Nie Jun’s face remained calm as ever as he put the phone away.
Man Mingzhi gave him another once-over. “He treats his bodyguard better than his own mother.”
“I’m going back in to give him some clothes,” Nie Jun said, glancing at the garment bag on his bike. “All his are soaked.”
Man Mingzhi herself wasn’t the least bit wet—her clothes immaculate, her heels pristine. She sat in her wheelchair as if she were in the bright, echoing dining hall of the Kong residence sipping coffee—if you ignored the smoldering fury in her eyes.
“Go,” she said sternly. “But if you’re not out in ten minutes, I’ll send someone in to drag him out—and while we’re at it, we’ll settle a few old scores with you too.”
Nie Jun hesitated. The timing was tight. He tried, “Would fifteen minutes be okay?”
“…” Man Mingzhi stared at him in disbelief.
“I’ll try,” he said quickly before she could speak.
He clearly meant it. Even the way he mounted his bike seemed a bit rushed.
With one arm on the handlebar and the other—still injured—holding the umbrella, he didn’t look pitiful. If anything, he radiated a calm that was oddly composed, almost serene.
Man Mingzhi watched his figure disappear into one of the side paths between the apartment buildings, then pulled out her phone and started making calls.
“Mr. Long, I do apologize,” she said, and even in apology her tone was firm and commanding. “This development caught me more off guard than anyone. Kong Wenyu’s surgery is finished, but the doctor says he needs some time to recover. I’d appreciate it if you could help reassure the guests in the meantime—I’ll return shortly.”
Raindrops splattered against her black umbrella, adding a subtle, wet percussion to her crisp voice. It softened the edges of her tone just slightly—though in truth, she felt nothing of the kind.
“There’s no need for a hospital visit,” she went on. “Since when do elders visit the younger generation? I’ve already notified the major news outlets—there will be no press coverage of today’s incident. Once he’s recovered, I’ll make sure he personally offers an apology.”
Whatever Mr. Long said on the other end made her smile faintly.
“Kong Wenyu is an only son,” she said coolly. “Even if something did happen to him, wouldn’t the estate legally belong to his wife anyway?”
As she spoke, her tone shifted—firmer, edged with pressure. “Besides, Mr. Long, it’s an inauspicious day for talk like this. Kong Wenyu was at fault, I won’t deny it, and I’ll discipline him myself. But the situation came up suddenly—neither of us could’ve predicted it. Let’s deal with the present first.”
—
Nie Jun unlocked the door and stepped inside. Scanning the room, he saw Kong Wenyu standing at the balcony in nothing but an oversized T-shirt of his. Dampness still clung to his skin, steam rising faintly from his body. A cigarette dangled between his fingers, unlit.
His pale legs stood straight, bare, feet in a pair of soft gray house slippers with a simple design. His Achilles tendons were slender and defined.
“Everyone got a full view,” Nie Jun commented mildly as he came in with the clothes and went to draw the curtains.
When Kong Wenyu turned and walked away from the window, the movement stirred a breeze—and Nie Jun noticed he wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“How did she get here?” Kong Wenyu walked to the water dispenser to pour a cup. “How many people did she bring?”
“Six or seven,” Nie Jun replied, catching a glimpse of exposed skin as Kong Wenyu sat down and pausing momentarily. “They’re waiting at the complex entrance now. She’s in a wheelchair. Looks furious. When you go out there, keep your tone soft.”
“She’s probably about to lose her mind,” Kong Wenyu muttered, sipping his water slowly.
Nie Jun took the dry clothes out and laid them by the sofa.
Kong Wenyu glanced at them but didn’t move.
He leaned back and crossed his legs, picking up the remote to turn on the TV. Nie Jun glanced at the clock. “Time to go?”
Kong Wenyu looked at him, then at the drawn curtains. “With weather this nice… not in the mood?”
Nie Jun’s eyes flicked downward involuntarily—the hem of the shirt was tented slightly.
Kong Wenyu had always been indulgent when it came to desire, and when the mood struck, it came on fast. Maybe it was youth; maybe he was just in his prime.
He didn’t ask much for foreplay, but once things started, he had to finish. No interruptions.
“Tonight,” Nie Jun said, “Let’s take care of this first.”
Kong Wenyu crooked his finger. Nie Jun knelt beside the sofa, one leg bent for balance, leaning in close to listen.
Kong Wenyu leaned slightly to his ear. “Did she buy you off?”
Nie Jun looked at him calmly. “No.”
Kong Wenyu slumped back against the sofa, a little disappointed. “But I don’t want to go.”
Nie Jun checked the clock again. “You don’t need to go to the hotel. Your mother already settled the engagement mess. To the public, you’re in the hospital after a sudden health emergency.”
“Then why should I bother going?”
“She’s worried about you.”
“Worried?” Kong Wenyu let out a short, bitter laugh. “She’s more likely to flay me alive.”
He laughed for a while before lifting his shirt to show a small, faint scar at his waist. “This one’s from when I was a kid—got hit with a ruler for not listening.”
Given what he now knew about the truth behind the rainy night race and the house arrest, Nie Jun said nothing.
He reached out to touch the raised scar. It was thin, like a short piece of fishing line.
That touch did it—Kong Wenyu’s eyes darkened noticeably.
“What now?” he murmured, his gaze drifting from Nie Jun’s lips to his eyes.
Now was absolutely not the time for this. Man Mingzhi was still waiting at the complex entrance, sitting in the rain under an umbrella.
