Chapter 1
Title: All the Way Through Author: Sage: Shene Nian Nian **Synopsis:** “Windrider, if you don’t step up today, then Windrider really doesn’t deserve the name Isabella Fairbloom!” Can you believe this girl, just about to turn eighteen, is trying to take charge of the Prince? Edmund Windrider lay bound in a Big 'X' shape on the bed, every inch of him exposed. He cast a casual glance at the speaker, then turned his head away, his eyes shrouded in mystery. Is he being overpowered, or what exactly is going on? Curious to find out? Go on, dive in! **Content Tags:** Military, Rising Stars, Intense Affections, Urban Romance **Keywords:** Protagonists: Edmund Windrider, Isabella Fairbloom; Supporting Characters: Noble Offspring, Bystanders, Minor Characters; Other: Military Life, Fractured Rivalry, Sweet Romance **Previous Work:** "Deep Affection Shallow Love" --- Edmund Windrider wasn't used to being in such a precarious position. His instincts screamed at him as he lay exposed on the bed, security ropes digging into his skin, and there she was, Isabella Fairbloom, standing defiantly before him. “Come on, you’re not the shy type!” she declared, her voice roiling with both mischief and conviction. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her audacity. No one had ever dared to challenge him quite like this before. The room was quiet aside from the soft rustle of the curtains swaying in the breeze, adding an air of tension to the moment. “Is this what it’s come to?” he mused silently, the corner of his mouth twitching into what might have been the start of a smile. Rolling her eyes, Isabella stepped closer, a determined glint in her gaze. “You might have the title, but today, you’re not the one in control. You need to own up to your responsibilities, Edmund!” He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation, but internally, he found her spirit utterly enchanting. Yet deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that today’s events were only the tip of the iceberg. Serious thoughts flicked through his mind. As the only son of Harrison Windrider, a renowned military officer, Edmund had known his share of expectations—and burdens. Yet here he was, trapped in this bed with a firebrand of a girl challenging him in the most unconventional way possible. “Isabella...” he started, trying to find the right words, but the sharpness in her stare rendered him momentarily bereft of speech. Seeing the prince, metaphorically and literally, tied up by her challenge ignited something fierce in Isabella. “Exactly, you don’t get to take the easy way out. Show me your worth, Windrider!” A strange mix of admiration and something deeper surged through his veins as she stood there, unwavering and vibrant against his subdued demeanor. A few paces behind, unseen, was Lysander Everhart, Edmund’s close friend, watching this dance with good-humored disbelief. The contrast between their personalities—Lysander’s diplomatic charm and Isabella’s fiery determination—never failed to amuse him. “Should I step in or let this play out?” he thought, tempted to intervene but choosing to observe instead. History had a weird way of surprising people; this might just be an important moment for them all. And a moment it was, as Edmund grappled with his thoughts while wrestling with the implications of this encounter. Isabella had resolved to push him, and who knew? Perhaps she could help him unravel the confines of his life that he’d been ensnared by for too long. “Alright, Isabella,” he finally said, his tone shifting from hesitant to resolute. “Let’s see how far you’re willing to go. I might surprise you.” Their gazes locked, a silent agreement passing between them that this was only the beginning of something none of them had anticipated. With every challenge posed and every defense shattered, they were on the verge of discovering not just the limits of each other, but the boundaries of the world around them. **To be continued…**
Chapter 2
“Whoa… that’s deep…” The voice was low, its passion making it hard to tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman. “Does that feel good?” This was unmistakably a man's voice, deep yet casual, carrying the relaxed authority of a seasoned sage. “Oh… no… not enough yet… let’s keep going tonight… ah… that angle… ” The woman’s voice was still hard to define, sultry and smoky. The deep male voice fell silent, and for a moment, the only sounds filling the room were the soft splashes of water and the rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh, punctuated by low, fervent sighs. Occasionally, sharp thuds reverberated—the sound of bodies falling from a height onto the bed, followed by louder moans, a mix of ecstasy or perhaps pain that brought forth those loud cries. As the camera zooms in, it revealed a mansion that could only be described as luxurious, a fine single-family home whose ornate, dark iron gate exuded understated elegance. Once you stepped through, the pathway led into a grand hall, laid with perfectly matching cream-colored pebbles—finding any that were identical in quality alone would require immense wealth. To own such a sprawling estate in Castle Fortynine, nestled in such a serene environment, surely indicated that its owner was either extremely wealthy or titled. Upon entering the entrance, one couldn't help but note the exquisite decor that evoked a sense of refined taste throughout the mansion, elevating its value instantly. The warm tones mixed with subtle cool hues created a European ambiance, highlighted by a grand fireplace on the left. A discerning eye would recognize the luxurious carpet beneath, a premium blackwood shag that spoke volumes about the proprietor’s appreciation for the finer things in life. Ah, let’s not overlook the chaos we initially dismissed at the entrance. With abandoned shoes strewn about at the foyer, buttons scattered like confetti, a pair of combat pants hanging from the stair railing, and remnants of a white shirt's sleeve caught in the mix, it was clear that the battle here had been intense—clothes left unfastened and torn in the heat of passion. The closed door could hardly contain the intoxicating energy radiating from within. The couple intertwined in fervor resembled a scene straight out of a movie, filled with palpable passion. As the view shifts, the woman who was once perched atop the man now found herself pinned to the bed, her face buried in the pillow, her body arched to accommodate the powerful grip of his hand on her waist, coaxing her to lift her hips for him. Propped up, the woman’s figure was slender yet undeniably tight-skinned, her entire body gleaming with a honey-like glow, save for her chest and the supple curves of her backside—both delicately pale. The stark contrast drove the man into a frenzy, his gaze darkening with desire as he bit down, leaving marks on those soft, tender spots.
