After the auction, Lu Pingzhang was ready to leave, but Qiao Jin hadn’t eaten enough earlier and wanted to grab a bite. Uncharacteristically, they ended up staying a little longer.
Hou Wude strolled over, wearing rimless glasses. His female companion walked beside him, holding a plate and occasionally feeding him pastries with a fork.
Munching on his snack, Hou Wude still couldn’t let it go. “Brother Lu,” he said loudly, his voice raspy and phlegmy, like something was always caught in his throat, “if you wanted that mansion, you could’ve just told me. No need to get all competitive—makes it look like we’re just here to pad the auction house’s pockets.”
Lu Pingzhang studied him for a moment, then broke into a smile that gave nothing away. “If you really like it, a few million more or less doesn’t matter. Money, after all, is just a worldly possession.”
Hou Wude forced a few laughs and followed his gaze. Then he spoke deliberately, “Is that your younger brother? A real standout young man. The moment I saw him, I liked him right away.”
The fact that Lu Pingzhang had a younger brother wasn’t publicly known, though in their circle, it wasn’t exactly a secret. At first, rivals were eagerly waiting for the kid to grow up so they could witness a full-blown power struggle. But before that day ever came, tragedy struck—Lu Pingzhang’s entire family was wiped out in an accident.
There were no public reports at the time, but those in the know—especially competitors—had more or less caught wind of what happened.
When Qiao Jin had asked about it, Lu Pingzhang didn’t mind. Qiao Jin had been by his side during that darkest time; he’d made it through because of him.
But when someone else brought it up, it felt like a knife to the lungs.
Hou Wude feigned cluelessness. “Ah, my bad. Poor choice of words,” he said with mock innocence. “If not your brother, then he must be your latest favorite.”
Lu Pingzhang’s smile vanished. His lips and eyes dropped into a cold, displeased line. He stared at Hou Wude—his gaze sharp, dark, and unreadable.
Hou Wude didn’t back down. His lids drooped, and he returned the look with quiet malice.
They had unfinished business—new grudges layered over old ones.
One of Lu Pingzhang’s land parcels had been contracted to Hou Wude for ten years. The foundation had just been laid, and over six hundred million in presale revenue had already landed in Hou’s pocket. Then Lu Pingzhang had cut off payments to another one of Hou’s projects, forcing him to cough it all back up to the construction firm.
The whole back-and-forth had pulled in quite a few people.
Meanwhile, Qiao Jin had finished eating. He walked back slowly, holding a cup of warm water in his hands.
When Lu Pingzhang saw him, his expression instantly softened. “All full?”
Qiao Jin nodded. The steam rising from the cup made him look out of place amid the crowd of wine glasses and hors d’oeuvres.
Hou Wude sized him up with an obvious and unpleasant gaze. “Hello,” he said, extending a hand with a fake smile. “Surname Hou. I’m a business associate of Brother Lu Pingzhang’s. Mind if we become friends?”
Qiao Jin looked down at the outstretched hand. Just when it seemed like he might shrink back behind Lu Pingzhang, he smiled warmly and reached out for a brief, polite handshake. “Hello, I’m Qiao Jin.”
Hou Wude squeezed harder, tightening his grip just as they were about to let go.
Still grinning, he said, “The Xisheng–Ruiyi joint networking gala is next week.”
He kept his eyes locked on Qiao Jin, but his words were aimed squarely at Lu Pingzhang. “Hope you’ll attend with your… companion.”
Lu Pingzhang had planned to keep things civil for now—there were still unresolved accounts between them—but seeing this blatant provocation had his adrenaline spike. He suddenly had the urge to crush Hou Wude on the spot.
“President Hou—” Qiao Jin cut in lightly.
His tone was soft, but his grip tightened without warning. Hou Wude’s smug expression instantly changed.
Qiao Jin kept up that polite, insincere smile of his as he said blandly, “We’re friends now, right? I hope you’ll look out for me.”
He stood there, radiating confidence and sharp-edged charm, his words laced with more veiled sarcasm than anyone else in the room full of so-called “successful people.”
He was clearly no pushover.
Hou Wude’s expression twisted as he stared at him.
Lu Pingzhang had settled down by now. He reached out and took the cup of warm water from Qiao Jin’s other hand, taking a sip to check the temperature.
Hou Wude’s brow twitched several times, clearly restraining himself from saying something out loud.
Qiao Jin lightly let go of Hou’s hand, returning to that composed, aloof observer he always was. He turned to Lu Pingzhang. “Let’s go.”
