At some point, someone must have pressed the remote, and the movie resumed playing.The low voice and the dark, moody images cast the room in a muted, desaturated tone.
Kong Wenyu gripped the sofa with one hand and held onto Nie Jun’s shoulder with the other, trying to steady himself.
But Nie Jun didn’t ease up. He showed a rare kind of aggression—something that, until now, had only ever appeared in his eyes.
Kong Wenyu’s voice was hoarse when he asked, “Other than the engagement, I can agree to anything else.”
What Nie Jun wanted was something Kong Wenyu couldn’t give. His status meant he would never belong to just one person.
Sensing that Nie Jun’s movements were different this time, Kong Wenyu couldn’t help but let out a low sound. The next moment, Nie Jun leaned forward, his solid chest pressing tightly against Kong Wenyu’s back, warm breath brushing against the sensitive skin behind his ear.
Every pore in Kong Wenyu’s body seemed to relax. Before he could speak, heat seared his shoulder.
Nie Jun had bitten him.
It didn’t hurt.
The clock gave a soft click as the hour hand aligned, and for that brief second, all three hands overlapped.
Nie Jun wrapped him in a robe and carried him out. As he opened the door, he saw Shola still lying there by the frame.
“Shh,” Nie Jun told the dog, his gaze firm.
Shola circled him twice, letting out an eager huff.
“Shh,” Nie Jun repeated, raising a hand to stop it from rushing over to nuzzle Kong Wenyu.
Shola immediately sat, tilting its head, waiting.
“…,” Nie Jun muttered, rubbing the soft fur at the back of its head as both reward and reassurance. “There’s nothing now. I’ll bring something for you tomorrow.”
Shola’s eyes flicked, and the next moment, it bolted off. A short while later, the butler appeared from the same corner where Shola had vanished.
Nie Jun’s steps halted. He instinctively shifted half a step back into the shadows, watching as the butler bypassed the second floor without stopping and went straight up to the third.
While waiting, the man in his arms stirred as if uncomfortable, frowning faintly.
Nie Jun patted him gently, murmuring softly, “Go back to sleep. After I shower, I’ll carry you to bed.”
Kong Wenyu adjusted his position slightly in Nie Jun’s arms, then slipped back into deep sleep.
Once the butler’s figure had completely disappeared, Nie Jun waited another two minutes before carrying Kong Wenyu to the bathroom.
The next morning, when Kong Wenyu opened his eyes, the curtains were drawn tight, shutting out the light. The room was silent—he was alone.
Nie Jun must have left hours ago. Kong Wenyu closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them to glance at the clock. It was already nine.
He had slept deeply, unusually so—a rare thing for someone as light a sleeper as he was.
He lay there for a few more minutes before finally getting up and dressing at a sluggish pace, then headed downstairs.
In the center of the living room, Fu Xi, now sporting freshly dyed chocolate-brown hair, was sprawled out, legs stretched, playing a video game.
Kong Wenyu sat across from him, sighed, and when he spoke, his voice came out rough and husky: “What time did you get here?”
Just yesterday over the phone, his voice had been clear and cool, as fresh as mint over ice.
Fu Xi frowned at the sound, then closed his game, grumbling with a hint of annoyance: “I’ve already been waiting half an hour. I said I’d go upstairs to find you, but your bodyguard said you needed to rest. How old are you now, and you’re still sleeping until you naturally wake up?”
Kong Wenyu glanced toward the doorway where Nie Jun stood. Nie Jun kept his head slightly lowered, deliberately avoiding Kong Wenyu’s gaze.
Fu Xi ruffled his own hair, lifting his chin to look at him.
Kong Wenyu crossed his long legs but froze halfway, the movement pulling uncomfortably at his muscles. His tone sharpened, edged with irritation: “Didn’t your dad tell you not to mess with this stuff?”
“I’ll dye it back when I get home.” Fu Xi eyed him warily. “Hey, I didn’t do anything to you, why do you look so annoyed?”
“Morning mood,” Kong Wenyu said flatly.
“Morning mood? It’s nine o’clock already!” Fu Xi exaggerated, letting out a dramatic sigh as he spun the ring on his finger. “I heard you went out to sea again a few days ago, huh?”
Kong Wenyu pulled his gaze away from Nie Jun, who was standing by the door, and kept his expression neutral. “You’ve got your sources.”
