A knock at the door interrupted them.
Nie Jun froze for a moment.
Kong Wenyu gritted his teeth, fingers tightening as he tried to brace himself against the slippery bathroom wall.
He was close.
Nie Jun had planned to take things slower, draw it out—but the knocking came again, more urgent this time.
Beads of moisture clung to Kong Wenyu’s temple—whether sweat or water, it wasn’t clear. “Don’t stop.”
Nie Jun didn’t hesitate. He gripped Kong Wenyu’s hand, pressing him closer.
He knew exactly how to push Kong Wenyu to the edge—what rhythm, what pressure, what intensity would bring that final, overwhelming release.
When it was over, he leaned against him, motionless, waiting for Kong Wenyu’s breath to steady before slowly pulling away.
Nie Jun hadn’t reached his own end, but he stopped anyway—bringing the moment to a quiet close.
He quickly toweled off his hair and stepped out to open the door.
It was the hotel staff, returning to clear the table.
The man entered, making a few trips between the dining table and the kitchen, quietly tidying up.
Not long after, Kong Wenyu emerged from the bathroom as well, towel in hand, drying his hair.
Without a word, the two of them slipped into the bedroom together.
Kong Wenyu never liked talking after intimacy—he preferred to just lie there. He sank into his side of the bed and lifted a hand, beckoning Nie Jun.
Nie Jun locked the bedroom door behind them.
“Turn off the light,” Kong Wenyu murmured lazily.
Both of them disappearing into the bedroom and shutting off the lights—any outsider seeing that would draw their own conclusions.
Nie Jun didn’t turn it off. “Wait a bit. They’re still outside.”
Kong Wenyu was clearly restless, but said nothing more. His patience tonight was unusual.
Nie Jun walked over to the bed and leaned in, studying him.
His gaze traced over those long lashes, the sharp nose, the faint flush on his chin—the mark likely left from pressing against the bathroom wall.
He leaned down and gently kissed Kong Wenyu’s lips. “Let’s not bring the chef again.”
Kong Wenyu opened his eyes to look at him. They were close, intimately so—this was the kind of moment that only happened afterward.
“My arm’s fine,” Nie Jun said softly, his voice husky and low, as if coaxing a child. “Having someone else around… it’s a bit awkward.”
“You didn’t come out just now,” Kong Wenyu murmured, wrapping his arms around Nie Jun’s neck. “So I used my hand. For you.”
He said this as he let go with one hand and reached downward, only to be stopped halfway by Nie Jun, who grabbed his hand and pulled it up to kiss it.
“No need,” Nie Jun said, threading his fingers through his and giving them a firm squeeze. “Go to sleep.”
The man, backlit by the soft light, looked impossibly gentle. Kong Wenyu stayed silent, just watching him.
Nie Jun waited a moment, then tried to get up—only to be pulled back, their hands still tightly linked.
After a long pause, Kong Wenyu said quietly, “Jun-ge.”
Nie Jun smiled. “What is it this time? Another way to make it up to me?”
But Kong Wenyu didn’t smile. His eyes were stubborn, intent, filled with the kind of determination that left no room for retreat.
“It’s fine,” Nie Jun said after a moment’s silence. His tone softened. “Go do what you need to do.”
Over the next few days, just as Nie Jun had predicted, Kong Wenyu turned down all appointments and stayed home.
A week later, there was finally movement from the board of directors.
During that time, Kong Wenyu had kept his distance, ignoring the media frenzy and the witch hunt outside. He neither explained nor made any public appearances.
Then came the day he was scheduled to go to the company to sign the shareholding agreement. The Kong family’s bodyguards were deployed in full force, moving down the broad avenue in a convoy—slow, steady, and intimidating.
Nie Jun, ever cautious, rode in the same car as Kong Wenyu. He’d even replaced all the drivers up front with bodyguards.
Even Haí Míng, with his broken leg, came along—he was better at coordinating logistics.
Once they arrived, Haí Míng switched to a wheelchair and waited outside the company building while Kong Wenyu went in. Nie Jun, with his injured arm, didn’t go in either. Instead, he sent in two of his more dependable men to accompany Kong Wenyu into the meeting room, one on either side.
