Joining Tianding Group, Liu Weiwei was gifted a sleek apartment and a stylish sedan, clear signs of Song Yingfei's trust. Her salary had doubled from her previous job.
Now, Lei Zhengyang stood in that apartment, gazing at the woman on the bed. Fresh from a shower, Weiwei wore only a sheer, crimson negligee—provocatively short, exposing half her thighs and a deep, alluring cleavage. Her sultry eyes shimmered with desire, capable of igniting any man's passion with a single glance.
"Weiwei, you're sure you won't regret this?" Lei asked.
Rising from the bed, Weiwei approached, her delicate hands tracing his chest, stirring ripples like a pebble in a still lake. With a soft laugh, she teased, "Look at how perfect this moment is. Why ruin it with such dreary words? Zhengyang, am I not beautiful?"
Lying down, she exuded the lazy allure of a pampered noblewoman, but standing, she transformed into a captivating siren. Every gesture, every movement radiated beauty. This was her true essence, a charm that unveiled the most enchanting facets of her being.
"You're stunning," Lei murmured.
"Then hold this moment in your heart," she whispered. "Remember Weiwei. Remember my beauty."
Her hands slipped the thin straps off her shoulders, the negligee gliding down, revealing the curves of her breasts—rising sharply into full, rounded peaks. The gown pooled at her feet, her arms modestly shielding her chest. Only a few scraps of lace remained, their tantalizing translucence more seductive than bare skin. Lei's breathing grew heavy, his gaze clouded. He'd thought his hellish training had steeled him against temptation, but Weiwei's allure was a force he couldn't resist.
Her devotion, her perfection—they left no room for refusal.
"Zhengyang, why won't you love me?" she purred. "I'm yours. Everything I am belongs to you."
Her words unleashed something primal in him. With a beastly roar, he swept her into his arms, tossing her onto the bed. He pounced, tearing away the last shred of fabric with savage intensity, claiming her pure beauty and heartfelt love. In that moment, desire overshadowed all else.
A sharp, melodic cry of pain escaped her, her seductive poise giving way to a vulnerable, pitiable expression. Yet, this only fueled the fire of their passion.
The night deepened, but Lei's conquest was relentless. Her pleas for mercy echoed multiple times, yet the rhythm of their fervor never slowed. After a year of abstinence, his pent-up energy erupted like the Golden Dragon within him, insatiable. For Weiwei, experiencing love's bloom for the first time, it was both sweet ecstasy and a tempest of overwhelming sensation. Her consciousness drifted, like a lone boat tossed in a vast sea, carried by the waves.
At some point, the storm subsided, and the exhausted pair collapsed into a deep, entwined slumber.
The next morning, Song Yingfei stormed into Weiwei's office, only to find it empty. Weiwei was always the first to arrive, so her absence sparked unease in Yingfei's gut.
Her phone rang—Weiwei. "Yingfei, I'm sorry, I can't come in today. I'm not feeling well. Can I take another day off?"
Yingfei softened. "If you're unwell, rest. I'll handle things here. Weiwei, you sound off—have you been to a doctor? Should I come check on you?"
"No, it's fine," Weiwei replied weakly. "I'm just tired and need to rest. Thanks, Yingfei."
The call ended, but Yingfei's concern lingered. Weiwei had no family in the capital, and being sick alone in a strange city was tough. As her only friend, Yingfei felt compelled to visit. A sick friend needed care.
She drove to Weiwei's company-provided apartment, an address she'd personally chosen. Unbeknownst to her, Weiwei wasn't ill—she was caught in an unrelenting whirl of passion, pinned beneath Lei Zhengyang's insatiable desire.
Though it was her first time, Weiwei wasn't naive. As a mature woman, she understood intimacy, but Lei was a relentless force—a wild bull, demanding again and again with only brief pauses, defying her understanding of human limits.
"Zhengyang, I can't—I'm done," she gasped.
"Zhengyang, I'm really gone—I'm dying."
Lei, too, was troubled. He'd always been a playboy, but never had desire consumed him like this. The moment he claimed Weiwei, a fiery surge coursed through him, like an aphrodisiac igniting every nerve, driving him to insatiable heights. He couldn't restrain himself against her intoxicating allure.
Unknown to him, the Golden Dragon power within him had awakened, not just stirring but surging at this critical moment. Like a starved child, it devoured his energy, amplifying his desires beyond control. Each wave of passion was a quest for power, drawing on the primal energy released in Weiwei's climaxes.
In this moment, both Lei and Weiwei were in peril, and it was then that Song Yingfei arrived.
She knocked, but no one answered. Using the company's spare key, she let herself in, assuming Weiwei was too weak to respond, perhaps asleep. She didn't overthink it.
But a faint, anguished cry from the bedroom sent her rushing in. The sight stopped her cold—a scene of raw, chaotic intimacy unfolding between Lei Zhengyang and Weiwei. Lei's frenzied dominance and Weiwei's pained gasps convinced Yingfei this wasn't consensual love but a brutal violation, echoing a trauma of her own.
Without hesitation, driven by instinct to save her friend, Yingfei swung her purse at Lei. But her action provoked the man lost in a haze of power and lust.
Lei spun, his usually sunny face twisted with a menacing aura. His eyes glowed red with a chilling, crazed intent. Grabbing Yingfei, he flung her onto the bed, his naked form shifting from Weiwei to pin her down.
Both women gasped in horror.
Weiwei tried to intervene, but her body was too drained to move a finger. She could only scream, "Zhengyang, no! Stop! That's Yingfei!" Her cries fell on deaf ears as the sound of tearing fabric filled the room.
Yingfei's eyes blazed with fury, unable to believe Lei would dare assault her as he ripped at her clothes.
"Lei Zhengyang, you dare!" she shouted.
She'd endured this nightmare once before, and now it merged with the present. Last time, Lei had vanished without explanation. This time, Yingfei's luck ran dry.
She fought desperately, but her resistance was futile. Her clothes were shredded, her pristine skin gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the curtains, exuding the fresh scent of youth—a scent Lei's ravenous instincts craved. With ease, he forced her legs apart.
Yingfei's nightmare replayed, her fate inescapable. The man she despised most stole her first time, claiming her amid her tears and struggles.
Over that day and night, two women on the same bed lost their purest dreams—one in bliss, the other in agony. Both bore crystalline tears on their faces.
Weiwei couldn't fathom why the happiest moment of womanhood had twisted into this tragedy.
Yingfei was even more lost, unable to grasp why her year-long nightmare had returned so vividly. As she opened her eyes, the truth hit—not a dream, but reality. She'd been violated. Though Lei was gone, the blood-streaked sheets confirmed the horror had just happened.
She expected to scream, to lose herself in rage, but to Weiwei's surprise, Yingfei was calm. Wrapping herself in a loose coat, she sat on the bed, spotting a pack of men's cigarettes—Lei's. She lit one, inhaling deeply, coughing as the smoke hit her lungs. Looking at Weiwei, she forced a faint smile. "Not a great taste, is it?"
A tear glistened in her eye, but she fought to keep it from falling.
Unable to hold back, Weiwei pulled her into a tight embrace. "Yingfei, I know you want to cry. Let it out. It'll help."