Kong Wenyu hung up and powered off his phone, completely cutting himself off from the outside world.
He swayed slightly—probably the aftermath of low oxygen. “I handed over the keys to the lakeside villa. I was planning to give them to you over dinner. Want to go see it this afternoon?”
A day like today, if Kong Wenyu was seen anywhere other than his own engagement banquet, it would explode into scandal.
“If possible, we should move in as soon as we can,” he continued, as if a weight had fallen off him. His whole demeanor, even his tone, softened. “Your hand’s still not fully healed—I’ll have someone help pack and move.”
Living there, they’d be caught on camera within three days. Headlines would follow. Everything would unravel.
Nie Jun stood in front of him, close enough to see the dried streaks left by tears on his face. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here.”
Kong Wenyu’s lips pressed into a tight line—then relaxed. “So, it’s not that you think this place is too small. You just didn’t want me looking for you again.”
Nie Jun didn’t respond.
On the surface, he seemed to be the one chasing—buying a place, getting a job, orbiting around Kong Wenyu. But really, he could walk away anytime. Just as easily as he came.
Kong Wenyu’s fingers brushed over his waist. “If I hadn’t come after you… were you planning to leave today?”
Nie Jun’s voice was low: “I couldn’t.”
The way he answered—choosing his words carefully—made the truth obvious.
Kong Wenyu’s hand tightened; his voice dropped, soft and damp like rain-soaked silk: “You’re mine.”
Nie Jun brushed their noses together. “I’m yours.”
Then his phone buzzed again in his pocket. He didn’t move, as if he hadn’t noticed.
Kong Wenyu assumed it was that Pang Ding and nodded for him to pick up.
Nie Jun pulled it out—it was Hai Ming.
“Have you seen the boss?” Hai Ming didn’t wait for him to speak, his voice urgent and breathless. “No one knows where he went. Madam’s ordered everyone to search for him. I’m checking the security footage now! I remember he asked where you were before he left—are you two together?”
It was only a matter of time before the footage led them here.
Nie Jun said, “We’re not together. I’ll try to get in touch with him.”
“You won’t. His phone’s off!” Hai Ming’s voice dropped as he spoke to someone nearby. “Here—rewind the video a bit… Got it! Hanging up!”
The call ended abruptly.
Nie Jun put down the phone and glanced at Kong Wenyu’s watch.
Kong Wenyu raised his wrist slightly. “What do we do—dunk it in water? Smash it?”
“That’d make you untraceable,” Nie Jun said, pulling him in tight. “If I wanted to kidnap you—or just hide you—no one would ever find you.”
Kong Wenyu gave a small laugh. “Really?”
Nie Jun stared straight at him, dead serious.
He held on a moment longer, then let his shoulders drop and turned slightly. “Come on. Let’s go back. I’ll drive you.”
Kong Wenyu leaned against the sink, momentarily stunned.
“I just needed to hear you say it once.” Nie Jun looked at him for a few more seconds, let go, and stood. “I got it.”
He went to test the water temperature, then started undoing Kong Wenyu’s buttons. “Quick shower. I’ll head to your place and grab clothes. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“I’m not going back to the hotel,” Kong Wenyu said firmly.
“Be good,” Nie Jun murmured, cupping the back of Kong Wenyu’s neck. He kissed the corner of his lips and added in a low voice, “We’ll have dinner together tonight.”
The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom as Nie Jun locked the front door and left to retrieve clothes from the Kong residence.
Upstairs, Shola immediately spotted him and wagged its tail furiously, circling around in excitement. Nie Jun patted its head. “No biscuits right now. I’ll take you for a walk tonight.”
Shola bounced on the spot like a fool, showing none of the poise a smart dog should have.
Nie Jun picked out a neatly pressed suit, took a shortcut, and rushed back.
By now, the morning market had cleared out. People bustled in and out of the small grocery store near the apartment complex gate, most picking up daily essentials.
Parked right in front of the store was a black Mercedes with white trim—sleek corners, spotless surface, and an air of detachment from the grounded, lived-in atmosphere around it.
Nie Jun’s chest tightened.
The car door opened, and Hai Ming stepped out.
Through the gap, Nie Jun caught a glimpse of Man Mingzhi sitting inside, face icy cold.
“Is the boss with you?” Hai Ming, leaning on a crutch and holding an umbrella, approached with uneven breaths. “We tracked the signal here.”
He glanced at the clothes hanging from Nie Jun’s bike handle, seeming to confirm they’d been in contact. His shoulders finally relaxed.
Nie Jun kept one foot on the ground, calmly answering, “There was something that needed to be handled. I was just about to take him back.”
Their umbrella frames bumped into each other. Nie Jun’s injured hand was still in a brace, and Hai Ming took a step back.
“What kind of urgent matter has to be dealt with right now?” Hai Ming motioned to the car behind him, expression strained with helpless frustration.
The car door opened again—this time, Man Mingzhi stepped out.
Her legs weren’t in great shape to begin with, and she’d worn heels for the occasion. As soon as she got out, someone pulled a wheelchair from the trunk and held an umbrella over her.
Nie Jun parked his bike as the group stood facing each other beneath their umbrellas.
Rain trickled steadily, fine and persistent. Curious passersby glanced their way but moved on quickly.
Seated in the wheelchair, Man Mingzhi swept her eyes across the neighborhood—from squat old buildings to puddled roads—before looking back at Nie Jun. “Let’s hear it,” she said.
Her eyes were heavy-lidded, gaze sharp and displeased. “Who’s he hiding in this dump?”
Nie Jun stiffened slightly, lowering his eyes.
