In fact, Qi Ji’s blush wasn’t just at the corners of his eyes. When he felt shy, the flush usually started from his ears, slowly spreading down to his fair neck and collarbones, then climbing up his cheeks before finally tinting the corners of his eyes.
Now, with his face mostly covered by a mask and bundled snugly, only his eyes were visible—just enough for Pei Yusheng to notice the slight redness.
Qi Ji blinked several times, his long lashes damp with moisture, forcing his voice into calmness: “…I’m fine.”
The man’s gaze didn’t move away. Instead, he lingered a moment longer on Qi Ji’s face, raising a hand to touch his cheek through the mask. “Really? Are you running a fever?”
Qi Ji hurriedly shook his head. “No, I really’m fine.”
Even through the mask, the warmth of his cheeks carried a familiar, reassuring scent. Qi Ji instinctively pressed his face against the man’s palm—a natural, practiced motion.
“Maybe it’s just a little stifling…” he muttered, eyes widening in sudden realization.
What had he just done? The reflexive movement startled him; he couldn’t believe he’d nuzzled someone so naturally, as if it were second nature, yet he had no memory of ever doing such a thing.
“Once we’re out of the elevator, it’ll be fine,” Pei Yusheng murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from Qi Ji’s forehead. “Just bear with it.”
His expression remained calm, voice untroubled, giving Qi Ji a momentary sense of relief.
Once out, Qi Ji hurriedly untangled his scarf to cool his flushed cheeks. True to Pei Yusheng’s words, the check-up itself took little time. All the necessary tests were performed, just without the long waits. Given Pei Yusheng’s special status, results came quickly. Qi Ji was in good health overall, better than during his frequent sleepless nights, though anemia and low blood sugar still needed careful management. Pei Yusheng even stayed an extra half-hour consulting the doctor about his low blood sugar.
Qi Ji felt lightheaded, reading the slew of medical instructions. He thought back to how he’d fussed over the little white kitten, and for a fleeting moment, he felt as if he’d become Pei Yusheng’s own kitten.
By the time they returned to the Rose Villa, it was nearly eleven. Qi Ji was nudged into drinking a bowl of red sugar lotus root soup, then finally allowed to rest.
Pei Yusheng’s back was healing—no longer bleeding frequently, dressing changes reduced to once daily. He no longer needed a specialized bed, just care to avoid prolonged pressure on the wound. After Qi Ji drank the soup, Pei Yusheng left him in the master bedroom.
After a day together, Qi Ji no longer felt resistance to Pei Yusheng, though the idea of sharing a bed still made him uneasy.
“I don’t sleep well,” he admitted. “I’m afraid of disturbing your wound.”
Pei Yusheng had changed into silk pajamas, the flowing dark patterns accentuating his elegance. Usually, he avoided flashy styles, but the injury justified the fine silk—leaving Qi Ji unable to avert his gaze.
“If we put something between us?” Pei Yusheng suggested.
“Something in between?” Qi Ji asked.
Pei Yusheng nodded. “That way, you won’t accidentally touch me, and hearing your breathing helps me sleep better.”
Despite having accompanied him for some time, the notion of “sleeping to the sound of your breath” made Qi Ji blush. After a pause, he murmured, “Okay.”
The bed was large enough, and with a barrier, he wouldn’t be pressed against Pei Yusheng.
“Then I’ll trouble you, Pei Xiansheng,” Qi Ji said.
“No trouble,” Pei Yusheng patiently corrected him. “Can you get that dried stuffed toy for me?”
Qi Ji fetched it from the drying area and realized the “barrier” Pei Yusheng meant was the long cat-shaped body pillow. He also brought back the freshly cleaned cat paw pillow he cherished, placing it between the two pillows to prevent himself from rolling over in sleep.
The cat paw pillow smelled faintly of sunshine, reminiscent of Pei Yusheng’s own scent. Qi Ji pressed his face into it before lying properly on his pillow.
With lights dimmed, only faint breathing could be heard. Qi Ji whispered, “Good night.”
Though unseen, he sensed a faint smile in Pei Yusheng’s voice.
“Good night. Sweet dreams.”
The deep, soothing tone felt like a bedtime story, enveloping him in warmth. Qi Ji felt almost accustomed to sleeping to this voice. That night, he slept deeply.
Morning found him momentarily drowsy. Despite sharing the bed, his sleep was undisturbed—better than in previous restless nights. The warmth at his side was oddly comforting, tempting him to linger.
