Taming the Fierce Hound | Chapter 21 | Climbing into Bed | Novela.app

Chapter 21 - Climbing into Bed "How can the school act like this? This is beyond the pale! They’re just bullying you because you have no one to back you up—because you’re an orphan, isn't that it?" Wang Yao slammed her hand against the table, rising to her feet. Though she was already in her forties, her temper flared with the intensity of a youth, her face contorted in a snarl of righteous indignation. She had originally come to finalize some design blueprints, but seeing the fresh bruises on Zong Yan’s skin made her blood boil. Wang Yao had personally taught Zong Yan various self-defense techniques, believing that with those skills, few would be able to lay a finger on the girl. But she had forgotten one crucial thing: in this world, the most dangerous weapons weren't just physical strength; they were the sycophancy of the masses and the crushing weight of institutional power. "If I hadn't forced the truth out of you, were you ever going to say a word?" Wang Yao asked, her voice trembling with frustration. She noticed the other patrons in the cafe beginning to cast curious, judgmental glances their way, and she forced herself to sit back down, still huffing. Zong Yan merely brushed the back of her hand against the bruise on her cheek. Her expression remained as flat and tranquil as a stagnant pool. "It’s already over," she said calmly. "The injuries are almost healed." "You... you really are something else!" Wang Yao sighed, exasperated and helpless. Since she was a child, Zong Yan had been a girl of few words, burying everything deep within the recesses of her mind. No matter how great the grievance or how sharp the pain, she always wore that same mask of numbness. It was as if a bottomless black hole resided within her, absorbing every emotion and every trauma until all that remained was a hollow shell—a "roly-poly" toy that refused to stay down. No matter how hard the world pushed her, suppressed her, or humiliated her, she would always wobble back to an upright position. Yet, as Wang Yao looked into Zong Yan’s eyes—eyes that hadn't changed in years—a sliver of unease pricked at her heart. No human being could be that resilient, that indifferent, without a cost. Zong Yan’s rigid spine was like a bowstring pulled to its absolute limit; Wang Yao didn't know how much longer that string could hold before it snapped. She wondered if Zong Yan ever allowed herself to rest. If one day she simply decided she no longer wanted to endure, would she collapse in an instant, shattering into pieces that no one could ever hope to put back together? "Little Zong Yan," Wang Yao said, setting the blueprints aside. "In all these years, have you ever made a real friend?" Perhaps if Zong Yan could experience a bit of soft, genuine affection, she might find the strength to hold on a little longer. "A friend?" Zong Yan shook her head. Seeing the look of profound sorrow on Wang Yao’s face, Zong Yan’s lips twitched into the faint ghost of a smile. "However... I recently took in a pet." "A pet? What kind? A cat or a dog?" Wang Yao’s eyes lit up instantly. "You should have said something sooner! My house is full of them, and they’re incredibly picky. I have a mountain of canned food they refuse to touch; I’ll give them to you to try out." Raising a pet was a wonderful idea, Wang Yao thought. In today’s society, animals were far more lovable than people. Dealing with humans often led to betrayal, but a pet offered nothing but pure, unadulterated devotion. It was a sign, she hoped, that Zong Yan was finally trying to truly *live*. "He probably wouldn't like canned food," Zong Yan declined politely. "Oh, come on, let me show you my Mimi and my Samoyed." Wang Yao pulled out her phone and slid into the seat next to Zong Yan to share her photos. On the screen, a morbidly obese ginger cat was sprawled out on the floor, its backside aimed directly at a sleeping Samoyed. The fur on the Samoyed’s head had been dyed a vibrant green, making it look as though it were wearing a single, oversized leaf. "Haha, cute, right? I used all-natural dye to do it." Zong Yan nodded. She had always harbored a quiet fondness for animals, which was why she spent so much of her meager resources feeding the strays at school. Unfortunately, after the earthquake, she hadn't been able to find the ones she was familiar with. Their disappearance had left her in a foul mood for a long time. With some effort, Zong Yan steered the conversation back to the purpose of their meeting. "Don't worry," Wang Yao assured her. "The client is exceptionally pleased with your design. They even want to increase your commission." "That’s good." Zong Yan felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Despite the turmoil at school, the feedback from Wang Yao’s commissions had been excellent, providing her with a significant amount of unexpected income. She had even caught the eye of a major firm that expressed interest in a long-term partnership. "Thank you, Sister Yao." "Don't mention it. Besides, you have to be a good blacksmith to forge good iron. You’re talented; I’m just the middleman." As they prepared to part ways, Wang Yao double-checked Zong Yan’s current major and class details with a mysterious air, leaving Zong Yan wondering what she was up to. *** As winter approached, the atmosphere inside Zong Yan’s derelict apartment began to shift. One night, she was jolted from her sleep by the rhythmic, metallic clicking of teeth chattering. It was then she realized that a thin blanket and long sleeves were no match for the biting chill of a winter night spent on a concrete floor. "Si Jiang." She climbed out of bed and tapped the cheek of her "pet," which had turned a sickly, pale white from the cold. Si Jiang opened his eyes blearily. Seeing Zong Yan, he instinctively leaned his face into her hand, nuzzling her palm. "Master?" "It’s too cold down there. Come up and sleep." At the very least, Zong Yan’s duvet was thick enough to retain some warmth. Si Jiang was stunned. Clutching his pillow, the leash still fastened around his neck, he climbed onto the bed in a half-dreaming state and lay down beside her. Zong Yan pulled the covers over them both and prepared to go back to sleep. Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit him. He bolted upright. *What?! He was in his Master’s bed?!