She caught sight of the clean suit hanging from his handlebar. Her fingers tapped the armrest of her wheelchair. “It’s gone this far, so don’t bother covering for him. Since you live in this same shithole, I’m sure you’ve played your part.”
Nie Jun replied slowly, “There’s no one.”
“Tight-lipped, huh?” Man Mingzhi actually seemed a bit impressed—until her voice hardened with the weight of threatened authority. “But remember, you’re out here working for a living. If someone crippled you for real, do you think Kong Wenyu would flip against me for the sake of a bodyguard? Think it through—who really pays the price?”
Nie Jun said nothing, eyes fixed on the puddles at his feet.
She stared at him for a few seconds, then gave a cold snort. “So you’d rather drink the hard liquor.”
From another car, a bodyguard stepped out and moved to grab Nie Jun’s shoulder.
Nie Jun hesitated, gaze landing on the woman’s face—the sharp outlines so similar to Kong Wenyu’s.
And he didn’t move.
Hai Ming quickly stepped in to block the bodyguard and turned to Man Mingzhi. “If he says something reckless, the boss won’t let him off.”
Man Mingzhi shot him a cold glance, then turned her attention back to Nie Jun.
This personal bodyguard usually made no waves—he could walk through a whole living room without anyone noticing. He kept his presence low.
Word was, he could fight, and he wasn’t the slick or talkative type. Someone like that was useful at Kong Wenyu’s side: reliable for physical protection, but not the kind to egg him on toward anything messy.
But he was too obedient. Always compliant with Kong Wenyu’s whims—even today, he’d allowed him to act out like this.
“I’ll give you a chance,” Man Mingzhi said quietly. “Lead the way.”
Nie Jun tried to explain, “There was something urgent earlier, but it’s been handled. I was just about to take him back to the hotel.”
“What hotel?” Man Mingzhi sneered. “He’s not going back.”
Nie Jun froze.
“He’s currently ‘in the ICU’ from a sudden illness,” she said coolly. “The Long family is already preparing to take their daughter to the hospital to visit him.”
Hai Ming, hobbling around on his crutch, looked ready to sprout extra limbs from stress. “Let’s just calm down and focus on finding him first.”
Man Mingzhi had been suppressing her fury all this time—her face was beginning to show it. “Did you get through to him yet?”
Hai Ming fumbled for his phone and dialed Kong Wenyu’s number. “Still no answer,” he reported.
But that at least meant Kong Wenyu had finished his shower—and turned the phone back on.
Nie Jun lowered his gaze.
Man Mingzhi tilted her head slightly and looked down at him with commanding sharpness. “You call him.”
Nie Jun hesitated. Hai Ming gave him a look, then reached for Nie Jun’s phone.
Nie Jun instinctively stepped back under the pressure of Man Mingzhi’s gaze—but Hai Ming grabbed his arm and kept him in place.
“They’re mother and son,” Hai Ming whispered with his back to her. “What are we, huh? This isn’t revenge. She’s his mom—what’s she gonna do, actually hurt him?”
Nie Jun glanced at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Man Mingzhi surveying the neighborhood again.
The noisy residents, the short trees, the peeling paint on the buildings…
She waved a hand, and the bodyguard behind her wheeled her forward—stopping right in front of Nie Jun.
Raindrops trickled down the ribs of their umbrellas, splashing in tiny bursts on the ground.
Man Mingzhi cleared her throat. “Call him. You don’t have to speak. I’ll talk.”
It had been over ten minutes since Nie Jun had left the house. Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
The rain and the murmurs of conversation masked the sound—but Nie Jun felt the subtle pulse immediately.
It was Kong Wenyu calling.
“I’ll speak to him,” Nie Jun said—not forcefully, but with steady calm.
Man Mingzhi had seen all kinds of people in her life. Arrogant types like Ao Yongwang, short-tempered ones like Di Xun, emotionally volatile ones like Fu Xi, the reckless indulgence of her own son, Kong Wenyu… But among all the young men she’d come across, few were this composed. Even someone as solid and respectable as Yu Jiaduo came up short in comparison.
She forced her temper down and motioned with her hand.
Nie Jun’s expression remained unreadable. He turned and stepped to the side to take the call.
Maybe it was the mix of cold rain and hot water earlier, but Kong Wenyu’s voice through the receiver sounded stuffy and low:
“Why haven’t you come back yet?”
“Your mom’s here, at the entrance to the complex,” Nie Jun said. “Do you want to come down?”
Kong Wenyu said something too soft to hear. Nie Jun nodded, then followed it with two firm “no”s.
Man Mingzhi grew more and more agitated watching this. She held out her hand, impatient: “Give it to me.”
Nie Jun gave her a look, then quietly asked into the phone, “Do you want to speak?”
Whatever Kong Wenyu said on the other end took some time, and Nie Jun listened patiently, replying with short acknowledgments.
“Go ahead,” he said finally. “I’ll hand the phone to her.”
Man Mingzhi took a deep breath and grabbed the phone from his hand.
The screen showed an unmarked number. The call had already lasted over two minutes.
“Kong Wenyu,” she said, her voice dark and heavy like the approaching storm, “I’m waiting for you at the entrance of this godforsaken backstreet neighborhood. Don’t make me come in there and break up your little love nest—drag yourself out here.”
She hung up. The screen automatically shifted.
Man Mingzhi glanced at it idly before handing the phone back to Nie Jun.
He accepted it without expression and tucked it back into his pocket. The screen had briefly displayed the time—11:00—and the background photo: his own modest living room, with Kong Wenyu wearing loungewear, slouched on a cushioned sofa, listlessly eating fruit.
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