Plunder and Possession
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Winter days were short, and nights were long. Before seven o’clock, the sky had already darkened.
One by one, neon lights flickered in the night sky, like schools of colorful tropical fish.
In the shifting glow of the flashing lights, Zhou Jiao raised her hand, wrapped her arms around Jiang Lian’s neck, and playfully blinked her eyelashes at him.
Jiang Lian’s expression was rigid and cold. It was as if he hadn’t heard her question at all—he remained silent for a long time.
Zhou Jiao glanced at the dagger on the ground, a trace of regret in her eyes.
She knew that the dagger couldn’t hurt him.
Even if he willingly exposed his body, presenting his heart to the blade, the final outcome would still be the same—the blade would corrode into a puddle of sticky matter.
He was simply that powerful.
A higher lifeform was not merely defined by a long lifespan or immense strength. Many parts of his body transcended human understanding of the microscopic world.
The so-called “gods” might, at times, simply be lifeforms from another dimension.
She had understood long ago that his contempt for humanity did not stem from emotion but was based on an immutable law of nature.
In other words, it was like the relationship between humans and ants.
You could tell others that you didn’t look down on ants, but did you truly care about the life of a single ant?
Would you really adopt an ant’s thought process to analyze and speculate on its behavior?
Other than entomologists who study ants, would an ordinary person ever go that far?
Moreover, even an entomologist wouldn’t care about the life and death of a single ant—compared to individuals, entomologists are far more concerned with the survival of an entire species or colony. The fate of a single ant is irrelevant to them.
Yet Jiang Lian’s attention toward her was gradually breaking free from the constraints of natural law.
Zhou Jiao remembered very clearly—at the beginning, even though he harbored an unnatural craving for her, she was absent from his eyes.
—He would greedily and obsessively sniff her scent, suckle her saliva as if possessed, yet never truly see her.
That was normal. When you eat, you don’t examine every grain of rice to see if it is plump and round.
But at some point, his eyes had become fixated on her, unable to look away.
Perhaps it was because she had escaped from his parasitism, surviving by a thread.
Perhaps it was because, multiple times, she had slipped from the sudden bursts of his murderous intent.
Or perhaps, after she had left him for three days, he experienced a certain uncontrollable withdrawal reaction.
Sometimes, withdrawal symptoms didn’t necessarily require addictive substances. Becoming accustomed to someone’s presence and then losing them could trigger a similar reaction.
Zhou Jiao wasn’t sure how long such withdrawal symptoms would last in Jiang Lian, nor was she certain if he possessed the capacity for affection—but she could blur the distinction between the two.
At night, Yucheng was even brighter than at any moment during the day, like a glass artwork illuminated by colorful lights.
Neon lights flickered in the puddles on the street.
Zhou Jiao tilted her head up to look at Jiang Lian, the smile on her face never so sweet and alluring.
She seemed to see the rope tightening, little by little, around the beast’s neck.
It was as if the beast had sensed the impending crisis—its cold-blooded, terrifying gaze bore into her, struggling violently, as if it would pounce on her in the very next second.
But in the end, the beast stopped resisting, allowing the rope to remain tightly bound around its throat.
At this point, she should have stopped.
She should have remembered—Jiang Lian was dangerous, unknown, and uncontrollable.
She had always been aware of this and never intended to develop any unnecessary, bizarre entanglement with him.
Yet the moment she realized she could tighten the rope around his neck even further, her emotions stirred with excitement, and all hesitation was cast aside.
She smiled, staring fixedly at Jiang Lian, making no effort to conceal the malice in her eyes.
—Why do you care so much about me?
—To you, am I not just a tiny, insignificant ant?
Why would you be so desperate to protect an ant?
Seeing that Jiang Lian remained silent, she softly repeated her question:
“Jiang Lian, could it be that you’ve fallen for me?”
Jiang Lian’s expression grew even colder.
His first instinct was to ask, What is ‘liking’? Why would I ‘like’ her?
But almost immediately, the knowledge system of “Jiang Lian” supplied an answer:
Liking is a form of love, and love is a complex phenomenon shaped by social factors, integrating physiological, psychological, and subjective emotions.
From a biological perspective, emotions like “liking” are more akin to chemical reactions, driven by various hormones and neurotransmitters, primarily adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin.
In recent years, numerous studies have suggested that chips can simulate emotions akin to love in the human brain by regulating neuronal electrical activity.
However, aside from hormones and neurotransmitters, whether love can develop between individuals depends on the specific social context, which is why this theory remains controversial.
Jiang Lian looked at Zhou Jiao, the corners of his lips curling slightly, as if he wanted to laugh.
Since his existence began, he had never encountered another of his kind.
Human sociological theories and evolutionary principles had no application to him.
