(7 Fresh Coins) Chapter 11 (Part 1) Your Temperature
“Ah, it’s 11 o’clock. I think you must be hungry. Let’s eat.” Antonio suddenly turned his head and raised his chin. The waiter reacted quickly and began to serve the dishes.
Si Qiang watched coldly, unable to help but think sarcastically, "Is this how this young master is supposed to be treated like a commoner?"
Although he was puzzled about what agreement Yao Jinghan and the other party had reached, he understood that since the other person had deliberately changed the subject, they didn't intend to explain. He wisely kept quiet, picked up his knife and fork, and began to eat in silence. Going back now would only make the atmosphere more awkward, so he decided to eat there. Before leaving, he instructed the butler to send food to Xu Qi. Given Xu Qi's alertness, he would definitely wake up the moment someone entered, so he wasn't worried about him going hungry.
After finishing the tedious meal, Si Qiang said indifferently, "Thank you for the treat." Then, without waiting for the other person's reaction, he turned and left.
Antonio stared blankly at his elegant back as he turned away, a shadow gradually falling over his eyes. He had been wounded by the beautiful rose time and time again, yet he had foolishly drawn to it again and again. He knew that if this continued, he would have no chance at all.
Actually, he was secretly pleased that Si Qiang and Iris's wedding had taken an unexpected turn. After reluctantly marrying Yao Jinghan, although he was impatient with dealing with that woman, he hadn't taken her too seriously—in fact, he'd won her over in just a month. However, Iris was what he was most worried about, because even if he was outrageous in his words, he couldn't openly steal his sister's boyfriend. Now, whether Iris left on her own or through Si Qiang's methods, he finally didn't have to worry about that problem anymore.
He curled his thin lips into a cold smile. Since the beautiful rose has thorns, then let's remove those thorns.
To escape the awkward atmosphere, Si Qiang wandered aimlessly outside all afternoon until it was dark before returning home. When he went back to the room he had left that morning, he found it completely empty. A taut string snapped in his mind. He ran back to his bedroom, and sure enough, all of the person's clothes were gone, and the sheets and blankets were roughly crumpled and thrown into the trash can. He stood blankly by the bed, his face drained of color. That person…left…?
Actually... this was expected, but he was still overwhelmed by disappointment and despair.
His quick agreement to see Antonio was perhaps partly an act of escapism. He didn't want to watch the man he loved leave him, as if nothing had ever happened between them.
This parting may be the last time we meet. Or rather, if he doesn't resort to those methods again, it's almost impossible for us to see each other again.
He climbed slowly onto the bed, as if in a daze, and gently stroked the sheetless surface with his hand. That person... had once been here, embracing and kissing him, reaching the peak of passion time and time again. To him, it was the outpouring of love and desire that had haunted his dreams for so many years, but to that person, it was nothing but disgusting trash.
What was thrown away were bed sheets and blankets, but he knew that what that person truly wanted to discard was their unbearable past. They had been master and servant, foster father and son, and now, besides that trash, nothing was left. All of this was because he had been too greedy.
Even so, he could not abandon the resolve he had made when he first joined the Yao family. To do so would be to abandon himself. Everything he did was for the same purpose; if he retreated because of the stab wound, he would be nothing.
He closed his eyes, buried his face in the thin velvet blanket that had been stripped of its sheet, greedily inhaling the lingering scent of passion, letting himself sink into the temperature that almost burned his heart.
There is no way to forget that person's warmth.
Gradually, the images from last night began to resurface in his mind. A sexy body and handsome face, soaked in desire; suppressed, low moans; the ambiguous and erotic atmosphere in the air—all these easily aroused his lust like a spell. Last night, he had violated the man again and again like a wild beast, unable to find satisfaction no matter what.
If only he could devour this man. Then… everything about him would belong to him. He bit the corner of the blanket, his pale face flushing red, his mind completely consumed by this bizarre thought. An indescribable shiver shot up his spine to his head, and he couldn't help but groan softly.
My lower body became uncontrollably erect, and soon it was painfully constricted by my pants, screaming for liberation.
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