Sealed with a Kiss - Chapter 3

At the edge of the crowd, a girl leaned casually against a table, her nearly six-foot stature making her stand out.

She wore a sleeveless white shirt and loose-fitting black cargo pants. A silver chain hung from her waist, glinting coldly under the lights, while black boots hugged her straight calves.

Moving up, her face was etched with a rebellious air, its lines sharp and well-defined. Her eyes held a hint of danger, and her lips, pressed into a thin line, combined with her nonchalant expression to signal her foul mood.

Chu Feng’s outburst was cut short. He glared back at the girl in irritation. “Song Wanjuan, stay out of this.”

This was Song Wanjuan, the current captain of Evil.

Nan Ning’s gaze uncontrollably settled on Song Wanjuan, but Song Wanjuan’s eyes only lingered on her for a brief moment before shifting away with unruffled indifference. She turned to the now infuriated Chu Feng, her gaze contemptuous. “Uncle Chu is looking for you everywhere. Go or don’t, it’s up to you.”

With that, Song Wanjuan straightened up, as if she had only come to deliver a message, and then strode out of everyone’s sight.

Chu Feng muttered a curse under his breath and, ignoring Nan Ning, turned and left the lounge area.

Nan Ning’s gaze remained fixed on Song Wanjuan, only pulling away once her figure had completely vanished from sight. The calm expression Nan Ning had worn moments before dissolved, replaced by an unidentifiable emotion—something that looked like nostalgia, yet also resembled mockery.

In the glass before her, the crimson liquid shimmered under the lights, refracting a captivating hue that reminded her of a sunset from a distant day, breathtaking and intoxicating.

Nan Ning set aside the fruit platter and lifted the glass, swirling it gently. The wine flowed, creating a kaleidoscopic display of light and shadow. She let out a soft, airy laugh and tilted her head back, letting the liquid pour into her open mouth. It tasted bitter and rich. A few stray drops escaped the corner of her lips, leaving a faint red trail that trickled down her smooth neck and pooled in the deep hollow of her collarbone, forming a small, crimson lake.

When the pool overflowed, the wine seeped into her shirt. The already thin fabric became increasingly transparent where the liquid soaked through.

Yet Nan Ning’s eyes remained as cold and distant as ever, lazy and fearless. Gradually, a rosy flush crept across her pale cheeks, and the aloof, ascetic aura she usually projected was replaced by a hazy, intoxicated glimmer in her gaze.

A mist of tears slowly clouded her eyes, leaving them clear yet lost.

She doesn’t remember me.

Nan Ning stared blankly at the glass, the thought echoing through her mind like she was adrift at sea, her entire being consumed by that single, haunting realization.

Right, it was her fault. She was the one who left first.

So it was all her fault.

A wave of heat surged up her spine, then radiated from her heart through her entire body. Nan Ning’s gaze dropped to the glass in her hand, her mind slow to register its presence. Where did this come from?

But her thoughts were already a void. The fabric at her shoulder and neck, soaked with spilled drink, clung to her skin, sticky and suffocating.

Nan Ning narrowed her eyes and undid the first button of her blouse, revealing the delicate hollow of her collarbones. The protruding bone looked like the wings of a butterfly in flight.

“Nan Ning?” Another man’s voice called out, anxious and distorted, sounding both near and far.

Nan Ning felt as if her whole body was engulfed in flames, completely unaware of how she appeared to others.

“So hot…” Her voice was a faint whimper, like a kitten’s.

Someone snatched the glass from her hand. Her fingers curled slightly as they brushed against the rim, as if trying to hold on, before she went limp and let it be taken.

Sheng Ming had specially asked President Qi to deliver the invitation to Nan Ning. After getting ready with meticulous care, he realized he had nearly missed the banquet. He rushed to the venue, searching the crowd for her, and finally found her slumped unconscious on a table behind a pile of fruit platters.

Sheng Ming was no stranger to the messy affairs of their social circle. One look at Nan Ning’s state told him she’d likely been drugged. The empty glass she held loosely in her hand immediately drew his attention.

