Would You Like to Have a Drink

Rather than a kiss, it was more like a savage plunder.

The white-robed crown prince leaned his back against the cold desk, forced into an arching posture as someone in front of him seized his wrist and held onto his shoulder, brazenly demanding satisfaction.

Seemingly like a punishment; a wild beast tearing at its prey while seizing breath from their mouth. The scorching tongue felt like burning iron or a venomous snake with extreme heat, tracing along the edge of the jaw before probing deep within the throat—ruthlessly invading, not concealing any hints of dangerous aggression.

Only after being stunned for some time did Zong Luo finally react, anger surged inside him. He bit down fiercely.

However, Yu Beizhou didn’t even furrow his brow but instead bent closer, smiling darkly yet discontentedly, trapping the person on that small space, clinging tightly to him.

His ink black hair slid diagonally off his shoulders, ice-cold strands hooked around intricate embroidery on the placket, slipping over the delicate collarbones, entwining sensually around his white jade neck.

Red clothing intertwined with white, contrastingly beautiful colors complementing each other perfectly.

A thick scent of blood permeated between their open mouths.

With body temperature slightly higher than that of an ordinary person, crimson liquid oozed out through wounds, enveloping the usually cool-bodied Zong Luo with unfathomable warmth.

Perhaps savoring the taste of blood drove the handsome youth further mad. His face so exquisite beyond gender distinctions took on a murky expression, shrouded by alluring charm that could bewilder one’s soul.

Long lashes framed narrow phoenix eyes brimming with intense redness, casting shadows beneath lush brows reminiscent of raven feathers – far more captivating than any ghosts or spirits found elsewhere.

Large hand with distinct joints protruded from crimson cuffs, encircling past the hand resting upon the table side, then sliding upwards across the elegant curve of the white-robed prince’s nape towards the base of his skull.

The hair band just moments ago tied neatly, in the other person’s hand suddenly unraveled and the well-combed silver-white long hair was maliciously disrupted by someone, resembling stirring calm water until spread beautifully across the broad surface of the grandiose desktop — much like luxurious moonlight velvet fabric.

As for the hair band, under the explosive release of internal force at the fingertips, it completely turned into powder, scattering sandily.

It could be said to be Sima Zhao’s heart , known to everyone passing by. (TL: describe the fact that his ambition was very obvious and well known to everyone)

Zong Luo bent his knees and lifted his feet, kicking straight at the center of Yu Beizhou’s chest.

This kick was completely without restraint, accompanied by bone-chilling internal force striking straight towards the bullseye.

Crack.

Even the person pinned to the desk heard ribs breaking.

In an instant, a denser bloody smell surged forth from the depths of Yu Beizhou’s throat.

Yet he still refused to retreat, steadfastly continuing to explore Zong Luo’s mouth with increasing forcefulness despite the brutal stance.

Teeth collide with each other, and sharp tiger teeth pressed into the soft mouth cavity.

Scarlet blood dripped from the corner of their lips, reddening pale mouths and splattering droplet patterns on white garments, forming eerie flowers one after another.

In the dark pupils of his eyes, something obscure and unclear seemed to flash through, and deep down lay a raging fire, venting the pain and joy, love and hate that had traversed through two lifetimes.

Hate?
Undoubtedly, Yu Beizhou harbored hatred.

From the suffering of identity exchange, living in darkness devoid of sunlight, enduring endless pain leading to monthly bouts of illness of being neither human nor ghost.  Watching him receive countless favors, ascending high and occupying Yuchun Palace, coming and going freely in the golden Luan Hall, always gentle and courteous to everyone, steady and generous except when facing himself alone, without any pretense and unreservedly indifferent.

Yu Beizhou hated deeply day and night, unable to sleep peacefully. Desiring nothing less than drinking his blood and eating his flesh, smashing bones apart, binding chains, put in a place where only he could see, enjoying day and night.

Mine.

It is mine.

Obviously can only look at me.

Centuries worth of pent-up resentment erupted, ultimately evolving into insatiable possessiveness.

How could there be such a kiss? Who dares kiss another like this in the world?

Not even a kiss at all, rather gnawing and sucking intensively. Without reservation, pouring out those deep-seated hatred, silent fear, and anxious desires.

The cruel predator demanded recklessly.

In a fleeting instant, Zong Luo feared becoming embedded in the suffocating and hard chest before him.

Madman, this lunatic!

Zongluo was kissed by him, causing his chest to rise and fall, almost melting with this fierce kiss.

His face had shed the coldness of the Winter Mountain, the apathetic indifference and was replaced by blazing hues ignited by blood and temperatures unknown if due to anger or the scalding heat.

No matter how violently resisting or kicking away, the opponent received these actions just as silently accepting waves crashing ashore.

Beneath the placid sea lay turbulent currents, chaotic compared to any storm encountered in the world.

Zong Luo even had a premonition.

If this wasn’t a mere kiss, licks and bites might land anywhere desired.

Any hidden corner needing effort to shield, every quiver trembling underneath layers of clothes, shameful areas no stranger dared question, would all be marked and branded ferociously.

He should be infuriated, ready to explode. Yet trapped helplessly, losing consciousness because of relentless crazed passion, the soul surged and resonated.

There was a hint of inexplicable ambiguity in the air.

Pain stimulated Yu Beizhou, he stared at the abnormal flush appearing on the person opposite him. His Adam’s apple rolled twice, and something even more obscure surged in those heavy black eyes.

Perhaps impending thunderstorms, cataclysmic tsunamis awaited destruction, or primordial desire itself.

Numerous cold weapons were displayed within the expansive tent walls.

However, among them stood one recently removed from the iron furnace, cast into a burning red soldering iron. Relying on the advantage of body shape and posture, it effortlessly squeezed open, then stopping at the lifeline. Even though wrapped in a thick scabbard, it effortlessly displayed its ultimate sense of oppression with a temperature that could burn the soul.

Cool wind rushed through the camp windows, tangled ebony and snow-white locks swirling erratically.

The crown prince in white had no area to hold and could only be forced to slide downwards, facing off against this sword.
In a daze, Zong Luo even remembered the scene he saw during the Witch Sacrificial Ceremony.

Those massive ferocious beasts impaled on Imperial City quartet formation, their eyes flickering with dying light, and hot blood flowed from their wounds. Without any surprise, they would all be impaled by sharp objects unprepared, like a delicious dish presented on a predator’s table.

In a frenzy, Zong Luo grasped Zhanlu’s sword handle.

At this moment, a familiar voice suddenly came from outside the tent. “Jin Yu, are you inside?”

As light as broken jade, it was Pei Qianxue’s voice.

Not limited to Zong Luo, Yu Beizhou also heard the incoming voice.

The young man dressed in red abruptly froze his previously invasive smile just now.

Unfortunately, this prolonged kiss continued too long, allowing Zong Luo successfully draw out Zhanlu with his backhand and press the blade close to Yu Beizhou’s neck.