Chapter 40 Be My Slave Alone

Chapter 40: Be My Exclusive Servant

"Yin Rou blurted out, her words unchecked. Chen Yanqing's hand paused for a fleeting moment, his gaze shifting to her face.

Yet, Yin Rou felt a defiant liberation. Since his lies had been exposed, there was no longer any need for pretense between them. Her eyes, usually soft and yielding, now gleamed with a piercing coldness, though still glistening with tears—even her hatred was heartbreaking to behold.

Chen Yanqing watched her, his voice softening as he asked, "Say that again."

Yin Rou sneered, "Isn't it true? You allowed Miss Zhao to strike my name from the registry, so why do you blame me for leaving? You broke your word first."

Her words were sharp, her breathing ragged, her body trembling. Hot tears welled in her eyes as she fixed Chen Yanqing with a gaze full of bitter resentment.

"Song Yinrou."

"Stop your pretense."

Chen Yanqing’s brow furrowed deeply. Yin Rou, like a hedgehog with every quill raised, retorted, "You dragged me back—do you intend to secretly re-register my name behind Miss Zhao's back?"

Chen Yanqing’s brief silence made Yin Rou feel utterly disgusted. Had he simply refused, she might have lamented their ill-fated timing. But now, all she felt was regret; every entanglement with him was unbearable.

"Third Young Master, our arrangement is over. The Old Madam has already returned my indenture. You cannot keep me trapped here. Let me and Brother Xuanlin go!" Yin Rou’s voice was sharp, her struggles growing more desperate.

Chen Yanqing watched her frantic resistance, dissecting every word she uttered. The last flicker of reconciliation in his eyes vanished completely. "So, after all that, letting you and Pei Xuanlin leave together is your true desire."

"What else?" In the past, Yin Rou would never have dared to provoke his anger. But now, she cared for nothing. "If Third Young Master wishes to spare Miss Zhao sorrow and protect his own reputation, then let me go. I won't tarnish your name, but you must also stay out of my affairs with others."

Chen Yanqing smiled at her, but in the next instant, his eyes turned cold. "We'll see about that!"

His hand, which had hovered near her navel, slid downward as he spoke in a low, menacing whisper. Yin Rou realized with horror that all her words had been futile—he had no intention of stopping. She stared at him in disbelief.

"Let me tell you again," Chen Yanqing said with cruel precision, his gaze fixed on his hands, "I didn't force your 'Brother Xuanlin' to leave. It was his own decision. Understand?"

Her skirt was seized in his grip, tightening inch by inch. The sharp sound of tearing fabric pierced Yin Rou’s ears.

She had no time to question the truth of his words. A numbing sensation rose in her throat, spreading rapidly through her entire body.

In her panic, Yin Rou glanced down, and a wave of dizziness surged through her mind, nearly buckling her knees.

She shook her head frantically—no, she couldn’t bear to be entangled with him again!

"Third Young Master, you will soon marry Miss Zhao. You should treat her well..." Half of her skirt was already torn open, the cold air biting at her exposed legs, sending shivers from her skin to the deepest parts of her body, leaving no inch untouched.

Yin Rou was frantic, her voice trembling incoherently. "Chen Yanqing..."

Chen Yanqing glanced at her sideways, watching her lips part and close, his eyes filled with impatience. Without warning, he raised his voice and called out, "Bring Zhao Hanyue here."

What did he mean by summoning Miss Zhao? Did he intend to humiliate her further in front of her? No matter how much Yin Rou hated him, she knew she had no right to resent Miss Zhao.

Seeing Shu Yan’s figure disappear beyond the door, Yin Rou realized he wasn’t joking. She didn’t dare provoke him further.

"Third Young Master, please don’t—"

She wanted to beg, but her voice trailed off into a breathless gasp. Yin Rou suddenly arched her neck back, a sharp pain making her wince. Her trembling hands pushed weakly against Chen Yanqing’s wrist.

Her delicate fingers clung to his strong forearm like tender willow branches wrapped around a thick tree trunk—utterly powerless to resist. Instead, she was entirely at his mercy.

"That's better," Chen Yanqing murmured meaningfully, leaning close to her ear. His voice was low, satisfied. "Still dry."

