Chapter 27 His Tongue Entering Her Mouth

Chapter 27: His Tongue Delved into Her Mouth

Chen Yanqing pressed his lips together, tilting his head back to drain the cup in one swift motion. The liquor burned a fiery path down his throat, scorching through his lungs like wildfire and stoking the most primal desire within him—one he loathed.

He tried, as he always did, to suppress this absurd and unwelcome craving. It should have been effortless, yet the opposite occurred. Perhaps it was the extra wine he had consumed, but the fire refused to be extinguished, only growing fiercer.

Lowering his gaze, Chen Yanqing idly turned the empty wine cup between his fingers, a smile of bitter mockery flickering in his eyes.

*

After leaving Jisheng Tower, Shu Yan sensed Chen Yanqing’s black mood. He leaned back against the carriage cushions with his eyes closed, feigning sleep, his brow furrowed in displeasure.

Shu Yan couldn’t guess the cause. Had something one of the guild owners said provoked him?

Absorbed in thought, he barely noticed when the carriage came to a halt outside the Chen residence.

"Young Master, we’ve arrived," Shu Yan whispered.

Chen Yanqing opened his eyes and stepped out of the carriage.

It was deep into the night, and the estate lay in perfect stillness. As he walked along the stone path in the garden, the only sounds were his footsteps and the sporadic birdsong. The clear, distant calls in the quiet night soothed some of the turmoil in his mind.

A breeze rustled through the trees, carrying away the lingering scent of alcohol and the smoldering heat within him. His dark eyes gradually regained their usual clarity.

When he reached the fork leading to Xiaohuang Residence, he noticed a pale glow emanating from Shifang Hall. The light stretched out like an unseen hook, halting his steps.

Bathed in moonlight, Shifang Hall was veiled in a misty luminescence. At this hour, the only person inside would be Song Yinrou.

The suppressed fire within him flared back to life with terrifying speed, clawing its way out of his chest and seizing his reason.

No one should have this kind of hold over him. Song Yinrou was exquisitely beautiful, with an innate ability to inspire protectiveness, but that was all.

Yet now, she had repeatedly unsettled his equilibrium. Every anomaly had a cause—once he identified the root, he could excise it entirely.

Shu Yan, noticing Chen Yanqing’s abrupt pause, asked uncertainly, "Young Master?"

"Don’t follow," Chen Yanqing ordered before striding toward Shifang Hall with heavy steps.

...

The sound of the door opening was harsh in the still night. Yin Rou, standing with her back to the entrance as she arranged scriptures on the shelf, startled at the noise.

She turned in alarm, her heart pounding when she saw Chen Yanqing standing in the doorway—someone she hadn’t seen in so long.

Chen Yanqing stepped inside, bringing with him a cool night breeze that made Yin Rou shiver slightly. Her voice was as soft as the wind as she spoke, "Third Young Master."

The words, bitten gently between her white teeth, carried her unique scent as they slipped past her lips and into Chen Yanqing’s ears.

It was like feeding the flames in his chest.

He took a slow breath. "Why are you still here so late?"

Yin Rou blinked her wide, dark eyes twice before nervously averting his scrutinizing gaze.

After Yu He left, she had been lost in thought, wondering how she could possibly please the Third Young Master enough to earn his help. That, of course, was something she could never admit. Biting her lip, she stammered an excuse. "I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d stay a little longer."

Chen Yanqing could easily tell she was lying. Her eyes refused to meet his, her cheeks flushed, and her soft lips were caught between her teeth, leaving faint marks—as if they had been bruised.

His gaze darkened as it traveled over her.

Just moments ago, Yin Rou had felt chilled by the night air, but now her exposed skin burned with strange heat, like embers scattering across her body, spreading warmth wherever they landed.

Confused, she lifted her gaze—her eyes wide and guileless, like a rabbit’s.

Just as Chen Yanqing had thought, she effortlessly stirred both tenderness and the darkest, most base instincts in others.

Seeing the furrow between his brows, Yin Rou’s heart hammered nervously. The Third Young Master’s eyes were like blades that could lay bare her soul. Every time he looked at her, she felt utterly exposed.

