Quick Transmigration: The Sweetheart Everyone Loves Is Stuck in Romantic Chaos Every Day - Chapter 56

“Ever since I woke up, I’ve been desperate to see you. I imagined holding you like this, kissing you, doing even more outrageous things to you—”

Ruan Tang’s face flushed crimson. She bit her lower lip, her curled lashes trembling slightly, stirring a tender sense of pity.

“But all you can think about is that man.”

Tuoba Hong’s voice was cold as frost, thick with jealousy.

“What’s so good about him?! He’s already halfway in the grave, and he treated you so poorly before. Why do you keep thinking of him, remembering him? Do you really like him that much?”

Ruan Tang looked startled, moisture welling at the corners of her eyes, her lips trembling.

“I—I don’t… It’s just… His Highness only ended up like this because of me—”

Before she could finish, Tuoba Hong cut her off sharply.

“I searched for you too! I stood out in the rain, drenched to the bone! But you didn’t even glance at me once! Why? Just because I’m healthy and won’t fall sick?”

He looked almost crazed, eyes blazing red.

“Then I wish I were an invalid too—weak, sickly, barely able to stand—if it meant you’d look at me. Only me.”

He lifted his hand as if to strike himself.

Ruan Tang’s eyes went wide in fright, and she hurried to clutch his arm.

“Don’t—”

She stared at him urgently.

In those misty eyes, Tuoba Hong saw his own reflection.

His heart pounded violently. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

His large hand closed firmly around the delicate nape of her neck, pushing her back against the bedframe before he kissed her, hard.

It was a searing, plundering kiss. Ruan Tang felt her lips go numb, her breath stolen away, leaving nothing but the heady scent of him wrapping around her completely.

Her head spun; it felt like she might melt entirely.

And just behind her, not far away, lay the unconscious Luo Qingli.

The prince’s jade-like, handsome face was faintly furrowed, as if sensing something. A low murmur escaped him.

“Tang Tang…”

The sound jolted Ruan Tang awake. In a panic, her small, soft hands pushed frantically against Tuoba Hong’s solid chest.

“Stop…”

She was terrified Luo Qingli would wake and scold her again.

But to Tuoba Hong, her words only meant she didn’t want her beloved to see him “bullying” her.

The jealousy in his chest flared hotter.

“Stop kissing you? Fine.”

His deep, husky voice dripped with possessiveness.

In one smooth motion, he wrapped a strong arm around her waist, turning her to face Luo Qingli.

His other hand tilted up her delicate chin, forcing her to lift her gaze—almost face to face with the unconscious prince.

Then he leaned in from behind, his lips claiming the pale curve of her neck in a fierce, domineering kiss.

His breath was hot and ragged.

“If I can’t kiss your lips, how about this instead?”

“Do you like it?”

Ruan Tang’s eyes reddened at the corners, a misty sheen blurring her gaze. Shame and guilt crashed over her, leaving her unbearably sensitive.

A few scattered kisses along her neck were enough to turn her legs to water. If not for Tuoba Hong’s strong grip at her waist, she might have collapsed right onto the prince.

“Let me go…”

Her voice was soft and trembling, barely above a whisper.

Tuoba Hong’s eyes glowed red, his own breath unsteady.

“Why? Don’t you like him? Don’t you like looking at him?”

It was the first time she had ever been treated like this. Her shame spilled over into tears.

One after another, crystalline drops slid down her delicate cheeks, falling onto the hand gripping her chin.

Tuoba Hong froze as if burned. He released her abruptly, voice hoarse and unsteady.

“You… you’re crying?”

Ruan Tang seized the moment, shoving him away with all her strength before turning to run.

He barely had time to glance back.

She fled with her reddened eyes shimmering wetly; the brief flash of her tear-stained profile was enough to shatter his heart.

What had he done—

Tuoba Hong stared at the tear that had fallen into his palm, anguish swallowing him whole.

All because of his ugly, festering jealousy, he had done this to her…

He wasn’t even human.

Smack.

He slapped himself hard.

He hadn’t held back; a bright red handprint bloomed on his handsome cheek, blood staining the corner of his lips.

“I… deserve to die.”

With pain and self-loathing, he pressed a kiss to that tear.

…

Ruan Tang, terrified, rushed back to her room. She grabbed the bundle of belongings she had already packed and fled the prince’s residence.

If she stayed any longer, she was sure she’d be devoured whole!

Her mind flashed back to just moments ago.

His chest had been so warm, his arms so firm and strong—she had felt herself melting in Tuoba Hong’s embrace.

That shameful, uncontrollable reaction… It made her heart pound in panic.

She felt like she was becoming someone she didn’t recognize.

The fear was overwhelming.

She dashed out of the residence, intent on finding Helian Zijun for a carriage.

But before she had run far, a hand suddenly yanked her into a narrow alley.

She opened her mouth to scream, but when she looked up, she met a pair of vivid, sapphire-blue cat eyes.

It was the very prince she had been looking for.

Today, Helian Zijun wore exotic foreign-style clothing, looking every bit like a fairytale prince stepped out of a storybook.

Sunlight gilded his golden hair in dazzling light; his foreign-blooded features were sharp and strikingly beautiful, yet his bright cat-like eyes held a soft, boyish charm.

“Why are you running around in such a panic?”

Helian Zijun’s gaze swept over her—then his expression darkened sharply.

Her eyes were still wet with fear, long lashes damp from tears. Her peach blossom eyes shimmered with fragile appeal, and her cherry lips were swollen.

The pale column of her neck was marked with messy, rough, unmistakably intimate traces.

She looked exactly like a girl who had been harshly bullied by a man.

Helian Zijun smothered the violent anger and jealousy churning in his chest, speaking in a low, dark voice.

“Who did this? That sickly prince of yours?”

If it was Luo Qingli, no matter how jealous he felt, he had no right to interfere.

But the tightness in his chest only grew.

Ruan Tang bit her lip, lowering her lashes without a word.

Helian Zijun sensed something was wrong.

“Wasn’t Luo Qingli bedridden?”

He had men watching the residence at all times; he knew the prince was ill.

“Then which bastard dared to—? I’ll kill him—”

Before he could finish, a sharp killing intent shot toward him.

Helian Zijun reacted instantly, wrapping an arm around Ruan Tang’s slim waist as he spun them out of the way.

A pitch-black longsword stabbed straight into the spot he’d just been standing.

If his reflexes had been slower, he would already be dead.

Such a vicious strike!

He turned, fury flashing in his eyes.

A tall man in black stood there, exuding murderous intent. His hair was tied high, his clean, decisive look marking him as a seasoned wanderer of the jianghu (t/n: the martial world, often referring to wandering fighters and rogues).

Beneath the dark clothing, taut muscle shifted with power and control.

Stray black strands fell over his brow, failing to mask the cold, cutting sharpness in his long eyes.

He was like an unsheathed sword—unyielding, unstoppable, radiating lethal dominance.