Chapter 2: Destroying the Painting
875 Words
The two stood less than two meters apart.
Duan Xiuming did not look at her. Instead, his gaze was fixed unwaveringly on the painting.
It was an exquisite recreation of a wedding scene—the groom kissing the bride as they embraced beneath a shower of pink petals.
But...
There was an extra stroke.
Amidst the soft blush of romance, a jarring splash of crimson had been painted—a blood-red skull, bold and grotesque.
It looked alive, as if it might leap out of the canvas and sink its teeth into reality.
It tore through the sentimentality with horror and gore.
The power behind that stroke was breathtaking—so forceful, so magnetic, it branded itself into memory at first glance.
It spread—flooded—obliterated!
The paint was still wet, its vermilion trails bleeding downward.
The entire wedding backdrop lay in ruins.
Duan Xiuming stared at the painting, captivated. His eyes shifted to the floor, where she had flung the red paintbrush.
He looked back at her.
"Beautiful."
The word escaped him, a gasp of genuine admiration—not for her appearance, but her soul.
A soul that endured in daylight and struck mercilessly in the dark.
She met his gaze with calm indifference, utterly unfazed by being caught, her eyes steady as they studied his face.
"Single?" she asked.
Duan Xiuming raised a brow. “Yes.”
Her gaze dropped to his chest. She paused.
Then, he heard her say:
“Wanna sleep together?”
For a moment, Duan Xiuming wondered if he had misheard her.
Surrounded by the destruction of that vivid, crimson skull, he sensed the dissonance in this woman.
She wore a conservative, ill-fitting qipao, her posture graceful, her profile turned with poise.
Her lips curled in a subtle smile—reserved, composed.
But her eyes…
They were razor sharp.
And within them—a glint of hidden fire.
Like a blade forged in flame and trapped beneath ice.
“No? Then forget it.” With that, she turned and walked away.
Duan Xiuming watched as she opened the door and left.
...?
He tugged at the collar of his robe, followed slowly behind.
He needed time to process.
Not just her words, but something else, something small but striking.
He clearly remembered—she had painted with her right hand, but had thrown the brush with her left.
As he stepped into the corridor, he saw her approaching a handsome young staff member.
She was about to speak—
!
Duan Xiuming strode forward in haste, pulling her into his arms before she could do something insane.
He didn’t even use much force, but her wrist reddened instantly.
She showed no reaction, only looked up at him with emotionless calm.
He scanned her face and figure and sneered, “Fine. Let’s sleep.”
If he were to sleep with someone, it would be the most beautiful one.
With that, he dragged Lu Mingyu away.
…
Soon after—
The private room.
A crowd burst in, only to erupt in a chorus of screams.
“Ahhh!!! Who destroyed this painting?!”
“What a shame! It was stunning!”
“That skull is terrifying! Some kind of vandalism?!”
“Damn it, where is that woman?! She upstaged my wedding, and now she’s gone without letting me inspect the work?! She’s the reason it got ruined!”
“Lu Qian-jie, wasn’t it you who forced her to wear that ill-fitting outfit?”
“Shut up!”
“By the way, who is she? She’s breathtaking…”
“I said shut up!!”
…
Deep within the hotel grounds, tucked in a secluded garden suite—
Lu Mingyu was lifted effortlessly by the man’s single arm and thrown onto the bed.
He ripped open the buttons of her qipao with no hint of tenderness.
Yet, at the most crucial moment, he reached out and turned off the lights.
Then frowned.
Something didn’t feel right…
He turned the lights back on and glanced at her.
“Your first time?” he asked, surprised.
Lu Mingyu smiled faintly. “Does it matter?”
Duan Xiuming stared at the stunning face inches from his own. “Are you insane?”
Lu Mingyu: “No.”
He frowned. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Lu Mingyu: “There’s nothing worth saying.”
Duan Xiuming: “If I had known, I wouldn’t have been so rough.”
He had assumed…
Lu Mingyu said quietly, “What difference does it make?”
Duan Xiuming studied her face. “What’s wrong with you? Are you mentally sound?”
Beautiful—absolutely—but clearly unstable?
Lu Mingyu: “Perfectly sane. Shall we continue?”
He fell silent, avoiding her gaze.
It was too late for explanations now.
He turned off the lights again.
And began—this time, from the beginning.
Lu Mingyu laughed softly. “You’re so gentle in bed. Doesn’t suit your image.”
He exuded such dominance, so powerful he seemed capable of crushing her with a single blow.
A predator, through and through.
But just moments ago, he had become remarkably gentle.
Duan Xiuming didn’t answer right away. After a long silence—
“I’ve never slept with anyone before.”
- Writer
