**Chapter 49: The Man Beneath Her Skirt**

At this moment, Qin Mang was slung over He Lingji’s shoulder as he strode confidently through the glass corridor from the terrace.

Tomorrow would be Jingzhe—the “Awakening of Insects”

—and the sky outside the hotel had already turned overcast with thick clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, slowly drawing closer until it echoed in their ears.

Qin Mang lay atop the man’s shoulder, completely unaware of any danger.

Instead, she thought back to what He Lingji had just said, her red lips curling in amusement.

She poked his back with her delicate, fair fingers and deliberately struggled, calling out, “Help! Someone’s abducting an innocent young maiden!”

He Lingji’s long legs moved steadily as he carried her out of the hotel.

“Who? Who?”

“Who’s abducting an innocent maiden?”

Not far off, Ruan Qizhuo happened to hear her faint cry for help, and his instinct to play the hero surged.

He rushed out.

And in the next second—

He locked eyes with He Lingji’s cold, stormy gaze, deep as the ocean.

His heart skipped a beat.

Reflexively, he covered his eyes.

“I didn’t see anything!”

He began retreating step by step.

Inwardly, he cursed the couple.

If they wanted to role-play, couldn’t they do it in their own room?

Anyone else would’ve thought it was a real kidnapping!

Ruan Qizhuo came fast, and retreated even faster.

“Look, isn’t that our dear little cotton-padded jacket, President He’s confidant? Why didn’t you let him join us?” Qin Mang teased, watching Ruan Qizhuo flee with his hands over his eyes.

Her lips twitched, and she casually pinched He Lingji’s arm through his suit.

Muscles of steel—

Her fingers hurt from pinching, but he didn’t even flinch.

He Lingji chuckled lowly, lips curling with icy amusement.

“And what would I keep him for?”

“To stand guard or be the cameraman?”

“Cameraman?”

Qin Mang was momentarily confused. She adjusted her position—her legs wrapping flexibly around the man’s lean waist like a koala—and looked at him suspiciously.

“An art film cameraman,” He Lingji said, adjusting her sliding body with a steady grip.

His voice was calm and cool.

“Doesn’t Mrs. He love film art?”

Qin Mang: “…”

The words *film* and *art* together instantly conjured a certain provocative foreign film that was forever etched in her memory.

Ahhh!

Without thinking, she bit He Lingji’s neck.

Couldn’t he stop being so mean?!

And who wanted to shoot *that kind* of film with him?!

Secretary Cong had already handled the aftermath and cleared the path with security, so they didn’t run into anyone else.

The faint, cool scent of ice on He Lingji’s body filled Qin Mang’s nose—a familiar scent that brought a deep sense of security.

She stopped struggling.

Her long, delicate lashes drooped, and her breathing slowly evened out.

Qin Mang had fallen asleep.

He Lingji’s expression remained calm, just as brooding as it was when he had first arrived.

Half an hour later—

A sleek black Pullman drove swiftly under the dark clouds that had swallowed the stars and moon.

The *Sky Light* had returned from overseas.

It was now docked at He Lingji’s private marina.

Lightning danced and thunder roared.

Three shimmering words spelled out in multicolored gems glowed like flames trapped in a whirlpool of darkness—dazzling and radiant.

He Lingji held the sleeping, slim figure tightly wrapped in his arms, untouched by the storm outside.

He boarded the yacht.

Just then—

A chime rang from the clock outside.

It was Jingzhe—the day life awakens.

Her birthday.

…

Rain suddenly poured down like a torrent.

The thick curtains inside sealed off time, separating the stormy world outside from the warm spring within.

Qin Mang opened her eyes in a daze.

When she saw the familiar face above her, she thought she was still in the hotel room.

She blinked slowly.

“Mmm… so sleepy—”

The cool scent of the man’s body grew stronger, carrying an unmistakable intensity.

“Aren’t you going to look at your birthday gift?”

Birthday gift?

Qin Mang’s foggy mind cleared for just a second.

Then she shut her eyes again.

Her red lips parted as she mumbled, “I’ll look tomorrow…”

Filming that reality show had been exhausting—physically and mentally.

Besides, the gift wouldn’t sprout legs and run away.

And to be honest, she already knew what it would be—jewelry, clothes, or handbags—

So predictable.

“Alright,” He Lingji said softly beside her ear.