Lu Pingzhang cast a look at Hou Wude through his half-lidded eyes—a glance heavy with unspoken threat and dominance. Hou Wude couldn’t get a word out.
He watched helplessly as they walked through the bustling hall, down a corridor lined in gold and crystal. His fingers tingled from the pressure, his expression dark and unreadable.
Outside the building, Qiao Jin held out his hand. Lu Pingzhang handed the cup back to him.
Qiao Jin took a sip of the warm water right in front of him.
“One day, I’m going to destroy Hou Wude,” Lu Pingzhang muttered, frowning as he studied Qiao Jin’s pale face. “Did you eat something cold? Is your stomach upset?”
Qiao Jin shook his head.
“Was it the wind when you got out of the car? Didn’t Xiao Chang turn on the heat for you?”
Qiao Jin stared at him for a full five seconds before answering, “I was just thirsty.”
As soon as they got in the car, Fu Linxiao called. Qiao Jin answered and said first, “I’m in the car.”
“How do you know Sui Ran?” Fu Linxiao didn’t pick up on his tone at all, teasing on the other end. “He asked me about you—what’s that about?”
“How would I know?” Qiao Jin glanced at Lu Pingzhang from the corner of his eye. Sure enough, Lu Pingzhang was watching him.
“I’m a little carsick,” Qiao Jin said. “We’ll talk when I get home.”
This time Fu Linxiao got the hint. He went quiet for a beat, then dropped the joking tone. “Lu Pingzhang’s with you?”
“Mm-hmm,” Qiao Jin replied.
Fu Linxiao gave a low “ah” and sounded much calmer. “Alright. Get some rest. See you at the gym tomorrow.”
After hanging up, Qiao Jin found Lu Pingzhang staring at him with a displeased expression.
Qiao Jin pressed his lips together and turned to look out the window at the night.
“Who’s Sui Ran?” Lu Pingzhang asked.
“Linxiao’s friend,” Qiao Jin replied, watching his own reflection in the car window.
“The one who wanted to buy your book?” Lu Pingzhang’s tone darkened, repeating firmly, “You’re not selling.”
Qiao Jin gave a small nod to show he understood.
He still had half a cup of water in his hand. The car was moving smoothly, so it hadn’t spilled yet.
Lu Pingzhang took the cup from him, grabbed a bottle of vitamin tablets from the car, unscrewed the lid, and dropped in two tablets. Once they dissolved, he handed the cup back. “Drink all of it.”
Qiao Jin glanced at his face. He didn’t particularly like the taste, but said nothing and drank it all.
The November wind was dry and merciless. Leaves, half-fallen from the trees lining the road, scattered aimlessly, picked up and tossed around by passing cars—too weak to resist.
Pedestrians hurried by with their heads down, their hair blown straight back by the gusts.
The temperature kept dropping without pity, but inside the car, it was warm and cozy. Qiao Jin curled up in the spacious backseat, the smooth ride keeping any motion sickness at bay.
While Lu Pingzhang was on a call, Qiao Jin had quietly fallen asleep against him.
His sleeping posture was proper, yet completely relaxed. It was hard for Lu Pingzhang to find any trace of the nervous, inexperienced boy from three years ago—but some of his habits remained just as familiar.
Back then, Qiao Jin had appeared during the most painful moment—when Lu Pingzhang lost his parents overnight, and Lu Boyang had been so overcome with grief that he kept begging Lu Pingzhang to give everything up.
Psychologists had failed to help with his insomnia and anxiety.
In the end, it was Qiao Jin who stepped in.
The reserved, upright young man whom Lu Pingzhang had once sponsored—connected to him now inextricably, because he’d received Lu Boyang’s cornea.
Every sleepless night Lu Pingzhang endured, Qiao Jin had been there, quietly sharing it.
At first, when his vision was still blurry, Qiao Jin could only rely on Lu Pingzhang’s breathing to tell if he was awake. Later, as his eyesight gradually returned, he would look over with that crescent-eyed smile—and for a moment, Lu Pingzhang would see Lu Boyang in him.
He knew he shouldn’t—couldn’t—treat Qiao Jin like he was Lu Boyang.
But he couldn’t help it.
Lu Boyang’s cornea lived in Qiao Jin’s eyes.
“Mm…” the person in his arms let out a faint hum, his brow furrowing slightly as if disturbed by a dream.
Lu Pingzhang signaled to Xiao Chang to keep driving around. Then he reached up and gently smoothed out the crease between Qiao Jin’s brows.
Qiao Jin relaxed again, sinking into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Lu Pingzhang watched him, just as he had three years ago when Qiao Jin had first fallen asleep in his arms.
