Chapter 81: Will You Marry Me?

How could she dare? She didn’t dare—her legs went weak instantly, and she reached out to steady herself against the glass, gathering what little strength she could. He pressed closer, enclosing her in his arms, offering her a scant support as he brought her against his chest. His breath caressed her ear, warm and slow, drifting down her slender neck. The corners of his lips lifted imperceptibly, revealing a charming dimple. With a tenderness so unexpected it startled her, he murmured, “If you ask me, I’d give up that plot of land for you—just one word from you.” His scent filled her lungs, overwhelming her will; she almost thought she was so frightened her senses were failing, that she’d misheard. Yet his hand tilted her chin upward, and in the brief moment their eyes met, she saw a plea in his gaze. She began to wonder how much of this was genuine, and how much was feigned.

But his expression gradually turned cold. He regarded her with icy eyes and, switching to a more practical tone, asked, “What will you offer to compensate my loss? Yourself?” His hand tightened beneath her chin, pinching the delicate skin hard enough to make her shudder from pain.

She stammered, voicing what she felt was the most foolish question of her life: “Will you marry me, then?”

A look of shock flickered across his face, gone in an instant. He released her chin immediately; the ring on his finger glinted, glaring in its significance. He let go, and she nearly collapsed to the floor. He gave a cold snort and declared, “Don’t even think about it! Don’t try to trap me with words—if I ever actually agreed, you’d never dare to follow through!”

Yes, he had her figured out. There would never be another person in this world who knew her so thoroughly; his familiarity was as intimate as knowing the back of his own hand. In the endless internal struggle, he often felt as though afflicted with severe muscular weakness—unable to hold on, unable to let go.

“How did I ever believe you?” she whispered. “Just a little more, and I would have believed everything. But it’s impossible, just as you don’t believe me. All the trust was exhausted four years ago.” She pushed him away, and in doing so, pushed aside her own helplessness. It was less a challenge to him than an interrogation of herself. To earn another’s trust sometimes requires giving your life, heart for heart; but to lose someone’s trust is chillingly easy—merely loving him and loving him wrongly is enough.

“You can forget about that land!” she spat, her words sharp with resentment. She refused to look up at him from the position of a supplicant, begging for forgiveness—never again.

He didn’t give her a chance to escape, just as he’d said before—there is only one chance to run, and she’d brought herself right into his hands; she had only herself to blame. He caught her arm and pressed the intercom, instructing his secretary, “Call the person in charge over there. When you get through, patch them in.”

He turned to her. “I’m not the only one who needs to hear you say this. Today I’ll make it a two-for-one deal; you can meet both buyers.” She frowned, sensing danger. His cold smile was a herald of drama yet to unfold.

Soon, the secretary connected the call. Lin Shuo pressed the speakerphone, and when a voice answered with a simple “Hello,” echoing through the vast office, Xiao Xiao felt a chill rise from her feet.

Lin Shuo was still smiling, but his tone was icy. “What a perfect game of kings who never meet. When do you plan to finish it?”

The person on the line chuckled lightly and retorted, “Why, are you anxious?”

Lin Shuo released Xiao Xiao—she no longer wanted to flee. He addressed the phone with a seemingly friendly concern, “I’m only worried you’re in a hurry. Who knows how many days the director’s chair at Shenghua will remain under your seat, Xi Min Tang?”