They waited near the door. Haí Míng scanned the area but didn’t spot anyone suspicious.
“Must be cursed,” he muttered, patting the armrest of his wheelchair. “First the madam messed up her leg, then the boss twisted his ankle, now I’ve got a fracture. In just a few months, wheelchairs have practically become standard issue.”
“My arm’s broken too,” Nie Jun said.
“That’s a statistical fluke,” Haí Míng replied. “I’m telling you, we should ask a spiritual master to check out the house. We might’ve brought back something unclean during Qingming when we went to the cemetery.”
Nie Jun just smiled without replying.
Something else occurred to Haí Míng, and he looked up at Nie Jun. “You know the boss’s been going out every night lately? Did he ask you to go with him?”
Nie Jun paused. Haí Míng explained, “Madam asked me the other day, but with my leg busted, I couldn’t follow him even if I wanted to.”
Nie Jun shifted his arm, which was still in a splint. “I didn’t know.”
“Right, your arm’s out of commission too.” Haí Míng thought for a moment but couldn’t come up with anything. “The driver must know, but he’s not going to say a word.”
“Don’t push it,” Nie Jun said. “If he finds out we’re snooping, he’ll get mad.”
“Obviously,” Haí Míng sighed. “He’ll definitely get mad.”
Just then, no more than five minutes later, Ao Qingqing stepped out of a black business van in heels and strutted over.
“When’s Kong Wenyu coming out?” she asked, climbing the steps and giving the two of them—one with a busted arm, one in a wheelchair—a once-over. “Heard things weren’t exactly peaceful. Didn’t know it was this bad.”
Two bodyguards followed behind her—Xiaolang and Bitt stood on either side of her, and her glittery pink purse was hanging from Xiaolang’s hand.
Both guards blinked, exchanged a glance, and then couldn’t help but smirk. Bitt nearly laughed out loud.
Haí Míng was clearly embarrassed. “Not sure when he’ll be done. You could try calling him.”
Ao Qingqing chuckled and flipped her hair. “I’ve called. He’s not picking up. I need to talk to him—it’s serious.”
“It’s a sensitive time,” Haí Míng said with a forced smile. “Everyone’s just being cautious.”
Ao Qingqing nodded and looked around. “Is his second aunt here?”
“She should be,” Haí Míng replied. “I saw her car.”
“Then we’re gonna be here a while,” she said, gesturing for Haí Míng to move aside. “Let me sit for a bit.”
Haí Míng stood up—without using his crutch—and carefully balanced on one foot.
Ao Qingqing sat herself in his wheelchair and started scrolling on her phone.
Kong Wenyu finally emerged quite a while later, his secretary trailing behind him.
Ao Qingqing immediately put away her phone and stepped toward him.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the busiest man in the world,” she said cheerfully, stepping in front of him. “I sent you a video—take a look.”
Kong Wenyu pulled out his phone. The video was short—just three or four seconds. In it, someone in a black coat, black mask, and cap darted past the corner of a street. Just beneath the cap’s brim, one sharp eye briefly flashed in view.
“That’s the guy who kidnapped Kong Lingru’s driver that night,” Ao Qingqing said, arms crossed. “Kong Lingru says it was someone I sent. They even found a listening device in her bag. Is this your guy?”
“It’s not,” Kong Wenyu said, closing the video on his phone. His gaze swept past Ao Qingqing and landed on Nie Jun in the distance.
Nie Jun held his stare for a beat, then quietly looked away first.
“I still have the footage from when Xiaolang got jumped,” Ao Qingqing said, smiling into the wind. “Same outfit, same height and build, even the same shape of hand showing under the sleeve. And you’re still saying it’s not your guy?”
Kong Wenyu had just come out of a smooth, successful board meeting, so his expression was relaxed, even a bit indulgent.
Ao Qingqing gestured for Xiaolang to hand over her bag. She dug out a contract and offered him a pen. “I’ve already taken the blame. Kong Lingru won’t be coming after you anymore. As compensation, sign this.”
Kong Wenyu gave it a cursory glance, clearly impatient. “That factory’s full of outdated machinery.”
