Chapter 10

As Nie Jun stepped out, Secretary Ling happened to be coming up. Seeing him exit, Ling fell in beside him, heading out together.

While descending the stairs, Nie Jun asked, “What’s keeping you busy lately?”

Ling’s smile curved his eyes into crescents. “Preparing for next week’s yacht trip. After we get back, we’ll visit Madam. Are you going with us, Jun?”

“I’ll go.” Nie Jun thought for a moment, then asked, since Kong Wenyu was somewhat prone to seasickness, “Is the yacht trip because of the Ao family?”

“Yeah. Their family always has endless matters to deal with,” Ling said. “Since they’re related by marriage, it wouldn’t look good not to show up.”

Nie Jun rubbed his palms. “Are there no other potential marriage alliances?”

Ling’s answer matched Hai Ming’s. “Sure, there’s the Long family and the Di family—they both have daughters. But the Ao family match was originally arranged by Mr. Kong. He must have weighed all factors before choosing them.”

They reached the door. Ling stepped forward first, opening it and holding it aside so Nie Jun could exit.

Once outside, Nie Jun smiled slightly. “Even if the family background isn’t as strong, as long as the girl has a good temper and good character, it’s fine.”

Ling held the door, still half-leaning on it. “Miss Long is the gentle, considerate type. Back then, the Ao and Long families actually fought over our boss as a son-in-law.”

It seemed Miss Long really did have a very good temper; even Hai Ming had once commented on it.

“Not anymore,” Ling sighed. “When Mr. Kong passed away, our boss was still overseas. If Madam weren’t still here, the estate would’ve fallen into Second Aunt’s hands. Nowadays, having a son or daughter doesn’t matter much, but do you know why Second Aunt never got married? She’s been eyeing the family inheritance all along.”

Nie Jun nodded slowly.

Ling waved at him before heading back inside. “Don’t repeat any of this to anyone, Jun.”

“Don’t worry.” Nie Jun replied. Once Ling closed the door, he walked down the steps to find Hai Ming.

Hai Ming was in the security room smoking. When he saw Nie Jun walk in, he took one last drag, then stubbed it out in the ashtray.

“What did he say?”

Nie Jun washed his hands, drying them off as he answered, “He talked about the yacht party.”

Hai Ming exhaled the half-breath of smoke still caught in his lungs. “Bet they’re planning something.”

“What kind of something?”

“What else could it be?” Hai Ming said flatly. “Rich people always pull the same tricks. Keep your eyes sharp when the time comes—don’t let them actually slip someone into the boss’s bed. At a time like this, if they stir up a pregnancy scandal, things are going to blow up fast.”

Nie Jun looked at him.

“Don’t believe me?” Hai Ming said. “A few years back, our boss got set up on a yacht. Someone spiked his drink.”

That sounded familiar to Nie Jun. “And then?”

“He completely lost it. Every single bodyguard who’d been with him got replaced,” Hai Ming said. “Luckily, nothing happened.”

Nie Jun thought to himself, How could nothing have happened? Just because I’m not a woman, it doesn’t mean there’s nothing to take responsibility for.

“I heard he went back to the scene a few times afterward,” Nie Jun asked casually. “Was he looking for evidence?”

“Who knows?” Hai Ming said. “I wasn’t there.”

Nie Jun gave a small nod and fell silent.

Still uneasy, Hai Ming glanced at him. “They’ll definitely try to send someone to the boss’s bed this time. If I’m not around, you make sure things stay clean.”

Nie Jun paused. “How do I check?”

“Use your eyes, obviously.” Hai Ming looked at him strangely. “It’s not hard to tell. You can see it right away—posture, the way they walk, their expressions. You can tell if they’ve been ‘around.’ Search them. Make sure they’re not carrying anything—hairpins have to come off too. And remind the boss to use protection. Don’t let him use anything provided on the yacht; you carry your own. If he doesn’t take anyone, make up an excuse, say you’ve prepared things, and get him out of there.”

