16
I sat rigidly in place, watching him as he was about to leave the ballroom.
“Mr. Turner.”
My gaze slowly traveled down his tall, straight back.
It finally came to rest on his left wrist.
Compared with five years ago, there was now a string of sandalwood beads there.
They covered that old bite mark perfectly.
For some reason, I remembered something from so long ago that I’d nearly forgotten it.
A boy surfaced in my now-fuzzy memories.
His fair face was dirty, and the once-crisp suit he wore was already rumpled and wrinkled.
But his eyes were still arrogant and defiant.
He shoved me away again and again with all his strength.
“You’re awful. You liar.”
“You’re all bad people!”
“I’m not going with you. My mom says the prettier a woman is, the more likely she is to trick people!”
The last time he shoved me away,
I angrily opened my mouth and bit down hard on his wrist.
My mouth filled with blood.
I spat it out fiercely and glared at him:
“If you don’t come with me tonight, they’ll sell you into the mountains tomorrow. You’ll never get home!”
Clutching his bleeding wrist, he stared hard at me.
I ignored him and turned to head up the mountain.
A little while later, he followed.
That night, the moon was huge, lighting our way all the same.
I led him over a mountain and stopped.
“Follow that road straight ahead, and you’ll reach town.”
“Don’t call the police. Call your family, then hide and wait for them to come find you.”
“What about you?”
“I have to go back.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“I’m not going with you.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t remember where my home is, or what my family looks like.”
“Come home with me. You can stay with me from now on.”
I looked at him. He was completely serious.
But I still shook my head. “I can’t go.”
“If I don’t go back, all those girls will suffer too.”
“But if you go back and let me escape, they’ll beat you…”
I waved a hand and tried to give him a bright smile. “I’m used to getting beaten. I’m not afraid of the pain.”
“Why are you letting me go?”
“You’re so handsome. Your parents would be heartbroken if they lost you.”
With that, I urged him onward. “Go. Don’t waste any more time.”
“What’s your name? Once I get home, I’ll send someone to rescue you.”
“I don’t have a name.”
He furrowed his brow and thought for a moment. “Then keep this. I’ll come find you someday.”
He pulled the small silver lock from around his neck and pressed it into my hand.
“Keep it safe. You have to wait for me.”
“I’ll get you out of here.”
“You have to wait for me.”
17
Jordan Turner turned to look at me, waiting for me to speak.
The memory and the present overlapped, then quickly blurred into indistinctness.
So many years had passed that I could no longer remember what that teenage boy looked like.
The silver lock had later been stolen—or maybe I’d simply lost it.
I’d been so young then, and beaten so many times. I couldn’t remember clearly anymore.
A faint bite mark couldn’t prove anything.
Some dreams only need to be dreamed once.
How could I hope for a second chance?
I suddenly gave a self-mocking little laugh.
“Mr. Turner, could I ask you to let me go home and make arrangements for my daughter?”
“Once I’ve made sure my daughter is taken care of, you can kill me or tear me apart. Do whatever you want.”
“Ava Walker.”
“I’ll give you one chance.”
“What chance?”
“If you can satisfy me, I’ll let you go home and reunite with your daughter.”
“Mr. Turner?” I could hardly believe it.
His eyes were just like they had been five years ago, when he said he wanted to take me with him and have me stay by his side.
For some reason, when Jordan Turner met my gaze, his expression seemed to soften for an instant.
But just as quickly, his usual coldness returned.
“Ten days. If you can satisfy me.”
“Ava Walker, I’ll spare you one more time.”
18
Jordan Turner seemed to still prefer calling me Ava Walker.
That night, he pinned me down on the bed.
He gripped my chin and forced me to go along with his deep kiss.
He kissed me hard and deep.
His hands grew even rougher.
I remembered our first night together.
He had patiently waited for me to accept him.
But tonight was different.
It was as if he wanted to see me hurt, to see me cry.
His lips and teeth rubbed the tiny red mole raw.
A ring of faint, blood-red bite marks—striking and almost terrifying.
I could barely breathe, yet I found another kind of pleasure.
My nails scratched bloody marks across his shoulders, back, and stomach.
The long night seemed to have no end.