Tears of fury welled in Yin Rou's eyes, her teeth clenched as if she longed to sink them into Chen Yanqing's neck. "You bastard!"

Her curse instead eased the ferocity in Chen Yanqing's expression. As his long fingers moved, the smoldering fury in his chest cooled like embers under a drizzle.

Yin Rou broke, a soft sob escaping her. Chen Yanqing glanced at her as if admiring the sight, a faint, mocking sigh slipping past his throat.

Playful and contemptuous.

Yin Rou couldn’t bear the sounds she was making, burning with humiliation and rage, biting her lips hard as her tear-filled eyes glared weakly at Chen Yanqing.

Her defiance only stoked Chen Yanqing's anger. He pressed down on her wrist and demanded, "What good does resisting do?"

Fresh tears pooled in Yin Rou's eyes, her lips marked deeply by her own teeth.

Seeing her willing to bite her lips raw, a smirk flickered in Chen Yanqing's gaze, momentarily captivating before giving way to unmistakable danger.

Without bothering to pull back, he hauled Yin Rou up and carried her behind the desk. He placed her trembling body onto the surface, hooked one of her legs over the edge, and leaned back into an armchair, his stare predatory.

Yin Rou didn’t need to look to imagine the scene. Struggling to sit up, she collapsed back helplessly with just a slight push from Chen Yanqing.

She couldn’t see his face, only her own raised knee trembling uncontrollably. From his angle, he must have had a perfect, degrading view.

She hated him, but hated herself even more. She shouldn’t have provoked him. She was wrong. Looking back now, how could she have ever mistaken Chen Yanqing for the man from her visions?

Yin Rou strained to turn her gaze toward the wall where his shadow loomed, her tear-blurred eyes straining to see—no trace of that man remained.

The man in her visions had shattered for her, clutching her lifeless body in despair. But this man was ice and control, unmovable, leaving her utterly ruined in his hands.

He seemed to lean closer, his broad shoulders tilting forward, the jade crown in his hair nearly brushing her leg, his hot breath branding her skin.

Chen Yanqing’s lowered gaze was like thick ink, shimmering with an incongruous light as he chuckled softly, mocking her false resistance.

Shame and hopelessness pounded into her relentlessly. Her eyes grew hollow, brimming with endless self-loathing. Chen Yanqing sensed her body no longer tensed—not in submission, but in surrender, as if she had given up entirely.

So unwilling? Darkness flooded Chen Yanqing’s expression as he abruptly stood. Whether she willed it or not, she belonged to him.

Yin Rou watched in horror as he undid his belt with one hand, the tendons in his elegant hands standing out starkly.

"Young Master, Miss Zhao is here." Shu Yan’s voice shattered the suffocating standoff.

Yin Rou seized the reprieve, her voice trembling. "Miss Zhao is here—Third Young Master, you can't possibly let her witness this!"

Chen Yanqing had shed every pretense of decorum. Hadn’t she accused him of putting on an act? Yet it was she who had torn his composure apart.

"And if she does?"

"I’ll have her come in now."

Yin Rou was truly terrified, frantically shaking her head, her panicked gaze searching for somewhere to hide.

Chen Yanqing sneered. "Trying to hide again?"

How could she not? The door felt moments from opening, yet Chen Yanqing remained utterly unperturbed. She felt herself on the verge of madness, shoving him away with all her strength. With no time to find cover, she folded in on herself and scrambled under the desk.

Curled into a corner, hugging her knees, she looked no different from when she had hidden from the drug’s effects—except back then, she had thrown herself at him. Now, she was fleeing.

A razor-edged smile twisted Chen Yanqing's lips, the veins at his temples throbbing.

"Show her in."

As the faint voice above her head faded, Yin Rou shrank further into the corner. Chen Yanqing flicked his robe with a finger and sat down, his powerful legs pressing tightly against her side.

No matter how Yin Rou tried to avoid him, her back eventually hit the desk. She secretly searched for a place to hide, but Chen Yanqing reached under the table, grasped her delicate shoulder, and dragged her back to his side.

Yin Rou twisted and struggled to escape, only to be pressed even tighter against him. Half of her body was pinned across his thighs, and every movement only brought them closer.

Rage had nearly stripped Yin Rou of reason. She tilted her face up and glared at him with the fiercest, most vitriolic glare she could muster—yet all she could see was the faint curve of his jaw.

