Beitang Yao lowered his eyes, focusing on her rosy, bright cherry lips, almost ready to approach her, savoring the fragrance and sweetness that belonged to her.
"You can address me as Young Master. I don't like hearing things I dislike from your little mouth." He extended his slender fingers, pressing down on her cherry lips. Yet in his ink-black eyes, there flashed a glimmer of unease.
A bright white flashed in Xia Qingqian's mind, causing her chest to surge with every word the Young Master had spoken before. She couldn't forget, nor would she, at least for the next two years, she had to firmly remember them.
She had neither the right nor the ability to contend with Beitang Yao; she could only succumb to his authoritarian dominance.
In the moment Beitang Yao stood up, Xia Qingqian hurriedly let her emotions gradually return to normal. She crouched down, half-kneeling, picking up the things that had fallen onto the carpet. Thankfully, she hadn't dirtied his expensive carpet.
