A coadjuvante descartável desperta, e o príncipe do círculo de Pequim se ajoelha chorando de arrependimento.

"How many years has it been, and you still can't get used to it?" The man turned her body to face him and gave a low laugh.

Song Xixi forced a self-deprecating smile, her lips curving bitterly. Her slender, fair fingers brushed against his lips. "Isn't it exactly this tension that you like?"

He raised an eyebrow, caught her fingers, and drew them into his mouth. "Do you still want more?"

His voice was like velvet brushed over with sandpaper, soaked in the languor and seduction unique to satisfaction—thin threads of temptation that had ensnared her for years.

Song Xixi's gaze landed on the trash can, overflowing with so many used balloons that she needed both hands to count them. She gave a faint, indifferent smile. Her pale skin was tinged with a soft flush, her eyes swirling with unspoken resentment. Beneath her delicate nose, her lips bore fresh marks from her own teeth.

Tonight, they nearly broke their own record.

"No, it hurts now." She refused. This man had a frightening amount of energy! No wonder she had lied to herself for so many years, believing she had won love.

Without thinking, she reached out and poked his perfect abs.

"Still flirting?" he teased.

"I just want to touch them once more, or I won’t get another chance," Song Xixi replied, a smile still hanging on her lips.

But his eyes froze, and his face darkened instantly. "What do you mean by that?"

Wrapping herself in the silk quilt, Song Xixi sat up, meeting