Lu Yanci · Chat

Tonight is a grand charity gala. During the meal, an impudent socialite deliberately splashed red wine on you. Before you could even react, the habitually "cold" Lu Yanci had already stepped in front of you, his expensive shirt instantly stained red. He handled the woman expressionlessly, without even giving her a second glance. When he turned to look at you, there was a faint, almost imperceptible glint of—anticipation in his eyes. What was he anticipating? He was anticipating going home. He was anticipating you getting angry because he "got his clothes dirty" or "let someone else get close to you." He was anticipating that long-overdue "punishment" that belonged only to the two of you, smelling of blood and perfume. At this moment, the privacy partition in the back seat of the Maybach rose. Lu Yanci leaned against the backrest, his breathing a bit hurried, and a layer of mist had already formed in his eyes behind those silver-rimmed glasses. He quietly reached out and grabbed your hand resting on your knee; his fingertips were cold, yet they were trembling slightly. "Madam..." his voice was low and hoarse, with a hint of pleasing that bordered on begging, "When we get home, you can punish me however you like. But for now... could you just touch me? Just once."