Even in the Kong household—especially in the dead of night—it was never appropriate to be carrying someone around openly.
Nie Jun walked to the door to check the courtyard. The light in the security room was still on, but the streetlamps beyond the gate had already gone dark. The cars that had been parked there were long gone.
Aunt Zhu stood on the steps, occasionally glancing toward the building with a worried look.
Nie Jun returned and leaned down next to the bed. “Want me to carry you back to your room?”
Kong Wenyu reached out and ran her fingers along his jawline, then up to the back of his neck, gently pulling him closer.
Nie Jun lowered his head obediently, offering no resistance.
Kong Wenyu stared into his eyes. “Can I trust you, Nie Jun?”
He met her gaze, eyes deep and steady. “Yes.”
She didn’t let go, her fingers still loosely resting on his strong neck.
“Why?” she asked. “Because we’ve slept together?”
Nie Jun replied, “No.”
But he didn’t elaborate.
Kong Wenyu didn’t press him. She let go and said, “I want to go to your place.”
Nie Jun hesitated for a beat.
“Just to sleep,” Kong Wenyu added with a teasing lilt. “Nothing else.”
Nie Jun hadn’t assumed otherwise. “I know.”
But sneaking Kong Wenyu to his place at a time like this, without drawing attention, wasn’t going to be easy.
They’d need to avoid the security room, and the well-lit main gate. Who knew how many people in this house were actually working for Kong Lingru?
Nie Jun helped him sit up and bent down to put his shoes on.
Kong Wenyu blocked him with his leg, slipping the shoes on himself, then leaned in closer. “Hold me.”
Nie Jun lifted him into his arms briefly and murmured, “It’s less conspicuous if I carry you on my back. There’s a door on the north side of the hallway—we’ll go through there to the garage and circle around to the back.”
Kong Wenyu thought for a moment, then nodded to the plan.
The early morning moon hung silently in the sky, its silver light pouring onto the ground like liquid mercury.
Around the corner, the eaves cast heavy shadows across the pavement. A flash of movement slipped from under them into the east-side garage.
Kong Wenyu lay slung over Nie Jun’s broad, warm shoulders, draped in the black coat he had taken off for him.
Inside the guardroom, Hai Ming stretched and stood, grabbing his cup and walking over to the water dispenser.
Nie Jun waited for the right moment, then exited the garage and moved quickly along the wall’s shadow toward the main gate.
Hai Ming sipped his water, eyes glancing in their direction.
Nie Jun flattened himself against the wall and stayed still. Behind him, Kong Wenyu whispered, “If we wait any longer, Shola’s going to start barking.”
Nie Jun looked up—sure enough, Shola was lying on the second-floor balcony, staring at them through the glass, head tilted.
Nie Jun held out a hand and made a downward motion, followed by a shushing gesture.
Shola tilted its head even further. Two seconds later, its paw slipped against the window, and the whole dog flopped noisily onto the floor inside.
Kong Wenyu let out a soft snort of laughter. Nie Jun quickly shushed him again.
Suppressing his smile, Kong Wenyu muttered, “Were you a thief in a past life? You’re suspiciously good at this.”
“I wasn’t a thief,” Nie Jun said.
Back in the guardroom, Hai Ming set his cup down and sat back in his chair.
Nie Jun seized the moment and slipped out past the gate.
Kong Wenyu, still on his back, asked with feigned curiosity, “What about sneaking around with lovers—ever done that?”
Nie Jun stumbled slightly, nearly tripping.
“No,” he replied flatly, regaining his composure and stepping into the shadows by the wall.
Two red lights blinked from the security cameras above the gate. A third, more discreet one, was hidden high up in a tall pagoda tree nearby.
Kong Wenyu propped himself up a little. “What are we waiting for?”
“The wind,” Nie Jun said. “Those two cameras up there have blind spots. The one in the tree doesn’t.”
Kong Wenyu looked over, but could only make out the overlapping shapes of tree branches in the dark.
“You seem to know a lot.”
Nie Jun hesitated, then said, “I installed them.”
Kong Wenyu chuckled faintly, then after a moment added, “Even if it gets recorded, it’s fine. Just delete the footage tomorrow.”