Then he realized the source of warmth—his eyes flew open to see Pei Yusheng’s bare, toned chest, and the silk pajamas disheveled. He had unconsciously nestled into Pei Yusheng’s arms, pushing aside the body pillow.
The cat pillow and stuffed toy had been displaced, now aiding Qi Ji’s comfort while pressed against Pei Yusheng.
Qi Ji froze, wishing he could curl into the bed crevice—or go back to last night to prevent agreeing to share the bed.
He held his breath. Yet Pei Yusheng, fully awake, had waited quietly, letting Qi Ji wake on his own.
“Awake?” came the familiar deep voice.
Despite the early-morning intrusion, Pei Yusheng sounded calm and pleasant: “Good morning.”
Qi Ji stiffly extricated himself. “Sorry… Pei Xiansheng, I don’t sleep well, I might have disturbed you.”
“Not disturbed me,” Pei Yusheng reassured.
Still uneasy, Qi Ji asked, “Did I accidentally touch your wound?”
“No,” Pei Yusheng replied, sitting up. The loose pajamas slipped, revealing a broad chest. Qi Ji’s eyes darted away.
Adjusting the robe, Pei Yusheng said casually, “You didn’t touch it, and I slept better than usual.”
Relieved, Qi Ji checked the sleep monitor—shallow green, with over five hours of effective sleep. His worry finally ebbed.
Though startled awake, Pei Yusheng’s rest was worth it. Qi Ji felt a twinge of guilt for the displaced stuffed toy but was soon told by Pei Yusheng to put it aside and go wash up and eat.
Qi Ji obeyed, brushing off the oddity of Pei Yusheng speaking so casually about the toy.
After breakfast, he went to work at Yuntu. Midday, he received a call from Qi Mingyu:
“Hey, bro. When are you coming back tonight?”
Qi Ji, cheerful, replied, “Mingyu, I’m heading to the new district at Qingpu Lake. Might stay there for a couple of days, so not coming back yet.”
“…Okay,” came the slightly impatient response. Mingyu’s background had faint clattering sounds, like a can being knocked over.
After a moment, Mingyu added, “Take care, don’t overwork yourself.”
“Got it,” Qi Ji said warmly. “Qingpu Lake’s new park has started construction. When it’s done, I’ll bring you—this lake is gorgeous.”
“…Okay,” Mingyu replied quietly. “Don’t forget to eat on time.”
Qi Ji spent the afternoon at the new Qingpu Lake R&D park with the design team. The park, a product of much effort, drew attention immediately. The team, first on-site, needed to inspect and refine plans.
But everyone’s eyes were first captured by the lake itself—it was breathtaking.
Qingpu Lake, naturally formed, with clear waters and abundant flora and fauna, had never been polluted. Originally a resort, its scenery was striking. The team lingered nearly an hour, marveling at the beauty before moving on.
Even the surrounding areas were picturesque. The excursion gradually became a leisurely tour, filled with awe.
For Qi Ji, the feelings were complex. This was once a place of nightmares and harsh memories—underground arenas and past competitions. Though buildings were largely removed, his keen sense of direction let him recognize the old layouts, including arenas and performance halls.
The emotions were layered. Earlier visits might have stirred shadows of past trauma, but now, surrounded by beauty and happy colleagues, Qi Ji’s heart felt calm, full of anticipation for the park’s completion.
His design taking physical form outweighed past discomfort or fear. Everything had been rebuilt, including the darkness in his own past.
Grateful for the company giving him the chance to witness this transformation, Qi Ji felt a sense of closure.
The visit continued into the evening. After dining at the resort’s restaurant, they inspected another area. Qingpu Lake Park was vast—just touring took most of the day. Many office-bound colleagues were exhausted.
Qi Ji, though slim, had the best stamina. Trained from childhood and accustomed to daily practice, he easily carried heavy equipment, drawing admiration from his peers.
It was then he noticed a gaze directed at him.
As evening fell, the Qingpu Lake Park, which had looked so picturesque in the daylight, gradually revealed its vast, empty expanse. Silence stretched in every direction; only along the paths where the group had walked was there any sign of life. Everywhere else, shadows of trees dominated, giving anyone who lingered a shiver down the spine.
At first, Qi Ji thought he might be imagining things. After all, apart from the construction crew and a few on-duty staff, the park was closed to the public, leaving only their inspection team. Yet as he walked further, that gaze he had felt earlier remained fixed on him. Several times he looked back, but could not locate its source.