Their previous encounters had already shown her just how cold he could be. She knew she should be circumspect, but she couldn’t think of any other way to escape her slave status.

Two conflicting thoughts tangled in her mind as the room silently filled with the intertwining of their breath. Yin Rou caught a faint whiff of alcohol—had the Third Young Master been drinking?

Gathering her nerve, she dared another glance. His dark eyes were even deeper than usual.

Her thoughts raced, her heart tightening. Opportunities to see the Third Young Master were rare—she couldn’t waste this one.

No matter how much her mind urged her forward, her feet refused to move. She feared his frosty countenance, and the mere thought of it made her resolve falter.

After clenching her fingers several times, she finally took a step.

She approached him slowly, her shadow stretching across the floor until it merged with his, as if he were devouring her inch by inch. An inexplicable fire swelled in her chest, leaving Chen Yanqing dry-mouthed.

At last, she stood before him, tilting her face up to whisper, "Have you been drinking?"

"A little," he replied.

Her breath trembled with nerves. "Then... perhaps the Third Young Master should sit and rest for a while. I’ll prepare some sobering soup."

Her lips parted and closed, her pink tongue darting in and out of sight—as if consciously tantalizing.

Chen Yanqing narrowed his eyes slightly, assessing whether it was intentional.

When no response came, Yin Rou gritted her teeth and declared, "I’ll go now."

She hurried out of the room, pausing to compose herself before rushing to the nearest kitchen.

Fearing Chen Yanqing might leave, she prepared the soup as quickly as possible and raced back, panting as she pushed the door open. She exhaled in relief when she saw him still seated in the armchair.

"Third Young Master, it’s ready."

The candles in the room had burned halfway, their dim light gathering at Chen Yanqing’s feet while his figure remained swallowed by shadows. Only when Yin Rou drew closer did she realize his eyes were closed—was he asleep?

Setting the soup down quietly, she timidly ventured, "Third Young Master?"

When he didn’t respond, a thousand possibilities raced through her mind. Finally, she summoned her courage and reached out with trembling fingers.

Her shaking hand was caught mid-air. Yin Rou barely stifled a gasp, her pupils shrinking as she met Chen Yanqing’s slowly opening eyes.

"What are you doing?" His gaze flicked to the small, helplessly curled hand in his grasp before lifting to her face.

His dark, bottomless gaze was like an abyss—impossible to read, devoid of clarity or emotion. Yin Rou’s heart lodged in her throat as she opened her mouth, then closed it again.

That flash of pink tongue appeared before Chen Yanqing’s eyes before disappearing again. If this wasn’t calculated provocation, what was?

"I asked—what are you doing?"

Each word dripped with agonizing slowness, scraping against Yin Rou's eardrums—not an interrogation, yet more tormenting than one.

It eroded the fragile composure she had barely managed to reconstruct. Battling through the turmoil in her heart, she clung to a thread of calm. "I saw the Third Young Master asleep and... I was afraid you might catch a chill. S-so I..."

Even she found the excuse feeble, her voice trailing off as she pressed her lips together.

"Have I not warned you repeatedly? No next time—remember your position." Chen Yanqing's grip tightened as he fixed his gaze on her tear-filled eyes. "Why won't you listen?"

The harsh questioning drained her strength. She wanted to promise obedience, but doing so meant losing this opportunity forever. "I... I... I'm in love with the Third Young Master."

The words, torn from her throat, shattered the hesitation and fear barricading her heart—and left no room for retreat.

She knew it was wrong, but she had no other choice.

"In love?" Chen Yanqing echoed, his expression darkening with dangerous intensity.

In love with him, yet she kept calling another man's name?

"Yes. Ever since I arrived at the Chen household, the Third Young Master has been the only one who treated me kindly. Gradually, I... I just..." Her voice weakened, the words sounding like lies even to herself. Finally, she pressed her lips shut and instead lightly tugged at Chen Yanqing's sleeve, repeating, "I'm in love with the Third Young Master."

