Gu Fei suddenly kissed Lin Hening hard on the lips.
Up until now, aside from their very first kiss—when Lin Hening had taken the initiative with a quick, tentative peck—it had always been Gu Fei who made the moves. But those had been gentle, slow, and affectionate.
Tonight was different.
This time, the kiss was fierce, wild—something Lin Hening had never experienced before. It was hungry, almost feral, like a starving wolf pouncing on its prey, as if Gu Fei wanted to devour him whole. Every stroke of his lips, every grind of his teeth carried a primal heat.
It was so intense it actually hurt a little.
But that pain… was thrilling.
Before Lin Hening could even process it, the ache melted into a tingling buzz that set every nerve alight with excitement.
His heart pounded like crazy, and his fingers roamed across Gu Fei’s broad, muscular back.
And this—this was just foreplay.
Even just the prelude was already surpassing all of Lin Hening’s expectations, blowing away whatever mental benchmarks he’d had.
But as good as the appetizer is, the main course has to hold up.
If the entrée turns out overly salty, cloyingly sweet, or greasy beyond redemption, then the whole meal collapses.
Now, Lin Hening didn’t believe that a guy built like Gu Fei could possibly be let down by anything below the belt. But still—seeing is believing.
So he couldn’t help but be a little curious, and… maybe just the tiniest bit worried. Just a little.
When Gu Fei unbuckled his belt…
Even Lin Hening, who thought he’d seen it all, froze for a solid thirty seconds, utterly dumbstruck.
Oh. My. God. Not even those special edition European musclemen had anything this… extreme, right??
The moonlight tonight was lovely—spring was in full bloom, and all of nature seemed to be waking up.
As Lin Hening bit his lip in pain, Gu Fei’s pupils shrank in disbelief. “You and Xia Zhile… never did it?”
Lin Hening couldn’t say a word. His mind was filled with just one thought:
That thing is HUGE.
Gu Fei held Lin Hening close, soft for all of two seconds—then, like a man possessed, came the storm.
So fierce it wrung tears from Lin Hening’s eyes.
Gripping the bedsheet in pure regret, he cursed himself for ever having—without proof, based only on assumptions!—slandered Gu Fei as possibly being… undersized.
Oh, he was paying the price now. A steep one.
That night felt endless.
Lin Hening’s sharp, logical mind went from dazed to clear, then back to dazed, and stayed there, in a kind of blissful static.
By the end, there was only one undeniable conclusion left in his head—
Jackpot. He really, truly hit the jackpot.
Lin Hening skipped his morning run.
Not because he wasn’t disciplined—but because he literally couldn’t get out of bed. Even if he forced himself to stand, he’d walk funny. Running was completely out of the question.
Besides, from a health perspective, after intense activity the night before, rest was highly advisable.
So Lin Hening had zero guilt lying in bed soaking up sunlight, especially since the culprit was right there, doting on him like a VIP.
When Gu Fei finally left for work, Lin Hening flipped on the TV for background noise, but his body was still so drained he dozed off again. When he woke up, it was nearly two in the afternoon.
Refreshed, he took a shower. As he stepped out, his phone rang—his usual afternoon bubble tea delivery.
Gu Fei had landed a big contract today, so he couldn’t deliver it personally and had it sent via delivery app.
Lin Hening told the delivery guy to leave it at the front desk and went downstairs to get it himself.
“Mr. Lin, you’re glowing today!” the receptionist teased as they handed over the drink.
Lin Hening thought, Of course I am!
Having a boyfriend does wonders—especially when said boyfriend is basically a high-powered human blender in bed.
He took a sip of the tea Gu Fei had specially made for him—sweet but not too much—and discovered a bonus surprise in the bag: a box of fresh, still-warm egg tarts rich with buttery aroma.
He took a bite and his eyes lit up. Objectively better than the ones from the bar!
He snapped a photo giving the tart a big thumbs-up and sent it to Gu Fei, then polished off the rest in a few quick bites.
Tea in hand, he stepped out of the building—he was out of toothpaste and planned to grab some from the nearby supermarket. On the way, he sent Gu Fei a voice message on WeChat:
“What flavor toothpaste do you like?”
Just after hitting send, he spotted someone standing under the perimeter wall near the complex: Xia Zhile.
Clearly, he’d been waiting there on purpose. Their eyes met instantly, and the once-glum Dr. Xia suddenly perked up. “Hening!”
Lin Hening’s expression cooled immediately.
Xia Zhile rushed to explain, “No, no—I’m not here to pester you, or beg you to take me back.”
Really now? Then what the hell are you doing here?
Lin Hening continued sipping his tea and chewing his bouncy tapioca pearls.
Xia Zhile opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something difficult. “I just… I need a favor.”
“Nope,” Lin Hening replied instantly.
“Hey, Hening, wait!”
Xia Zhile scrambled after him, trying to keep up with Lin Hening’s long-legged, no-time-for-nonsense stride.
“Just hear me out! I just want you to tell Gu Fei…”
The moment Gu Fei’s name came up, Lin Hening stopped walking and looked him in the eye.
