Chapter 13: Retaliation and Counterretaliation

Back at the hotel.

Lin Ting didn’t follow Shang Moting into his room this time. Just as she was about to leave, he pressed down on the top of her head.

Lin Ting looked at him.

Shang Moting held her head and led her back into the room.

The door closed behind them, and the key card was placed in the slot.

The room lit up.

Shang Moting walked toward the living room, taking a couple of steps before noticing that the person behind him hadn’t moved and was unusually quiet.

He turned around.

In the instant he spun, Lin Ting immediately hugged herself tightly, wearing a wary expression. “What do you want to do? I can scream, you know.”

Shang Moting stared at her for two seconds, then stepped toward her.

Lin Ting watched him approach, expecting him to stop in front of her, but he didn’t.

He took another step forward.

Lin Ting could only retreat one step.

Then Shang Moting took yet another step forward;

Lin Ting could only back up again.

This way, Shang Moting cornered Lin Ting at the door.

Her back pressed against it, with nowhere left to retreat.

Shang Moting stood very close in front of her, yet didn’t touch her anywhere.

A sense of pressure came with him, closing in on her.

Lin Ting looked at him, or rather glared fiercely.

Shang Moting glanced at her small expression, then cupped her chin with his thumb and gently lifted it. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

Lin Ting met his narrow eyes, and after two seconds, the fierce look in her gaze softened into a smile.

Her hand rested on his left chest as she countered, “What do you think you’re going to do?”

Shang Moting lowered his gaze to her hand.

Despite the season’s high temperature, her hand felt somewhat cool.

Through the fabric, he could sense the chill.

A faint smile appeared at the corner of Shang Moting’s mouth as he gripped her hand resting on his chest and pressed it against the door.

Lin Ting was enveloped, completely overshadowed by his presence.

Shang Moting looked down at her.

Their eyes locked; the distance between them seemed to shrink.

The invading aura gradually surrounded her.

Instinctively, Lin Ting tilted her head away, only to be gently turned back by Shang Moting’s hand under her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“You...” Lin Ting began.

“About to say I’m bullying you again?” Shang Moting interrupted.

Lin Ting’s lips moved but she said nothing.

His gaze dropped to her lips, his thumb brushing twice along the side of her face before slowly moving to the corner of her mouth.

The aura was aggressive, the gaze piercing.

Lin Ting felt exposed under his watchful eyes, unable to escape or hide.

His finger moved to the corner of her mouth and, a little further, just touched her lips.

His thumb lightly lifted to hover above her crimson lips.

Lin Ting instinctively tried to pull back.

Her movement caused Shang Moting’s eyelashes to flutter.

He lifted his eyes to meet hers.

In Lin Ting’s eyes was a trace of bewilderment.

As if lost before the unknown.

Shang Moting stepped back, releasing her chin but still holding her wrist tightly, guiding her into the living room.

He stopped by the sofa, letting go of her before placing a hand on her shoulder to help her sit down.

Lin Ting watched him head toward the bedroom.

Not long after, he returned carrying a small box.

Shang Moting sat beside her.

Lin Ting watched him place the box on the coffee table and open it.

Inside were cotton swabs, alcohol, gauze…

A medical kit.

Shang Moting opened the alcohol, dipped a cotton swab in it, and said, “Give me your hand.”

Lin Ting extended her right hand.

He glanced at it and gently tapped it. “That one.”

“Oh.” Lin Ting then extended her other hand.

Shang Moting held her fingertips, turned her hand over, and pressed the alcohol-soaked swab onto the wound on her ring finger.

Lin Ting flinched sharply.

Shang Moting looked at her.

He saw her wide-eyed, stunned expression.

Bewildered, seemingly not understanding what was happening.

Just like that.

One second, two seconds, three seconds passed.

Lin Ting blinked once, twice, thrice.

Then suddenly jerked her hand back.

Shang Moting seemed to anticipate her move; the moment she pulled away, he gripped her wrist tighter.

Quickly, he disinfected the wound on her middle finger.

Lin Ting pounded on Shang Moting’s arm in pain. “Ah! Let go, it hurts!”

But Shang Moting didn’t loosen his grip. He looked at the injury on her hand.

There wasn’t much blood, but the wound didn’t look shallow.

“Ah!” Lin Ting started hitting his arm harder. “It hurts! Murder! This is murder! I’m suing you! I’ll take it all the way to the palace!”

Shang Moting chuckled.

Hearing his laugh, Lin Ting thought she imagined it.

Suddenly, she leaned close in front of him, tilting her head to look at him.

Shang Moting was startled by her sudden closeness, raising his eyebrows.

Lin Ting glared fiercely. “You actually laughed!”

Shang Moting looked at her; any closer and his eyes would lose focus.

He tapped her forehead with his index finger, gently pushing her back. “Sit properly.”

Lin Ting was pushed away but leaned in again to look at him.

Her hand no longer hurt, but still...

“You actually laughed—where’s your conscience?” Lin Ting scolded.

“Conscience? What’s that?” Shang Moting replied.

That one sentence cut off all the words Lin Ting wanted to say next.

“You, you...” Lin Ting frowned.

Shang Moting placed his hand on the top of her head, trying to push her back.

But Lin Ting grabbed his hand, pulling it in front of her, and bit down.

“Hiss—” Shang Moting gasped sharply.

Lin Ting bit near his wrist bone, hard.

Shang Moting frowned; seeing she wouldn’t let go, he pressed his fingers on her jaw but instantly hesitated to use force.

So he waited for Lin Ting to release him.

Once satisfied, Lin Ting let go.

Shang Moting looked at the bite marks near his wrist.

Hard, but no skin broken.

“Does it hurt?” Lin Ting asked.

“What do you think?” Shang Moting answered.

“If it hurts, then good.” Lin Ting raised her eyebrows triumphantly. “You hurt, I laugh. And I’ll laugh louder than you. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha...”

“Keep it down,” Shang Moting said. “If others hear it, they’ll think I bought a faulty robot. It’ll ruin my reputation.”

“What do you mean by that?” Lin Ting asked.

Shang Moting laughed.

Then took another punch from Lin Ting on his arm.

He grabbed Lin Ting’s left hand and wrapped gauze around her wound.

Lin Ting watched as he wrapped, binding two of her fingers together. “??? What’s this supposed to mean?”

“Retaliation,” Shang Moting replied matter-of-factly.

“Childish,” Lin Ting said, looking at her awkwardly bandaged hand.

She pouted.

Not happy.

She looked up, about to retaliate again, when she noticed the wound on Shang Moting’s neck.

She froze for a moment.

Sometimes, she thought Shang Moting had a terrible temper.

His cold expression was intimidating.

But when she hurt him, he said nothing and still helped dress her wounds.

Even if he did it clumsily.

It was truly baffling.