Still lying. He should have cast her out immediately. Yet his hold on her slender wrist only tightened, the veins on the back of his hand bulging as his thumb pressed down in slow, punishing circles.

The increasing pressure made her wince. She expected him to shove her away—but he didn’t. His breath, heavy with alcohol, brushed over her face.

Her fingers, clutching his sleeve, curled tighter. Shame flushed her cheeks, but she forced trembling words past her lips: "That night... when I was drugged... you took my body."

"I know I’m unworthy of you. I don’t dare hope for anything more. I only beg... to remain by your side."

Each word, laced with her warm fragrance, seeped into his senses, unraveling his restraint. The liquor-fueled hunger found its opening and surged forward.

She hadn't always addressed him with such formality. When had that begun? Likely the moment she started scheming, the moment she set her sights on him.

Every act trespassed his boundaries. Chen Yanqing no longer cared to decipher the calculation behind her eyes. His darkened gaze settled instead on her parted lips, and suddenly, Chen Yanlin’s taunt rang in his ears—

*Did it feel good?*

Darkness swallowed reason whole.

He had warned her countless times. Yet instead of retreating, she grew bolder—was it because she counted on his weakness for her? Or did she truly believe he would fall for her seduction? His gaze, locked onto her lips, turned dangerous. With a sharp tug on her wrist, he pulled her toward him.

Yin Rou lost her balance, stumbling forward. Just as she thought she would collapse, his hand seized her waist, pulling her flush against him. His handsome face loomed closer—then his lips crashed onto hers.

Her mind went blank. Was the Third Young Master... kissing her? If not for the scorching heat of his mouth, she might have believed it a dream.

A hot, ragged breath brushed her lips before his tongue slipped past them. Yin Rou had never been kissed before. Instinctively, she clenched her lips shut.

But then his fingers gripped her chin, forcing her mouth open. His blazing tongue invaded, tangling with hers.

She didn’t know if this was how kisses were supposed to be—tongues entwined, breaths mingling, wet, dizzying intimacy. Shame burned through her, making her want to pull away.

At first, she could still resist. Soon, there was no escape.

Her mouth filled with his taste, her tongue wearied by his relentless assault. The numbness spread to the base of her tongue, then through her veins, leaving her limp and lightheaded, unable to think.

From panic to reluctant surrender, she began responding.

Chen Yanqing’s rough, uneven breaths intertwined with her soft, trembling ones—a stark contrast, yet strangely harmonious.

"Mmm..." A whimper escaped her when she could no longer breathe.

The sound, sweet and desperate, snapped something inside him. He could hear his own breathing—hoarse, uncontrolled. He realized how recklessly he was kissing her, how far gone he had become.

He had betrayed the principles he had upheld for over twenty years, becoming the very kind of man he despised.

His grip on her jaw tightened as the kiss turned savage, nearly violent.

Only when the metallic taste of blood reached him did he jerk back, releasing her.

Her small, pale chin bore angry red fingerprints. Her swollen lips were split, a faint trace of blood staining them. Chen Yanqing stared, his brow twitching.

After a long silence, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

The suffocating presence around Yin Rou gradually lifted. She gasped for air, thoughts slowly returning to her dazed mind.

The lingering sting on her lips confirmed it wasn’t a dream—the Third Young Master had ravaged her mouth.

Her lashes fluttered as another wave of dizziness hit. When she finally steadied herself and opened her eyes, her vision blurred with tears. She could only make out Chen Yanqing’s motionless figure, eyes shut, reclining in the chair—missing the throbbing vein at his temple.

The ghost of liquor still lingered in his breath. Was it merely the drink?

Otherwise, he would have coldly reprimanded her, reminding her of her place.

"Leave," Chen Yanqing said, eyes still closed.

His voice was no longer clear and composed—just rough, strained, as though holding back something unspeakable.

Yin Rou’s heart sank. Of course. But at least she had taken another step forward, hadn’t she?

She tried to comfort herself, but when she attempted a small smile, the pain from her bruised lips flared—along with the bitter ache in her chest.

The hesitant groan of the door, followed by the soft click as it shut. Silence reclaimed the room.

