Category: Surrender 4 (Page 1 of 4)

      Qin Mu lifted his eyelids. “Is that necessary?”

       “Know yourself and know your enemy, and you’ll never lose a hundred battles.” The man’s eyes curved, like a cat dangling bait and waiting for the fish to bite.

       “When?”

       “These spoiled young masters live in a haze of wine and luxury, drinking and partying every night. If we’re going to meet, it has to be at a nightlife venue.” After saying that, Shen Liu realised he was describing himself as one of those ‘decadent types’. He smoothly shifted his tone. “I’m different, though—untainted despite being in the mud. I never go to nightclubs, sleep early, rise early, live a disciplined life, no bad habits whatsoever.”

       Always so eager to paint himself in gold.

       Qin Mu was about to mock him when Shen Liu lazily added, “Except for missing you.”

       This man had clearly spent too long in the dating scene; corny flirtations rolled off his tongue effortlessly. He was relentlessly flirting early in the morning; it was as if he was begging for a beating. Qin Mu said blankly, “If you were a sub, I’d make sure the mere thought of me made your whole body ache.”

       Shen Liu smiled. “I’ll make sure to try that someday.”

       He looked at the man before him and thought bitterly that he really was hopeless. All those people who had thrown themselves at him over the years couldn’t stir even half his interest—yet he was utterly obsessed with this cold, unyielding man who could turn his back on him without hesitation. Whenever Qin Mu was around, his heart seemed to come alive, pulsing like it had taken a dose of aphrodisiac. Every glance, every fleeting expression could daze him, and his mind couldn’t stop replaying the sensations of the night before—the body pressed into soft sheets, the arching waist that moved with every thrust, the eyes wet and hazy with pleasure, the sounds that trembled between desire and resistance… His body began to heat uncontrollably; his ears buzzed, and he barely registered a word that was being said.

       It wasn’t until he caught the look in Qin Mu’s eyes that he snapped back to his senses and thought that he was done for.

       Doms were experts at reading people through their eyes—especially someone who knew him this well. Fantasising about him to his face was downright disrespectful.

       Qin Mu said nothing, just stood and left the table. Shen Liu immediately followed.

       “Is there anything else?” Qin Mu asked, pausing at the bedroom door.

       “Yes.” Shen Liu stood outside, for once behaving like a gentleman who respected the rule of ‘no entry without permission’. He then asked, “May I get some clothes?”

       A clumsy excuse. With all his wealth, Boss Shen’s wardrobe was the size of a small apartment—why would he need to enter this room to find clothes?

       Qin Mu was about to speak when two maids pushed a cleaning cart out of the elevator at the end of the hall. Seeing the two men, they quickly lowered their heads and retreated. The younger one even flushed red.

       Qin Mu frowned, turning toward Shen Liu. “You let them clean in there too?”

       Shen Liu started to say no, but caught himself midway, mumbling an ambiguous “Eh?”

       Qin Mu stepped aside and said coolly, “Open the door.”

       Shen Liu entered openly.

       That ‘dark room’ had always been one he cleaned himself. Apart from handing off the used sheets for washing, he never let anyone else touch it. Qin Mu had always been fastidious about such things—he used to handle the cleanup personally after their sessions. Last night’s ‘madness’ was already an act of indulgent loss of control for him; he didn’t want anyone else to see the aftermath and form any indecent imaginations.

       Since the guest was cleaning, the host couldn’t very well stand idle. Shen Liu tossed the freshly washed vibrator into the steriliser and took the nipple clamps from Qin Mu’s hands, smiling. “Want me to wash the sheets too?”

       Qin Mu glanced at him without answering.

       Watching the man’s back, Shen Liu suddenly felt a strange sense of déjà vu—like he was back in the town of Tingyun. He almost reached out to wrap his arms around that waist, but managed to restrain himself, sitting down at the edge of the bed instead. After a moment, he spoke quietly. “I haven’t used this room in a long time.”

       The words came out of nowhere, making Qin Mu pause slightly. Then Shen Liu continued, his tone unhurried. “In the beginning, I went wild for a while. I took in all kinds of subs, played with every trick in the book, and stirred up the scene. Then one day, I suddenly found it meaningless, and the excitement faded.” He paused. “I haven’t held a whip in ages. Last night, I didn’t dare use even the soft one. I was afraid I’d lost my touch and might hurt you.”

       The words sounded halfway between a confession and casual conversation. The truth lay hidden within, like a single leaf deep in a dense forest—you knew it was there, but couldn’t quite find it.

       For a brief moment, Qin Mu wanted to ask why, but stopped himself. Sharing that kind of privacy was too intimate, and after all, they were just two people taking what they needed from a one-night stand.

       He put the ruler back into its case and walked up to Shen Liu.

       Shen Liu’s heart stirred as he tilted his head to look up at him.

       “Move. I’m changing the sheets.”

       “…”

       If a person’s heart were a boat, then time was the ballast stone weighing it down. Qin Mu’s boat carried especially heavy stones—solid, steady, unmoved by any storm. Even the finest swordsman couldn’t win against a wooden training dummy that refused to spar.

       Shen Liu stood, smirking. “So diligent. Why not stay here and work? At your consultation rate, I could pay three thousand an hour.”

       “The employer has a record of sexual harassment. The working environment’s too toxic. I’ll pass.” Qin Mu bundled up the sheets and shoved them into his arms before heading out to wash his hands.

       Tao Ze froze when he saw Shen Liu emerging from the room with an armful of dirty bedding. Then, holding back laughter, he asked, “Boss, are you planning to wash those yourself, or should I find a vacuum bag to preserve them for you?”

       Shen Liu gave him a cold, humourless grin. “You trying to forfeit your salary this month?”

       “I was wrong, Boss.” Tao Ze quickly straightened his face and shifted to business. “For today’s lunch meeting, everyone’s confirmed except the three who couldn’t make the trip in time. Here’s the menu—please have a look.”

       “Just keep it to the family-dinner standard,” Shen Liu said after skimming it. He had no objections.

       “And for lunch… should we make separate arrangements for Lawyer Qin, or…?”

       “Together. Seat him next to me.”

       “Have you told him in advance?”

       “When you’re catching a rabbit, do you put up a sign saying ‘trap ahead’?” Shen Liu shot him a glare.

       “Well, you could, but the rabbit can’t read anyway,” Tao Ze replied, flashing a row of white teeth.

       Shen Liu gave him a look. “You’re feeling pretty funny today, aren’t you, Tao Ze?”

       “Just doing my best, Boss.”

       “Everyone coming today is important. Butler Jin’s getting old—you handle the greeting.”

       “…” Tao Ze went rigid with shock, then pulled a face and said miserably, “Boss, I was wrong. Some rabbits can read…”

       “Cut the crap and get moving.”

       –

       There was a reason Tao Ze had managed to stay by Shen Liu’s side all these years.

       The luncheon had been arranged in haste, yet within an extremely limited timeframe, he had organised every detail with meticulous precision so that Shen Liu wouldn’t have to lift a finger. The reception room had both Eastern and Western-style refreshments and drinks ready. Ingredients for lunch were prepared in advance, with dishes carefully avoiding any ingredients aligned with the guests’ dietary restrictions. Even the seating arrangements were thoughtfully designed to reflect relationships and hierarchy, and the napkins had been deliberately replaced with ones of elegant, understated colour.

       At ten-thirty sharp, Assistant Tao stood in the front hall, his posture tense as if facing a battlefield. The elderly butler, Old Jin, smiled behind him.

       “Relax a little.”

       Tao Ze gave a bitter smile, but before he could reply, the low rumble of an approaching engine drowned his words. Moments later, a bright yellow Ferrari swept across the lawn and stopped at the front steps. The bodyguard jogged forward to open the door, and out stepped a young man dressed in expensive designer streetwear, with sunglasses so large they hid half his face.

       “Where’s Shen Liu?” was his first question upon getting out of the car.

       Snapping out of his grief over ‘that lawn was just re-sodded last week’, Tao Ze plastered on his best professional smile and went forward.

       “Young Master Rong, you must be tired from your journey. President Shen is in his study taking care of some business. Please have a seat in the reception room for now.”

       The young man frowned as he walked. “Didn’t he invite me for lunch? I’m here, so can we eat already? I skipped breakfast—I’m starving.”

       Tao Ze kept his smile polite. “Please wait just a moment.”

       The young man’s steps faltered. Something clicked in his mind, “He invited other people too, didn’t he?”

       “There are a few more guests. You’re the first to arrive.”

       “What’s that supposed to mean?” His face darkened instantly. “Who else did he invite? Did he hide it from me because he thought I wouldn’t come? Don’t tell me that brat Shen Xiao is coming too?”

       Tao Ze hesitated for just half a second—enough for the man to spin on his heel and head for the exit. Cold sweat broke out down Tao Ze’s back. He hurried after him, pleading, “Young Master Rong, you’re already here…”

       They hadn’t gone far before two more men entered through the front doors. Their faces bore a striking resemblance, though one looked to be in his thirties—serious in a formal suit—while the younger, in his early twenties, wore a warm, easy smile.

       “Well, well, Shen Rong, long time no see,” the younger greeted first.

       The first arrival ignored him, removing his sunglasses to reveal a clean-cut face, and turned toward the elder. “Ting ge.”

       “Mm,” Shen Ting nodded. The younger, Shen Xiao, added, “You’re leaving already?”

       “Why would I leave?” Shen Rong replied coldly. “Just thought I’d take a look around.”

       “Really? I thought you were afraid to see me.” Shen Xiao smirked. “I messed up last time—been meaning to apologise. But then I figured it was just some bar singer. Hardly worth letting her ruin our brotherhood. You didn’t take it to heart, right?”

       Shen Rong’s smile was thin and sharp. “You’re right. There’s no shortage of women. Just for next time—if you like one, tell me directly. I’ll wrap her up and deliver her to you myself. But don’t pull that ‘take first, ask later’ crap again. Being timid in business is one thing, but being small-minded in bed? That’s just pathetic.”

       Shen Xiao’s smile froze. Tao Ze, drenched in sweat, jumped in to divert, “Young Master Ting, refreshments are ready—please, have some tea.”

       Shen Ting nodded and walked in. With that interruption, the other two couldn’t keep arguing and followed him inside. Once tea was served, Tao Ze returned to the entrance. As he turned the corner, the sigh of relief he had just felt disappeared; this time, his nerves were on edge.

       This time, two female guests arrived. The one on the left had delicate brows and almond eyes, her black hair cascading like silk, embodying the gentle grace unique to Eastern women. The one on the right, slightly older, wore her hair short; her beauty was sharper, brighter—refined yet cutting. If the first was a pearl in a box, the second was a blade in its sheath.

       The short-haired woman shrugged off her coat and handed it to a maid. Her first words were, “Where’s Tao Ze?”

       The assistant instinctively shrank behind a cabinet, but remembering his duty, he stepped out with a forced smile. “Miss Anning,” he greeted, then turned to the younger woman, “Miss Jiahe.”

       Shen Anning smiled brightly. “Missed me?”

       Tao Ze froze—there was no safe answer to that. He settled for diplomacy, “I’ve been looking forward to your arrival.”

       “Do I look good today?” she pressed.

       “You always look beautiful.”

       “Who’s prettier, me or Jiahe?”

       There it was, the killer question… Shen Jiahe covered her mouth, laughing quietly to watch the show.

       Tao Ze, driven by sheer survival instinct, replied, “You’re both beautiful in your own ways.”

       “Describe it,” Anning insisted mercilessly.

       “I’m not good with words,” he said weakly, “but you’re both the kind of beauty men would gladly fall head over heels for.”