At that moment, the sound of the door opening broke the tension. "Shu Yan said you were looking for me, cousin."

Yin Rou heard Zhao Hanyue's gentle and composed voice, while she herself crouched beneath the table in the most wretched, disgraceful state—utterly unfit to be seen.

A sharp bitterness seeped from her defenseless heart, her nose stinging with unshed tears. Her gaze hollow, she lowered her head, only for Chen Yanqing's large hand to cup her face. Yin Rou's lashes trembled violently as she tried to turn away, but he pinched her chin and slipped a finger past her parted lips.

Yin Rou's eyes widened in shock and panic. She desperately tried to push his finger out with her tongue.

Chen Yanqing's chest swelled with suppressed anger. Did she really think she could escape him? He added another finger, decisively trapping her tongue between them.

He glanced down at her—Yin Rou, forced to keep her mouth open, unable to move, her disheveled and pitiful appearance softening some of the fury in his eyes. Lifting his gaze to Zhao Hanyue, he spoke indifferently, "There is something I need to ask you."

His calm, unruffled tone, paired with his shamelessly teasing actions, sent a bone-deep chill through Yin Rou. She had already lost faith in him, but she never imagined he would stoop to such debauched and shameless behavior—especially in front of Miss Zhao. How could he?

Yin Rou felt as though she had been blind all along. She opened her mouth, intending to bite down on the fingers violating her, but Chen Yanqing seemed to anticipate it. He spread his fingers, gripping her cheeks to force her mouth wider, delving deeper to toy with her tongue.

Tears welled in Yin Rou's eyes. Her tongue was being played with so roughly she could barely breathe, and these same hands had touched her elsewhere just moments ago. Her head spun violently, and the sheer humiliation made her weep helplessly.

Yet Chen Yanqing seemed to derive satisfaction from tormenting her. Releasing his grip on her cheeks, he focused solely on teasing her tongue. The moment Yin Rou relaxed slightly, she bit down with all her might.

Chen Yanqing's brow arched slightly. Zhao Hanyue spoke again, "What did you wish to ask me, cousin?"

Finally sparing her some attention, Chen Yanqing's cold, assessing gaze made Zhao Hanyue uneasy.

*Cousin went to see the Fourth Young Master—he shouldn’t have returned so soon. Unless… he already knows about Song Yinrou leaving.*

A cold sweat broke out across Zhao Hanyue's palms. She clenched her hands lightly, but this had nothing to do with her. It was the Old Madam who sent Song Yinrou away.

Now that Song Yinrou was gone, surely her cousin couldn’t know what she had done.

Zhao Hanyue reassured herself—only for Chen Yanqing to ask, "What did you say to Song Yinrou?"

Her heart seized with panic. "What do you mean, cousin?"

"Have you misunderstood something?" Zhao Hanyue forced herself to stay calm, forcing a thin smile. "There was indeed some trouble in the residence today. I don’t know what happened, but the Old Madam suddenly—"

"My patience is thin," Chen Yanqing cut her off, his piercing gaze heavy with implicit command. "Did you tell Song Yinrou that I removed her name?"

The question struck Zhao Hanyue like a thunderclap. *How did he find out?*

If he knew before leaving, why had he acted so unaffected? If after, how was that even possible?

Her mind raced frantically—where had she slipped up?

Her expression revealed everything. Chen Yanqing watched her and pressed further, "The official documents in the yamen were untouched. How did you deceive her?"

The teeth biting fiercely into his knuckles loosened slightly. A derisive glint flickered in Chen Yanqing's cold eyes. He wasn’t the type to break promises to a young girl, nor would he let her misunderstand him for nothing. If he wanted to act, he would do so openly.

The iciness in his gaze made Zhao Hanyue's heart pound with dread. Her beautiful eyes swam with calculated sorrow. "Cousin, let me explain—"

"Was it that night?" Chen Yanqing's voice was merciless. "You brought me the invitation roster for Grandmother’s birthday banquet. You used that to trick Song Yinrou."

Zhao Hanyue's eyes widened imperceptibly. Her cousin was far too perceptive—his deductions were as precise as if he had witnessed it himself. She couldn’t muster a single word of denial.

