Early in the morning, Sandra didn't wait for Arden to pick her up for school. Instead, she took the bus directly to his campus.

However, she wasn't there for Arden. She didn't even know which department he was in, so finding him was out of the question. What she was looking for was Yao.

Some things were better settled sooner rather than later. Her ex-boyfriend had never given her closure, leaving her to fend for herself. But now, she owed Yao an explanation.

Almost all of Yao's classmates knew Sandra. Even before she had agreed to be his girlfriend, Yao had already introduced her to his friends.

Because everyone knew how much Yao liked her, they used to tease him and make jokes, trying to push the two of them together in every way possible. Yao would always downplay their antics with a quiet grin, later telling Sandra that the crowd's matchmaking had nothing to do with him.

When Yao had first announced, "This is my girlfriend," his classmates had seemed even more excited than he was—almost ready to set off fireworks in celebration.

But things could change so quickly. Just a little over two weeks later, she had let down everyone's expectations.

Sandra was lost in her thoughts. Yao's classmates, unaware of the truth, assumed she was upset because of Yao. Some approached her, trying to console her.

"Yao didn't come to class today," one of them said. "When we see him, we'll give him a good talking-to. That brat is off having fun without telling anyone, leaving his girlfriend to worry about him. Don't overthink it. He's so big, who could possibly hurt him?"

Who said big guys couldn't get hurt?

Sandra called Yao, but it was his roommate who answered.

"He just got back," the roommate said. "Looks like he drank a lot, and he's covered in vomit. There's a woman with him."

After hanging up, Sandra immediately made her way to Yao's dormitory. As she entered the building, an Asian woman brushed past her.

The woman had waist-length hair, much like Sandra's, a slender figure, and wore a short red wrap dress paired with black high heels. Her heavy makeup made it hard to determine her exact age.

At first, Sandra didn't think much of her. But while waiting for the elevator, the woman kept staring. Finally, Sandra turned her head and met the gaze.

The woman sized her up, hesitated, and then tentatively called out, "Sandy?"

Sandra froze, her mind racing to place the woman's face, but nothing clicked.

The woman gave a knowing smile, one corner of her mouth lifting. She muttered, "Man," shook her head, and walked away.

Sandra watched her go, confusion creeping into her thoughts. The elevator dinged, pulling her back to reality.

"...Sandra, you're finally here. Did you see that woman? She helped Yao change his clothes and just left," Yao's roommate said as he opened the door for her.

"Oh, it was her?" Sandra bit her lip, an odd sensation stirring in her chest.

Yao's roommate continued chattering, walking down the hallway toward Yao's bedroom. "When Yao came back, I thought that woman was you. From behind, your figures are pretty similar. But when I looked closer, I knew it wasn't you—those crazy makeup vibes. She smelled like trouble. What's going on between you and Yao? How did he end up drinking so much? I've known him for years, and I've never seen him like this. Did you two argue? I mean, couples fight, sure, but this? And that woman—she's clearly not a decent girl..."

"Alright," Sandra interrupted, her tone firm. "I need to spend some time alone with Yao. Go do your thing. Don't waste your precious time."

The roommate mimed zipping his lips, signaling he would be quiet, but he reluctantly wandered off. Moments later, he glanced back over his shoulder. Sandra caught him, and he quickly ducked his head, scurrying away into his room.

The bedroom door wasn't locked. Sandra carefully pushed it open.

Yao lay sprawled on the bed his body covered only by a blanket. A glass of water sat on the bedside table, and a plastic basin rested on the floor. Dirty clothes were piled in the corner, and the room was thick with the sour stench of alcohol and vomit.

Sandra opened the window to let in some fresh air but hesitated, worried that Yao might catch a cold. She fetched another blanket from the closet and gently tucked it over him. Then, she gathered the dirty clothes in a laundry basket and carried them to the bathroom, where she began rinsing them with the shower head.

Meanwhile, Yao's roommate, unable to contain his curiosity, wandered into the kitchen under the pretense of getting water. He grabbed a piece of fruit from the fridge but kept sneaking glances toward the bathroom from the hallway.