Too silent. So silent that Chen Yanqing could still hear the muffled little cries Song Yinrou had made when overwhelmed by his kiss.

The vein at his temple throbbed visibly. His throat moved as he swallowed hard, his aristocratic features briefly twisting into something almost feral.

*

Dawn carried autumn’s first chill. Yin Rou still wasn’t accustomed to Xiyu Pass’s climate—back in Jiangnan, it would still be warm at this time of year.

She sat by the window, transcribing Buddhist scriptures, the lattice shadows casting dappled patterns on the paper—much like the turmoil in her heart.

Several days had passed since that night. The Third Young Master hadn’t returned. That kiss, that intimacy—shouldn’t it have brought her peace? Yet his icy indifference left her suspended, unable to find solid ground.

The more restless her heart, the messier her handwriting became. She paused, shaking her head to clear her thoughts, then forced herself to continue.

By noon, hunger finally drove her to set down the brush and step outside.

As she walked along the path toward the kitchen, footsteps approached. She stepped aside to let the person pass—but they stopped directly in front of her.

"It's been days. How are you, Yin Rou *meimei*?"

She looked up into Liu Zhiyi’s eyes glinting with feigned concern. The truth about how she had been drugged that night wasn’t difficult to guess. From the beginning, Liu Zhiyi had approached her with calculated schemes—to ruin her. And she, naïve fool that she’d been, had mistaken it for kindness.

An icy fury settled in Yin Rou’s chest. What baffled her most was—why would Liu Zhiyi assist Chen Yanlin?

But it no longer mattered, as they now kept their distance.

Yin Rou lowered her head and said, "Greetings, Sixth Concubine."

"You honor me too much by calling me 'Concubine,' sister." Liu Zhiyi no longer maintained her friendly pretense, her gaze filled with resentment and envy as she stared at Yin Rou.

These concubines were now confined to a single courtyard, no better than being imprisoned. If not for her efforts to flatter Wu Shi, accompanying her daily in chanting scriptures, she wouldn’t even be allowed to leave the courtyard.

Yet Song Yinrou remained untouched by it all—even Wu Shi had no hold over her.

Why did she always get the upper hand? Even the Fifth Young Master had eyes only for her!

Yin Rou had no intention of engaging with her and bowed slightly. "If there’s nothing else, I shall take my leave now."

With that, she walked right past Liu Zhiyi.

Hatred burned in Liu Zhiyi’s eyes. Once, she had felt guilt toward Yin Rou, but now that guilt had been utterly consumed by jealousy. Noticing two maids from Ruxin Residence in the distance, she turned her back and pretended to be in conversation—

"Sister Yinrou, how could you be so bold?"

"The Fifth Young Master is far beyond your reach. How dare you wait for him to save you?"

"How foolish."

...

The atmosphere in Ruxin Residence was heavy. Wu Shi sat stiffly on a carved daybed, her face dark with anger, while Nanny Lu eagerly whispered suggestions. When Liu Zhiyi entered, Wu Shi’s piercing glare shot toward her. "I have questions for you."

Liu Zhiyi barely had time to bow before she dropped to her knees. "What does Madam wish to ask?"

"You just saw Song Yinrou? What did she say to you?"

A triumphant gleam flashed in Liu Zhiyi’s lowered eyes.

"This..." She hesitated, lifting her head with feigned reluctance.

Wu Shi slammed the table. "Speak!"

Liu Zhiyi pretended to tremble in fear, acting as though she dared not hide anything, and spilled everything. In the end, she added hypocritically, "This humble one believes Song Yinrou must have lost her mind for a moment. Please, Madam, calm your anger."

Wu Shi could never tolerate such a thing. "Bring her to me at once."

"Madam, please don’t be angry."

Nanny Lu still remembered the dozen slaps from last time and dared not simply go to Shifang Hall to fetch someone.

"Madam must not forget the Third Young Master," she reminded in a low voice.

Wu Shi’s face twisted with rage, alternating between red and white. That lowly maid had set her sights on the Fifth Young Master—how could she pretend not to know?

