My Arch-Nemesis is the R-Rated Male Lead - Chapter 41

Zhou Li’s voice brushed against her ear like a devil’s whisper, and Lu Rong’s heart gave a sharp jolt.

She tilted her eyes slightly and caught sight of Zhou Li—handsome enough to eclipse every other face in the room.

If she had been holding anything remotely proper, she would have taken her time admiring that face.

But at that moment, the paintbrush in her hand was poised to travel down the painted man’s V-line, drifting toward areas far less appropriate.

For a split second, she couldn’t decide whether to cover her drawing—or Zhou Li’s eyes.

In the end, possessed by some rogue impulse, she lifted the drawing and blocked his view.

Zhou Li: “……”

Lu Rong: “……”

The drawing suddenly felt scorching hot. Lu Rong yanked it back and crumpled it into a ball, the tips of her ears burning red. “Anyway, it’s not you!”

“Oh.” Zhou Li didn’t know how he could tell it wasn’t himself, but his expression cooled noticeably. Straightening, he swept his gaze over the men nearby—smiling, flattering, pouring drinks. “So who is it, then?”

As he spoke, his eyes landed on a man off to the side, feeding wine mouth-to-mouth to a woman. “You like that sort?”

His gaze dropped to Lu Rong’s lips.

Flustered, she hurriedly pressed them together. “Who says I like it! I’m just here to drink! Stop talking nonsense!”

Zhou Li, of course, knew exactly what kind of person Lu Rong was—she had both desire and the nerve to indulge it.

Coming to a place like this, she must have been secretly delighted.

And she had been—right up until she saw Zhou Li.

Now that she had, she could only think one thing: I’m done for.

Zhou Li was possessive by nature—he was probably already figuring out how to deal with her.

Her gaze flicked toward the top of his head, and sure enough, she saw five glaring yellow hearts pounding violently.

Clearly, he was already so angry that he wanted to fry her alive.

What a pervert.

Lu Rong clenched her small hand. For the sake of her fragile little body, she decided she’d better find a way to coax Zhou Li first—at the very least, coax him down to a single yellow heart.

Seeing him still looking at her with that half-smiling expression, she reached out and tugged on his sleeve. “I really did just come here to drink.”

She tried her best to make her eyes look sincere and innocent. When he remained unmoved, she gently shook his hand. “You don’t believe me either?”

Zhou Li ruthlessly pulled his sleeve back. “Don’t act cute.”

Though his expression remained unpleasant, he still sat down beside her, his face calm and unreadable.

Lu Rong immediately scooted closer, playing the obedient one. “Besides, look at these people—none of them is as good-looking as you.”

She propped her chin on her hand and stared at him with wide eyes, her finger restlessly poking his arm.

Zhou Li lowered his gaze indifferently. Catching sight of his own reflection in her pupils, even knowing she was deliberately trying to placate him, he still couldn’t help feeling his mood ease a little.

Yet he showed none of it. He only turned his head slightly, which annoyed Lu Rong to no end.

She reached out and pressed his face toward her. “Did you even hear what I said?”

“No.”

“Then forget it.” She hadn’t expected him to be this irritating. Lu Rong kicked him and sat back in her original seat, deciding she would never try to sweet-talk this dog again.

Watching from a distance, Qiu Ling sensed the tension and hurried over with a jug of wine. Smiling at Zhou Li across from her, she called out, “Venerable Jian, what brings you here?”

“She asked me to come.” Zhou Li answered flatly, leaving Lu Rong suddenly at a loss for words.

Especially with Qiu Ling staring at her, clearly waiting for gossip.

“He’s here because I needed him.” Lu Rong shot Zhou Li a warning look. “You’d better not talk nonsense.”

“What nonsense?” Zhou Li shot back.

Lu Rong fell silent. The nonsense he could spout—there was simply too much of it.

In the end, she muttered, “You said I’m afraid of you.”

“You’re not afraid?” Zhou Li looked at her with amusement. To avoid him, she’d even run to a place like this.