       Anning narrowed her eyes. “Is that so? Then how come I still don’t have a boyfriend? People say you should be with someone who appreciates you. Seems like you’re the only one who does. Why don’t we give it a try?”

       Cold sweat trickled down his back. He ducked his head. “I’m not worthy. The man fit for you must be a true dragon among men. The meal will start soon—please, come sit inside.”

       Anning eyed him. “Funny, your mouth doesn’t sound clumsy at all. Smooth talker like you—Shen Liu’s wasting your talent as a butler. Why don’t you come work for me? I’ll double your salary.”

       “Tsk, poaching from under my roof—isn’t that a bit improper?” came a man’s voice, saving Tao Ze from disaster.

       “Liu ge,” Jiahe greeted.

       Shen Liu nodded. “Thank you for coming all this way.”

       “What, and I didn’t?” Anning huffed. “I came straight here from the airport. You dare call me improper?”

       Shen Liu chuckled. “Touching, truly. I’ll make sure to serve you and Jiahe something special to wash off the travel dust.”

       “Forget it,” she muttered. “Your banquets always feel like traps.” Still, she headed inside of her own accord.

       Tao Ze exhaled in relief.

       Shen Liu shot him a knowing smile.

       Guests arrived one after another. The air in the reception room grew heavy with the invisible smoke of social warfare. Outwardly, everyone maintained the grace and poise of high society—sipping tea, nibbling pastries, trading elegant pleasantries—but their words were full of barbs. Every polite phrase hid an insult; every compliment, a veiled jab. It was verbal fencing at its finest: subtle, poisonous, and lethal.

       Even as an outsider, Tao Ze felt pricked just listening. Yet Shen Liu sat in the middle of it all, smiling like a spring breeze, completely unfazed.

       When all eight guests had arrived, they moved to the dining room.

       Shen Li, the last to show, was nursing a hangover from last night’s drinking session. He rubbed his temples. “Shen Liu, if you’ve got something to say, just say it. Once you’re done, I’m going home to sleep. What’s this dinner for anyway? It’s not New Year’s, no need for another fake display of family harmony.”

       “Tired? Should I have a bed brought over?” Shen Liu asked mildly.

       It sounded like a joke, but there was pressure under the words. The others exchanged glances and fell silent. Shen Li gave an awkward cough and straightened in his seat.

       The ones at this ‘family dinner’ were all the true power players among the younger Shen generation. The fact that Shen Liu could summon them meant he had leverage.

       “I did invite you all for a reason,” Shen Liu said, unhurried. “But first, let’s eat. Considering how our family relations aren’t exactly good enough for everyone to share the same dishes, I decided to go with French cuisine.”

       For once, Tao Ze saw unanimous approval in their eyes.

       Noticing the empty seat beside Shen Liu, Shen Jiahe asked, “Is someone else still coming?”

       Shen Liu glanced at his watch—the hands pointed to 11:30. He looked toward the door, smiling. “Considering that listening to all that nonsense and mockery while eating might cause indigestion, I’ve invited a special guest to join us. Please, everyone, stay calm and well-mannered—let’s not embarrass the Shen family.”

       Then he rose to his feet. “Allow me to introduce someone I greatly respect… my lawyer friend—Qin Mu.”

       And that was how Lawyer Qin, completely unprepared, found himself stepping into the dining room still wearing his pyjamas under a tableful of assessing stares.

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T/N:
Uh oh, sorry, I haven’t finished translating this when I scheduled it T_T
I totally forgot I scheduled it already
IDK WHAT HAPPENED THO
It looks okay when I logged in…

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       In the bathroom.

       

       The fine stream of water pattered against his body, washing away the remnants of passion and desire. Thinking back to what had just happened, Qin Mu felt as if he had gone mad.

       Ordinarily, he carried himself like a calm old monk who had long seen through the dust of the mortal world. Yet the moment he faced that man, all composure vanished—he became like a block of dull, foolish wood, led by a string, performing a ridiculous puppet show.

       He stood under the shower for a long while with his eyes closed before finally pressing down the emotion that he did not even know whether it was regret or melancholy. When he stepped out, wrapped in a bathrobe, he found Shen Liu fiddling with the props they had used earlier.

       After all these years of practice, Qin Mu’s ability to feign composure was still decent. Even though he was so embarrassed, he refused to acknowledge the messy bed. His expression remained calm as he asked, “Need help?”

       “No. I’m waiting for you.” Shen Liu tossed the ruler aside. His hair was slightly long, and when he didn’t tie it up, his fringe covered most of his brows, making his gaze seem even deeper.

       “What, scared to sleep alone?” Qin Mu teased.

       “Yeah.” The other man was very good at playing along. “Scared to death—been waiting for you to come and soothe my fragile soul.”

       “You flatter me. I don’t have that kind of skill. Find someone else.” Qin Mu spoke as he moved toward the door, but it wouldn’t open.

       The man strolled over at an unhurried pace, unlocked it, and followed him back to the master bedroom. Ignoring Qin Mu’s look of dismissal, he sat down boldly at the bedside.

       Qin Mu’s mouth twitched. “Since you’re treating this place as a guest room, shouldn’t you at least show some respect?”

       Shen Liu leaned lazily against the soft pillows. “Just now, you were the one who kissed me so eagerly, crying and gasping with pleasure. Now you’re turning hostile and driving me out after you’re done? That’s too heartless, isn’t it?”

       When it came to shamelessness, Shen Liu was blessed beyond measure, while Qin Mu was unfortunate enough to lose at the starting line. Just a few words were enough to make his ears burn. Fearing the man would say something even more indecent, he said coldly, “Are you leaving or not?” His posture was already that of someone ready to go if the other stayed.

       Shen Liu had always known how to play with boundaries; he teased just enough before pulling back. Despite his usual lack of decorum, he now wore a serious look, adopting the air of a business negotiator. “A gentleman keeps his word. We agreed on a one-night stand—so even if it hasn’t been eight hours, at least wait until morning, right? Besides, a game should honour its contract. Did you carry out my last command just now?”

       “So?” Qin Mu raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to spew nonsense.

       “So…” Shen Liu drew out the word, then patted the empty half of the bed beside him. “I’ll skip the punishment. Just stay and sleep with me for a while. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

       He was always like this. He raised the knife high, only to set it down gently, taking the stance of ‘see, I’m being reasonable and even letting you off,’ leaving others with no way to advance or retreat. To get angry would seem petty, but to step into his trap was unbearable.

       Qin Mu stood there with a stiff face. Shen Liu didn’t rush him, quietly waiting.

       What was done was done; what’s the point of dwelling on it? Qin Mu thought this and suddenly let go. He took off his bathrobe, pulled up the blanket, and lay down on the outer side.

       Shen Liu’s lips curved slightly. He turned off the light and lay down too, tugging half of the double blanket over himself.

       In the darkness, their two bare bodies seemed imprisoned in a small enclosed space. Neither of them moved.

       After a moment, Shen Liu gave a low chuckle. “Asleep already?”

       Qin Mu didn’t answer.

       A warm body pressed against his back. The breath near his ear carried the cool scent of mint from mouthwash. Qin Mu ignored him, keeping his eyes closed and pretending to be dead. The man, growing bolder, slipped an arm around his waist. The hand that brushed his skin seemed to carry tiny electric currents—numbing and ticklish. Qin Mu couldn’t stand it anymore. “Sleep on your own side.”

       “I’m afraid of the dark,” the man said smoothly, pushing the limits of shamelessness. “I can only sleep while holding something.”

       Bullshit, Qin Mu cursed inwardly, gritting his teeth. “Take your hand away.”

       “I won’t move. I swear.” Shen Liu rested his forehead against the back of Qin Mu’s head and finally quieted down.

       Seeing that he wasn’t misbehaving anymore, Qin Mu curled up slightly. Because of his lack of security, he always slept in a defensive posture. Shen Liu’s embrace felt the same as before; it was disorienting.

       Their breathing gradually slowed. As vigilance faded, drowsiness crept in, pulling both of them into a hazy dream. Like two fish swimming upstream, they drifted through the current of time, retracing lost years, rediscovering forgotten memories.

       They slept soundly all night.

       

       Driven by his biological clock, Qin Mu woke up first.

       The blackout curtains kept the room shrouded in dimness. Even in the dark, the face before him appeared distinct—features well-defined, brows and eyes clear, nose straight, lashes long.

       It was said that Shen Liu resembled his mother. Her surname was Xue, and her given name was Ning. The Xue family had once been one of the four great clans of City J, but they chose the wrong side. Over twenty years ago, an investigation had dug up a trove of old crimes—selling state secrets, illegal smuggling, land grabs and profiteering. The family fell apart overnight, never to recover, and their place was soon taken by the rising Shi family.

       At the time of the incident, the Shen and Xue families were already connected by marriage. Xue Ning had begged the Shen family for help, but after weighing the situation, Shen Lan chose to withdraw completely. Their relationship was shattered from then on. After the Xue family’s downfall, Xue Ning became the target of mockery from the Shen family’s sisters-in-law and soon fell into a deep depression.

       At that time, she was already pregnant. For the sake of his political career and public image, Shen Lan didn’t file for divorce, but his attitude toward her grew colder by the day. This pitiful woman, who had once entered the Shen family bringing her own family’s prestige and wealth, serving as a pawn in consolidating their power, could only watch helplessly as her family collapsed, becoming a ghostly presence trapped in the Shen household, neither seen nor heard.

       After long-term treatment, her depression improved. She withdrew to a secluded mountain temple, living as a lay Buddhist, spending her days in vegetarian fasting and chanting, no longer concerning herself with worldly affairs. She even deliberately avoided her son. Later, when Shen Liu grew up and came to understand the reasons behind it all, he rarely disturbed her again, merely sending pastries through servants during holidays to show a token of filial piety.

       He had a mother, yet it was as if he had none; he had a father, yet their relationship was distant to the point of absurdity.

       When Shen Liu had once told Qin Mu about these family matters, cutting out the unpleasant parts and speaking as if they were trivial gossip, it had only made Qin Mu’s heart ache for him all the more.

       In his youth, Shen Liu’s features carried a sharp yet careless contradiction, like a nameless swordsman’s blade hanging askew at his hip, or a proud lone wolf wandering the wild hills. He was unrestrained, cynical, and had a playful attitude towards life. Now, though, he had become more restrained, like a sheathed sword or a mist-shrouded mountain, revealing only a glimpse of his true nature before Qin Mu.

       Qin Mu knew he should take the chance to get up while the other man was still asleep, to avoid awkwardness later. But his body didn’t move. His gaze lingered uncontrollably on Shen Liu’s face, tracing it again and again in the dim light, as if trying to etch it permanently into memory.

       Suddenly, Shen Liu’s eyelashes fluttered. Qin Mu hurriedly shut his eyes, amused at himself; at his age, why was he still acting like some bashful boy doing foolish things?

       Shen Liu wasn’t fully awake yet. Half-dreaming, he stretched out his long arm and drew Qin Mu into his embrace. His breath fell against Qin Mu’s hair, tickling slightly. The intimate posture, the warmth of skin, the strength of his arm, and the lingering scent of body wash—all of it stirred Qin Mu’s thoughts.

       He couldn’t help wondering: *Was this how he usually held others when he slept?*

       The thought inexplicably irritated him. He gently lifted the arm hooked around his waist to slip away. However, the moment he tried, that arm tightened instantly and pulled him back into his embrace.

       Qin Mu: “…”

       “Where are you sneaking off to?” Shen Liu asked, eyes half-lidded, his voice lazy with a hint of a nasal drawl.

       “It’s morning,” Qin Mu said expressionlessly.

       “Is it? The room’s so dark—it must still be early. Stay a little longer.”

       Qin Mu narrowed his eyes. “I’m curious about something.”

