Chapter 115: The Kissing Scene

Rong Qing knew she had drifted into a beautiful and joyous dream. She dreamed of all the days to come, each one happy and fulfilling. In her later years, she and Huo Lingtian sat on rocking chairs by the seaside, basking in the glow of the setting sun. Although her hair had turned silver, wrinkles had etched her brow, and the stunning beauty of her youth had faded, her old man remained robust. Time had weathered the brilliant surface of their lives, yet as they sat with fingers intertwined, whispering and laughing in the twilight, they did not see the superficial decay. Instead, they looked through the fraying edges of their souls to the essence beneath.

The older he grew, the more childlike he became. He clung to her every day, fearful that she might glance at another, terrified that she wouldn't be there to wake him in the morning, and deeply worried that his "baby" might play a prank and hide, causing him a fit of panic. This great and glorious emperor had dedicated the rest of his life to his beloved. They bickered and laughed, shared hardships and exhaustion, and lived each day to the fullest.

Rong Qing awoke with tears of happiness in the corners of her eyes. She rubbed them gently; the large pendulum clock in the bedroom showed it was almost noon. Just then, the bedroom door was pushed open softly, and the man walked in, carrying a delicate bowl. "You're up. Drink some porridge first to warm your stomach."

Huo Lingtian served her with practiced ease. The domineering, iron-willed man performed these small gestures naturally. Rong Qing took the spoon from him, finishing every drop. Her face felt warm, the lingering influence of the dream still strong. "We will definitely be happy," she said suddenly.

Huo Lingtian’s hand paused, then he flicked her forehead and laughed. "What are you daydreaming about? Obviously, I’ve known that all along. Even if you become a white-haired old lady, I won't mind. I will love your age, your gray hair, and your wrinkles even more, because they are the proof that you spent every happy day by my side." He said with domineering flair, "Rest assured, you are mine for this lifetime. Even if I have to break your legs and chain you to my side, you will stay with me and never be separated again."

Such violent words did not cause her aversion or fear; instead, they filled her with profound happiness. Rong Qing hugged him gently, her heart settling into a deep calm.

Rong Qing rested at the Huo residence for half a day. Huo Lingtian, using the excuse of not working on a Sunday, holed up at home to accompany his wife. Even as they watched tacky television dramas, both were completely engrossed. Rong Qing lay across his lap, while he held a bag of French fries and other snacks. They ate while they watched.

When he fed her a fry, she seemed unsatisfied and reached into the snack bag, only for her hand to be soundly swatted away. She rubbed the back of her hand, looking pathetic in hopes of winning the tyrant's sympathy.

Huo Lingtian grabbed her fair hand and kissed the back of it, but on matters of principle, he remained unyielding. Frowning, he soothed his ruffled "little wife," "Be good, too much will upset your stomach."

Rong Qing looked at her "treasure" with teary eyes, feeling cut off from her snacks. She could only groan inwardly, then bit into an apple on the coffee table with a crisp crunch.

Gradually, her eyes grew heavy, and she could no longer keep her lids open. She yawned, "Hubby, wake me at eleven. We have to catch a flight." Eventually, she succumbed to sleep.

Huo Lingtian turned down the television volume, went to the bedroom to fetch a blanket, and draped it over her. The living room became quiet and cozy. After some time, he checked his watch, his brow furrowing with concern for the dark circles under her eyes. He scooped her up and carried her toward the bedroom. The woman in his arms stirred, blinking as if about to wake. Her voice was raspy and hazy: "What time is it?"

"It's still early, keep sleeping." His deep, mesmerizing voice lulled her, and her absolute trust in him allowed her to drift back into a deep slumber.

Once she was settled, Huo Lingtian notified Butler Guo to prepare the private jet, delegating all Huo family affairs to the four top executives. He felt no guilt; he had been working night and day for the past few days precisely to clear time for this trip. Besides, such a massive family business wouldn't collapse overnight, and it was better to give those four idle souls something to do.

Thus, at the Huo estate's helipad, the sleeping woman was carried onto the plane without knowing it. When she finally opened her eyes, she suddenly remembered something important and sat up with a start. She saw her husband sitting beside her, reading a book and blinking at her.

OMG! The environment also seemed wrong. She leaned against the window to look out, seeing a vast expanse of white clouds and the majestic landscape below. Fine, Rong Qing finally understood: they were on a plane, likely the Huo family's private jet.

