It was 11 o’clock in the morning when Hai Ming tied Nie Jun in, and it was 12:30 when Nie Jun came out alone.
Seeing that he was in a good mood, but his face looked strange, Hai Ming tried to comfort him: “Did I embarrass you?”
Nie Jun paused, his underwear stuck to his body, and he felt very uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” Hai Ming was a little embarrassed because he had just eaten a meal yesterday. “I have to follow the boss’s instructions. You should be more careful when dealing with him in the future and don’t say the wrong thing again.”
“It’s okay, captain,” Nie Jun just wanted to leave quickly, “I want to take half a day off in the afternoon.”
Hai Ming looked at him, and the muscles in Nie Jun’s thighs tightened.
“Go ahead,” Hai Ming said, “I’ll make up the leave application for you.”
Nie Jun said thank you, waited for him to enter the duty room, and immediately turned around to push his bicycle and flew home.
When he got home, he rushed into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and instantly poured cold water over his head.
Calm down.
While rinsing himself with the cold water, Nie Jun stripped off his clothes. Under the steady stream, he exhaled and looked at his reflection in the mirror.
He brushed all his hair back, revealing a smooth forehead and deep-set eyes.
Kong Wenyu had thin eyelids, fair skin, black pupils, and a delicate, straight nose—a classic Chinese face.
—He was the complete opposite of Kong Wenyu.
Although Nie Jun stood here physically, his mind had already drifted back to that dim secret room.
Kong Wenyu had forced him to climax with just his foot.
Nie Jun closed his eyes, resigned, grabbed his soiled underwear, and scrubbed it under the showerhead.
After washing it clean, he hung it out to dry on the balcony, tossed his discarded clothes into the washing machine, and went back to the bathroom to continue his shower.
The solar heater had already started producing hot water. Nie Jun stood under it for a few seconds, then reached out to twist the knob toward the cold side.
In an instant, the hot water turned icy. He leaned against the wall, letting the cold stream run over him until the chaos in his head finally eased.
It felt so good.
A dim room. Scorching heat. The faint scent of body wash.
Only this time, the storage room was even smaller, rocking gently like waves.
Kong Wenyu knew very clearly—he was dreaming.
Because that kind of swaying only existed in dreams.
The sound of waves blended with heavy breathing; he couldn’t tell which one felt hotter.
“I can…” The man hidden in the darkness hesitated mid-sentence.
They had no protection.
Kong Wenyu let out a soft “Mm,” unclear whether it was a suppressed groan or permission.
The searing heat poured into him without any barrier, almost burning him alive.
As his desire ebbed and the sweat evaporated in torrents, his mind began to clear, just enough for him to fight back against the drug coursing through him.
“Do you have any paper?” Kong Wenyu asked, still breathless.
The tall man took off his jacket, wrapped it around him, then rolled the sleeves up over Kong Wenyu’s wrists.
After doing that, he searched his pants pockets and only found a card—completely useless.
Kong Wenyu paused, then said into the darkness, “A pen.”
Clearly, the man didn’t have one. He had already taken off his T-shirt to wipe Kong Wenyu’s body clean and asked softly, “What for?”
Kong Wenyu opened his mouth, but suddenly, the sound of a door being shoved open echoed outside. The man looked at him.
“Stay here,” he said after two seconds. “I’ll go distract them.”
Kong Wenyu reached out and grabbed him, missing twice in the darkness before finally catching his wrist.
He closed his eyes briefly, trying to sit up. The man helped him.
The heat in Kong Wenyu’s body had lessened. His mind was still a bit dizzy from the drug’s aftereffects, but he was completely calm now.
He pushed the man into a corner and whispered, “Don’t make a sound.”
The man held onto him, refusing to let go.
Kong Wenyu lowered his gaze, glancing at that hand. His eyebrows, lifted slightly, looked cold under the shadows—so different from just moments ago.
“I’m fine,” Kong Wenyu said after a pause, then added, “I need to go out.”
The man tested him, calling softly, “Kong Wenyu?”
Kong Wenyu gave a quiet “Mm,” didn’t hesitate, and walked toward the door. He suddenly yanked open the rough iron door of the storage room.
Pale gray-blue dawn light flooded in. The door creaked sharply—
Kong Wenyu’s eyes flew open. He woke up.
Nie Jun snapped awake the moment he saw the caller ID.
He had never dialed that number himself, but it was burned deep into his memory.
He swiped to answer, staying silent at first.
Until Kong Wenyu’s voice came through: “Hello?”
Nie Jun’s lips parted. “It’s me. You were looking for me.”
A deep, slightly hoarse voice.
That sound was almost identical to the one he had heard three years ago in that cramped, pitch-dark ship’s storage room.
Kong Wenyu was silent for a moment. “What are you doing?”
Nie Jun glanced at the clock—3 a.m.
“Sleeping,” Nie Jun replied, then asked again, “Is there a mission I need to go out for?”
But if there was, it wouldn’t be Kong Wenyu himself calling to notify him.
As expected, Kong Wenyu completely ignored the question and instead asked, “Why didn’t you call me?”
Nie Jun didn’t understand.
After a pause, Kong Wenyu’s cool yet faintly husky voice came again: “I remember giving you my number that day. Why didn’t you call me?”
Nie Jun paused before explaining, “There was nothing I needed to call about.”
“Then I guess you don’t need my number at all.”
“I need it,” Nie Jun said.
Kong Wenyu neither agreed nor disagreed, and Nie Jun still didn’t understand the meaning behind this call.
“Can I call you, then?” Nie Jun tried asking.
“Why else would I give you my number?”
“If there’s nothing important to—”
“You can still call,” Kong Wenyu cut him off. “Just report on your daily life.”