If she didn’t want to see her gift—

“Then let’s…”

“Do something else.”

And with that—

He effortlessly picked her up again.

In his arms, Qin Mang felt like a delicate doll.

She couldn’t resist at all.

Her fair fingers clutched his strong arms, forming a stark contrast with his cold, handsome face.

…

At first, Qin Mang thought she was too tired to enjoy anything.

But in the end—

It had happened *eight times.*

And He Lingji still hadn’t found release.

She felt like she was about to dry out completely.

While he was feeding her water, she draped herself limply over his shoulder like a boneless mermaid. Her voice was soft and sleepy.

“Hubby~”

“What exactly… will it take for you to…”

Finish?

She was truly exhausted and barely staying awake.

She didn’t want to see anything.

Didn’t want to do anything.

Next time, not even his demonically seductive waist could lure her in!

He Lingji held her arm as he leaned against the headboard. His gray-blue eyes were dark and stormy, but his tone remained casual.

“Since Teacher Qin is such a good dancer, why not perform a little dance—for my enjoyment?”

Dance?

Qin Mang’s misty lashes fluttered. She was about to snap back—

But then she felt that *heat.*

Still completely untouched.

He hadn’t been joking. He had even prepared a costume.

A sheer red dress, light as a cicada’s wing, and a golden bell waist chain—perfect replicas of what she’d worn in yesterday’s show.

Qin Mang parted her lips, her eyes reflecting confusion.

“What do you mean?”

He Lingji lifted a piece of gauzy fabric with his pale fingers and slowly draped it over her snowy shoulder. His fingertip brushed the corner of her lips. He leaned in and spoke in a deep, husky voice laced with magnetism:

“Seduce me. Enchant me. Make me kneel beneath your skirt. Make me fall. Lose all reason for you.”

Just those simple words—

And Qin Mang felt her heart betray her.

Her sleepy, love-drunk eyes cleared slightly.

When she put on that costume and stood on the luxurious gold-and-silver embroidered carpet, her sheer dress cascading down, she was still in a daze.

She looked at He Lingji’s noble, restrained face.

He carried the grace of a gentleman in his bones, like a flower on a distant cliff.

He would never lose control.

Never fall.

But her mind was haunted by that one sentence—

*Make me kneel beneath your skirt. Make me fall. Lose all reason for you.*

Just imagining it—

Her heart lost its rhythm.

He Lingji, still wearing only his loose robe, slowly got out of bed.

He lifted the black velvet curtain by the window.

Revealing a magnificent, elegant cello.

Its strings shimmered with a cold gleam, mirroring the quiet fire in his gray-blue eyes.

He wore nothing but that robe, disheveled and casual.

Yet as he sat beside the cello, he looked perfectly at home.

Inside the lavishly dark yacht—

The mellow cello melody unfurled, wrapping the space in a seductive allure.

Just like He Lingji himself.

Irresistible.

Mind-numbing.

Indeed.

She wanted him to fall…

But in the end, she was the one who fell.

The sound of music stopped. The man put down his guitar. His long fingers loosened the silk ribbon tied loosely around his waist. His voice deepened, now even more hoarse: “Come here.”

Qin Mang stood in place. She couldn’t remember any dance steps. She instinctively followed his words, step by step— “Walking straight into the trap.”

The next day, when Qin Mang woke up, it wasn’t in a hotel. The curtains hadn’t been opened, and the room was dim. She groggily tried to sit up. A few seconds later, she expressionlessly collapsed back down. She wanted to punch the bed, but her wrist was weak. She wanted to curse, but her throat hurt.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of light through the window. It was clear the sun had already risen. Qin Mang finally found her phone and tried to check the time.

Just then, a call from Meng Ting came through.

It wasn’t exactly coincidental. Since six o’clock, Meng Ting had called countless times, almost ready to call the police. When she finally answered, he let out a sigh of relief and then immediately asked:

“Miss, you had a shoot this morning, where did you go?!”

“Stay the night.”

Qin Mang’s voice was hoarse, and it took a moment before she spoke.

Meng Ting paused for a second. He pondered her words. Wait a minute? A night… lost in passion?

Suddenly, his eyes widened.

“Did you go for a hookup?”

No, no. No way. A hookup? Her husband is He Lingji! Unless she’s gone crazy and doesn’t want to live anymore, she wouldn’t be doing such things. Meng Ting tried to calm himself: “Did Mr. He come to find you?”

