Chapter 33: Filling the Void “Zhao Jichuan, I actually really like…

The man’s civilized facade was completely stripped away, revealing his most primal desires and ugliest instincts. His eyes blazed with lust, and his tongue continued to flick and tease.

Han Rao trembled, her hands losing their freedom. With nothing to grasp onto, she could only clench her fists and then open her hands to try and gain leverage.

She heard his words and suddenly opened her eyes, staring blankly at the stark white ceiling. She even ignored the movements of his hands, quietly processing the meaning of his words.

She didn’t know whether she should feel a little proud or a little disappointed.

She believed that the man above her had never exposed such a crude, extreme, and wild side of himself to anyone else. His indulgence and honesty were unique to her.

But then her heart constricted, almost stopping. He was gently sucking on her sensitive skin, and her whole heart felt swollen and sore. He directly denied caring for her, attributing some of his actions to wanting to make love to her.

The implication, she could roughly understand, was that he loved her body, but not her.

Han Rao felt dazed, the overhead light was particularly blinding, making her eyes feel like they would go blind, so she closed them. But while she was vaguely pondering the meaning of his words, her nightgown had already bunched up around her waist.

The evening breeze slipped in through the window, and Han Rao felt a chill all over, the wind making her feel as if she had fallen into an ice cellar. But the man’s kiss! It was fiery, scorching, as if it wanted to burn every cell in her body.

The clash of hot and cold left Han Rao in agony.

She tried to push him away, but as she exerted force, she remembered that her hands had long since lost their freedom.

“Let go of me! You bastard!”

She thought of resisting again, and cursed him at the top of her lungs. Mercilessly.

She didn’t want to be a lamb to the slaughter at all.

Zhao Jichuan kissed her lips, swallowing her words into his mouth, while restraining her hands, pressing them above her head and holding them.

The disparity in strength between men and women was too great. Han Rao’s resistance was ineffective, and he even aroused her to the point where her knees buckled.

She thought the latter half of what he said was probably true.

He really wanted to kill her.

One moment he’d make her feel like she was in heaven, the next he’d drag her down to hell.

Only when both of them were breathless did Zhao Jichuan end the long kiss. He touched her flushed little face. Han Rao noticed his movement and opened her eyes again, which were misty, making it impossible for her to even see his face clearly.

Zhao Jichuan got up directly. With the first time being unfamiliar and the second time being familiar, he found a silver-packaged item in the second drawer by the bed.

He finished everything and approached her again, with a strong, undeniable predatory aura.

It was like a caress, yet also like a punishment.

Han Rao closed her eyes, and the overflowing tears dripped from the corners of her eyes, falling onto the light blue bedsheet and blooming like a flower.

Zhao Jichuan kissed away the tears from the corners of her eyes, tenderly to an extreme, yet his actions formed a stark contrast.

He pinched her little face, his hands massaging her as he asked hoarsely, “Does it feel good? Do you like it? Do you still dare to not answer my calls and disappear?”

She said, “Never again.”

He avoided answering the first two questions.

She was deliberately going against him, stubbornly refusing to do what he wanted.

She had a temper too; why was she the one whose hands were tied?

Logically, his nature is more malicious, so why isn’t he the one tied up?

He said he didn’t care about her, so why ask her if she liked it or if she was comfortable?

She liked it; it was comfortable.

But she just didn’t want to admit it.

Zhao Jichuan seemed to be able to read her mind. He grabbed her wrist, pulled her up, and held her in his arms. He called her, “Raorao.”

Han Rao was a little dazed, burying her head on his shoulder, her toes curled together.

“Is that what your family calls you?” he suddenly asked.

Han Rao wanted to shake her head, but in the end, she nodded in agreement.

Actually, Xu Lianqiu and Su Zhiyu still preferred to call her “Yingying” or “A-Ying.” If it hadn’t been such a hassle to change her name when she started school, she might very well be called “Han Ying” now.

Han Rao was too lazy to explain all this to him, and she didn’t want him to get too involved with her family, so she simply lied. Anyway, he didn’t know the truth, nor would he have the chance to know it.

Zhao Jichuan seemed to really like this repeated-character endearment, gently biting her earlobe and repeatedly calling her “Raorao.”

Perhaps he had called it too many times, but she found the name surprisingly easy to say.

She used to think the character “Rao” was awkward to pronounce.

Han Rao’s mind raced, and she felt her strength drain away, allowing him to carry her through a tumultuous upheaval. She lay on top of him, her head resting on his chest.

Perhaps her body was too pleased, feeling completely clear, and even her heart gradually became lucid.