       “Hm?”

       “Did you train your face with iron-sand palm?”

       Shen Liu laughed, and beneath the blanket, his hand slipped down to press heavily against the cleft of Qin Mu’s lower back. “I’ve trained other parts too. Want to test them again?”

       Qin Mu caught his wrist, his cheeks faintly red. Early morning was a dangerous time for accidents, and continuing this would be unwise. Fortunately, Shen Liu had enough sense to stop there.

       “What are you planning to do about the Zhao family?” Qin Mu asked, unable to hold back.

       “Worried I’ll dine and dash, or that I’ll lose to Zhao Jinchuan?” Shen Liu’s lips curved into a teasing smile.

       Qin Mu knew he wouldn’t get a straight answer, so he didn’t press further. Suddenly, Shen Liu leaned in and brushed a light kiss on his forehead. Qin Mu looked up to see him smiling. “We’re old already—no need to act like before.”

       It sounded like a joke, but on closer thought, it seemed to carry another meaning. Before Qin Mu could figure out what it was, Shen Liu chuckled and asked, “Want to hug a little longer?”

       The arm around him had already loosened.

       Qin Mu got up and dressed, deliberately ignoring the unabashed gaze following his every movement. Once dressed, he asked seriously, “What’s for breakfast?”

       Shen Liu leaned leisurely against the headboard, the blanket barely covering his waist, his tone once again turning roguish. “Me?”

       “Too old. Hard to chew,” Qin Mu replied coolly.

       “Then lie down—I’ll do the work. I’ll make sure you’re full.”

       Qin Mu shot him a sidelong look, smiling with provocation. “Oh? How many seconds?”

       Shen Liu: “…”

       As the saying goes, those who live by flirting must one day suffer its bite. Every scoundrel’s words eventually came back to haunt him. The boy who once blushed at a single tease had now grown into someone who could spar shamelessly in return, leaving Shen Liu oddly wistful. With a hint of wounded pride, he surrendered. “What do you want to eat? I’ll have the kitchen make it.”

       “Shrimp dumplings. The same as yesterday.”

       Shen Liu chuckled. “You really are loyal to what you like.”

       During breakfast, the guest ate with calm composure while the host watched with interest—both perfectly content. When Qin Mu finally finished eating, Shen Liu suddenly asked, “Do you want to see Zhao Jinchuan?”

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T/N:
Thank you for your encouragement as always Desuma ^^

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       Qin Mu had stared blankly at the brass alarm clock for a long time, only snapping back to his senses when Shen Liu, wrapped in a bath towel, stood in front of him. Their gazes collided, and he immediately looked away. “I’ll go wash up.”

       “Need any help?” Shen Liu asked with a smile.

       Qin Mu ignored him, not even lifting his head as he walked into the bathroom.

       The man’s lips curved faintly, but when his eyes shifted to that alarm clock, his gaze gradually turned cold and deep lines etched between his brows.

       Time flowed on, the hands drawing faithful circles again and again, yet he had lost the π hidden in his heart, never to be whole again. Even now, the crushing helplessness of those days still seemed to linger within him, a sinister shadow that refused to disperse. Keeping this thing by his side was to constantly remind himself never to repeat the same mistake.

       Back then, he had been too young, thinking with reckless courage that he could force Shen Lan to give in—until the day he saw those photos in Shen Yan’s hands.

       They were all close-up shots, every detail captured with stark clarity.

       “Where did these come from?” He frowned, unease rising within.

       “On your dad’s desk,” Shen Yan answered.

       “What does he want to do?” His voice flared with anger as he braced against the edge of the bed to get up, but Shen Yan pushed him back down. The movement tugged at his injured leg, and pain drained the colour from his face.

       One of the photos slipped to the floor. Frozen in the frame, Qin Mu was standing on the dormitory balcony, the angle suggesting it had been secretly taken from the opposite building. Shen Yan picked it up and asked, “Do you think you can beat him?”

       Shen Liu stayed silent.

       “You don’t understand him,” Shen Yan said leisurely. “Your youthful rebellion, leaving home to study at K University, making low-class friends, even fooling around with someone of the same sex—he can tolerate all that. Because on the track he has laid for you, those are nothing more than minor detours, unable to change your future’s main course. But he cannot tolerate you derailing completely. As a father, he cannot be harsh with his own child. Breaking your leg was merely an accident in a fit of rage. But with Qin Mu, he will not be so lenient. Qin Mu’s studies, future, life—even his very survival—are all cards in his hand. Any single one of them, you cannot afford to lose. You have no chips in hand, yet you revealed your hidden card too early. So this game was doomed to fail from the start.”

       He tossed the photo into Shen Liu’s hands.

       “It was you who put Qin Mu in front of the lens. The distance between him and the camera is the distance between him and danger. If you keep clinging to your misguided stubbornness, in the end, you will be the one to harm him.”

       Those words landed like a stinging slap across Shen Liu’s face, leaving him dazed. Emotions surged like crashing waves, and he felt as though he were a lone boat adrift in a pitch-dark sea, helpless before a distant lighthouse that was about to go dark. Unconsciously, he clenched the photo tightly, as though trying to hold onto that faint spark in the darkness. “He… he wouldn’t go that far.” His voice was very soft, so soft that it betrayed his wavering and doubt.

       “A Shen family son should not be so naive.” Shen Yan’s face was expressionless. “The obstinacy of the weak is meaningless. Before you have the power to fight back, don’t make decisions that will leave you with regret. This is advice—whether you heed it or not is up to you.”

       When he finished, he took the envelope of photos and left, leaving only that one photo for Shen Liu.

       In the picture, Qin Mu looked slightly thin, his gaze drawn upward as if captivated by a passing bird. He was looking toward the distant sky, and at his collar there was a glimpse of a red string.

       Shen Liu knew that at the hidden end of that string was a silver ring, engraved with the digits of π, ending with the initials of their names.

       It was their one-year anniversary memento.

       They had agreed that when the day came, they would be strong enough not to care about the opinions of others, and they would wear it on their ring fingers.

       They had agreed to buy a small house, raise a few cats, and live together.

       They had agreed to hold hands and walk through countless years, until the very end of life.

       They had agreed…

       Daylight spilt through the side window, casting a shadow of gloom across Shen Liu’s features. Half his brows and eyes were lost in the dark, making his expression unreadable. But at the edge of his eyes, caught in the light, a faint redness slowly spread—like a trace of blood suppressed in the depths. Tears broke free despite him, scalding hot as they fell onto the photograph.

       He closed his eyes.

       The world sank into a dark, silent void. Ancient stars fell one after another, taking with them the last light.

       Shen Yan had been right—he could not protect him.

 

       That night, Shen Liu went to see Shen Lan.

       The elder sat on the sofa, glanced at his leg, and with a stern face said, “My time is limited. If you’re here to talk about so-called ‘freedom and independence,’ then save it. I’m not interested.”

       “I came to make peace.” Shen Liu seemed calm, his tone stripped of its usual aggressiveness, carrying instead a rare sincerity. “Even though we’re father and son, we rarely talk without fighting. We can’t get through two sentences before it turns into an argument, and in the end, we can’t even speak properly. At this point, I don’t expect you to understand me fully, but I also don’t want our relationship as father and son to rot so badly. Today, I want to tell you something from the heart.”

       He paused for a moment, unconsciously touching the pendant on his chest through his shirt, as if weighing his words—or perhaps giving himself courage. “I like Qin Mu. I really like him. I like him so much that I want to spend the rest of my life with him. In all my years, I’ve never liked anyone this much. He is my bottom line. If anyone touches that line… I don’t know what I might do. Maybe I’d collapse, maybe I’d go mad, maybe I’d even die.”

       Shen Lan’s eyelid twitched, his face darkening. “Are you threatening me?”

       “No. Like I said, I came to make peace.” Shen Liu met his eyes and spoke slowly. “He’s just an outsider—simple, innocent. He doesn’t even know what the Shen family really is. He just happened to meet me, and happened to fall in love with me. Other than that, he has no ulterior motives. You must have investigated him—you should know his hardships, the grievances he had endured. He’s suffered enough. I may not be able to give him happiness, but at the very least, I shouldn’t let him be hurt. So I’ll let him go. I ask you to let him go too. Dad, this is your son’s request to you.”

       Shen Lan gave a low and dismissive hum, his expression easing slightly. Coldly, he asked, “And how do you plan to handle this?”

       “I need two months. After that, whether it’s studying abroad, marrying whoever you choose, or taking over the family business, I’ll do whatever you say. From then on…” Shen Liu’s lips moved; it took him all his strength to force out the words, “…I’ll have nothing to do with him again.”

       Shen Lan frowned. “Two months?”

       “Two months in exchange for a lifetime of obedience—surely that’s a fair bargain?” Shen Liu countered.

       Shen Lan stared at him for a moment before loosening his stance. “Fine. I’ll give you two months. But if you go back on your word, then I won’t guarantee what might happen.”

       Shen Liu tugged the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry. I never break a promise lightly.”

 

       The next morning, the imprisoned youth was finally allowed to leave the house.

       After so many days, when Shen Liu saw the gaunt, broken Qin Mu searching anxiously for him outside the school gates, his chest felt as though it were being torn apart.

       But he couldn’t let it show.

       He clenched his teeth, forcing every ounce of sorrow, pain, and unwillingness deep down into his heart. Those emotions raged like wild beasts, screaming and thrashing, and holding them back nearly drained him completely.

       He said, “Log, let’s run away together. Forget everything else—let’s just go.”

       Yet inside his body, another voice was shouting—Hit me, Log. Slap me. Drive me away.

       He saw Qin Mu’s confusion. But only for an instant. Then, the man said, “Okay.”

       Side by side on horseback, not asking about the future.

       To have someone who shared the same heart, what more could he ask for in this life?

       Shen Liu’s tears almost spilt out. He could only lower his head awkwardly, avoiding Qin Mu’s gaze.

       They went to Tingyun Town, a place that was so beautiful it felt like a paradise untouched by the world.

       Before the farewell he had long planned arrived, every moment they spent together was all the more precious. The wind over the river, the clouds at the edge of the sky, the person before his eyes, even that pile of fish waiting to be cleaned in the pond — all of them made Shen Liu reluctant to let go. Sometimes, when he looked at Qin Mu’s back, he would wonder—what would happen after he left? Would he cry? Who would comfort him, who would take care of him? Would he meet someone better than him? Would he love that person the way he loved him?

       When the thoughts became unbearable, he would turn to the window and pretend to watch the television in the building opposite.

       Time was a thief of exquisite craft, stealing away youth and slipping soundlessly past the front and back of the house. Shen Yan arrived as promised to bring down the curtain on this self-directed and self-performed play.

       Shen Yan asked, “Why must you force him to be the one to propose breaking up?”

       Shen Liu answered, “So that he won’t cling to me. Qin Mu is very fragile, and that fragility comes from the inferiority he felt in his youth. If I were the one to abandon him, he would continue to question whether he wasn’t good enough, and spiral endlessly into self-denial. Yet at the same time, he possesses a resilience that ordinary people don’t. When he believes something is worthwhile, he will give it everything, sparing no effort and paying any price. If you give him a clear reason, letting him choose to break up ‘for my sake’, then he won’t bear such a heavy sense of guilt, and he’ll be able to adjust faster and step into a new life. And also…” Shen Liu tossed the leaf in his hand into the pond, lowered his gaze, and said, “If he were the one who left me, then he would remember me for the rest of his life.”

       The leaf spun on the water, swaying with the ripples.

       Shen Yan sighed. “I truly don’t know if you’re merciful or cruel.”

