By the time they reached the apartment, Lin Wan was half-asleep, her fingers clinging stubbornly to the car seat as if it were her safe harbor.
"Don't pull me. I want to sleep," she mumbled, refusing to move.
Chen Jin's patience had long worn thin. He pried her fingers loose, one by one, and hauled her out of the car. Her head hit the door with a dull thud. The driver winced but said nothing—one sharp glare from Chen Jin was enough to keep him quiet.
By the time he got her inside, his shirt was clinging to his back with sweat. He had seen drunk people before, but never one who fought with this much stubborn energy. Lin Wan had finally gone quiet, her head lolling against his shoulder. Her dress was wrinkled, one strap fallen down to bare a smooth shoulder. Her hair had come undone, a dark cascade tangled around her neck, the pale skin beneath gleaming faintly under the light.
He swallowed hard.
A moment ago she'd been a nuisance—loud, clumsy, impossible. But now, silent and soft, she looked almost unreal.
He muttered under his breath, she still needs to be cleaned up… and carried her toward the bathroom.
He filled the tub, the steam rising in gentle curls. When he set her down into the water, her skin glistened like peeled lychee flesh—fragile, translucent, too beautiful to look at for long. His pulse throbbed in his throat. This was supposed to be nothing more than taking care of a drunk woman, but every motion demanded restraint he no longer fully possessed.
Lin Wan lay still, her dark hair floating in the water like strands of seaweed, her lashes trembling but her face peaceful, as if she were a sleeping mermaid who'd forgotten she belonged to the ocean.
The light was too bright. The water was too clear. There was nowhere to look that wasn't her.
He forced himself to breathe, splashing her lightly with water, but the act felt mechanical. He told himself to move faster, to finish before his thoughts betrayed him. Yet when the water rippled and clung to her curves, something inside him snapped its fragile thread of discipline.
He looked away, exhaled sharply. "Damn it…"
But then she stirred. A small splash hit his hand—water had gotten into her ear. Lin Wan coughed, then lurched forward and began to vomit over the edge of the tub.
The sound was raw and ugly. It broke whatever illusion had lingered. Chen Jin grimaced, turning his face aside, disgusted by the smell, the mess, the absurdity of it all. Still, after a long sigh, he found himself cleaning up, his movements stiff, mechanical.
When she was done, she leaned weakly against the edge, eyes closed, whispering through her breath,
"Wang Xiao… my head hurts…"
His jaw locked.
That name again.
Anger surged up his spine. In the next breath, he seized the showerhead and blasted her with a spray of cold water.
"Look at me," he said through clenched teeth. "See who's standing in front of you."
She gasped and screamed at the sudden cold, her lashes flying open. But the face she looked into was met with the vacant confusion of someone still half-dreaming. She didn't recognize him at all.
Something twisted violently in his chest. He dropped the showerhead, water splattering across the tiles, and grabbed her by the arm. Lifting her as if she weighed nothing, he carried her out of the bathroom and tossed her onto the bed, the water from her hair soaking into the sheets.
His breath came harsh and uneven.
If she couldn't remember him, he would make her remember.
He tore at his belt, the buckle clinking sharply in the silence, and muttered under his breath, "You'll remember me tonight. You'll never forget this day as long as you live."
The room seemed to shrink. The air grew heavy and hot.
Lin Wan blinked, disoriented, trying to move—but her body didn't obey her.
The shadow over her leaned closer, his breath burning against her skin, his gaze filled with something dark and dangerous. And when she finally realized what was happening, it was already too late.
Her voice broke the silence first.
"Beast—get off me, get out!"
But her wrists were already caught, his grip unrelenting.
The rest was a blur of struggle and disbelief, of light and shadow crossing her face like waves she couldn't escape.
The first thing Lin Wan felt was pain—sharp, tearing pain that ripped her back into consciousness.
For a moment, her mind refused to understand what was happening. The world tilted; the sound dulled; her body went rigid. Then she saw him—bare skin, harsh breath, eyes dark and burning.
Her voice cracked the air.
"Get off me! Get out!"
Her wrists strained against something—his belt, twisted and tight around her skin. She pulled until she felt the bite of leather. Her rage blurred into terror. She wanted to tear him apart, to rip away the weight pressing her down, to make him vanish from this earth.
