Transmigrated into the body of a tycoon's spoiled ex-girlfriend

Her skirt got caught on a thorny vine, but she was oblivious, reaching out to grab the most beautiful red rose.

She hissed as her fingertip was pricked, but she stubbornly broke it off, held it up to her eyes and looked at it again and again, her eyes crinkling with laughter.

"Rong She!" she called out his name, her voice echoing through the empty manor.

The night wind scattered her voice, then gathered it again, carrying it wave after wave to very, very far places.

Rong She was standing three steps behind her.

"This flower is so pretty," she said, picking another one.

This time it's a flower with petals that are almost black at the edges, a velvety texture, and a dark sheen under the moonlight.

She held it up to her eyes, tilted her head to look at it for two seconds, nodded in satisfaction, and stuffed it into the messy bunch of flowers in her arms.

The rose bush she just pulled up is called "Black Lady," a variety imported from France, and its cost price is around 50,000 yuan per plant.

Rong She did not disturb her enjoyment.

He stood there, against the moonlight, the manor lights spilling over from behind him, enveloping him in a hazy glow.

His facial expression was indistinct, but his superior bone structure was sculpted by light and shadow into a deep silhouette. His eyelids were half-closed, and his gaze was fixed on a girl crouching in the flower bushes not far away.

She crouched in the sea of ​​roses, holding up a withered flower and smiling at him, like a little fairy who had just emerged from the sea, her whole body wet with moonlight, drunk and oblivious to the world around her.

He stood there silently, waiting for her to come over.

"Rongshe," she called again, then stood up unsteadily, a few flowers falling from her arms.

She wasn't standing straight; she was like a blade of grass bent by the wind, leaning slightly backward.

Then she beckoned to him with her finger, the movement slow and deliberate, her index finger curling and relaxing unexpectedly alluring.

Rong She walked over, then stopped in front of her, looking down at her.

Ke Miantang is indeed not tall, barely reaching his chin. When he looks up at him, the curve of his chin is so round and cute that you want to pinch it.

Suddenly, Ke Miantang poked his chest with the flower stem, petals falling softly onto his clothes, until only a bare stem remained stuck in his chest.

"Rong She," she called his full name, her voice louder than usual.

He looked down at the petals that had fallen on his clothes; the dark fabric contrasted with the scattered red petals, like a dangerous metaphor.

Then he raised his eyes, slowly looking into her misty eyes, patiently waiting for her to continue.

"While I'm still your girlfriend," she wrinkled her nose coquettishly, pursing her lips in dissatisfaction, "you're not allowed to talk to other women, at least, at least not for another six months."

She hiccuped, her voice softening with a dejected tone: "Six months from now, you can talk to whoever you want, I don't care anymore."

After saying that, he nodded to himself to make sure he was right.

Half a year.

Rong She frowned slightly, noticing the specific deadline.

Why did she say half a year instead of forever, or three or five years, or even one year? All of those would be more reasonable than this precise number.

Six months sounds like a pre-set timeframe, a predetermined deadline.

"Aa ...

A sharp scream exploded in Ke Miantang's mind. The system was frantically jumping around in her sea of ​​consciousness, calling out her name as if it wanted to rush out of her skull and cover her mouth.

"Stop talking! Please stop!! Rong She has already noticed, didn't you see his expression?!"

"You're so noisy," Ke Miantang muttered under her breath, wrinkling her nose. "Shut up."

system:……

Then two lines of regretful tears streamed down his face.

It’s over.

It's all over.

That's Rong She, the male lead whose deep thoughts send chills down your spine.

He could even keenly grasp the meaning of words like "half a year," and if you keep thinking about it, the entire transmigration mission is going to collapse.

How did it end up with such an idiot host!

The smile had vanished from Rong She's face; his eyes narrowed slightly, and his gaze fell deeply on her face.

But he didn't ask anything.

She was so drunk that she was completely defenseless and drunk, and even if you pressed her for answers, you wouldn't get anything out of her.

Ke Miantang received no response for a long time, and in her impatience, she stomped her foot on the ground, swayed slightly, and instinctively grabbed his arm, her hand reaching up to grasp the fabric of his sleeve, her voice drawn out: "You, hurry, answer, me, please..."

Rong She suddenly lowered his eyes and chuckled softly, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

At this moment, all his aloofness and restraint shattered completely, revealing the obsessive desire beneath that could crush a person to the bone.

"Okay, you will always be my only woman."

Ke Miantang was satisfied.

The way to satisfy someone is to climb all over them.

Her heels lifted off the ground, her hands clung to his shoulders like a cat clinging to a tree, her skirt rode up a bit, revealing a section of her gleaming white calves.

She clung to him and wouldn't move, burying her face in the crook of his neck, her warm breath hitting the skin next to his Adam's apple.

Rong She paused for a second, then grabbed her waist with one hand and lifted her up.

Her legs wrapped around it, the hem of her skirt billowing up to reveal more of her delicate skin.

His hand sank into the soft flesh of her waist, his fingers tightening slightly.

Ke Miantang hummed in a daze, snuggled closer to him, her nose brushing against his collarbone, her lips grazing the small patch of skin peeking out from his shirt collar, and unconsciously mumbled something.

He didn't hear clearly, nor did he need to.

Moonlight fell on his profile; his eyelids were half-closed, and his eyelashes cast a fan-shaped shadow beneath his eyes.

Rong She stared expressionlessly at the unconscious little thing in his arms, his lips taut and his Adam's apple bobbing.

Then he started walking towards the manor, the lights illuminating the main house as he went.

His figure was stretched out long, and the lines of his shoulders and back were faintly visible as he walked. Ke Miantang was as light as a cotton candy in his arms, the kind that melts in your mouth.

His hands held her steadily, his knuckles sinking into the soft flesh of her knees. With each step she took, her body slid down a little, and he would bounce her up to pull her back into his arms.

This process repeated itself, and Ke Miantang, her nose touching his Adam's apple, muttered, "Rong She, you're so hard."

He paused for a moment, then continued walking forward.

As they entered the main house, the servants lowered their eyes, none daring to look at them for long.

He casually stuck the tattered rose into the vase in the entryway.

-

Ke Miantang's first thought upon waking was how soft it was.

The blankets were soft, the pillows were soft, even the air was soft.

She rolled around in bed a couple of times in a daze, her pale yellow nightgown wrapped around her legs, revealing a section of her fair and tender calves.

Then consciousness returned.

Ke Miantang suddenly opened her eyes and saw silver-gray silk bedding with a faint scent of pine in the air.