Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Fang Qing was drunk.

I tried to take her home, but she refused to go back no matter what, insisting that I take her to my hotel instead.

The moment we entered the room, before I even had a chance to close the door, Fang Qing started kissing me like crazy.

I pushed her away, my voice dropping an octave.

“Aren’t you afraid Brother Xiong will find out?”

Fang Qing’s eyes were playful.

“What? Getting cold feet?”

I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag. “I’d rather not have my fingers chopped off.”

The smell of alcohol on Fang Qing, mixed with her heavy, cloying perfume, hit me full force, making my head spin.

She reached out and stubbed the cigarette out between my fingers, crushing the butt in her palm. She leaned in closer, her chest pressing against my arm, her voice dropping into a soft, sultry whisper.

“You’re Lu Yong’s younger brother. Even if he had ten times the courage, he wouldn’t dare touch you.”

Her breath fanned across my neck, hot and numbing.

“That cousin of yours is much more ruthless than Wang Xiong.”

The neon lights from outside filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting fragmented shadows across her face.

She lightly traced her fingertip across my cheek, moving slowly downward.

“Fang Qing, don’t play with fire.”

My chest was burning.

“Play with fire?”

She suddenly pinned me down onto the bed.

“Right now, I just want to devour someone.”

Once again, my reason was swallowed by desire.

The searing heat of our skin meeting overrode any dread I felt toward Brother Xiong.

The two of us were even more frenzied than the last time.

Outside the window was the bustling city, an endless stream of traffic on the roads.

Fang Qing and I stood before the windowsill, the curtains thrown wide open. Her fingertips gripped the edge of the sill until her knuckles turned white, her hair plastered to the side of her sweat-slicked neck. On her back, the Guanyin tattoo stared at me with a merciful, benevolent gaze.

The room was filled with our heavy breathing and uncontrolled moans.

It wasn’t until the last ounce of our strength was drained that we collapsed onto the messy bed.

“Pudding died this afternoon.”

Fang Qing’s chest was still heaving, and she had sobered up quite a bit.

“Who’s Pudding?” I asked.

She lifted her tattooed arm and pointed to the bared-teeth cat in the design.

“He was my family.”

I glanced at it and asked indifferently, “How did he die?”

Fang Qing instinctively clenched her fist.

“Wang Xiong ate him.”

“Just because I wouldn’t eat dog meat.”

I froze, unsure of what to say to comfort her.

After all, it was just a cat.

“I want to kill him.”

Fang Qing stared at the ceiling, continuing through gritted teeth.

I knew exactly who she meant by “him.”

I originally thought Fang Qing was just venting in the heat of the moment.

I didn’t expect that the very next day, Wang Xiong would actually be dead.