Taming the Fierce Hound | Chapter 46 | Fireworks of the Soul | Novela.app

He cried so aggrievedly, so pitifully. Since Zong Yan and Si Jiang had reunited, this was the first time she had seen his tears. Those unruly, beautiful eyes—which only moments ago had been filled with a feral violence—were now damp. Pearl-like droplets fell continuously from his trembling lashes. Zong Yan couldn't help but think: *How beautiful he looks when he cries.* To see his mask shatter and his reason collapse, to have him reveal this state where he seemed to live for her and was prepared to die for her—how truly beautiful it was. There was no scenery in the world that could draw her gaze more than this. Zong Yan used her fingers to catch those scalding, sorrowful tears, letting them moisten and soften the thick, rough calluses on the side of her hand. She asked, "Si Jiang, where is the thing?" Si Jiang lowered his head, watching his dignity fall drop by drop onto the woman’s far-from-pretty hand. He refused to answer. By what right did she ignore every one of his questions? By what right did she only ask him where the thing was? But the hand on his neck suddenly tightened in a threatening gesture. Zong Yan asked softly, "I am only asking this one last time. Si Jiang, did you throw it away?" She needed to understand his attitude. Si Jiang looked up at her with resentment, staring at this woman who took pleasure in his pain. "I truly wish I could have thrown it away." He reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and shoved it crudely into Zong Yan’s hand. "Who would even want it?" Yet even as he said this, he watched Zong Yan’s movements with nervous intensity, as if terrified she might break it. In reality, it was already broken. Zong Yan opened her hand to look at the block of wax in her palm. It was deformed from melting, the marks once etched upon it no longer visible. She said nothing, simply slipping it into her own pocket. Si Jiang froze. He reached out to snatch it back. "Give it back to me!" Zong Yan swatted his hand away. "I was the one who gave this to you in the first place." Actually, Zong Yan just wanted to tease him; she intended to take the wax block back to see if she could restore it. But unexpectedly, Si Jiang looked as if he had been struck. He took a step back, accusing her with a look of utter disbelief. *You’re taking it back?* *I only have this one thing left, and you’re taking it back?* What did this mean? Si Jiang was unwilling to think about it. It felt as though if he even brushed against that thought, the only strength supporting him—the strength that allowed him to stand here and face this world—would vanish like a long-lingering mirage in a single gust of wind. He reached out. "Give it back." "Give it back to me!!" He suddenly became agitated again, reaching for Zong Yan’s pocket. Zong Yan took the opportunity to pull him into an embrace, firmly gripping the back of his neck. "Shh." Her fingertips pressed against the protruding vertebrae, stroking up and down in a slow, leisurely rhythm. "Stop shouting." His throat was already raw; didn't it hurt to howl like that? Si Jiang’s entire body was enveloped in that familiar warmth, yet it made him shudder more violently than if he were being scorched by fire. He lowered his voice, repeating with stubborn reluctance, "That is my thing." "I know." Zong Yan stopped provoking him. "Give it back." "Not right now." "Why?" "What is it that you actually want?" Zong Yan steered the conversation back. "Si Jiang, you have everything. Why obsess over a piece of wax?" "If you want to watch a movie, you only need to say the word and countless people would be willing to accompany you." Si Jiang’s chin rested on her shoulder. "Si Jiang, what else do you want?" Why did he come looking for her again and again? Why did he always show this expression in front of her? Why, when he had already returned to a life of luxury and splendor, did he insist on approaching her world? Zong Yan knew the answer. But she was waiting—waiting for him to say it himself. Waiting for the collar to be placed back into her hands. She was willing to wait a little longer. "None of them will do." After a long silence, she finally received the man’s answer. "None of them are you." "Why does it have to be me?" "Don't force me... Zong Yan, don't force me." Si Jiang clenched his teeth, refusing to answer. He absolutely would not answer at this moment. He still had so much resentment left unvented; he would not allow himself to submit so easily once again. Zong Yan didn't mind receiving such an ambiguous answer. She hadn't expected Si Jiang to yield easily. She was merely looking for the answer she needed through his behavior. She had found it. Therefore, she still had plenty of patience to wait for a long-abandoned, hyper-vigilant pet to return to her side of his own free will. "Let’s go. Don't stay here any longer; you're causing trouble for others." Zong Yan patted his back. Forced to leave her embrace, Si Jiang stiffened his expression and said, "My family owns this place." "Oh. How impressive," Zong Yan said flatly. Si Jiang pursed his lips nervously, his fingers twitching neurotically. "But even a little money is still money." He took two steps forward, then stopped to look at Zong Yan. Zong Yan started walking toward him. "I want to go home and sleep. I'm very tired." Si Jiang’s tone sounded normal, yet Zong Yan could still hear the grievance and that familiar, barely perceptible act of acting spoiled. She nodded. "Didn't your house burn down?" "To your place!" Si Jiang replied almost instantly. Zong Yan paused, thought of something, and shook her head. "Next time. It's not very convenient." Si Jiang was profoundly disappointed. He turned his head away listlessly. "Someone should have gone to handle it already. It shouldn't be a big problem." *Heh.