Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Luo Qianyu already felt hot, and with his damp collar clinging to his skin, it was even more uncomfortable. Since it was all this person’s fault, he wanted to take it off.

But just as his hand pulled open the collar, before his shoulder could be exposed, his wrist was suddenly grasped by a hand.

He heard Wen Yu’s voice, impossible to discern any emotion: “What are you doing?”

This male protagonist didn’t even address him as Young Marquis or Young Master anymore.

Luo Qianyu tried to break free but couldn’t. In terms of strength, he was no match for him. He hadn’t expected to be outmatched physically either. The Young Marquis, seething with quiet anger and still somewhat conscious, somehow suddenly recalled Su He’s storybook—"The beauty emerges from the bath, the Young Marquis’s heart sways, attempting to force himself upon her, failing to steal a kiss, and instead getting his face slashed."

Tonight, he hadn’t intended to drink, but encountering Lin Jingyan led to being toasted. And while he had no interest in beauties, here he was now, acting as if he were about to undress.

And the male protagonist seemed to genuinely misunderstand something, growing wary of him.

Was all of this… lining up with the original book’s plot?

A chill ran down Luo Qianyu's spine. The more he thought about it, the more horrifying it seemed. How was this any different from the previous plot kills?

No, he couldn’t stay here any longer.

Just as he was about to beat a hasty retreat, Luo Qianyu paused, unable to help but ponder. It wasn't as if he hadn't suffered similar losses before—no, he had tasted more than enough bitterness. If he went along with the plot, the male protagonist would hate and despise him. But if he deliberately avoided it, not only would the original plot be unavoidable, the male protagonist would still hate and despise him, and most of the events that happened to Wen Yu would likely rebound on him.

Was this fair?

Damn author, come out and take a beating!

He had just finished reading Su He’s latest chapter not long ago, the lines naturally engraved in his mind, impossible to forget. Since the outcome was the same either way, and he couldn’t escape it, he might as well get it over with quickly. The wine from Lin Jingyan had a strong kick; he was so sleepy he wanted to sleep.

Thinking this, the Young Marquis stopped struggling. Instead, he used his free hand to climb onto Wen Yu’s, starting from the snow-white arm, feeling the prominent bone at the man’s wrist, gently stroking it.

He had no strength to begin with, his touch soft and feeble. Fortunately, when he spoke, his voice was clear, which helped sell the act he was putting on. “What am I doing? Doesn’t Guard Wen know?”

“Guard Wen, relying on the bit of favor I show you, you have quite the nerve.”

“Who allowed you to bathe in my study lodgings? Taking advantage of Young Master going out to drink, secretly using my bathtub? Did you use my scented soap too? The water carries your scent now, how am I supposed to use it?” He added, “Wen Yu, since you’re so fond of cleanliness, why not bathe in front of me?”

No sooner had he spoken than Wen Yu’s expression indeed changed.

The Young Marquis pretended not to notice and continued, “Wen Yu, have you ever heard, ‘White jade interlinked, its color equals snow. Placed on the young master’s wrist, indistinguishable which is whiter’? I’ve heard of immortals disguising themselves as mortals. They paint their clothes with ink, use snow as powder, experts at captivating hearts and luring mortal men into their snares.”

The Young Marquis endured the shame, but his hand stubbornly refused to let go. He finally freed the hand marked red from the grip and instead touched Wen Yu’s neck. His breath, laced with wine, brushed against the man’s ear. “If Guard Wen isn’t a celestial being from the heavens, how did he come by such snow-white skin? Even if the moon’s essence from the Jasper Terrace were reborn, one could hardly distinguish between the beauty's jade-white skin and the fairness of his wrist.”

After speaking, Wen Yu’s expression indeed turned cold, as if returning to their first meeting.

He pressed his lips together, only speaking after a long moment. “Young Marquis, choose your words carefully.”

At this time, the Young Marquis was three years younger than Wen Yu, not as tall. Standing on tiptoe would undermine his authority, and he feared Wen Yu might leave. For now, he had no choice but to continue following the plot.

Steeling himself, he suddenly leaped up, wrapping his arms around the beauty’s neck—originally thinking he could make the other fall beneath him. Unexpectedly, Wen Yu wasn’t knocked over, and one of his own shoes fell off, revealing a snow-white silk stocking.

The current posture seemed more like he had climbed onto the other’s waist.

Wen Yu had just bathed; not only did his body carry a clear, cold chill, but his tone was the same—restrained and deferential, as befitting a Personal Guard. “Luo Qianyu, get down.”

For him to call him by his name directly made Luo Qianyu’s heart tighten. He knew Little Beauty was truly angry, but this was far from enough. What he wanted was for Wen Yu to take action.

So the next moment, he bit Wen Yu’s ear.

The other’s eyelashes indeed trembled, his entire body stiffening. He raised a hand, this time truly intending to throw him off. But being thrown off was different from being slashed; the Young Marquis naturally refused.

Luo Qianyu had never bitten anyone’s ear before, so naturally, he had no technique. What to do after biting? The book didn’t go into such detail. He lowered his eyes, thought for a moment, somewhat at a loss, and could only gently suck the spot with the bite mark, then give it a small lick.

Wen Yu’s breath seemed to hitch.

Luo Qianyu was struggling through this plotline, his legs lacking strength. Just as he was about to slip down, a hand suddenly arrived, steadily supporting his falling momentum.

He glanced sideways and was taken aback.

He discovered Wen Yu’s ear had turned red.

Not just where he had bitten, but also where he had held it. The redness spread to the earlobe, even redder than a pomegranate under the late autumn sun. The breath against his neck was clingy and damp, somewhat ticklish.