Chapter Twelve Rewards
Chapter Twelve
Wen Zhuo rubbed her lips haphazardly all over his body. She straddled him, kneeling on either side of his body. Cracks that spread outward from her waist and abdomen climbed up her arms and cheeks, the strange red lines making her face even more striking.
She bent down, grabbed his collar with both hands, her expression indifferent, and kissed him.
She didn't understand what a kiss was; she just bit his lips, licking the blood that seeped out. After a while, she felt it wasn't enough, so she rubbed his lips with her sharp teeth. Her bloodshot eyes shone with an inorganic light, devoid of any emotion.
She licked him like a puppy, sometimes accidentally licking into his mouth and touching his tongue. The sweet softness stimulated Wen Zhaoye's tongue until it went numb. He forcibly suppressed his rising desire and moved his body slightly.
Moisture welled up in Wen Zhaoye's eyes, and a few bright red blushes appeared on his pale skin. His fingers trembled almost imperceptibly.
The numbness in his body seemed to turn into another kind of itching, as if countless ants were gnawing at his skin, and his entire body felt an immense emptiness. He opened his eyes to look at Wen Zhuo in the brief moment when she looked up.
A thin, ambiguous silver thread stretched between their lips. Wen Zhaoye immediately lowered his head, no longer looking, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Wen Zhuo's body pressed tightly against his, their arms intertwined, a red crack severed at her fingertips, her grasp of his empty hand like a severed red thread.
In that instant, countless images flashed before his eyes. Frame by frame, Wen Zhuo's appearance from childhood to adulthood slid before him. Her features gradually matured, and her expression became increasingly indifferent, but she would always raise the corners of her mouth for the person who would never leave her side. The two figures were connected by a river of time, until one of them was lost in this river for seven years.
Wen Zhaoye grabbed the person he had lost and found again, his fingers encircling her wrist. The moment he held her, the empty blood in his body seemed to suddenly cool down, as if it had suddenly gained consciousness and couldn't wait to stick to her body.
At some point, Wen Zhaoye picked up the knife that had fallen to the ground again. The tip of the knife dug into his skin, causing a slight pain and drawing a long wound. The wound connected with the red crack on Wen Zhuo's arm, forcibly filling in the broken red line. The wound extended along his arm, passing through countless large and small scratches, and finally led to his heart.
His consciousness was somewhat hazy, and the knife fell to the ground beside him. He watched as Wen Zhuo licked the wound he had cut open.
He thought:
I am Wen Zhuo's older brother.
As the older brother, I can't, I can't, I can't.
Why can't I?
I can give her my family, my friendship, and my love.
I can be her brother, friend, and lover.
Wen Zhuo lay on his chest, near his heart. Wen Zhaoye's arms, which had initially resisted, wrapped around her body like vines. The scorching heat seeped into her every pore, and the darkness swallowed his expression, leaving only a pair of black eyes from which his expression was unreadable.
I am her brother, and I am willing to give everything for her, even myself.
He gently patted Wen Zhuo's head, as if rewarding her performance. Wen Zhuo raised her head, and her originally pale, almost transparent skin seemed to have regained some color. She expressionlessly licked the blood that had leaked from her lips and frowned.
Wen Zhaoye's fingers traced along her skin to her brow, gently smoothing it out, and he asked softly, "Are you feeling unwell? Is your blood circulation insufficient?"
It hurts so much. The wound on her back hasn't fully healed yet, and the burning pain seems to still linger on her back.
Wen Zhuo looked down at her food, the aroma of his blood filling her nostrils.
She had no desire to tear his body apart.
That's strange.
Wen Zhaoye didn't get a reply from her and didn't know what Wen Zhu was thinking. He pressed Wen Zhu's head down, and her nostrils flared. Her cheek rested against his lips, and Wen Zhaoye slightly opened his lips, a few drops of pure blood seeping from the tip of his tongue.
Wen Zhuo pressed against her almost immediately, her lips cool, her tongue licking fiercely, drawing blood into her mouth.
The pure blood entered her body, replenishing her lost yin energy, and the wound on her back slowly healed.
A flush appeared on her pale face. Having gotten what she wanted, she straightened up by using her waist and abdomen. Her mind was not yet fully clear, and her body was almost exhausted.
She wearily raised her eyes, wanting to leave, but her lips couldn't leave Wen Zhaoye's.
Wen Zhaoye met her gaze. His black hair clung to his cheeks, his left arm was wrapped around her waist, and his right hand remained behind her head, restraining all her movements.
He smiled, his fingers tracing the back of her neck before gently pausing at her lips, his voice low and husky: "Wen Zhuo, I've waited for you for so long, you should give me some reward."
Wen Zhuo looked at him blankly, and Wen Zhaoye nodded: "I'll get it myself."
He bit Wen Zhuo's lips repeatedly, seemingly indulging in the coolness that was so different from his own. After warming Wen Zhuo's lips with his tongue, Wen Zhuo was momentarily confused. She didn't understand why Wen Zhaoye was doing this, since there was no blood in the ghost's mouth.
She said haltingly, "I... well, there's no blood to eat in my mouth."