He took the glass from her, brought it to his nose, and sniffed gently. He instantly recognized the substance inside—a potent aphrodisiac favored by the city’s playboys to subdue disobedient young women. A single sip was enough to leave a person disoriented, their mind a fog, completely at the mercy of whoever controlled them.

Judging by the empty glass, Nan Ning must have drunk quite a bit.

Ignoring the curious gazes of the crowd, Sheng Ming leaned down to help her up, intending to find a room where she could rest. But before his hand could even touch her, Nan Ning instinctively flinched away.

Her half-closed eyes were unfocused yet wary, like a cornered animal. It seemed as if anyone who dared approach would be met with her most ruthless claws.

Sheng Ming frowned and spoke in a gentle voice, “Nan Ning, do you recognize me? It’s Sheng Ming.”

Nan Ning couldn’t see the world before her clearly. The heat surging through her body felt like an endless tide, dragging her down into the depths of the ocean.

No, I can’t.

Her fading consciousness screamed a warning. Chu Feng had drugged the wine he’d just given her. Distracted by Song Wanjuan’s sudden appearance, she had lowered her guard and drunk the tainted glass without a second thought.

A man’s voice, strange and crisp, reached her ears. Nan Ning instinctively tried to push herself up and scramble away.

But as she rose, her legs gave way, and she nearly collapsed.

In the moment she began to fall, she felt a body, cool to the touch, catch her.

Immediately, the overpowering scent of sage and lavender enveloped her, invading her senses. The familiar fragrance was a lifeline, and Nan Ning clung to it like a drowning woman.

Her long, pale fingers gripped the cool arm of the perfume’s owner so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

But the instant she touched him, a hand clamped onto her chin and forced her away. The fingers were cold, their grip merciless.

“Xiao…” Nan Ning’s voice was a mere whisper, so faint it was almost a breath of air.

Sheng Ming watched, helpless, as Nan Ning fell into Song Wanjuan’s arms—who had appeared out of nowhere—and began to nuzzle against his clothes like a clingy kitten.

“Song—” Sheng Ming’s voice was cautious, his posture tense as he hesitated, unsure of what to do.

Song Wanjuan’s gaze remained fixed on Nan Ning. Only when she heard Sheng Ming’s voice did she lift her eyelids to glance at him. The threat and ruthlessness in her eyes made Sheng Ming certain that if he didn’t explain quickly, his life might end tonight.

“I wasn’t the one who gave it to her. I just got here, and she was already like this, I swear,” Sheng Ming stammered, too terrified to provoke her. He added hastily, “I was just trying to find her a place to rest and call an ambulance, really. I do like her, but I’d never use such underhanded methods.”

Feeling Nan Ning nuzzle against her, Song Wanjuan declared coldly, “She is not someone you can covet.”

With that, she swept Nan Ning up in her arms. The 167cm tall Nan Ning looked small and docile in her embrace, her furrowed brow smoothing as she pressed closer to Song Wanjuan’s clothes. The hot breath she exhaled against Song Wanjuan’s exposed collarbone caused the latter’s grip to tighten instinctively.

Grinding her teeth, Song Wanjuan shot a sharp glance at Sheng Ming, who was now cowering like an ostrich. “Clean up the glass. And I don’t want a single word about what happened tonight to get out.”

Without waiting for a response, she ignored the curious stares of the crowd, strode through them, and stepped into the elevator.

Nan Ning breathed in the familiar scent, instinctively tightening her hold. Song Wanjuan’s silk short-sleeved shirt felt cool and comforting against her skin, and Nan Ning wished she could cling to her even closer.

Gone was the calm indifference she had displayed earlier that day. Her closed eyes couldn’t hide the redness at the corners, and fine beads of sweat covered her forehead, dampening the hair at her temples until it clung to her skin.

The searing heat of the woman in her arms seeped through their thin summer clothes, washing over Song Wanjuan.

Worse still, Nan Ning seemed completely oblivious to how she was restraining Song Wanjuan, relentlessly nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

“Don’t push it,” Song Wanjuan muttered, her gaze fixed on the elevator’s rapidly changing floor numbers. She gritted her teeth, her tongue unconsciously grazing a sharp canine tooth in an attempt to stay focused through the slight sting.

