He hovered over her, a rare, playful smile on his lips. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her sides, eliciting soundless giggles from her.
The sight of her joyous, silent laughter was a balm to his hardened heart. Here, away from the judging eyes...
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Standing in front of the mirror, Shuren finished fastening the last button of his burgundy shirt, his movements precise and methodical.
As he glanced up, his eyes caught sight of Meilin in the mirror’s reflection.
She had shed most of her wedding dress and now stood in only a red silk robe. The robe was loose, its rich fabric clinging to her delicate curves.
Noticing his burning stare, Meilin flushed deeply, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. She instinctively hugged her body, her arms crossing over her chest in a modest attempt to shield herself.
Shuren’s eyes trailed down her body in a slow, deliberate manner. His gaze was intense, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
Meilin’s expression was a mix of bashfulness and vulnerability as she stood there, rooted to the spot, unsure of how to react to his blatant appraisal.
Her eyes, wide and innocent, met his briefly before she looked away, unable to hold his gaze.
While he adjusted his cufflinks, Shuren’s eyes continued their languorous journey down her body, taking in every detail.
The way the robe clung to her curves, the delicate line of her collarbone, the subtle swell of her breasts beneath the fabric—each detail was noted and appreciated.
Given that she now carried the title of his wife, he could indulge in his perversions, couldn't he? The wicked man thought and chuckled as he lowered his head to put on his watch, his attention momentarily diverted from her.
Meilin relaxed, thinking it was over, and sat on the edge of their bed, her posture perfect, her movements graceful as she neatly folded and tidied her wedding dress. The dress now held great sentiment to her, marking her new journey as a married woman.
Shuren, done with his watch, looked up again, turning around as he faced her seated self.
The man could actually feel the change in the energy of his room. It wasn’t dark and oppressive as it used to be; there was a lightness now, a subtle illumination brought about by a certain someone's presence.
His mute dove didn’t need to speak to fill the space with warmth. Just being there, she transformed the atmosphere, making it feel less like a fortress and more like a home.
He adjusted his broad shoulders and casually put his hands in his pockets, his black pants creased perfectly as he strolled over to her.
When Meilin noticed him approaching her, she shyly wrapped her arms around herself just like before, making the man smirk at her bashful reflexes.
“Nu-uh, you don't do that,” the man said, his voice carrying a tone of seduction as he walked behind her, his arms slipping through hers, gently removing her arms from around herself.
Meilin’s eyes fluttered as she let him do so, remaining docile under his touch.
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, “Looks like someone is already forgetting their place. Where they belong, hmm?”
“Do I need to remind you?” His voice drawled wickedly, each word a seductive command. His hands traced her curves through the silk of her robe, his touch both teasing and intimate.
He kissed her temple while untying the knot of her robe before sliding it down her shoulders, his breath teasing her flushed skin. “Know your place,” he murmured.
His hand then crawled up to her throat, gripping it delicately yet firmly. He tilted her head upward, forcing her to face him.
Meilin's eyes closed in quiet submission as he bowed his head, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. His thumb brushed over her throat, feeling her shiver in response.
“You don’t hide from me,” he murmured against her lips, his voice a blend of authority and tenderness. Each brush of his thumb on her throat was a reminder of his dominance and her compliance.
The subtle tremor in her body only deepened his satisfaction, a silent acknowledgment of his control.
Meilin’s heart raced, her breath mingling with his as she yielded to the kiss. Her hands remained at her sides, her posture one of quiet submission as the kiss deepened.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes held a dark, satisfied gleam. Meilin's lashes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of trust and vulnerability.
“Because..” he whispered, his thumb still brushing against her throat. “This is where you stand right now.”
Meilin nodded slightly, her silence conveying her acceptance and understanding.
The kiss left a lingering warmth, a mix of desire and submission that Shuren savored.
His smile was knowing as he observed her, his hand resting on her throat as a mark of his unyielding control and her willing surrender.
...
As the morning light streamed through the grand windows, Norbu, the ever-diligent butler, stood by the staircase, his posture impeccable.
He watched as the young master, Shuren, descended the stairs with a languid grace, whistling a soft tune.
He was dressed in a perfectly tailored burgundy shirt beneath a vest, his attire completed by a pair of leather gloves.
Norbu bowed slightly. “Good morning, young master.”
Shuren nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze sharp. “Where is everyone?” he asked, his voice carrying an edge of impatience.
“The family has gone to the vacation penthouse,” Norbu replied respectfully. “It’s Madam’s birthday today.” The Madam was Shuren’s stepmother.
Shuren’s expression darkened as he paused midway down the stairs, a scornful look crossing his face. “So the anniversary is more important than the daughter-in-law’s first day in the house?” he mocked, his tone dripping with disdain.
Norbu kept his head bowed, wisely refraining from making any comments.
With a hum of discontent, Shuren continued his descent. Reaching the bottom, he turned to Norbu. “Take care of my wife. Familiarize her with the house,” he ordered, his voice authoritative yet composed.
Norbu nodded. “As you wish, young master.”
Satisfied, Shuren shot one last thoughtful glance up the staircase, his thoughts lingering on his bride, before striding purposefully towards the main hall.
“Oh, yes?” Suddenly, he paused. His back still facing the butler, he asked, “How many male workers do we have in the mansion?”
The butler frowned and replied, “About a dozen, sir.” Gardener, stable worker, henchmen, all were males. But why would he suddenly ask about them?
Without turning around, Shuren's cold voice sounded, “Fire them all.”
Norbu was speechless, his mouth slightly agape at the unexpected command.
