The Paranoid Film Queen Doesn’t Want to Remarry - Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Yan Muyu had been running on empty for several days—film festivals, post-award banquets, endless socializing. Today, though, it was just a meal with friends, not an investor she couldn’t refuse. So after dinner, she took Xu Weishuang and left.
Her friends complained that she was a killjoy, but they couldn’t stop her. All they could do was grumble as they let her go.
They drove back home. This villa was a wedding gift from Yan Xingyue, the matriarch of the Yan family—prime real estate in the most expensive district of Yucheng.
Yan Xingyue was Yan Muyu’s grandmother and the head of the Yan family. In their family, power had always passed down through the women, and the children all carried the Yan surname.
When Yan Muyu brought Xu Weishuang home to announce their marriage, there hadn’t been any opposition. Yan Muyu wasn’t the family’s chosen successor. She had an older sister in the same generation, someone who had always been more outstanding than her peers. By the time Yan Muyu was under ten years old, her sister had already been named heir.
Whenever Yan Muyu wasn’t around, this large villa felt cold and lifeless to Xu Weishuang. Though there were housekeepers living there, she rarely spoke to them and had little interest in socializing.
Only when Yan Muyu was home did things feel warm and alive.
Like now.
As soon as Xu Weishuang stepped inside and reached to turn on the lights in the living room—before she even had time to change into her indoor slippers—Yan Muyu suddenly attacked from behind, spinning her around and pressing her firmly against the door.
“You look really beautiful today, Xiaoshuang.”
Xu Weishuang heard her whisper with a hint of laughter. One hand pinned her in place while the other flipped the lights off.
Xu Weishuang didn’t respond.
Her back was against the cold door, but behind her was Muyu’s heated, ambiguous breath.
Yan Muyu always had a distinct scent—its top notes cool and elegant, the heart notes tinged with a soft sweetness, and the base like blooming camellias, gently slipping into her senses. Before she even realized it, the fragrance had nestled deep in her chest.
Xu Weishuang recognized that perfume. She had bought the same one herself. But at this moment, she couldn’t recall its name.
Her mind was too jumbled to think—her body already weakened by the intense heat that felt like wildfire.
Yan Muyu’s teasing lips and teeth captured her completely, taking control of her body and mind.
Yan Muyu knew her too well. Even through layers of clothing, her long, slender fingers could unerringly find Xu Weishuang’s sensitive spots.
The soreness in her waist was still lingering from last night—proof of how far Yan Muyu had pushed her. So when those fingers touched her there again, Xu Weishuang shuddered involuntarily.
“Is Xiaoshuang afraid?” Yan Muyu whispered, her burning lips brushing the snowy nape of Xu Weishuang’s neck, teeth grazing as if savoring a delicacy.
Xu Weishuang’s breathing turned erratic under her touch. Her mind was a mess, but her instincts still pushed her to respond: “No, I’m not afraid.”
Her last bit of reason reminded her: if she didn’t answer, she would be punished.
“If you’re not afraid, then why are you trembling all over?”
The gentle voice came from behind again.
Yan Muyu’s tone held amusement, as though recalling something funny. Even her words carried the vibration of her chuckle.
“I’m not afraid,” Xu Weishuang repeated, trying to steady her voice.
She truly wasn’t afraid.
Yan Muyu had never done anything to frighten her.
She was dragged into the bedroom, shoved forcefully onto the bed. She stared up at Yan Muyu, eyes locked on hers—those eyes overflowing with fierce, scalding emotion.
Arrogance. Ferocity. Danger. The kind of possessiveness that could devour her whole—it was overwhelming, terrifying.
This was the real Yan Muyu.
The one hidden beneath the mask of gentleness, revealed only to her.
“Xiaoshuang needs to be punished.”
Xu Weishuang gazed up at her. In the darkness, that once-gentle face now looked threatening, even though she was still smiling. That smile sent a chill down Xu Weishuang’s spine.
But why was she being punished?
Xu Weishuang didn’t understand.
She reached up to block Yan Muyu’s descent, her eyes sharpening with confusion, stubbornly demanding an answer.
Yan Muyu, seemingly in a good mood, didn’t shut her down like usual. She even paused in response to Xu Weishuang’s resistance and explained:
“Because you lied. I never gave you those earrings.”
