Breaking the Taboo (1v2, Blood Uncle and Nephew) - Chapter 8

A villa on the mountain was hosting a bachelor party.

Druggy music, suggestive lights, the first-floor pool shimmering under the glow, girls in bikinis splashing and flirting with the men in the water.

Han Yezhen sat on a sofa by the window. Two fresh-faced models leaned against him, but his clothes were still perfectly straight.

Indigo suit, black shirt underneath, a dark gray silk pocket square in the br3ast pocket.

His fingers were clean and long; a cigarette burned between them.

His brows and eyes were cold and sharp, the lines of his face spare and clean, features deeply cut, nose high, lashes long. Just sitting there, he radiated a glacial aura thick with aggression.

Chai Wenhan came over with a drink, glanced at the two models, and said, “Not your type? No problem—your brother here can line up a dozen more. Take your pick.”

The models’ eyes clung to him. One rested her proud br3asts on his arm; the other rubbed the tip of her foot along his calf, throwing everything she had at trying to snag him.

Han Yezhen flicked Chai Wenhan a cool look and drew on his cigarette, thin lips closing around the filter. Chai Wenhan lifted a hand in quick understanding. “Alright, you two—scram.”

A few more people wandered over, and they made small talk about recent goings-on.

Shen Du came in from outside and leaned to murmur something in Han Yezhen’s ear.

Han Yezhen’s brow tightened by a hair. He lifted his hand; the cuff of his shirt showed under the jacket sleeve, exposing the expensive watch on his wrist.

He glanced at it. “At this hour and still not home?”

Shen Du nodded silently.

Han Yezhen took out his phone and tapped a few times. A window popped up: last location in a residential area, followed by a lost signal.

“Let’s go.”

He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and stood to leave. Shen Du followed.

“Where are you going?” Chai Wenhan looked surprised and tried to keep him. “Didn’t we say we’d go till dawn?”

His eye sockets were deep, his lashes long and dark, casting heavy shadows on his lids—shadows that always veiled his pupils. All his emotions hid there, like reefs under a deep sea: dangerous, depth unknowable.

“I’ve got something to do,” he said.

Once he’d decided, no one could sway him. Chai Wenhan had no idea what was up, but the man was set on leaving, so he could only let him go.

Han Yezhen cut through the crowd of indulgent men and young women and called Li Mohan. “Where are you?”

She hadn’t saved his number. The second she heard his voice, her body—soft a moment before—went rigid.

She thought for a long beat, then lied in a thin, soft voice. “I’m at evening study at school. Little Uncle, it’s late—did you need something?”

He couldn’t be bothered with nonsense. “Where are you, really?”

Her fingers tightened around the phone. He knew she was lying?

She bit her lip, gave up the fight, and told him an address.

One block before Lu Yan’s place.

She didn’t dare give him the exact address—no need to cause more trouble.

“I’ll come get you.”

He didn’t give her a chance to refuse; the line went dead.

Embarrassed, she told Lu Yan, “Teacher, I need to go.”

The heat in his bl00d hadn’t burned off yet. He looped an arm around her shoulders, reluctant. “Who was it just now?”

“My Little Uncle.”

Lu Yan knew she had no parents. In more than two years of high school, he’d only seen her uncle-in-law once, when he came for a parent meeting. He hadn’t known there was an uncle.

Since a guardian was in the picture, he couldn’t keep her. He smoothed a loose lock at her temple. “I’ll walk you out.”

“No need.” She lifted her wrist to check the time and noticed the watch screen was black. She gave a soft start. “Why isn’t my watch working?”

Seeing her tense, Lu Yan took her wrist. “Probably just dead. Take it off for me—I know someone who specializes in these.”

“Really? Thank you. My Little Uncle gave it to me; I can’t break it.”

She hurried to remove it. If Han Yezhen found out it had died after a single day, who knew what would follow.

Just mentioning him put that panicked look on her face, like he was some flood beast.

Lu Yan ruffled the crown of her head and smiled gently. “Don’t worry. I’ll take it to him right away.”

Dragging heavy steps, she left his place. In truth, she didn’t want any more contact with Han Yezhen than necessary.

She told herself that as long as they hadn’t torn the veil, they could both pretend that night had never happened.

When she got there, she saw his car.

Black as pitch, it crouched there like a beast waiting on prey, ready to swallow her once she stepped close.

She got in. Neither of them spoke.

The car was dim, and half his face was swallowed by darkness. His expression was murky, his aura only more forceful, more invasive.

She had the odd sense he was faintly angry.

“Whose house were you at?” he asked.

Her fingers curled on her lap. “A classmate’s.”

His brows pulled together, and he stayed quiet for a long time. He turned and let his gaze rest on her face, as if trying to read something there.

“If you lied just to avoid me, there’s no need.”

Her breath caught for a beat. “I wasn’t lying.”

He let out a faint nasal sound and dropped his gaze to her slim, pale wrist. Suddenly, he leaned in, voice low and slow. “Where’s the watch I gave you?”

His handsome face was right there. She didn’t dare say it had broken. Her heart tightened and went sour. She couldn’t look directly at him; her eyes hovered at the sharp line of his jaw.

“I left it at my classmate’s.”

Leaning closer, he noticed the unnatural flush on her cheeks, the red stain on her lips, the roughness of her breath. His head dipped slowly toward her.

Those excessively chiseled features magnified in her startled gaze, a pressure so strong it made her feel short of air.

Turning to stone, eyes squeezed shut, she didn’t dare move. She thought he was going to kiss her.

Only when a coolness touched her brow did she dare slit her eyes open. His forehead was pressed to hers.

She frowned at the bridge of his nose. They were so close that the slightest shift would press their lips together.

But she wouldn’t cross that forbidden inch for anything.

Her heart kicked into a sprint. The air thinned. Ambergris and a faint tobacco note—his scent—wrapped her, burrowing into her nose.

Their breaths mingled, and she didn’t even dare inhale.

“You have a fever.”

His voice was level, deep, cold.