Chapter 22

When Kong Wenyu came out of the bathroom, Nie Jun was still standing by the door, holding a towel, intending to dry his hair for him.

He tilted his head slightly to avoid it, not letting him touch.

Nie Jun explained, “Your ankle isn’t convenient right now. I was worried you’d fall, so I wanted to wait until you came out before leaving.”

Kong Wenyu walked around him, glanced at him briefly, and his gaze lingered only a moment.

No matter what he looked at, he always did so from above, as though bestowing a favor.

“You can leave now,” he said in a low voice. “Tomorrow I’ll inform Hai Ming to assign you as a personal bodyguard. Your salary and benefits will be increased.”

Nie Jun didn’t move.

Kong Wenyu’s steps were slow as he walked toward the balcony. His ankle made it difficult to put weight on it. Medicine had already been applied that morning, but now it was unclear whether it still hurt.

“I’m not doing this for that,” Nie Jun asked from behind, “Does your ankle hurt?”

Kong Wenyu didn’t turn around. Through the glass window, he looked out at the deep blue sea with its rolling waves.

His lean, tall back was silhouetted against the light, and the orderly contours were clearly visible—strong, precise.

He didn’t answer, and Nie Jun didn’t leave. He wanted to make himself clear: “How was my performance just now? If it wasn’t good enough, I can last longer.”

It had already been long enough. If Kong Wenyu’s expression hadn’t been growing worse and worse, Nie Jun would have surely tried to prove he could “control the time.”

Kong Wenyu’s hands were sore.

He hadn’t truly intended to test Nie Jun’s stamina—he simply thought Nie Jun was a bit too smug.

“Not bad,” Kong Wenyu said without turning his head. “I hope your technique will be as satisfactory as your duration.”

Nie Jun’s gaze didn’t waver. He stared openly at his back.

Kong Wenyu said, “Still not leaving?”

Nie Jun couldn’t just leave like that. “When will you test my technique?”

He had always given the impression of being reserved—not irritable, never using crude language, not even swearing.

For him to ask such a question so directly stirred Kong Wenyu’s curiosity.

He turned to look at him, his gaze mostly appraising.

Nie Jun hesitated only for a second. “Does it still count?”

Kong Wenyu looked at him, the corner of his lips moving slightly. “It counts.”

Nie Jun remained standing still, seemingly waiting for a specific answer.

Kong Wenyu recalled Nie Jun’s restrained breathing earlier, along with the controlled tension in his brows, and again found amusement in it.

“Anytime,” he said.

Whether Nie Jun believed him or not, this time he replied calmly, “Then I’ll leave.”

Kong Wenyu waved his hand. Before Nie Jun even stepped out the door, he had already turned back, his gaze once again fixed on the ocean outside.

Outside, the sea was calm—it was a rare good day.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kong Wenyu noticed Nie Jun’s black jacket lying just outside the bathroom. He had forgotten to take it with him.

There was a knock on the door from outside. Kong Wenyu’s brow eased slightly, yet even so, he waited a few seconds before saying, “Come in.”

The door opened—it was Yu Jiaduo.

He was dressed casually, standing by the doorway, closing the door behind him as he stepped inside wearing slippers.

The sound of his footsteps instantly broke the quiet space. At the same time, his hoarse voice rang out: “How’s your ankle? Have you had lunch?”

Kong Wenyu didn’t show any particular emotion. He glanced at him and said indifferently, “I’ll go eat later.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve only got one good leg left. I’ll have someone bring food up for you.”

Yu Jiaduo came closer, examined his ankle for a moment, clicked his tongue twice, and sat down uninvited.

Only then did Kong Wenyu ask, “You came for something?”

“No serious business,” Yu Jiaduo looked out the window for a moment, then said, “I heard that Lino’s subsidiary brand, Yier, plans to use a separate production line and cooperate with the Ao family?”

Kong Wenyu didn’t confirm or deny it, casually asking back, “Why?”

“I thought you didn’t like Ao Yongwang.”