In that instant, she felt that perhaps whether she worried or cared about such matters was no longer important. Her relationship with Zhao Jichuan was originally one of mutual benefit and self-interest; no one had the right to demand too much from the other.

All that matters is feeling good.

Moreover, she discovered that Zhao Jichuan possessed a unique value for her. He could pull her out of character, whether during lovemaking or daily interactions. His presence constantly reminded her that this was real life, not acting. She was experiencing her own life, not the life of some character.

A long time later, someone asked Han Rao what event, action, or words truly made her fall in love with Zhao Jichuan. She thought for a long time, then shook her head and said it was none of those. She said she loved Zhao Jichuan for a feeling—a feeling of both pain and infatuation—because this feeling allowed her to step out of the play.

Han Rao’s breathing gradually became erratic. Her hands awkwardly pressed against his chest, and she pushed him forcefully.

“Zhao Jichuan, can you let go of me?”

She looked directly into his eyes and whispered, “I want to hug you.”

Zhao Jichuan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his heart melting into a puddle. Almost without thinking, he unbuckled his belt and, while doing so, massaged her wrist.

He didn’t tie it too tightly, but her skin was delicate, and there were still marks on her wrists, a faint pink, as beautiful as her own color, but it would probably take a while to fade.

Han Rao’s hands, now free, immediately wrapped around his neck, and she lowered her head to kiss his lips.

She liked holding him like this, their burning skin pressed together, giving her a sense of security. She was like a small boat drifting in the vast ocean at night, and he was the mast, able to control her direction and even decide her life or death.

Zhao Jichuan ran his hand through her hair, their sweat mingling together. He affectionately kissed her cheek, forehead, and neck, then asked her, “Do you like it?”

He always stubbornly insisted on certain issues for no reason.

Han Rao still refused to answer.

Do you like it?

What is it that you like or dislike?

Him?

Or the act of making love with him?

Zhao Jichuan chuckled, watching her lick her lips and squint at him.

Zhao Jichuan grabbed her hands, which had regained their freedom, and pulled them down.

“Do you feel me?”

The temperature of his palm was exceptionally high, so hot that she wanted to pull away, but he wouldn’t allow it.

He had always been this overbearing, even if it meant breaking the casserole to get to the bottom of it, he would force her to obey.

It was very clear, very obvious.

Whether inside or outside.

Han Rao bit his shoulder

Learning from his domineering and unreasonable bite, she bit down hard, as if she wouldn’t stop until she saw blood.

It took her more than ten seconds to gradually come back to her senses. Her teeth slowly loosened, revealing a deep ring of teeth marks on his shoulder. It seemed that with just a little more force, it could have drawn blood.

“Does it hurt?” She touched it with her hand, cursing him inwardly. If he hadn’t been so forceful, she wouldn’t have been so forceful either.

“It doesn’t hurt, you’re not allowed to say it hurts.” She clamped her hand over his mouth, utterly domineering, not letting him say it hurt.

Zhao Jichuan noticed her gaze, raised his hand, and held her tightly in his arms. He clasped her hand and gently caressed her rounded fingernails. “Don’t you think you’re going too far? You make a fuss when I leave marks on you, but you bite me so hard and don’t even let me say it hurts.”

Han Rao was amused by him, and poked his shoulder with her fingertips, very tenderly.

Zhao Jichuan suddenly thought of something, picked her up, and asked, “Where’s the necklace?”

Han Rao looked down at her empty neck, realized what he was referring to, and explained, “Because I’m filming, it’s inconvenient, so I took it off and put it away.”

“Mm.” Zhao Jichuan didn’t press further, only saying, “Wear it. It suits you well.”

Han Rao didn’t speak, closing her eyes.

A moment later, she heard a rustling sound; it was Zhao Jichuan getting up to look for a cigarette.

She lay on the bed and pointed to the bookshelf next to the door. He saw a pack of women’s cigarettes and a lighter on it.

She said, “Just make do with it.”

Zhao Jichuan tapped out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and lit it with a “click” of his lighter.

He took a deep breath, then handed her the cigarette. Han Rao propped herself up on the bed and took it in her mouth.

Just like that, the two of them took turns puffing on the cigarette until it was finished.

The cigarette wasn’t strong, but Zhao Jichuan found it quite flavorful.

Just like Han Rao, he originally thought he was just lusting after her beauty and wanted to play with her feelings, but in their daily interactions, he felt her charm.

The one who finally broke the silence was Han Rao’s rumbling stomach.

She was hungry.

She had slept for too long, missing all three meals in her dreams.

Zhao Jichuan heard the sound and looked at her with a silent smile.

Han Rao pursed her lips, seemingly a little embarrassed. She raised her hand and picked up the pajamas piled at the end of the bed, putting them on. “I’m going to cook. I haven’t eaten for a long time, and I’m hungry.”

