Chapter 30

Wu Ying's anger flared hotter, and Asher's face turned colder by the second.

His eyes were dark as ink, watching her without yielding an inch. "I arranged everything based on your physical condition and the priority of tasks. There's no problem."

"You've scheduled me like a robot—how is that not a problem?" Wu Ying felt Asher probably didn't understand what she meant by 'cattle,' so she deliberately swapped in 'robot' for comparison.

"A robot can do it, but you can't. That's clearly your problem."

She'd never realized Asher was so sharp-tongued. Wu Ying shot back immediately: "You can do it, sure. Robots have no humanity, and clearly, neither do you."

The two clashed like needle against thread, sparks flying between their locked gazes as the living room filled with tension.

Asher stepped back, softening his tone in an attempt to reason with Wu Ying, but he'd barely started before she cut him off.

She didn't want to hear any grand lectures. He only cared about making others accept his ideas without ever explaining her side. Her thoughts and her wishes were plainly laid out right in front of him, yet he only talked about his own.

"Shut up! I don't want to hear it! You keep rattling on and on, and I can't understand a single word. Does Asher even get what I'm saying? I said I'm exhausted—shouldn't you be concerned about me first at a time like this?"

Wu Ying stepped forward and shoved him, tears starting to stream down her face. Who wanted to reason with him anyway? It just gave her a headache.

"All you think about is your damn plan. Are you a robot? Did your programming get messed up? Can you hand me the admin access so I can fix you?"

"Wu Ying, calm down."

What good would calming down do? Wu Ying didn't care. She grabbed him and kept crying. She'd genuinely been moved to grievance—her heart felt clogged and heavy, and the tears fell like raindrops without any effort at all.

Asher was at a loss before her crying, no longer minding her jabs. She clutched his hand, and her scalding tears dripped onto the back of it, a burning sensation traveling from skin to brain.

His throat tightened, and a burning ache spread through his chest.

The hand he'd kept at his side finally rose to steady her, and Wu Ying gripped his hand as if putting all her weight into it.

Her right hand seized his tightly, dragging half his body downward with hers, his heart sinking along with it.

Asher swallowed hard, stepped forward, and placed his supporting hand on her slender back. "Wu Ying, we can talk this through again—"

"Talk my ass!"

Wu Ying sniffled and cursed back, smacking his hand away with a sharp crack that echoed through the living room.

Asher withdrew his hand and stood beside her, afraid to move.

Wu Ying sobbed as she listed his crimes one by one, and Asher couldn't understand how a simple schedule she'd made for herself had somehow connected to tyranny.

At this moment, Wu Ying was indignantly denouncing him as a warmongering brute, a heartless monster...

He was a little dazed, unsure how things had spiraled to this point. Wu Ying was now nearly half-draped over his arm, her fragrant scent wafting over him as she flailed at him like a tiger.

He didn't want to dwell on how many accusations he'd been hit with. He just wanted Wu Ying to get up this instant.

The woman before him was crying with absolute sincerity, and the more she spoke, the more grievances poured out. When she hit a particularly sore spot, she reached out and pinched him. Asher stayed silent, which only made her feel worse.

When he should speak, he didn't. When he shouldn't hold onto her, he wouldn't let go.

She was genuinely tired. She enjoyed working in the flower room, but she ran into so many problems—she had no one to consult, so she had to fumble through everything on her own. And then there was this semester's coursework. She wasn't superhuman; how could she possibly manage all of it?

Why did he have to push her like this? She already hated him, and he still wouldn't stop making her miserable. Wu Ying wondered if he was deliberately picking fights just to get a divorce.

Wu Ying's legs gave out from standing so long, and she collapsed back onto the sofa. Asher, pulled along by her grip, had no choice but to sink down beside her.

Wu Ying wiped her nose on his sleeve, her eyes red, her mind full of 'evidence' that Asher wanted a divorce.

She'd cried herself out hard, and even as she gradually calmed, she couldn't help but hiccup. In the quiet room, only her sobs were distinctly audible.

Asher sat like a wooden dummy, utterly blank. If she hadn't felt the warmth of his hand, she'd have suspected he'd meditated himself into oblivion.

Wu Ying's tongue was dipped in poison, and Asher was oblivious. Only when he saw her calm down did he move his completely numb hand.

The moment he shifted, a wave of pins and needles swept through him. Asher's expression didn't change, his mind already turning to what he should say next. Before he could come up with an answer, Wu Ying beside him grabbed his hand hard and kneaded his fingers roughly, sending a sour, tingling ache shooting from his fingertips.

Asher looked up and studied her carefully. Wu Ying's eyes were red like a rabbit's, her lashes stuck together in damp clumps, her nose flushed. When she saw him looking, she rolled her eyes without hesitation.

Asher calmly took in her expression without comment, lowering his gaze to look away.

He had indeed been provoked a moment ago, but after Wu Ying's outburst, he was now as calm as still water, only thinking about how to end this disastrous 'conversation.'

Wu Ying had cried it all out and cursed him out thoroughly too. Now she felt refreshed. Seeing him silently tidying his sleeve, she leaned down and scooted closer.

Asher looked over, puzzled, his face expressionless with a hint of confusion in his eyes. His sharp phoenix eyes were half-lidded, his swordlike brows and starlike eyes enough to make anyone's heart itch.