Lu Rong sprang to her feet, ready to punch him, but Qiu Ling hurriedly grabbed her, poured her a cup of wine, and shoved it into her hand. “Drink, drink! Don’t stoop to arguing with the Venerable Jian. I ordered a wine attendant to keep you company.”

At that, Zhou Li’s pitch-black eyes shifted to Qiu Ling.

Qiu Ling immediately felt a chill creep up her neck. But curiosity got the better of her—and with Lu Rong backing her up, she chose to court death anyway. She stood and called out to the waiter, “Where’s the wine attendant I ordered?”

“Coming right away,” the man replied quickly.

Sure enough, before Qiu Ling even had time to take a sip to steady herself, a man approached—cool-featured, a long flute in hand.

He wore a veil, his beauty like flowers glimpsed through mist.

Lu Rong couldn’t help but look twice. Then a bone-piercing chill swept over her.

She turned and met Zhou Li’s gaze, cleared her throat, and calmly took a sip of her wine.

The wine tasted excellent—light, not heavy, with a hint of fruity sweetness.

After drinking, she lightly licked her lips, leaving them flushed and moist.

Zhou Li didn’t usually drink, but seeing the wine Qiu Ling had poured, he didn’t refuse. His peripheral vision lingered on Lu Rong’s lips as he took a shallow sip, the fragrance of wine filling his mouth.

So this was the taste inside her mouth right now.

With that thought, Zhou Li drained the cup in one go, the mellow richness spreading across his tongue.

Perhaps it was no longer simply sweet.

It was the first time Lu Rong had seen Zhou Li drink—especially seeing a drop of wine slip from the corner of his lips, slide along his throat, and disappear beneath his collar.

Her throat moved unconsciously.

Zhou Li truly lived up to his demon nature—a smoldering little serpent.

The wine attendant stepped up to the table, bowed, and asked gently, “May I ask which of the three ordered A’Wu to drink together?”

Lu Rong looked at Qiu Ling in bewilderment.

“The wine attendants here only serve one person,” Qiu Ling explained—entirely on purpose. Pointing at Lu Rong, she added, “Tonight, you’ll serve her.”

Lu Rong hurriedly waved her hand. “No need.”

But the man merely smiled gently. “It would be my honor.”

As he moved to sit beside Lu Rong, she instinctively looked toward Zhou Li.

Zhou Li’s gaze fixed on A’Wu, the chilling menace in his eyes sharp enough to wound.

Lu Rong sensed disaster coming. Sure enough, when she looked up, the yellow hearts above Zhou Li’s head jumped from five to six—then even seven.

Ah—this is bad, bad! 

He’s definitely thinking about frying her to death over and over again now.

Trembling, she blurted out to A’Wu, “I’ll drink by myself!” She hugged the wine jug, poured herself a cup, downed it, then said, “You can keep her company instead.”

She pointed at Qiu Ling.

It was the first time Qiu Ling had ever seen Lu Rong this tense. Amused, she asked, “Why do I feel like you’re nervous the way someone gets when they’re caught cheating?”

Lu Rong: “???” 

She really had a way with words.

If someone were to drink with her now, Zhou Li would probably actually kill her.

The more she thought about it, the more Lu Rong felt it was safest to leave first. She quickly pressed a hand to her forehead. “Qiu Ling, I think I’ve had a bit too much. I’m going back to rest.”

As she spoke and tried to stand, a hand clasped her wrist first.

The cold grip around her wrist felt like a restraint, and her steps came to a dead halt.

She bit her lip and looked at him. Zhou Li noticed the small gesture and knew she was scared.

He didn’t press further. Instead, he tugged her lightly toward him and looked straight at her. “Why are you running?”

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“I said I’m not afraid of you.” Lu Rong was so angry she wanted to bite him—her little tiger teeth showing, making her look like a ferocious little cat.

“If that’s the case, then there’s no harm in having a few more drinks before you leave.” Zhou Li was speaking to her, but his gaze was fixed on A’Wu.

Caught by that look, A’Wu didn’t dare raise his head. The more nervous he became, the more mistakes he made. He reached for the wine jug to pour for Lu Rong—only to lose his grip. The jug fell and shattered completely.

