She staggered, unable to regain her footing.
She was about to hit the ground—
But at the last moment, an arm wrapped firmly around her waist, catching her.
Though she hadn’t fallen, she had once again landed in his arms.
Panic surged through Hong Ning, and for once, she didn’t care about the consequences.
In a flash, she yanked the hairpin from her hair and aimed it straight at him.
But before she could strike, Yang Zhen moved like lightning, catching her wrist in an iron grip.
His hold was unyielding, pain shooting up her arm.
With a sharp gasp, her fingers slackened, and the hairpin fell to the ground with a crisp clang.
She barely had time to react before he seized both her hands, twisting her around.
Now behind her, he pressed her firmly against one of the wooden pillars of the corridor.
She felt his hot breath against her ear, trailing lower to her neck, his lips grazing her skin.
At the same time—the sharp snap of fabric breaking.
Her sash.
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
Her cheek was pressed against the cool surface of the pillar, her arms forcibly wrapped around it, pinned in place by one of his hands.
The other hand remained firm, trapping her wrists in an unbreakable hold.
Something hard pressed against the small of her back.
Heat. Strength. Unmistakable intent.
She tensed.
And yet—there was no point in resisting anymore.
His voice came low and commanding against her ear.
“Don’t make a sound.”
Hong Ning let out a bitter smile.
Then, after a pause, came his next order—this time, laced with three parts teasing, seven parts dominance.
“Not later, either.”
Despite the haze of seduction clouding his mind, what surfaced was still his true nature—unyielding, possessive, controlling.
So he had this kind of preference, too.
Even in the worst of situations, Hong Ning almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
The garden was too large, the corridor too secluded.
It was the dead of night—who could she even call for?
Besides, he was under an enchantment, his mind clouded beyond reason.
Even if she did scream, who in this estate would dare interfere?
No one would risk ruining his pleasure.
No one would come.
Without her powers, she was utterly helpless.
And he—
The one who held her fate in his hands, the one who could take everything from her—
Was him.
His weight pressed her harder against the pillar, pinning her completely, trapping her between his body and the unyielding wood.
His hands were impatient, greedy, pulling at her waistband with growing urgency.
Yet—
The shame, the rage—they had long faded.
In their place, something far heavier settled into her chest.
Defeat.
She let her forehead rest against the pillar, eyes closing.
She no longer struggled.
Perhaps resistance itself was just another joke.
Whatever was meant to happen, would happen.
She had no power to stop it.
Then—
The unexpected.
The hand at her waist… stopped.
A moment later—
Everything behind her fell still.
A sharp intake of breath sounded near her ear, followed by the sudden release of her arm.
Freed at last, Hong Ning immediately stepped back, putting several paces between them.
She eyed him warily, watching as his gaze gradually cleared, the sharpness returning to his eyes.
The enchantment was truly broken.
She let out a long breath of relief.
Yang Zhen seemed to awaken from a dream. He looked down at himself, then at her.
His voice was sharp, commanding. “What happened?”
Hong Ning calmly adjusted her disheveled clothing. “I tried to force myself on Your Highness, robbing you of your innocence. What else?”
Mocking.
He knew she was mocking him.
His expression flickered between pale and dark, emotions warring across his face. But his breathing soon steadied.
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