“And if he does take someone?” Nie Jun asked.

“Then check everything, send the person into the room, leave protection there, and keep an eye on the security feed. Don’t let anyone slip in.”

Nie Jun turned to look out the window, itching for a cigarette.

The pack was in his pocket, but he didn’t reach for it. He just exhaled and gave a low “Mm.”

Once Hai Ming had finished giving instructions, he added more lightly, “Maybe it won’t even happen. Who knows, maybe the boss will bring Miss Ao with him.”

Nie Jun’s thoughts darkened at the memory of Xiao Lang. His brows shadowed slightly, and he only gave another low “Mm.”

Just then, the internal phone rang.

Hai Ming cleared his throat quickly and answered. “Security room. Hai Ming.”

Kong Wenyu’s voice came from the other end, unreadable. “Bring Nie Jun over. Tie him up.”

Why “tie him up” instead of “have him come over”?

And hadn’t Nie Jun just left that room?

Hai Ming instinctively turned to look at Nie Jun.

Nie Jun didn’t understand, but the feeling wasn’t good.

“Five minutes,” Kong Wenyu said.

The line went dead. Hai Ming thought for two seconds, then decided to follow the order. He looked at Nie Jun. “The boss said to have me bring you over tied up.”

“?” Nie Jun blinked, baffled. “What?”

“The boss said, ‘Tie you up and bring you over.’ Within five minutes.” Hai Ming repeated, already glancing at the nylon rope hanging on the wall by the door.

Outside the window, on-duty guards occasionally passed by. Some stood farther off near the fitness equipment, either training or chatting in small groups.

Every so often, someone’s gaze drifted toward the security room, checking its movements.

Nie Jun was silent for a moment, then held out his hands, wrists together.

Hai Ming let out a breath of relief. While tying Nie Jun’s wrists securely, he asked, “What did you do?”

Nie Jun paused. “I don’t know.”

Hai Ming knotted the rope firmly and gestured for him to head out. “Then why? Did you say something wrong?”

Nie Jun suspected two possibilities:
One—Kong Wenyu had learned he’d beaten up Xiao Lang last night and wanted to punish him.
Two—his earlier actions had annoyed Kong Wenyu, and he still wanted to punish him.

Either way, it meant a punishment was coming. He accepted it silently.

Hai Ming escorted him into the building, up to the door of Kong Wenyu’s bedroom, and knocked. No one answered.

Aunt Zhu, dusting the banister on the stair landing, looked over and said, “He’s in the study.”

Hai Ming paused, puzzled. He glanced at Nie Jun, who stayed silent but didn’t look overly tense. “Did you say something you shouldn’t have?”

Nie Jun thought for a moment. “Not sure.”

Hai Ming led him to the study, unlocked the door with a fingerprint scan. The room was empty; Kong Wenyu wasn’t there.

Hai Ming first checked the hidden screening room—no one. He came back out, entered the inner suite of the study, and opened another concealed door.

The secret room wasn’t lit. Only a few skylights let in a faint trace of daylight.

Kong Wenyu stood with his back to the door, in front of a wall lined with tools whose details were obscured by shadow.

“Nie Jun’s here,” Hai Ming said softly.

Kong Wenyu didn’t turn around. He simply lifted a hand and gestured. Hai Ming understood, brought Nie Jun inside, and had him kneel on the dark gray marble floor.

Kong Wenyu reached for the nearest coil of hemp rope, stepped back, leaned casually against a deep red table, and waved Hai Ming off.

Hai Ming saw the signal, backed out silently.

Nie Jun knelt with his knees apart, hands bound and resting on his thighs, making no move to struggle.

Kong Wenyu took a cigarette from a wooden box on the table, placed it between his teeth.

After a moment, Nie Jun looked up at him and spoke first. “I’m sorry. Back in the bedroom earlier—I might have startled you.”