“Of course I do,” Fu Xi grinned, eyes narrowing proudly. “Was it Di Xun trying to send someone to your bed again, and you turned them down?”
Kong Wenyu propped his chin up with one hand, looking utterly bored, and didn’t deny it.
“Why?” Fu Xi asked. “Because of the engagement? You still care about that?”
Fu Xi had always been a firm advocate of the pleasure-seeker lifestyle and often suggested to others that they enter marriages of convenience.
“You never accept anyone people try to send you. What, some kind of cleanliness obsession?”
Kong Wenyu glanced at him. “Who asked you to bring this up?”
Busted, Fu Xi laughed sheepishly and pulled out his phone, showing him a photo. “Just signed this model—half Russian, half American. The boss at Antarctic Entertainment said if you’re interested, they’ll send him over to keep you company. In exchange, you might consider their new brand for endorsement.”
Kong Wenyu gave it a brief look and commented casually, “Average.”
“This is ‘average’ to you?” Fu Xi was incredulous.
Kong Wenyu leaned back against the sofa, resting his chin on his hand, and gave a low laugh.
That effortless shake of the head—there was something unreachably elegant about it.
Fu Xi put away his phone. “What’s wrong, man? Not your type? There are others. These people are practically throwing themselves at you—give them a chance.”
Kong Wenyu’s gaze drifted toward the door.
Outside, the sunlight was blazing, making the shadows there seem even deeper. Nie Jun stood slightly to the side, his expression unreadable.
Fu Xi followed his line of sight, squinting against the glare. “Be honest with me—are you keeping a lover outside?”
“Just don’t want to,” Kong Wenyu replied smoothly, his face unreadable.
As he turned his head, his collar slipped slightly, revealing part of his collarbone.
Fu Xi caught sight of it and froze, recognizing the reddish marks there.
“Wait a second.” His eyes locked onto the spot. “Where did you sleep last night?”
Kong Wenyu looked at him but didn’t answer.
Fu Xi checked again, and there was no doubt—those were kiss marks.
There was no question about it: his bed was anything but empty.
Fu Xi shifted his gaze away, thinking for a moment before deciding to drop the subject.
The Kong family’s situation was too unstable right now. Bringing up something like that—too close to scandal—could easily lead to dangerous misunderstandings.
“I also heard you got hurt on Di Xun’s private island? That a bodyguard carried you back?” Fu Xi glanced around the room, his eyes landing on Hai Ming and Nie Jun at the door. “Which one? Call him over, let me see. Is it that guy? The one who supposedly broke Beta’s arm?”
In B City, there were no secrets at all. Kong Wenyu rubbed his temples lightly.
Fu Xi’s eyes lit up eagerly. “I’ve got a banquet next week. Made a bet to spar with someone—can you lend him to me for two days?”
Kong Wenyu cast him a cool glance, didn’t even turn his head, and said, “Hai Ming.”
Hai Ming stepped forward from the door and stood behind him.
“Go with him to the banquet next week,” Kong Wenyu instructed.
Hai Ming nodded in acknowledgment, but Fu Xi looked dissatisfied. “I want the one who beat Beta.”
Kong Wenyu turned to Hai Ming. “Can you beat him?”
It might’ve been questionable before, but now that Beta’s arm still hadn’t fully healed, it was obvious he could.
“No problem,” Hai Ming replied.
Fu Xi gave him a doubtful look but reluctantly said, “Fine then.”
On the other side of the doorway, a tall bodyguard stood in the shadows, blending in like a beast lurking in the dark with its fangs restrained.
From start to finish, Nie Jun remained silent, his brows faintly furrowed as if they weren’t even talking about him.
Fu Xi had just returned to the country and had a lot to handle. Even so, he stayed long enough to freeload a lunch at Kong Wenyu’s place before leaving.
Kong Wenyu ate slowly. After sending Fu Xi off, his appetite disappeared entirely—he didn’t touch the remaining half bowl of soup.
Hai Ming stood a bit farther away from Nie Jun. When Kong Wenyu started upstairs, Hai Ming lowered his voice. “No assignments this afternoon. You should head home and rest.”
Nie Jun glanced at Kong Wenyu’s back, then simply replied, “Okay.”
“Nie Jun,” Kong Wenyu called without turning his head. His tone was as cold and concise as always: “Upstairs.”
