"Of course I know."
Jiang Lu pushed open the bedroom door and shoved Dechtire onto the bed:
"That's exactly why I must do this."
He laughed ferociously:
"Since he already harbors a murderous intent towards me, then I see no need to indulge him any longer. I want to, right in front of him, tear off his fragile mask of dignity and stomp on it!"
"But I..."
Before Dechtire could finish, Jiang Lu made a silencing gesture.
"I know you're afraid he'll take his anger out on you, so I need you to cooperate with me and play your role well."
Dechtire was startled: "Play... a role?"
"Yes."
Jiang Lu walked to the window, deliberately opened it, then turned back to look at Dechtire, his face grave:
"Now, I am the hysterical thug, and you, a noble's wife coerced and forced to submit to me, everything you do henceforth is under duress, unrelated to you."
"Thug... coercion..."
Dechtire muttered, involuntarily swallowing her saliva.