Click. Kong Wenyu tilted his head and lit the cigarette with a lighter.

He didn’t use to smoke, Nie Jun concluded.

Three years ago, there hadn’t been even a trace of tobacco scent on him.

Kong Wenyu exhaled a long stream of white smoke, turned slightly, and looked over his shoulder.

That gaze was hard to describe. This time Nie Jun didn’t look away; he watched the faint light outline the sharp lines of Kong Wenyu’s face.

Kong Wenyu took another slow drag, exhaled, and smiled faintly. Turning fully now, he leaned both hands on the table, eyes locked on Nie Jun. “You’re more interesting than Shola.”

Shola was a German shepherd Kong Wenyu kept—fierce-looking, obsessed with exercise. With the weather turning hot, the dog had been sent to the sanatorium to accompany Madam Kong.

Nie Jun had looked into it. He’d even seen pictures.

He stayed kneeling, legs braced apart, posture steady. The weak daylight still traced his tall, solid frame clearly.

Most of Kong Wenyu’s bodyguards kept their mouths shut because he disliked talkative subordinates. It made them seem wooden, dull.

Nie Jun was quiet too, but not wooden, not docile. Just… contained.

Kong Wenyu studied him for a while. His gaze lingered deliberately on the rope around Nie Jun’s wrists, and his tone carried layered meaning. “In the Kong household, I’m the only one allowed to hurt people.”

It wasn’t about Xiao Lang, then. Nie Jun felt a quiet sense of relief.

Kong Wenyu noticed the shift, and maybe because he’d just finished a cigarette, his voice came rougher, lower. “I hear you’ve been asking questions about my engagement. Do you have an opinion about it?”

His eyelids were thin. The curve of his upper lash line ran smoothly to the corners, lifting ever so slightly.

It gave him an oddly sharp yet perpetually half-drowsy look—a contradiction that made him harder to read.

Nie Jun realized what this was about and turned his eyes aside. “No.”

Kong Wenyu openly studied him, lips curved in the faintest, almost lazy smile.

Nie Jun added, “I probably just made some small talk with others. I wasn’t intentionally prying into your private affairs.”

It wasn’t clear if Kong Wenyu believed him.

He drew in half a breath from the cigarette, then crushed it out halfway through. Stepping away from the desk, he walked toward Nie Jun—slow, unhurried.

Nie Jun remembered last time in this same hidden room: Kong Wenyu had done the same thing. Wearing loose sleepwear, circling him at an unhurried pace, like someone inspecting prey mid-domestication.

“No thoughts at all?” Kong Wenyu asked lightly.

Nie Jun’s peripheral vision caught the rope in his hand. He hesitated, then answered, “No.”

Kong Wenyu stopped beside him, lowered his gaze, lips quirking just slightly. “Not honest.”

The faint smell of smoke clung to him, overlaid by the crisp coolness of mint leaves.

Nie Jun felt that he was being influenced.

 

He had made up his mind that no matter how Kong Wenyu pressed him, he would not give in.

 

Kong Wenyu did not press him, but pulled his foot out of his slippers and gently stepped on his thigh.

 

Nie Jun took a look and said nothing.

 

Kong Wenyu tilted his head, his drooping eyelashes casting a deep shadow. He looked at him intently, his foot climbing up little by little, as if to grope for the cufflinks in heispocket.

 

Nie Jun paused for a moment, and had to reach out to catch his mischievous toes.

 

“You dare to move even though you’re tied up.” Kong Wenyu said softly.

 

Nie Jun knelt on the ground and looked up at him. When he spoke, his voice was unusually low and his eyes were dark: “There is no such rule in the bodyguard code.”

 

“But you don’t look like you would object,” Kong Wenyu retracted his foot, bypassed his hand, stepped on it again, stepped directly between his legs, and rubbed it repeatedly, “You don’t look like you would object.”

 

Nie Jun held his breath, his dark pupils trembled, and were completely blocked by Kong Wenyu’s figure.