The black car sped through the night. Two minutes—maybe less—then the sudden ring of a phone broke the silence inside the car.
Kong Wenyu hit the brakes at a red light and glanced at the screen. It was Fu Xi. Immediately, all interest drained from his face.
He ignored the call. When it rang again moments later, persistent, he finally picked it up.
“Where the hell did you go?!” Fu Xi barked as soon as the line connected. “I just finished talking about the new project. I looked up, and you were gone.”
Kong Wenyu exhaled and rolled down the window. “Getting some air.”
The whooshing wind noise reached Fu Xi on the other end. He fell quiet for a beat, then sighed. “Where are you even going for ‘air’? Hai Ming just got off the stage—I told him to find you.”
“No need. You guys have fun.”
“Yongwang stormed out and slammed the door,” Fu Xi lowered his voice in warning. “Looked ready to explode. Just be careful. Send me your location.”
Kong Wenyu gave a quiet laugh, though even he didn’t know where he was. “I’m heading home.”
He hung up, pulled over by the overpass, and got out to smoke.
There wasn’t much traffic at this hour. Under the streetlamp, the young green willows along the riverside swayed gently in the wind.
He smoked down to the end of the cigarette, let out a breath, and got back into the car.
His phone lay face-up on the passenger seat, looking oddly lonely. He picked it up—six or seven missed calls.
Two from Ao Yongwang. The rest, all from Nie Jun.
He stared at the list of red-marked missed calls until the screen went dark. Then he tapped to wake it again.
He called back. The line connected almost instantly.
“Don’t hang up,” Nie Jun said in a rush, clearly afraid the call would end again. “I got the earliest flight I could. I’ll be home soon.”
It sounded like he was in a crowded place—layers of voices and wind blurring together, plus occasional scratching noises as someone brushed past the mic.
“Don’t bother coming back.” Kong Wenyu’s voice was calm now, the wind ruffling into the speaker. “Go protect whoever it is you’re supposed to be protecting.”
Nie Jun took a deep breath, speaking gently, “Let me come home and apologize. Don’t stay mad—I’m already at the airport. Are you home or still out? I’ll come find you.”
Kong Wenyu scoffed. “Why should I wait for you?”
Nie Jun fell silent for a few seconds.
“If you’re not gonna talk, I’m hanging up.”
“Don’t.” Nie Jun rushed out the words. “I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
“Send me your flight info,” Kong Wenyu said coldly—and hung up.
He tossed the phone back onto the seat.
The night blurred outside as the car sped off—straight toward the airport.
Outside the terminal, Nie Jun stared at his phone until the screen turned dark.
“Jun-ge, was that your boyfriend?” Pang Ding handed him a bottle of water.
Nie Jun wasn’t sure if “boyfriend” was the right word. He gave a quiet, noncommittal “Mm.”
“I thought you liked someone already?” Pang Ding raised an eyebrow. “You went on a trip and came back dating?”
“It’s him.”
“Whoa,” Pang Ding laughed. “You said before you just wanted to check in, not interfere in his life. What, couldn’t resist?”
The airport was buzzing with travelers. Outside the massive glass windows, the night stretched endlessly across the horizon, lit with flashes of neon.
Nie Jun looked tense, constantly checking the time. “He’s young. Complicated family. I…”
“I get it. You feel protective,” Pang Ding interrupted, swinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Love’s like that. Messy.”
Nie Jun sighed. “It’s not even love yet.”
“Not yet?” Pang Ding frowned, thinking. “Well if you really like him, then go all in.”
“I am going all in.”
“Damn,” Pang Ding said, half-joking. “What kind of guy takes this long to win over? I wanna see what he looks like.”
Nie Jun looked up toward the windows. “Look up.”
Pang Ding followed his gaze.
Outside, the night sky stretched pitch black. The moon hung high, casting a cold, silvery glow.
Far off in the distance, the city lights painted the horizon in dusky blue, blending with the moonlight in a soft, haunting way.
The entire city sprawled out beneath their feet—quiet, mysterious, and waiting.
“I couldn’t reach it,” Nie Jun sighed.
At last, a crisp female voice echoed through the airport, announcing the boarding call. Nie Jun didn’t wait another second. He gave a quick wave and strode straight toward the gate.
Inside the café, the clock had just struck midnight. From the backseat of the car, Kong Wenyu peered out the window, watching the crowd spill out of the airport.
Nie Jun didn’t stand out at all. Dressed in a black casual suit with a low-brimmed cap that shadowed half his face, he practically blended into the night.
Kong Wenyu watched him for a moment. When Nie Jun raised his hand to hail a cab, he tapped the horn twice.
Maybe it was the emotion behind the sound, but Nie Jun immediately sensed something and looked toward it.
Two seconds—maybe even less—before he tucked his phone away and broke into a run.
