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Bonus chapter! Thank you to --- for the donation! ^^
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Ruan Qing's chin was forced upward, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. Fear deepened in his gaze, the moisture making his long lashes clump together.
He wanted to shake his head at the man's words, but the blade rested against his skin—any movement would cut him. So he froze, not daring to move a muscle, not even to speak.
The knife was lethally sharp, capable of slicing through anything effortlessly. Even the flat side pressed against him was enough to make his blood run cold.
Tears finally spilled over, trailing down his cheeks like broken pearls, leaving him looking fragile and pitiful.
His lips, bitten raw, were now swollen and red—as if kissed to ruin. Combined with the tears streaking his face, he exuded a shattered beauty that stirred dark, possessive urges.
The urge to... break him further.
He stood out starkly against the grim, oppressive aura of Miao Village. Where the villagers exuded unease, he was pure, untouched—too pure. It made people want to dirty him, to see him cry harder.
Mu Ye'an ignored his fear. His gaze lingered on the trembling figure before him, voice laced with disdain.
"Drop the act. I’m not like them—I don’t fall for cheap seduction from someone so... promiscuous."
"And if you’re trying to tempt me," he added, coldly amused, "you’re not even trying hard enough."
"What kind of seduction involves keeping your clothes on?"
The live chat, which had been flooding with outrage, paused for a second—then exploded.
[??? What the hell does that mean?! "What kind of seduction involves keeping your clothes on"??? Oh, so now it’s his fault you’re imagining things? Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you get to spout nonsense!]
[Since when was he seducing you?? He’s literally terrified! Open your damn eyes!]
[Who do you think you are?! As if my wife would ever want to seduce you! Confidence is one thing, but delusion? Get a grip!]
[I respected you, Mu Ye’an. Thought you were above this. Turns out you’re worse than the other simps—at least they wish he’d tease them first!]
Mu Ye’an, of course, didn’t see the barrage of insults. His knife slid downward, the tip catching on the first button of Ruan Qing’s shirt.
Then, with a flick—
Snip.
The button flew off.
The button, now freed from its thread, dropped to the floor and rolled a few times before finally coming to a stop.
Mu Ye’an’s control was precise—he severed the thread cleanly without causing even the slightest harm.
But Ruan Qing was still terrified. Tears streamed down his cheeks uncontrollably. His slender, trembling form was filled with vulnerability and helplessness.
Yet with the tip of a blade pressed just below his throat, he didn’t dare move an inch—not even to lower his head. He could only stand stiffly with his head tilted back, letting the man do as he pleased.
With the first button undone, his shirt loosened slightly, revealing the faint outline of a delicate collarbone. His pale, smooth skin peeked from beneath the fabric, just enough to stir the imagination.
Mu Ye’an paused for a moment, his eyes darkening to an unfathomable shade. Then the blade in his hand shifted downward slightly.
This time, however, he didn’t cut another button. Instead, he simply pressed the tip of the knife against the second button—right beside the heart.
Ruan Qing’s breath nearly stopped. Never before had he felt his heartbeat this vividly. It thudded so hard, he feared it might strike the blade.
But the heart couldn’t be controlled. The more terrified and anxious he became, the faster it beat—like after an intense sprint.
Extreme emotional agitation, after all, triggers just as much adrenaline as physical exertion.
Whether from fear—or something else.
Tears continued to spill from the corners of Ruan Qing’s eyes, soaking his long lashes and streaming down his delicate cheeks.
Drenched and glistening, he didn’t look pathetic—rather, he resembled a fragile blossom trembling in a storm, both vulnerable and breathtakingly beautiful.
This was the very picture of seductive despair.
But Mu Ye’an seemed unmoved. His face remained expressionless as he stared down at the boy, his voice laced with sarcasm:
“What now?”
“Do you still need me to teach you?”
His actions had made his meaning crystal clear—if Ruan Qing wanted to survive, he had to seduce him.
With tears in his eyes, Ruan Qing shook his head stiffly and helplessly—not clear if he meant “no need to teach” or “I don’t know how.”
But there was no room for choices anymore.
The man’s oppressive presence was overwhelming. Danger clung to every breath—like if he failed to meet expectations, the blade would plunge into his heart the next second.
The only thing he could do… was please the man.
Ruan Qing pressed his pale pink lips tightly together, then lowered his head with visible stiffness, carefully leaning his face against the hand that held the knife.
Mu Ye’an’s hand was warm—completely different from the cold, hard steel of the blade. Maybe it was because Ruan Qing was too cold, but the moment he touched it, he trembled slightly as if scalded, instinctively trying to pull back.
Instinctively trying to escape.
But with the small knife still pressed beside his heart, he didn’t dare move at all.
The damp, cold sensation of Ruan Qing’s skin brushed against his hand. Mu Ye’an looked down at the boy leaning against him, his gaze darkening. He didn’t move the blade.
With a knife pressed to his chest, it was nearly impossible to carry out any sort of seduction. Even the slightest movement was risky. All Ruan Qing could move were his hands and his head.
