After Ghost Marriage with My Arch-Rival - Chapter 12

Sensing he had won yet another round, Liu Xiangyi felt a surge of satisfaction. He was about to continue peeling shrimp when he realized Zhong Qinhuai was still staring at him. That gaze made Liu Xiangyi’s scalp tingle.

Did I take the joke too far?

Liu Xiangyi cleared his throat, preparing to use a bit of reverse psychology, but Zhong Qinhuai suddenly began to eat. Moreover, he ate in total silence.

Liu Xiangyi waited, but when the usual sarcastic retort didn’t come, he felt out of sorts. He arched an eyebrow in confusion. “Isn’t President Zhong forgetting to say something?”

“Say what?” Zhong Qinhuai kept his head down, focused on his food.

Liu Xiangyi teased with a smile, “Something like: ‘President Liu, don’t misunderstand; I’m only eating this out of a principle of not wasting food, without a shred of personal feeling.’ Isn’t that your mandatory procedure every time?”

The hand holding Zhong Qinhuai’s chopsticks faltered for a fraction of a second. Then, he replied with airy indifference, “Do I really need to emphasize that every single time?”

Zhong Qinhuai looked up, his eyes returning to their customary playful mockery. “You don’t actually think a mere bowl of shrimp is enough to make me accept you, do you, President Liu?”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

Perish the thought. That sounds terrifying.

After dinner, the two headed back. Under the cover of night, Liu Xiangyi was driving toward Mount Wu when a series of whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sounds erupted in the distance.

Fireworks were being launched from the opposite bank of the river.

Liu Xiangyi personally didn’t care much for such displays, but when he caught Zhong Qinhuai lowering the window to watch out of the corner of his eye, he slowed the car to a stop by the roadside.

Sensing the car had stopped, Zhong Qinhuai turned, looking at Liu Xiangyi with surprise. “Is President Liu this considerate toward everyone?”

Stopping the car just because he had glanced at some fireworks?

Liu Xiangyi smiled. “Only toward injured patients.”

Zhong Qinhuai’s eyes flickered.

Another whoosh echoed as fireworks burst in the night sky. The booms were so loud that speech became impossible. Liu Xiangyi simply turned his head to watch as well. Someone was putting on quite a show; the sky was saturated with color.

After a moment, he felt an intense gaze on his face. He glanced sideways. At some point, Zhong Qinhuai had stopped looking at the sky and was now staring directly at him.

The fireworks exploded and fell like a shower of shooting stars, their light reflecting in Liu Xiangyi’s eyes. Those signature willow-leaf eyes curved slightly, swaying like leaves caught in an evening breeze.

Zhong Qinhuai stared, entranced.

His heart began to sway in tandem; the quiet lake of his soul was suddenly rippled by the night wind. He felt a sudden, unbearable itch in his heart. Without pausing to analyze what it was, he leaned in and kissed him.

It was reckless and urgent. Only upon touching those warm, soft lips did the sudden craving and restlessness in his chest find a modicum of relief.

Then, Liu Xiangyi shoved him away.

Liu Xiangyi smiled, though he spoke through gritted teeth. “President Zhong, is your brain diseased as well?”

Zhong Qinhuai watched him. He felt that when those willow-leaf eyes curved, they formed a beautiful, dangerous arc. Even when laced with fury, that curve acted like a tiny hook, pulling him in. He wanted to see it more clearly.

Without overthinking, Zhong Qinhuai followed his impulses and drew closer.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

He didn’t know why this guy was suddenly acting up, let alone why he was crowding him. Uncomfortable with the lack of personal space, Liu Xiangyi leaned his upper body back, attempting to create distance.

But for every inch he retreated, Zhong Qinhuai pressed forward until Liu Xiangyi’s back hit the cold glass of the car window. With nowhere left to turn, he reached out and grabbed Zhong Qinhuai’s shoulder to stop his advance.

“Zhong Qinhuai.”

It was the first time Liu Xiangyi had used his full name, his voice heavy with warning. But Zhong Qinhuai acted as if he were deaf. He continued to stare. In the dim light of the car, those bright, dark eyes made Liu Xiangyi’s heart skip a beat.

Before he could react, Zhong Qinhuai leaned in again. They were so close their breaths mingled; their lips were a mere fraction of an inch apart.

Driven to the limit, Liu Xiangyi opened his mouth to snap at him, but Zhong Qinhuai chose that exact moment to drop his head.

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

So cold!

His lips were met with an icy chill. His instinct was to push him away, but Zhong Qinhuai was unexpectedly forceful, pinning him against the window in a near-forced kiss, clearly trying to slip his tongue inside just as he had in the study.

Realizing the kid was serious, Liu Xiangyi stopped holding back. He took a deep breath and shoved with all his might. Caught off guard, Zhong Qinhuai was finally pushed back a short distance.

However, Zhong Qinhuai kept his arm braced against the window, trapping Liu Xiangyi in the triangular space between the glass, the seat, and his own body—an inescapable cage.

Liu Xiangyi’s eyes darkened, but before he could explode, Zhong Qinhuai said frostily, “What? Is President Liu scared?”

