For Lin Wan, whether she could maintain her composure depended entirely on whether Chen Jin allowed her to. If he chose to reason with her, they could talk; if not, there was nothing she could do. The room, no matter how large, was only a few dozen square meters, and the bed, no matter how wide, was just a few more square meters. No matter how much they struggled, the final result could only be decided by physical strength. A half-disabled woman and a healthy man fighting it out in terms of strength—there could only be one outcome.
After a few days of such "intimate exchanges," Lin Wan gained a deeper understanding of Chen Jin. For instance, his physical endurance was truly impressive. Moreover, he was not just a jerk, but a downright despicable one. She had originally planned to keep her mouth shut, even if she couldn't protect her body, and treat him like air—like a vicious, biting stray dog. But he was keen on verbal communication, and he always found ways to force her to speak.
For example, after they were done, he refused to let go of her body. She was uncomfortable and humiliated, and in the end, she had no choice but to speak. He shamelessly said, "Only when you 'expel' me, can I 'leave'."
Once, she almost ran out of breath under him, and she blurted out, "You should lose some weight." Instantly, he perked up, shamelessly asking, "So, where should I lose weight?" Then, like a rogue, he took her hand and moved it all over his body. "This? Or this?" he asked, his voice dripping with mischievousness. "Not all places can be reduced, like this here," he said, glancing at her chest, then pressing her hand down further. "And this." When her fingers touched something they shouldn't have, her face turned crimson. She was so embarrassed, she could have grabbed a pair of scissors and "reduced" him, so he could never harm anyone again.
He also liked giving her nicknames, which, in his eyes, were endearing. He would call her "Little Lame," "Little Cripple," each time with such gentleness, without any hint of self-awareness of the damage he had caused.
The most infuriating thing was that when he flirted with her, he loved to rub her right leg. The sensation was like a caterpillar crawling over her skin—tickling, uncomfortable, but she couldn't move. He would watch her frown and endure, enjoying the sight, then mock her, "I'm helping you stretch your leg muscles. They might die if you don't move them." Inside, she cursed him a thousand times, wishing that one day he would suffer just like that—no, even worse—crushing fractures, with steel nails added, both his thighs and calves completely destroyed.
As the saying goes, "Cursing doesn't hurt; swearing doesn't work." Chen Jin was still as energetic as ever, and when he had his way with her, he did so without hesitation. She was certain that not only was he a pervert, but one of the worst kind. Because every time, no matter how passionate or wild he became, he only tortured her left leg. She had worried that he might hurt her right leg, but it turned out her concerns were unwarranted. That guy had a surprisingly good memory, or perhaps his sense of rationality was twisted, because when they slept, he always lay on her left side, maintaining a half-foot distance between them.
She didn't think he was being considerate; he probably just didn't want her to get hurt and delay his "enjoyment." Later, she realized that he was simply not used to sleeping too close to anyone.
People who knew Lin Wan would say that she had a good temperament, but in front of Chen Jin, all of that vanished. As the saying goes, "When a rabbit is pushed to the limit, it bites." What about a person? Chen Jin enjoyed torturing and playing with her, but she couldn't retaliate physically since she didn't have his strength. However, she did have her own weapons as a woman.
During the day, she would sharpen her nails to a fine point, and when he came to "attack" her at night, she no longer lay rigidly, holding onto the sheets with both hands. Instead, she would reach up and wrap her arms around him. Chen Jin, seeing this, felt quite pleased, but suddenly, a searing sensation spread across his back. He reached back to feel, only to realize with shock that his skin had been torn open.
But Lin Wan had miscalculated, because for a man with tough skin, a little pain only spurred his desire for conquest, making him even more frantic. She didn't understand this. She thought perhaps it wasn't painful enough, so she lifted her head and put a bit into his shoulder. With her two sharp canines, she bit down with force, and soon, she tasted blood, surprisingly sweet.
Chen Jin yanked her away like a little wild wolf, hissing as he said, "Damn, you're ruthless, but I like your fiery temper much more than that dead-fish expression from a few days ago." Looking at the blood-red corners of her lips, he was only further aroused. His eyes darkened, and he leaned down, muttering, "Let me taste what my own blood is like." With that, he kissed her fiercely, as though trying to drain every last bit of oxygen from her lungs.
Lin Wan struggled to breathe, her mind swirling, with only one clear thought—Make him hurt. She slid her hand from his back to his shoulder, digging her sharp nails into the wound that was still wet with saliva and blood. She smiled inwardly as she heard him groan in pain.
From there, it seemed like a contest, a battle of wills. The ever vengeful Chen Jin wouldn't back down, biting her tongue in retaliation. Lin Wan focused all her strength into her nails, digging deeper, hoping to feel bone, to pierce a hole and drain his marrow.
Neither of them was comfortable, but neither was willing to give up. It was as if they were both experiencing a twisted pleasure from the pain and torment. Lin Wan gasped for breath, her eyes drifting to the empty space behind them, her mind flashing with a few words—Become a demon, bewitching a demon.