Strangely, Wen Zhaoye didn't answer her. Instead, he forcefully licked open her lips, his tongue awkwardly intruding and tasting his own rusty flavor. He instantly became excited, his unfamiliar tongue sweeping through her mouth as if searching for something, finally finding the tongue hidden deep inside.
He wrapped himself around her like a vine, coiling around Wen Zhuo's tongue. She shook her head to avoid Wen Zhaoye's burning tongue, but he forcefully pressed her head down, licking her insides relentlessly. He bit his own tongue, drawing Wen Zhuo's tongue out to enter him. He held her tongue in his mouth as if it were a treasure, sucking on it repeatedly.
Wen Zhuo was so overwhelmed by the kisses that her already groggy mind became hazy. Her lips were parted, and sticky fluids swirled between them. A few drops of fluids slipped down her lips, leaving long, suggestive lines.
As the dim moonlight peeked through the cracks, the sun outside the villa had long since set. The weeds that had been cleared from the yard quietly sprouted, and a cool breeze stirred in the summer night, rolling up the curtains.
Inside the room, two people were entangled. The pale-skinned ghost lowered her head to kiss the blood-red human, who closed her eyes, reverently raised her head, and offered her her life.
Heavy breathing filled the quiet room, and the sound of a heartbeat hidden within could only be heard by one person. Sometime later, the long kiss finally ended. Wen Zhuo opened her eyes, lay weakly on him, rubbed her cheek against his face like a small animal seeking warmth, and finally closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
Wen Zhaoye sat up, licked the remaining water off Wen Zhuo's lips, and gently patted her back to soothe his sleeping sister.
He picked up Wen Zhuo, put her back in her room, carefully covered her with a blanket, tucked her fidgeting hands under the blanket, and turned to walk towards her walk-in closet to choose the clothes she would wear to Wenzhou the next day.
Finally, he stood by Wen Zhuo's bedside and touched her hair, her cheeks, and her lips again.
He sat on the edge of the bed, took out his phone, and the screen illuminated Wen Zhaoye's face, showing a picture of the villa.
He stared at his phone with a grim expression, watching Wen Zhuo hold a butterfly trapped in her hand, unharmed even when scorched by the sun, and watching her collapse to the ground, closing her eyes in exhaustion.
He gripped his phone so tightly he felt like he was going to crush it. A surge of anger, pity, and pain welled up inside him, enveloping him in a dense mix of emotions, as if he were back on that day when he turned off the phone and tossed it onto the bedside table.
Looking down at Wen Zhuo, she kept touching his face with her fingers. Thank goodness, thank goodness, he came back in time.
He bent down and kissed her warm lips, feeling the unique warmth of hers, until she felt it in her sleep and impatiently pushed him away, at which point he chuckled.
A pair of blood-red eyes suddenly flashed before his eyes.
etc.
He suddenly felt that something was wrong.
He picked up his phone again, the screen lit up, and the surveillance footage was still playing. He dragged the progress bar, watching the footage carefully.
pause.
Wen Zhuo lay on the ground, his bloodshot eyes filled with exhaustion, but a smile curved at the corner of his mouth. Outside the screen, Wen Zhaoye's black eyes showed a hint of a smile. The two, one human and one ghost, stared at each other across the monitor.
How perceptive you are, my sister.
The moon set with a cool breeze. It was a fine day, but the sky was overcast, blocking out all the sunlight.
Wen Zhuo didn't really want to go out for the time being; her back was still aching.
Huh? Why doesn't it hurt anymore?
Wen Zhuo jumped out of bed, struggled to look at his back, and then reached out to touch it. It was really healed!
She became puzzled, sitting cross-legged on the bed, trying to remember what had happened yesterday. She had been burned by the sun yesterday, and then, uh, she couldn't remember.
Wen Zhuo scratched his head.
Suddenly, Wen Zhaoye's voice rang out from outside the door, tinged with coldness, sounding as if a storm was brewing: "Wen Zhuo? You're awake?"
Wen Zhuo became restless on the bed, the sheets were crumpled from her rolling. She hadn't expected the sun to suddenly come out outside. She hadn't hurt herself on purpose; she just wanted to have some fun!
The door suddenly opened from the outside, and Wen Zhaoye's handsome face appeared in front of Wen Zhuo.
He put on his apron again, and his skin seemed even paler. There was a new wound on his neck, with sparse teeth marks and red marks from sucking.
Wen Zhuo's gaze couldn't help but linger on his neck before she finally lowered her head obediently.
Ugh, I'm going to get scolded.
Unexpectedly, a voice rang out from above: "Why are you looking down? Aren't you going to eat?"
Wen Zhuo looked up in surprise, observing his expression. He glanced at her, his face indifferent, but his eyes quite meaningful. He pursed his lower lip, biting his lip until blood flowed out, carrying a sweet fragrance. Wen Zhuo's eyes widened instantly. Wen Zhaoye continued, "Come on."
Wen Zhuo had no lustful thoughts; his mind was filled with doubts about Wen Zhaoye's mental state.
Holy crap! Wen Zhaoye has gone mad.
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