Chapter 17: What’s Going On

Lan Yanzhi was flirting with a sultry and glamorous woman in his arms, but the corner of his eye was fixed on Mu Sihan. He watched as Mu Sihan pulled that pretty young girl onto his lap, his wolfish hand pressed possessively on her slender waist. Lan Yanzhi's expression turned subtly complicated.

In his understanding and memory, Young Master Mu never trifled with women, and his fastidiousness kept him from any contact with those he wasn't interested in.

So what was happening now?

Could there be something illicit between the two?

But apart from some annoyance, the girl’s eyes held neither affection nor shyness—

Tsk, to think there was a woman who showed no interest in Fourth Brother.

How rare.

Nan Zhi could hardly bear the sharp, brooding gaze boring into her from above. She struggled to rise from the man’s lap. But as soon as she stood and took a couple of steps, someone’s foot shot out and tripped her.

Unprepared, Nan Zhi fell forward. Her hands flailed for support, aiming for the black coffee table, but in the chaos she felt a sudden tug on her slender arm.

Lan Yanzhi watched, half-amused, as Nan Zhi was set up by Young Master Mu and ended up tumbling right back into his arms. Others might not have noticed, but Lan Yanzhi saw clearly: it was Mu Sihan himself who had stuck out the treacherous foot.

Mu Sihan took the brunt of Nan Zhi’s little handbag crashing into his head, grunting in pain. His expression darkened as he caught the woman full in his embrace. Her body collided with his chest as his back slammed into the sofa.

The crisp, cool scent of the man’s breath drifted down over Nan Zhi’s forehead with every exhale. Her long lashes fluttered as she looked up at him. Under the refracted light, his sculpted, sharply defined face appeared even more striking. His deep, pitch-black eyes were half-lidded and all the more unfathomable, a trace of menace hooking at the corners, the very picture of unpredictable danger.

Nan Zhi was about to say something when a sudden flush of warmth surged in her lower abdomen, followed by a faint, dull ache.

Disaster—her period had come early.

Ever since giving birth to Xiao Kai, her cycle had never returned to normal.

All she wanted now was to leave as quickly as possible, but the man behind her was clearly unwilling to let go.

Mu Sihan tossed his cigar aside, his long, fair hand gripping a small patch of delicate skin at the back of Nan Zhi’s neck. He drew his cold, striking face close to her ear, his tone wickedly indifferent, “Miss, you think you can just leave after groping me?”

If he hadn’t mentioned it, Nan Zhi might have tried to forget that strange sensation still lingering in her palm.

She coughed awkwardly. “It was a mistake. If you hadn’t grabbed me so suddenly, that wouldn’t have happened.”

Seeing the woman’s face pale, her jaw set tight, Mu Sihan pressed his tongue against his cheek, the faintest laugh curling his lips.

Nan Zhi had no idea what he found amusing, but his level of danger only seemed to climb in her mind.

Her lower abdomen ached more and more; she had no patience left for conversation and began to struggle to get up.

Her resistance made his Adam’s apple bob. She looked delicate and slim, but she was surprisingly strong—for a woman. Still, it was no match for him; one arm was enough to hold her securely.

Just as she turned her head to glare at him, he gave her a lazy smile, dipped his head, and his thin lips caught her jade-like earlobe with precision, the bridge of his prominent nose brushing against the soft, downy edge of her ear.

“Miss, do you know what happened to the last woman who tried to touch Young Master Mu? She didn’t even succeed—yet she still lost a finger. You say it was an accident, but you did touch me. How should I punish you?”

His final words lingered, drawn out with a dangerous, almost bloody edge.