If he had not been forced into the human dimension, humans would not even be able to perceive his existence.
Because he was immortal and indestructible, he had once been revered as a god. Countless religious sects had formed around him. Yet anyone who attempted to comprehend his existence inevitably fell into extraordinary fear, delirium, and madness—just as ants could never fathom the existence of humans.
A single ant colony was required to carry a tiny sugar cube, whereas a human needed only a finger to crush them all.
If ants were aware of human existence, would they find everything meaningless? Would they see life itself as a joke?
He was to humans what humans were to ants.
And yet, she actually believed he could like her?
Jiang Lian coldly said, “I will not like anything.”
He was incapable of experiencing “liking.”
Once he left the body of “Jiang Lian,” he would not even have a special reaction to her scent.
“You’re delusional.” His voice was as cold as ice, looking down at her from above. “I will not like you.”
Had his eyes not clung to her like damp, sticky mucus as he said those words, perhaps they would have been more convincing.
Zhou Jiao had only meant to tease him—if she could make him uncomfortable, all the better. But Jiang Lian’s reaction exceeded her expectations.
Could this monster… really have developed feelings for her?
A sharp alarm rang in her mind—whatever a monster’s “liking” entailed, it certainly wouldn’t be filled with protection or devotion the way human affection was.
If he liked her, his desire for her might become even more terrifying, more twisted, more deranged. He might even come to see her as food.
Her mind raced at an unprecedented speed, every cell in her body screaming at her to stop deceiving Jiang Lian.
She could not afford his “liking.”
Her situation was already dire enough; she shouldn’t be placing herself in an even worse predicament.
And yet, despite every instinct warning her otherwise, she raised her injured hand and softly asked, “Do you really not like me?”
Jiang Lian’s gaze dropped to her hand. He remained silent for a long moment before finally spitting out three words, ice-cold:
“I do not.”
Zhou Jiao knew, rationally, that this was the moment to stop. She absolutely could not push this any further.
But impulse drove her to press against the wound in her palm, forcing the cut open, letting thick, crimson blood drip freely.
She asked again, “Really? You don’t like me?”
At that moment, the fevered hunger in Jiang Lian’s eyes made her shudder.
For a few seconds, she even thought something might emerge from his eye sockets—writhing appendages, frantic and starved, desperate to devour her flesh and blood.
She really couldn’t continue this any further.
That was what she thought—yet, as if possessed, she lifted her hand to her lips and, right before his eyes, licked the wound.
Her mouth was instantly soaked with the taste of blood, a wisp of white mist curling from her lips—the scalding heat of her blood meeting the cold air.
Jiang Lian stared at her, cold and motionless, but his nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply, drawing in the breath she exhaled.
The more he breathed in, the more something surged beneath his eyes—countless engorged tendrils rising from the depths of his gaze, as insatiable greed took over his expression.
His pupils had never once left her, as though his stare alone could tear her apart and devour her whole. Yet when he finally spoke, his voice was eerily calm, devoid of any emotion:
“I do not like you. I will not like you.”
Zhou Jiao tilted her head up and kissed him.
The thick scent of blood lingered between their lips and teeth.
Even as he kept repeating that he would not like her, the moment their lips met, he swallowed greedily, mouthful after mouthful.
Perhaps because he was too powerful, he had never concealed his instincts or desires.
If he craved her scent, he would inhale it madly.
If he hungered for her saliva, he would devour it without restraint.
If he wanted to look at her, he would never take his eyes off her.
If he wanted her to live, he would leap from a building with her in his arms without hesitation—even if it meant exposing his weaknesses—just to envelop her within his body.
His obsession with her was so blatant.
And yet, bound by the laws of nature, he insisted that he would never like her.
The way he looked at her made Zhou Jiao want to… tease him.
Even if this teasing would cost her life.
The impulse that had once disappeared now surged through her five viscera and six bowels, clamoring restlessly.
She wanted to see this omnipotent “god” lose his lofty composure.
She wanted to see those indifferent eyes, which disregarded all things, become filled with heavy desire, lowly, restless, and unable to find peace.
Zhou Jiao slid her fingers into his hair and deepened the kiss.
She kissed him with practiced ease—whenever he followed the scent of her breath and pressed down hard against her lips, trying to devour her saliva with maddening hunger, she would seize his hair and forcibly wrench him away.
But just when his eyes started to clear from their feverish obsession, she would tilt her head up and kiss him again, holding his tongue between her lips and feeding him her saliva.
It was a kiss so thick and sticky that it seemed like fine, wet threads could be drawn between their lips.
Time seemed to slow down.
Jiang Lian felt an unbearable torment.
At some point, a fine drizzle began to fall from the sky.
Her lips and tongue, drenched in cold raindrops, were scalding to the touch.