* "Si Jiang," Zong Yan warned, her sleepiness frayed by his sudden movement. "If you don't want to sleep, get back on the floor." "I’m sleeping! I’m sleeping!" he stammered, hurriedly lying back down and pulling the duvet up to his chin. The slightly sagging mattress, the warmth of the blanket, and the steady, rhythmic breathing of Zong Yan lying right beside him... Si Jiang felt a surge of pure joy. He lay there in the darkness, a silent, beaming smile stretching across his face. He began to inch closer. A tiny shift here, a subtle slide there, until his arm finally brushed against Zong Yan’s side. Zong Yan opened her eyes. "Something wrong?" "Master," Si Jiang whispered, "why aren't you warm at all?" "I’ve always been like this." Regardless of the season, her body temperature remained low. "Then... Master, you can put your hands and feet on me. I’m like a furnace." The pet tentatively took hold of one of her fingers. Seeing no resistance, he grew bolder, wrapping his large palm around her hand and pulling it against his chest. Zong Yan watched him in silence, offering no word of protest. The warmth radiating from him was far greater than her own. His hands were large, yet the skin was soft and smooth, devoid of the calluses that marked a life of labor—the skin of a man born into privilege. Si Jiang’s heart hammered against his ribs. He licked his lips nervously and, under Zong Yan’s steady gaze, leaned in to press a fleeting kiss against the corner of her mouth. "Goodnight kiss, Master." Before she could react, he squeezed his eyes shut and lay perfectly still, like a dead fish. "I’m asleep now!" In the silence of the night, a strange, unspoken sentiment began to take root. Zong Yan studied his sharp features. Because of his guilt and nerves, his eyelashes were trembling incessantly. His bangs hung over his brow, lending a touch of delicate grace to his handsome face. She recalled her conversation with Wang Yao. Wang Yao had said that having a pet was a source of comfort; that when one encountered misery in the outside world, they could return home to "harass" and cuddle their pet until the unhappiness vanished. She called it the role of a "companion animal." Zong Yan didn't know if Wang Yao was exaggerating. She only knew that her own heart, once capable of intense emotion, now beat with a weary, mechanical rhythm. As long as she could survive until her goals were met, nothing else mattered. Perhaps this pet she kept was a final placebo, a last-ditch effort by the part of her soul that hadn't quite died yet to find some form of solace. "Open your eyes." Si Jiang pretended not to hear. He was "asleep"! In the darkness, a faint sigh escaped someone’s lips. A cold kiss descended upon the man who was faking sleep. Taking advantage of his momentary shock, Zong Yan pried his lips apart, her tongue invading his mouth with a sudden, fierce intensity. "Mmph... Mas—mm—Master?" Si Jiang tilted his head back, surrendering to the onslaught. He had never experienced anything like this; he could only passively allow her cool tongue to explore the depths of his mouth. "Ugh—" Zong Yan’s kiss was much like her personality: quiet and low-profile on the surface, but possessed of a hidden, ruthless streak. Though it was a kiss, Si Jiang felt as if she were trying to drain the very life force from his body. The relentless assault robbed him of oxygen; he couldn't breathe. The sensation of suffocation turned his face a deep crimson, his chest heaving. For a fleeting second, he genuinely thought he might die like this. But at the peak of that agonizing pressure, a powerful, numbing wave of pleasure surged through his entire body. The intersection of life and death sent a jolt of excitement through him instantly. When the kiss finally broke, Si Jiang rolled over, pinning Zong Yan beneath him. Seeing her silent permission, he dove under the covers. His burning kisses trailed down her neck and chest, eventually pulling down her lounge pants. He pressed his face against her, eager and desperate. Zong Yan closed her eyes, her breathing losing its steady rhythm. She surrendered to the unprecedented stimulation, allowing her pet to drag her down into a chaotic abyss of sensation. "Nngh..." At the critical moment, she reached down, gripping Si Jiang’s hair and pressing his head firmly against her, refusing to let him retreat. *** When it was over, Si Jiang dutifully cleaned up the mess with his mouth before emerging from beneath the duvet. He looked up at Zong Yan with a fawning, hopeful smile. His expression seemed to ask: *Master, did I do well?* "Go and wash up properly," Zong Yan said. She was refreshed, but she caught a glimpse of his own disheveled state. "Okay!" Si Jiang scrambled off the bed, his legs slightly unsteady, and hurried toward the bathroom in the dark room. The first thing he did was flick on the light and scrub his face clean with a towel. Then, he used a few wet wipes to clean himself up. Finally, he stood before the mirror to fix his hair, only to see a fool staring back at him—a dazed idiot with a lingering, lovestruck grin. "Fuck." Si Jiang couldn't bear to look at himself. He rubbed his face vigorously until the strange expression was wiped away. When he returned to the sofa area, Zong Yan had already closed her eyes, seemingly fast asleep. He crawled back under the duvet with practiced stealth, let out a contented sigh, and closed his eyes. The next morning, when Zong Yan woke up, she found her hands and feet tucked firmly into the pet’s embrace. He had his face buried in her shoulder, sleeping soundly. She thought of Wang Yao’s words again. Perhaps she really hadn't made a mistake in keeping this pet. When she returned home that evening, she brought back a thick, fluffy rug and a space heater. She had Si Jiang move his bedding aside, then spread the rug over the cold floor. The thick pile felt warm against the skin almost immediately. But before bed, the pet looked at her with an expression of profound grievance. Zong Yan was somewhat puzzled, but she didn't ask. She simply instructed him, "If you’re still cold, turn on the heater." Si Jiang’s face fell. He dejectedly lay back down on the floor. *What was that? He only got to climb into her bed for one day?* Was this what it felt like to be "favored" for a night, only to be banished back to the "Cold Palace" the very next day? *** **Glossary**