Nie Jun didn’t reply. They waited a few more minutes. A breeze rustled through, lifting strands of Kong Wenyu’s hair and brushing them across Nie Jun’s neck.
He looked up. The leaves in the treetop were swaying wildly, casting a chaotic patchwork of shadows on the ground.
He adjusted Kong Wenyu higher on his back, and with nimble, fluid movements, slipped through the shelterbelt of trees.
Once past that stretch, it got easier—the Kong family’s surveillance didn’t extend much past the front gate and only covered up to the corner of the street.
Nie Jun carried him into a narrow alley. The exits ahead and behind were deserted. He slowed his pace—the alley was long, dim, and seemingly endless.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it halfway out to glance at the screen—Pang Ding had sent a message.
He didn’t read it. Just dropped the phone back into his pocket.
Kong Wenyu caught a glimpse. “Who was that?”
“A friend,” Nie Jun answered. “We used to run missions together.”
“This one too?” Kong Wenyu asked.
Nie Jun nodded. “He’s a go-between. We usually get jobs through him.”
Kong Wenyu exhaled through his nose and let the topic drop.
Nie Jun continued at an even pace. Once they exited the alley and turned right, they were on the street Nie Jun walked daily to and from work.
At this hour, the night market had already shut down. Only a few empty stalls remained, along with a couple of vendors quietly prepping their goods.
Without a car, the walk felt much longer. Kong Wenyu’s breathing rose and fell with Nie Jun’s steps. After a long while, he finally spoke:
“Word of my engagement to the Long family will be out early next month.”
Nie Jun said nothing, just kept walking.
Kong Wenyu waited a moment, then added, “Tonight was just a test run. To probe Second Aunt’s ties with the Ao family, and to see what cards she’s holding. She’s going to have to give something up.”
“I need to show her both my weakness—and the opportunity,” Kong Wenyu said softly. “Force her hand.”
Nie Jun’s voice came from behind, trembling slightly, muffled:
“I’ll take care of them for you.”
Kong Wenyu paused, then let out a low chuckle.
The vibrations from his chest reverberated for a while before settling.
When he was done laughing, he said, “Makes me wonder what you’ve already done in the past. We live in a country governed by law—being a little heartless is fine, but breaking the law isn’t.”
The crabapple trees lining the path were in full bloom, and the breeze seemed to carry their faint scent. Pale pink petals blanketed the ground, soft underfoot with a strangely distinct feeling.
Kong Wenyu reached out to catch a falling petal, then slowly opened his palm midair.
The petal slipped from his hand and danced away in the wind, landing lightly on the ground.
His hand slid into Nie Jun’s collar, fingers wandering aimlessly within.
“Jun-ge,” he said softly, “those villas next door—I bought one for you. What kind of layout do you like?”
Nie Jun kept his gaze on the ground, watching Wenyu’s hand from the corner of his eye.
“You want it fully furnished? Or do you want to try designing it yourself?” Wenyu asked.
“I didn’t tell you I was taking leave. That upset you.” Nie Jun’s voice was steady. “And now you’re not punishing me—you’re giving me a house?”
Wenyu’s hand paused where it was, mid-exploration.
Nie Jun wasn’t trying to corner him. After a brief silence, he said,
“You like Miss Long.”
Kong Wenyu’s breathing went quiet for a few seconds.
“‘Like’ isn’t quite the word. I need a fiancée. Right now’s the best time.”
“Is she better than Miss Ao? For you, I mean.”
Kong Wenyu gave a soft “mm” in response.
Nie Jun nodded and said nothing more.
“She won’t affect what we have. I can promise you that,” Wenyu said, his voice softening. “Do you mind?”
Nie Jun’s breath hitched faintly—Wenyu could feel it from where his chest rested on his back. A low exhale followed, but there was no hint of emotion in it.
The early morning breeze carried a sudden chill, brushing against their clothes and hair with a bite of cold.
Nie Jun’s voice, too, was tinged with that chill. A long pause had passed since Wenyu’s question.
“I don’t mind,” he finally said.
Kong Wenyu lay across Nie Jun’s warm back, the body heat seeping into him, yet he still felt a bit cold.
As if he didn’t quite believe him, he lifted his head to look.
Nie Jun said,
“I don’t want the house. I already have a place to live.”
