Love Rival Turned Lover - Chapter 3

“Help me, please.”

That hoarse, pleading voice echoed endlessly in her mind. Ling Qiao’er felt she must have lost her mind. Otherwise, why would she actually listen to this woman and help her?

She must have been bewitched—there was no other explanation. That was the only thought lingering in Ling Qiao’er’s dazed mind.

When the frantic knocking sounded at the door, Ling Qiao’er’s phoenix eyes sharpened. She snapped coldly toward the outside:

“Get lost! All of you—now! Immediately!”

Damn it.

Just the thought that those thugs outside had nearly laid their filthy hands on this girl made Ling Qiao’er feel a murderous urge to tear them all into pieces.

She didn’t know why. She had every chance to pull away from this dazed, heat-stricken girl and walk out.

But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. In fact, just imagining anyone else seeing this girl in such a flushed, helpless state made a violent, uncontrollable rage surge through her.

Originally, she had even planned to let those men outside take turns ravaging this girl.

But now?

Now she wanted to gouge their eyes out for even looking in this direction.

Her slender, pale fingers toyed with that slightly damp, delicate core, her movements growing firmer. Ling Qiao’er’s mist-filled eyes trembled. The more she listened to the woman’s increasingly heated breaths, the more her own soft legs unconsciously drew together.

Outside, the green-haired thug froze mid-knock, his face ashen, glancing at his equally sour-faced boss.

The boss—the sharp-featured, beady-eyed man—took a long breath, forcing down his irritation. One look at the tightly shut door, and he jerked his hand in retreat.

“Let’s go!”

Damn it.

Who told this little girl to be someone from the Ling family?

As long as the Ling family stood, he would never dare provoke them.

But the humiliation tonight—he would remember it. If the Ling family ever fell, he wouldn’t mind stomping on them while they were down. And he would make sure to “teach” this brat properly.

“Mmm.”

The moment desire found an outlet, Qian Xun lost the last shred of control she had left. Clinging tightly to the soft, cool body beneath her—carrying faint traces of a young woman’s sweetness—her flushed face twisted slightly as she squeezed her eyes shut. Her body arched and twisted like a boneless serpent.

Indulgence, indulgence.

“Ugh”

The air in the room burned with heat. On the large white bed, one pale and one flushed figure writhed tightly together, limbs entangled.

At the Gongliang residence, Gongliang Bingyi—who should have long fallen asleep—found himself tossing and turning for no reason.

He sat up, lifted his blanket, and picked up the phone on his bedside table. He stared at it for a few seconds before putting it down in frustration.

His adorable little girlfriend didn’t have a phone. He had tried to give her one, but she adamantly refused.

He couldn’t help but laugh whenever he remembered it: the normally soft, timid girl—like a frightened rabbit—would turn serious every time he bought her something, insisting he stop spending money on her.

His sweet little girlfriend, pure and simple to the point of melting his heart.

And only a girl like that—untainted by greed or vanity—was worthy of his sincerity.

Meanwhile, in the small motel.

The same pure, darling girlfriend he had been thinking of was already being overwhelmed by desire, mind lost completely.

Driven by pure instinct, her hips arched up, seeking more—wanting to press closer to those fingers that seemed laced with some kind of magic. Bit by bit, Qian Xun grew unsatisfied with mere teasing touches.

She nuzzled pitifully against the girl’s cheek. Completely overtaken by desire now, Qian Xun even spoke with brazen entitlement.

“More.”

“More. It’s not enough, not enough.”

Ling Qiao’er pressed her lips together, shooting a fierce glare at the girl who lay draped over her—soft, pliant, as obedient as a kitten. Her voice was muffled with frustration, embarrassment, and breathlessness.

“You—shameless w–woman, you, you —slu—”

But she never managed to say that last word.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. This behavior wasn’t like her at all. But no matter how strange it felt, she had no time to think right now.

She glared again at the girl lying atop her, purring lazily from the comfort of her touch like a spoiled cat. Rummaging through her memory, Ling Qiao’er recalled the physiological knowledge from their elite health education class, and—estimating carefully—slid a single finger inside.

Mm, tight, warm, slick.

Then something seemed to click inside Ling Qiao’er—like discovering some new and fascinating mechanism. When her fingertip brushed against that thin, delicate barrier, she didn’t pull back.

Instead, she pressed her lips together, gathered her resolve, and pushed through in one decisive motion.

The metallic scent of fresh blood spread instantly through the room.

“Ah!”

Qian Xun let out a stifled cry, biting down hard into Ling Qiao’er’s shoulder.

“Mmph!”

The sharp pain stabbing into her shoulder didn’t bring Ling Qiao’er back to her senses. Her jaw clenched, her jade-pale fingertip moving in and out with relentless determination. She didn’t hold back at all. Even as blood welled up from the bite on her shoulder, she showed no sign of stopping.

She was terrified of pain—always had been. But now Ling Qiao’er merely bit down on her own lip, forced herself to endure it, and didn’t even furrow a single brow.

Her expression twisted into something strange—almost feral.

Terrifying to behold.

Author’s Note (Translated):

Let me explain the setting here a bit:

The “top” (gong) crossed over together with Qian Xun.

She just doesn’t have self-awareness yet.

And intimate contact with Qian Xun, all that built-up tension, will accelerate her awakening.