Chapter 7

The living room had a new sofa, made of leather that met Tan Zhuo's standards, in a cool-toned white. Sitting on it felt like sitting on a cloud, perfectly enveloping every inch of the body, extremely comfortable. However, at this moment, Tan Zhuo, who was sitting on it, couldn't calm down and enjoy it.

Her slender fingertips held a bright red marriage certificate, her eyelashes trembled once, then again, still in disbelief. She unconsciously murmured, "Just like that, I've become a married girl."

Suddenly, a shadow fell.

A man's long fingers effortlessly took the little book from her hand. His clear voice followed, "Married girl, it's time for the next step."

Tan Zhuo looked up in confusion, "What's the next step?"

Under the bright lights, the red silk hem of the girl's thin dress trailed from the sofa to the carpet, revealing only a pair of beautiful, delicate feet, nervously curled together. The extreme and decadent colors intertwined with the cold white. The girl, with a stunning and ostentatious appearance, had innocence hidden in her eyes, unknowingly stimulating one's nerves even more.

Chao Huaidu leisurely played with the marriage certificate, his thumb caressing the red edge, speaking unhurriedly, "Naturally... the wedding night."

Tan Zhuo felt that he wasn't playing with the marriage certificate, but with her.

She reflexively hugged her knees and curled up deep into the sofa. "In broad daylight, can't you be a little more reserved?!"

There were so many servants around!

Although no one dared to make a sound, Tan Zhuo swore they definitely heard!

Chao Huaidu: "Alright, I understand."

Tan Zhuo: "..."

She watched helplessly as Chao Huaidu handed the marriage certificate to the butler. The butler put away the marriage certificate and led the servants out. Since Chao Huaidu liked peace and quiet, they didn't live in the main villa but in the villas at the back.

"Click—"

A slight sound, and the door closed.

In the vast living room, only the two of them remained.

Chao Huaidu was never reserved in this aspect. Once the people left, he politely asked, "No one's here now, can we proceed?"

Tan Zhuo was speechless and choked: Is this what you mean by 'I understand'?

She cautiously retreated, "I think... it's not quite possible."

Chao Huaidu casually removed the perfectly tailored suit he wore for the marriage certificate photo, his fingers nonchalantly loosening his tie.

"Mrs. Chao."

"I'm not asking you, I'm informing you..."

The last four words echoed in the spacious hall.

He said, "I want to do it."

The meaning was clear.

He wanted it.

She had to comply.

This was Tan Zhuo's first time in Chao Huaidu's room. Her first impression was one of blandness, particularly bland; the three tones of black, white, and gray made her almost suspect she had suddenly gone color-blind upon entering.

She even wanted to give the room a complete makeover. However, the main concern now wasn't the room, but facing a major 'personal crisis'.

If it weren't for needing his appearance to confront Chao Jinyuan about the antique tomorrow, Tan Zhuo would never have stepped into this room tonight.

She tried reasoning with her newlywed husband in front of her, "It's not that I don't want to fulfill my marital duties. To be honest, I'm ill."

Chao Huaidu just so happened to have her health report. All the data was perfectly normal.

He placed the casually set aside report on the low cabinet in front of her.

Tan Zhuo: "..."

No wonder the butler had shown her Chao Huaidu's monthly health report the other day and had taken her for a checkup; it was all for a prenuptial checkup. He was quite meticulous.

"Actually, it's not a physical ailment, it's a psychological one—post-traumatic stress disorder, you know?"

"My body has recovered, but it left a severe psychological barrier."

Chao Huaidu listened to her nonsense calmly as he opened the wardrobe, intending to take a shower first.

Whenever Tan Zhuo was nervous or scared, she would talk a lot—

"Hey, hey, hey, keep your trousers on, don't unbuckle your belt."

"I can't bear to see that thing of yours."

"Don't get hard!"

"Ah, I'm having an episode."

Chao Huaidu, bothered by her chatter, rubbed his brow, then picked up the little girl standing behind him, chattering away, with one arm and casually threw her onto the bed, following up by leaning over her.

Suddenly being picked up and tossed onto the bed, Tan Zhuo nearly curled up into a ball in fright.

The next second.

The man's long, articulated fingers effortlessly lifted her scattered silk dress, casually brushing a few strokes; unlike last time when it felt like she was soaked in a glaze of lustful pearls, this time she was so nervous she could hardly move.

Chao Huaidu's expression grew slightly colder.

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

There were still two hours until midnight.

And he didn't have much time or patience to coax her into relaxing and adjusting as he had last time.

Ten minutes later.

Tan Zhuo patted her little heart in relief, sitting at the foot of the bed, gazing at the brightly lit bathroom.

She was scared to death.

Her life was finally spared.

With a tough battle ahead tomorrow, she definitely couldn't afford to lose a 'fight' in bed tonight and ruin her momentum for tomorrow! Luckily, Chao Huaidu realized she truly wasn't feeling it and didn't force himself upon her.

He could barely be considered a gentleman.

Tan Zhuo naively thought she was safe tonight.

So she didn't rush to run away, planning to wait until he came out and ask him in detail about that Mr. Yuan and what exactly was going on with the 'genuine antique' in the hands of his old man.

Meanwhile, in the brightly lit bathroom.

The foggy full-length mirror reflected the man's strong, upright figure; broad shoulders, a narrow waist, long legs, perfectly proportioned with a strong sexual tension.

Strangely, his upper body and arms were wrapped in white satin ribbons.

