Foster Son, Don’t Be So Crazy (43)

Song Jia bolted upright in a sitting position, looking wide-eyed at Xiang Feng. She stared at him with a complex expression.

"Jia?" Confused, Xiang Feng also sat up and looked at her.

Song Jia could almost hear her heart pounding inside her chest. She had clearly saw his corpse, so it should be impossible, but why...

This man...was her Xiao Feng?

"You..." Song Jia wanted to ask, but at the same time, she was also afraid to ask.

This budding hope growing inside her heart, she did not want to dash it. What if her speculations were completely wrong? If the original Hunter had died, it was also possible that Princess Bai Xue simply replaced Xiang Feng with this perverted man. Song Jia did not have a hundred percent certainty that her instincts were right, and she did not want that small margin of error to make her heart grieve all over again.

She fell silent, having completely lost her courage.

"It doesn't matter."

She laid back down.

Xiang Feng looked at her from above, his dark eyes unfathomable. For a second, he thought that she discovered his identity. The anxious heart inside his chest gradually relaxed. He was still not prepared to introduce himself to her. Xiang Feng leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Goodnight, Jia."

Song Jia's eyelashes trembled. She looked away, not meeting his eyes.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

Xiang Feng pulled her into his arms as he laid back down, resuming their previous position. Song Jia wriggled slightly, uncomfortable.

"Can't we just sleep normally? I'm a woman, and you're a man. This isn't appropriate."

"You're right. I'm an adult man. You're an adult woman." She could hear a smile in his voice. "Does Jia feel self-conscious around me?"

"...I don't know how to answer that."

Song Jia could feel his laughter vibrate through his chest. "Your small pause answers my question though?"

He buried his face into her neck again.

"As expected, Jia is very cute. En, very, very cute, ah."

Song Jia, "..."

That line felt eerily familiar.

It took a long time for Song Jia to fall asleep. When she woke up in the middle of the night for her usual glass of water, she saw that they hadn't changed their position even the slightest bit. She tried to extricate the arm wrapped around her waist, but his grip was too tight. She struggled a couple of times before finally giving up.

"Hey, let me go," she whispered.

His hold only tightened around her.

"Let me go, I need to drink water."

The arm around her waist slightly loosened.

Song Jia got up and looked at him suspiciously. Was this man really asleep? She studied him for a moment, but his breathing was deep and even. It seemed that he had only subconsciously reacted to her words.

Song Jia walked out of the bedroom and in a whim, she checked out the door to see if it was locked.

Song Jia thought, if someday she became a popular transmigrator and a journalist from a future interview asked her the question, "In your whole transmigration career, what surprised you the most?"

She would have answered: "Easy, it was the fact that a metal bar could go through a wall to lock the door."

In fact, Song Jia did not immediately realize that it was a metal bar. The outer surface had been coated with clay, and it was bent in such a way that it looked deceptively easy to twist. Later, Song Jia discovered that the metal latch outside had been pulled through the wall and through the door, creating a looping chain lock. Both the holes in the wall and the wooden door were fist-sized.

Song Jia was speechless.

Did you have to go this far, ah?!

There was a pitcher and a mug on the sitting room table. It wasn't there before, so Song Jia could only deduce that the masked man had put it there when he went out to get her dress. She stared at the pitcher for a breath of time, looking absent-minded.

After drinking a mouthful, Song Jia went back to the bedroom. Suddenly, she stopped.

She saw that the masked man had curled himself up under the blanket, his tall form looking like a child's as he trembled. His whole body was soaked with sweat, and he was mumbling something under his breath.

Step by step, Song Jia walked closer to him.

"Don't go...don't go..."

At the familiar voice that was pleading hoarsely for someone not to leave him, Song Jia's face became completely pale. Without any hesitation, she hurried over and shook him.

"Xiao Feng, wake up!"

"No...don't go....don't...I won't let you!"

Xiang Feng's hand jerked up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her down towards him. Song Jia gave a muffled squeak of pain as her nose collided against his hard chest. At that moment, Xiang Feng's eyes flashed open.

Unable to distinguish dreams from reality, he pinned Song Jia's wrists above her head. Her hair spilled and fanned on the bed, gleaming faintly in the near darkness. Song Jia looked at him with wide eyes.

"Xiao Feng?"

He looked at her, continuing to press her on the bed with his weight. He did not respond to her but bit her lips as hard as he could, beginning a fierce kiss that stole her breath.

Their breaths mingled together, and Song Jia's eyelashes trembled as he continued to kiss her without any signs of stopping. The wet sound of their lips moving against each other echoed in her ears. She wanted to breathe, so she struggled to open her mouth.

His lips were firm, like the rest of him, and demanding, his tongue immediately taking advantage of her parted lips to plunge into her mouth. His soft groan vibrated against her tongue.

When he finally stopped, he pressed his forehead against hers. This time, Xiang Feng was completely awake. As if he was remembering something unpleasant, his eyes darkened.

Song Jia inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with air. She didn't know that this small break would only last a second as Xiang Feng kissed her again, his mouth slanted against hers. His hands let go of her wrists and cradled her head. This time, his kiss was even more urgent and demanding than before.

As Xiang Feng kissed her, his nightmare kept repeating in flashbacks inside his head.

His dream started with her, the woman that kept appearing inside his head. She was wearing strange clothes, and he dreamed that he had pushed her with his own hands, and she crashed into the wall. Midway through, her face changed to Song Jia's, and he became aware that he had turned into a horse, and he was about to trample her with his flailing hooves...

Their faces blurring into one another, but it didn't matter who she was, because both women lay dying inside his arms. He kept telling her not to go and leave him, but her only response was the increasing amount of blood that pooled on the ground.

Song Jia wriggled her head, and her lips left his for a fraction of a second. Xiang Feng barely gave her a chance to breathe before he claimed her mouth once again. He kissed her deeply, like he wanted to eat her. Song Jia was about to bite him when she suddenly tasted something salty on her lips.

Stunned, she raised her eyes and looked at him.

But Xiang Feng had abruptly stopped kissing her and buried his face into her neck, his shoulders slightly trembling.