Volume 1, Chapter 36: He Could Not Bear to Let Go

"Come with me."

Shang Linyuan did not reply. Instead, he leaned down and gripped her uninjured right wrist. His palm was searingly hot, and the calluses on his fingertips, formed from years of holding a pen, pressed into her skin with enough force to nearly crush her bones.

"Let go!"

Lu Xiaoman struggled to pull her hand back, but her cast struck the edge of the table, making her gasp in pain. The movement pulled them into sudden, jarring proximity. His leaning frame was oppressive; the scent of cedar from his suit collar, mingled with the dampness of the rain, washed over her. She could even see the tiny droplets of rain clinging to his eyelashes.

Whispers erupted around them, and someone held up a phone to secretly film. Shang Linyuan’s brow furrowed, and he simply swept her up into his arms.

"Ah!"

Lu Xiaoman let out a sharp cry, instinctively pressing her uninjured hand against his chest. Even through the fabric of his clothing, she could feel the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat. The position was far too intimate; her cheek was pressed nearly against his neck, and she could smell the faint scent of aftershave on his skin. Embarrassment surged through her like an electric current, leaving her stiff.

"Shang Linyuan, you bastard! Put me down!" Her voice was breathy and lacked any real authority.

The woman in his arms was light—so thin he could clearly feel the contours of her frame—yet she struggled like a cat with its fur standing on end. Her fingertips inadvertently brushed against his Adam's apple, sending a faint spark of irritation through him. He said nothing, carrying her straight out of the coffee shop and depositing her into the passenger seat.

The moment he closed the door, Lu Xiaoman curled into the corner, reaching for the seatbelt, but her left hand made it impossible to fasten. Shang Linyuan leaned over, his warm breath sweeping across her ear as he buckled it for her with an air of refusal to be denied.

The distance was too close. She could see her own reflection in the depths of his eyes—disheveled, stubborn, and harboring a sliver of panic she hadn't even realized was there. His gaze was profound, like the surface of a frozen lake concealing turbulent undercurrents.

"Lu Xiaoman." As he straightened up, his fingertips accidentally brushed her jaw, and both of their breaths hitched. "Do you really distrust me that much?" his voice was deep and husky.

Outside the car window, the rain fell harder, blurring the city's neon lights.

Lu Xiaoman turned her face away, watching her own distorted shadow on the glass, and remained silent. Only she knew that the brief physical contact had been like a stone dropped into stagnant water, sending ripples through her heart that she herself loathed.

The air in the car felt like congealed syrup—sweet, thick, and suffocating. Shang Linyuan’s hand still hovered near Lu Xiaoman’s arm, the warmth from their earlier struggle seeping through the fabric and burning her, causing her to flinch.

"Listen to me," Shang Linyuan said, his voice lower than usual, his knuckles turning white from the tension. "I had nothing to do with Chu Yan's affairs. Chu Yutang hitting Xiao Xi..."

"Shut up!"

Lu Xiaoman snapped her eyes toward him, the red bloodshot lines in her eyes mixing with the moisture, looking like a shattered sunset. "Shang Linyuan, do you take me for a three-year-old? The Chu siblings have been tyrannical for years; would they have lasted this long without your protection?"

She gripped the door handle and twisted it hard, but the locked latch did not budge. "Let me out!"

"The police didn't issue a verdict because it was bait." Shang Linyuan leaned forward, his knee accidentally bumping her leg. Both of their bodies went rigid. He could smell the soap scent from her hair, as clean as the air on that rainy night years ago. "Chu Yutang has someone backing him. He hit Xiao Xi as a deliberate provocation to force you..."

"Force me to do what? Force me to beg you like a dog?"

Lu Xiaoman’s voice trembled violently; her fingertips dug into her palms, turning white. "Shang Linyuan, stop making excuses for yourself."

She suddenly kicked at the car door, her high heel leaving a harsh screech against the leather seat. Shang Linyuan felt his heart tighten, terrified she might hurt herself, and reached out to stop her. As she dodged, her body tilted, and he instinctively reached out to steady her, but he miscalculated the force and pulled her directly into his arms.

The moment her warm body collided with his, a buzzing sound filled Shang Linyuan’s mind. The soft sensation against the thin fabric, the delicate skin at her waist brushing his palm like an electric shock—that familiar tremor raced up his spine to the very top of his head.

That was the feeling!

Six years ago, on that chaotic night, he had been dazed by alcohol and drugs. He only remembered the body temperature of the person in his arms, the itch of hair brushing his neck, and the heart-stopping tremor when their skin touched. Yet, when he woke up the next day, it was Chu Yan lying beside him, wrapped in his shirt. He had always felt something was wrong, but his thoughts had been scrambled by the mounting pressure from his family and Chu Yan’s weeping.

Then came Lu Xiaoman’s sudden departure. Chu Yan had told him that her best friend, Xiaoman, had found true love, was pregnant with that man’s child, and had run away with him. He hadn't wanted to believe it, so he had sought confirmation from many sources, but both at school and within the Shang family, people whispered that Lu Xiaoman had eloped. Devastated, he had spiraled into a deep depression.

His parents began urging him to marry, and Grandmother Shang, who adored him most, claimed she didn't have much time left and wanted to see a grandson-in-law soon. Chu Yan had come to him then, offering to help him deal with the pressure, provided he publicly acknowledged her as his girlfriend. He had already lost the woman he loved; it didn't matter who was by his side. Besides, if that night had indeed been Chu Yan, he owed her that much.

But now, holding Lu Xiaoman, that sense of familiarity buried deep in his blood exploded like a volcano that had been dormant for years.

Lu Xiaoman was frozen, too. The temperature of his chest pressed through her shirt, carrying the faint scent of cedar, wrapping around her with an aggressive, domineering force. His breath fell against her temple, searingly hot, reminding her of a forgotten night where the same burning heat had entwined her.

She struggled violently, but Shang Linyuan held her even tighter. Their heartbeats collided against the thin layers of fabric, frantic and distinct.

"Don't move."

Shang Linyuan’s voice was as raspy as sandpaper on wood. The skin beneath his palm was smooth and warm, gradually aligning with the tactile memory he held. He looked down at her flushed earlobes, his Adam's apple bobbing uncontrollably. "Manman..."

The moment the nickname rolled off his lips, Lu Xiaoman jerked her head up as if stung. Her nose hit his chin.

Their breaths tangled, so close that they could see their own reflections in each other's pupils, along with the same swirling shock and confusion. Outside the window, the neon lights seeped through the tinted glass, casting flickering shadows across Shang Linyuan’s sharp, angular features.

He looked at her slightly parted lips, and a detail he had ignored for six years suddenly flashed through his mind. That morning, he had seen a small, shattered jade pendant in the corner of the bed—it wasn't a style Chu Yan ever wore, but rather...

He gripped his hand tight. The person in his arms was still struggling, but he could no longer bear to let go.