With that, she didn’t give Xu Weishuang any more time to react. She pinned her arms above her head and kissed her hard, without restraint.
Xu Weishuang’s limbs were completely restrained, fully under Yan Muyu’s control. No matter how much she struggled, it was useless.
Not that she would struggle—her heart had long been chained.
She could only passively endure.
Her brows furrowed slightly in pain from Yan Muyu’s aggression. She twisted uncomfortably from how tightly her hands were pinned.
But that was it.
She had long become intoxicated by this kind of treatment—because within these brazen acts, she could glimpse Yan Muyu’s possessiveness.
Those eyes, usually soft and tender to everyone, were now solely focused on her.
And this kiss—was just the beginning.
Xu Weishuang suppressed her rapid breathing, bracing herself for the punishment to come.
A soft white blindfold was placed over her eyes. Other than that faint veil of white, everything around her turned even darker.
She felt cloth tightly binding her wrists and ankles—she knew this texture and method all too well.
Yan Muyu’s presence drifted away then, her signature scent fading from Xu Weishuang’s breath.
Her face turned pale as she breathed shallowly, trying her best to appear composed.
But when she heard Yan Muyu’s footsteps leaving, she couldn’t stop herself from calling out:
“Don’t go.”
Silence was her only answer.
She had no idea whether Yan Muyu had truly left. Not long after, her tightly bound body began to squirm with growing restlessness.
She felt both cold and hot.
Her blindfolded eyes made it impossible to judge her surroundings. In darkness, the mind often breeds fear.
And then, something cold and slimy suddenly slithered down her cheek, past her neck.
Xu Weishuang flinched and cried out involuntarily.
Embarrassed, she tried to shut her lips—but something slipped into her mouth first.
Perhaps because she couldn’t see, her other senses were heightened. She immediately recognized it—Yan Muyu’s fingers.
Her fingers pressed firmly against Xu Weishuang’s upper jaw, keeping her mouth open.
They continued probing toward her throat, triggering waves of discomfort.
If it were only this, she could endure it.
But the cold, wet sensation on her skin was intensifying. Xu Weishuang didn’t know what it was—just that it kept gliding across her, instilling a growing sense of dread.
She wanted to ask, but her lips couldn’t close. She could only make muffled whimpers, unable to form words.
This was clearly intentional.
Yan Muyu had said it was a punishment—and she never let her off easy.
Xu Weishuang’s face turned even paler. Then suddenly, a horrifying thought crossed her mind.
Yan Muyu kept a pet snake. Pure white. About two fingers wide. Usually kept in a display tank. Xu Weishuang even fed it sometimes.
She wasn’t afraid of snakes—but she didn’t like them either.
Cold. Wet. Slimy.
Everything she was feeling now matched exactly.
The thought of that snake crawling on her made her want to scream. Her body began to panic and struggle uncontrollably.
Yan Muyu immediately held her down.
She shook her head desperately, and in the process, rubbed the blindfold loose. Her usually calm and aloof expression turned into one of panic.
She met Yan Muyu’s warning gaze—sharp and dangerous.
But there was no snake.
The sensation had come from a small stone toy, cooled in water.
Seeing Yan Muyu’s face again calmed Xu Weishuang instantly. In all these years, no matter how far she pushed, Yan Muyu had never truly hurt her.
Her heart sank.
She had broken the rules.
But Yan Muyu wasn’t angry. Her gaze softened with delight.
She lowered her head and bit into Xu Weishuang’s shoulder without restraint. Xu Weishuang cried out in pain as the fingers in her mouth pushed in deeper, nearly choking her.
But she no longer resisted.
From the moment they met, Xu Weishuang had known—Yan Muyu was a sick person. Always suppressing her true self, presenting a completely false image of gentleness, hiding the unbearable parts of herself.
Because she believed no one could handle the real her. No one could love her as she was.
But Xu Weishuang was sick too—she needed Yan Muyu’s unrestrained possessiveness and torment.
Yan Muyu gave her that. Her kisses burned, her bites hurt.
And in that pain, Xu Weishuang found pleasure. Her world spun, her body drowned in wave after wave of sensation.
She endured it all, until she couldn’t even breathe.