Until cold water poured down, soaking through the satin, revealing the muscular texture beneath. Slowly, mysterious script tattoos began to emerge, winding from his shoulders and neck to his waist, chest, and around his back—a complex chain of ancient text forming a series of bizarre script chains, encircling him layer upon layer.

Before long, the room felt like an ice cellar.

But the cold water wasn't helping much.

Chao Huaidu's handsome, deep face was shrouded in darkness at this moment.

Five minutes later.

He turned off the shower.

His indifferent voice tinged with an irritable hoarseness, "Tan Zhuo, come here."

Tan Zhuo, on the other side, was contemplating if she should do something nice in some other way.

Like blow-drying his hair?

Applying some hair oil?

Or maybe... yes, maybe putting on a facial mask for him?

She's quite good at it!

Lost in her brainstorming, she suddenly heard Chao Huaidu call her name; it seemed like this was the first time he had seriously called her name.

Tan Zhuo, puzzled, approached the bathroom. "You didn't bring your robe?"

"In which cabinet is it? Should I get it for you..." she trailed off.

Before she could finish, a hand, chilled with water, grabbed her from outside and pulled her in.

"Hey, you..."

Tan Zhuo, caught off guard, stumbled and nearly fell.

Only then did she realize he had showered without hot water; the entire bathroom was freezing, and she shivered.

Her chin lifted slightly as she was about to lose her temper.

Aside from fear, there was something else in her peach blossom eyes—astonishment. This is—

The man's satin wraps were loose on his distinctly defined skin, and chain-like script tattoos faintly appeared, the tiny characters intricately resembling ancient Sanskrit.

Under the bright lights, she stared in disbelief at Chao Huaidu's body, which exuded a mix of divinity and depravity. Her lips slightly parted, unaware even as water droplets rolled into her mouth.

That morning, when she had inadvertently seen the satin ribbons wrapped around Chao Huaidu's robe, it wasn't her imagination.

They were there to cover these tattoos.

Chao Huaidu had expected her to be scared or want to run upon seeing the tattoos on his body.

But he hadn't expected this.

She was not only stunned but even wanted to reach out and touch them.

Chao Huaidu's slightly cool fingertips pressed firmly against her soft, pink lips.

In the enclosed space, he slowly uttered three deep, unyielding words:

"Suck it out."

It took several seconds for Tan Zhuo's brain to process and grasp the dangerous storm underlying his words. She snapped out of the research-worthy daze over the script tattoos, shaking her head repeatedly, "It might have mutated."

"So, I-I-I-I-I might not be able to..."

She was so scared she wanted to close her eyes, but worried that this man, so shamelessly honest in this regard, might come right at her. Her eyelashes fluttered chaotically, but she dared not shut them.

Everything was clearly visible.

Chaohuai Du slowly pressed down on her slender shoulders. His amber eyes were lofty and clear, but when he lowered his gaze, the corners of his eyes slightly drooped. 

The light cast elongated shadows, adding an air of captivating eeriness, drawing people uncontrollably into a mysterious vortex. 

His low voice seemed to be enchanting: "Try it." 

Tan Zhuo tilted her head up, as if bewitched, and instinctively leaned closer. 

The girl's wet black hair clung to her snow-white back, and because it was so long, the ends trailed across the porcelain floor, swaying lightly as if painting an ink wash on the ground. 

The already soaked white satin ribbon cascaded down the man's perfectly toned body like flowing water, slowly falling to the ground in sections, messily piling up at the equally soaked ends of the girl's hair. 

Finally. 

The room was filled with the sound of the girl coughing with a sobbing tone: "Cough... Can I, can I study the patterns on your body?" 

The ancient books she was currently examining happened to contain similar Sanskrit scripts; she was really eager to research them. 

Chaohuai Du whispered in her ear: "Of course..." 

"Not allowed." 

\- 

One hour later. 

In her own room. 

Tan Zhuo sat at her vanity, staring at the excessively flamboyant and vibrant face in the mirror. She applied ointment to her unnaturally red lips, visibly displeased. 

Her fingertips occasionally brushed against tiny cuts on her chapped skin. 

Touching them. 

It hurt. 

The man's gentle and composed voice came from behind: "Need some help?" 

Tan Zhuo glanced at him coolly through the mirror. 

Chaohuai Du had already changed into impeccably fitting loungewear, soft white fabric, quietly standing behind her, exuding the aura of a refined and noble gentleman. 

But in truth, he was just a sanctimonious hypocrite! 

The young girl huffed indignantly, "Don't pretend to be nice!" 

Her throat was so swollen that her words carried no real sting. 

Chaohuai Du showed a bit of patience for the flower he had just tended with his own hands. 

He tapped his long fingers lightly on the table, gesturing for her to look toward the corner, "Don't you like the roses your husband gave you?" 

Tan Zhuo instinctively looked over, her gaze pausing slightly. 

In a seemingly minimalist sweet white porcelain vase were a few special champagne-like roses, layered and elegant. She immediately recognized them as a custom breed, unmatched anywhere in the world. 

Both the vase and the flowers were unique. 

Tan Zhuo liked them. 

But she wasn't so easily placated, maintaining a cold expression, "I also like the jewelry, jade, haute couture dresses, and limited-edition bags that my husband gives me..." 

"Will you still give them to me?" 

"Of course." 

The man responded without hesitation, somewhat like a foolish emperor captivated by his consort's smile, blinded by desire. 

Tan Zhuo's expression softened a bit, and she asked again, "Then I also like the scriptures tattooed on your body. Can you let me copy them to study?" 

Chaohuai Du: "No." 

Tan Zhuo's face fell. 

What a foolish emperor, my foot.