Nie Jun was firmly kneeling on the ground, his legs spread wide, posture open and brimming with restrained power.
Kong Wenyu placed a foot on his thigh, brushing a welt with the softer side of the whip before striking him lightly—not too hard, but enough to make contact.
“Make a sound.”
Nie Jun’s hand twitched slightly at his side, worried he might fall.
“I thought you liked it,” Nie Jun said calmly. “You didn’t stop me.”
“Didn’t I?” Kong Wenyu countered.
He actually had.
When Nie Jun’s thrusts had become too fast and hard, Kong Wenyu had pushed against his leg.
But he’d looked utterly lost in it, flushed from the corners of his eyes down to his neck.
Nie Jun, already on the edge himself, had simply gone along, finishing together with him.
Now, Kong Wenyu sat half-leaning against the desk. As the tension drained from him, his brows furrowed.
Nie Jun’s eyes flicked to his legs as his hand reached out to soothe him. “Does it hurt? I—”
The moment his palm touched, Kong Wenyu blocked him with the whip, turning his head with a sharp tsk.
“Kneel properly.”
Nie Jun held his gaze for two seconds before obediently lowering his hand.
Kong Wenyu took a hemp rope from the wall. “Raise your hands.”
Nie Jun lifted both hands, bringing them together and holding them up in front of Kong Wenyu.
With a cold expression, Kong Wenyu tied them, then tapped his shoulder with the whip—right where a previous lash mark had barely begun to bleed.
Nie Jun offered no resistance, as still and unyielding as a mountain in the dead of night.
“Do you know why I’m punishing you?” Kong Wenyu asked.
Nie Jun lowered his head slightly, remaining silent.
Kong Wenyu looked at him as though he were a caged animal—trapped, already claimed. The corner of his lips curved with quiet satisfaction. “Seems like you don’t.”
Last night, during the final round, Nie Jun had removed something Kong Wenyu had deliberately made him wear.
Even recalling it now, Kong Wenyu felt a strange, uncontrollable rush inside him—something almost spilling over.
The whip landed on his abs, neither too hard nor too light, leaving a faint flush on the skin. Kong Wenyu looked at it with something like appreciation, running his fingers along the edge of the handle.
“Don’t leave a single mark on me. I’ll only say it once. If there’s a next time—get out.”
Nie Jun’s lips tightened, his gaze lowered for a long moment before he said,
“Yesterday, you asked me what I wanted.”
Kong Wenyu glanced at the tense lines of his arms, his thoughts unreadable.
“Let’s hear it.”
“I want the code to your study,” Nie Jun said.
That was something extremely private—within the Kong household, only Secretary Ling and the head of the security team knew it. In a critical moment, it could mean survival.
But Kong Wenyu just looked at him for a few seconds, then agreed:
“Have the secretary tell you. Get your fingerprint added too.”
Nie Jun froze briefly, then nodded.
Kong Wenyu’s lips curved faintly:
“You can’t bring anyone else in.”
“I won’t,” Nie Jun said with certainty. “Okay.”
Kong Wenyu scrutinized him for a moment longer, then tossed the short whip onto the floor and tilted his chin:
“Get out.”
Nie Jun stood, his hands still bound. He was tall, broad-shouldered, long-legged—his posture always carried a natural, unforced sharpness.
Kong Wenyu beckoned:
“Come here.”
Nie Jun stepped forward and raised his bound hands.
Kong Wenyu untied the rope. Nie Jun’s eyes flicked to the marks it had left on his wrists.
“Let me see,” Kong Wenyu said.
Nie Jun extended his wrists toward him. The distance between them shrank; he didn’t avoid it. When he lowered his gaze, his eyelashes looked especially long.
Nie Jun found himself staring at the faint shadow cast beneath Kong Wenyu’s lower lashes until Kong Wenyu asked,
“Does it hurt?”
Nie Jun quickly shifted his gaze away, narrowly avoiding being caught.
“No. Feels good.”
“…” Kong Wenyu withdrew his eyes.
“Get some medicine from the doctor—or buy it yourself at the pharmacy. Have Hai Ming reimburse you.”
Nie Jun said nothing. Kong Wenyu waited a beat, then asked:
“Still not leaving?”
Nie Jun bent down, picked up his shirt and jacket, and put them on quickly. Just as he was about to go, he hesitated.