 

       Later, Shen Liu saw Qin Mu’s lost and broken figure in the heavy rain. He saw the struggle and reluctance in Qin Mu’s eyes, and he also saw the redness rimmed around Qin Mu’s eyes after drinking. His heart felt as if it had been pierced through, a blunt blade pulling back and forth through the wound, tearing flesh and blood. Yet he insisted on pretending to know nothing, watching with open eyes as Qin Mu suffered in pain.

       He said, ‘May my Little Log eat plenty of good food from now on and always be happy.’

       He said, ‘All right, you’ve grown up, I won’t care for you anymore.’

       He said, ‘Eat more, don’t always endure hunger.’

       He said, ‘Kiss me.’

       He said many things, but the one thing he never dared to say was “I love you.” Those three words were carved into his heart, yet could never again be spoken aloud.

       Shen Liu finally got his wish—he heard that sentence, “Let’s break up.”

       He closed his eyes and thought, perhaps this heart-rending pain would only come once in this lifetime. From now on, his heart would be dead and would never hurt again.

       When they parted, the rain poured down in torrents. Qin Mu’s figure disappeared in the rearview mirror. At last, Shen Liu clutched the ring hanging over his chest and silently began to cry.

 

       You were the gentleness in my gaze, you were the immortality in my heart, you were nearly the whole reason I loved this world.*

       But I had no strength to keep you. All I had left was what once was. May you have everything from here on.

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Author’s Note:
*Quoted from Milan Kundera’s Immortality

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T/N:
I hope you guys are happy with the updates for now
There are only around 23 chapters until the series ends, and hopefully, I can do more updates more often ^^

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       “Sorry.” He stopped and forced a faint tug at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know. Most families in this town are surnamed Bai.”

       The man glanced at him. “Are you from here?”

       “Don’t I look like one?” Qin Mu asked in return.

       “No accent.”

       “My Mandarin is just better,” he said, and then naturally greeted a fellow townsman they passed in the local dialect, “Ai, have you eaten?”

       “Yeah, I have,” the other person drawled in reply.

       Qin Mu’s Tingyun dialect was flawless. He had suspected that Shen Liu might have debts outside, or perhaps had offended someone and needed to hide. So he fabricated a backstory for the two of them as college students returning to their hometown, and secretly picked up common local phrases from Chef Fang to keep up the pretence. What he hadn’t expected was that the pursuers would come so quickly.

       Sweat broke out across his back as he anxiously tried to think of a countermeasure. As the two of them walked side by side, the man suddenly stopped and asked, “Aren’t you going to talk about it?”

       Qin Mu’s heart gave a violent jolt. On guard, he asked, “…About what?”

       The man lifted the rim of his umbrella. His deep, dark eyes gazed through the curtain of rain toward the cluster of stone archways not far away. “These.”

       Only then did Qin Mu realise, and he exhaled in relief. Pointing to the nearest one, he began reciting, “The Ming Emperor Shenzong granted the largest archway to Bai Wanshan. Bai Wanshan was a top scholar in the imperial exams, served as imperial tutor, Vice Minister of Rites, and Grand Academician of Wenchang Pavilion, attaining the rank of a third-grade official. To honour his loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, and love, the emperor ordered this archway erected for his mother, praising her for her exemplary upbringing. The Bai family flourished in the Ming dynasty, with more than thirty archways, but later declined after being implicated in an exam cheating scandal, and most were destroyed. Half of those standing now are reconstructions based on historical records. This road is the ancient path into town. Up ahead is a small pavilion called the Official’s Hat Pavilion, where Bai descendants would dismount when returning home. The rain’s getting heavy, let’s take shelter there.”

       “All right,” the man agreed.

       Raindrops pattered densely on the tiles, rolling down into a fine net of water. Mist rose over the distant green mountains, veiling them in ethereal vapour, hazy and indistinct.

       “The scenery here is beautiful. Even rain has its own kind of beauty too.” Qin Mu deliberately tried to draw him out. “Where did you come from?”

       “J City.”

       “A big city in the north.” Qin Mu’s gaze furtively roved over him. “Here to visit a friend? Someone you met online?”

       “He’s my younger brother,” the man said.

       Qin Mu’s breath hitched. He masked his suspicion and wariness with a smile, forcing his tone to sound casual. “He came here to travel?”

       “No. He ran away from home.” The man’s right hand rested on the umbrella handle, his left in his trouser pocket, his posture straight as a rod. “He’s always been stubborn and strong-willed, unwilling to follow the family’s arrangements. Unfortunately, his father is also a stubborn man. Their arguments escalated, shaking the house with turmoil. In a fit of rage, his father struck him and broke his leg, then locked him up. When he was able to get out of bed, he ran.”

       Qin Mu gripped his umbrella tighter, his lips pressed into a rigid line. He told himself this was just a stranger, not someone he could trust. But deep inside, some unconscious part of him believed every word.

       So this was why Shen Liu had left him, why he had taken him along in his flight. It wasn’t because of debts, nor because he had offended anyone. It was simply because he wanted to be with him.

       In that instant of truth, Qin Mu felt as if a herd of wild horses had stampeded across his chest, shattering the fence he had painstakingly built, trampling the untouched ground he had tried so hard to protect into a desolate mire. And he could not stop them, could not chase them, could not save it—he could only watch helplessly as they thundered past, his heart twisting with pain. He knew he ought to say something, but nothing would come.

       “I watched him grow up. In the family, I might be the one closest to him.” The man looked at the towering archways in the rain and spoke slowly. “Sometimes, family can be a cruel thing. It turns its members into interlocking gears, grinding away individuality until only the ability to move toward a common goal remains. Being inside it means much is beyond your control. But sometimes, it does bring benefits—promising prospects, a bright future. His path has long been paved by many others. As long as he walks it, he can easily gain things others could never obtain, stand taller, and see farther. He can give that up, but what he exchanges it for must hold greater value.” He turned his face then, looking calmly at the person beside him. “That could be something else. But it cannot be you, Qin Mu.”

       Qin Mu’s pupils contracted sharply. His eyes flew open wide in panic as he stared at him.

       “Let’s reintroduce ourselves. I’m Shen Yan, Shen Liu’s cousin.” When this man met someone’s gaze, there was a hard and icy aura about him, like a glacier that had never melted. “Shen Liu is an only child. The family has high expectations for him. He once promised that after graduating from university, he would study abroad, then take over the family’s overseas business. Now he’s broken that promise.” He paused. “To the family, he can be an idle good-for-nothing, he can be a frivolous libertine, he can even have odd little quirks. But what he cannot be is a homosexual—let alone abandon his family and future for the sake of another man.”

       “You want to drag him back?” Qin Mu heard his own voice trembling.

       “I’m here to ask a favour of you,” Shen Yan said. “Given Shen Liu’s temperament, the only way he might let go is if you leave him of your own accord.”

       “I won’t leave him.” The words burst from Qin Mu’s lips. His hands clenched into fists, the knuckles whitening with the force.

       The man seemed unsurprised, his expression flat, his tone cool. “Do you mean for him to gut fish here for the rest of his life?”

       Qin Mu froze.

       “I heard he’s done many things for you. And what about you—what are you prepared to do for him?” Shen Yan’s voice was unhurried, even mild, yet every question cut like a sharp blade, impossible to withstand.

       “Have you thought about his future? His ambitions? The things he still has to accomplish?”

       “He told you he liked this life, and you just believed it?”

       “With the two of you starting from where you are now, what kind of future can you possibly have?”

       “Can such a future really lead to happiness?”

       Qin Mu couldn’t answer. He felt like a criminal bound to an execution rack, suffering hundreds of slow cuts, until he hurt too much even to breathe. The bitterness in his chest corroded away his stubborn resolve, his defences collapsing piece by piece until all that remained was ruin.

       “Have you considered that one day he might regret it? Regret leaving home, regret choosing such a meagre life, regret being with you. When that day comes, what will you do?”

       Shen Yan was putting aside family, elders, and the weight of tradition. What he spoke of was only the two of them and the relationship between them. And that was what made it fatal, each word striking straight at the heart.

       Like the final flake of snow before an avalanche. Like the last straw laid on a weary camel’s back. Like the final thrust of a knife into Qin Mu’s chest.

       A chill rose over Qin Mu’s body, his blood seeming to freeze in an instant.

       He had dreamt of such a nightmare before. In it, Shen Liu walked into the downpour without a backward glance, never returning.

       Now, Shen Yan’s brooding eyes seemed like that endless darkness in his dreams, extinguishing every light. And the fear buried deep inside Qin Mu clawed its way out like brittle white bones, gripping his legs, climbing his chest, dragging him into a bottomless abyss.

       “Qin Mu, as someone who’s been through this, let me give you a piece of advice. Love is like two people walking together—you never know when the other might stop, turn back, or take another path.” Shen Yan opened his umbrella. “I’ve said all I came to say. I’ll be staying in town for three days. I hope you’ll make your decision soon.”

       The black umbrella vanished into the rain.

       Qin Mu stood with his head bowed, unmoving for a long time.

       Rain poured down from all directions. Gusts of wind blew the water in, soaking the last dry patch of ground beneath his feet. Everything that had just happened felt like a damp, sorrowful dream, one that had seeped through and left a long, lingering ache.

       He walked a long way before realising he hadn’t opened his umbrella. His entire body was drenched, and the rain running down his face tasted salty and bitter.

       This was a familiar road. At the alley’s end stood Chef Fang’s restaurant. Entering and crossing the small dining hall led to the kitchen. At the sink, Shen Liu was bent over, washing fish. When water from a flicked tail spattered his face, he brushed it away with his shoulder.

       Qin Mu’s nose stung, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. He wanted to rush forward and embrace the man in front of him, but he didn’t move. Only when Shen Liu turned his head did he hurriedly look aside, wiping at his eyes.

       “How did you get so soaked? Where’s your umbrella?” That voice was familiar, gentle.

       “It got torn apart by the wind.” Qin Mu lifted his face, forcing a difficult smile. “Are you done? Do you need me to help?”

       “Go home and change clothes,” Shen Liu frowned. “You’ll catch a cold in the rain.”

       “All right.” Qin Mu turned quickly, striding out in haste.

       

       In the afternoon the rain stopped. By dinnertime, the little restaurant was lively. Qin Mu got through the busiest hours, left Shen Liu behind to wait for the last two tables to settle the bill, and went home to cook a few dishes.

       Stir-fried eggplant with soy paste, scrambled eggs with tomato, braised pork with preserved vegetables, plus some fish ball soup he’d packed from the restaurant. The little table was filled to the brim, and he and Shen Liu sat cross-legged on the floor.

       “Why such a feast today?” Shen Liu asked.

       “Been holding back for so long, I’ve been craving. Today I just want to have a good meal.” Qin Mu twisted open a bottle of Red Star Erguotou¹a well-known strong Chinese liquor, and poured a little into a disposable paper cup for him.

       “Greedy cat.” Shen Liu laughed, clinking his cup against his. “I wish my Little Log would always have plenty of good food, and always be happy.”

       Qin Mu’s eyes reddened; he hurriedly drained the cup in one go.

       “Don’t drink so much. Eat some food first, or you’ll be drunk soon.” Shen Liu pressed down the bottle to stop him.

       Qin Mu smiled. “You’re still looking after me?”

       “All right, you’ve grown up, I won’t mind you anymore.” Shen Liu’s gaze, under the warm yellow lamp, was unusually gentle. He picked a piece of meat for Qin Mu and said, “Eat more, don’t always go hungry.”

       The meat was a bit tough. Qin Mu chewed hard, but he couldn’t taste a thing.

       After dinner, when he cleared away the bowls and chopsticks, he found Shen Liu gazing out the window. Across the street, on the second floor of a teahouse, a large screen TV was hanging. From their window, one could see it, though at a distance and not very clearly. A basketball game was on; players in white and red jerseys feinted and struggled fiercely for the ball.