He gently cupped Mu Ye’an’s hand, then carefully avoided the blade as he subtly lifted the man's hand just a little.
There was no sign of anger from Mu Ye’an, nor any rejection.
By raising the hand ever so slightly, the tip of the blade moved slightly away from Ruan Qing’s heart—just a few centimeters, yet it felt like hope.
But the knife still hovered dangerously close, and his movements remained severely restricted.
His fingers were only a few centimeters from the blade, yet he made no attempt to grab it, nor to push the man's hand away.
Ruan Qing knew all too well—he didn’t have the strength. Trying to take the knife would only get him killed.
Instead, stiffly, he nuzzled his cheek against Mu Ye’an’s hand, then slowly lowered his head and gently pressed his lips to it.
Warm, damp, and soft—a sensation unlike anything before.
And one that made the heart skip a beat.
Mu Ye’an froze completely. This time it was visible—his entire body stiffened, and even those deep, emotionless eyes seemed to freeze.
His gaze lowered, staring coldly at the boy cradling his hand. He didn’t move at all, but the look in his eyes grew darker by the second.
The boy’s lips—bitten brutally earlier—were swollen and red, looking almost as if they’d been ruined by kisses.
Perhaps thinking that a kiss alone wasn’t enough, Ruan Qing gently opened his mouth and carefully extended his tongue.
It was only a soft lick to the back of Mu Ye’an’s hand, yet it felt unbelievably intimate and depraved. The pale pink tip of his tongue brushing the skin sent waves of heat through the body.
It was impossibly suggestive.
Enough to make one’s heart pound uncontrollably, blood surging wildly. Mu Ye’an felt himself react—visibly, helplessly.
Even knowing that the boy’s innocence was fake, knowing his behavior was indecent and corrupt, even knowing his purity was all an act—none of it mattered anymore.
He still couldn’t control himself.
It was enough to drive Mu Ye’an mad.
His gaze darkened as he watched the boy’s tongue lightly graze his knuckles—just the barest flicker of contact, barely even a lick. Yet his throat tightened, his free hand clenching so hard the veins stood stark against his skin.
Mu Ye’an’s lashes lowered, his voice rough with barely leashed tension.
"That’s it?"
Two words, dripping with disdain, as though mocking Ruan Qing’s pitiful attempt at seduction.
Even though this was already the boy’s most desperate effort.
Ruan Qing’s slender frame stiffened. His lips parted, his delicate face a portrait of fragility and unease.
"...You’re pressing too hard. I’m scared."
Almost as soon as he spoke, the blade at his throat eased slightly, its lethal pressure relenting.
But it wasn’t enough.
Ruan Qing’s lashes fluttered as he glanced down at the knife, then tentatively pushed it away with trembling fingers.
Mu Ye’an didn’t stop him.
With shaky effort, Ruan Qing braced himself against the ground and rose unsteadily to his feet. His legs, numb from sitting too long, trembled beneath him—even standing was a struggle.
Whether to steady himself or to further his seduction, his slender fingers curled around Mu Ye’an’s forearm. Then, carefully avoiding the blade, he inched closer.
Though he’d already betrayed his lover, this was his first time deliberately tempting someone. His body remained rigid, faint tremors betraying his fear.
Mu Ye’an’s gaze dropped to the pale fingers gripping his arm. He didn’t pull away—just watched, cold and unmoved, as if waiting to see what the boy would dare.
Ruan Qing closed the distance between them, near enough to stumble into his embrace. His head tilted back, eyes fixed on Mu Ye’an’s lips, as he slowly rose onto his toes—
As if to kiss him.
Mu Ye’an’s eyes had long since darkened beyond measure, something perilous simmering beneath their surface.
Yet Ruan Qing moved with agonizing slowness, each second stretching into torment.
And still, Mu Ye’an didn’t move. He stood there, indifferent, as though entirely unaffected.
As though this fragile, trembling temptation meant nothing at all.
Yet his complete lack of resistance, his willingness to let Ruan Qing close—it spoke volumes.
Ruan Qing was already shorter than Mu Ye’an, and with his legs numb from fear, standing on his toes was a struggle. Before he could even reach Mu Ye’an’s lips, his balance wavered, nearly sending him crashing to the ground again.
Luckily, his hands were still braced against Mu Ye’an’s arms, giving him just enough support to steady himself.
His beautiful eyes shimmered with helplessness as he stared up at Mu Ye’an’s impassive face—but the man showed no intention of bending down to meet him.
Biting his lower lip, Ruan Qing finally lifted his other hand to Mu Ye’an’s shoulder, using it as leverage to push himself up.
With the added support, it was easier. He rose onto his toes again, hesitating for a brief, tense moment before slowly leaning in.
Their breaths tangled, so close it was impossible to tell whose was whose. The world seemed to hold its breath.
Then—just as Ruan Qing was about to close that final distance—the unthinkable happened.
In one sharp, brutal motion, he jerked his knee up with all his strength, aiming straight for the most vulnerable part of any man.
No matter how strong, that spot was always a weakness.