“Get dressed,” Nie Jun said, pulling off the oversized T-shirt, then handing over a dress shirt with the buttons undone. He stood and went into the bedroom to fetch a clean pair of underwear.
When he came back, Kong Wenyu was still lounging on the sofa, not moving.
There was no time to waste.
Nie Jun went over and crouched down to help him put them on. But Kong Wenyu shifted his legs aside, refusing to cooperate.
Nie Jun grabbed his ankle and started pulling the fabric up—but was suddenly nudged down hard, once again.
He sighed, out of patience, tossed the clothes aside, then lifted Kong Wenyu and pushed him back onto the sofa. Wrapping an arm around him, he flipped him over into an embrace.
Kong Wenyu was caught off guard and let out a soft gasp, his expression instantly changing.
Nie Jun held a tissue in one hand and a pair of underwear in the other, sliding it smoothly up Kong Wenyu’s calf and fitting it onto him with one hand.
“You—fuck—” Kong Wenyu started, but the rest of the sentence caught in his throat.
It was too fast.
By the time they were done and Nie Jun checked the time, ten more minutes had already passed since the ten-minute deadline Man Mingzhi had given—and they still hadn’t left the apartment.
Nie Jun cleaned him up with tissues, then wiped off the sweat with a damp towel. While Kong Wenyu was still in a daze, he dressed him quickly and half-carried him out the door.
Kong Wenyu, still basking in the afterglow, leaned against Nie Jun’s shoulder, barely willing to lift a finger.
As they came down the stairs, Nie Jun was mentally preparing an excuse—maybe he could blame the rain for the delay. But the moment they stepped out of the building, he saw Man Mingzhi’s car already pulled up across the street, its door open. She sat in the back, phone just lowered, eyes locked on them.
Nie Jun’s grip on Kong Wenyu tightened slightly. Calmly, he lowered him to the ground and steadied him.
Man Mingzhi’s gaze swept over them before stopping on Kong Wenyu’s face. “Your leg’s broken? Or is it your spine, that you needed to be carried down?”
“Probably hereditary,” Kong Wenyu replied.
Nie Jun gave his waist a discreet nudge. Kong Wenyu turned his head to glance at him, cleared his throat, and said to Man Mingzhi, “It’s that old sprain—still hasn’t healed. Rainy days make it ache.”
Man Mingzhi stared at him for a solid five seconds. When she looked away, her expression was icy. “You bought a villa by the lakeside. Planning to give it to that little lover of yours?”
Kong Wenyu said nothing, eyes drifting to the shrubs behind her.
“Didn’t expect you to hide someone here,” she added, glancing toward the bushes and then at the two rows of aging locust trees inside the complex. “Go on, tell me. What building number? What’s their name, what do they do? You look like you already knew I’d be against it.”
Kong Wenyu’s brow furrowed slightly.
Man Mingzhi let out a cold laugh, a touch of regret slipping in. “You’re damn right I’d be against it. From now on, you don’t lay a finger on anyone but Longzhu. Get in the car.”
Nie Jun gave Kong Wenyu a light push forward.
Kong Wenyu, having just gotten his release and still riding that wave of satisfaction, was in too good a mood to argue.
He took a step forward and didn’t bother trading barbs with Man Mingzhi. He got into the car without protest, buckled his seatbelt, and asked, “Where to?”
“Central Hospital,” she said, glancing out at Hai Ming. Then to the driver, “Take us. He’s going to lie in that bed for three whole days.”
The door shut, cutting off any further conversation.
Nie Jun watched her car drive off, then turned to Hai Ming. “Not going with them?”
Hai Ming hesitated, let out a sigh, then forced himself to speak, clearly uneasy. “You might need to come with me somewhere else first.”
Nie Jun paused and glanced at him. “What is it?”
Hai Ming lit a cigarette and took a slow drag, gaze lowered. “You’ll see when we get there.”
Nie Jun was quiet for a moment, then followed him into the car parked behind. They drove to the villa district by Lakeside Park.
A few bodyguards got out and followed. Hai Ming, still saying little, was pushed in his wheelchair to one of the houses.
The key he pulled out was clearly a copy—the head marked with common lettering.
Nie Jun asked again, “What are we doing here?”
“Inside,” Hai Ming said, entering first and stopping in the middle of the living room.
The place was warmly decorated. Soft, creamy tones filled the space—plush rugs, warm wooden furniture, cozy fabric sofas, and stuffed animals of all sizes scattered about…
“This is a house the boss just bought,” Haiming said as he turned to face Nie Jun and sighed. “Sorry, man. You’ll have to stay locked up here for a while.”
Man Mingzhi stayed with Kong Wenyu in the hospital’s private room.
“I’m heading back to the hotel now,” she said. “I’ll return in the afternoon with the Long family. You’re not allowed to go anywhere—try acting the part.”
Kong Wenyu walked into the room and poured himself a glass of water. “What illness am I supposed to have?”
“Acute angina,” Man Mingzhi replied, staring at him. “I’ve already greased the wheels with the doctors. Just keep yourself under control.”
Kong Wenyu let out an “Oh,” pulled the blanket back on the hospital bed, and lay down to catch up on sleep.
His careless attitude was enough to make anyone want to slap him. Man Mingzhi gave him a cold look for a while, then turned and walked out: “Lock the door. From now on, in only—no one goes out.”
Kong Wenyu heard the door shut and her footsteps retreating.
The hospital room fell into complete silence.
After a while, he opened his eyes, pulled out his phone, and messaged Nie Jun: What are we eating tonight?
No reply came. Nie Jun might’ve been busy with Haiming—or he was already at the hotel.
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