As soon as she got off the ground, she suddenly felt a bit lightheaded from insufficient blood supply to the brain, with white spots flashing before her eyes, and her legs uncooperatively buckled a little, which he happened to see.

Zhao Jichuan looked at her, beaming with satisfaction.

Han Rao stepped barefoot on the carpet and stomped her foot lightly, not wanting to deal with him. What right did the culprit have to laugh?

As she walked past him, he grabbed her wrist and said, “What do you want to eat? I’ll make it for you.”

Han Rao raised an eyebrow, “You can cook? You’re not going to blow up my kitchen, are you!”

Zhao Jichuan was too lazy to argue with her and just told her to wait.

Han Raozhen sat on the sofa and waited. She got her phone, opened the internet, and dealt with the messy messages. Most of them were from Vivi and Hu Shengnan. Vivi mainly told her about Zhao Jichuan inquiring about her whereabouts, while Hu Shengnan asked her if she could ride a horse.

Han Rao looked at Hu Shengnan’s message and vaguely guessed the type of role she would play in her next drama.

She admitted that she couldn’t ride a horse, but said that she could learn in advance.

In fact, most of the horseback riding scenes in TV shows and movies these days are done with post-production editing, with very few shot on location. After all, horseback riding scenes pose significant safety risks, and actors often don’t know how to ride. Plus, production teams are unwilling to spend time training actors in this skill.

But Han Rao didn’t want to deal with it.

Her philosophy was that directors could weigh many factors and not use live-action shooting, which she couldn’t control and could only respect. But she couldn’t not have this skill; she was extremely strict with herself. She thought that if there was a chance for live-action, she would have to seize it desperately, after all, live-action was far more impactful than post-production special effects editing, and it could better reflect the quality of a professional actor.

Hu Shengnan agreed with her idea, saying that finding a teacher to learn horse riding was also an option. After all, this skill was like driving—a lifelong ability. Even if it wasn’t needed this time, there would always be a day when it would come in handy.

Hu Shengnan told Han Rao that the company currently only has this project, which is an ancient power struggle drama, and they just bought the novel’s copyright a while ago. As for when the project will actually start, she doesn’t know and doesn’t have the final say. However, she fancies a female assassin role and thinks it’s very suitable for Han Rao. Hu Shengnan said that if the project starts, she will try her best to help Han Rao secure this role.

Han Rao thanked her, secretly determined that she would learn to ride a horse, and learn it well and skillfully.

When Zhao Jichuan came out with the bowl, Han Rao had just finished replying to messages, tossed her phone aside, and sat curled up on the sofa with her legs hugged, seemingly waiting to finish this meal before taking a shower.

Zhao Jichuan bent down and placed the bowl of noodles on the coffee table. Han Rao immediately shrank back and found a cushion to sit on the carpet.

She glanced at the bowl of plain noodles and thought to herself that it looked pretty good. So she picked up a few strands with her chopsticks, blew on them, and slurped them down.

“Delicious,” she said, her eyes wide as she looked at him.

Zhao Jichuan said, “If it’s good, eat more.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you could cook?” she asked, eating as she spoke.

If he could cook, why was he still pretending?

When he sent her to cook after the New Year, he occasionally said her cooking was lacking. Wasn’t that intentional?

Han Rao thought he was an old fox, a Zhao the Flayer.

She took another bite of noodles and decided he was an old fox who was actually a pretty good cook.

“Don’t want to say,” he said.

Han Rao openly rolled her eyes, expressing her speechlessness towards him.

Zhao Jichuan bent down and pinched her nose, “If you curse again, don’t eat.”

How could she spit out food that was already at her mouth?

Han Rao immediately protected her bowl and ate in small bites, her cheeks puffed out like a pufferfish.

He watched her finish the bowl of noodles contentedly and smiled along with her.

Actually, if it weren’t for the limited ingredients at his home, this bowl of noodles could probably have tasted even better.

Han Rao hadn’t been home for three months, and there wasn’t even a fresh vegetable leaf in the house. He searched for a long time before finding two packets of dried noodles, one of white flour and one of buckwheat.

He casually chose the buckwheat noodles, boiled water, and casually made a bowl of noodles for her.

The original intention was just for her to fill her stomach, but he didn’t expect her to actually enjoy eating it.

He thought: Not being picky is a good habit.

The bowl of noodles was quickly devoured. While Han Rao went to wash the bowl, Zhao Jichuan had already gone to take a shower before her.

Stepping into her somewhat cramped bathroom, the man looked up at her water heater, conveniently turned it on to heat the water for her, and then took a cold shower himself.