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

The competitive drive he had nurtured since childhood was instantly ignited. But quickly, he calmed himself. He sensed that something was wrong with the kid tonight—he seemed possessed. Instead of jumping into the contest as usual, he asked:

“Don’t you think this is quite rude, President Zhong?”

Zhong Qinhuai replied hollowly, “Did President Liu forget what he said last night? We never determined a winner in that contest.”

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

Flashes of the chaotic struggle in the dark study surged through his mind.

Zhong Qinhuai continued languidly, “What, has President Liu not had enough rest? Or is it that you’re afraid to continue?”

Liu Xiangyi: “…”

“If President Liu is afraid to continue, does that mean we can finally declare a winner in this test of courage?”

Fantastic! This kid really knew exactly how to push his buttons. The strange, subtle atmosphere vanished, replaced by the familiar competitive friction Liu Xiangyi knew so well.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, President Zhong. Careful you don’t get slapped in the face!” Liu Xiangyi huffed a laugh.

Their eyes met—the signal for the match to begin.

This time, Zhong Qinhuai was the aggressor. The moment their lips touched, he lunged inside. It was as if he had tasted sweetness in the study and, having developed a craving, was no longer satisfied with mere contact. He dove in, coiling around Liu Xiangyi’s tongue and siphoning with intent. His movements were no longer as clumsy or uncoordinated as before; he had become markedly more skilled.

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

His first instinct was to resist, but as he felt the threads of yin energy drifting from the seal of their lips, he hesitated.

He could win. He could siphon energy. It was a win-win.

Liu Xiangyi sucked back with a vengeance.

Two wet, slick tongues locked in battle once more, each coiling tighter than the other, each delving deeper. There was no denying that this competitive game still produced a rush of pleasure. Because neither would show weakness, the kiss grew deeper and more forceful. Adrenaline spiked, and a steady stream of sensation made their scalps tingle.

With a dull thud, Liu Xiangyi was pinned back against the glass again, head tilted back as he traded blows with Zhong Qinhuai.

It wasn’t a kiss. it was a war.

Their kiss held not a trace of tenderness, nor a flicker of romantic sentiment. Instead, it was violent and predatory—like a wildfire ignited on a desolate wasteland, burning without restraint, devouring everything in its path with wild, savage intensity.

There were no streetlamps along the riverbank, and the interior of the car remained unlit. In the oppressive darkness of the cabin, the slick, messy sounds of the kiss, the wet friction of their tongues, and the chaos of their ragged breathing intertwined, echoing within the confined space.

Liu Xiangyi felt as though his lungs were failing him. He attempted to shove the ghost away, but Zhong Qinhuai caught his hand mid-motion, pinning it firmly against the glass of the car window.

Outside, the fireworks continued to soar and plummet in a relentless cycle, casting flickering shadows into the car. A single hand was braced against the window—pale, slender, and ghostly.

Zhong Qinhuai’s fingers slid into the gaps of Liu Xiangyi’s own, forcing their hands to interlock before squeezing tight. Their ten fingers were suddenly bound together in a desperate, lingering grip, and Liu Xiangyi’s hand was crushed against the cold glass, rendered completely immobile.

As the kiss deepened, every attempt Liu Xiangyi made to break free was met with an iron-clad counter-grip from Zhong Qinhuai, ensuring there was no escape.

Even their hands seemed locked in a private war. Against the pale skin of their knuckles, faint blue veins surfaced and throbbed, pulsing with adrenaline, until Zhong Qinhuai finally forced Liu Xiangyi’s hand flat against the window in a crushing lock.

In the night sky, the fireworks continued their assault—screaming upward, exploding in thunderous booms, and cascading down like a meteor shower. As they vanished into the river, a sharp flash of light lanced through the car window.

Neither man had the leisure to appreciate the view; they were lost in their frantic, relentless struggle.

Only when they were on the verge of suffocation did Liu Xiangyi try to pull back, but Zhong Qinhuai remained coiled around him, refusing to let go.

In a final act of defiance, Liu Xiangyi bit down hard on Zhong Qinhuai’s lip. He drew blood. The metallic tang of it immediately flooded their mouths. In that split second when Zhong Qinhuai’s brow furrowed in pain, Liu Xiangyi shoved him back with everything he had, gasping for air.

Zhong Qinhuai stayed braced against the window, still hovering dangerously close—so close their noses nearly touched—his own chest heaving as he drew heavy, labored breaths.

Drawing blood wasn’t enough to quell Liu Xiangyi’s irritation. He reached out and slapped Zhong Qinhuai’s cheek lightly, his eyes narrowing into a dangerous, warning slit.

“President Zhong, from now on, give me a heads-up before you start a ‘contest.’ Can you manage that?”

Zhong Qinhuai didn’t offer a word in response. His dark, hollow eyes remained fixed on Liu Xiangyi’s lips, which were inches away.

They were slick and glistening, swollen and flushed a deep, bruised crimson from the biting and siphoning of the past few minutes. Like overripe fruit, they seemed to exude a decadent, heady fragrance.

And there, right on the philtrum, sat a single, stray drop of his blood.

Zhong Qinhuai’s breathing suddenly fractured.

He wanted to kiss him again. More than anything.