“To celebrate your birthday?”

Qin Mang, her body soft and graceful, lay back on the large waterbed, as if drained of all energy: “Let’s say that’s what it was.”

What birthday? He had sucked all her ‘energy,’

if anything, it was He Lingji celebrating his birthday. Now he might be feeling rejuvenated, back to being 18.

Meng Ting’s headache worsened. What does “let’s say that’s what it was”

mean? Is it or isn’t it?

“Were you filmed?”

“How did you leave last night?”

“When can you come back?”

Qin Mang’s eyelids were heavy, her movements sluggish. Beneath the silk blanket, her slender legs felt numb. Never mind the recording. She wasn’t sure if she could even get out of bed today.

Just as she was about to speak, a long, well-defined finger belonging to the man casually took her phone away. His voice was cold: “One week, no return.”

“Contact Cong Zhen.”

After saying that, he decisively hung up the phone.

On the other side, Meng Ting heard He Lingji’s cold, emotionless tone, and he gasped: “….”

Damn, seven days. The little ancestor wouldn’t get hurt, would she?

On the yacht, Qin Mang looked up at the man standing by the bed: “Who told you to decide for me?”

“Where do you think you’re going for a week?”

She still had work to do!

“Here.”

He Lingji, unusually not wearing a robe, instead casually showed the mysterious and intricate patterns of the Manjusri flower on his back. He was wiping his wet hair with a towel.

“Why aren’t you wearing a robe?”

Qin Mang’s gaze never left him.

“If I wear it, I’ll have to take it off.”

“?”

What the hell does that mean? She never wanted to do that again.

Qin Mang didn’t know where she found the strength, but at his words, she jumped off the bed and started walking toward the bathroom. However, He Lingji’s strong arm casually reached out, easily blocking her path. She moved to the left. His arm moved to the left to block her. She moved to the right. His arm moved to the right to block her.

It perfectly recreated the scene from last night at the banquet. Qin Mang was so angry she almost laughed. How childish was this person? He still held a grudge. He remembered it so clearly?

She was about to speak when suddenly, that long arm hooked around her waist, pulling her into his arms. The full-length mirror by the wall reflected their figures. The strength of his arm and the softness of her waist created a strange tension.

Qin Mang’s gaze sharpened, and she suddenly realized something was wrong here. The ornate European-style mirror was exquisitely carved, with chains wrapped around it in intricate patterns. But what stood out was the carvings— She leaned in to look at the fine details. It was images of human bodies intertwined in embraces. Various poses. Various angles. Bound by layers of chains. Dangerous and seductive.

Qin Mang suddenly realized, turning her head to look at the bed where they had just slept. The ornate bedposts were the same. In the dim light from the bathroom, Qin Mang lowered her eyes and noticed that even the finely woven carpet, made of golden and silver threads, was similarly designed. It was even more lifelike than the carvings. She curled her feet on the carpet, suddenly feeling like it was burning hot!

She looked up at the man who was casually and lazily holding her from behind and, incredulously, called out: “He Lingji?” He Lingji responded with a nonchalant

“Mm.”

Then he turned on the lights, letting Qin Mang see the entire place clearly— As someone raised in the information age, Qin Mang had seen her fair share of things, but today she was truly seeing something new.

In the suddenly bright light, everything was exposed. She realized just how large the place was. It almost took up the entire yacht. Yet, everything was designed in a semi-open style, with nearly everything in view.

Including— Aside from some common couple’s toys available on the market, there were also items that only appeared in ancient texts, perfectly recreated. No young master of the brothel in the lavish and indulgent past could compare to what he could play with.

Qin Mang glanced around, thinking about the lock she had given him last time. It seemed so insignificant now. The man stood within the decadent yacht, exuding the aura of a cold, noble moonlight, his demeanor composed and elegant. He said: “A birthday gift.”

Qin Mang silently pushed his arm away. She moved a few steps back. He Lingji wasn’t angry. After all, they had plenty of time.

Dangerous! Whoever wants this gift can take it. Qin Mang turned to run. Just as she was about to leave this ‘hellish place,’

she realized the door was locked.

He Lingji slowly interlocked their fingers and pressed her against the wall.

“Where are you running to?”

“Seven days of trial time.”

“We’ve only just passed… eight hours.”