Transmigration; Married to My Ex-Fiancé's Uncle-Chapter 252; Lu Yuze 4

He swung his legs off the bed, the movement fluid despite his obvious, straining arousal. He didn’t bother to hide it as he stood; let the world see the effect she had on him. He snatched a robe from a nearby chair, tying it loosely around his waist as he strode to the door.

He opened it a bare two inches.

Ah Ling and Ah Ying stood in the hallway, their eyes carefully averted from the crack in the door. "Sir," Ah Ying murmured, "the documents from the Singapore merger have been couriered over urgently. They require your immediate review before the 5 AM call. And also we have got guests!"

Lu Yuze’s voice was a study in controlled impatience, rough-edged from interrupted passion. "I will be out in ten minutes. After a shower. Leave them in the study. And any guests, can be dismissed, I don’t plan on seeing anyone."

"Of course, sir."

He closed the door without another word, the lock engaging with a solid, definitive click.

He turned, leaning back against the door, his gaze finding Shuyin across the shadowed room. She had drawn the sheet up, a pale pool around her waist, her expression once more an inscrutable calm, though her lips were kiss-swollen and her hair a dark cloud around her shoulders. The jasmine-sea scent still hung in the air, now mingled with the tension of interruption.

The business of his empire had called, a stark reminder of the world that waited outside this room, outside the spell they had been weaving. The man and the mermaid regarded each other across the space, the unfinished intimacy a tangible third presence between them.

"Ten minutes," he said, the words a low vow.

She merely watched him, her melodic silence more answer than any words could be. The night was young, and the tides, as she had warned him, moved on their own schedule.

The click of the lock was a period in the middle of a heated sentence. Lu Yuze stood for a moment with his back to the door, the robe doing little to conceal the urgent evidence of his desire. The cool air of the room did nothing to douse the fire in his blood, a fire stoked by her scent, her touch, the melodic whisper of her voice.

He pushed himself away from the door and crossed back to the bed in three long strides. Shuyin watched him approach, a queen holding court amidst rumpled silk, her eyes still holding a trace of that murderous annoyance. He didn’t join her. Instead, he braced his hands on the mattress on either side of her hips and leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was deep, possessive, and deliberately, agonizingly finite.

He pulled back just as she began to respond in earnest. His voice was a rough caress against her lips. "We will continue this some other time. Get some rest."

Then he was straightening up, turning, and walking toward the ensuite bathroom without a backward glance.

Shuyin was left staring at the space he’d occupied, her mouth slightly agape, a shocked breath caught in her throat. The warmth he had kindled in her was a live coal in her belly. What did he mean by later? The sheer, galling audacity of it crackled through her. He had brought her to this precipice, awakened this strange, hungry heat in her blood, a sensation she, a creature of cool depths, had little precedent for, and now he was just... walking away?

This was not part of the treaty. This was a betrayal of the physical logic they had just established.

Lu Yuze, meanwhile, placed a steadying hand on the cool marble of the bathroom doorway. His reflection in the dark glass was a mask of strained control. He knew exactly what he was doing. Lust and love were two different continents, and he was a cartographer determined to map them both. To take her now, in the feverish aftermath of her scent and their raw negotiation, would be to claim a territory while it was storm-swept. He would own her body in that moment, yes. But her heart? Her soul? That would retreat to deeper waters, perhaps forever. He didn’t want a conquest; he wanted a covenant. He wanted her to come to him not because her biology sang for it, but because she did.

He heard the rustle of silk behind him.

Then, the air changed.

A sound flowed over him, through him. It was not a melody that could be written, a harmony that could be scored. It was the sound of tide-pulls and moon-dreams, of seduction so ancient it was woven into the bones of the sea itself. A siren’s call. It vibrated in his skull, a sweet, piercing ache that bypassed all reason and tapped directly into the primal core of want. For a few seconds, his vision swam. The world narrowed to the need to turn around, to go to her, to forget names and promises and drown in whatever she offered.

His knuckles whitened on the doorframe.

Then he blinked. The hypnotic fog lifted, not slowly, but with the decisive snap of a will that had been tempered in far hotter fires than this. He had built an empire on saying ’no’ to overwhelming temptations. This was just another.

He turned.

She was already there, having crossed the room with preternatural silence. She pressed herself against his back, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist, her face buried between his shoulder blades. The intoxicating jasmine-sea scent was now a cloud around them, laced with the power of her song.

He could feel the fine tremor in her arms. Not from cold, but from frustration, from a kind of hungry disbelief.

He didn’t try to disengage her hold. Instead, he covered her hands with his own, his thumb stroking her skin. His voice, when he spoke, was low, amused, and utterly controlled.

"You can just tell me you want to take a shower with me, my wife." He half-turned his head, a smirk playing on his lips as he caught the reflection of her wide, astonished eyes in the dark glass. The shock there was profoundly satisfying. She had unleashed a weapon of her people, and he had simply... weathered it.

Her grip loosened slightly. The melodic hum in the air cut off abruptly, replaced by a stunned silence. She had seen him falter for a heartbeat, seen the glaze of enchantment in his eyes. And then she had seen it clearly into something even more formidable: a conscious, unwavering choice.

He finally turned fully within her embrace, looking down at her. The playful smirk softened into something more intimate, more knowing. "The body is easy, Shuyin," he murmured, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "It’s a beautiful, tempting door. But I want the key to the rooms behind it. All of them. And keys," he added, his gaze dropping to her parted lips before returning to her eyes, "are not won with magic songs. They are earned with time. And trust."

He leaned in, pressing a chaste, lingering kiss to her forehead, directly over the spot that held her hidden, royal lineage. "The shower is big enough for two. But only if you come in with me as my wife, not as a siren trying to shipwreck me." He released her and stepped back toward the open bathroom door, a clear, patient invitation in his eyes. The choice, this time, was unequivocally hers.

The flush that heated Shuyin’s cheeks was a new and mortifying sensation. The cool, unflappable princess of the deep had been caught in a blatant, desperate act. Her siren’s call, a power that could bend the will of seasoned sailors, had shimmered against him and dissolved like sea foam against a granite cliff. The shock of it melted her composure, leaving behind something far more human: embarrassment.

She dropped her arms from around him as if burned, taking a step back. The alluring scent that had filled the room seemed to retreat with her, leaving only the clean, sharp scent of his self-control. To hide her burning face, she brought her hands up, pressing her cool palms against her hot skin. A soft, entirely undignified sound escaped her, a huff of pure, flustered frustration.

"Hmph... who wants to shower with you?" she muttered, the words muffled by her.....