       Qin Mu sat down beside him. Shen Liu, out of habit, slipped an arm around his waist.

       Neither of them spoke. They watched the entire game in silence.

       Qin Mu asked, “Which team won?”

       “The white team,” Shen Liu replied. “I worked up a sweat today. I need to take a shower.”

       “Mm.” Qin Mu helped him up.

       Shen Liu’s right leg was in a cast and couldn’t touch water. He needed help bathing. Qin Mu always ended up soaking wet, so later he simply stripped down and washed with him.

       Qin Mu ran his fingers through Shen Liu’s hair, gently working the shampoo into a lather. The man kept his eyes closed, yielding to his touch like a lazy, contented cat—perfectly obedient.

       Unknowingly, Qin Mu’s nose burned again, and he turned his face away in a panic to grab the showerhead and rinse Shen Liu off.

       Suddenly, a clap of thunder exploded outside. The sound was so close it seemed to be right overhead. The power cut out instantly, plunging the bathroom into darkness.

       Qin Mu flinched, but Shen Liu caught his hand quickly, comforting him, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

       “We’d better turn off the water; there could be a leak.” His voice steadied.

       “Okay.” Shen Liu shut off the tap and asked, “Where’s the towel?”

       Qin Mu fumbled around, couldn’t find it, and knocked something over with a clatter.

       “Don’t look.” Shen Liu’s fingers slid from his neck up to his cheek, stroked across his lips, and in a hoarse voice said, “Kiss me.”

       Thunder roared. In the cramped darkness of the bathroom, they clung to each other.

       Wet skin pressed and rubbed together; fierce desire sparked a blazing fire. Qin Mu lifted Shen Liu’s injured leg and thrust in savagely, like a beast driven to the brink, leaving bite marks deep and shallow across the man’s body, demanding his kiss again and again. Shen Liu softened his waist, offering no resistance, yielding wholly to his ravaging. He was like a spring of water—gentle, clear.

       The darkness concealed the tear tracks, erased sincerity, and blurred their expressions. Words that could never be spoken dissolved into sighs of grief-laden breath, vanishing into the night.

       The rain pounded furiously against the windows. Wind slipped through the cracks, howling like someone’s helpless, grieving cry.

       The next morning, Qin Mu sat on the edge of the bed and whispered, “Shen Liu, let’s break up.”

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Author Note:
All historical references in the chapter are purely fictional.

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       Nestled between mountains and rivers, Tingyun Town, with its lush green tiles and whitewashed walls, exudes the exquisite beauty typical of Jiangnan towns. During the Ming and Qing dynasties, the prominent Bai family of this place produced many scholars and wealthy merchants. Unfortunately, the wheel of history crushed its former glory, and the few cultural relics that had managed to survive were turned into a grotesque mess after repeated restorations. Only a few stone archways standing at the entrance of the town remained, silently bearing witness to the rise and fall, honour and disgrace of that once-mighty family.

       In recent years, the government had busied itself with tourism development. Yet, lacking both funds and proper planning, the attractions were scattered and low in quality, and visitor numbers remained unimpressive. As the saying went, “Flowers you deliberately plant may not bloom, but willows you never intended to grow thrive into shade.” While Tingyun Town’s vibrant artificial landscapes did not make much of a name for themselves, but the town’s pristine natural scenery attracted visitors instead. Young artists came to capture it with their cameras, old folks who yearned for country life lingered, and middle-aged families escaping the fast pace of big cities arrived in droves. The town grew lively, and sharp-eyed entrepreneurs integrated a few scattered attractions into a scenic area. Thanks to that, the surrounding homestay business also flourished.

       The little money Qin Mu had left, after renting a place and buying daily necessities, was already stretched thin. Introduced by the landlady, he found a job as a tour guide in the scenic area. The manager who interviewed him heard his fluent English and agreed on the spot. In truth, hardly any foreign visitors ever came here, but having someone who knew English sounded more upscale. The job was essentially that of a guide, without a formal contract. Most days, the work was done by idle farmwives from the town. The task was simple: memorize the lines and lead tourists on a walk around the town, earning fifteen yuan each time. Whether there was work or not depended on luck, so the income was unstable. Because of that, Qin Mu also found a side job helping in the small restaurant across from his lodging.

       Tingyun Town, close to water, was rich in fish, and its residents loved to eat it. Fresh bighead carp here were called ‘baotou¹wrapped head, because of it’s rounded head‘, and they grew to remarkable size. They were chopped in half, with the gills removed and the innards cleaned. The fish head was stewed with tofu into soup, while the body was cut into chunks and braised in soy sauce—this was the classic ‘one fish, two dishes’. Tingyun Town was not short of skilled hands at cooking fish, but among them, Master Fang of ‘Old Fang’s Fish Restaurant’ was regarded as the best.

       Chef Fang had been cooking fish for more than thirty years. Not only was his fish head stewed with tofu famous for its milky broth and tender flesh, but dishes like sizzling iron-plate fish head, braised white fish, steamed grouper, and mixed-fish hotpot were all part of his repertoire.

       His restaurant was so small that its two floors could only fit six tables in total, yet it was packed every single day, requiring reservations in advance. The patrons were not only locals but also many visitors who came for its reputation. Now that Chef Fang had passed the age of sixty, his hands were no longer as nimble as before. His wife’s health was not good, and his children were all working hard in the big cities, leaving him no choice but to hire extra help. The old man was stubborn. No matter how much food prices rose outside, the restaurant’s menu had remained unchanged for more than a decade, and the portions were never reduced. Because of this, profits were quite limited. The kitchen help worked hard yet received low pay, so they rarely lasted long. The previous auntie had quit before even two months had passed, which left Qin Mu with the opportunity to step in.

       Qin Mu was diligent—wiping tables, sweeping the floor, washing vegetables, even handling the cash and keeping the accounts. The only thing he couldn’t do was kill fish. He didn’t know why, but the moment he looked into a fish’s eyes, he froze. If the creature started thrashing its tail, Qin Mu could just about leap straight onto the rafters and sit shoulder-to-shoulder with the rows of cured meat hanging there.

       Old Chef Fang once gave him a demonstration with knife flashing in his hand, every movement sharp and swift, and within minutes the half-meter-long fish was neatly cleaned. But when he turned around, the student who was supposed to be observing had already darted two meters away, his forced composure about as fake as the knockoff ‘Mister Kang²Originally written in Kang Shuaifu is a knockoff / parody brand of Kang Shifu (Master Kong), a famous instant noodle brand in China. People often use it online as a metaphor for something obviously fake, low-quality, or pretending to be real‘ soft drinks in the shops.

       “Come here and try one yourself,” Master Fang barked.

       “I still have a few tables to wipe down,” Qin Mu muttered, slipping away as fast as oil on the soles of his feet.

       “You brat, stop right there.” The old man was quick; he grabbed Qin Mu by the back of his collar. “A strapping young fellow like you, afraid of live fish—what a disgrace! Start small. Clean these whitefish first.”

       Qin Mu turned his head and saw a pool packed tight with fish, bulging eyes glaring up at him. A chill ran from the soles of his feet all the way up his spine.

       Just then, a leisurely voice floated in.

       “Chef Fang, even at your age you’ve still got such strength. Truly old but vigorous.” Shen Liu hobbled in, leaning on a bamboo cane.

       Qin Mu frowned. “Why aren’t you at home resting? What are you doing here?”

       “Got tired of lying down. Came to see you.” He limped over to the pool, peered in, set his cane aside, and rolled up his sleeves. “Come on then, darlings. I’ll take care of you.”

       Chef Fang raised a brow. “You know how?”

       “No,” Shen Liu admitted with a smile, “but I’m smarter than him. Teach me.”

       The old man tossed him a pair of rubber gloves, half doubtful. “Fine. But let me make it clear—I’m only paying for one worker.”

       “Of course.” Shen Liu agreed cheerfully, then winked at Qin Mu. “Silly boy, fetch a tall chair for your gege.”

       Heat rushed to Qin Mu’s ears. He turned away quickly to find a chair.

       And so, Shen Liu took over the job of cleaning fish. He had always been a man with a taste for refinement, particular about cleanliness; he used to carry the scent of aftershave or cologne wherever he went. Now he reeked only of fish, the smell clinging stubbornly even after washing. When he showered, fish scales still slid from his hair. Watching Shen Liu’s hunched back as he worked in an apron, limping and bent over the sink, Qin Mu didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

       Their lives were poor and difficult. The attic they rented barely fit a double bed. Every meal had to be counted carefully; sometimes they even packed up customers’ leftovers to stretch things out. They had abandoned their studies and their bright futures to take on menial jobs with little reward, bowing and smiling to every kind of customer, ending each day sore and exhausted, worrying about next month’s rent and electricity.

       But they were together.

       Each morning they woke in each other’s arms. Each night they drifted off in the softness of a kiss. The day’s fatigue melted under shared massages. At every meal, looking up, they saw each other’s faces. In rare moments of leisure, they leaned on the railing outside the restaurant, watching the flow of people, the shifting clouds.

       At night they made love, with abandon and urgency, twining around each other, demanding, surrendering. Desire surged through them like a rushing river, crashing against their young bodies. Stifled moans and low, ragged breaths spilled out of the little attic that was never soundproof, like a wild hymn sung into the vast night.

       Even at the height of passion, Qin Mu was careful, afraid of hurting Shen Liu’s injured leg. But Shen Liu only held him tighter, whispering against his ear, “It’s fine. Come inside.” Sometimes he indulged Qin Mu’s fierceness; other times he used his injury to tease and provoke, luring Qin Mu into shameful positions, coaxing him to take him deeper, rougher.

       They had nothing, and yet it felt as if they had everything. They told each other everything, except for two things they both avoided:

       One was the cause. The other, the future.

       Shen Liu never explained what had happened during his disappearance. And since leaving K City, Qin Mu had never again spoken of his dreams for the days to come. He had once imagined graduating, taking the bar exam, the two of them struggling together in K City, saving for the down payment on a tiny apartment, making a home of their own. He had even planned the decor: a massive sofa, and maybe two little pets. But he never spoke of it again.

       After another night’s storm had ebbed away and starlight poured through the attic’s small skylight as they lay side by side. Suddenly, Shen Liu asked, “Log, what kind of life do you want?”

       Qin Mu froze for a moment, then said slowly, “A pastoral life. Planting a little vegetable patch, living off what we grow, storing up in autumn and winter. A life where we don’t have to bother with other people, where if we want greens we just go out and pick them. What about you?”

       It was probably because the moonlight was too bright that Shen Liu closed his eyes. “I want to live the kind of life you wanted to live.”

       He laughed. “So cheesy.”

 

       The weather gradually grew hotter. Qin Mu received his first month’s salary and took Shen Liu to the county hospital for an X-ray on his leg. The doctor said the recovery looked good, but it still needed more rest.

       On the way home, Qin Mu deliberately stopped by the market to buy two pig trotters, saying he wanted to borrow Chef Fang’s pressure cooker to stew soybeans with pig’s feet for Shen Liu to nourish his body.

       The county market was bustling. The crowd was noisy and lively, hawkers’ cries rose and fell, and the air was thick with the mingled aromas of fried stinky tofu, stir-fried rice cakes, egg pancakes, and oden. It had a clamor that was also full of warmth and closeness, the scent of everyday life. Qin Mu paused at a stall selling fried radish cakes. Just as he was about to leave, Shen Liu called him back.

       “What is it?” Qin Mu asked.

       Shen Liu pursed his lips toward the stall. “I want to eat that.”

