Sehir stood by the window, using the curtains to shield himself, while Isri stood ramrod straight and motionless. The wind was indeed stronger than before, and the trees outside were rustling in the wind.
Tired of standing, Sehir propped his head up against the windowsill, his gaze still fixed on Isri.
The outside light wasn't very good, but the hand wearing a white glove was exceptionally clear in the darkness.
At that time, I would occasionally clench my fists because of the cold, but then I would straighten them back to their original shape the next second and stand still.
"I've never seen you so stubborn before," Cecil sighed, looking out the window and muttering to himself.
Sehir did not allow Isri to return quickly; on the contrary, this gave him plenty of time to daydream.
He didn't really care who Isri was or where he came from; his face was indeed excessively beautiful, almost unreal.
Cecil's eyes darkened as he looked at his reflection in the glass and chuckled.
There were many times along the way when he could have chosen a path that had nothing to do with Islam, but he chose to turn back.
Hall was clearly a person who could take care of himself, and he could have sent Isri to the slave market with just a word from him, but he refused and turned back to the side of a madman.
A madman? Sehir's gaze fell back on Isri, whose lips were already white with cold and whose body was still trembling uncontrollably, yet he remained standing motionless, not uttering a single plea for mercy.
He really is a madman.
After going around in circles, I still ended up choosing this path myself; the one who's truly crazy isn't me.
Sehir chuckled a few times with his head down, straightened up, and left the window. It was cold outside, but not cold enough to freeze to death.
The lights in the second-floor room had been off for some time, and when Isri looked up, it seemed that the house had been dark for a long time.
The trees behind us seemed to be torn apart by the wind, as if they wanted to rip the air in two.
What exactly was he praying for?
Waiting for Cecil to come out and pick him up?
Or are we waiting for Sesil's sympathy?
No, who would sympathize with someone they once hated? Islam let out a long breath and relaxed his tense body.
This may just be a silent revenge.
He messed everything up but still waited for others to forgive him. Even if the broken plate was repaired, there would still be cracks. Isri lowered his head, his vision was a little blurry, but he seemed to have no strength to be like this.
Islam loosened his clenched teeth, his hands hanging unconsciously at his sides. Time seemed to drag on endlessly outside, each second feeling like an eternity.
Several hours later, the moon overhead was almost completely obscured by clouds, and the little light that remained had vanished without a trace.
It's past midnight...
Islam had her eyes half-closed, with a blush at the corners of her eyes, and the cold air gave her an ethereal beauty.
The sound of chains echoed in his ears, and a beam of warm light shone before him. As if it were an unreal illusion, Isri moved his head and looked at what was in front of him.
Give me your hand.
A person walked out of the door, slender and tall, with golden hair that shimmered in the light. As if a miracle had occurred, Isri moved his stiff body and slowly raised his hand.
Even through the gloves, he could feel the warmth of that hand, and unconsciously, Isri tightened his grip on Cesil's hand.
Sehir paused for a moment, then looked up at Isri. At that moment, Isri also suddenly realized something and quickly pulled his hand back and put it aside.
Cesil didn't immediately expose him, but instead looked up at Isri's face and asked, "Crying?"
In an instant, my ears, which were already red from the cold, felt as if they were being roasted on a stove.
Islam lowered his head: "No."
“Come in.” Cesil didn’t press for more questions, but instead turned to look at Isri.
"yes"
The fireplace in the living room was reignited by Cecil, and the room was warm.
Cecil had changed into her pajamas, her slender legs exposed, and sat lazily on the sofa by the fireplace. Even with ruffles on the sleeves and collar, she didn't look young at all.
Sehir did not speak immediately, and Isri could only stand in front of Sehir without daring to move, his ears filled with the crackling sound of burning firewood.
In the living room, the only sound was the ticking of the clock's second hand. Isri moved his fingertips, feeling much warmer than before.
About fifteen minutes later, Cecil opened his eyes, tilted his head, and lazily opened his mouth: "Are you still cold?"
Hearing Cecil's voice, the tension in his heart subsided: "It's not cold."
Sehir raised an eyebrow, meeting Isri's gaze: "Take off your gloves."
Isri's heart, which had finally settled, surged back into his throat like a bursting beer: "Young Master, I..."
Isri wanted to refuse, but didn't know how to say it, and his face turned extremely ugly.
"Unwilling?" Sehir asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
As if hearing a voice of salvation, Isri's gaze met Cesil's and he slowly opened his mouth: "Yes."
Sehir chuckled softly, his previously lazy voice turning icy cold. To Isri, these words were even more chilling than the cold wind from before.
“I don’t like this class system, but at least there should be some basic rules and regulations,” Cecil said. “Don’t you think so?”