"Madam must not clash with the Third Young Master again." Nanny Lu thought for a moment, then leaned in and hissed, "In a few days, you and the Old Madam will visit the temple to light the eternal lamp for the master. The Third Young Master will likely go as well. When the time comes, this servant will find a way to deal with her."

Wu Shi turned to look at Nanny Lu, whose narrow, upturned eyes gleamed with malice. "Madam need not worry."

*

...

A few days later, Yin Rou could bear it no longer and went to Xiaohuang Residence.

Standing beneath the moon gate, her heart pounded, her feet hidden beneath her skirt too hesitant to step forward.

Shu Yan emerged from the main hall and noticed someone at the moon gate. Wondering who it was, he approached and, upon recognizing her, his expression turned peculiar. "What are you doing here?" he muttered.

Yin Rou was still debating whether to enter when she heard Shu Yan’s voice. Her dark eyes darted nervously as she pressed her lips together. "I wish to see the Third Young Master."

"The Young Master hasn’t been in the residence these past few days."

Yin Rou glanced past him in surprise—was he truly not here?

Shu Yan’s expression was even more puzzled than hers. The Young Master rarely stayed away overnight unless the merchant affairs were truly overwhelming, yet it had been several days now.

"Then... did the Third Young Master say when he would return?" Yin Rou asked.

Shu Yan shook his head. How would he know? Nowadays, he understood the Young Master’s thoughts less and less.

Especially when it came to Song Yinrou. Shu Yan suddenly recalled that the Young Master had begun staying outside after that night at Shifang Hall. He quickly added in a polite tone, "I’m not sure."

Yin Rou nodded lightly. She had thought the Third Young Master was avoiding her, but it seemed he was merely busy.

With this self-reassurance, the weight in her heart eased slightly.

...

Autumn had arrived, and the begonias in the garden bloomed in vast clusters. Yin Rou needed to return to Shifang Hall and had no mind to linger and admire the flowers, but someone called out to her.

She turned toward the voice and saw Chen Lingxue in the pavilion, seated beside a young lady Yin Rou had never met before.

As luck would have it, this Sixth Miss had long held grievances against her. Being stopped now surely meant no good.

Chen Lingxue lazily glanced at her. "Come here."

Yin Rou had no choice but to approach and curtsy. "Greetings, Sixth Miss."

Chen Lingxue looked her over, satisfied with her current plight, and lifted her chin with haughty disdain. "Pour tea for me and Miss Zhao."

Yin Rou stepped forward and picked up the teapot to serve.

Chen Lingxue touched the cup with her finger and frowned in displeasure. "It’s cold."

Yin Rou knew she was picking on her but hoped to keep the peace. "I’ll go change it."

She took the teapot and left the pavilion. Chen Lingxue sniffed disdainfully.

"Why trouble this maid for no reason?"

A gentle voice, tinged with kindness, spoke beside her.

Chen Lingxue turned to Zhao Hanyue. "Sister Zhao, you don’t understand."

"What do you mean?" Zhao Hanyue glanced in the direction Yin Rou had left.

"She was originally a slave who used seductive wiles to coax my father into keeping her in the residence, even having others call her 'Miss.'" Chen Lingxue’s words were filled with disdain.

"She once bewitched my father. Tell me, Sister Zhao, shouldn’t I punish her?"

Zhao Hanyue had thought her an ordinary maid but now learned of this past. A trace of disdain flickered in her delicately furrowed brows, though she said nothing further.

Chen Lingxue, however, started rambling. "Originally, Mother intended to cast her out of the household, but Third Brother, out of kindness, kept her."

Zhao Hanyue’s lashes fluttered slightly as she looked at Chen Lingxue. "Third Cousin?" Chen Lingxue nodded. "You know how soft-hearted my Third Brother is. Seeing Song Yinrou putting on a pitiful act, he ordered her to stay and copy scriptures in Shifang Hall in penance."

"Isn't the Hall of Ten Directions where the late mistress used to copy scriptures?"

Zhao Hanyue's hands resting on her lap curled slightly. She had heard that Third Young Master forbade outsiders from entering the Hall of Ten Directions—how could he permit a mere maidservant to copy scriptures there?

