Yes—he was no gentleman.
Not even a hypocrite pretending to be one.
He was a small, petty man. Only small men seize opportunity when someone is vulnerable. Only small men ignored rules, limits, and morality.
He had wanted her for so long—restrained himself for so long—that the moment he believed he had already let go, she appeared again… in that same irresistible form.
At that instant, it was as though someone whispered in his ear:
You never forgot her.
The timing was perfect: the moment, the place, the circumstances.
He was a businessman. He understood better than anyone how rare opportunities were—miss it, and you might never get another chance in your life.
So he acted.
No hesitation, no scruples.
Whatever the future held, he would take her first.
When she lay naked in his bathtub, another voice echoed—his own—just like that night months ago in the rain when he blurted out the truth.
He wanted her.
Not affection.
Not admiration.
It was nothing but a man's raw, primal hunger for a woman—purely physical, nothing more.
Human wickedness, when repressed, was just a dark thought.
But once acted upon, it spread like wildfire.
Law, morality, conscience—those were chalk lines drawn on the pavement, restraining only those who cared about rules.
They could never stop a predator.
Lin Wan became an addiction he couldn't shake.
Like water, desire can't be dammed—only diverted.
If it grew too strong, it was better to indulge it, let it run its course, until eventually the thrill burned out.
That was his logic.
When he discovered she had tried to kill him, his first reaction was rage.
But soon after came relief—because now he had an excuse to keep her by his side.
She was dangerous.
He knew that.
But suddenly the wildness of their game fascinated him.
Because he knew—
He would never lose.
Chen Jin paced the living room in agitation. Then he sat. Then stood again. His restlessness only intensified. Finally, he checked his phone: three in the morning.
He couldn't help himself.
He dialed her number.
She picked up quickly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm not coming back tonight… I'm staying with Uncle and Aunt… I'll come home tomorrow."
He gripped the phone but said nothing.
He didn't know what was appropriate.
For all his cruelty, for all his ruthlessness… he was still human. Some remnants of decency still clung to him.
But years of authority had shaped his tone—even his breathing carried an oppressive weight, making Lin Wan speak carefully, tiptoeing like a frightened bird.
In the end, he only said, "Take care of yourself."
When he hung up, a strange melancholy washed over him.
By all logic, he should've been relieved.
The prey had run out of the cage but promised to return. He should've been confident, smug even.
But he still couldn't sleep.
The habit was terrifying.
Two people sleeping together long enough, and a single bed suddenly felt enormous when one was gone—too wide, too empty, too cold.
He tossed and turned until dawn before exhaustion finally claimed him.
Lin Wan did return.
But she grew quieter.
Dimmer.
Her eyes lost their spark.
Her whole being seemed wilted, like a flower drained of water.
Chen Jin wasn't superstitious, but he couldn't help thinking—
Had that dead man taken part of her soul away?
It was pointless to compete with the deceased.
Maybe once she pushed through the grief, she'd return to normal again.
She had been fine before… hadn't she?
She had given him joy once.
Because of that, he could tolerate her for a while.
But Chen Jin was no saint.
Half a month of this, and he snapped.
Lin Wan had become unbearable—
A vampire by day,
A hanging ghost by night,
a corpse in his arms,
And a corpse beneath him.
It was midsummer—bright sun, singing birds—yet she carried a chill around her that turned his hundred-square-meter apartment into a tomb.
He felt like he slept in a coffin every night.
He was furious.
He missed her soft body,
Her trembling voice,
Her tear-streaked face pleading, It hurts… be gentle…
So he poured all that resentment into his actions.
That night, he tried a suspended waist-hold position—something supposedly uncomfortable for women. He figured if she complained, he'd stop.
He wasn't enjoying himself anyway.
Lin Wan finally reacted.
But instead of begging, she turned her head—
—and vomited.
Chen Jin nearly lost it.
He barely managed not to explode.
Even at her worst before, she had never done this.
He stared at the mess, stomach churning. He wanted to take a deep breath to steady himself—but in this situation, he didn't dare inhale.
Normally, he would've kicked her straight off the bed.
But now, all he wanted was to get away—far away.
He lowered her half-suspended body onto the mattress and walked out without a word.
Wrapped in a robe, Chen Jin lit a cigarette in the study. The computer glowed with charts and numbers, but none of them registered. His mind was elsewhere.
He remembered hearing that drunk people could choke to death while vomiting. Lin Wan wasn't drunk—but the way she'd looked, limp and senseless, was no different.
He crashed out the cigarette and hurried back to the bedroom.
She was still in the same painful position—half on the bed, legs hanging off the side.
Even he felt sore just looking at her.
He picked her up and carried her to the bathroom, rubbing her back as she reached into the toilet, her body convulsing as if she meant to empty out her very organs.
He thought of something she had once said—
Is this fun?
Hurting each other.
Torturing each other…"
Back then, he had brushed it aside.
Because she was the one in pain.
She was the one suffering.
But now—
Now he finally understood a fraction of what "being tortured" felt like.
He sighed, dampened a towel, wiped her face clean, helped her rinse her mouth.
Then he carried her to the couch.
Only then did it strike him—
Having just one bedroom really wasn't convenient.
Her face was ghastly pale.
She curled into a ball in his embrace, fragile like a tiny shrimp, trembling and weak.
Chen Jin kissed her sweaty forehead and patted her hunched back gently.
Despite the heat, despite the uncooled air, his own back was soaked through.
But Lin Wan's body was still as cold as ever.
He tucked her hands inside his robe, against his chest—
Trying to warm her
With whatever heat he had left.