“Kong Lingru and Ao Yongwang are coming at me together. How am I supposed to fight back without a new factory?” Her tone sharpened. “Just sign it. Two years—I’ll bring Ao Yongwang to his knees.”
“Keep dreaming.” Kong Wenyu replied coolly. “New machinery, labor, designers, marketing, exhibition fees—every step costs money. You can’t keep it afloat.”
“Then give me a few people. And a check,” Ao Qingqing insisted.
Kong Wenyu let out a long sigh.
Even beneath her flawless makeup, Ao Qingqing looked worn out. “I’ve already moved out of the house. Sold my car and my jewelry. I’m at the point where it’s either win or die.”
He stared at her for a few seconds, then finally picked up the pen and scribbled his signature on the contract. He called out to Haí Míng to grab a check.
Haí Míng’s leg was still out of commission, so Nie Jun took it instead and passed it to Kong Wenyu.
The hand holding the check was long-fingered and firm—unlike most bodyguards’ dark, thick-knuckled hands, his was clean, veins visible, with a faint layer of callus near the base of the thumb.
Kong Wenyu glanced up his arm, briefly catching the bridge of his strong nose. Then he signed the check and handed it to Ao Qingqing. “Fill in the second one yourself.”
Ao Qingqing tucked it into her bag and passed it to Xiaolang.
“Thanks. If it’s not enough, I’ll come back for more.” Her champagne-colored dress billowed like waves in the summer breeze, heels sharp like blades against the ground. “You should leave now—once Kong Lingru comes out, you won’t be able to.”
Kong Wenyu glanced at her, only saying, “Be careful,” before quickly turning to leave.
On the drive back, there were thankfully no incidents. Once home, the whole crew finally allowed themselves a breath of relief.
Man Mingzhi was already seated on the sofa waiting. As soon as Kong Wenyu stepped inside and said he was heading upstairs, she called out, “Stop right there.”
He sighed. “What now?”
His tone was clearly impatient. Man Mingzhi gave a cold snort. “So you still remember where home is.”
Kong Wenyu turned toward the stairs, visibly annoyed.
“Where have you been sneaking off to at night these days?” she demanded.
“Just out with friends,” he replied flatly. “Don’t meddle in my personal life.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then said with certainty, “You’ve been seeing that lover again.”
“I warned you already,” she said, her tone suddenly hard and her gaze sharp as a blade. “Keep yourself clean. Don’t mess around. The Long family has one daughter. They’re not going to let their son-in-law keep some lover on the side.”
Kong Wenyu didn’t argue—he didn’t even look angry anymore. He just leaned against the staircase railing, hands spread open in mock surrender.
“Honestly, my reputation isn’t exactly glowing,” Kong Wenyu said, sounding tired and short-tempered. “He must’ve looked into me beforehand. If he still chose me, it means the Long family doesn’t care—”
“Kong Wenyu.” Man Mingzhi cut him off coldly. “Are you deliberately trying to go against me?”
He paused, took two breaths, but still couldn’t swallow the frustration. “If you think I’m too young, then stop rushing to marry me off. But if you think I’m grown, then stop interfering in my life. As your only son, I strongly suggest you choose the latter.”
“How bold,” Haí Míng muttered from his wheelchair by the door, whispering to Nie Jun. “Only children really do speak differently.”
Nie Jun, one arm in a sling, stood in the shadows—not like a bodyguard, more like an actor filming a moody scene.
From this angle, Haí Míng looked up at him and sighed, “Damn, your legs are long, man.”
Nie Jun’s mouth twitched slightly. He didn’t reply.
“What’s up with you?” Haí Míng studied him for a second and sensed something off. “You look kinda nervous.”
“I’m not,” Nie Jun said quietly, but his heart skipped a beat the moment his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Haí Míng craned his neck to peek at the screen, clicked his tongue. “Go on, then. Good luck.”
Nie Jun stepped inside. The living room was empty—no sign of Man Mingzhi.
He headed upstairs, unlocked the study with a code, then used a fingerprint scan to enter the hidden room.
The secret room was dim, unlit, with the faintest sound of someone breathing. Kong Wenyu sat beneath the narrow window, the pale daylight outlining him as he stubbed out a cigarette.