Her fingers clenched until her nails bit into her palms, tears shimmering in her eyes. "I—I only did it for your sake, cousin!"

Zhao Hanyue pressed a hand to her chest, tears rolling down her cheeks as she shook her head in despair. "You removed her slave registry for her, but have you considered that it violates the law? The court only permits slaves who have served their full three-year sentence to regain commoner status. Song Yinrou hasn’t even come close. If this were exposed, it would be deception of the court!"

"Moreover, what would people say about you? Your reputation would be ruined because of her!"

Every word she spoke was dripping with false concern, pleading her concern for him.

Chen Yanqing only replied indifferently, "That has nothing to do with you."

"Cousin—" Zhao Hanyue's voice cracked, her face paling.

*What does he mean? The Old Madam has long promised to arrange a marriage between us. Does he truly not care for me at all?*

"You may leave." Chen Yanqing had learned all he needed. Now, he had other matters to attend to.

Leaning back, he glanced beneath the desk. The girl slumped over his knee looked as though her will had been broken. Chen Yanqing felt no sympathy for her belated realization—nor did it quell his anger. He pushed his fingers deeper, working her tongue until drool escaped. *This was far more direct.*

Zhao Hanyue gazed at Chen Yanqing with desperate appeal, but his indifference shattered her. She knew her actions had disgusted him. That he wasn’t pursuing the matter further was likely only out of respect for the Chen and Zhao families.

Taking a deep breath, she composed herself. *It’s fine. There’s still time. Song Yinrou is gone, isn’t she? I’ll find another way.*

"This was my mistake. I acted presumptuously." Zhao Hanyue lowered her eyes in apology. When Chen Yanqing remained silent, her heart turned leaden.

Gritting her teeth, she turned to leave.

"Wait."

Chen Yanqing's voice stopped her. Hope flared briefly in Zhao Hanyue's eyes as she turned back.

"Grandmother dotes on you. Since she wants you to stay in the residence, focus on keeping her company."

A chill ran through her. *He’s warning me to behave. The only reason he’s letting me stay is out of consideration for the Old Madam.*

"Hanyue understands." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper as she hurried out.

Once she was gone, silence descended once more upon Xuān Hè Hall. From the moment Yin Rou heard Zhao Hanyue's words, her thoughts had stilled. *All of this… was a misunderstanding?*

The Third Young Master hadn’t broken his promise. *She* was the one who had deceived *him*, fleeing while he was away.

Too many thoughts assaulted her mind, leaving her unable to think. Only when the pain of her tongue being pulled snapped her back did her distant eyes gradually cleared. Trembling, she lifted her eyes to meet Chen Yanqing's—her expression one of dumbfounded shock.

Chen Yanqing reclined indolently in his chair, his long fingers playing absently in her forced-open mouth. He watched the delicate tongue tangled around his fingers with feigned nonchalance, but Yin Rou knew the fury burning beneath the surface.

"Heard enough?" Chen Yanqing asked coolly.

Yin Rou's breath came in shallow gasps. After several attempts, she tried to answer—only to swallow around his fingers, unable to make a sound.

"What? Still don’t believe me?"

Chen Yanqing lifted his gaze. The frigid detachment in his eyes sent a chill through her heart. She shook her head with tremendous effort.

A thin smirk curled his lips as he withdrew his hand, freeing her tongue. He pulled open a nearby drawer, withdrew an object, and tossed it onto the desk. With a slight tilt of his chin, he commanded, "Come and see."

Yin Rou pressed her lips together, her mouth still wet from his touch. Her heart hammered violently, as if it already knew what awaited her. Suddenly, she was paralyzed with dread at the sight.

Chen Yanqing spared no moment. Gripping her pale wrist, he dragged her out from under the table, wrenched her about, and compelled her to confront the proof.

Yin Rou had no choice but to look. It was a dossier nearly identical to the one Zhao Hanyue held.

Still stunned, Chen Yanqing leaned over her from behind, one arm encircling her waist as if embracing her, while the other hand reached before her eyes, pinching the dossier’s cover and slowly turning its pages.

The name "Song Yinrou" was unassuming yet clearly printed there.