—The sunlight that day had been beautiful, streaming through the wide, bright windows, casting a warm glow across the floor and furniture.
Qiao Jin, part of that home now, had warm skin too—smooth and calm, like satin soaked in strong rice wine.
Lu Pingzhang had been recovering then. He had stared at that scene—something that could finally be called “home”—for so long, not even realizing he was holding his breath.
Qiao Jin had just removed the bandages. His long lashes hung low, casting uneven, hazy shadows on his cheeks.
He was completely unaware of his own situation, still sleeping soundly.
Lu Pingzhang had leaned down and softly kissed his lips.
But the moment after, he had jolted awake and sat upright—horrified.
That kind of gesture didn’t belong to Qiao Jin.
Because Qiao Jin was his “little brother.”
That was the moment President Lu disappeared.
He spoiled Qiao Jin like a madman for a few months… then suddenly let go. Vanished without a trace. Didn’t show his face again.
Qiao Jin picked up his prescription from the doctor, clearly a little anxious. President Lu had been gone for half a month. Every time he asked someone about him, the answer was always the same: “He’s been really busy lately.”
“When will he be back?” Qiao Jin pressed. “I heard his birthday’s coming up. I got him a gift.”
The doctor smiled gently and stood up. “Once he gets through this busy period.”
Qiao Jin let his arms fall, dejected, and followed him to the door.
The doctor opened it. “Please stay inside. You shouldn’t be out in the cold right now—it could affect your recovery.”
Just before the door closed, Qiao Jin looked at him and said quietly,
“If President Lu isn’t coming home because he doesn’t want to see me… then I can leave.”
At first, he had only agreed to come because the doctor said President Lu needed company.
He’d been so happy when President Lu accepted him—when their time together felt warm and easy, like old friends.
But maybe President Lu was better now.
Maybe he didn’t need Qiao Jin anymore.
He looked a little dejected but had made up his mind.
“Please help me pass on a message to President Lu: thank you for taking care of me all this time. I’ll finish packing tonight and leave tomorrow.”
But Qiao Jin didn’t end up leaving the next day—because Lu Pingzhang came home that very night.
After half a month away, President Lu looked worn out. He seemed to have been drinking; his eyes were bloodshot and tired.
He stared at Qiao Jin, motionless.
Qiao Jin stood up from the couch, clearly uncertain what to do.
“You’re back… I didn’t think you’d come home. I was planning to go out tomorrow for interviews—some of the resumes I sent out finally got replies.”
Lu Pingzhang kept his eyes fixed on him, thinking: No. That’s not what the doctor told me this afternoon.
The message the doctor had relayed was clear: If you keep running from this, he’ll leave.
Qiao Jin was threatening him.
Maybe that day, when he kissed him, Qiao Jin hadn’t been asleep at all. Maybe he’d just kept his eyes shut.
He wasn’t Lu Boyang. Not even close.
They didn’t share a single thing in common.
Lu Pingzhang didn’t want to keep seeing him as Lu Boyang—as a “younger brother”—just to soothe his own loneliness.
He wanted Qiao Jin.
Standing tall, he looked down at him from above. Qiao Jin bit his lip and asked carefully,
“Have you eaten yet? The food today was really good.”
Lu Pingzhang hadn’t eaten—but he had no intention to.
He strode over, each step pulling his suit taut with commanding force.
Qiao Jin instinctively stepped back. The couch was right behind him; he tripped slightly and landed back on it.
Lu Pingzhang closed the distance in a few long strides, grabbed him by the front of his pajamas, and lifted him up.
The collar ripped in the motion, and Qiao Jin was tossed onto the large bed in the bedroom.
Before he could even sit up, Lu Pingzhang was already on top of him.
He had never looked at him like this before—always easygoing, always tolerant, always wearing the calm expression of an older brother.
Now, Qiao Jin’s heart pounded. He opened his mouth,
“President Lu…”
But Lu Pingzhang silenced him with a forceful kiss.
He unfastened his watch and slammed it onto the nightstand with a heavy thud.
Qiao Jin struggled briefly, but Lu Pingzhang pinned him down effortlessly. Then, with one hand, he pulled off the ring from his finger and tossed it aside.
What followed was a kiss full of heat and overwhelming possession, leaving Qiao Jin no room to move.
Lu Pingzhang’s body radiated heat—so intense it felt like it might burn him.
His eye sockets were sunken and dark, almost frightening. But Qiao Jin stared into those deep, unfathomable eyes—and willingly let himself fall into them.
He stopped resisting.