Jiang Lian could not drown, yet at this moment, he experienced the agony of a drowning man—for every time he sank into the depths of her kiss, she would grab his hair and tear him away. Then, just as his rationality returned, she would kiss him again, dragging him back into the abyss.
This teasing closeness, then abrupt distance, was driving him insane.
More than once, he wanted to use his appendages to bind her wrists, to return her kiss without restraint, to devour her completely. Yet when he met her provocative gaze, he forcefully suppressed the impulse.
Her eyes seemed to say: Are you really going to kiss me?
Didn’t you say you don’t like me?
So you can’t hide it anymore?
Jiang Lian stared at her icily, his eyes dark and bottomless, filled with chilling, ruthless killing intent, as if he wanted to gouge out those provocative eyes—before kissing her without a care.
He could have done it.
But in the end, he remained motionless, allowing her to kiss him again and again, only to leave him just as many times.
For the final time, she did not kiss him.
Instead, she met his gaze, their noses brushing, and exhaled lightly against his lips.
The rain mist blurred her features, and her eyes seemed to be tinged with a moist, sweet haze.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he involuntarily inhaled the breath she exhaled.
At this point, what more was there to say?
Even if he denied it ten thousand times, as long as she exhaled a single breath, he would swallow it down without hesitation.
Zhou Jiao wrapped one arm around his neck while the other pressed against his Adam’s apple, feeling the rise and fall of his throat.
Her eyes and actions all said the same thing: You’ve really fallen for me.
But her lips spoke differently. “Alright, you don’t like me. Then you wouldn’t mind if I kissed someone else, would you?”
Jiang Lian didn’t even register what she had said.
Because just as the words left her lips, she kissed him again—lightly, fleetingly, then pulled away.
After countless clashes like this, his rationality had been worn down to its last thread, his hunger for her reaching a terrifying peak.
If someone were to measure his body with medical instruments at this moment, they would find that his heart rate, body temperature, and neural activity had already exceeded the limits of what a human body could withstand.
One more kiss, and he would be utterly defeated, beyond recovery.
But Zhou Jiao didn’t kiss him again.
Instead, she cast her gaze around and spotted a bar not far away. Its back entrance was cluttered with beer bottles and plastic garbage bags. Several men were there, lurking in the shadows, preying on unconscious girls—waiting for the drunk to collapse so they could carry them away to a motel.
The night had only just fallen, yet some men were already there, crouching like vultures over their chosen victims.
At that moment, a girl staggered out from the bar’s back door, barely able to keep herself upright. Just as she was about to collapse, a man swiftly stepped in, half-forcing her into his arms and preparing to take her away.
Before he could, Zhou Jiao intercepted him.
The man thought she was interfering and sneered. A crude “Get lost” was just about to spill from his lips when he saw her smile—sweet, sultry, intoxicating.
“Excuse me,” she said softly, “can I kiss you?”
Under the massive neon advertising tower, her cold, striking features resembled a white camellia—pure yet dazzlingly seductive. The man was instantly mesmerized, his mind going blank. Without thinking, he nodded, loosening his hold on the drunken girl.
Zhou Jiao tilted her head, curling her finger to beckon him closer.
Just as the man was about to step forward, the next second—
A crushing force, as if he had been hit by a multi-ton truck, slammed into him. His entire body was flung backward, soaring through the air before crashing into the brick wall at the alley’s end with an earth-shattering impact.
The air turned frigid, and an eerie chill spread across the surroundings.
The drunken girl sobered instantly, shuddering as she stumbled away.
Horns blared wildly on the road. Drivers, witnessing the surreal scene, were left dumbfounded. Above, a police drone zoomed over, scanning the area for signs of an accident.
Zhou Jiao turned back, feigning surprise as she looked at Jiang Lian. “What’s this? I thought you didn’t like me?”
She had to admit—at the moment her gaze met Jiang Lian’s, a bone-chilling fear crept up from the depths of her soul.
His expression was dark and oppressive, his eyes bloodshot, veins writhing violently within them. It was as if two opposing forces were colliding within him, tearing him apart. His face twisted into something utterly inhuman.
Under her skillful provocation, his emotions had piled up, layer upon layer, until they finally burst forth like a dam collapsing under a flood.
At that moment, Zhou Jiao could no longer ignore the instinctual alarm screaming in her mind. A shiver ran through her, and she instinctively took a step back.
Everything happened within half a second, like a slow-motion film sequence.
As Zhou Jiao retreated, a fissure suddenly cracked open across Jiang Lian’s body. From within the churning rain and darkness, something lashed out—an appendage, swift and unstoppable, hurtling toward her.
He still didn’t believe he had fallen for her.
But he knew—plundering and possessing.
This creature before him—she had to be his.
He did not like her.
But he had to have her.