Volume One, Chapter Fourteen: He wished to cover her entire body with marks like these.
Liang Jinmo knew that some people were only domineering in their own homes, but Xu Zhi was not one of them.
She was always obedient in front of her parents—her defiance was reserved for him alone.
She said she wouldn’t behave, and she meant it: no matter what he did, she refused to put on a jacket and insisted on drinking more. As she staggered to her feet, swaying toward the bartender, he could take no more. He dragged her firmly, pulling her through the crowd to a quiet hallway off the main hall.
Here it was empty and much quieter, lit by plain white incandescent bulbs. He tried again to talk to her. “Xu Zhi.”
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright with tears, and she rubbed her wrist where he had gripped her, her voice soft and petulant, “It hurts.”
Her skin was delicate, and a red mark had already appeared around her wrist. He stared at it for a few seconds before looking back at her aggrieved face, his mind torn between two impulses:
He regretted being so rough just now.
But at the same time, he wanted her body to be covered in such marks.
Xu Zhi held up her wrist for him to see. “Look, there’s a red mark.”
Liang Jinmo’s dark eyes were deeper than usual, his tone no longer calm. “If you keep this up, I’ll make sure you’re covered in them.”
Xu Zhi’s round almond eyes widened, genuinely startled, staring at him in a daze.
Liang Jinmo tugged at his shirt collar, feeling hot and restless. Just as he was about to take her away, footsteps sounded behind them.
A disheveled man emerged from the restroom at the end of the corridor, sauntering in their direction. At a glance, his gaze locked onto Xu Zhi’s damp shirtfront with a hungry stare.
Liang Jinmo stepped sideways, slipping an arm around Xu Zhi’s slender waist, completely blocking the man’s view.
After the man slunk away, Liang Jinmo looked down. Xu Zhi’s white shirt was half-transparent at the chest, water stains outlining the pale pink of her undergarments, the soft curves rising and falling with her breath.
His throat tightened, and he quickly looked away, forgetting that his hand was still at her waist.
Xu Zhi, feeling the embrace, found her desire for intimacy—stirred by the alcohol—welling up inside her. She couldn’t help but wrap her arms around his waist.
Liang Jinmo stiffened.
She nuzzled her cheek against his chest, heedless of the wine that had soaked through his clothes as well as hers, murmuring softly, “No one’s ever hugged me before…”
It wasn’t entirely true. She simply couldn’t remember at the moment.
Xu Heping had never hugged her, but when she was very young, Zhao Nianqiao used to. Later, though, Zhao Nianqiao became pregnant, all her attention shifting to her second child. After the miscarriage, Zhao and Xu Heping fought constantly, and Xu Zhi never received another embrace from her mother.
Liang Jinmo was silent for a moment, then draped the down jacket hanging over his elbow onto her shoulders. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
This time, Xu Zhi didn’t struggle. The jacket barely stayed on her, but she clung tightly to him, making it impossible to walk.
The wine had soaked through the thin fabric pressed between them. She held him so firmly that he could distinctly feel the unfamiliar softness of her body, making it impossible to think clearly. He let her hold him for a while, and soon noticed that the fabric against his chest was wet, too.
Looking down, he saw Xu Zhi’s face buried in his shirt, her shoulders trembling.
Liang Jinmo had witnessed drunken madness before, heard confessions loosed by alcohol, and seen people sobbing with snot and tears. But tonight, he saw all three in one.
His hand clenched and unclenched, then slowly rose to rest on her head, gently ruffling her hair. “Let’s take you back to school, all right?”
Perhaps she’d exhausted her rebelliousness. With teardrops still clinging to her lashes, she nodded quietly against his chest.
But she still didn’t let go.
He realized it would fall to him to end the embrace—but this was no easy task.
“You’re making it impossible to walk,” he said.
“I can walk,” she insisted, shuffling a small step, “We can walk sideways.”
Liang Jinmo: “…”
He was nearly at his wits’ end with this drunken girl. With a sigh, he raised his hand, about to gently push her away, when she suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth.
All his instincts screamed a warning—he remembered yet another type of drunk: the one who vomits.
Almost at the same instant that he stepped back, Xu Zhi retched and threw up.
Liang Jinmo could have killed someone.
He dragged Xu Zhi to the restroom, cleaning himself up at the public sink while making a quick call for a driver.
After a rough wash, the front of his shirt was utterly soaked. He glanced at Xu Zhi with a dark expression.
Her aim had been impeccable—she’d thrown up all over him and not a drop on herself. He forced her to rinse her mouth and wash her face.
He was brisk and forceful now, with no hint of gentleness. After washing her face, Xu Zhi mumbled, “So fierce…”
“Liang Muzhi isn’t fierce—why don’t you go bother him instead?” His tone was sharp, but even he found it pointless.
What was the use of reasoning with a drunk?
It seemed his words had pricked her. Xu Zhi pursed her lips, lowered her head, and said nothing more.
Liang Jinmo led her out of the bar. He’d intended to take her back to campus, but now, changing his clothes was an urgent matter. He had the driver take them directly to his hotel.
Upstairs, he pushed Xu Zhi into the guest bathroom. “Clean up in here.”
Then he went to his own bathroom, showered, and changed clothes as quickly as possible.
When he returned, the living room was empty, the bathroom was empty, and Xu Zhi was nowhere to be seen.
His heart tightened—he strode toward the door to leave, but as he bent to change his shoes, he caught sight of the guest room door ajar.
He immediately went in.
The lights were off, but the glow from the living room spilled in, illuminating the figure lying curled on the bed.
Xu Zhi was fast asleep, her breathing slow and steady.
He let out a silent sigh of relief.
Leaning against the doorframe, he watched her for a long, quiet moment.
Perhaps uncomfortable from the wine-soaked clothes clinging to her skin, she’d tugged at her collar, leaving it stretched and askew. A line of light and shadow fell across the pale skin at her throat and chest, but she was oblivious.
Liang Jinmo did not look away, his hawk-like eyes silently measuring his prey.
Who knew how much time passed.
At last, he straightened, crept close, and gently pulled the blanket over her before leaving the room.
The next morning.
Xu Zhi woke with a splitting headache.
She had no alcohol tolerance, and this time she’d blacked out. She could only remember going to the bar with Liang Jinmo and Zhou He, ordering tequila with a show of bravado—after that, her memory was a blank.
So this was what drunkenness felt like.
She squinted, recognizing the guest room at Liang Jinmo’s place—she’d been here before.
She reached for her phone to check the time, but couldn’t find it.
She got up in a panic and hurried to the living room.
Liang Jinmo was just emerging from his bedroom, fastening his shirt cuffs with one hand.
She spotted him and blurted out, “Where’s my phone? I promised Yang Xue I’d meet her at the library today.”
Liang Jinmo pointed to the sofa.
Her down jacket had been tossed there the night before. She rushed over, dug her phone from the pocket, and powered it on.
While she waited, she massaged her throbbing temples and sat on the sofa, pushing back her tangled hair.
Now that she was sober, she realized how bold she had been last night.
Liang Jinmo asked, “You only care about your phone?”
She glanced at him in confusion. “It’s hard to get a seat in the library. I have to let Yang Xue know—if she saves me a spot and I don’t show, that’s really rude. Besides, I didn’t go back all night, I should explain myself.”
“So you do know what embarrassment is,” Liang Jinmo muttered, looking away.
Xu Zhi was completely at a loss. “What do you mean?”
Liang Jinmo filled his cup at the water dispenser before replying, and even then he didn’t answer her question directly. “You wake up hungover in my room, and you have nothing to ask about last night?”