After several overcast days, clouds hung at the horizon like spilled ink. The wind blew, bringing down a few raindrops.

Gradually, the rain grew heavier, pattering loudly against the roof tiles.

Worshippers awkwardly raised their sleeves to avoid the rain, with the eaves and Buddha halls packed densely with people. Hutao and the guard came from the east and west directions, meeting up with Xue Cen.

“Did you find her?” Xue Cen couldn’t hide his concern.

Both Hutao and the guard shook their heads.

“Young Master Xue, what exactly did you say to my young lady?”

As soon as Hutao spoke, the Yu family guard beside her tugged at her sleeve, indicating that she shouldn’t speak rashly.

But Hutao was protective of her mistress and shook off the guard’s hand, continuing, “How could she be chatting fine one moment and suddenly leave the next?”

Xue Cen gripped the jade pendant he hadn’t managed to give, remembering when he had knelt before Yu Lingxi’s parents to propose marriage, and Yu Lingxi’s gentle but firm words in the courtyard: “Brother Cen is wonderful, but I have never thought of marriage.” A bitterness spread in his heart, mixed with anxiety and worry—truly a flood of emotions.

Could it be that his affection had frightened her?

But she had clearly said before that she liked gentle, scholarly men the most…

“Let’s look elsewhere,” said the guard. “The young lady’s carriage is still here, so she couldn’t have gone far.”

Hutao looked around at the temple’s high towers, frowning: In such heavy rain, where could her mistress have gone?

On the high platform in front of the temple, more than ten high monks remained motionless in the heavy rain, still closing their eyes devoutly, chanting sutras to ward off calamities.

It felt as if her bones had turned soft, roasting her until her mind was hazy.

Ning Yin had checked her pulse and fed her some bitter medicinal pill of unknown origin, but it was still useless; the drug’s effects were stacking one on top of another.

“Wei Qi.”

She looked at the young man before her, his features cold yet blurry. Although she wanted to explain, her body unconsciously clung to him as she spoke urgently and hoarsely, “I didn’t eat… anything suspicious…”

She hadn’t even drunk a sip of tea outside since leaving home today; she didn’t know where things had gone wrong.

“Mm, I know.”

Ning Yin let her lean against him, withdrawing his fingers from her pulse. “It must be residue from the previous incense.”

Yu Lingxi’s eyes reddened as she stared, biting her lip.

The previous crisis had been overcome; why would it flare up again?

Ning Yin saw her confusion and remembered an incense he had heard about in Yujie Xiandu called “Extreme Pleasure Incense,” which could make people surrender three times, unable to resist.

If what Yu Lingxi had been exposed to was this despicable incense, then the second outbreak would be far beyond what willpower alone could resist.

“Anti… antidote…”

Yu Lingxi’s broken voice escaped her lips, her unfocused eyes staring fixedly at Ning Yin as if he were the only straw she could grasp.

“There is no antidote, young lady.”

Ning Yin held her continuously slipping form, his arm pressed close. “The only antidote is…”

“Wei Qi!” Yu Lingxi closed her eyes in pain.

Ning Yin was silent for a moment, watching her cheeks burn rouge-red, his eyes also sinking deeply.

“This place is safe; no one will disturb us.”

Seeing Yu Lingxi trembling and unwilling to move, Ning Yin raised his hand to brush aside her veil, frowning slightly. “The second time, young lady, enduring it will be worse than death.”

“No,” Yu Lingxi squeezed the word through her teeth.

“Does the young lady still despise me?”

Ning Yin nodded in understanding, his voice softening: “Even if you despise me, there’s no other way. If we grabbed some random man from the roadside, we’d have to silence him afterward…”

Thinking of her childhood sweetheart Xue Cen, who wouldn’t be criticized by others, Ning Yin paused.

While Yu Lingxi was still not fully conscious, he automatically skipped this person and continued, “And since the young lady doesn’t like me killing people, this method naturally won’t work.”

“No.”

Yu Lingxi still repeated this word, her fingers twisting his collar until it turned white. “If I do this here… how would I be any different from Zhao Yuming?”

The sandalwood incense curled on the table, and the large “Buddha” character on the wall seemed like a forbidden spell.

Ning Yin’s eyes flickered slightly; sometimes he truly admired Yu Lingxi’s shyness and stubbornness.

“What does it matter if we’re in a temple meditation room?”

Ning Yin gave a short laugh. “Young lady, you now feel as if ten thousand ants are gnawing at your bones, flames of desire consuming your body, yet the Buddha sitting above remains without sorrow or joy. Has he come to save you?”

The only one by her side was this villain.

Yu Lingxi had no strength to refute. She curled up in his arms, sweat soaking through her inner garment, having already reached her limit.

Enduring for so long must be very painful, right?

How pitiful.

Ning Yin directed his gaze toward the inconspicuous blue-green floor tile under the meditation table, tapping his thigh intermittently with his finger, hesitating for a moment.

Finally, amid Yu Lingxi’s unbearable moan, he stood up, walked to the table, and forcefully stepped on that floor tile.

With the light sound of a mechanism, the meditation bed beneath Yu Lingxi rumbled open, revealing a deep, seemingly bottomless stone staircase and secret passage.

They say a cunning rabbit has three burrows; this place was Ning Yin’s final stronghold, known only to a few trusted confidants and no other living person.

If Zhejian saw him bringing a living person here, and a woman…

He would most likely think he had gone mad.

He bent down to pick up the heavily breathing Yu Lingxi, reaching out to gently pull her head closer to his chest, before stepping down the secret passage’s stone stairs one by one, until his figure was swallowed by the darkness.