Kong Wenyu leaned against the desk:
“If you have something to say, say it.”
Nie Jun asked cautiously:
“Do you think last night felt better than the time before?”
Kong Wenyu tilted his head slightly, as though he didn’t understand what he meant.
“This time felt better, right?” Nie Jun pressed. “I can match you.”
Last night had been a storm—wild, unrestrained, and far more complete in its release.
The aftermath, however, was harsher.
Through the reflection in the glass, Kong Wenyu caught sight of the hickey on his own neck. Irritation flared—and with it, a sharper edge of excitement.
“Keep it up,” he replied vaguely, pulling his gaze back. “Still not leaving?”
Nie Jun showed little reaction whether he was criticized or praised—his emotions could only be read in subtle, fleeting shifts.
Kong Wenyu watched him walk out the door. After a moment, he inexplicably let out a quiet laugh.
The next day was overcast. A light breeze stirred as they left, carrying the scent of impending rain.
Because Nie Jun had been notified in advance, he had checked the weather forecast and brought an umbrella.
When Kong Wenyu came down the steps, he glanced once at Nie Jun’s black windbreaker. After they got into the car, he finally lifted his chin slightly:
“Where’d you get that?”
Nie Jun, pleased to be sitting in the front passenger seat, lowered his head and looked at his jacket before replying,
“Bought it in the south last year.”
“It’s nice,” Kong Wenyu remarked.
As the car pulled out of the gates, he added,
“You have two of the same one.”
“Yeah, I bought two.” Nie Jun didn’t catch his meaning immediately. After a moment’s hesitation, he asked,
“Do you want to wear it?”
Kong Wenyu’s gaze flicked, catching Nie Jun’s reflection in the rearview mirror.
“Then what will you wear?”
“I’m not cold,” Nie Jun said. He slipped off the jacket and handed it over.
Kong Wenyu took it, removed his own dark trench coat, and put on Nie Jun’s. He rolled the cuffs up once.
With his natural model-like frame, the slightly larger size didn’t look awkward on him at all—it seemed almost like a designer’s intentional oversized piece.
The driver kept his eyes forward, practically invisible.
The car was so quiet that only the hum of the engine could be heard.
Nie Jun wanted to say something but hesitated, conscious of another person’s presence.
Kong Wenyu looked out the window for a while. In the reflection of the single-pane glass, he watched Nie Jun’s profile. After observing for a bit, he asked,
“What do you want to say?”
Nie Jun paused.
“I was thinking… if I get the chance, I’ll buy you one that’s a size smaller.”
“This one doesn’t work?” Kong Wenyu asked.
“It works,” Nie Jun said quickly.
“Then I’ll take this one,” Kong Wenyu replied. “You can buy yourself a new one.”
Nie Jun made a quiet sound of assent. Kong Wenyu’s gaze lingered on his eyelashes in the reflection. If the timing had been different, he would have reached out to touch them.
“Do you need reimbursement?”
“No,” Nie Jun said.
Kong Wenyu leaned back in his seat without answering. After watching for a few moments, he gave a soft laugh and turned his eyes away.
The car drove on. Since Kong Wenyu said nothing, the interior remained silent.
Nie Jun kept his eyes on the road ahead but, every so often, checked the rearview mirror to see what Kong Wenyu was doing—frequently.
It wasn’t the first time. His gaze always followed him.
Whether Kong Wenyu stood in sunlight or shadow, in the study or on the bed… Nie Jun’s eyes sought him constantly.
Kong Wenyu allowed it.
The new rehabilitation center was even more secluded than the last. There wasn’t even a sign that said it was a clinic—only the words Yuanshan Villa.
Flowers bloomed in clusters. Lush greenery and intertwined trellises framed the pale blue walls, making the entire building look like a piece of clear sky on a sunny day.
Because there had been no prior notice, Madam Kong did not come out to greet them.
Kong Wenyu stepped out of the car, still wearing Nie Jun’s jacket.
“Wait here.”
Nie Jun held an umbrella, silent. Hai Ming, who had gotten out from the back seat, answered,
“Got it.”
Hai Ming watched Kong Wenyu walk into the rehabilitation center, then turned to look at Nie Jun standing there in just a short-sleeved shirt.
“You’re not cold?”
Nie Jun pulled his gaze back.
“I’m fine.”
