The crabapple blossoms only lasted a week. Looking out through the glass, Kong Wenyu saw just a few flowers left on the swaying branches, dancing with the breeze.
He had drunk two glasses of wine, and with the pleasant haze of alcohol, he ditched his next appointment with Longzhu.
Nie Jun watched him through the rearview mirror, only looking away when Kong Wenyu withdrew his gaze.
Kong Wenyu pulled out his phone and lit up the screen. Nie Jun helpfully said, “The password is one through six.”
Sitting in the back seat, the cabin was pitch dark except for the faint glow of the dashboard. Even in that dim space, the curve of his lips was clear—he smiled faintly.
“A password like that might as well not exist,” Kong Wenyu said.
He entered the digits and unlocked the phone. The photo album was already open, thumbnails neatly arranged in a three-by-three grid.
Kong Wenyu scrolled down twice but didn’t see any videos.
Nie Jun said, “The video you’re looking for is in the private album. You need to enter a separate password.”
Kong Wenyu found the hidden album and tried the same code—1 to 6. It also asked for fingerprint verification, so he handed the phone to Nie Jun.
Nie Jun kept his eyes on the road, reached back without turning, and pressed his finger to the phone.
Kong Wenyu looked down at the newly opened album and chuckled silently for a few seconds.
“Why are there women in here?” Kong Wenyu asked. “You dated girls before?”
“No,” Nie Jun replied evenly, eyes still on the road. “I haven’t dated anyone—guys or girls.”
Kong Wenyu didn’t say anything. The soft yellow light from the phone screen cast a warm, ambiguous glow over his face.
All Nie Jun had to do was glance slightly to the side, and he could clearly see through the mirror the delicate curve of Kong Wenyu’s eyelids and his long lashes.
“These videos,” Kong Wenyu said while tilting the phone and skimming through, “none of them are of me, right?”
“I’ve never recorded you,” Nie Jun said. “Better not to. It’s not very safe.”
They happened to hit a red light. Nie Jun gently braked, and the car rolled to a smooth stop. The world outside briefly came into focus.
The holly bushes in the median were sprouting new leaves. What had been deep green by day had turned a bright tender green—but under the night sky, the difference was hard to make out.
Kong Wenyu shut off his phone and set it on the center console. “You’ve got something to say to me?”
Nie Jun didn’t respond.
“You’ve been watching me since the teahouse,” Kong said openly. “Go on.”
Nie Jun stayed silent, eyes on the road.
A new, gentler song started playing in the car. Finally, as if gathering all his courage, Nie Jun asked, “About your fiancée—do you still have other options?”
Kong Wenyu turned to look at him in the dark. The light didn’t quite reach his face, but his eyes were sharp and clear.
“Didn’t you pick her for me?” he said calmly.
Silence stretched for half a minute.
“What’s wrong with her?” Kong asked.
Nie Jun chose his words carefully. “I hadn’t met her before, but from what I saw today… she doesn’t seem like she can hold her liquor.”
“And?”
“…Miss Ao would be better,” Nie Jun said. “She can drink for you.”
Kong Wenyu let out a low chuckle and turned to smile at the car window.
“You have someone else in mind, then?”
“Not yet,” Nie Jun replied.
“So you want someone from a good family, someone thoughtful, someone who can support me, and someone who can drink?” Kong summarized. “Anything else?”
Nie Jun said, “Nothing comes to mind right now.”
Kong laughed under his breath for a moment, then exhaled deeply. “When this mess is over, Jun-ge, I’ll make it up to you.”
Nie Jun wanted to ask—what for?
The red light turned green. He stepped on the gas, the car moving forward. His lips parted slightly, but in the end, he swallowed the words back down.
Kong Wenyu already had enough on his plate.
Wanting to lighten the mood, Nie Jun offered, “I just planted a bug in Ao Yongwang’s car.”
Kong Wenyu blinked and turned to look at him.
“And yesterday,” Nie Jun added, “I slipped one into Second Aunt’s bag when she left.”
“…”
“And,” Nie Jun said, “I think she might be pregnant.”
“???” Kong Wenyu froze. “How do you know?”