Nie Jun stood motionless. His silhouette, cut sharp in the shadows, looked almost carved.
Kong Wenyu clearly didn’t appreciate the silent act. He stood and walked over, sizing him up. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
The safest move would’ve been silence. Nie Jun kept his eyes low, lashes casting shadows over his face.
“Didn’t I already warn you not to act on your own?”
He was tall—taller than Kong Wenyu—and the man clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Nie Jun lowered himself onto the floor, kneeling casually on the same patch of carpet as last time. Even the position was nearly identical.
Kong Wenyu leaned back against the dark wooden desk behind him, gaze sliding downward to better take him in from above.
“Was it you who kidnapped the driver?” he asked after a beat.
“Yes.”
The honesty brought a flicker of satisfaction to Kong Wenyu’s face—but the brazenness of it all clearly irked him.
“If my second aunt finds out, you’re nothing but an undocumented nobody with no connections. You think you can keep staying here?”
Nie Jun hesitated a moment. “Aren’t you my connection?”
Kong Wenyu froze, then chuckled softly and looked away.
Amused, he lifted one foot and pressed it against Nie Jun’s thigh, then slowly moved it up, stepping on his arm—not hard, more warning than punishment.
“Do you know why I called you up here?” Kong Wenyu asked.
Nie Jun swallowed dryly. “Because I screwed up.”
“Knowingly and willingly.” Kong Wenyu tilted his head, eyes drifting from his brows to his mouth, a slight smile playing on his lips. “That makes it worse.”
He said that, but didn’t make a move.
He had no intention of punishing him—and yet stood there in such an ambiguous posture.
Nie Jun tentatively reached up, placing his hand gently over the pale, smooth top of Kong Wenyu’s foot. Kong Wenyu didn’t pull away, so he brushed his thumb across it, twice, slowly.
Kong Wenyu stepped back a little—but didn’t press down, didn’t stop him either.
He traced up from the ankle to the calf, kneading gently for a moment before sliding his hand back down. Lifting the foot to eye level, he lowered his head and kissed the top of it.
“Not going to punish me?”
“And how exactly do you want to be punished?” Kong Wenyu pulled his foot back, leaned down until their faces were close, eyes locked. “Tell me.”
Nie Jun’s hand slid up from his ankle to his calf, kneading gently before circling back. He grabbed his foot, lifted it up to eye level, and lowered his head to kiss the top of it.
“You’re not going to punish me?”
“How do you want me to punish you?” Kong Wenyu pulled his foot back and leaned over him, their faces close. “Tell me.”
Nie Jun stared at those lips for two seconds before shifting his gaze up to his eyes. “Promise me one thing.”
Kong Wenyu gave a small smirk, easily pulling that gaze right back to his lips. “I’ll think about it.”
That indulgent tone emboldened Nie Jun. He looked up at him, his features barely visible in the dark—only vague outlines flickering in and out of view. “Have you gotten everything you wanted?”
Kong Wenyu paused for a beat.
Nie Jun’s voice, low and quiet, seemed soaked in shadow, thick with desires he never let surface in the light: “The shares. Your say in the company. Your father’s inheritance…”
Kong Wenyu looked down at him, brows slowly drawing together.
“Do you really have to get engaged to Miss Long?” Nie Jun asked in a whisper. “You’re not considering anyone else?”
Kong Wenyu asked back, slowly, “Who?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Nie Jun replied. “Just answer the first question.”
Getting Kong Wenyu to take a question seriously and give a straightforward answer was no small feat. Even when he knew exactly what he thought, he never let himself be led around that easily.
But Nie Jun’s voice and gaze were too sincere, and in this moment, Kong Wenyu couldn’t bring himself to deflect.
“I’m not sure,” he said quietly. “With Second Aunt stepping down and me joining the board, I suppose I got what I wanted.”
Nie Jun’s throat moved as he swallowed, trying to merge the man in front of him with the young man from so long ago, standing alone on that deck.
That same slim figure. That same tall, lean body. Long legs. The pale, distant jawline glowing faintly in the dark. And those eyes, glancing over with quiet sharpness.
The one who once clawed his way through life, and the one basking in triumph now—were they really the same person?
“What about me?” Nie Jun asked.
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