The two stared at each other in silence, and Wu Ying's gaze fixed on his calm eyes. A sudden pang of bitterness struck her heart. She'd been sobbing her heart out—sure, she'd cursed him plenty, but he wasn't secretly enjoying the show, was he?

"What are you looking at!"

Asher paused mid-motion, offered no rebuttal, and simply looked away.

Wu Ying edged closer still, her knees on the sofa pressing intimately against his thigh as her warm breath washed over him.

Asher tensed, his eyes darkening with an unreadable haze. He didn't know what Wu Ying intended, but her indignant voice still lingered in his ears, so he forced himself not to look at her.

What was Wu Ying thinking? She didn't know either. She just felt a tickle in her chest looking at Asher. Asher was striking by nature—born with a fine face, and even wrapped in killing intent, his handsomeness was undeniable.

With his eyes lowered in thought like that, he looked quiet and captivating, casually smoothing the creases in his sleeve, spotting a stain and grimacing at it while tolerating it.

Long-limbed, he took up a huge chunk of the sofa. His black trousers traced several clean, taut lines, and his white shirt wrapped his sturdy frame snugly, buttoned all the way to the top, leaving his Adam's apple just visible, bobbing above the collar.

Wu Ying's heart began to pound. A second ago she'd been thinking about divorce, and now all she could think about was how to get close to him.

"Let's make up."

Wu Ying's voice turned soft and syrupy as she leaned into him, coaxing him sweetly. Asher's ears twitched slightly, and his deep eyes finally turned to her.

A perfectly sculpted face crafted an atmosphere of magnetic pull, half of Asher's face hidden in shadow. He gave a slow nod—this was exactly what he'd wanted, even if it had come out of nowhere.

Seeing Asher agree to reconcile, a smile tugged at Wu Ying's lips. Her rosy mouth curved softly, parting as if she wanted to say something, and Asher thought he could catch a warm, sweet breath from her lips.

Drawing closer, Asher realized it wasn't an illusion. Wu Ying was getting nearer and nearer.

Her movements weren't fast—slow, even, like a little turtle, paddling her limbs while keeping her eyes locked on him.

Asher's heart shook. He didn't know what Wu Ying was planning, his mind taut. He watched her inch closer: first her hand pressed onto his thigh, her palm's warmth seeping through the fabric to his skin; then her clothes brushed against his sleeve.

Her hair was long, wavy, and light brown, and in the light it looked just like her eyes—a clean, pure amber. Her hair was fragrant, draping softly over his chest, its scent flooding his senses.

"Then I'll kiss you."

Wu Ying said it naturally, her red lips parting as she stared at him expectantly. Her gaze was like sparks, stirring his heart into a wild tremor.

Asher suppressed the heat rising in his chest, avoiding Wu Ying's scorching gaze. His body involuntarily leaned back, his broad shoulders pressing against the sofa, brows lowered as if lost in thought.

His long fingers pinched at his sleeve, as if he hadn't yet processed what had just happened. And the woman who'd just been crying against his arm was now leaning forward, eyeing him hungrily like a predator.

Not refusing means liking it!

Wu Ying reached her conclusion. She lunged forward abruptly, pressing both hands on his firm thighs—barely registering the muscle beneath—and her lips met a patch of warmth.

Like jelly—soft and slick, a very strange sensation.

Wu Ying froze, unsure what to do next. Then Asher shifted suddenly, and the hands holding her up lost their strength, sending her crashing down onto him.

"Ow—"

Her lip throbbed with pain. Wu Ying could tell it must be bleeding.

She landed in Asher's arms, and he reached out to grip her arms, his eyes deep and murky, his piercing gaze sweeping over her face. If his facial control weren't so impeccable, Asher would have already betrayed the shock inside him.

He'd watched Wu Ying approach step by step, watched her lick her lips with covetous eyes, but when her mouth met his, he still couldn't stop his body from twitching.

Asher's large palm wrapped around her arms, unsure whether to push her away or what to do.

Wu Ying didn't give him time to ponder. With a twist of her wrist, she broke free of his grip and looped both arms around his neck, pressing herself to him again.

She wanted the kiss, and she was serious!

Wu Ying sat astride Asher, stretching her slender waist to make up for their height difference, her pale arms hugging tightly around his neck. She leaned in again, studying his face closely. Asher still wouldn't look at her, and Wu Ying nodded in satisfaction.

If Asher had been staring at her the whole time, she might not have wanted to kiss him. This was perfect.

Her pert nose slid along his lips, her gaze drawn to his bobbing Adam's apple. It was prominent, with a clear outline, and Wu Ying's eyes curved with a smile.

So he wasn't as calm as he seemed—turns out someone was hiding it deep.

Wu Ying parted her lips and lightly licked the fresh blood on his mouth, gradually deepening. Her kiss was clumsy and wild. She didn't know how to kiss; she only followed what her heart told her.

Breathing grew rapid and heavy, their breath intertwining, wandering from lips to neck in a warm, ambiguous dance. Neither of them could say who was more lost in it.

Wu Ying's heart felt full. Her waist ached from stretching, so she softened, pressing her body against his. Her curves molded perfectly to him as she slowly went pliant in his arms.