Hai Ming studied him for two seconds, then walked over to Kong Wenyu’s car window, shading the glare to peek inside. On the backseat lay Kong Wenyu’s trench coat, left behind.
“Captain,” Nie Jun called out.
Hai Ming straightened and gave him a deliberately teasing smile.
“What is it?”
“I want to request two days off,” Nie Jun said, finally making up his mind.
“I’ll be back on the sixth.”
He had taken leave before, but very rarely.
Hai Ming mentally reviewed the upcoming week’s schedule, then glanced at him again.
“Alright, nothing’s going on the next few days. Go ahead.”
Nie Jun nodded, then hesitated.
“Do I need to ask Mr. Kong for permission?”
“It’s better to tell him,” Hai Ming replied. “You’re his personal bodyguard now.” He paused. “There’s no travel assignment these next few days, just that weekend banquet. I’ll handle that.”
Nie Jun looked unsure. Thinking he was being generous, Hai Ming lightly jabbed him in the shoulder.
“Now, tell me what’s really going on between you and the boss?”
The jab landed right on a whip mark. It didn’t hurt, but it sparked a faint tingling itch, as if last night’s welts were in the middle of healing.
Nie Jun pressed his shoulder.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? You two are sharing clothes.” Hai Ming clearly didn’t buy it.
“Hiding something? We’re brothers, aren’t we?”
“Really, nothing, Captain Hai,” the driver interjected with a laugh, leaning out the open window. “Boss said Nie’s jacket was warmer, so he borrowed it.”
Hai Ming glanced at him, then at the black umbrella in Nie Jun’s hand, and finally let it go.
“Today’s colder than usual anyway.”
They waited by the entrance for a while, but nothing stirred inside the rehabilitation center.
Nie Jun checked the time.
“I’ll go in and take a look.”
“I’ll do it,” Hai Ming said.
Then he caught himself—Nie Jun was now the personal guard. After a moment’s hesitation, he added,
“Fine, you go.”
But barging in after being clearly told to “wait outside” was risky. Kong Wenyu was authoritarian; any act of disobedience could easily be taken as a challenge to his authority.
Still, Nie Jun hurried under the quiet trellises, umbrella in hand. As soon as he stepped into the lobby, he heard Kong Wenyu’s voice. Through the wall, he couldn’t make out the exact words, only that the tone was cold.
“The weather’s bad. Take care, Second Aunt,” Kong Wenyu was saying.
From the other side, Kong Lingru’s voice came sharp:
“You secretly moved my sister-in-law to another facility without telling anyone? I’m still a member of the Kong family. Wanting to visit my own relative is perfectly reasonable—why keep me in the dark?”
“Hiding it from you didn’t stop you from finding the place,” Kong Wenyu said with a faint smile.
“Second Aunt, you’re impressive—your people are very capable.”
Kong Lingru stared at him for a moment, the corners of her mouth dipping.
“I’m leaving.”
Her high heels clicked against the floor—neither light nor heavy—until the sound grew closer. The lobby doors opened.
Nie Jun stepped aside to make way.
Kong Lingru walked out, followed by two bodyguards.
Nie Jun stayed still. When he held himself motionless and silent, his presence became almost imperceptible, yet Kong Lingru still turned her head slightly, giving him a quick sideways glance.
Nie Jun ignored it and didn’t move.
Kong Wenyu kept watching her retreating figure until she had completely exited the rehabilitation center’s gates before withdrawing his gaze.
Nie Jun pushed open the wooden door and approached him.
“I told you to wait outside.” Kong Wenyu looked at him, his displeasure obvious. “Why did you come in?”
“I was worried about you,” Nie Jun replied, meeting his eyes steadily.
Kong Wenyu nodded, uncharacteristically letting it go instead of pressing the issue. Instead, he asked,
“What were you talking to Hai Ming about just now?”
Nie Jun followed his line of sight out the window. From this angle, he could see part of the main gate, where Hai Ming was pacing alone.
“I told him I wanted to take a few days off,” Nie Jun said.
Kong Wenyu made a questioning sound.
“Why didn’t you ask me?”
“I didn’t get the chance,” Nie Jun explained quickly, then added to make up for it,
“Can I?”
Kong Wenyu calculated the timing. He also wasn’t keen on bringing Nie Jun along to Fu Xi’s social banquet.
“Fine. If something comes up, call me.”
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