In her hazy state, Nan Ning seemed to hear Song Wanjuan’s voice and responded with a soft, “Mmm”

The sound, like a cat’s purr, tickled Song Wanjuan’s ear.

Song Wanjuan took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and then opened them again. Ding— The elevator doors slid open.

She carried Nan Ning to her room and nudged the door open with her toe. It creaked slowly, revealing the space inside.

Song Wanjuan struggled to pry Nan Ning’s arms from around her neck and flicked on the light. The sudden brightness made Nan Ning wince, and she buried her face in Song Wanjuan’s chest.

Soft strands of hair brushed against Song Wanjuan’s cheek and earlobe. As if not satisfied, Nan Ning nuzzled her head against her, letting out a soft whimper.

“It hurts.”

The dampness spreading across her chest made Song Wanjuan stiffen. She snapped, “Whose fault is that?”

She kicked open the bathroom door, pried Nan Ning’s octopus-like grip off her, and dumped her into the bathtub. Then, she grabbed the showerhead and blasted Nan Ning’s face with the strongest setting.

The icy water cascaded over Nan Ning’s body, jolting her into temporary clarity.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the woman she had only ever seen in her dreams staring down at her with cold indifference. Her eyes were filled with impatience, sharp and piercing, as if she were looking at her, yet also as if her gaze had no fixed point.

Nan Ning’s face went pale. The water in the tub was slowly rising over her soaked body, creating a jarring contrast of ice and fire. It was a miserable feeling, especially to be exposed in such a pathetic state before her ex.

“Are you awake now?” Song Wanjuan’s voice was as cold and impersonal as her gaze.

Nan Ning struggled to prop herself up with one arm, but her hand slipped on the smooth side of the tub. The strength she’d just mustered vanished, and she tumbled back in, sending a splash of water onto Song Wanjuan’s shirt. A few dark stains bloomed on the fabric, and Song Wanjuan’s expression darkened again.

Nan Ning managed a weak, half-smile, half-sob. “I’m sorry for the trouble. May I have my phone? I need to call my assistant to pick me up.”

Liu Liu was still waiting for her downstairs.

But Song Wanjuan remained motionless, her arms crossed as she looked down at Nan Ning with no intention of helping.

Nan Ning bit her tongue hard to keep from making a sound in front of Song Wanjuan. Seeing that Song Wanjuan was still holding the showerhead over her, she tried to sit up again.

Her fingers gripped the edge of the tub, her neatly manicured nails turning white from the effort. The water in the tub, warmed by her body heat, seemed to conspire with the desire churning inside her.

Her thin shirt clung to her skin, soaked through. Nan Ning no longer cared how pathetic she looked. Escape was her only thought.

“Nanke.” Song Wanjuan spoke abruptly, then paused before continuing, “The drug you’ve been given…”

Nan Ning couldn’t bear to hear Song Wanjuan’s voice right now. Compared to the name she’d never heard before, Song Wanjuan’s slightly husky tone felt more like an aphrodisiac, a lethal poison that would make her surrender completely.

Song Wanjuan seemed completely oblivious to Nan Ning’s state, continuing unhurriedly, “This drug is rarely found on the market. Even a hospital couldn’t treat it with modern medicine.”

The water temperature in the bathtub continued to rise, soon overflowing and splashing onto the floor, flooding Song Wanjuan’s bare feet.

“You have two choices. First, you can stay in this bathtub all night. If you can make it through until tomorrow, you’ll be fine.”

Nan Ning’s dazed gaze met Song Wanjuan’s calm yet oppressive eyes through the steam. Then, she heard Song Wanjuan offer the second option.

“Second, although it might not be as effective, it could help you ease the pain…” Song Wanjuan knelt down, the showerhead in her hand still casually tracing patterns over Nan Ning’s body. Every point it touched made Nan Ning feel as if she were about to burst into flames.

“So, why don’t you beg me?”

“Beg me to help you.”

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