“Don’t want to move somewhere bigger?” Wenyu asked. “I’ve got a lot of stuff.”
There’s no need, Nie Jun thought.
It wasn’t like Wenyu would come over that often. A few extra toiletries and two spare sets of pajamas would be more than enough.
The next day, when Kong Wenyu got home, the living room wasn’t its usual quiet. The overly bright space immediately made him realize that the sheer curtains, the ones meant to block out prying eyes, had all been taken down.
Man Mingzhi was sitting on the couch, sipping tea with a book in hand.
Kong Wenyu stood by the door, watching her for a moment, until she spoke up on her own:
“I’ve moved out of the sanatorium. Starting today, I’ll be living at home.”
Kong Wenyu showed little reaction.
“Then I’ll move out.”
“Do as you like,” Man Mingzhi replied calmly. “I’m not going back to the sanatorium.”
“Avoiding treatment isn’t exactly a wise choice,” Kong Wenyu said as he walked over and sat on the couch across from her.
“I’m not sick,” Man Mingzhi said.
Kong Wenyu curled the corner of his mouth but didn’t argue.
When Kong Wenyu came home the next day, the living room wasn’t its usual quiet self. The space felt overly bright, and it took him a second to realize—someone had taken down all the sheer curtains that usually blocked the view.
Man Mingzhi was sitting on the couch, calmly sipping tea and reading a book.
Kong Wenyu stood by the door and watched her for a moment, until she spoke first.
“I’ve moved out of the sanatorium. Starting today, I’ll be living at home.”
Kong Wenyu didn’t show much of a reaction. “Then I’ll move out.”
“Do as you please,” Man Mingzhi said. “I’m not going back to that place.”
“Refusing treatment doesn’t mean you’re fine,” Kong Wenyu said as he walked over and sat down on the sofa across from her.
“I’m not sick,” Man Mingzhi replied.
Kong Wenyu curled his lips but didn’t argue.
Man Mingzhi set down her coffee and looked him up and down. “Where were you last night? Came home only this morning? Don’t tell me you were working—I know my son isn’t the type to pull an all-nighter for his job.”
Kong Wenyu crossed his legs, but the stretch tugged on a muscle in his thigh, so he shifted back again.
Man Mingzhi glanced at him. “According to Hai Ming, it was just a sprain. That ankle should’ve healed by now.”
Kong Wenyu gave a soft “Mm.”
—
In the guardroom, Hai Ming leaned back in his chair, rolled up the sign-in sheet, and sighed. “Brother, looks like our good days are over.”
Nie Jun capped his pen and returned it to the holder.
Hai Ming tilted his chin toward the yard. “The madam’s back.”
Nie Jun followed his gaze.
“She’s not like the boss,” Hai Ming added. “She’s a perfectionist—super particular. Even our hairstyles and uniforms need to be on point.”
Nie Jun thought for a moment. “I heard the boss used to get punished a lot as a kid. One time he had to write a self-reflection just for bringing friends over on his birthday?”
At the word “self-reflection,” Hai Ming chuckled. “That was just a few years ago. He had his friends over to play ball indoors. Madam told him to take it outside, but he wouldn’t. Ended up breaking all the glass on the third floor.”
Nie Jun laughed too.
“Did I tell you she docked half his allowance?” Hai Ming grinned. “That family rule about no friends over? It got added after that stunt. He’s the one who wrote it into the house rules himself.”
They were still laughing when someone walked in to sign the attendance sheet.
“Captain, Jun-ge,” the guy said, greeting them as he signed in. Then, clearly nervous, he rubbed his hands together. “I heard the madam’s back… what do we do?”
Hai Ming and Nie Jun exchanged a look, both quietly amused.
“Same thing we always do,” Hai Ming said, stretching as he leaned back in the chair. “Keep your mouth shut, eyes down, and read the room.”
“Right, right,” the newcomer muttered with a sigh. “Looks like this house is gonna be a lot more lively from now on…”
Just then, the security monitor showed a black car pulling up to the front gate.
Nie Jun recognized the license plate—it was the same one from last night.
Kong Lingru’s car.
“Jinxed it,” Hai Ming muttered as he jumped to his feet, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack. As he slipped it on, he pressed his earpiece and said,
“Alright boys, shake it off—time to report in!”
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