Nie Jun’s lips parted. “…That’s not part of a bodyguard’s duties. Is this something only I have to do?”
Using that same familiar, unhurried tone, Kong Wenyu said, “Yes. Can you accept it?”
Nie Jun was speechless. For a moment, he wondered if Kong Wenyu might be drunk, but his voice sounded steady, clear—he hadn’t touched a drop.
What reason could there be for him to call a bodyguard—who wasn’t even a direct subordinate—in the middle of the night, perfectly sober?
Even if something had happened between them last night—over clothes, at that.
Nie Jun couldn’t figure it out. “Is there something you need?”
A faint chuckle came through the phone. “Take a guess.”
He couldn’t.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Nie Jun asked, not even expecting to be right.
Kong Wenyu was silent for a long time before deflecting with his own question: “You’re working tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“If you can’t wake up in the morning,” Kong Wenyu said, “you’re allowed to take the day off.”
“No need,” Nie Jun replied.
Kong Wenyu’s brows shifted slightly—though no one could see it through the phone. “Then why did you take the afternoon off today?”
Because I had to go home, deal with the soiled clothes, and take a shower.
Nie Jun didn’t answer. Kong Wenyu didn’t press for one either. He lay on his back in his bedroom, staring up at the dim, gray ceiling. In the distance, floor-to-ceiling curtains blocked out even the slightest breeze.
The mess beneath him was still untouched, and the room carried a lingering, heavy scent. In this atmosphere, he recalled the faint, clean smell of tea soap from that storage room.
He lowered the air conditioning temperature and said into the ever-silent phone, “Go to sleep.”
When the call ended, Kong Wenyu couldn’t fall asleep. He lay there, eyes open, lost in thought.
After a few minutes, he got up, pushed open the window for some air, then went to shower.
When he came out, he was finally calmer. He picked up the bedside landline and called Hai Ming.
Hai Ming answered quickly. His professional instinct kept him silent at first, but his familiarity with Kong Wenyu made him speak: “Boss?”
Kong Wenyu cleared his throat. “Come upstairs.”
Usually, the secretary was the one to notify about external matters. Kong Wenyu rarely called about security issues himself.
At that hour, Hai Ming tensed immediately, thinking something serious had happened. “I’ll be right there.”
He arrived quickly—less than two minutes later, he was knocking on Kong Wenyu’s bedroom door.
“Come in.”
The door opened quietly and closed halfway behind him. As Hai Ming stepped inside, Kong Wenyu said, “Turn on the lights.”
Hai Ming switched them on and lowered his head as he moved forward, stopping at a cautious distance from the bed.
Kong Wenyu didn’t give him time to overthink. Propping himself up against the headboard, he cleared his throat and said, “There are a few things these next few days. Write them down.”
“Yes, sir!” Hai Ming responded immediately.
Kong Wenyu turned his head slightly toward the gray curtains, staring at them for a moment before saying, “Regarding the marriage arrangement with the Ao family—I intend to cancel it.”
Hai Ming was shocked but kept his expression neutral.
“I want to switch out a team leader and promote Nie Jun,” Kong Wenyu continued.
Hai Ming was stunned again. “Replace who?”
“He’s from Team A. Just replace the leader of Team A.”
“But the leader of Team A hasn’t made any mistakes, and he’s competent,” Hai Ming reminded him. “Do you really have to replace him?”
“Not necessarily.” Kong Wenyu looked at him. “He could just take over as captain.”
The current captain, Hai Ming, instantly tensed up. His posture straightened like a poplar tree, and he replied solemnly, “I’ll arrange it immediately. The A-team leader will work on odd days and take even days off.”
Kong Wenyu nodded, then said, “Wait.”
Hai Ming looked at him.
“No, that’s not good.” Kong Wenyu dismissed his earlier suggestion. “Is there another arrangement?”
Hai Ming wasn’t sure what he meant and tentatively asked, “Form a Team C, dedicated to special missions?”
Kong Wenyu lifted his chin slightly, as though considering it.
Hai Ming continued while thinking aloud, “Right now, our leave schedule isn’t clear enough. Eight o’clock is a heavily used time slot. The guys who work night shifts are too exhausted, and those coming in for day duty have to head out immediately and aren’t fully prepared.”
Kong Wenyu didn’t say whether it was good or bad. “This wasn’t an issue before?”
“It was. But if we form a special task team, should we pick members from the existing ones, or bring in new people?” Hai Ming explained. “I haven’t figured out a practical solution yet, so I haven’t proposed anything.”
After a pause, Kong Wenyu said slowly, “Ask Nie Jun tomorrow.”
Hai Ming didn’t know how Nie Jun had climbed the ranks so fast. He wasn’t even surprised—more like he felt a kind of inevitable, as-if-the-dust-had-settled acceptance.
Hai Ming wrote it down, then cautiously asked, “If we cancel the engagement with the Ao family, are we still going to discuss marriage this year?”
“With whom?” Kong Wenyu glanced at him.
“The Long family, the Di family,” Hai Ming suggested.
Kong Wenyu looked at him for a few seconds, then smiled slightly. “You think they’re suitable?”
Hai Ming had just discussed this exact topic with Nie Jun a couple of days ago, so when it came up again, his expression turned a little awkward.
Kong Wenyu noticed. “Second Aunt asked you about this?”
“It wasn’t Second Aunt, it was Nie Jun,” Hai Ming said. “He brought it up before, and we just talked briefly.”
Kong Wenyu stared at him, then smiled again. “What did he say?”
“The Long family is good,” Hai Ming said. “Miss Long is gentle, considerate, and better suited for you.”
“That’s the conclusion you two came to?”
Hai Ming didn’t dare answer, just glanced at him and lowered his eyes.
Unexpectedly, Kong Wenyu said, “That works too.”