He approached the driver’s side first, but the window stayed shut. The dark vehicle sat there like some dormant beast—harmless, but strangely unnerving.
Nie Jun knocked on the window.
The backseat window rolled down slowly, revealing Kong Wenyu’s face, pale and sharp like it had been chilled in frost, untouched by the glow of any streetlight.
Nie Jun froze, surprised to see him.
His only luggage was a thin backpack slung over his left shoulder, bulging slightly with unknown contents.
Kong Wenyu sat silently in the backseat, watching him through the half-open window.
Nie Jun seemed to realize he’d done something wrong—or at least that Kong Wenyu was angry. His expression grew solemn.
Then again, he wasn’t the expressive type to begin with, so the change was subtle at best.
Kong Wenyu’s face was even more serious. He stared at him for a long moment, unmoving. Then his lips parted: “Get in.”
Nie Jun had half-expected Kong Wenyu to make him run behind the car all the way home. He glanced toward the front—no driver, no bodyguards.
Kong Wenyu was alone.
Nie Jun reached for the driver’s door.
“Back seat,” Kong Wenyu said.
Nie Jun paused, then let go of the handle and walked around to the other side.
By the time he got in, the window had been rolled back up. Kong Wenyu turned to look at him, still with that stern, unreadable face.
Nie Jun opened his bag and pulled out a box, flipping it open for him to see. “It’s a tracking chip. Stick it on the inside of your watch or phone. More accurate than most on the market.”
Kong Wenyu glanced down but didn’t take it.
Nie Jun had spent the entire trip wondering what to say to ease his anger. “I thought there weren’t any field assignments the past few days…”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were taking a job as someone else’s bodyguard when you asked for leave?” Kong Wenyu cut him off.
Nie Jun hesitated. “Because you didn’t ask.”
“Would it kill you to give me a heads-up once in a while?” Kong Wenyu frowned. “Do I have to ask about everything before you say anything?”
“I didn’t think it mattered to you,” Nie Jun replied.
“And what does matter, then?”
Nie Jun didn’t answer. He realized trying to explain would only piss Kong Wenyu off even more.
He quickly calmed himself. “If you want, I’ll report everything to you from now on.”
Kong Wenyu turned his face away, saying nothing.
The car was parked by a busy road, but luckily, there was a row of short pagoda trees nearby casting heavy shade.
No one spoke for a long while.
Then Nie Jun said, “I’ll go up front and drive.”
“Don’t move.”
Kong Wenyu’s expression had softened. His pupils caught the warm yellow light from outside, making him look uncharacteristically pure and innocent.
Nie Jun’s eyes instinctively dropped to his tangerine-toned lips. His hand, halfway to the door handle, paused.
Before he could turn around, those very lips came toward him.
Warm. Soft. Just like he remembered.
Nie Jun froze for a moment, then let go of the door and instead wrapped his arms around Kong Wenyu’s waist.
In the swaying shade of the trees, Kong Wenyu hooked an arm around the back of his head and deepened the kiss.
It didn’t last long—maybe ten, fifteen seconds at most.
Then Kong Wenyu let go, his long lashes lifted as he gave a meaningful, almost playful smile.
Nie Jun followed him a few steps as he pulled back, stopping only once Kong Wenyu leaned against the seat again.
“Did you miss me?” Kong Wenyu asked.
Nie Jun’s gaze lingered on his face. Kong Wenyu was used to this kind of look—it always felt like being worshipped or treasured beyond reason.
“I did.”
Whether the anger had truly passed, Kong Wenyu didn’t say. He only lifted his chin slightly and said, “Drive.”
Nie Jun got out, slid into the driver’s seat, and turned on the headlights and heater.
He began driving toward home, and Kong Wenyu watched the road for a bit before suddenly saying,
“Let’s go to your place.”
Nie Jun hesitated for a few seconds before answering with a quiet, “Okay.”
He drove smoother than a chauffeur, but fast. Trees lining the road blurred past, and the median was a lush stretch of green. Now and then, they sped past fields of blooming flowers.
When Kong Wenyu opened his eyes, the car was already parked in Nie Jun’s residential complex. An hour had passed—he’d slept for quite a while.
He glanced at his phone: two missed calls. One from his secretary, one from Fu Xi.
Kong Wenyu called Fu Xi back. The call was answered almost instantly.
“Where are you? Ao Yongwang just went looking for you,” Fu Xi said without preamble.
“No idea,” Kong Wenyu mumbled, his voice rough and hoarse, “I just woke up.”
“Big news—Hai Ming beat Bit. Ao Qingqing didn’t react at all, but Ao Yongwang looked like he’d swallowed a bug,” Fu Xi said eagerly, gossip practically pouring out of him. “And I heard your bodyguard—Nie Jun, was it?—he’s even more impressive. Maybe let him fight next time—”
“Cut the crap,” Kong Wenyu interrupted.
