Chapter 9

Hai Ming agreed. Kong Wenyu thought for a moment, then dropped the subject and asked instead, “Has Second Aunt been asking about me lately?”

“She has,” Hai Ming replied. “She’s been asking about your progress with Miss Ao.”

“She’s close with the Ao family?”

“They’ve met privately, but there’s only been one time caught on camera,” Hai Ming said. “She’s been to the nursing home twice.”

Kong Wenyu exhaled sharply, displeased. “Tell the nursing home that no one is allowed to visit Madam except me and Aunt.”

Hai Ming acknowledged the order. Kong Wenyu continued, “Probably next week, I’ll attend Di Xun’s yacht banquet. After I get back, arrange to switch Madam’s medical team. Remind me.”

“Understood.” Hai Ming thought for a moment, then looked up at him. “Mr. Ao inviting you onto a yacht at a time like this… it just feels—”

Before a mission, bodyguards were forbidden from saying words like ‘bad omen’, so instead Hai Ming said, “It feels off. Even though you’re the middleman and Mr. Ao’s actions can be understood, ultimately the contract is between their families. If there’s something they’re unhappy about, each side could just send representatives to negotiate.”

“That’s why I called you in,” Kong Wenyu said. “Bring more people. If any socializing is required, the secretary will handle it. If he can’t manage, you’ll need to.”

“Got it,” Hai Ming said. “I’ll note that.”

Kong Wenyu stared off into the distance, silent. Hai Ming waited for further instructions, but after a while, none came.

“You can go,” Kong Wenyu said, waving a hand.

Hai Ming turned to leave, but Kong Wenyu called out again: “Send Nie Jun in.”

Hai Ming acknowledged the order and quickly went to find him.

Nie Jun was standing in the guardroom waiting. When Hai Ming entered, Nie Jun glanced up, but before he could greet him, Hai Ming said, “The boss wants you. He’s in the bedroom.”

Nie Jun didn’t ask why. He set down what he was holding and stood. “I’ll go.”

This time there was no secretary to guide him. Alone, he passed through the spacious first-floor living room, past the layers of high-hanging drapes, and came to the wide, open staircase.

He followed the solid, old-fashioned wooden handrail upward. After turning the rounded corner on the second floor, he reached Kong Wenyu’s massive bedroom, which occupied nearly half the floor.

Nie Jun knocked on the door. A voice came from inside almost immediately: “Come in.”

Nie Jun stood still for a moment, then pushed the door open and entered.

Last night the room had been dark; even without the curtains drawn, he couldn’t see much of anything. Now the curtains were half-open, and the entire interior was visible—but Nie Jun lowered his gaze and didn’t look around.

Kong Wenyu was still on the bed. The covers had been thrown back. He was dressed in pajama pants and a top, leaning against the headboard while scrolling on his phone.

Nie Jun didn’t speak first. Kong Wenyu set his phone aside. “How’s the duty roster arranged?”

Nie Jun paused. “The captain assigns it.”

Kong Wenyu lifted his head to look at him.

The enclosed space, the unmistakably private setting, already had Nie Jun’s heart rate running higher than normal.

And with that gaze fixed on him, his throat moved as he swallowed before saying, “Teams A and B rotate shifts. Any missions after 5 p.m. count as overtime, which can be taken as compensatory time off later that month.”

Kong Wenyu kept his chin slightly raised, still watching him.

When he focused on something—or someone—his stare easily evoked the image of a predator: cold, aloof, high above others. That distant, oppressive gaze carried a pressure that made people instinctively fall in line with whatever rules he set.

Nie Jun brushed his fingers against the seam of his pants, wanting to say something but unable to find the right words.

Kong Wenyu remained still, watching him for a moment before suddenly asking an unrelated question: “Did you get the cufflink fixed?”

“Not yet,” Nie Jun quickly replied. “It’ll take about half a month for it to come back.”

After answering, the silence returned. It felt as if, now that Kong Wenyu had no further questions, Nie Jun could leave.

But Kong Wenyu’s eyes flickered slightly. “The secretary said you didn’t take the other one from him. You don’t want it?”

Nie Jun paused. “There’s no occasion where I’d use it.”

“Sell it,” Kong Wenyu said.

“…No need.”

Kong Wenyu studied him for several seconds, the look in his eyes gradually becoming more complicated.

Nie Jun belatedly tried to explain, but Kong Wenyu cut him off: “I’m asking you something.”

Nie Jun froze, unsure of what he meant.

“I’m asking about your personal shift schedule,” Kong Wenyu clarified.

After a brief silence, Nie Jun said, “Same as everyone else’s.”

“Is it really?” Kong Wenyu stared at him. “If you’re not short on money, then why were you on duty the day before yesterday, yesterday, and again today?”

He paused, then added, “Is your back injury healed yet? You don’t take sick leave when you’re hurt, you don’t use your compensatory time off after missions, and you even give up your regular days off. Should I be handing you some kind of Model Worker Honorary Certificate?”

Nie Jun kept his eyes on the wooden floor a short distance away. After a moment, he said, “It’s healed.”

Kong Wenyu realized he was answering the question about the injury.

He fell silent. After a moment, Kong Wenyu glanced at his straight nose and asked, “What are you thinking about?”

Nie Jun’s gaze flickered. “I’m wondering why you called me here.”

“What do you think?” Kong Wenyu asked.

This was his usual way of questioning.

Nie Jun had experienced it many times before.

“I don’t know,” Nie Jun answered.

“You don’t know?” Kong Wenyu pressed.

Nie Jun thought back to last night—the timing, the cameras he’d nudged out of place, the new hat he’d bought at the night market, the shipping slip in his pocket. There had been no mistakes.