But Chen Jin didn't stop.
There was shock in his eyes for a split second—as if he hadn't expected her pain to be that real, that raw. He froze only long enough to realize the truth: she had never done this before.
For a man like him, that revelation was absurd. A woman with a fiancé, dressed to kill, walking into those places with that smile—and yet untouched? If his friends ever heard this, they'd laugh for days, call it impossible. Maybe her fiancé was useless. Maybe they both were.
The thought twisted into cruelty. His breath grew rough, his movements harder, not out of passion but out of something darker—a need to brand himself in her memory.
She would remember this night.
She would remember him.
When her eyes filled with hatred so deep it could kill, he knew he'd succeeded. But at that instant, something cold also crept into his chest. Logic, judgment, control—all gone. He told himself it was because of her—because she'd driven him insane, because he couldn't have her any other way.
Now, there was no turning back.
He was breathless, half-mad, a force moving without thought. Inside his mind, images collided—an icebreaker crushing through frozen seas, a rocket breaking atmosphere, nothing in the universe able to stop it. The sound of her breath, the tremor of her body—it all blurred into white noise.
He leaned close, his tone suddenly soft, almost tender.
"Lin Wan… I didn't know you were your first. I'm sorry if I hurt you…"
Her answer came in a spit that landed on his cheek.
"Bastard."
Her voice was hoarse, broken, but her hatred was clear enough to cut.
He laughed—quietly, bitterly. His fingers brushed her face, pinching her chin.
"Too late now, silly girl. You'll learn. Maybe even enjoy it."
"Go to hell!" she screamed, her eyes red and wild. "You're worse than an animal!"
He leaned closer, the mockery back in his voice.
"Animal? Do you even know how many animals were looking at you tonight? If it hadn't been me, do you know how many would've taken you?"
"Anyone but you," she hissed, shaking, her words trembling between pain and fury.
That hit him harder than she could have known.
His smile vanished. His voice dropped, cold and cruel.
"Too bad. You don't get to choose."
Then, silence—except for the dull rhythm of breath and the sound of something breaking inside her.
She stopped struggling. There was no strength left to fight.
Her mind retreated somewhere distant, somewhere quiet.
She told herself it wasn't real—that she was dreaming again, one of those nightmares that always came at night. She turned her face away, trying not to see, not to feel. The body was just pain; the rest of her drifted elsewhere.
The ceiling blurred. The air grew thick.
The man above her was no longer human, only a shadow moving against her will.
She didn't cry. She didn't make a sound. She wouldn't give him that.
But the pain kept coming—each wave sharper than the last, stripping away what little she had left.
If cruelty had a form, this was it.
Not just the violation of her body, but the erasure of everything she'd believed herself to be.
When it finally began to fade, she wasn't sure if she was breathing. Her eyes opened, unfocused, her face calm in a way that frightened even him. There were no tears, no words—just emptiness.
Chen Jin stared down at her.
Something in her stillness unnerved him. He forced her chin up, his voice a low growl.
"Look at me. See clearly. I'm your first man. Remember that. Forget it, and I swear I'll make you wish you were dead."
Lin Wan looked at him then—really looked.
And for the first time, her gaze held no fear.
Wish I were dead? She thought. You've already made sure of that.
At that moment, she saw what true ugliness looked like—not just on his face, but in his soul.
Every time he appeared in her life, he brought something darker, fouler than before.
How could someone like this exist?
She looked into his eyes, hoping to see the monster within—and saw only herself reflected, ruined and raw.
The rest blurred into silence.
The air was heavy with the scent of sweat and regret.
He loosened the belt, released her wrists. Red marks circled her pale skin—too delicate, too human. His fingers traced them, almost tenderly.
Her face was cold.
He laughed softly, a sound with no joy. "Didn't even warm up, huh…"
His hand brushed through her hair, stopping when he felt a faint scar at her temple—a small, almost invisible flaw, like a crack in perfect porcelain.
It made her more beautiful, not less.
He bent down and kissed it.
Then, he closed.
Her nose.
Her lips.
Her jaw.
Finally, he buried his face against her shoulder, whispering her name for the first time—
"Wanwan…"
It sounded soft, almost loving.
And yet, it was the cruelest sound in the world.