Hai Ming clasped his hands behind his back and gave Nie Jun a look that clearly said: Good luck. You’re on your own.
Nie Jun pressed his lips together and followed behind Kong Wenyu.
Maybe it was because of how excessive last night had been—or because his ankle still hadn’t fully recovered—Kong Wenyu walked very slowly.
Nie Jun wanted to pick him up but hesitated several times, never finding the right moment to reach out.
Not until Kong Wenyu pushed open the study door on the second floor and entered the hidden chamber on the side.
He had already experienced just how intimidating this space was—both in its atmosphere and in the way everything inside was meticulously arranged.
Kong Wenyu stopped in front of the dark red desk. After a moment, with his back still turned, he said, “You probably don’t know me well enough.”
He tilted his head slightly, shifting his gaze toward Nie Jun. “When it comes to me—and my things—no one else is allowed to touch them. Not even a little.”
Nie Jun stayed silent.
Since last night, he’d been like a mute—just keeping his head down and doing whatever was asked of him.
Kong Wenyu picked up a lighter from the corner of the desk, tilted it toward the metal surface, and pulled open his collar to look at the marks left along his collarbone.
For no clear reason, irritation rose in him—whether because of the hickey or because of Nie Jun’s silence, he wasn’t sure.
He tossed the lighter aside with a sharp clink. “Kneel.”
Nie Jun didn’t say a word. He simply lowered his head and knelt on the carpet.
Kong Wenyu selected a tool from the wall. Because of its height, when he reached for it, his thigh brushed against the edge, making him pause briefly before finally pulling it down.
Last night, the room next door had been filled with the sound of heavy breathing and reckless noises well past midnight.
Even now, Kong Wenyu’s thighs still ached.
“Take off your clothes,” he ordered.
Nie Jun glanced briefly at the short whip in his hand and shrugged off his jacket in two quick motions.
“More,” Kong Wenyu said, dissatisfied, tapping the firm expanse of Nie Jun’s shoulder with the wooden handle. “Take off more.”
Nie Jun hesitated, then raised his hands and stripped off his black T-shirt.
His wheat-toned skin, under the dim light, carried a muted sheen like oiled leather.
Kong Wenyu’s gaze lingered for a moment as he paced toward him.
The dark whip handle was clutched in his hand; if one followed the line of his long fingers upward, they would see red marks on Nie Jun’s arms—the remnants of last night.
But unfortunately, any higher was blocked by his rolled-up sleeves.
A sudden sting across Nie Jun’s chest snapped him out of his thoughts.
Kong Wenyu didn’t retract the whip. Right in Nie Jun’s line of sight, he deliberately lashed him again.
It didn’t make much noise, but it left a very real welt.
“Who gave you the nerve last night to leave marks on me?”
“I’m sorry,” Nie Jun said, lowering his eyes. “It won’t happen again.”
Kong Wenyu studied him for a moment, then abruptly asked, “Before I came downstairs, did you talk to him?”
He meant Fu Xi.
“No,” Nie Jun answered simply.
Kong Wenyu looked down at the whip in his hand, as if weighing the truth of that statement.
Nie Jun glanced up at him. “Does your leg hurt?”
Kong Wenyu stared at him for two seconds, then reached out, rubbing a welt across Nie Jun’s chest with his fingertips before holding them up to his eyes to examine. “Out of all the bodyguards, why did he specifically ask for you?”
Nie Jun said, “Let me massage it for you—it might feel better.”
Kong Wenyu clicked his tongue.
Nie Jun paused, then added, “Maybe it’s because I beat Bitt.”
The submissive attitude, paired with the mottled marks on his chest, pleased Kong Wenyu.
He lowered his hand, the corner of his lips lifting as he let out a quiet scoff.
The next second, the handle of the whip teasingly lifted Nie Jun’s chin. Kong Wenyu studied him for a moment before granting him what sounded almost like a reward: “Tomorrow I’m visiting the new rehabilitation center. You’re coming with me.”
Nie Jun’s throat moved. Kong Wenyu asked, “You don’t want to go?”
“I do,” Nie Jun replied.
Kong Wenyu released the whip, feeling the ache in his inner thighs. Amid the still air and dim light, he let out a silent, amused laugh. “You were pretty rough last night.”
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