When his colleagues noticed him glancing back repeatedly and began asking what was wrong, Qi Ji finally gave up the search. If the person didn’t want to reveal themselves, why waste energy?
Qi Ji, always sensitive to hostility, sensed that this gaze carried little malice. Coupled with the park’s security, even if he did encounter someone, few could truly pose a threat. He remained cautious but did not dwell on it.
After the tour, the group, guided by staff, returned to the lakeside. They would be staying in small villas by the water that night.
These connected villas were originally part of a resort area, barely a year old, with first-rate facilities and environment. They had served as accommodations for Shanhai Manor’s guests and, after being sealed, remained unused. Rather than demolish them, they were temporarily preserved.
For the design department, staying here was a perk—at market rates, the villas would far exceed normal business trip standards. While many luxury services couldn’t be provided due to staffing shortages, the natural scenery alone was enough to refresh anyone’s spirits. Soon after arriving, the team headed down to the lake to enjoy themselves. Qi Ji declined the invitation, not wanting to miss any important calls.
By nine o’clock, it was the time he expected Pei Yusheng might call. The villa was spacious, each employee in a single room. Qi Ji unpacked lightly, and sure enough, Pei Yusheng’s call came through—not long, as he had two video meetings to attend and would likely be busy through the night. The call was simply to remind Qi Ji to get some rest. They chatted briefly before hanging up.
Qi Ji stared at the darkened screen, pondering his part-time role. Though it seemed important, his actual workload was limited. More than work, it functioned as a means of connection between the two of them.
Before, he had been focused on debt, unable to see beyond monetary ties. Now, knowing Pei Yusheng’s intentions, the same work held an entirely different meaning.
Perhaps…
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” he asked reflexively, then remembered how soundproof the villa was. But as he stood to answer, realization struck.
The lakefront villas were empty except for colleagues at the water. Who would be knocking at this hour?
He recalled the anonymous gaze from earlier that evening.
The sudden knock in the empty, quiet villa was strange—but Qi Ji barely cared. With his skills, few could truly take advantage of him. People like Pei Yusheng were rare exceptions.
Moreover, there was the peephole camera. Qi Ji approached the door and looked through. Seeing the visitor, he was genuinely startled.
It wasn’t a stranger. It was someone Qi Ji knew very well in this place.
Zhang Wu—the man who had guarded the ring during his fights.
Qi Ji had gotten along reasonably well with Zhang Wu. He had often warned him to stay safe and, knowing Qi Ji liked sweets, had even brought Belgian chocolate once. But after the performance match, Qi Ji had cut contact with everyone at the ring. It had been over three months since he’d last seen Zhang Wu.
Zhang Wu was alone, carrying no weapons, standing calmly in front of the door, though his expression betrayed some unease and urgency. His thick eyebrows slanted inward.
Qi Ji hesitated, then opened the door.
“小祁!” Zhang Wu’s face lit up, teeth flashing. “It’s really you!”
He surveyed Qi Ji from head to toe. “Are you alright?”
“Brother Wu?” Qi Ji asked. “What are you doing here?”
With colleagues possibly returning at any moment, Qi Ji motioned him inside.
Zhang Wu, in his early twenties, tall and well-built, with a closely cropped buzz cut revealing stubble, was formidable even among the skilled fighters at the ring—hence chosen as a guard. Yet in front of Qi Ji, he seldom showed intimidation. Having seen Qi Ji’s skill firsthand, he treated him delicately, as if fragile.
This attitude had started when he learned Qi Ji was a university student and had continued ever since. Now, stepping into the room, Zhang Wu seemed slightly awkward, even lowering his tall frame a little.
Qi Ji pulled out a chair and poured water. “Brother Wu, how did you know I’d be here?”
Zhang Wu accepted the water. “I was patrolling the East District in the evening. You looked familiar, so I watched a bit longer and realized it was really you.”
So the gaze from earlier was Zhang Wu.
Qi Ji frowned. “Patrolling here?”
“Yeah, I was hired by Xinghai to handle security,” Zhang Wu explained.
Sighing, he added, “Funny how things work. I’d been looking for you for ages without any news, and here you are.”
“Looking for me?” Qi Ji was surprised.
Zhang Wu nodded. “I tried to contact you, but info was scarce, and your phone never went through.”
