After Ghost Marriage with My Arch-Rival - Chapter 13

The fireworks had burned out. Without their intermittent flashes of light, the car was plunged back into darkness, save for Zhong Qinhuai’s eyes—dark, heavy, and abnormally bright.

Liu Xiangyi couldn’t decipher the emotions hidden within them, but that unwavering gaze felt like a thin, icy mist rising from a deep pool, coiling around his body and anchoring him in place. Even without direct physical contact, Liu Xiangyi felt a chilling sense of entrapment, as if he had been locked onto by a predator from which there was no escape.

He sensed something was wrong. The kid seemed possessed tonight.

Zhong Qinhuai remained silent, and Liu Xiangyi followed suit, afraid that a single word might trigger something volatile in the ghost. The atmosphere in the cabin turned suffocatingly subtle.

Finally, driven to the edge by that piercing stare, Liu Xiangyi cleared his throat. He sat up stiffly and turned to open the door, intending to leave.

He pushed the handle. Once. Twice. The door didn’t budge.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

He fumbled with the locks, trying all four doors, but none would open. It was bizarre. He pulled out his phone to call for help, but the screen remained black—it wouldn’t even power on.

Liu Xiangyi: “??”

Trapped in his own car, he didn’t need to guess who was responsible. He turned, his willow-leaf eyes flashing with suppressed fury. “Zhong Qinhuai, what is the meaning of this?”

Zhong Qinhuai didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly raised a hand.

In the dim light, that hand was so pale it seemed to glow with a captured moonlight. It was slender yet undeniably powerful. Liu Xiangyi had felt that strength earlier—the iron grip that had pinned him against the glass, impossible to shake. Those fingers were as delicate as jade carvings, yet they carried a terrifying weight.

Under normal circumstances, Liu Xiangyi would have appreciated the aesthetics of such a beautiful hand. But now, that hand was reaching out, tracing the line of his lip with agonizing slowness.

Liu Xiangyi didn’t understand what kind of “nerve” the guy was hitting until he caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. He saw the smear of blood on his philtrum. Zhong Qinhuai was using his thumb to smudge the red along Liu Xiangyi’s lip line, as if intent on staining the entire surface.

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

This is psychopathic!

“Zhong—” Liu Xiangyi started, but before he could finish the name, the finger that had been wandering over his lips slipped inside.

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

The fingertip was icy, like cold jade polished in a sunless spring. It delved into his mouth, brazenly teasing the tip of his tongue.

This brat!

Liu Xiangyi took a sharp breath and bit down hard, showing no mercy. Yet Zhong Qinhuai didn’t even flinch. Only when the ghost caught sight of the flickering, vivid red of Liu Xiangyi’s tongue did his breathing fracture for a moment, as if a memory had struck him.

He withdrew his finger. Then, he leaned in closer—so close their breaths were inseparable. His eyes burned as they locked onto Liu Xiangyi’s.

“Continue?”

Liu Xiangyi: “?”

Zhong Qinhuai’s gaze remained fixed on Liu Xiangyi’s lips. Stained with his blood, they looked scarlet and seductive—like a poisonous fruit from Eden, radiating a bewitching aura. He stared, seemingly unable to help himself, drawing closer until their personal space vanished entirely.

Zhong Qinhuai arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t President Liu just say so? Next time, I should give a heads-up before I kiss you.”

His voice grew ragged, laced with a repressed, aching hunger. “The heads-up is over. Can we continue now?”

Liu Xiangyi: “!”

He desperately wanted to siphon more yin energy, but not in this heart-pounding, eerie atmosphere. He refused flatly. “President Zhong, today’s contest is over.”

Zhong Qinhuai’s eyes stayed glued to those blood-stained, crimson lips. “But I want to continue.”

His tone was casual, yet the sheer stubbornness in his eyes was staggering. He was like a monster that had lived in ignorance until today—having finally tasted blood for the first time, he was spiraling out of control. If he couldn’t taste it again, he looked ready to tear his prey apart.

As much as Liu Xiangyi hated to admit it, the desire in those eyes was too blatant to ignore. He sucked in a quiet breath.

At this point, he could only blame himself. He was the one who insisted on using “contests” as a cover to siphon energy. Now, this cold, aloof CEO—who his pursuers once joked might be impotent had developed a taste for lust and was addicted to the sensation.

What could Liu Xiangyi do? He was trapped. He couldn’t win a physical fight against a ghost.

He could only offer a sharp, gritted-teeth smile. “If I play your ‘game’ until you’re satisfied, will you let me out?”

The corners of Zhong Qinhuai’s mouth curled into a smirk—a satisfied, infuriating expression. He looked absolutely certain that Liu Xiangyi had no choice but to comply.

Fuming, Liu Xiangyi lunged forward and bit Zhong Qinhuai’s lip.

Zhong Qinhuai didn’t even blink at the pain. Instead, his face took on a look of eerie pleasure. It was the satisfaction of their lips finally meeting again. He dove in skillfully, capturing Liu Xiangyi’s tongue. As they tangled, a continuous surge of tremors washed over them—a pleasure so profound it made Zhong Qinhuai’s soul sway.

Back in school, he had once seen a young couple stealing a kiss in the campus woods. At the time, he had walked past without a second glance. Exchanging saliva? Disgusting. Even when bold pursuers tried to kiss him, he had dodged them with repulse, once even kicking someone away.

So why now? Why did he want to kiss him again and again? It wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

He kissed Liu Xiangyi until the man practically fled from the passenger seat to the back, yet a slender, powerful hand remained clamped firmly on the back of his neck. With nowhere left to run, Liu Xiangyi slumped against the back seat, forced to endure that long, icy, deep kiss.

The corners of his willow-leaf eyes were flushed red.

Zhong Qinhuai let out a deep, shuddering sigh against his lips. Why had he ever thought this was disgusting?

The taste of a kiss was sweet. It was maddeningly sweet.