When the Heiress Grew Tired, Her Insecure Mad Dog Saw Red - Chapter 3

Chapter 3

We found out who had tattled to my mother. It was the old butler.

I flew into a rage and wanted him fired.

In the end, Mom and Dad wouldn’t allow it.

But a few days later, they hired an assistant butler.

“Young Mistress, my name is Su Zhe.”

The young man in a black-and-white butler’s uniform performed a proper bow, his face carrying a faint smile.

With thick brows and deep-set eyes, he looked mixed-race, beautiful in a way that blurred the line between masculine and feminine.

I saw through it at once. Mom and Dad wanted to use him to replace Yan Wen’s place in my heart.

Sure enough.

Su Zhe took over most of Yan Wen’s former duties. Though he bore the title of assistant butler, in reality, he only kept me company and did not involve himself in managing the villa’s affairs.

I wanted to nitpick and get rid of him.

But I found he was almost impossible to fault, so I had no choice but to let it go.

After the college entrance exams ended, I went to a hot spring to relax.

Mom told Su Zhe to accompany me.

But I pointed at the silent Yan Wen. “In that case, bring both of them.”

Yan Wen’s sharp brows drew together. I knew he was holding back his anger.

Ever since the incident with the Sun Family, he had restrained himself a great deal. Even if he hated me to the bone, he could only put on an obedient front.

Steam curled through the private hot spring.

Right in front of Su Zhe,

I dragged Yan Wen down into the pool and pinned him there to kiss him.

His face was burning from the heat, and he was utterly flustered.

“Young Mistress, not here…”

I laughed mockingly. “You react so strongly when someone sees how disgraceful you are in private.”

I enjoyed this feeling of control.

I deliberately teased him in crowded places.

I made him wear a bell collar at banquets, made him admit through a door that he was my dog…

Watching him flush red to the tips of his ears, gritting his teeth and refusing to make a sound, gave me a tremendous sense of accomplishment.

But that was as far as it went.

Until university life began.

I had a rather unpleasant dream. When I climbed out of bed in frustration that morning and saw the swell of Yan Wen’s chest beneath his shirt…

I felt a desire unlike my previous need for control.

I began to notice the parts of him that, beyond beauty, carried sexual tension.

When I used a whip to lift his chin as he knelt, I would deliberately drag the rough part over his fragile, bobbing Adam’s apple, rubbing it red.

Then I would ask him, “Do you hate me?”

He would raise his head and look up at me, his peach-blossom eyes shimmering with moisture, and shake his head in denial.

Liar!

The Hatred Value had clearly risen!

I tied him up and, in a fit of anger, tore open his shirt.

When he realized what I intended to do, he tried desperately to stop me. “Young Mistress… no! This isn’t appropriate. We can’t…”

I struck his chest impatiently. “Be quiet!”

Yan Wen’s face flushed with anger. He struggled so fiercely that the commotion drew a servant to knock on the door and ask, “Young Mistress, did something happen?”

“It’s nothing. I just bumped my foot by accident.”

As I spoke, I reached for the supplies in the bedside drawer.

Then I pushed through to the end in one go.

“Mm…”

No matter how stubborn the mouth, the body was honest.

I gripped Yan Wen’s neck and watched his breathing tremble, his face flushed. Mischievously, I forced him to answer, “Look at you. Even if you hate me to death, you still have to endure it. Doesn’t it suffocate you?”

He was stunned. “Young Mistress… what are you talking about?”

I despised that innocent act of his.

Smiling, I said, “I’m joking. I really do like obedient dogs.”

Sure enough, his body went rigid in an instant, and he shoved me away on instinct. “Don’t… say things like that.”

Physiological disgust and rejection couldn’t be faked.

After that,

whenever I had free time, I would tease him and make him sick.

He had the strength to break free and avoid me, but I never took it seriously. I would simply toy with my nails and say carelessly, “Are you sure you want to defy this Young Mistress?”

Then he could only obediently come and kiss me.

In a good mood, I would say, “Good dog.”

Every time, he would glance from the corner of his eye at the passing servants and beg me, “Young Mistress… please don’t call me that.”

Humiliation after humiliation. His proud bones bent again and again.

Day after day.

Until one day, I cuffed both his hands, covered his eyes with a strip of black lace, and planned to play a little game I had learned from a friend.

When I turned and saw his lips pressed tight, his muscles taut, and the blood-red Hatred Value above his head had already become 99,

I froze.

The desire burning inside me was doused by a bucket of cold water.

All this time, I had been lying to myself, telling myself that as time passed, he would slowly accept it and stay by my side…

It was nothing but self-deception.

My heart turned to ash.

I dried my tears, threw away the whip, removed the cuffs, and untied the strip of cloth covering his eyes.

“What new game does Young Mistress want to play now?”

I shook my head and said,

“I’m tired of playing… You can go. Leave the Fang Family.”

The man kneeling on the floor went rigid, then abruptly lifted his head. First came disbelief. Then his eyes reddened with moisture in an instant, restraint making him tremble, anger bringing him so close to laughter.

“Now that you’ve had enough, you’re kicking me out?”

“In Young Mistress’s eyes… am I nothing but a toy for you to vent on?”