Chapter 3
The man kneeling in front had short, thick hair and chiseled features, his face marked by a striking, almost austere expression. His narrow eyes had a keen intensity, a sharply defined nose towered above thin, pressed lips, often described as a sign of a detached nature. With a lean, muscular physique, he possessed an athletic build devoid of bulging muscles, yet the kind of smooth lines that suggested a latent power; it was clear he had trained hard, showing strength that most could only aspire to attain. “Edmund Windrider, are you ever going to finish… ah… hurry up already… Windrider’s hurting…,” the woman finally lifted her head from the pillow. Her short, meticulously styled hair framed a youthful face, defined by large, expressive eyes that gleamed like a cat's in the night. “It’s you who said you didn’t want to sleep tonight.” Edmund answered, his breath steady, betraying no exertion. Isabella Fairbloom’s honey-like cheeks had turned a fiery red as she turned her head, glaring at him. “I told you to drop dead; why don’t you take my advice… ah… it’s too deep… it hurts…” “Swearing again, noted…” His motions didn’t slow; on the contrary, they picked up in intensity. Her wide, glimmering eyes followed Edmund as he drove deeper, biting her lip, hidden beneath the stern facade of her military uniform was a femininity that shone through only at this moment. Edmund Windrider sensed the spark in Isabella’s gaze and accelerated, a low, muffled groan signaling his release. Once the pressure was released, she collapsed, exhausted. But after a moment, the sensation lingered, leaving her squirming as something still remained firmly inside her, making her arch her back. A quick, tantalizing flick of her hips caught Edmund's attention, narrowing his eyes with a mix of focus and desire. “Get out,” she murmured. After checking the time outside, Edmund withdrew and headed for the bath chamber. “I’m going to Venezuela,” her voice, slightly hoarse yet alluring, called after him. The man paused momentarily. “For what?” “To train.” Edmund’s brow furrowed, turning back with a hint of exasperation. “Don't tell me it's for that 'Hunting Academy.'” “Yeah, you figured it out; that’s exactly where I’m going.” At the confirmation, Edmund’s muscles tensed, and after a brief silence, he uttered, “Suit yourself,” before heading into the bath chamber. Isabella didn't catch the tightly clenched fist he left behind. Disheartened, she pulled the covers over her head and swallowed the bitter disappointment rising in her throat. So it was true; he really didn’t care about her. Although she expected this outcome, facing it became an unfamiliar struggle. Rubbing her nose, she cursed under her breath, “Screw you, Edmund Windrider. Windrider can take a hike.” With a frustrated flap of the sheets, she turned away and drifted into a sleep devoid of her usual comforts. Having been trapped together since Isabella finished her speech and was abducted that afternoon, they had spent five exhausting hours in total. Despite her rigorous training, Isabella felt worn out; that man was a monster with such stamina. “Creak…” The glass doors of the bath chamber opened, and out stepped Edmund, a towel wrapped around his waist as he dried his hair. Upon seeing the young woman fast asleep in bed, his lips twisted into a reluctant smile as he approached her, lifting the covers to draw nearer to Isabella Fairbloom.