“I overheard her talking to the doctor,” Nie Jun said. “But it’s best to confirm—get a medical report or something.”
The confusion in Kong Wenyu’s eyes shifted into genuine surprise.
He stared at Nie Jun like he was sizing him up, eyes sweeping from the movement of his throat to the hands gripping the wheel.
Once he’d taken his fill, he smiled and said, “Jun-ge, you’re seriously impressive.”
“If you’re okay with it,” Nie Jun said, checking Kong’s expression in the rearview mirror, “I’ll try to plant one on Miss Long too.”
From the side, Kong Wenyu had a clear view of Nie Jun’s clean ear, his skin—not exactly fair, but definitely not dark either—and the steady pulse beating in his neck.
Kong Wenyu stared at the device on the console, a faint smile flickering in his eyes. “Why didn’t you plant one today?”
“I wanted to ask for your permission first,” Nie Jun said. “She’s your fiancée.”
Kong tilted his head with a smirk. Outside, rain had started to fall—soft and fine, like strands of velvet.
A vague itch stirred in his chest. He just barely smoothed the smile from his face. “If everyone ends up being bugged except me, it’ll blow up in my face.”
“It won’t,” Nie Jun said, pulling a small listening device from his coat pocket and placing it in front of Kong on the console. Eyes still on the road, he added, “You can pull that out at the right moment and claim you were bugged too. Push them to find the culprit—whoever can’t prove their innocence is the prime suspect.”
When they got home, Man Mingzhi was at the dining table eating.
Kong Wenyu came in, closed his umbrella, tossed a stack of documents onto the table, shrugged off his damp coat, and flung it carelessly over a chair before dropping into it himself.
“See for yourself,” he said lazily, propping his head up. “None of them are viable.”
Man Mingzhi wiped her hands with a napkin and began leafing through the documents, examining each page closely.
By the time Kong had finished eating and set down his chopsticks, she finally closed the file and held it under her hand. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Kong slouched in his chair. “If I remember right, the Chang family has some distant marital ties with the Long family. Maybe I can use that to work through Long’s side.”
Man Mingzhi replied, “Hard to say. You’re not officially engaged yet.”
Kong gave her a meaningful smile. “If I don’t use any of them, how can they trust me?”
She gave him a once-over, then looked away. “You already signed the papers. Don’t lose the girl and the war.”
“I won’t,” he said. “This is the perfect opportunity to figure out who around me is actually useful. Focusing on just one issue—that’s how you really lose everything.”
Man Mingzhi turned her eyes back to him, this time with more focus.
“You’re right,” Kong said, meeting her gaze. “Mom, I want to join them. I want to become part of their circle of shared interests.”
She stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook her head. “Can’t deny it. Most of the time you’re so dumb it’s hard to believe, but once in a while, you do get it. Go on then, son—go fight.”
Kong stood and stretched. “Then I’m off.”
As he started up the stairs, Man Mingzhi called after him, “Where are you going?”
“To sleep.”
She looked utterly exasperated. “The world’s burning and you can sleep?”
“I’m tired,” he said without turning back.
Man Mingzhi opened her mouth, clearly unable to swallow this conversation. “At this hour, Kong Lingru definitely isn’t sleeping. That girl’s a workaholic… You stop right there.”
Kong paused his steps but didn’t look at her. Instead, he glanced toward Nie Jun at the door. “Come up with me.”
Nie Jun froze. He hadn’t expected to be allowed into Kong Wenyu’s room tonight. Man Mingzhi stayed up late and from the dining room could see the upstairs hallway.
She remembered her doctor’s advice—to avoid clashing with him—and inhaled sharply. “If Kong Lingru were my daughter, you wouldn’t even be getting dinner tonight.”
Kong, long since used to this kind of talk, stayed calm. “As long as my mother stands, I stand. Take care of your health—my future still needs your support.”
He turned and headed upstairs.
Man Mingzhi slammed her cup back on the table in frustration.
Nie Jun hesitated, then kept his gaze straight and walked through the first-floor hallway, following Kong up the stairs.
By the time he reached the bedroom, Kong had already gone into the bathroom. Nie Jun stood at the door, listening to the sound of running water.