"Baby, drink some water. We'll be there in an hour." Huo Lingtian, dressed in a sharp, domineering suit, moved with effortless elegance.

"You're coming too?" Rong Qing gulped down a glass of warm water, seemingly accepting reality.

"Inspecting work," Huo Lingtian said with a straight face. He showed his wife the documents he held, looking smug; it had taken him quite some effort to get this from Vance.

Rong Qing stared in shock, blurting out, "You bought 40% of Hollywood's shares? You... you are the primary shareholder?"

Huo Lingtian’s metaphorical tail wagged with increasing fervor, his entire being exuding pride. "Your husband is capable, right? But don't be too nervous. Aside from the executive directors, the identities of all major shareholders are hidden anonymously. They would never imagine that an Easterner has taken control of the American film industry's decision-making power. All the money they earn from their hard work goes into an Easterner's pocket."

*Profiteer.* Of course, Rong Qing only grumbled this to herself.

The plane soon landed on private property in Sichuan, nearest to the film set. Huo Lingtian walked out with Rong Qing. The manager of the Sichuan branch was there to meet them. Huo Lingtian followed the technical director's team, his expression grave and steady, as if he were truly there for an inspection.

"Qing, go to the set with the driver first. I'll come see you later." Huo Lingtian winked at her.

"Okay." This was for the best; she didn't want him showing up on set—it would be so embarrassing.

Filming for *God of the Wilderness* was going smoothly. As soon as Rong Qing returned to the crew, she dived straight into work. But to her embarrassment, there was a kissing scene that night. For a married woman, this was a massive challenge. She didn't know if she could suppress her nausea and discomfort when facing a strange, rough man.

Rong Qing threw herself into the acting, her seasoned and passionate performance winning the admiration of the Hollywood director and actors. However, the unexpected kissing scene at night caused this perfect woman to slip up for the first time.

"Cut! Even though Tucker is forcing himself on Elus, your disgust is too blatant. Again!" As a famous American star with a top-tier physique and looks, he couldn't understand why the woman before him felt such revulsion. Before they even touched, Rong Qing's emotions were already exposed.

Rong Qing let out a low breath. She understood that a kissing scene was inevitable and had prepared herself. Wasn't it just a matter of lips touching and closing one's eyes? But as she made close contact with a strange man, the nausea surged uncontrollably.

"Again!" the director signaled. Rong Qing took a deep breath, steeling herself.

She quickly immersed herself in the plot. She was like a broken doll trapped in a cage, having arrived in this strange world only to be imprisoned by a group of barbaric savages. Wearing thin, tattered clothes, her body covered in bloodstains from torture, she looked pale and disheveled. Yet, her hopeless face held a piercing, clear light in her dark eyes, as if she could see through the very essence of things.

Tucker, the wolf leader, approached the prison and saw this breathtaking beauty. The woman seemed like porcelain, fragile and delicate, yet those beautiful eyes were intoxicating. Although she had appeared on the battlefield for no reason, dressed in strange clothes and possessing formidable martial arts skills—likely a spy—his heart stirred uncontrollably. He was mesmerized by her.

He stepped toward the stone pillar, controlling his inner turmoil. With eyes like a hawk, sharp and penetrating, he pulled the tortured woman up from the ground and asked roughly, "Tell me, who sent you?"

The deep, brutal voice drew no reaction from her. Her black eyes turned coldly, scanning the man as if he were inconsequential. As an ace agent of the new century, how could she endure such humiliation? Her indifference clearly enraged the man; her disregard for him stung his heart. *Damn woman.*

His strong, powerful hand clamped onto her fair, slender neck. With the slightest pressure, this enemy spy would die. His grip tightened unconsciously, but he watched her expression—there was nothing. No pain, no fear, only a sense of relief in her eyes.

Suddenly, the man stopped. *No, I can't let her die so easily.* He would torture her, imprison her, and make her experience suffering worse than death. A red mark appeared on her neck. Tucker smiled creepily and leaned in to kiss her ruby lips.

Suddenly, the person who had been motionless pushed him away with force. Rong Qing gasped for air, her eyes filled with apology.

"Cut! Rong Qing, what are you doing? Everything was going so well, and now it's ruined!" Director Evans roared.