Male Lead: Quan Ying, 194cm tall, 23 years old, biological age 26, actual age 1026, known for his unhinged personality.
Female Lead: An Xiaoni, 163cm tall, 18 years old, clever and adorable.
"Trying to seduce me?"
The man’s lips curled into a wicked smile.
The girl danced gracefully, drawing closer with every step.
Inside the room, a sultry atmosphere swirled wantonly. The dim, amber light had been dimmed to its lowest setting, casting a veil that gently draped over everything. Shadows danced against the walls in a dreamlike haze, and every inch of the air was thick with an intoxicating scent.
The man, his upper body bare and revealing solid pectoral muscles, stood right in front of the girl. His chest heaved violently, and his eyes burned with a fierce, scorching fire—a heat so intense it felt as if it could set everything around them ablaze. He locked his gaze onto hers, not blinking once.
Slowly, he raised his hand, moving with such softness that it was as if he feared disturbing a fragile, beautiful dream. His fingertips trembled slightly as they touched the girl’s fair cheek. His fingers were rough yet warm, tracing the contours of her face from her temple down to her chin, as if meticulously mapping every detail of her features.
What a heart-stopping face she had! Pure, pitiful, and bewitching!
The girl tilted her head slightly, her long lashes fluttering and casting faint shadows over her flushed cheeks. Under his touch, her face bloomed with a charming rose, her eyes filled with a mix of shyness and an undeniable glimmer of anticipation.
The man took the opportunity to lean in, his breath drawing closer, searing and hot, making the girl’s heart race uncontrollably. He moved his lips toward hers, first brushing them against her forehead in a dragonfly-light kiss, imbued with infinite tenderness.
Then, his kisses traced the line of her brow and her eyelids, working their way down until finally, they settled firmly upon her lips.
They were impossibly soft!
The kiss began with agonizing slowness, as if he were savoring the most precious sweetness in the world, his lips pressing and grinding against hers. As their breathing grew ragged and heavy, the kiss turned feverish and wild. His arms locked around her waist, pulling her forcefully into his embrace as if to melt her entirely into his own body. The girl’s hands climbed instinctively onto his shoulders, her fingers digging into his back.
The dim light flickered, illuminating the pair as they clung tightly to one another. The man’s kisses trailed downward, sliding from her lips, over her delicate neck, and finally landing on her collarbone. He bit and suckled gently, leaving a trail of ambiguous marks behind.
The girl tilted her head back, letting out a soft moan.
As he continued to kiss downward, the man’s eyes glazed over, and he caught sight of a red butterfly birthmark on her chest, rendered strikingly vivid in the dim light. A wicked, charming smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the desire in his eyes deepening. He bowed his head slowly and kissed that butterfly mark.
In that moment, nothing existed in the world but the sound of their wild, racing heartbeats and a passion so scorching it felt nearly out of control. They kissed with fierce, violent intensity until the man suddenly swept her up, walking steadily toward the bed and laying her down.
...Their eyes locked, filled with love and longing. They fused together with heated, violent intensity, as if the very air around them had been set on fire. Time and space lost all meaning.
Suddenly—
A low roar tore from deep within the man’s throat.
Quan Ying snapped his eyes open, the remnants of the dream’s haze and attachment still lingering in his gaze. His body bolted upright uncontrollably, his forehead slick with a thin layer of cold sweat.
He gasped for air, his chest heaving. He sat there, panting, staring blankly ahead, as if he were still trapped within the depths of his dream, unable to pull himself free.
The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, spilling onto the foot of his bed. The man’s brows were knit tight, his expression complex.
He had these erotic dreams every single day. Yet, every time, they sent his heart racing and his blood surging. Countless times, he had held her close and tangled with her in his sleep. But every time he woke, there was only the cold bed and endless loneliness.
In truth, he had long grown accustomed to it.
What pained him was that no matter how hard he tried, he could never remember what the woman looked like upon waking.
Actually, he was used to that, too.
*Heh.* Waking up from an erotic dream without even knowing who the woman was.
Was she incredibly beautiful? Yes, she seemed stunning; otherwise, how could he have been so completely captivated in his dream?
Was she the ultimate temptress? Yes, it seemed so; otherwise, why did he always feel like his nose would bleed the moment he woke up?
Even though it was always her—*heh*, it had been years; why couldn't he ever switch out the female lead?
How utterly unoriginal!
After it was over, all that remained for Quan Ying was the memory of her fair skin, a sensation like an electric shock, and that red butterfly birthmark on her chest.
Quan Ying steadied his breathing, rested a hand on his forehead, let out a sigh, threw off the covers, and got out of bed.
Less than a minute later, the bathroom was filled with steam. Quan Ying pressed his hands against the wall, letting the warm water wash over his hardened body. His heavy breathing persisted.
The sound of water continued for half an hour. Once his body temperature had dropped, Quan Ying stepped out of the bathroom. In the spacious, bright dressing room, he grabbed a shirt at random.
He opened the bedroom door and began buttoning his shirt as he walked. He followed the long corridor, turned the corner, descended the stairs, and arrived at the first-floor dining room.
"Sir."
A man of about sixty, dressed in a crisp suit, bowed respectfully to him, his voice filled with reverence and warmth.
"Mm." Quan Ying responded dismissively.
The older man, carrying a file folder, followed closely behind him. "These are the major decisions from 500 global companies over the past two days."
The man raised his eyelids, pulled out a dining chair, and sat down. "Tell me about the ones that absolutely cannot be avoided."
Quan Ying held his glass of milk and took a sip.
Every morning at breakfast, this kind old man would arrive on time to report on the work. He owned over 500 companies of various sizes across the world, but he never appeared in public, leaving everything to be handled by this man at his side.
The man at his side was the richest man in the Capital and a top-tier hidden global tycoon—the head of the Fu family: Fu Jingzhi.
An exquisite breakfast was spread across the long dining table. The man ate, seemingly listening to the old man’s report, yet seemingly not listening at all. He ate his breakfast leisurely, saying nothing.
Fu Jingzhi was used to it.
When breakfast concluded, Fu Jingzhi was still reporting in a methodical, point-by-point fashion. An hour of work reports every morning for hundreds of global companies—he had already condensed the time to provide a simple summary.
For some reason, Quan Ying interrupted with an impatient expression:
"That’s enough. You handle it. Thank you for your hard work."
Fu Jingzhi closed the documents, stood straight, and replied:
"It is my duty, sir."
Quan Ying stood up, walked around the table to the floor-to-ceiling window, and raised his eyes to meet Fu Jingzhi’s gaze.
Fu Jingzhi asked, "Sir, did you sleep well last night?"
The corners of Quan Ying’s mouth curled up:
"Old man, you know the answer to that."