When Sandra finished rinsing and threw the clothes into the laundry machine, the roommate crept closer.

"Yao's so lucky to have a beautiful and virtuous girlfriend like you," he said, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

Sandra didn't respond, continuing to lather her hands with soap.

Leaning casually against the bathroom doorframe, he added with a playful tone, "If Yao ever does anything wrong to you, just let me know."

"Why?" Sandra asked coldly, narrowing her eyes at him.

"So I can start pursuing you," he replied with a grin.

Sandra, thoroughly irritated, grabbed the laundry basket and dropped it over his head. "Go cool off somewhere else," she snapped, brushing past him without sparing him another glance.

Satisfied when he stumbled away, Sandra returned to the bedroom. The air had cleared, so she stepped over to close the window.

A shadow loomed behind her just as she reached out. Before Sandra could turn around, Yao had already wrapped his arms around her and, with surprising swiftness, tossed her onto the bed.

"Yao, you're awake," Sandra said, disoriented from the fall. The lingering smell of alcohol in the air made her stomach churn. "Let go of me—please. The window's still open, and in your condition... you'll catch a cold."

Yao, still visibly drunk, stared at her with a dazed, unfocused expression. His eyes roamed over her face, and before she could react, he leaned down and kissed her.

The strong, acrid smell of alcohol on his breath made Sandra's nausea worsen. She pushed against his chest, summoning all her strength to break free. "Yao, stop!"

Her resistance only seemed to enrage him further. Yao froze for a moment his expression darkening before he slapped her across the face, his hand unsteady yet forceful.

"Stupid bitch," he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol. "Pretending to be pure? You're not innocent—I already paid you."

The slap left Sandra's ears ringing, her cheek stinging. Though his words were muddled, the meaning behind them struck her like ice, sending a cold shiver down her spine. That woman from earlier was a prostitute, and it was clear he had confused her with her.

Sandra's shock quickly turned into anger. She retaliated, slapping him back. "Yao, look carefully! I'm Sandra!"

Yao paused, blinking as if trying to process her words. He repeated her name slowly, almost unconsciously, then sneered, his expression twisting with bitterness. "Sandra? It's all the same. Women are all the same. They're all fucking bitches."

This felt different from their usual sparring. It was the first time they had clashed like this outside of the training arena. All the techniques and strategies she had practiced seemed useless against this drunken, unrestrained man.

In the arena, he would always let her win; in life, he would always pamper her—because in his mind, she was meant for him, no one else.

But now, the woman he cherished, the one he had once held in such high regard, had been treated by another man as if she were nothing more than a disposable toy. He was a man too—how could he possibly bear such a thing?

"Rip—" The blanket between them tore as Yao straddled Sandra, pulling her arms behind her back.

"Yao, don't do this..."

Sandra writhed like a fish on a chopping block, arching her back in a desperate attempt to turn over.

Yao effortlessly kept her in place, pinning her thigh with his calf as he sat comfortably on her lap. With one hand securing her arms, the other leisurely bound her wrists.

"Yao, it's me, Sandra..." She tried to snap him out of it, hoping he wasn't as drunk as he seemed.

But once he finished tying her wrists, he pressed a firm hand against her back, forcing her upper body down. His weight shifted lower as his other hand moved to tug at her jeans.

"Yao, don't do this... cough, cough..." Sandra's face was buried in the blanket, her ribs aching under his weight as she struggled to breathe.

His hand wrapped around her waist and probed to the front to undo her button and zipper, then grabbed the back of her jeans and pulled them down, along with her panties.

The button of her jeans brushed against her belly, stranding her in pain. The cool air from the window blew across her exposed skin, sending a shiver through her.

A large, warm hand rubbed her butt gently with a sense of appreciation—perfectly peach-shaped buttocks with an incredible feel to the touch.

"Yao, I'm Sandra... Yao, wake up..."

