Bus > Urban Romance > Tyrant's Love > Chapter 46: Holding Your Hand

  "You scoundrel! Bandit! You, you, you, dare to rob a civilian woman!" Mu Xingchen tossed Meng Jun onto the passenger seat, and Meng Jun began this tirade of curses.

  Mu Xingchen initially ignored her, but after being scolded by her, he suddenly approached her. His handsome smile was even more captivating under the warm orange-yellow light of the train carriage. The strong pressure made Meng Jun speechless instantly. She stared at his increasingly close face with tension, feeling as if her willpower was gradually leaving her body.

  "Do you know what a rogue is?" Mu Xingchen casually turned on the radio, and a gentle and soothing melody instantly filled the car, the music flowing with the warm light, making this small but cozy car full of a kind of tempting ambiguity.

  Meng Jun really wanted to open her mouth and scold him again, but found that her tongue suddenly became numb. She could only stare blankly at this demon-like man.

  Mu Xingchen stretched out his slender fingers to gently stroke her face, as if stroking a precious work of art in the world. Then he leaned his lips close to her ear, and her round, white earlobe, like being carved from white jade, was so lovely that he couldn't help but lightly peck it. This immediately caused a strong tremor throughout her body.

  "Do you know what a rogue will do to a beautiful girl like you? You don't know how lovely you are! And how tempting!" His damned magnetic voice still echoed in her ears, every sound, every word causing intense tremors in her body, a kind of tremor that was beyond her own subjective control. These tremors made her even more shy and ashamed. How could she be like this? How could she be so shameless?

  Was it going to be ruined by this sinister man, the chastity she had treasured for eighteen years? Two crystal clear tears fell uncontrollably from her cheeks. Like two pearls rolling gently on a white jade plate.

  Mu Xingchen hastily stretched out his hand to catch the two teardrops. He slowly lifted them to his eyes, gazing at the two glittering drops, his heart tightened in vain, and he didn't say anything else. Instead, he sat up straight, focused his attention, and started the car.

  Her tense body, like a bowstring, slowly relaxed as she couldn't help but steal glances at Mu Xingchen's profile while driving. Suddenly, her heart was filled with an exclamation: Oh my god! How can you create a man so perfect?! His full forehead shone like marble, his thick black eyebrows were sharp and angular, the radiance of his eyes could rival any precious gemstone in the world, and those lips... thin yet moist, reminded her of when they had lightly brushed against her earlobe earlier, making her blush and skip a beat.

  What's wrong with her? How could she be fascinated by this sinister man? What kind of person is he - high and mighty, a playboy who toys with people; and what kind of person is she - ordinary and humble, a poor girl from a modest background. Under any circumstances, they would never have had anything to do with each other. His so-called concern and care were just a manifestation of the playboy's inherent curiosity, how could he really fall in love with her? He was just playing around, but why did she have to be forced to be his puppet against her will?

  In today's materialistic era, many girls yearn to be the girlfriend of a wealthy and handsome man, even if it's just for a month or a few days. But that person will never be her - Zhuo Mengjun. This ordinary yet elegant rose should only belong to those boys who agree to an ordinary yet honest life, such as Du Mingfeng.

  Dreaming of you like this, he unknowingly fell asleep.

  Mu Xingchen slightly turned his face and took a glance at her sleeping posture. It was clear that she slept restlessly, her eyebrows still furrowed tightly together. The sight was quite discomforting. Her discomfort also made him feel uneasy.

  Mu Xingchen slowly stopped the car by the side of the road, got out and took a summer quilt from the trunk at the back to gently cover her with it. Seeing that there were still tears on the corners of her eyes, he couldn't help but feel another wave of heartache. He thoughtlessly leaned in to kiss her, his movements extremely gentle, afraid of waking her up from her dreams.

  Her tears were salty, in this life, he had only tasted his own tears and hers. But he felt that her tears were much saltier than his own. When he was young, he had heard his grandmother say that if a person's tears are very salty, it means their heart is very bitter. He sat quietly beside her, feeling his heart ache, eighteen years old! She was only eighteen! Did she already have so much bitterness in her heart?

  He slowly extended his hand, without hesitation, tenderly and tightly grasping her hand in his palm, silently vowing to himself: from now on, he would never let her cry again; even if she did cry, he would turn her tears into sweetness.