The Ruthless Game

chapte 2:The red stain

​Mo Yan stared down at me, his jaw clenched tightly. "Rule number one," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "Do not touch anything in this house. Understand?"

​I looked up at his serious, intimidating face, blinked innocently, and let out a bright smile.

​"Okey-dokey!" I replied in my most cheerful, childish tone.

​An instant flash of annoyance and pure irritation crossed his handsome face. He stepped closer, his shadow completely covering me. "Do not reply to me like that. Reply properly. I demand respect in my house."

​I rolled my eyes playfully. "Fine. Ok, sir." I looked around the massive hallway. "Now, where is my room?"

​Mo Yan took a deep breath, clearly trying to control his rising temper. He pointed a long finger down the corridor. "At the end of the hall to the right. The door is solid black with a golden knob. Go."

​"Got it!"

​Turning on my heel, I began walking backward toward the hallway, flashing him a dramatic, playful wave. "See you later, hubby!"

​Thud.

​Distracted by my own teasing, my back slammed hard into a decorative wooden wall panel. The impact shook the frame, and with a soft rustle, a tightly rolled cylinder of thick paper slipped out from a hidden gap and clattered onto the marble floor.

​"Oops," I muttered, instantly bending down to pick it up. Curiosity took over, and I began to unroll the edges to see what was hidden inside.

​Before I could even read a single word, a cold, powerful hand clamped around my wrist.

​His grip was incredibly tight—completely locking me in place—but he didn't squeeze hard enough to hurt me. I looked up, freezing at the sheer darkness in Mo Yan's eyes. He was standing right over me, his breathing heavy.

​"I warned you not to touch anything," he whispered, his voice sending a sudden, icy shiver straight down my spine. "Do not look at things that have the power to take your life, Song Ge."

​My breath hitched. But as his fingers dragged the paper away from my grasp, the rolled sheet flipped open just a fraction more.

​Right there, smeared across the white texture of the hidden document, was a deep, dark crimson smear.

​Fresh blood!