Isri felt as if he had swallowed a mouthful of steel bars, frozen in place, unable to move, only able to stare at Ceshir's opening and closing mouth and his emotionless eyes.
It's very cold, and I'm very scared.
Seeing that Isri remained silent, Cesil spoke again: "Have I really been too lenient with you, allowing you to so brazenly overstep my bounds?"
“No!” This time, Isri answered decisively, looking firmly at Ceshir.
"No?"
Sehir's voice returned to its previous languid tone, as if nothing had happened. This was how he dealt with Isri, one move at a time.
"Since you don't have them, then take off your gloves."
Chapter 133
Looking at Sehir's expression, Isri's body stiffened terribly, but he eventually lowered his head and clasped his hands together.
Now he wished he didn't have these two hands, but he had no choice but to obey Cecil.
The gloves were slowly slipped off my hands. My hands, which had been red from the cold, hadn't recovered yet. After all, they were so small. In just a few seconds, both gloves were completely off.
Instinctively, Isri pulled his left hand back and clenched his fist.
In fact, Cesil already knew what Isri had on his hand: a ring on his ring finger.
The ring looked somewhat familiar. Cecil stood up and took a step forward.
"You're engaged so soon?" Cecil's voice wasn't loud, but if you listened closely, there was a hint of sarcasm in it.
Isri couldn't withstand this move, and after a second of hesitation, he quickly explained, "No! This is just..."
Suddenly, the words stuck in his throat, and Islam's ears turned red from holding them in.
“But… what?” Sehir walked up to Isri and gently tugged at Isri’s arm, which was resting to his side.
Isri dared not resist and could only let Ceshir pull his arm out. Ceshir could only see it clearly when he got closer.
This is a black and gold ring with a faint pattern engraved on its surface. Only upon close inspection can one see that it is a thorn.
Sehir was also taken aback. He had thought that Isri was wearing the same one he had worn before, but it turned out that it was just similar in appearance. The one Isri was wearing looked more like a pair of rings.
Cesil lowered his head, chuckled softly, put Isrith's hand down, and tentatively opened his mouth: "Is it just a matching ring with the one I had before?"
Almost instantly, Isri clenched his fists, a blush spreading from his neck to his earlobes, and the words that had been stuck in his throat finally came out of Cesil's mouth without missing a single one.
Sehir slowly raised his head, getting closer to Isri, his breath rising and falling right next to his ear. Sehir raised his hand and slowly reached towards Isri's ear.
Isri was losing his balance and instinctively tried to escape the hand in front of him, but Cesil never did what Isri wanted.
"Don't move!" With a command that was neither too loud nor too soft, Isri immediately froze on the spot like a piece of wood.
Sehir casually reached past his ear, put his hand up, and picked up an inconspicuous plush toy that had landed on his head.
"Why are you so afraid of me?" Sehir looked at Isri and said teasingly.
“No…” Isri opened his mouth with difficulty, his gaze never daring to meet Ceshir’s.
Cecil smiled and took another step forward, almost touching the other person. Cecil's voice was soft and elegant.
"Yeah?"
Islam choked out, tilting his head to the side, his body and mouth completely out of sync: "Yes," he said, and then took a step back.
Cecil's movements seemed to come to an abrupt halt, and his voice became calm as he stepped back: "Go upstairs and run some hot water; I need to take a shower."
"Now?" Isri glanced at the time, somewhat surprised.
"The master ordered..."
"Yes, I'll go right away."
As he spoke, Isri's face turned even redder. He hurriedly interrupted Sehir, bowed, and quickly started walking upstairs.
Sehir chuckled softly, a playful glint in his eyes, and followed behind Isri.
The night is already quieter, and the empty bathroom amplifies even the slightest breath.
Sehir stood behind Isri, his gaze unconsciously falling on the stone platform beside him. Without changing his expression, Sehir walked over and sat down.
After filling the hot water tank, Isri turned around and bowed, saying, "Young Master, the water is ready."
“Hmm,” Cecil replied.
As if to turn and leave, Isri was stopped by Ceshir the next second.
"Change your clothes? You want me to change them myself?"
Once again, Isri stood frozen in place, turned to look at Ceshir with a complex expression in his eyes, and after a long while walked over to Ceshir and pulled up his sleeves.
"I'm sorry, young master."
Isri breathed a sigh of relief, lifted Sehir off the table and placed him on the ground. He quickly took off his large pajamas, and there were no more glaring purple marks on his fair body.
With his arm around her waist, Isri put Sehir into the water, then got up and tidied up the things around him.
The hot water just reached above his shoulders, and he felt sleepy after lying in the bathtub for only a few seconds. Cesil turned his head to look at Isri's back, and suddenly a bad idea rose in his mind.
“Isri,” Sehir called out.