After returning, he’d even made a deliberate show of walking around in front of Hai Ming, leaving the shipping slip openly on the guardroom desk.

“I really don’t know,” Nie Jun said with certainty.

“Then take a guess,” Kong Wenyu said.

“…Maybe you want to give me that Model Worker certificate,” Nie Jun replied.

Kong Wenyu stared at him, then turned his head and unexpectedly laughed.

After a while, he cleared his throat and, still smiling faintly, said, “There’s a banquet in a few days, on a yacht. You’re coming with me. Stay by my side and handle security.”

“Alright,” Nie Jun agreed.

Only then did he lift his eyes and notice the distinct smile still on Kong Wenyu’s lips—there wasn’t the slightest trace of accusation.

Kong Wenyu met his gaze for less than a second before Nie Jun quickly looked away.

Kong Wenyu seemed amused, watching him with interest, that faint smile still tugging at his lips. “You’ll be healed enough by then?”

“It’s already fine,” Nie Jun said.

Kong Wenyu made no comment. “Take off your shirt.”

Nie Jun froze, then realized belatedly that he wanted to see the wound on his back.

This bedroom felt even more private than the study’s hidden room, carrying an unspoken weight to it.

Nie Jun didn’t hesitate long. He raised his hands, pulled off his T-shirt, and turned his back to him.

Kong Wenyu stared at his profile for a few seconds, his voice unreadable: “Can’t see clearly.”

Nie Jun’s eyes, hidden in shadow, didn’t move. Soon, he stood up, walked around the foot of the bed, and came to the other side—closer to Kong Wenyu—then knelt down with his back to the bed.

From this distance, Kong Wenyu could clearly see the bluish bruises and the reddish abrasions on his back.

But it wasn’t too close—still just outside the range where Kong Wenyu could reach out and touch him.

Kong Wenyu let out a low click of his tongue.

Nie Jun misunderstood him. “They’re all surface wounds. If I need to spar with the captain or take on a mission, I can do it anytime.”

He still remembered Kong Wenyu mentioning that he should go up against Hai Ming to see who was the better fighter.

After a good night’s sleep and a slow-paced morning, the drunken haze from last night had completely lifted from Kong Wenyu. His eyes, though still tinged with a trace of weary languor, were sharp. “No family, no friends, your social ties are basically nonexistent. Your résumé says you’ve worked as a bodyguard before. For whom?”

Nie Jun hesitated. Kong Wenyu asked slowly, “Was it for Second Aunt?”

Nie Jun froze, then immediately denied it. “No.”

Kong Wenyu stared at him.

Nie Jun’s voice lowered slightly, carrying a hint of helplessness. “How could that even be possible?”

Kong Wenyu didn’t catch it. “What?”

Nie Jun was silent for a moment, then said, “I’m not working for anyone. I used to be a freelance bodyguard.”

Freelancers didn’t belong to any security company, nor were they loyal to any employer.

If someone wanted to hire that kind of person, the bodyguard had to be extremely skilled—at least ranked on known lists, someone who had successfully completed high-risk missions.

Kong Wenyu studied his features, shadowed by the light.

Believing that Kong Wenyu had finished examining his injuries, Nie Jun started to rise. But just as he moved, a cool, bare foot pressed against his shoulder blade, pinning him in place.

Every muscle in Nie Jun’s body tightened instantly, especially across his back—hard as stone.

Bare-legged, Kong Wenyu lightly stepped on him. “Good skills. You’re familiar with yacht escape routes, your danger awareness is sharp, and you’ve been watching me constantly.”

Nie Jun subtly adjusted his breathing, trying to keep it steady.

“My instincts are very accurate,” Kong Wenyu said quietly. “And they’re telling me—you’re not simple.”

Whenever he spoke, no matter what he said, Nie Jun knew he had to respond. Otherwise, there would be unpredictable consequences.

“I…” Nie Jun carefully chose his words. “I won’t harm you.”

Kong Wenyu chuckled. “You’re in the Kong household. Wanting to harm me would be nothing but a fool’s dream.”

Before the last word finished leaving his lips, his ankle was suddenly caught in Nie Jun’s grip.

In the next instant, Nie Jun stood, seized his ankle with one hand, caught his wrists with the other, and forced him down flat onto the bed.

Kong Wenyu struggled briefly, about to shout, but before he could make a sound, Nie Jun climbed onto the bed, pinning one of his knees while covering his mouth with a large hand.

“I could,” Nie Jun leaned in, meeting his gaze, “but I won’t.”

His broad palm covered the lower half of Kong Wenyu’s face. His thumb rested lightly along the side of that straight, sharp nose, leaving only a pair of inky black eyes and calm brows exposed.

When those brows shifted slightly, Kong Wenyu seemed to catch the faint scent of soap—subtly mixed with the dry, astringent note of steeped tea leaves.

At first, he looked a little dazed, inhaling softly twice. Soon, his brows relaxed, and his gaze turned amused.

Lying flat on the bed, Kong Wenyu’s eyes held no fear, no tension. Reflected in the window’s glass, they looked as if they contained an entire galaxy.

The next moment, Nie Jun felt warmth against his palm.

Kong Wenyu had just licked him.

The slick sensation shot straight down Nie Jun’s spine, electrifying him. He reflexively jerked his hand away.

Kong Wenyu laughed softly, breathing unevenly for a few seconds before turning his head to look at him.

Only then did Nie Jun realize this action could be seen as a challenge to authority. He immediately said, “I’m sorry.”

Kong Wenyu was still smiling, his gaze lively yet complicated, carrying a sudden surge of sharp, heightened interest.

“I’ll go now.” Nie Jun said.

He waited for two minutes. Kong Wenyu didn’t respond, so he took the silence as permission and quickly left the bedroom.