Chapter 63 Embrace on the Edge of Darkness
As they left the torture chamber, the night dew on the stone steps dampened their heels. Ruan Xingchen, led by Mo Xiaohan, felt a bit unsteady. The chill of the torture chamber seemed to still linger on her skirt, yet the palm of his hand, gripping her, felt incredibly hot.
She looked down at their clasped hands. His knuckles were distinct, and there were thin calluses on his palms from years of gripping guns. These were gradually smoothing out the red marks on her fingertips from pinching her too hard.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked suddenly.
Ruan Xingchen raised her eyes and met his bottomless ones. The hideous instruments of torture and the heart-wrenching screams in the torture chamber were still flashing before her eyes, but now, looking at him, she suddenly understood -
To enter his world is to find the courage to stand shoulder to shoulder with him in the warmth he gives you after having touched his cold edges.
She didn't answer, but just squeezed his hand tighter.
After returning to the manor, Mo Xiaohan had just unbuttoned his cuffs when Ruan Xingchen came up to him from behind. Her cheek rubbed against the lingering cold and hard scent on his shirt, mixed with the dampness of the night dew, and was warmed by her body temperature.
His back stiffened almost imperceptibly, and he turned around and carried her sideways into the bathroom.
The bathtub had already been filled with hot water, and the petals of freshly cut white roses from the backyard floated on the water. The steam was like a layer of gauze, curling over the carved dome.
When the warm water reached her waist, her tense nerves relaxed slightly, but when her fingertips touched the softness of the petals, her mind still flashed back to the cold iron chains in the torture chamber. Until his hand covered hers, his calloused fingertips stroking her white knuckles.
"Still thinking?" He stepped into the tub, the water sloshing gently as he held her in his arms. The hot water flooded his chest, soaking his shirt, outlining his firm skin. The cool aroma of absinthe mixed with the steam spread, forming the most reassuring barrier.
Ruan Xingchen shook her head, turned around, and curled up in his arms face to face, resting her chin on his shoulder.
Her kiss was moist with water vapor, brushing against his Adam's apple. "No," her voice was muffled in the water. "I was thinking...your shirt is wet."
He chuckled, reached out and tore off his soaked shirt, throwing it onto the carpet outside the bathtub.
"Focus." He pinched her chin and kissed her quickly and deeply, with possessiveness, but when he touched her slightly trembling lips, he suddenly slowed down his strength.
The water in the bathtub swayed gently with his movements, and the petals clung to her collarbone, being sucked away one by one by his kiss. Ruan Xingchen's fingertips sank into the muscles of his back, where the intertwined old scars were the marks of his ascension to the throne.
"Mo Xiaohan," her voice trembled, but was unusually clear, "I didn't hide."
He looked up at her, his features blurred by the mist, but the dark color beneath his eyes was remarkably clear. In the torture chamber, she had bitten her lower lip tightly, refusing to look away, and now her gaze was reflected in the swaying waves.
"I know." He kissed away the moisture from the corners of her eyes, and traced her trembling eyelashes with his fingertips. "My star, it's great."
The hot water gradually cooled, but he held her tighter, pressing her back against his scorching chest. The water splashed against the edge of the tub, making a small sound that drowned out her soft moans.
Mo Xiaohan lowered his head, watching her red earlobes sink into the water. He suddenly bit her earlobe, his voice hoarse as if soaked in alcohol: "Meeting the day after tomorrow."
Ruan Xingchen paused, her fingertips curling lightly on his arm. "Hmm?"
"Join me." He kissed her shoulder, leaving a wet mark. "As Mrs. Mo."
Her heart skipped a beat and she turned to look at him, moisture forming tiny droplets on her eyelashes.
"Would it be appropriate for me to participate?"
Mo Xiaohan chuckled, reached out to push the wet hair away from her cheek, and brushed her lips with his fingertips.
"Of course," his tone was full of absolute control, yet shrouded in tenderness, "Your place should be next to me."
The petals in the bathtub had drifted away without her noticing. Ruan Xingchen huddled in his arms, like a cub finding its nest. "Okay," she whispered.
When Mo Xiaohan carried her out of the bathtub, her body, wrapped in the towel, was still trembling slightly. He used the towel to wipe her hair, his movements as gentle as if he were treating fragile porcelain. The steam filled the air between them, blurring the night outside the window.
"Go to sleep." He carried her to the bed and kissed the top of her head. "When you wake up, you should learn to really stand by my side."
Ruan Xingchen held on to his sleeves and refused to let go until he lay down in the bed and held her in his arms, then she finally let go.
Outside the window, the night in Bangkok is so dark that it cannot be dissolved. The waves of the Chao Phraya River are surging in the dark, and the warmth of the embrace is the only coordinate in this boundless darkness.
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