Qi Ji remembered now—he had used a separate number for contacting the ring crew, which he had left in the locker room and never used again. He explained, and Zhang Wu just said, “No worries. You’re safe, that’s what matters.”
Seeing Qi Ji’s lingering confusion, Zhang Wu hesitated, then ran a hand over his coarse buzz cut. “The performance match… I was there too.”
Qi Ji stiffened at the words—memories of that nightmare resurfaced.
Noticing his reaction, Zhang Wu nonetheless continued, recounting the sequence of events.
“I wasn’t at the ground-level arena, so I didn’t know you’d be there. But I ran into Qian’s people. They asked for the key to store some special medicine. That warehouse held the most expensive drugs, rarely visited, and tightly secured. I only had one of the locks. I didn’t know why Qian suddenly sent someone there, but knowing his dislike for you, I stayed alert.”
At shift change, Zhang Wu followed Qian’s people to the arena. Having heard of Shanhai Manor’s high-priced auctions, he pieced together most of the truth from a few keywords.
Seeing that Qian was targeting Qi Ji, Zhang Wu couldn’t stay idle. He decided to help.
He manipulated the electrical system he oversaw—the most accessible part with minimal passwords. But the backup system could restart in two minutes, so he only had a tiny window, which he timed for the critical moment when Qi Ji’s restraints would be temporarily removed.
Yet when he went to execute the rescue, he ran into the waiting police.
“So…” Zhang Wu rubbed the back of his neck, cleared his throat, “I got caught.”
Qi Ji was shocked. “You’re alright?”
Unaware Zhang Wu had risked himself to save him, he asked.
“I’m fine,” Zhang Wu smiled. “They detained others from Shanhai Manor too, not just me.”
“And after being detained?”
“Just held, nothing serious,” Zhang Wu said, even reassuring Qi Ji. “We had meals too.”
He had been in trouble before, so two months in detention wasn’t daunting. The Manor’s misdeeds weren’t serious, and the detention was procedural.
Qi Ji felt guilty; if not for Zhang Wu risking himself, he might not have encountered the police at all.
“Two months? That long?”
“Not really,” Zhang Wu chuckled. “My tampering with the electrical system almost foiled the police’s plan. They grilled me alone, so two months isn’t bad.”
Qi Ji was speechless, unsure whether to praise or feel guilty.
Zhang Wu continued: “They asked about Shanhai Manor. I said what I knew. Two months later, I was released.”
“Then you were intercepted right after leaving?”
He rubbed his nose. “They said their boss would be the next owner of Qingpu Lake. Knowing I was familiar with the area, they rehired me.”
Qi Ji finally understood why he had met Zhang Wu here.
“So, you’ve been at Qingpu Lake this whole time?”
“No, only the past two days,” Zhang Wu said. The new boss had called him after learning about his work on the electrical system, asked some odd questions, then sent him to a technical school.
“I studied electrical work there for a month before coming here.”
Qi Ji laughed. “That’s perfect timing. I remember you always wanted to learn electrical work.”
“Yeah,” Zhang Wu said, rubbing his rough hand. “The school was really professional. I wanted to enroll in the 15k course before but couldn’t afford it. Turns out the teacher was a graduate of this school. Lucky me!”
“So, you finished the month’s study?”
“Two months left, but I started working here while waiting for the next term,” Zhang Wu explained. “The temporary power system at Qingpu Lake has occasional issues, so it’s good practice.”
Qi Ji exhaled in relief. “I’m glad you’re alright.”
After all, it was partially his own fault for cutting off contact to avoid remembering the ring.
Zhang Wu waved off the concern. “I’m fine. I just worry about you.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” Zhang Wu’s expression softened. “How have you been these past months?”
“I’m fine,” Qi Ji said, a little puzzled. “Did something happen?”
Though he hadn’t explained, seeing the police had likely reassured Zhang Wu that he had left safely.
“That medicine…” Zhang Wu began, hesitating, “did you notice its effects?”
Qi Ji froze—could it be the BSW991 the ring had given him?
Zhang Wu ran a hand over his stubbled head, sighed. “I don’t have much schooling. If I speak plainly and it offends you, don’t be mad.”
“How could I?” Qi Ji said. “Just tell me straight.”
Finally resolute, Zhang Wu said, “That drug makes someone obey another completely, unaware anything’s wrong. It’s like unconditional mental submission, and hard to remove. Think… has anyone treated you this way?”
“Meaning…” Qi Ji clenched his teeth, finally asking the question that had been forming, “do you have a master now?”