Xia Zhile looked even worse than the last time they’d met. The guy who used to change outfits twice a day was now still wearing the same suit from before.
“Tell him…” Xia Zhile’s voice broke. He looked like he was swallowing glass, pained and humiliated, but forced to humble himself.
“…please don’t fire me.”
Wait, what?
Lin Hening blinked. He didn’t get it.
Xia Zhile kept his head down, lips trembling, fists clenched.
The humiliation was palpable.
Ah.
Lin Hening suddenly understood the whole picture.
He knew that laughing would be like rubbing salt in someone’s wounds—that it was morally wrong.
But the thing was… Xia Zhile had turned himself into a walking joke, and when the punchline was standing right in front of you, how could you not laugh?
He laughed silently in his heart—hohohoho—but kept his expression perfectly composed, giving Xia Zhile at least a shred of dignity.
In just two days, Xia Zhile had single-handedly performed a masterclass in eating his own words and shooting himself squarely in the foot.
He’d puffed his chest up to Gu Fei, flinging threats like, “Go ahead! Abuse your power and fire me if you’ve got the guts!”
All high and mighty, fearless and cocky—until reality finally crushed that pride of his.
Now here he was, lowering himself to beg Lin Hening to speak on his behalf.
Xia Zhile had thrown all shame to the wind. He didn’t care about looking pathetic in front of Lin Hening anymore—hell, there wasn’t any pride left to lose.
The truth was, he’d already started regretting his outburst the moment he stormed off that day.
It had been rash, reckless, and incredibly short-sighted.
No matter how bitter he felt, gambling with his job and future was just plain stupid.
After he got home, the more he thought about it, the more anxious he became.
If Gu Fei was the petty, vengeful type, firing Xia Zhile would be as easy as making a single phone call to Xie Xun.
Ruitan Hospital was his turf. If they wanted to hire you, they could. If they wanted to fire you, no reason needed.
Xia Zhile needed that job. He still had a mortgage. He couldn’t just throw away the social status he’d fought so hard to earn—his golden ticket into high society.
This morning, the moment he stepped into the department, he could tell something was off. At first, he chalked it up to paranoia.
But during rounds, the way his colleagues treated him confirmed it—it wasn’t just in his head.
One of his coworkers, freshly promoted to deputy director, was already acting like he ruled the place.
The guy started nitpicking Xia Zhile’s patients, and Xia couldn’t take it anymore. “They’re my patients. You don’t need to micromanage.”
The deputy just smiled and replied, “Your patients, my patients—we’re all part of the cardiothoracic department. As the director, it’s my responsibility to check in.”
Xia Zhile was furious. What director? You’re just a ‘deputy’—don’t get ahead of yourself.
But it didn’t stop there.
Even the department chief—who was usually kind and easygoing—suddenly changed his tune, picking apart Xia’s work like a vulture.
He criticized him in front of everyone for supposedly forgetting a few routine tests on a patient.
“What the hell were you thinking?” the chief barked, publicly humiliating him.
Hospitals are never short on opportunists—those who cozy up to power and trample the fallen.
Everyone had heard about Xia Zhile’s spectacular public failure at the hospital director’s birthday party. Now they were ganging up to bully him at work.
But even that wasn’t the worst part.
Xia Zhile suddenly realized something even more terrifying.
Getting fired from Ruitan? That wasn’t the end of the world.
The real nightmare was this: his reputation was now in the gutter.
Offending Xie Xun was basically the same as offending half the entire medical community.
Forget about networking or rising through the ranks.
At this point, not getting blacklisted would be a miracle.
How was he supposed to make a name for himself now?
How could he ever put his talent to use?
How could he fulfill any of his dreams?
Xia Zhile was overwhelmed with helpless rage.
He never imagined that the man he’d looked down on the most—the one he’d mocked, belittled, and insulted face to face—would one day hold the power to destroy him with a snap of his fingers.
Panic clawed at him. He was so anxious he couldn’t sit still, couldn’t drink water, couldn’t even wait for the workday to end.
He took a half-day off just so he could rush to Lin Hening’s place.
Seeing Xia Zhile like this, Lin Hening felt… complicated.
Xia Zhile had always been proud, polished, and unbending.
After college, he’d refused to take a cent from his parents—insisting on making it on his own.
Even when he was broke and eating instant noodles without the pickled vegetables, he still made sure to look like a million bucks—rocking sharp suits that hid tattered clothes underneath.
That stubborn pride? Honestly, kind of dumb.
Not that there’s anything wrong with admitting defeat to reality—it just made Lin Hening feel a pang of bittersweet nostalgia.
How much things had changed.
He had a million sharp and sarcastic things he could’ve said.
But in the end, he held them in.
Damn, I really am a good person, he thought.
“He’s not that petty,” Lin Hening finally said. “If he had free time to mess with you, he’d probably rather spend it trying out new recipes and making more money.”
Xia Zhile blinked. “Really?”
Lin Hening replied, “If you don’t believe me, go ask him yourself. You made the mess—so clean it up yourself. You said those things—so own them.”