“I didn’t say I was working with him,” Kong Wenyu said. “His sister.”

Yu Jiaduo looked confused. “Her older brother is still around. Business matters shouldn’t fall to the sister, right?”

Kong Wenyu kept his gaze on the distance, not turning his head. “Not necessarily.”

Yu Jiaduo studied him and speculated, “Ao Qingqing and Ao Yongwang are full siblings. She has a few small projects—mostly chain beauty salons. If you’re planning to cooperate with Ao Qingqing, that’s basically telling everyone that Ao Yongwang is trash. They share the same parents, the same bloodline. Will she agree to that?”

“Bloodlines,” Kong Wenyu repeated quietly, “aren’t worth much.”

Seeing that he wasn’t in the best mood, Yu Jiaduo assumed it was because of the ankle injury and tried to lighten the atmosphere.

“No wonder you chose Ao Qingqing as your fiancée—it turns out you admire her capability. I’ve always said, to win your heart, a woman has to be stunning and sharp-minded. You two really match.”

This wasn’t the right moment for him to push someone onto Kong Wenyu like he had a couple of nights ago. Kong Wenyu was about to tease him when another knock came at the door.

Both turned to look as Nie Jun pushed the door open, holding the largest tray in his hands, and appeared at the entrance.

On the tray were plenty of dishes—at a glance, lots of desserts, along with an even split of spicy and vegetarian items, all matching Kong Wenyu’s usual preferences.

He seemed slightly surprised to see Yu Jiaduo there but quickly composed himself and, in a deep, low voice, said, “It’s time for lunch.”

Kong Wenyu stared at him for a few seconds, then made a small gesture toward the table on the balcony.

Nie Jun carried the tray onto the balcony, carefully set everything out, placed chopsticks, spoons, and forks at his side, then took the empty tray, left without a word, and closed the door behind him.

The room fell silent again. Looking at the table now filled with food didn’t improve Kong Wenyu’s mood—instead, it left him feeling somewhat irritable.

“Damn,” Yu Jiaduo muttered, “your bodyguard is pretty cool.”

Kong Wenyu picked through the dishes, lifted a drink, and took a sip.

Tasteless, warm—plain water.

“Is this door soundproof?” he suddenly asked.

Yu Jiaduo was stunned. “What?”

Kong Wenyu downed two more gulps of the warm water.

Yu Jiaduo asked, “So when are you marrying Ao Qingqing?”

The irritation in Kong Wenyu’s expression deepened, and he let out a sigh.

Yu Jiaduo looked at him, baffled. “Though honestly, I don’t think marrying too early is a good idea anyway. Too many variables down the road—who knows what’ll happen.”

Kong Wenyu set down the water glass. He wasn’t in the mood to eat. Using a small fork, he absentmindedly poked at some fruit, taking bites here and there.

After a while, he pulled out his phone to check it. The screen was empty—no missed calls.

Nie Jun hadn’t even replied to his message.

That “I like it,” uttered in the heat of the moment—who knew whether it came from desire or just lust clouding his brain.

Damn it.

His hand was still sore.

Nie Jun had already returned to the first-floor dining hall with the tray. He took it straight to the collection station, and as he turned to leave, he spotted Xiao Lang leaning casually nearby.

Pretending not to see him, Nie Jun kept his eyes straight ahead, ready to walk past.

Only when he was right in front of him did Xiao Lang speak: “You’re the one who hit me, aren’t you?”

Nie Jun’s mouth naturally tightened; he had no intention of answering.

“I saw it,” Xiao Lang said, standing squarely in his way. “You went into Mr. Kong’s room and didn’t come out until noon.”

Nie Jun’s brow shifted slightly, but he gave no response.

“Acting all superior,” Xiao Lang ground his teeth. “What makes you any different from me?”

“I have things to do,” Nie Jun said, maintaining the last shred of courtesy.

“Don’t pretend you don’t understand.” Xiao Lang’s tone sharpened. “Can you honestly say you haven’t been in Kong Wenyu’s bed? That he hasn’t slept with you? That nothing happened between you two?”

