Seducing Him - Chapter 32

After Grandma’s surgery, the winter break was almost over.

By February, the snow had already melted, yet the air still carried the biting chill of early spring.

Grandma had been discharged from the hospital just last night.

As soon as Ci Yiyang got up in the morning, she went to check on her.

Grandma, who rarely slept much, had already risen before dawn and was now in Mom’s room flipping through old photos.

Seeing Yiyang enter, she beckoned, “Darling, come here.”

Yiyang walked over and sat down beside her. “Grandma, why are you looking at Mom’s photos?”

Although she hadn’t fully recovered from the surgery, Grandma’s complexion looked better as she gazed at the photographs.

Staring at them, Grandma sighed, “I must let your mother know everything’s fine now, so she won’t worry.”

After a pause, she suddenly raised her head and asked, “That boy who’s always been around you lately, where is he? I haven’t seen him since last night.”

“He had something to do, so he left first,” Yiyang replied.

Lu Jin had gotten a phone call last night and went back a day earlier than her.

“I see.” A trace of reflection appeared on Grandma’s aged face. “I wonder where he’s from. Does he take after his mother more, or his father?”

Yiyang thought for a moment, then answered, “He grew up abroad. His father’s probably American, and his mother’s Chinese… so maybe he looks more like his mom?”

But even as she said it, she wasn’t sure. Aside from having an Asian face like Lu Lan’s, his features weren’t that similar. It was possible his father was of mixed Asian heritage too, passing those genes along to him.

Grandma put the album down and smiled. “Really? Well, if he takes after his mother, then he must be good-looking. Just like my darling granddaughter.”

This wasn’t the first time Grandma had praised Lu Jin, and Yiyang was already used to it. She picked up the photos from her hand and flipped through them.

The album was filled with pictures of her mother—youthful, gentle, smiling with restrained elegance.

Her own features were very similar to her mother’s.

But in the middle, a few pages were missing.

Maybe it was just time—decades had passed, so losing a few photos wasn’t strange.

Running her fingers over the page numbers, Yiyang murmured, “I remember these were from when Mom was a student.”

“Mhm.” Grandma gazed at her lowered face, lost in thought for a moment.

Yiyang didn’t notice her expression. Looking up after finishing the album, she asked, “Grandma, what about the missing photos?”

“They got wet, mildewed. I sent them to be restored not long ago,” Grandma answered, snapping back to the present.

Yiyang returned the album, and Grandma placed it back in the drawer. “So you’re heading back to Jing City soon?”

“Yes, school starts in a few days.” Hugging her grandmother’s arm, Yiyang acted spoiled, “I’ll come visit during the next holiday. You must take care of yourself.”

Grandma laughed, patting her hand repeatedly. “Good girl. Stay for lunch before leaving.”

“Okay.” Yiyang nodded obediently.

After lunch with Hechuan and Grandma, Yiyang got into the driver’s car back to Jing City.

It was already past four in the afternoon when she arrived.

Walking into the hall, she glanced at her phone—the messages she had sent to Lu Jin were still unread.

“Has Lu Jin come back yet?” she asked Auntie.

Taking her bag and hanging it on the rack, Auntie replied, “Yes, but I haven’t seen him come downstairs today.”

Yiyang glanced up toward the domed ceiling, took off her beret, tied her hair back, and went upstairs. “Thanks, Auntie. I’ll check on him.”

She didn’t even need to guess—he’d be in the third-floor studio.

And she was right. But when she entered, he wasn’t there. Instead, she saw more and more butterflies trapped around the room, creating a grotesque, decadent beauty of death.

Not only were they pinned to the walls, but also placed on cabinets and even the floor. Some unfinished paintings still sat on the easel, with paint spilled all over the ground.

Apparently, a paint box had been knocked over. Bright colors oozed down the bottles, and some butterflies were still twitching their wings, though half their bodies were glued to the floor.

Lu Jin only used high-quality paints—not the kind with harsh odors. Instead, they gave off a strange, sweet fragrance.

Yiyang bent down, carefully pried one butterfly free from the thick paint, and set it on the table, looking around for something to clean its wings.

When she turned back, she suddenly saw him standing behind her, silent as ever.

He wore a loose snow-white sweater, splattered with red, yellow, and other paints. But instead of looking messy, he appeared detached and strangely pure in the decay.

Her heartbeat jolted wildly. She pressed a hand to her chest, unable to hold back her reproach. “Why do you always sneak up behind me like a ghost?”

Lu Jin didn’t argue. His lips curved faintly. “What are you looking for, Sister?”

She pointed at the butterfly. “Something to clean it with, maybe I can set it free.”

His gaze followed hers to the struggling butterfly. He stepped closer, leaned down, and studied it.

Yiyang saw his long lashes droop, fluttering innocently.