"It's a long story," Chen Lingxue mused for a moment before waving her hand dismissively. "Forget about her. In short, she simply got lucky, and my third brother is exceptionally kind."

Zhao Hanyue pursed her lips in a faint smile, though her doubts remained. It was true that Third Young Master was always gentle and treated servants well, but she knew that beneath his mild exterior, he was a deeply aloof person. Even toward her, his demeanor was indifferent.

And for so long, no one had ever broken the rule of the Hall of Ten Directions.

Third Young Master would never take a liking to her, but from what Chen Lingxue said, this woman was cunning—who knew what schemes she might be plotting? Zhao Hanyue had glanced at her earlier, and indeed, she was extraordinarily beautiful.

"You said this maidservant is skilled at acting pretentious. What if she puts on a pitiful act in front of Third Young Master and complains, even going so far as to speak ill of you and Madam Wu?" Zhao Hanyue frowned, looking at Chen Lingxue with concern.

"She wouldn't dare to!" Chen Lingxue's brows shot up coldly before she suddenly remembered something and gave Zhao Hanyue a mysterious smile. "Don't worry, Sister. She won’t get the chance."

Zhao Hanyue looked at her in confusion.

"I heard from Mother that in a few days, when we go to the temple, she’ll be kicked out of the estate."

"Wouldn’t that be... harsh?" Zhao Hanyue lowered her lashes, concealing her expression.

"Sister, you’re too kind-hearted," Chen Lingxue scoffed, unconcerned. "Let me tell you, you can’t indulge servants who scheme."

Zhao Hanyue listened and nodded thoughtfully.

Yin Rou returned to the pavilion with hot tea. "Sixth Miss, your tea."

Chen Lingxue and Zhao Hanyue both turned to look at her. Not wanting to cause trouble now, Chen Lingxue waved her off. "Fine, just set it down."

"Yes." Yin Rou placed the tea down and withdrew, her face went pale the moment she turned away.

She had overheard Chen Lingxue’s words—Wu Shi still wouldn’t leave her alone.

Once Yin Rou was out of earshot, Chen Lingxue said to Zhao Hanyue, "Sister, don’t let this upset you."

"Of course not." Zhao Hanyue smiled faintly.

Chen Lingxue grinned mischievously. "I know—only Third Brother can sway Sister’s feelings."

Zhao Hanyue’s gentle face flushed crimson, and she scolded in embarrassment, "What nonsense are you saying?"

"I’m not talking nonsense!"

Chen Lingxue had a triumphant look, making Zhao Hanyue both flushed and flustered. "I won’t speak to you anymore!"

Chen Lingxue covered her mouth with her hand. "Alright, alright, I won’t say another word."

...

The night was late, and the wind howled as Chen Yanqing walked through the garden, his dark robes fluttering behind him. Shu Yan trailed after him, completely bewildered.

In the past few days, when the young master had free time, he hadn’t returned. Yet tonight, despite finishing his duties late, he rushed back.

Was it because of that mention of Song Yinrou...?

Shu Yan speculated silently, watching as Chen Yanqing bypassed Xuanhe Hall and Xiaohuang Residence, heading instead toward the Hall of Ten Directions. His face fell in despair.

But the Hall of Ten Directions was completely dark.

Chen Yanqing stood under the moonlight, gazing at the darkened building. After a long moment, a cold smile flickered across his face.

What was he doing?

Hearing that Song Yinrou had asked for him, he had hurried back.

Again and again, he broke his own rules for her, going against his principles.

He erased the smile and turned away without hesitation.

Beyond the maple grove lay Xiaohuang Residence, a place already quiet by day and even more silent at night.

Apart from the wind, only the footsteps of master and servant echoed in the stillness.

Then, suddenly, another set of uneven footsteps approached—sometimes light, sometimes heavy, shattering the silence. A familiar scent, carried on the night wind, reached Chen Yanqing before its owner did.

It coiled around his senses, seeping into his lungs.

A soft figure crashed into his arms, slender arms winding around his waist like clinging vines, clutching him tightly.