Chapter 4
Isaac Fairbloom's face was flushed with annoyance as he looked at the mess before him, eyes glinting with regret. He promised himself it wouldn’t happen again; he should have been more careful, especially after all this time apart. With two fingers, he scooped away the remnants of their heated encounter. Adrenaline coursed through him; this was too reckless—the last time they were intimate, he hadn't used any protection, thinking they could deal with whatever came next as it came. But now it was clear that wasn’t an option. Edmund Windrider pressed his lips into a thin line, methodically cleaning up the traces he had left within Isabella Fairbloom. It was as if their passionate moment had intruded upon her dreams, and as she shifted in her sleep, she inadvertently kicked him in the face. The sudden impact darkened half of his visage with irritation. Edmund stared at Isabella, who seemed oblivious even in slumber, her features softening his hard expression. After a moment, his annoyance slid away, replaced by an inexplicable tenderness. Using the towel around his waist, he carelessly wiped away the remains of their mishap, his eyes filled with a warmth that strangers wouldn’t comprehend. Settling back onto the bed, he sighed, glancing at the distance Isabella maintained between them. The comforting scent of him in her dreams seemed to draw her closer, and she instinctively rolled over, reaching out her small hand to grasp the familiar comfort of his presence as she slipped back into deep slumber. Edmund found himself studying her delicate face, taking in her youth and innocence. He mused internally about how such a naive girl could have so easily drawn him in. Despite the exhaustion from the day’s activities, sleep evaded him; thoughts of her leaving for Venezuela danced in his mind, stirring his unease. Who was Edmund Windrider, you ask? He was a fixture in the city—a man everyone recognized from the massive billboards and front-page news. If you took a stroll through the bustling streets or caught the subway, there he was again, his contemplative profile gracing every surface. He was the dream of every ambitious mother, hoping that her daughter might one day marry someone as illustrious as he. In less than a decade, he catapulted the family business, Windrider Corp, into the international spotlight. A master of the corporate game, he seemed to always carry an enigmatic smile, leaving everyone guessing his next move. And who could ignore his impressive lineage? If you turned on the news, you might catch a glimpse of a major political figure conducting state visits—someone whose resemblance to Edmund was uncanny. Coincidentally, that leader also bore the surname Windrider. This reality made clear the unjust nature of the world; some were born with a silver spoon while others solely depended on their grit. In the realm of privilege, no one thrived quite like Edmund Windrider. Within the elite circles of the city, he was considered the crown jewel. His close friends called him Lin, a nod to both his family name and his stature. With eyes set on joining the ranks of the elite—those vying for a feature on the cover of "Time" magazine—his popularity was poised to reach global heights. As for Isabella, she held onto the romantic notion that she and Edmund were childhood sweethearts. But in reality, at nine years her senior, he was less a chap in the garden with her and more a distant star in her sky. To young Isabella Fairbloom, Edmund Windrider was her silver-haired knight, etched forever in her heart.
Chapter 5
"Stop right there, you Younglings! Get over here and skin these blind fools who dare invade my territory!" Eleven-year-old Edmund Windrider brandished a leather whip, a tool his father had used on him that he had secretly snatched from behind their front door. He was rallying a small group of Younglings to chase after another group that had strayed onto his land. Three-year-old Isabella Fairbloom stood outside her grandfather's house, witness to a chaotic brawl among a dozen unruly kids. Her attention was drawn to the tallest boy in the center, with striking red lips and a fierce shout. He rode on the back of a chubby Youngling, thrashing him with the whip before turning to dash into the house. She heard the boy's voice call out over his shoulder, "Call me Big Windrider! No, wait, just call me Grandpa, and I'll let you off the hook." Young Isabella envied that boy with the whip, not because of his looks or his demand to be called grandpa, but because he had a whole crowd of friends backing him up. Isabella Fairbloom's mother had passed away, and the adults lied, telling her that her mother had gone abroad. Young Isabella rolled her eyes, thinking how ridiculous it was. They couldn’t trick her—she noticed the steady flow of doctors coming and going; they were definitely not pretending. Isabella was sharp-witted, and the Windrider family was the real aristocracy of their age. In their youth, during a major reformation of the country when collective ownership was encouraged, Isabella Everhart was the first to step forward, donating her family's business to the state. Isabella Everhart had keen insight. She could see that state ownership was inevitable, and while others were fleeing to foreign lands, she chose to support her country. The government was buying companies from various private owners, and she did not want a cent for her company—she willingly donated it. Her family enterprise was not your average small workshop. It was a well-established business that had origins tracing back to the Zhang Zhiyuan era— "Hubei New Everhart," an upstanding private company. Isabella’s ancestor had studied abroad, learning Western business models and, even amid strife, had preserved the enterprise intact, growing it larger rather than letting it shrink. Two generations later, it was landed in Isabella Everhart’s hands. Just back from America, she was aware of the policies being formed during the nation’s founding period. Whether it was democracy or authoritarianism, it didn't matter to her. After some careful thought, she wrote a letter to the Prime Minister. In those times, you could never be sure whether your letter would even reach the big leaders. But when the Prime Minister received her letter, he was overjoyed. He personally met with Isabella Everhart to discuss matters for several hours in the grand hall. Afterward, he hosted a banquet for her at Zhongnanhai, leading to the decision that Isabella’s company would become a state asset. Isabella was a pioneer in promoting good practices for the nation. To casually donate such a massive estate during a period when the country needed talents was no small feat. Isabella, with her overseas education and striking appearance, exuded the charm of a nobleman, with eyes clear and a manner calm yet assertive. Upon returning, the Prime Minister drafted documents and convened a meeting. Given her background and such a vast fortune, her patriotism was undeniable. In those days when loyalty to the country was emphasized, despite being younger than most, several elders considered her worthy and unanimously appointed Isabella Everhart as the Vice Chair of House Everhart.
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