       Qin Mu was surprised. “Don’t you not like these? Back then whenever I bought them you never…” He stopped mid-sentence, realizing the truth. It wasn’t that Shen Liu was craving it—he just wanted to buy it for him. A warmth spread in Qin Mu’s chest, and he smiled. “Forget it, I don’t feel like eating.” Their finances were tight; they saved wherever they could.

       “Just buy one. We’ll share it,” Shen Liu said.

       Qin Mu looked at him, then at the radish cakes, and sighed before stepping forward. “Boss, one please.”

       The hot fried cake sizzled with oil when bitten into, the fragrance so rich it felt like it opened every pore in the body. When Qin Mu handed it over, Shen Liu didn’t eat it. Instead, he leaned over just as Qin Mu took a bite and bit into it himself, their lips brushing at the corners. Qin Mu was so startled he nearly dropped the cake.

       “…Are you crazy!” He lowered his voice and scolded, “We’re on the street.”

       “You’re my boyfriend. What’s wrong with a kiss?” That rogue, stealing fragrance and jade, smiled with his eyes bent. “Your greasy mouth looks so appetizing.”

       Qin Mu’s face flushed red as he gritted his teeth. “Do you not want your other leg either?”

       “Go on, hit me. If you break it, then tonight you’ll have to do the full set all by yourself.” Shen Liu could be shameless anywhere, anytime.

       “I should just break your third leg too,” Qin Mu bit into the cake and strode off.

       “Murdering your husband is a serious crime. You can’t break the law,” Shen Liu leaned on his bamboo pole, following at a leisurely pace.

       Qin Mu had only taken a few steps before coming back to support him, stuffing the last bite of fried cake into his mouth. “Shut up.”

       “Yes, sir.” Shen Liu’s eyes brimmed with laughter.

 

       In Jiangnan, when summer approached, rain became frequent. The sky was like a creditor who could not collect his debt, keeping a gloomy, sullen face for days on end. Qin Mu received a job guiding a tour, and hurried through the rain from the restaurant to the ticket office.

       The tourist was a man, about thirty years old, holding a black umbrella.

       “Please come with me.” Qin Mu led him toward the archways, explaining the history of Tingyun Town along the way. When there was nothing more to say, he made small talk as usual. “There aren’t many visitors on rainy days. You came here alone?”

       “I came to find someone.” The man’s figure was tall and upright, carrying a stern and imposing presence. His steps were measured, not fast or slow, like the precise swing of a pendulum.

       “Find someone?” Qin Mu carefully avoided a puddle on the ground. “Someone living in this town? What’s the name? Maybe I can help.”

       “Shen Liu.”

       Qin Mu stepped straight into a puddle, soaking his shoe.

---

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       When Shen Liu was young, he was very high-profile, one of the most prominent figures at K University. Yet in matters of love, he was very discreet; aside from a small handful of people in the know, he never mentioned his relationship with Qin Mu to outsiders, nor did he ever display affection in public.

       This was not because he deliberately wanted to hide anything.

       Although Shen Liu seemed approachable, deep down, he carried an arrogance that looked down on the world. He was like a lion lazily basking on a rock, indifferent to the herbivores frolicking before him, baring his fangs and only revealing his wild dominance when provoked. A man like that did not care about the opinions of others.

       Qin Mu knew that Shen Liu’s discretion was to protect him.

       The broader society was still not tolerant enough toward homosexuality. Many people, at the mere mention of it, would blurt out the word ‘disgusting’. Even in the relatively open environment of a university campus, hostility toward homosexuals was not uncommon. Shen Liu was unafraid of these things, but he feared Qin Mu might be affected. He knew the hardships Qin Mu had suffered, the pain he had endured, and how difficult his journey had been. He did not want Qin Mu to once again face cold stares, reproach, or silent hurt. So he used a hard shell to wrap Qin Mu securely, allowing him to dwell peacefully in a safe and fitting little world, much like a snail.

       Qin Mu, in turn, loved Shen Liu with unwavering devotion. He was ready to put on a suit and go before God himself to vow never to part for the rest of his life. But sometimes he deliberately restrained his feelings, not wanting Shen Liu to feel pressure or burden. Everyone, when facing the one they loved, would be anxious and uncertain. All the more so since Qin Mu’s nature still carried the inferiority planted in his childhood. Even though he tried to restrain and adjust himself, he could not help but imagine what would happen if one day Shen Liu no longer loved him.

       He believed in the freedom of love and did not wish to shackle their relationship with chains. However, he did not know if he could let go with grace and offer blessings when the time truly came to part. After all, that was far too difficult.

       But Qin Mu’s worry never came to pass. Shen Liu, hand in hand with him, withstood the test of time. Their love, like wine buried beneath a tree, grew ever more pure and mellow. They had fallen into the habit of caring for one another, looking after each other. Sometimes, without a word, just a glance could make the other understand completely. Feiyan jokingly said the two of them had ‘already stepped into the old married couple stage ahead of time’. Between the two ‘old husbands’ there were still many little intimacies that could not be spoken of, weaving everyday life into something tender, romantic, and poetic.

       In the blink of an eye, Shen Liu reached his senior year, arriving at another crossroads in life. After much thought, he decided to stay on and be directly admitted into K University’s graduate program. When Qin Mu heard the news, he was overjoyed. That night, he wrapped himself around Shen Liu, chattering on and on about their future, until he was thoroughly worn out twice before finally falling asleep, exhausted.

       Just as this little boat of love was cutting through the waves toward hope, a strange current drifted in with the wind.

       That year, during the Spring Festival, Shen Liu went home, only returning just before the new semester began. After that, the phone calls started to increase. Qin Mu noticed that sometimes he would deliberately avoid him when answering. Once, when Qin Mu went to collect the laundry, he overheard Shen Liu on the balcony, clutching his phone and arguing with someone. His tone was so cold and hard that it was frightening. Qin Mu worried that he had encountered a complicated matter, but Shen Liu deflected the topic with just a few words.

       Qin Mu trusted him completely. He thought that since Shen Liu said nothing, it meant he was capable of handling it properly, and he should not dig deeper. Yet after being together for so long, they could read the subtlest changes in each other’s emotions. Qin Mu sensed the anxiety that Shen Liu was straining to suppress. He tried to gently confide to his lover that no matter what happened, he was willing to shoulder it with him, but Shen Liu still said nothing.

       Not only that, he even disappeared.

       That evening, the two had agreed to meet at the library. Shen Liu never came, and when Qin Mu called, his phone was switched off. The longer he waited, the more panicked he became. He hurried back home, only to find the room empty.

       Shen Liu did not come back that night, and Qin Mu did not sleep a wink. Through the registration number on Shen Liu’s student record, he managed to contact his family, but the person on the other end said coldly that Shen Liu had gone home. Not only that, he was not feeling well and could not take calls before hanging up. Within two days, news came from the academic office: Shen Liu had requested a month of medical leave. The whole situation was far too strange. Qin Mu did not know why he had left without a word. On the one hand, he reassured himself that if Shen Liu was home then he must be safe; on the other hand, he worried whether he had truly fallen seriously ill. He even had the thought of flying to J City to look for him, only to discover that the address in the student record—’No. 512 Wang Hai Road, Wushan District, J City’—did not exist at all.

       And just like that, Shen Liu disappeared from Qin Mu’s world.

       During that period, Qin Mu was like a soul lost. He was plagued by nightmares, consumed by worry, unable to sleep at night, counting the days like a child waiting for the New Year. But when the sick leave expired, he still had not returned. He called that number again, but no matter how many times, it never connected.

       The bottomless waiting hollowed Qin Mu out. In a month and a half, he lost ten pounds. He felt as if he had been cast into a barren wilderness, surrounded by desolation on all sides, with no way out and no hope in sight.

       Just as he was on the verge of breaking, that person finally came back.

       On a rainy afternoon, Qin Mu forced himself to sit for an exam. After leaving the hall, when he turned on his phone, he saw a text notification of a missed call from an unfamiliar number. He called back and heard a long-lost voice.

       “Log.”

       Qin Mu froze, suspecting he was hallucinating. Cautiously, he asked, “Shen Liu?”

       The other gave a quiet hum.

       Qin Mu’s hand gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. He was trembling, his breath uneven. “Where are you? How are you? You…” His vision blurred, and scalding tears welled up, spilling down his cheeks.

       “I’m at the south gate.” Perhaps the signal was poor, because Shen Liu’s voice faded in and out.

       “Don’t hang up!” Qin Mu said urgently. He broke into a run toward the south, nearly crashing into people along the way. When he burst through the south gate of the campus, his heart pounded as if it would leap out of his chest. He looked around frantically, panting, and asked, “Where are you?”

       “To your right.”

       Qin Mu turned his head and saw a black unlicensed car that ferried passengers slowly lower its rear window. From within emerged the face he had longed for day and night. Shen Liu looked somewhat haggard, with messy stubble on his chin. He spoke: “Get in, we’ll talk inside.”

       Opening the back door, Qin Mu immediately noticed the glaringly obvious cast on his right leg. Shocked and distressed, he asked, “What happened to your leg?”

       “It’s nothing.” Shen Liu patted the seat, signalling him to sit, then raised his hand to touch Qin Mu’s gaunt cheek. He asked softly, “You haven’t been eating properly, have you?”

       Qin Mu could not hold back any longer. He seized his hand, eyes reddened, and asked, “What on earth happened? What did you run into? No matter what it is, you can tell me. I am… the closest person to you.”

       Shen Liu gazed at him, his eyes gentle yet profound, like a sea drenched in moonlight. Qin Mu sensed the emotions hidden within—too complex, too intense, impossible to untangle, like a volcanic eruption in the deep ocean, mountain-shaking and earth-splitting, yet known to no one. Just as Qin Mu tried to discern it, he heard him speak.

       “Log, let’s run away together. Leave everything behind, just go with me.”

       Shen Liu’s words were soft and slow, like smoke that would scatter with the faintest breeze.

       Qin Mu was stunned. For a moment, the sudden shock and confusion in his eyes gradually faded, like a lake revealed after the mist had lifted, showing its clear essence.

       He understood.

       This was, in fact, a question.

       Academics, life, friends, family, their little apartment… I am going to abandon it all, to go to the ends of the earth, to places unknown. Will you go with me?

       “Yes.”

       He took less than a minute to make a decision that would affect the rest of his life.

       Hearing this answer, Shen Liu’s gaze trembled, the corners of his eyes tinged with a restrained redness. He pulled his lips into a faint smile, carrying both the comfort of long-held certainty and an unspoken sorrow.

       “Driver, take us to the bus terminal,” he said to the driver.

       Qin Mu understood Shen Liu. He was a man of meticulous thought, thorough and careful in all things, always leaving room in his dealings with others, seldom taking reckless risks. When confronted with problems, he dared to take responsibility, never shirking, and his mind was always full of solutions. Even with the enemy at the gates, he could dig out a way to live from layers of encirclement. He would not have come to this step unless he had been driven into a dead end.

       “Let’s run away together” was his final choice.

       At such a time, even if what lay ahead was a bottomless abyss, Qin Mu still wanted to stand at his side.

       Qin Mu felt that his life was like a tree. Before meeting Shen Liu, he had grown muddle-headed and aimless, trimmed and cut at others’ will, battered by storm and gale. It was this man who had saved him from the mire, who had protected him with care, shielding him from the wind and rain, who had given him the courage to face both past and future, who had taught him how to love and be loved. The name ‘Shen Liu’ had long been carved stroke by stroke into his heart, fused into his very bones and blood. He could leave everything behind and go with him, without asking for a reason.

       As long as they were together, nothing else mattered.

       When they boarded the long-distance bus, Qin Mu asked, “Does this count as a spur-of-the-moment trip?”