Until a faint glimmer of sunlight appeared beyond the window.
My throat had long since gone hoarse; I couldn’t call out his name.
All I could do was look at him through tear-filled eyes, wounded and aggrieved.
At last, Jordan Turner was satisfied. He pulled away and paid me no mind.
He casually grabbed his pajamas and a pack of cigarettes, then went out onto the balcony to smoke.
He was gone for a long time. Unable to hold out any longer, I fell asleep.
When I opened my eyes the next day, it was nearly noon.
I got up and went to the bathroom to wash.
When I saw my face and body reflected in the mirror, I couldn’t help staring.
For the first time in five years, I saw myself looking so radiant all over.
Like a lotus flower, thoroughly refreshed by the rain.
It was just that the more alluring and dewy my face looked,
the more my body made you “not want to look.”
And my chest, waist, and hips were covered in the chaotic marks of his fingers.
Nothing had changed from five years ago.
These were still what he liked best.
Thinking about it, pleasing him didn’t seem all that difficult.
19
The maid told me Jordan Turner was in the study, taking care of some work.
I brought the fruit and coffee that had already been prepared upstairs.
He sat at the computer wearing a white shirt and headphones.
He seemed to be in a meeting, occasionally replying in a low voice in Cantonese or English.
I quietly set down the tray, then obediently moved off to one side.
It was the first time I’d seen him working.
The man seemed especially captivating when he was focused.
I watched him, and before long, I was completely engrossed.
Only when he took off his headphones and picked up the coffee did he look at me. “Ava Walker, the coffee’s gone cold.”
I hurried to my feet and went to make him a fresh cup.
When I came back, he seemed a little tired. He leaned back in his swivel chair and closed his eyes to rest.
I set down the coffee, went behind him, and placed my soft fingertips against his temples.
His jet-black hair brushed against my chest, making it itch a little.
I pressed harder, bringing my body a little closer to his.
Jordan Turner didn’t open his eyes. His voice sounded tired. “Thinking about it again?”
I hadn’t been looking at him that way, but he was still so handsome it made people envy him.
My fingertips slid from his temples down along the side of his face.
At last, they slipped beneath his open collar and touched his firm, hot muscles.
His hot breath, separated from me by only the thin fabric of my clothes, began to mingle with the rhythm of my heartbeat.
“Mr. Turner… I’m trying to please you.”
Jordan Turner kept his eyes closed, but his long, slender fingers pinned my hand against his shirt. “Sit on my lap.”
20
Jordan Turner’s study was done in the simplest shades of black, white, and gray.
It suited the rumors that he was cold and abstinent.
But at this moment, in this spacious study,
the atmosphere was soft, sultry, and hazy with desire.
He knew she was beautiful by nature, with an even more beautiful figure.
If that hadn’t been the case, he wouldn’t have let her lead him around by the nose five years ago.
But five years later, he was over thirty, and she was no longer the soft, pliant young woman she’d been back then.
But she was still seven times more beautiful than she’d been five years ago.
What threw him into such a state of confusion and desire was this:
Perhaps because she’d given birth, she was now remarkably uninhibited.
When he wanted her on top, she climbed onto him without a shred of shame.
It was like someone shaking the branches of a plum tree laden with snow.
Snow came tumbling down, revealing the tender, vivid red plum blossoms beneath.
Her voice grew louder and louder.
He had no choice but to kiss her, silencing those cries that could drive anyone wild.
In the end, the snow melted into an endless spring rain.
It nearly swallowed him whole.
Jordan Turner pushed her onto the desk, breathing heavily.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and called to him softly:
“Mr. Turner… Could I ask you for something?”
Even as she asked him for a favor, she had him wrapped around her finger.
“What is it?”
“I want to video call Isabella Turner, just for five minutes—or three…”
His long fingers clasped my calf and pushed it higher.
He bent over me, his eyes filled with desire.
“All right.”
Before I could even feel happy, the impact shattered my voice.
The papers on the desk were scattered everywhere.
Papers flew across the floor, and somehow became stained with patches of moisture.
Jordan Turner liked watching my impassive expression.
He’d never been a good man to begin with.
That was why he and she were made for each other.