Soon, Kong emerged—his entire body damp.
“You go shower,” he said, rubbing his hair with a towel.
Steam drifted from the bathroom, thick and hazy. Nie Jun hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside.
When Nie Jun came out of the bathroom, Kong Wenyu was already sitting on the bed, head bowed, looking at his phone.
Nie Jun had put his clothes back on. Kong looked up, a bit surprised. “Heading home tonight?”
Outside, the rain tapped lightly against the windows, sometimes soft, sometimes a little heavier. Nie Jun remembered the time he’d been locked out in the rain. “I’ll wait until you fall asleep before I leave.”
Kong Wenyu didn’t smoke, but he let out a breath like he was exhaling smoke, his gaze circling briefly around Nie Jun’s lower half before pulling back.
The next second, he set down his phone. “I can’t sleep. Let’s do it.”
Nie Jun stood by the bed, gaze steady—neither too close nor too far, impossible to read. “Do you really want to?”
“You don’t?” Kong Wenyu’s eyes dropped again, “Doesn’t look like it.”
Where that gaze passed felt like fire. But Nie Jun didn’t move. “You don’t need to make it up to me like this.”
So that’s what this was about.
Kong Wenyu tilted his head, smiling faintly. The smile faded as he got out of bed. His robe, gauzy and loose, billowed softly with his movement, outlining his silhouette in teasing, shifting shadows.
It was Nie Jun’s favorite robe on him.
Kong walked up to him, face to face, grabbed his collar, and leaned in for a kiss.
It was an urgent kiss. His lips still carried the aftertaste of tea—bitter and fragrant, lingering.
Nie Jun let him kiss for a few seconds before finally wrapping an arm around his waist and responding.
The rain outside kept tapping rhythmically against the glass. After this downpour, the heat would settle in for good. Summer would officially arrive.
Kong reached for the zipper of Nie Jun’s jacket. Nie Jun let up a little, giving him room to move.
Their heartbeats quickened, breath hot enough to burn, their skin radiating heat.
Kong’s robe slipped away with barely a tug. Pushed backward, he fell onto the bed.
He lay there, his body sinking into the mattress, eyes tinged red, lips flushed and damp. “Aren’t you afraid my mom will find out?”
Nie Jun, already leaning down over him, paused. His thoughts tangled for a moment as he stared at Kong’s neck—then reason finally won out.
“Give me a minute,” he said.
He lowered his head and kissed Kong again, gently, as if to soothe him. Then he stood, smoothed his clothes, and walked out of the bedroom.
As expected, Man Mingzhi was still in the dining room downstairs, sipping tea.
Nie Jun was halfway down the stairs when she called out, “You. Twenty-four-hour bodyguard. Come here.”
He walked over and stood before her. Man Mingzhi set her porcelain cup down and looked him up and down. “Where did Kong Wenyu go today?”
His mind was still upstairs, on that bed, but his face remained composed and calm. “He met with Fu Xi first, then Miss Long and Ao Yongwang, and called Yu Jiadou and a few other contacts.”
“And the result?”
“Will take a few days.”
Man Mingzhi gave a light, amused scoff. “You’re his bodyguard, not his PR agent. Don’t talk in circles. In the future, keep it short, quick, and honest. That’s what I expect from you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
His lack of resistance, coupled with the conversation’s lack of substance, seemed to leave her oddly unsatisfied. She looked at him again.
Her sharp eyes were unforgiving, but Nie Jun remained unbothered beneath their weight.
“Go on,” Man Mingzhi finally said, lifting her teacup again and taking a quiet sip.
Nie Jun turned and left. Out in the night, he slipped through the back entrance. On his way up the fire escape, Shola the dog stopped him for a biscuit.
He re-entered Kong Wenyu’s bedroom through the walk-in closet, locking the door behind him.
On the bed, the silhouette beneath the thin sheet rose and fell in a slow rhythm—clear, steady, and laced with unspeakable intimacy.
Nie Jun checked the curtains and switched off the lights. As he undressed, he climbed onto the bed.
Kong Wenyu tilted his chin up, eyes open in the dark, and reached up to find the head buried against him. “What took you so long, hmm?”
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