       Shen Liu smiled, turned his head over to rest against his own shoulder, and said, “Sleep. Get a proper rest.”

       They rode the bus for two days and one night, and stopped in a small town.

       The town had been built along a river, and the scenery was beautiful.

       Shen Liu had no money on him, and Qin Mu had only a little more than five hundred yuan left from his work-study savings. They found a small inn to settle in temporarily. After taking a good hot shower and resting for a night, they began planning the days ahead. Sixty yuan a day for the inn was too expensive—they had to find another place to live. Fortunately, the inn’s landlady was kind-hearted. When she heard that they wanted to rent a place, she cleared out the attic above her own small building and rented it to them for three hundred and fifty a month.

       Since Shen Liu was inconvenienced by his leg, Qin Mu cleaned up the place, then went to a small supermarket to buy necessities like toothbrushes and cups. When he came back, Shen Liu looked at the bedspread with dragons and phoenixes embroidered in celebration and burst into laughter. “So festive.”

       Qin Mu’s ears turned red, and he muttered in embarrassment, “This one was cheaper.”

       Shen Liu nodded in agreement. “It looks good. It has a beauty unique to traditional Chinese culture, making you want to do something on it.”

       Qin Mu sneered, “You’d better focus on healing your leg first.”

       “How can you discriminate against the disabled?” Shen Liu patted the spot beside him. “Stop fussing, Little Log, come sit with your gege for a while.”

       Qin Mu kicked his uninjured foot lightly. “If you won’t help, fine, but don’t drag me down.” Though his words were sharp, he still poured him a glass of water before sitting down.

       The wind drifted in from the river. Shen Liu held him close, leaned back against the window, and looked up at the drifting clouds in the sky. Like a big cat, he narrowed his eyes and sighed, “The weather is so nice.”

---

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       Qin Mu’s heart trembled.

       In the past, Shen Liu had called him this way when he was aroused. It was like a bewitching spell that drove one to madness, constantly stirring an irrepressible fervour within him.

       Time had fled with memories, yet the curse that person left on his body lingered, and his body responded with the most honest reaction. Qin Mu’s breathing grew increasingly erratic. Sweat trickled down his heaving chest, and his c0ck, which had softened during the invasion, was now erect again.

       “Why are you clenching so tightly? Eager for me to feed you?” Shen Liu’s low voice carried a triumphant smile.

       Qin Mu’s ears were sensitive, and the warm breath grazing his earlobe instantly sent shivers across his skin. Yet, the man intensified the sensation. He teasingly nibbled at his earlobe with his tongue. The tingling and itching feeling scurried like a startled mouse down his entire spine, and Qin Mu, unable to bear it, turned his face slightly to evade. In the next moment, the beast that had lain dormant within him roared and crashed fiercely. The pleasure of his gland being squeezed forced a low and involuntary cry from his lips.

       “You’ve forgotten what I just taught you so quickly,” Shen Liu said, biting down hard on Qin Mu’s neck in punishment. He then buried his head to kiss a trail along his body like a beast claiming its territory, leaving ambiguous marks that belonged solely to him. He paused just before touching Qin Mu’s lips, the lust swirling in his eyes like a ravenous glutton, eagerly roaring, as if ready to break free from its shackles and pounce upon the person before him in one gulp.

       Before Qin Mu, whose vision had been taken away, Shen Liu finally shed his pretence, restraint, and disguise, revealing his most genuine longing. He gazed boldly and obsessively, his fingertips repeatedly tracing the soft lips, and said in a hoarse voice, “You are mine.”

       It was as if he spoke to the other person, yet also to himself. Before Qin Mu could respond, the beast buried between his thighs could no longer restrain its ferocity. It withdrew, invaded, thrust, and collided repeatedly. The crude and primal rhythm followed the human instinct to chase desire.

       It was not enough, far from enough.

       He wanted everything from the person before him, from the inside out, from body to heart. At that moment, Shen Liu was controlled by a frenzied possessiveness, abandoning all technique and restraint, letting himself sink into the sea of ultimate pleasure.

       Pride was a sin. It trapped one in a self-drawn prison, blinding the eyes with empty resolve, forgetting the true heart.

       Greed was a sin. It drove one to demand the unattainable, pushing them into an abyss of possessive desire, yearning yet never obtaining.

       Lust was a sin. It stripped away reason, ensnaring one in the ecstasy of carnal pleasure and entwining them together.

       Yet even with the weight of such sins and punishments, he still wanted him.

       Knowing it was forbidden, improper, impossible, he insisted on pursuing it.

       Even if only for one night.

       The person he had once lost was right before his eyes, like a bright and tempting fruit hanging high in the Garden of Eden, enchanting him, making him unable to resist, willingly plunging into hell for a single bite.

       Qin Mu was the cause and effect of his fate, the sin he bore, the demon he could not escape.

       He accepted it.

       This obsession was buried too deep, held on for too long. Once the ashes reignited, they blazed into a towering inferno.

       His heart pounded as if it would burst, his chest burning. Shen Liu hooked Qin Mu’s legs into the crook of his arms, relentlessly ravaging the tight passage, each thrust heavier and deeper than the last, as if to meld their bodies into one.

       Qin Mu was so shaken by this brutal assault that his soul seemed to scatter. Pain and pleasure, like spilt paint cans, blended into a vibrant chaos amidst the darkness. Overwhelming ecstasy flashed like lightning through every inch of his flesh and bone, his body trembling, his breath quivering. The moans he struggled to suppress spilt from his gasps, the restrained throat sounds carrying a unique, ascetic undertone, making them all the more alluring in the tangled tide of passion, driving the intruder nearly mad.

       Their skin touched, their lower bodies were connected, and they were both very hot. It was hard to tell who ignited whose desire, and who satisfied whose needs.

       Shen Liu thrust deeply into him again, whispering in his ear, “Is it better with the whip or with your legs spread? Do you like me taking you like this?”

       The usually cold and proud man was now swept into the vortex of desire by a tempest, flushed and disarmed. “…I like it.”

       Shen Liu refused to let him off, teasing as he moved in and out, “No sincerity. Say something I want to hear.”

       Qin Mu tightly pursed his lips, refusing to speak. However, unable to withstand the deliberate torment, he arched his neck and let out a moan tinged with a sob. Shen Liu knew Qin Mu’s endurance in such matters and slowed down, removing the obstructive blindfold and kissing his damp eyes.

       Qin Mu leaned against the wall, dazed, his eyes rimmed red, lashes wet with fine tears. At that moment, he was a mess. His legs were spread wide, his lascivious rear still filled, his engorged member tightly bound at the base. He resembled an angel in a painting, defiled by a demon and tainted with impure desire.

       “Want it released?” Shen Liu teased, stroking Qin Mu’s member. “Beg me.” It was both a temptation and a coaxing.

       Awkwardly, Qin Mu averted his gaze and said with difficulty, “Please… Let me cum…”

       “Look at me and say it again,” Shen Liu demanded, his touch growing firmer.

       Qin Mu’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and he pleaded, “Please, let me cum…”

       Shen Liu, like a forest spirit emerging from the mist to steal souls, whispered seductively, “Say you belong to me.”

       Qin Mu, unable to endure further, lowered his lashes in submission and complied, “…I belong to you, Master.”

       Yet the man greedily pressed further. “Say you love me.”

       At those words, Qin Mu’s gaze flickered, his lips tightly sealed. Shen Liu grazed the tip of his member playfully, narrowing his eyes in warning. “Disobedience won’t feel good.”

       Qin Mu’s chest heaved violently, his eyes growing redder. He closed them in despair, then, like a martyr facing sacrifice. He leaned forward and brushed a fleeting kiss on Shen Liu’s lips.

       Was that an answer?

       The man paused, then laughed, delivering a sharp slap to Qin Mu’s buttocks. “So naughty, should I spank you?” He unlocked the handcuffs, scooped him up by the waist, and tossed him onto the large bed. He immediately pressed himself over him, kissing him deeply while releasing the chastity ring.

       “Don’t cum until I allow it.”

       Before the command fully registered, their lips and tongues entwined again. As Shen Liu invaded his mouth, he claimed his back hole once more. He thrust powerfully, slicing through the soft, wet passage like a blade. This time, instead of going deep, he quickened the pace with shallow thrusts.

       This method intensified the pressure on the gland, sending pleasure bursting like fireworks in the mind. Qin Mu’s body surrendered completely, whimpering amidst the tangle of lips and saliva, his body tensing, toes curling, unable to hold back as he cum. The passage tightened with climax, sucking the intruding shaft like an eager mouth, driving Shen Liu to the edge until he, too, cum with a low groan.

       In the moment, their overwhelming desire was sated. All barriers and grudges vanished as their souls and bodies communed, sensing true affection.

       The afterglow of climax washed over their entwined bodies like waves on a shore, receding layer by layer. Neither moved, nor did either break the silence first. They both knew in their hearts that this reckless night of unspoken understanding would not happen again. The carnal indulgence borrowed from a game, the veiled confessions, the unguarded truths—all would vanish in the dawn’s first light. When their naked bodies donned clothes again, they would also don their roles, status, and distance. Like stars returning to their places, the constellations shifting, this fiery liquor of passion would simmer into tasteless water, used to brew two cups of tea called gentlemanly acquaintance.

       To meet you is joy, yet I can only blame the moon and stars.

       Through this long, absurd night, whose heart will be stirred?

       The room was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the bedside clock. Qin Mu’s legs felt numb, and he shifted slightly. Shen Liu’s hand grazed his lower back. “Want more?”

       Qin Mu’s expression stiffened, his face wooden as he replied, “You still up for it?”

       Shen Liu tossed the condom into the trash, sat on the bed’s edge with legs spread, and grinned. “Serving the people, how could I not be?”

       Qin Mu sat up, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “At your age, better watch your health.” He moved to get a cigarette, but the earlier exertion left his legs weak, and he stumbled back onto the bed.

       Shen Liu laughed, retorting, “You’re not young either. Watch yourself.”

       Qin Mu’s ears reddened.

       “What do you want?” the man asked.

       “Cigarette.”

       Shen Liu fetched one from Qin Mu’s pocket on the coat rack, lit it between his own lips, and passed it over. “Just one. Too many’s bad for you. At our age, we need to cherish life.”

       The age jab lingered.

       Qin Mu ignored him, took a drag, and mused that cigarettes really do feel good after sex.

       “Shower together?” Shen Liu invited enthusiastically.

       Qin Mu glimpsed the sticky mess on his abdomen and turned away. “You first.”

       “Okay.” Shen Liu smiled and went into the bathroom.

       Qin Mu leaned against the headboard, smoking. His desire-clouded mind now asserting itself in the clarity of post-coital reflection, belatedly pondering deeply.

       What now, after this?

       Where should he place this man?

       What was Shen Liu thinking?

       How would he handle this case?

       The cigarette burned to its end, and no answers came. He considered lighting another but stopped, recalling Shen Liu’s words. With a helpless sigh, he stared at the bedside lamp.

       Moments later, his attention shifted to the small clock nearby.

       Many Doms placed timers or ticking clocks in playrooms, partly to count during punishments, partly to track time. This was an old brass clock.

       Qin Mu recognised it; it was one they had used.

       In Tingyun Town.

---

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       When the warm softness touched his lips, Qin Mu’s mind went blank for an instant.

       In that moment, his heart forgot to beat, his breath lost its rhythm, and even his hearing was lost.

       The world turned into a quiet and pure black space, with countless white birds surging toward him, piercing through his body like arrows.

       They were fragments of memory.

       Memories of Shen Liu that he had buried with his own hands—

       The awkward and hesitant wine-laced kiss.

       The joyful kiss in the library under the setting sun.

       The brief, tense kiss beneath the basketball hoop.

