"Boohoo, Lili, I've turned into a wooden statue, save me..."
Chai Xiaomi's usually lively almond eyes were now hazy and ethereal, as if covered by a thin layer of mist.
Her cheeks were thoroughly flushed from the alcohol, the redness spreading from the corners of her eyes to the roots of her ears, with even her neck tinged a pale pink.
Her originally neat hair bun had somehow been messed up, scattering loosely over her shoulders. A few stray strands clung to her flushed cheeks, making her look incredibly docile.
Wu Li immediately realized her pressure points had been sealed.
"Lili, Lili... I caught Lili. I'm not a wooden statue anymore, hehe." The second her pressure points were released, her soft and obedient body immediately threw itself into his arms, carrying a heavy scent of alcohol mixed with a faint, fresh floral fragrance.
The scent wasn't pungent at all. Instead, it was like a jar of aged wine being suddenly opened; the intoxicating aroma instantly washed over him, making even him feel a little tipsy.
Just how much did she drink?
He furrowed his brows slightly, pulling her onto his lap, his voice dropping a few octaves: "Who allowed you to drink? How did you get this drunk?"
As soon as he spoke, he felt a restless little hand slipping into his collar. He didn't even need to guess to know she wanted to feel his muscles again.
"I'm not drunk," she denied while trying hard to tug at his collar. Her movements were soft and lacking strength. Pouting her red lips, her pretty face was flushed and charming, but a small cluster of anxious fire flickered in her eyes. It was as if she were fighting with his clothes; the more anxious she got, the less she could undo them.
"What kind of stupid clothes are these! Are they purposely going against me?" She angrily glared at the innocent garments and scolded them.
Wu Li's Adam's apple bobbed sharply.
He didn't say another word and obediently pulled open his own collar.
The moment his broad chest was exposed, Chai Xiaomi's eyes instantly lit up, like a child who had finally unwrapped a long-desired piece of candy.
Satisfied, she pressed her jade-like slender fingers against his well-defined muscles. First, she poked them gently, as if testing the texture, and then she slid her fingers down little by little along those sexy, taut lines.
Wherever her fingertips passed, it was as if clusters of small flames were ignited.
She poked and muttered at the same time, her voice as soft as melted mochi: "Lili... why is this muscle of yours so hard, like a rock... Oh, this one is different, it's bouncy..."
Tilting her head, a flash of seriousness suddenly appeared in her hazy eyes. "I think you have a six-pack! No, an eight-pack! I want to count them."
As if discovering a new continent, she actually lowered her head, tapping each muscle with her fingertips as she counted, muttering to herself: "One, two, three... Huh, where's four? Where did four go... Don't move, it runs away when you move..."
Good heavens.
This was truly... going to kill him.
This torture was worse than being slashed with a knife.
Wu Li's jaw clenched tightly, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down repeatedly. Wherever her fingertips poked, his muscles contracted sharply. The defined lines she was muttering about heaved violently with his increasingly heavy breathing, his blood surging and churning beneath his skin.
Seeing that little hand slide past his abdomen and head further down, he quickly caught it. Veins bulged on his wrist from extreme restraint as he somewhat agitatedly locked his fingers with hers. "Mimi... be good, stop messing around. We can't act recklessly; you have to marry me first."
Hearing this, her excited little face instantly fell.
She thought for a moment, as if trying hard to understand the deeper meaning of his words. Then, tilting her head to look at him with a look of sudden realization, she pouted and spoke aggrievedly, "Oh—I get it."
"Get what?"
"We already acted recklessly once before, but now you're pretending to be a gentleman again." She got more worked up as she spoke, her eye rims actually turning a bit red. "Are you disgusted by me? You think my figure isn't pretty, right?"
Before Wu Li had time to explain, he saw the little drunkard in his arms straighten her waist and thrust her chest out. Then she looked down at herself, complaining sadly and angrily: "I also think they're too big! They make me look fat in clothes!"
As luck would have it.
That thrust pressed right against his chest.
Even through her dress, the sensation was as clear as if there were no barrier at all.