The hand pressing down on her released, and Sandra flopped on the mattress, her voice growing louder and more urgent.

Someone knocked on the door, and Yao's roommate called from outside, "Yao, is everything okay?"

Yao didn't answer, burying his head in his own business.

The door suddenly clicked open, and Sandra screamed, "Get out!"

"Sorry, sorry! You guys carry on!" The roommate, hearing Sandra's strange scream, thought Yao had fainted or vomited or something, caught only a brief glimpse before hastily backing away.

Sandra stopped yelling, twisting her body in an attempt to break free from the restraints on her wrists. But the cloth was tied too tightly, digging into her skin and restricting circulation. Her fingers began to swell, throbbing with each pulse as the blood flow was cut off.

"He wasn't lying to me," Yao murmured, his voice distant, almost as if speaking in a dream. "You really are an incomparable beauty."

Sandra blinked. "What?"

Yao didn't answer but suddenly leaned down toward her. His bare abdomen brushed against her hands, while a fiery erection pressed on her butt.

Sandra was startled by the unexpected heat and firmness, her muscles tensing instinctively as a wave of unease coursed through her. Tears were about to spill over as her voice trembled, "Yao, please, don't..."

Yao tilted his head, locking eyes with her, carefully surveying her expression. "Why? Why are you asking me to stop? Why was it okay with him but not with me?"

Why had it been okay with that man but not with this one?

Sandra had no answer. All she knew was that, in this moment, her body was honestly expressing its resistance.

Her already loose ponytail was grabbed in his hand, and her scalp stung with pain as he forced her to tilt her head back. He buried his head and bared his teeth against her neck.

"Ah..."

He bit down on her neck and wouldn't let go, as if he were trying to break it. Luckily, there was only muscle where his teeth sank in, or she would have been genuinely afraid that her veins might burst or her windpipe might collapse.

He released her and leaned back slightly, admiring his work and smiling in satisfaction. Then, he leaned forward again, licked her wound, and whispered in her ear, "If... he knew... I slept with you... would his interest in you... be gone?"

One thing was certain—Yao was awake. And as long as he was awake, there was still hope.

"Yao, don't do this. Don't ruin our friendship."

Yao sucked hard on the skin of her shoulder, leaving one purple mark after another, and couldn't help but laugh out loud when he heard her words.

"Do you think we can still be friends after what happened?"

Sandra fell silent. Deep down, she had clung to a fragile hope—that with a sincere conversation and an apology, they could go back to the way things were. They could still train together, share meals, tease each other over trivial things, and laugh like old friends.

But she had been so, so wrong.

The moment she kissed him that night, their friendship unraveled. In its place remained only the fragile thread of intimacy between a man and a woman—the most delicate bond in the world. And she had never once considered how to nurture or protect it.

There wasn't any fancy foreplay—not because Yao didn't know how, but because he felt there was no longer a need to deliberately please this woman.

Foreplay was for women. Men didn't need it.

For the first time, Sandra realized that sexual intercourse wasn't always pleasant. That man had spoiled her.

She clenched her fists and bit her lip, feeling like an autumn leaf—dry, fragile, and recklessly torn to pieces by him.

Yao felt her body tremble and stopped moving. She wept in pain, and a sharp ache tightened in his chest. He wasn't as cruel as he had convinced himself to be.

He kissed her shoulder, his lips lingering on the marks he had intentionally left behind—marks that, in his mind, somehow claimed her as his.

She was his now, wasn't she? Just as he had imagined a thousand times.

But why—why did he feel no happiness, no excitement?

Was this, forcing her like this, really what he had wanted all along?

Even though part of him longed to strangle her, to take revenge, to hurt her—was that truly his intention?

Sandra noticed his disheveled state and the way he flinched. Slowly, she relaxed her muscles, collapsing onto the bed as she panted heavily.

The air was thick with the scent of alcohol, sweat, adrenaline, and blood—almost suffocating—until the sharp ring of her cell phone sliced through the silence.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

If you like my story, please add it to your book list and remember to vote! Your support is my motivation!