“It’s dying,” he concluded. “Its wings are soaked, and I pierced it with a pin. Even if it still flutters now, it’ll be dead within an hour. Better to make it into a specimen and preserve its beauty forever.”

Yiyang frowned. “If you hadn’t pierced it, would it have died?”

“Hm?” He looked up at her, his expression briefly as pure as a child’s.

“But even if I don’t kill it, it’ll die eventually. Just like people—whether or not I kill someone, they’ll still die. You and I will too. No one lives forever. Even bodies floating in formalin eventually decay.”

After Grandma’s illness, Yiyang had developed a deep resistance to the idea of death. Hearing him speak of it so bluntly made her chest tighten with discomfort.

She objected, “Even if people die, they’re not pinned under glass and turned into specimens.”

“Aren’t they?”

His pupils shifted, sweeping across the butterfly-filled room. His expression was almost reverent. “Others may not, but if you die, I’ll preserve your body. Or if I die first, I’ll have mine made into a specimen and given to—”

The sound of another paint bottle spilling cut him off.

He turned.

Her white skirt had been stained with bright red paint. She leaned against the easel, eyes trembling, stunned by his words.

“What did you just say?” Yiyang asked, uncertain if she’d misheard.

She suddenly realized how little he valued life. Even helping Grandma find a heart donor hadn’t come from kindness—it seemed more like a bored man performing a casual rescue.

So when he said he wanted “all of her,” what exactly did that mean?

Her body?

Or her corpse, preserved in formalin?

Lu Jin bent to pick up the paint box, his voice smooth and gentle. “I was teasing you. If you don’t like it, I won’t do it again.”

She watched as he neatly rearranged the spilled paints, then pulled out some wet wipes, took her hand, and carefully cleaned off the crimson smear on her fingertip.

“In the past, I liked this kind of thing because everything else was dull. But now, I’d rather talk to you… or do other things.”

He only liked butterflies because they reminded him of her. The moment of piercing them gave him a fleeting sense of satisfaction, nothing more.

Now that she stood before him, the specimens hardly mattered anymore.

“Sister.”

Somehow, he had moved close, very close. The wet wipe slipped from his hand onto the easel, then dropped to the floor.

He lowered his face until his sharp nose brushed her ear, tracing its curve softly up and down. The sweet fragrance of the studio thickened into suffocating intimacy.

“If I listen to you and stop, do I get a reward for being obedient?”

Her lashes trembled, and she widened her eyes as his tongue brushed against her, lapping like a desperate man drinking poison.

His tilted eyes shimmered with haze, as if even this faint touch brought him unbearable pleasure. His flawless face flushed with a feverish, sickly glow, like the aftermath of some inner climax.

“You…” Her mind went blank, words deserting her.

Especially when his hushed question slipped out like a sigh of ecstasy, his breath damp against her skin, sending shivers through her chest.

“A kiss, maybe?” His gaze locked onto her amber eyes, darkness devouring his reason.

Yiyang didn’t hesitate. She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his lips.

But such a fleeting touch wasn’t enough. Hunger already scorched his throat. One hand clamped the back of her neck, and he pushed her against the window, deepening the kiss, his lips moving roughly against hers.

Pinned against the sill, Yiyang was consumed by his demanding mouth, unable to swallow fast enough as he tangled her tongue with his, swallowing every drop.

In the silent studio, every sensation magnified, messy and hot as midnight. They weren’t even doing much—just kissing more fiercely—but it felt like she was being plunged into boiling water, helpless as she tilted her head back and let him take her.

Her sudden willingness ignited something inside him. He grabbed her jaw and kissed his way downward.

A muffled sound escaped her lips. Panic jolted her mind. She quickly reached out to stop him.

“Lu Jin, wait!”

“Mhm?” He lifted his reddened lids, confused, staring at her.

Right now, she was even more alluring than usual, her flushed face hazy and intoxicating as though she’d drunk wine.

So beautiful. No matter how long he looked, he couldn’t get enough.

Struggling to steady her breath, Yiyang shoved something into his hand and whispered, “Lu Jin, use this.”

He lowered his eyes.

A condom.

The packet was wrinkled all over, probably from being clenched in her fist ever since she came upstairs.

Looking back up at her, he smiled, studying her tense expression. “What’s this supposed to mean? Giving a man a condom directly isn’t exactly a good habit.”

“You don’t want it?” Her misty eyes widened, lips swollen and pressed in a tight line, her whole body trembling with nervousness.

So nervous—and yet still asking if he wanted it?

How could he possibly not? Every night’s dream was of her.

Joy surged uncontrollably in his chest. He grabbed her hand, pressing it against his abdomen, eyes curving like a sly fox, his voice both playful and twisted.

“Touch first, Sister.”