Wu Li froze completely, his back molars clenched tight. He felt like he was being roasted over a fire—on his front was a soft puddle of spring water in his arms, and on his back was his reason, on the verge of snapping.
A layer of hot sweat instantly broke out on his temples and slid down his cheeks. Even though he hadn't had a drop to drink, he felt even more intoxicated than the drunkard in his arms.
"You stinky Lili, so it turns out you don't like eating big steamed buns, you like small soup dumplings!" She sobbed as she lifted her head, her eyelids and the tip of her nose growing redder, as if smeared with rouge. Those wet eyes still glared at him stubbornly, righteously aggrieved.
Wu Li took a deep breath. "Who said I don't like them?"
As long as it was a part of her, he loved every single inch.
"You just don't!" she insisted. "Haven't you heard of biological attraction? When you truly like someone, you can't stop yourself, wishing you could cuddle and be glued to them every single moment! What about you? You don't even cuddle!"
As soon as the words left her mouth, Wu Li scooped her up in his arms and, in a few strides, set her down on the table.
He pressed his hands down on either side of her, leaning over to cage her between his chest and arms. The look in his eyes seemed to be cast in shadows, deep and heavy. Whatever he had been restraining was coming loose, inch by inch.
"I told you earlier, I'm not a good man."
Their gazes collided directly.
"Mimi," his voice was hoarse, his tone like a blade scalded by hot wine—clearly capable of a fatal strike, but forcefully grinding away instead. "If you keep this up, I'm going to stop acting like a human."
Chai Xiaomi stared at him blankly. She slowly raised her arms and hooked them around his neck. Her cherry-pink lips pouted slightly, like a cherry waiting to be plucked, still glistening with the unique moisture of alcohol. "If you don't act like a human... then what will you act like?"
The emotions in the young man's heterochromatic eyes were so thick they couldn't be dissolved, like a tide that had been suppressed for too long and finally breached the dam.
The next instant, a heavy kiss fell upon her lips.
His voice was low and hoarse, accompanied by muffled words: "What do you think."
Before Chai Xiaomi could even react, all her breath was stolen away.
He wrapped one arm around her waist and, with a slight pull, pressed her soft, slender waist tightly against his heaving abdomen. Through the thin fabric, she could clearly feel his tense muscles and violently boiling blood.
Like a beast that had been trapped for too long and was finally let out of its cage.
Chai Xiaomi trembled slightly.
It was as if countless numbing, tingling threads were slowly spreading out from her ears, sliding down her skin like an electric current, draining away the strength supporting her body little by little.
The surging, passionate kisses fell urgently like a rainstorm. The warm touch enveloped a fierce possessiveness, as if wanting to crush her, grind her to pieces, and melt her into his very bones and blood, never to be separated again.
Mixed with the rising intoxication, Chai Xiaomi only felt her body getting hotter and hotter, so hot it felt like she was going to burn up from the inside.
"It's so hot... Lili, it's too hot in here. I don't like it." She turned her head with a struggle, dodging his pursuing lips. Pushing gently against his chest, she whimpered in discomfort, "I want to sit over there. Isn't that your favorite place to sit... It's comfortable there, and we can catch the breeze."
Wu Li glanced over; she was looking at the window.
He lowered his gaze to the delicate face in his arms, deeply flushed from his kisses. A thin layer of sweat coated her forehead, and her eyelashes were damp, as if she had just been caught in a spring rain.
Without a word, he scooped her up. Passing by the chaise longue, he casually grabbed the soft cushion he usually used as a pillow.
He pushed open the window, placed the cushion on the windowsill, and then set the person in his arms down upon it.
The night breeze rushed in with a refreshing chill, ruffling the loose strands of hair at her temples.
Although the top floor of the Phantom Sound Pavilion offered excellent privacy and could not be easily peered into from such a height unless someone climbed a tree, his fingers still released a wisp of dark aura, slowly drawing a barrier from top to bottom.
If anyone were to look their way, they would see nothing but an impenetrable, pitch-black darkness.
