever taken.

The desire he had barely suppressed with cold water was stirred up again—by nothing more than the clueless little angel casually playing with something next door.

Sinking himself fully beneath the bathwater, Cen Yinian’s back itched unbearably. Something lacking in self-control threatened to burst free, heedless of being soaked, straining toward her—yearning to enclose her, to seek her touch, from head to toe.

Beside him was the girl humming off-key. Her voice was soft, light, like white feathers falling, yet it rippled through his heart.

He really…

He really wanted to snatch her away.

So she would only look at him, become his angel alone.

…

Harboring these dark thoughts, Cen Yinian’s glassy eyes glowed with an edge of red. He forced down the wings straining to unfurl, once again plunging his whole body beneath the cold water.

Not yet…

It wasn’t time yet.

The torture dragged on until half past nine, when the girl finally set the feather on the desk. Only then did his two-hour “ordeal” end.

This one?…
Hmm, maybe too conservative?
Not sure. I don’t really have any especially skimpy clothes… Maybe pajamas would do?
…

Her murmurs carried over faintly.

Fresh from the bath, Cen Yinian dried his hair, changed into a wine-red silk robe, and sprawled lazily on the sofa. His half-lidded eyes shimmered, his every gesture oozing a languid allure—like a man emptied out after passion.

But when he finally made out her words, his brows lifted sharply, and his eyes snapped open.

Skimpy clothes?

Delivering?

To whom?

She hadn’t said, but in that house there were only three people. Excluding the woman, that left one other man.

Cen Yinian quickly pieced it together:

His little angel was planning to dress provocatively to deliver something to another man…

How could that be? Just after letting him toy with her, how could his baby already betray him?

…

Under his lowered lashes, his eyes flickered crimson. Outside, the broken moon was smothered by dark clouds, draping the already dim night in deeper black.

Knock, knock—

“Come in.”

Ouyang Shaojing stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands behind his back.

He had thought it was Tang Yue coming. Turning around, the smile on his face froze when he unexpectedly saw Xin Ling at the door—in pajamas, holding a tray with coffee.

“You? Why are you here?”

His brows knitted, as if displeased by her presence.

“I saw your study light still on this late. I figured you must still be busy, so I brought you coffee to refresh yourself.”

Her long black hair draped softly down her back. With a gentle smile, dressed in light pink loungewear, she seemed especially caring and tender—unmistakably easy on the eyes.

Ouyang Shaojing’s throat felt suddenly dry.

He narrowed his eyes, lifted his chin, and gestured for her to enter. “Bring it in.”

He had long known Xin Ling liked him. If it had been before—before her wings were severed by demons—he might have considered her.

But now, she was basically useless, unworthy of his status.

Yet he couldn’t deny her beauty. Even compared with Tang Yue, she was no less attractive.

She adored him. Just the slightest scrap of affection from him would make her glow with joy for days.

Ouyang Shaojing knew his own charm well.

So he decided:

As long as Xin Ling behaved herself and didn’t cause trouble with Tang Yue, he could feign affection—keep her as his mistress on the side.

The very person about to be “granted” this favor was diligently completing her mission. Xin Ling set down the tray and was about to leave when suddenly a hand grabbed her wrist from behind.

He pulled her back, not letting her go.

She glanced down, then looked up, puzzled. “A’Jing, what is it? Is there something else?”

“Xin Ling, as long as you—”

“What are you doing?!”

A sharp voice rang from the doorway. The half-closed door was shoved open, and Tang Yue appeared—face full of shock and fury, like a wronged wife catching her man in the act.

But she had overestimated her position from the start. She was only a probationary guardian angel, not even officially confirmed.

Unable to bear it, Tang Yue ran out. Ouyang Shaojing instantly released Xin Ling’s hand. He shot her a complicated glance before rushing out after Tang Yue.

“A’Yue, wait, it’s not what you think!”

“A’Yue…”

…

Xin Ling blinked, rubbed her sore wrist, and slipped back to her room.

Mission complete. Rewards received!

The two of them had gone out. It was nearing eleven o’clock—it seemed they weren’t coming back tonight.

Xin Ling was just about to go to bed when her phone on the nightstand rang.

She picked it up. It was her neighbor.

“Hello, Mr. Cen? Why are you calling so late?”

“Cough… I, I’m not feeling well.” The man’s voice was hoarse, coughing, weak and feeble.

Xin Ling thought of how he had helped her chase off a thug, pick up her things, give her medicine, and invite her to meals. She couldn’t bear to ignore him.