Kong Wenyu had stepped on him with his foot, used his mouth, and earlier—his hand. None of that counted as “doing it.”

“No,” Nie Jun said coldly. “Move.”

Xiao Lang froze, clearly not expecting that.

Nie Jun didn’t seem like someone who lied.

“You beat me fair and square before. I wasn’t as skilled, and I accepted that…”

Nie Jun ignored him completely, brushed past, and started up the stairs.

Xiao Lang hesitated for two seconds, then followed. “Hey, sorry. I misunderstood. You just seem like his type, so I guessed.”

“What type?”

“In the past few years, he’s had people come to his room many times, always alone,” Xiao Lang said, glancing at him discreetly. “Their build and height were almost the same as yours. His taste is very… consistent.”

Nie Jun stopped walking.

The muscles in his shoulders tensed as he turned around, the lines of his frame sharp and powerful. His voice was low: “How do you know?”

He wasn’t bulky; his muscles were lean and evenly developed, giving him an air of restrained strength and freedom.

That wasn’t something one could achieve from casual gym work, nor in a short period of time. From their fight last time, Xiao Lang had already realized that Nie Jun’s combat experience was extensive.

“I overheard it by chance,” Xiao Lang said.

Nie Jun didn’t reply. His expression stayed composed, but the tension was obvious.

Xiao Lang added, “We’re both bodyguards. We’re bound to run into each other again. I’m just giving you a friendly reminder—maybe this is an opportunity.”

That blatant probing made Nie Jun frown.

Xiao Lang expected him to explain himself or at least say something to prove his innocence, but instead, Nie Jun stayed silent for a moment, gave him a single glance, then turned and walked away without a word.

He wasn’t provoked by anyone—and no one could anger him.

In that half a day, aside from washing up and delivering meals to Kong Wenyu, he hadn’t exactly been idle.

At the very least, he reviewed the previous night in his mind.

In the middle of the dense forest at night, he had left Kong Wenyu alone at the bottom of the cliff for sixteen minutes while he went off to find food.

If Kong Wenyu had left during that time, or if someone else had found him then—would everything that followed have still happened?

From now on, if something like that ever occurred again, he must never leave him alone.

Though realistically, a situation like that was unlikely to happen again.

The ocean liner had already begun its return journey. It moved in stops and starts and would reach the port within twenty-four hours.

The closer they got to the port, the stronger the signal became, and phones started vibrating more frequently.

Kong Wenyu picked his up to check: most of the notifications were from friends, a couple were from the sanatorium, and one from Kong Lingru.

He contacted the sanatorium, and after hanging up, he noticed his secretary hurrying over.

The man looked anxious, so Kong Wenyu asked, “What is it?”

“Miss Ao was photographed—with her bodyguard,” the secretary said. “On the day of boarding, at the pier. The two were standing very close, laughing together—it’s obvious what it looks like. The media is asking if they can publish it.”

Kong Wenyu said nothing.

That day, Ao Qingqing had met him privately to discuss their engagement status and future business cooperation.

The result had been amicable and mutually beneficial.

No one knew this, because Kong Wenyu had planned to announce it at next month’s chamber of commerce gathering—an official dissolution of their engagement: they would remain cooperative partners rather than future life partners.

Nie Jun, of course, had no idea either.

Seeing no reaction from him, the secretary sent him the photo. “Right now, no one else knows about this. Should we buy the rights to it?”

Kong Wenyu nodded and forwarded the image to Ao Qingqing.

She immediately called, demanding to know the situation.

Kong Wenyu said, “Until our engagement is officially dissolved, this will be the last time.”

Ao Qingqing asked, “Which media outlet took it?”

Kong Wenyu didn’t answer. “Control yourself.”

Still fuming, Ao Qingqing snapped, “I’m going to slap that guy! Walking around with his crappy little camera, thinking he’s holding a cannon, blindly shooting whatever the hell he wants.”