Yin Rou closed her eyes. Every earlier accusation and insult now crushed her heart like a boulder. Chen Yanqing coolly lowered his gaze, studying her with deliberate calm. "Song Yinrou, you deceived me."

Yin Rou bit her lip, her throat clenched, utterly speechless.

She hadn’t fulfilled the pardon’s conditions. Third Young Master had taken a risk, yet she had misunderstood him as breaking his word. And then there were Zhao Hanyue’s words—biting, yet undeniably true.

"Do you know how masters deal with runaway slaves?" His voice was icy, devoid of its usual warmth.

When Xuanlin had barged into Shifang Hall that time, he had already warned her—he could let it pass once, but there would be no next time.

Yin Rou’s tightly shut eyelids trembled uneasily. Runaway slaves could be flogged to death without consequence. But what clenched her heart wasn’t that—it was the glacial edge in his voice.

Yet, now that things had come to this, all regret was too late. Even without today, she would have had to leave eventually.

Apart from this misunderstanding, everything else was real. Even knowing Miss Zhao’s actions, Third Young Master had still let it go.

Ending these mistakes sooner was for the best.

Gripping her fraying resolve, Yin Rou forced her lips apart, pushing past the suffocating tightness in her throat. "I misunderstood Third Young Master..."

"Not quite a misunderstanding." Chen Yanqing’s gaze held dark intent.

Yin Rou didn’t understand. He averted his gaze, picking up the brush resting on the inkstone, slowly dipping it into the ink. The tip, saturated with dark ink, lifted—then descended toward her name.

In panic, Yin Rou seized his sleeve. Chen Yanqing didn’t even glance at her, his thin lips parting as he uttered coldly, "The instant you fled with Pei Xuanlin, I had already decided to strike your name out."

Yin Rou desperately seized his wrist, stopping it from moving further, babbling pleas, "I know I was wrong, I beg you—please, Third Young Master, don’t strike it out, don’t!"

Chen Yanqing stared into her tear-filled eyes, his voice frigid. "Don’t? So you can bolt with your lover again?"

Before, he had thought her obedient—little did he know all she ever thought of was escape. He’d ensure she’d never escape again.

"I won’t, I won’t!" Yin Rou shook her head, pleading bitterly.

"Won’t?" Chen Yanqing leaned closer, piercing her with his gaze. "Do you think I’d believe you? Song Yinrou, can you honestly say you wouldn’t leave?"

Yin Rou couldn’t answer. Chen Yanqing let out a slow, mocking laugh. "When you first threw yourself at me, did you never consider the consequences?"

If not for the coldness in his eyes, one might think he was speaking helplessly to a misbehaving child.

Yin Rou’s gaze drifted absently to his thumb ring. Everything had started because of this ring—because she had believed in that illusion. Chen Yanqing followed her line of sight.

The faint blush of red on the ring stirred a flicker of reluctance in his eyes.

"It was my fault for provoking Third Young Master. Let’s just... treat it all as Yin Rou’s offense." Oblivious, she clung to his hand, begging. His silence gave her a sliver of hope. "Even if I stayed, I’d only bring gossip upon Third Young Master. Please, for the sake of the time I served you, let me go. I’ll always be grateful."

As if he wanted her gratitude.

"Too late for apologies now." Chen Yanqing cut her off with a cold laugh. "Who said one service was enough?"

Yin Rou’s voice caught in her throat. The broken despair in her eyes was pathetic, but Chen Yanqing’s tenderness had long since been exhausted.

"You didn’t listen earlier. I said it’s not enough—you don’t get to stop." His voice was a whisper, intimate yet edged with frost.

"As for gossip, you think too much. You’re merely a slave."

Yin Rou was lashed by a bitter wind, coldness seeping into her bones. Chen Yanqing smirked at her, though the mockery in his eyes was directed at himself.

He’d lavished her with affection and indulgence, and she had rejected it. From now on, he needn’t bother with such unnecessary things.

His wrist bore down relentlessly. The brush touched the paper, and the ink bled like a wound, dissolving Yin Rou’s name—and extinguishing the light in her eyes.

Chen Yanqing decisively erased the last trace of reluctance in his heart. If she deemed him a villain, he might as well live up to it.

He bent, brushing his lips to the tear beneath her eye, his voice cruel yet tender.

"Henceforth, you’re my little servant—mine alone."