Yu Lingxi’s senses were dulled; she felt as if she were floating in the clouds one moment and sinking into water the next.

Opening her eyes from the confusion, she realized it was pitch black around her, and she was no longer in the meditation room.

She didn’t know where Ning Yin was taking her; she could only hear Ning Yin’s steady breathing from above her head.

Slightly jostled in the darkness, Yu Lingxi instinctively reached out to wrap her arms around Ning Yin’s neck, greedily pressing closer. She was like a person dying of thirst who had found an oasis; every inch closer to him reduced her embarrassing heat by a fraction.

Her face pressed tightly against him, her sweet-scented, burning breath brushing across the side of Ning Yin’s neck.

Ning Yin’s footsteps faltered imperceptibly before resuming as if nothing had happened.

“We’re almost there, hold on a bit longer.” His voice was slightly hoarse, and his pace quickened.

After some time, Ning Yin stopped and placed Yu Lingxi flat on a sitting couch.

It was still very dark around them, without a trace of light, with only the faint lingering scent of long-enclosed coolness and mustiness.

Ning Yin sat on the edge of the couch, and after a moment, he leaned closer, looking at the small, raised outline on the couch, and said, “This place is no longer in the temple. The young lady can rest assured.”

Only when he got closer did he realize that Yu Lingxi was shaking severely.

It wasn’t the slight trembling of uncontrollable passion, but more like the trembling of fear.

Remembering the last time in the dark storeroom, she had also curled up, hugging her knees, her whole body shaking…

Fear of the dark?

Ning Yin thought for a moment, then rose, supporting himself with his arm.

Just as he took a step away, his wrist was seized.

Her soft, delicate palm seemed boneless, emitting an abnormal scorching heat.

Ning Yin’s mouth curved, and he patted her fingertips, saying, “The young lady fears the dark; I’m going to light a lamp.”

The hand on his wrist trembled, loosening slightly.

Ning Yin skillfully found the fire starter, and with his hands behind his back, lit the oil lamps on all four walls one by one. The firelight cast his shadow on the wall—tall, stern, like a giant beast leaping.

Once the light had driven away the cold darkness, Ning Yin extinguished the fire stick and turned to look at Yu Lingxi, who was curled up and softly moaning.

The firelight illuminated her jade-like crimson cheeks and also the striking red at the corner of her lips.

Ning Yin frowned, tossed the fire stick away, and pressed his finger against her scarlet lips, saying, “Don’t bite your lips; it’s useless.”

Her eyes were tightly closed, her teeth clenched, and Ning Yin realized that the blood wasn’t from bitten lips but was seeping from between her teeth.

If she held back any longer, she would lose her life!

Ning Yin’s gaze darkened, and he immediately gripped her chin: “Open your mouth.”

Bending down to pry open her teeth, Yu Lingxi immediately turned her head and coughed up a small amount of congested blood, like a fish out of water, leaning against Ning Yin’s chest, gasping for air.

Ning Yin’s lips were stained with bright red. He stared at her for a long while before softly laughing.

“Is the young lady willing to go to such lengths for Xue Cen?” He hooked a splendid smile, but his eyes were cold.

Yu Lingxi couldn’t hear what he was saying or what he was mocking; her vision was completely drawn to those thin lips stained with fresh blood, every inch of her skin clamoring to get closer.

Her body had already given up its stubborn resistance, but her consciousness was still struggling. Her entire being felt as if it had been forcibly torn in two, her beautiful eyes brimming with tears.

She was a woman exuding delicateness from every pore.

She was so beautiful that people forgot she was also a woman raised in the General’s mansion.

Ning Yin had never seen her cry.

But now, those beautiful almond eyes were glistening with waves of light, with traces of tears.

Ning Yin understood the determination that remained in her eyes, silent but resolute. The smile on his lips paused, gradually sinking.

In the next moment, Yu Lingxi used her last bit of strength to stab her hairpin toward her left shoulder.

Clang! The hairpin was knocked to the ground.

Ning Yin’s handsome face instantly showed a fascinating expression.

He gripped Yu Lingxi’s slender, jade-like wrist and pressed it above her head, anger seeming to surge in the depths of his icy black eyes. “The young lady values her life the most; this action is rather foolish.”

This Ning Yin seemed quite unfamiliar.

Yu Lingxi’s eyes had no focus, like a trembling flower in the wind and rain.

“Wei… Wei Qi…”

She pressed uncomfortably against his neck, her voice carrying a crying tone, seeming both aggrieved and coquettish.

Ning Yin clicked his tongue, his expression unreadable.

If it had been anyone else, even if they had merely shown an intention to touch his neck, they would have lost their lives by now.

However, he only leisurely gripped the apricot-white ribbon adorning the back of Yu Lingxi’s hair bun.

With a pull of his hand, the ribbon wrapped around his palm, and her three thousand strands of hair cascaded like a waterfall, flowing along the graceful lines of her waist.

Yu Lingxi clung to his shoulders, breathing rapidly, staring blankly as he raised his hand and blindfolded himself with that ribbon.

“In Yujie Xiandu, I heard that women need not lose their virginity to find relief and pleasure.”

Ning Yin tied the ribbon at the back of his head, turning his blindfolded face toward Yu Lingxi in his arms. “If the young lady is concerned, I will blindfold myself, neither listening, looking, nor speaking, becoming merely an object with warmth at this moment.”

The blindfolded young man was incomparably handsome, yet the blindfold couldn’t hide the wild madness in his bones.

He moved closer, following her breath, saying softly, “Use me as you wish, young lady.”

Yu Lingxi seemed to hear the sound of her consciousness snapping like a broken string.