Fu Xi chuckled. “The Ao siblings had a huge blowout. Your cousin had to pull them apart. Ao Yongwang swore he’s coming to find you and get an explanation. Ao Qingqing stormed off. And your brand-new fiancée, Miss Long…”
“I’m hanging up,” Kong Wenyu cut him off and stared at the car roof in the dark. “I’m laying low the next few days. Go find someone else to play with.”
“Nooo!” Fu Xi cried. “You ditched me on the last boat trip, and you promised to make it up to me this time! And don’t forget to bring your bodyguard!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Kong Wenyu saw Nie Jun standing outside the car, watching him through the glass.
In this dim light, it was almost impossible to see clearly—but his gaze was steady and focused.
“We’ll talk,” Kong Wenyu said flatly, then hung up.
Nie Jun opened the car door, resting one hand on the roof as he asked, “We’re here. Want to head up now?”
Kong Wenyu hesitated mid-movement. “Not going up? Planning to stay in the car?”
Before Nie Jun could reply, Kong Wenyu leaned back into his seat. “I’m fine with that. But think it through—the backseat’s pretty cramped.”
Nie Jun steadied himself on the car door. “Whatever you prefer… though maybe we should head up first and take a shower?”
Kong Wenyu laughed—not just a quick smirk this time, but a full, lingering laugh before he finally stopped.
Nie Jun leaned in to help him out, as if preparing to carry him, but Kong Wenyu said, “On your back.”
Nie Jun turned around without a word and crouched down in front of him.
There was a shift in weight as Kong Wenyu climbed onto his back.
Nie Jun stood up steadily, freeing one hand to grab his backpack from the car before heading toward the stairwell.
The building was old, without an elevator. The motion-sensor lights weren’t great either. Nie Jun had to tap the switch at every landing to get the lights to come on.
Kong Wenyu found it amusing. He remembered what Fu Xi had said and turned his head to look at Nie Jun in the dark. “Fu Xi said I should bring you along next time we go out.”
Nie Jun listened quietly, saying nothing.
“So tell me,” Kong Wenyu’s hand brushed over his chest, “with all those bodyguards around, why is he so fixated on you?”
The last time he’d been “disciplined” still lingered in his mind. The marks were long gone, but the memory still tingled.
Nie Jun, whether out of caution or by nature, remained silent.
He reached into a recessed nook by the door and retrieved a key, unlocked the door, and then put the key back as if just demonstrating something.
“Spare key’s kept here,” Nie Jun said.
Kong Wenyu murmured, “Mhm.”
A breath of moist heat hit his shoulder—it felt so warm, Nie Jun thought he might’ve been burned.
The living room lights flicked on, far brighter than the ones in the hallway. Kong Wenyu squinted, then spotted the large TV mounted across from the sofa.
Nie Jun followed his gaze and asked, “Want to watch some TV?”
“Right now?” Kong Wenyu chuckled. “You sure about that?”
Nie Jun set him down on the sofa, turned on the TV, and placed the remote beside him.
“Wait for me,” he said.
He headed to the kitchen. Soon the sound of running water and a knife chopping on a cutting board filled the air. Not long after, a plate of neatly sliced fruit was set in front of him.
Kong Wenyu looked at him. Nie Jun gestured for him to eat.
“Not showering?” Kong Wenyu asked.
Nie Jun crouched beside him, one arm propped against the table as he looked up. His eyes resembled a guilty Shola dog waiting for punishment.
Kong Wenyu slowly nodded, picked up a fork, and pierced a slice of pear, placing it into his mouth.
The juicy sweetness filled his mouth instantly. He swallowed down the excess juice, chewing slowly.
The TV remained on the VIP early-access preview screen, rows of aesthetically pleasing thumbnails displayed in a grid, with brief descriptions scrolling endlessly beneath them.
Nie Jun never took his eyes off him. Once Kong Wenyu finally looked up at the screen, Nie Jun’s gaze grew bolder, more direct.
That look was impossible to ignore.
Ever since Mr. Kong’s death, the Kong family had been shaky at best. Forced to return home and take over the conglomerate, he had to face his mother’s constant reproach and a second aunt who watched like a hawk, waiting for a misstep.
He couldn’t control his family. He couldn’t control the people in the company either. He’d tasted what it was like to be completely sidelined.
For someone born into ease and certainty, it was a brutal fall.
But in the grand scheme of things, none of it really mattered.
What mattered was the look in Nie Jun’s eyes—a look that said he didn’t mind being controlled.
Unlike everyone else, there was no fear in him, no agenda, no hidden motives.
Just complete surrender.
Like a wolf that had been tamed.
That feeling—being wanted, adored, chosen without question—was deeply addictive.
Like a cigarette in the dead of night.
Like a drink when your heart is breaking.
Like racing.
Like climbing without ropes.
Like a violin under moonlight.
Intoxicating. Impossible to resist.
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