Startled, Lu Rong instinctively leaned toward Zhou Li, her shoulder brushing against his.

Zhou Li immediately heard her thoughts.

[Is he also trying that transparent-clothes trick?]

[If it splashed all over Zhou Li’s face, that’d actually look pretty good.]

[Next time, let me do the splashing!]

While Lu Rong muttered away in her head, A’Wu had already called someone over to clean up.

One of the original three jugs of wine was ruined. The wine attendant left in disgrace, having never been of use.

Watching A’Wu go, Lu Rong finally let out a long breath and relaxed.

She lifted her cup and took a drink. Just as she was about to stop, Zhou Li raised his own. “Not bad at holding your liquor.”

That praise prompted Lu Rong to drink another cup. She even lifted her chin proudly. “Of course!”

Zhou Li curled his lips slightly, took a sip, and watched as Lu Rong—spurred on by his praise—finished an entire jug of wine.

He knew her tolerance well. When she drained the last cup and her gaze turned hazy, he knew she was drunk.

“You’re drunk, Lu Rong,” he called her name.

“Hm?” She bit her lip and looked at him. Perhaps she couldn’t see clearly anymore—she braced herself on the table, walked straight up to him, and nearly shoved her face right into his.

“You’re so pretty.”

The light, sweet scent of wine enveloped Zhou Li, his fingertips trembling slightly.

He didn’t reach for her, didn’t even furrow his brows—only looked at her and reminded her again, calmly, “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not,” Lu Rong shook her head. “I’m perfectly clear-headed.”

As she spoke, she leaned right into his face. Zhou Li tried to pull back, but she cupped his cheeks in both hands.

“Zhou Li… no one is better-looking than you.”

As if remembering something, she hummed softly, leaned close to his ear, and repeated it—deliberately louder this time. “You’re the best-looking! Did you hear me?”

“Mm.” Zhou Li had clearly heard that. A quiet laugh escaped him.

He was just about to speak when she suddenly froze—and then tears spilled from her eyes.

His heart tightened. He wiped her tears away with his thumb. “Why are you crying?”

Lu Rong wrapped an arm around his shoulder, slumping fully against him, her voice thick with drunkenness. “I feel awful.”

“Where does it hurt?” he asked, worried.

“I want to sleep with a man. Just for one night.”

Zhou Li: “……”

Now, she was completely drunk, her words disjointed. After blurting it out, she pouted, tilted her head back to look above him, and pressed her palm down on his head.

“And you’re not allowed to show seven yellow hearts. And you’re not allowed to think about fucking me senseless every day!”

Zhou Li looked at her in silence.

Seven yellow hearts? Is that all she can see?

Watching her sway as she tried to stand, he reached out, wrapped an arm around her slender waist, and pulled her firmly into his embrace.

“Your chest is rubbing against mine,” Lu Rong muttered in a soft, coquettish complaint.

Zhou Li wasn’t drunk—but the tips of his ears reddened all the same.

Holding her in his arms, he said to Qiu Ling, who had just walked over, “She’s drunk. I’ll take her back to rest.”

With that, he carried Lu Rong away.

Qiu Ling, still holding a plate of pastries, blinked. “…I haven’t even said where she’s staying yet?”

These two really did seem suspicious.

Zhou Li genuinely didn’t know where Lu Rong was staying. He casually picked a decent inn, booked a room, and brought the drunken woman inside.

He knew she became especially clingy when drunk. Setting her down by the bed, he said, “Lie down if you feel uncomfortable.”

Instead, she looked up at him—her eyes, glazed from drink, unusually bright and watery, fixed on him with an unmistakable allure.

Zhou Li found himself seriously considering how likely it was that he could resist taking advantage of the situation.

Lu Rong called out first. “Zhou Li…”

His throat dry, he took a sip of tea. “Mm?”

Her gaze stayed locked on his lips. She stepped closer, rose onto her tiptoes, and leaned toward him.

Her lips parted slightly—red lips, white teeth, a glimpse of scarlet tongue—an allure that seemed utterly natural.

Zhou Li froze.

Then he heard her ask softly, almost plaintively,

“Can’t we kiss today?”