* *Truly a wicked woman.* *Who knows what she’s hiding at home?* *Is she hiding a person?* *Wait—* *It couldn't be Bai—!* "Ah!" He stumbled forward. "Focus." From above came the woman’s voice, cold and indifferent even now. It was a voice full of a desire for control, allowing him no thought of escape. Si Jiang’s slender fingers gripped the pillow. His brow furrowed slightly, and his lips were stained a vivid red. Suppressing his voice, he asked, "Have you... ever... been like this with him?" "Who?" Zong Yan leaned over his back, her hair falling beside his face, brushing against his ear as she asked. Si Jiang shuddered, his shoulders hunching. Zong Yan didn't believe the frantic demands he was shouting now; she simply focused on doing what she needed to do. She saw "peach blossoms" blooming across the man’s body, patch by patch, followed by a rising flush like red clouds. The scars that had appeared on his body at some unknown point looked like the mangled wounds of fallen petals—pathetic yet gorgeous. So she asked, "These scars on your body... how did they get there?" "You... f*ck, you can't just force it like this... Answer my... question first!" Si Jiang cursed inwardly. When would things ever get better? Did he have to be the one to research this? To save his own health and experience, he would have to be the one to compromise. In any case, this woman would absolutely never bother to study such things. "What question? Oh—" Zong Yan drew out the sound. She felt Si Jiang press his chest lower, giving her more room to move. "Tell me!" Si Jiang turned his head, his sweat-drenched face looking toward Zong Yan in desperation. There was no answer on Zong Yan’s face. He grew frantic. He reached out and grabbed the hand she had placed on his shoulder. "You haven't really... already slept with him, have you?!" Then what was he? A shameless homewrecker? The mere thought that Zong Yan might have done the same things with Bai Mao after abandoning him made him want to vomit. Zong Yan watched him fill in the blanks with his own imagination until his arousal began to fade and his body turned rigid. She patted him on his fleshiest part. "No." So, focus. It happened quite naturally. Zong Yan and Si Jiang returned to his home, took a shower, and lay in bed. Si Jiang was buried entirely under the covers, his head resting right by her hand. To be honest, Zong Yan was also a bit tired. Stopping him from acting like a madman in public was not an easy task. She slowly closed her eyes, her breathing slowing down. Then, with a rustling sound, someone crawled out. He leaned close to her face, his hot breath hitting her skin. "?" Zong Yan opened her eyes and looked at him. She saw Si Jiang biting his lip as he placed something in her hand. Zong Yan looked down. It was a new set of tools, suited for her. There were even several different sizes and colors to choose from. The shapes of some of them made even Zong Yan wonder. *With a shape like that, can it even go in?* Si Jiang knelt down and said, "Didn't you ask me what I wanted? I want you to—I—" Zong Yan sat up, toying with a few bottles of liquid labeled in a foreign language, her gaze dark as she looked at him. "This time, do the prep—" Fireworks exploded in Si Jiang’s mind. It had been a long time since he had seen fireworks. The last time such brilliant pyrotechnics had appeared in his world was during that cold, wretched winter. At that time, he thought he had finally found something. He thought he would possess everything he lacked. But fireworks are fleeting, and his happiness vanished even faster. At first, he didn't understand why. Was she being threatened? Was it because of his family? Later, on a bed in the psychiatric hospital, his entire body was bound, and there were no windows. But he heard the sound of fireworks outside. He suddenly understood. It was because he was inferior. Si Jiang was a wretched person—arrogant and conceited, looking down on everyone starting from the beginning just because he had been born in "Rome." He possessed all the fatal flaws of his class: no faith, no reverence, only privilege and desire. That was why he dared to humiliate someone at will. He dared to look down on others' pain from a high vantage point, using money to dismiss ordinary dreams, while simultaneously consuming his own soul, page by page. He had long forgotten who he was, nearly becoming a shell filled with emptiness. Until that cold, aloof gaze fell upon him. It illuminated his ugliness so vividly that there was nowhere to hide. Besides a face, what did he have? Nothing but a skin that would sooner or later grow old. If he were Zong Yan, he would have already become rotting trash on a street corner. Only someone like Zong Yan could crawl out of a trash heap, shake off the filth, and walk into the light. And he would only ever be left far behind. Therefore, he could not give her that chance. He hated her. She was the one who pulled him down from his vanity and let him fall into the dust. So she shouldn't even dream of getting rid of him. She must—forever be his master. "These scars... they were all made so I would remember a name." *** | Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation | | :--- | :--- | :--- | | 白袤 | Bai Mao | A male character Zong Yan went to the movies with; Si Jiang's rival. | | 润滑 | Lubricant | Often shortened to '润' in the text. | | 罗马 | Rome | Used metaphorically to mean being born into extreme wealth/privilege. |