He came out after showering, took the towel she gave him, wrapped himself in it, and asked her if she had any water, as he felt a bit thirsty.

Han Rao rummaged for a while and pulled out a new cup, a pink ceramic one, which was clearly a couple’s set with the blue one she usually used.

Han Rao bought this pair of cups the last time she went to IKEA. The Kitty cat pattern on the cups was so cute that she couldn’t resist, whether it was one or a pair, she bought them all.

Because she preferred the blue one, she put the pink one away.

Han Rao looked up at Zhao Jichuan. His face was expressionless. She guessed he probably didn’t like pink either, so she pointed to the blue one, “Or you could use this? But I’ve already used it.”

“Mm.” He hummed softly, not minding, and let her go pour him a glass of water.

Zhao Jichuan sat on the sofa drinking water, while Han Rao went into the bathroom to shower. She was accustomed to brushing her teeth first, standing in front of the sink and looking at herself in the mirror as she brushed.

She looked well-nourished, her complexion particularly good, with a light pink flush on her cheeks.

As she watched, she couldn’t help but think of the character she had just finished filming.

Although she was a mistress, she, like ordinary girls, loved beauty and was accustomed to carrying a small mirror with her. That small mirror was not the kind popular in mainland China at that time, which had a picture of a beauty on the back, but rather a folding mirror similar to those used today. She had asked her cousin to bring it back from Hong Kong.

Han Rao was in a daze until the toothpaste foam in her mouth was about to overflow, and only then did she seem to wake up from a dream.

So she had already finished filming.

Han Rao lowered her head to rinse her mouth, casually wiped her mouth, and took off her clothes to prepare for a bath, only then remembering that she had forgotten to boil water beforehand.

As she looked up, she suddenly saw the red numbers on the water heater display seventy-three degrees, and she understood that Zhao Jichuan had already heated the water for her.

A sour feeling welled up in Han Rao’s heart.

She pushed open the bathroom door and saw Zhao Jichuan still sitting on the sofa

Look at your phone.

She kicked off her slippers and threw herself into his arms, sitting on his lap. “Zhao Jichuan, can we do it one more time?”

She had never made such a request.

Before, she enjoyed herself, but every time they did it, it was either at his lead or a mutual agreement. She had never asked him like this before.

Her lips were still beaded with water, and she looked down at him, full of charm.

Zhao Jichuan asked her, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, I just want to.” As she spoke, she lowered her head and forcefully kissed him.

Zhao Jichuan was a little overwhelmed by her, who was like a little wolf. He clasped her hand to his chest and questioned her, “What on earth is wrong?”

Han Rao pursed her lips and shook her head, then choked out, “I’m uncomfortable.”

She continued to ramble, and only then did he gradually realize that everything she was talking about was related to filming.

Zhao Jichuan understood her needs. His hand, separated by the silk nightgown, cupped her slender waist.

He asked her hoarsely, “Does it still hurt like this?”

She shook her head and said no.

Zhao Jichuan seemed a little helpless. He carried her back to bed, pulled open the curtains, and kissed her lips.

As he toiled, sweat dripping, he watched the moon outside the window slowly descend.

Finally, he held the exhausted woman in his arms.

Han Rao closed her eyes, feeling that the wrap-up process was the process of the character she played detaching from her soul.

She was inherently empty, needing other things to fill the void, yet she was still plagued by anxiety, always feeling like something was missing.

Until Zhao Jichuan came in, she felt that power again, that flutter, and smiled contentedly.

She knew that she was complete again, perfectly seamless, just like the moon outside the window.

Han Rao was so tired she couldn’t even lift her eyelids. Zhao Jichuan deliberately teased her, using his hand to flick her eyelashes.

Han Rao slapped his hand away, breathing softly, leaning into his arms like a lazy cat.

The room was very quiet, and the air was still mixed with an enchanting scent.

She could vaguely hear his heartbeat and breathing.

Zhao Jichuan stroked her hair and asked if she wanted to take a shower before sleeping, saying it would be more comfortable.

Han Rao didn’t move, not even lifting her arm.

She was truly too tired. She snuggled into his arms, wrapped her hand around his waist, and remained still, her breathing gradually evening out.

After a while, Zhao Jichuan felt that she was probably asleep and tried to pull his hand away, but she held it tightly.

She said, “Don’t go.”

Zhao Jichuan gently pinched her face, as if teasing, “You won’t let me leave even when you’re asleep? Or were you not asleep at all?”

He and she were very close. He heard her say, out of breath and irrelevantly, “Zhao Jichuan, I really like you.”

With a “boom,” the man felt the inch of glacier sealed in his heart collapse.

Completely collapsed.