       The lingering, passionate kiss during a long night’s embrace.

       The bitter, anguished kiss of farewell.

       …

       The long-lost sensation stirred the past, and countless similar moments overlapped. It whistled through his limbs like a gale, so fierce that his soul trembled uncontrollably. A complex and indescribable surge of emotions erupted, and the unfamiliar loss of control filled Qin Mu with panic. His body reacted instinctively.

       Qin Mu turned his face away.

       Reason returned belatedly, and when he realised what he had done, his body stiffened.

       As the submissive in this game, such an action was tantamount to courting disaster. Unable to see Shen Liu’s expression, the hesitant ‘Master’ he uttered, revealing a trace of unease and even a hint of weakness.

       Shen Liu laughed with a dangerous edge in his tone.

       At that moment, Qin Mu was blindfolded and securely bound. He felt like a lone herbivore on the savanna, unaware of the predator lurking in the tall grass. He was surrounded by unseen threats, and his body tensed with apprehension. He scrambled to make amends, admitting fault, “I was wrong, Master.”

       “This is the first time I have met a slave who refuses to be kissed by his master,” Shen Liu drawled, his voice deliberately slow. “It seems Mr. Pharaoh is used to wielding the whip and has forgotten how to be a slave. I don’t mind revisiting basic training, but unfortunately, time is short tonight, so we’ll have to speed things up a bit.” He paced the room, selecting props while musing, “A simple punishment is too dull. Let’s make it educational and entertaining, shall we?”

       Qin Mu sighed helplessly in his heart. His earlier action had already provoked this Dom, and any misstep now would only worsen things. He could only respond with the standard reply, “Everything is decided by Master.”

       Shen Liu, laden with props, placed them on the side table and began, “The rules are simple: guess the prop in my hand. Three chances per item, five seconds each. Guess correctly, and you pass. Guess wrong, and it gets used on you, in a way I choose.”

       “Master expects me to guess blindly from a distance?”

       Shen Liu’s lips curled into a smile. “I’ll give you a chance to touch it. Any other questions?”

       “None, Master.”

       “Then let’s begin. First item.”

       Qin Mu waited attentively. Soon, a faint coolness touched his chest, something hard sliding slowly from the centre of his chest down past his abdomen. It stopped at his c0ck, teasing it carelessly.

       “A friendly reminder. No answer within five seconds counts as a forfeit. Your first chance is gone,” Shen Liu said leisurely.

       Qin Mu blurted out in shock, “You said I could touch…” He stopped mid-sentence, realising that he had been tricked and swallowed the second half of the sentence.

       “I said I would let you touch it with your body. As for which part, that’s my choice,” Shen Liu said with a carefree laugh, scraping the object repeatedly against the tip of Qin Mu’s c0ck, unhurriedly adding, “This should be the most sensitive part of your body. Still can’t guess?”

       How could anyone guess this? Qin Mu gritted his teeth. The sensation of his sensitive tip being rubbed made him take two deep breaths, and he threw out a desperate guess, “Riding crop.”

       “Wrong. Keep going.” The cool and hard object moved back, pressing harder against his balls, as Shen Liu counted down leisurely, “Five, four…”

       “…Hand paddle,” Qin Mu squeezed out at the last second through gritted teeth.

       “Wrong. Such a pity,” Shen Liu said, his regret insincere.

       The words had barely landed when a sharp crack rang out. The strike was swift and precise, landing on the tender flesh inside his right thigh, igniting a stinging, fiery pain. Qin Mu couldn’t help but let out a muffled groan, instinctively trying to close his legs, but the bindings held firm, straining his joints with a dull ache.

       “Now do you know what it is?” Shen Liu asked.

       “…Wide ruler,” Qin Mu said, enduring the pain, roughly deducing the material from the strike’s feel and size.

       “Looks like you only learn through personal experience,” the man said with a chuckle, tossing the ruler aside and picking up another item.

       Qin Mu braced himself. However, the faint touch on his chest lasted only a moment before vanishing, as if it felt soft.

       “Rope?” He couldn’t be sure.

       “Guess again.”

       “…Soft whip.”

       “One last chance.” Shen Liu used the item to tease his nipple, alternating between light and heavy touches, switching to the other side once one began to harden.

       Qin Mu’s body subtly reacted to the teasing and shrank back uncomfortably.

       “Did I permit you to move?” The man’s warning came with a punishment, a sharp pain on his chest, making Qin Mu groan.

       “Give me your answer.”

       Recalling the faint metallic texture, Qin Mu guessed uncertainly, “Chain.”

       Shen Liu tsked, feigning regret. “Such an obvious hint, and you still couldn’t guess. How disappointing.”

       Then both sides of Qin Mu’s chest stung as the item clamped onto his erect nipples like a small mouth with iron teeth. Tiny electric currents slithered out, causing a mix of pain and numbness. He gasped deeply and gripped the steel frame tightly to maintain his posture.

       It turned out to be a pair of electric nipple clamps connected by a thin chain. The so-called hint was just Shen Liu toying with his chest?

       This guy never intended for him to guess right. Qin Mu gave a wry smile.

       “Next one.” Shen Liu was enjoying himself, showing no sign of stopping. After multiple wrong guesses, Qin Mu’s body was covered in mottled marks. Bound and tormented for so long, his stamina waned. He leaned against the wall and panted lightly.

       Shen Liu fastened a c0ck ring—one of the items Qin Mu failed to guess—around the base of his c0ck, mocking, “Mr. Pharaoh, a Dom for so long, yet you can’t distinguish these basic props. Not very competent, are you?” His gaze swept over Qin Mu’s trembling left leg, then he picked up a vibrating di-do and pressed it to Qin Mu’s lips. “One last chance.”

       The silicone texture was easy to recognise. Qin Mu opened his mouth to answer, but the di-do was thrust into his mouth. The next second, his jaw was gripped, Shen Liu forcing him to keep the di-do in. It went too deep, pressing against the back of his tongue, triggering a gag reflex. Qin Mu struggled, the handcuffs clanging against the steel bar.

       Shen Liu eased the di-do out slightly, asking, “Guessed it?”

       With the object in his mouth, Qin Mu could only make muffled throat sounds.

       “Know it but can’t say it… Frustrating, isn’t it?” Shen Liu asked knowingly. He tilted Qin Mu’s face up to expose the elegant line of his neck. His thumb slowly pressed against Qin Mu’s Adam’s apple, forcing him to swallow repeatedly. “Slave, in this game, I am the rules. You must accept everything I give, and everything of yours belongs to me. Understood?”

       The throat was a vulnerable and fatal point. Such an act signified complete control and dominance. Unable to speak, Qin Mu could only nod with difficulty.

       The di-do was withdrawn, and the grip on his jaw released. Qin Mu coughed dryly, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. As he recovered, he felt the saliva-slick di-do now pressing against his secret entrance, circling slowly before resting at his rear hole.

       “Want it?” Shen Liu asked.

       Qin Mu’s body tensed, his voice hoarse. “A slave’s body belongs to Master. I want everything Master gives me.”

       “Very good.” Shen Liu’s lips curved. He applied some lubricant to the medium-sized vibrating di-do. With slight force, the tip began to part his anal opening, inching inside.

       The sensation of his private place being invaded made Qin Mu’s teeth ache, his sphincter instinctively tightening in resistance.

       Shen Liu frowned. “Relax.”

       Qin Mu panted and tried to adjust, but for some reason, he felt so tense and inexperienced. He was unable to relax, no matter how he tried. In a panic, he called out, “Master…”

       Forcing entry in this state could injure him. Shen Liu slapped his thigh as a reprimand. “Can’t even handle expansion properly.”

       “I was wrong, Master.” Qin Mu barely relaxed when he tensed again. Something was pressing against that poor little opening once more.

       This time, it was fingers.

       Shen Liu’s movements were almost gentle, patiently slowing the pace.

       His passage was stretched, the lubricant squelching with embarrassing sticky sounds as it was stirred. Qin Mu’s breathing became erratic. His ears flushed red and his hands gripped the steel bars tightly, trembling as he barely held himself upright.

       “Feel good?” Shen Liu deliberately stoked his desire, his fingers mimicking thrusting motions inside, expertly pressing against that hidden sensitive spot. Qin Mu shuddered as if electrified, arching his neck and gasping heavily, like a fish desperate for water. Under such teasing, his c0ck gradually hardened. His tip rising, engorged with blood, making the c0ck ring at the base bite tighter, a beautiful yet cruel shackle.

       Shen Liu’s gaze darkened, and countless desires flickered in his eyes.

       Qin Mu’s back hole was breached, and his front was on the verge of falling. The man’s fingertips scr4p3d repeatedly at his sensitive tip, like some ancient sorcery, manipulating a snake of pain, itch, and irresistible pleasure slithering through his body. Qin Mu groaned. He tightly closed his lips to stifle the moans threatening to escape, and physiological tears swere oaking the blindfold.

       “Do your subs know their master makes these expressions?” Shen Liu’s low and husky voice whispered in his ear, sensual and provocative. “Ah, the ascetic Mr. Pharaoh, kneeling before another with legs spread wide, calling out ‘Master’ as his little hole below, clinging tightly to the fingers inside. So proper on the surface, but starving with need, just a couple of pokes and you’re so pleasured you’re about to cry.” His words were deliberately provocative, each one light as a feather. “You look beautiful right now. Should we take a picture to show them?”

       Qin Mu’s right leg was numb, his left leg barely holding up under the relentless teasing. These words fanned the flames of shame, a flush spreading across his body, forcing him to yield. “Please…”

       “Now that expression is much more pleasing,” Shen Liu said with a low chuckle. He withdrew his fingers and peeled off the lubricant-slick medical gloves. He quickly unbound Qin Mu’s right leg, catching the unsteady man around the waist and saying in a deep voice, “Foreplay’s over.”

       Before Qin Mu could process the meaning of those words in his dazed state, his back was pressed against the wall, and his hips lifted forcefully. A powerful body pinned him from the front, forcing his legs open again. In that narrow space, a hard, scorching c0ck aligned with his soft entrance and thrust in roughly. Qin Mu gasped, letting out a suppressed moan, his body arching sharply and the handcuffs clanging loudly.

       The tip of Shen Liu’s c0ck was enveloped in the wet and soft cavity. The sensation so intense that Shen Liu had to take two deep breaths to steady himself. He fought to suppress his near-exploding desire, teasing Qin Mu’s chest and softened c0ck repeatedly, his voice hoarse. “Relax, let me in.”

       It had been a long time since Qin Mu had experienced such intimacy. Sweat beaded on his forehead and back, the blindfold soaked through, his voice trembling as he pleaded, “Slower… Please, Master…”

       Shen Liu’s heart raced faster, but he restrained his urge. He controlled the rhythm and eased his grip slightly, letting Qin Mu’s weight slowly open the narrow passage. His size was considerable, and even with thorough preparation, the process was still somewhat difficult.

       It was torturous for both. Qin Mu clenched his teeth, his body rigid as he struggled to adjust to the intrusion, like a helpless animal caught by a predator’s jaws with nowhere to flee. When the entire c0ck was buried in that warm and intoxicating passage, Shen Liu kissed his hot ears from the side of his face and whispered softly, “Good boy.”

---

T/N:
That’s it for now ><
I planned to finish the whole series by the end of this year at the latest. So don’t worry if I seem to disappear for a while… I will be back and post as much as I can before going MIA again~
Special shoutout for Desuma, who keeps encouraging me and letting me know how much you enjoyed the series 🙂
Rest assured, I will not abandon this project ദ്ദി *´꒳`*)

---

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       A smile rose on Shen Liu’s face as he turned slightly to the side, raising his hand in an elegant gesture of invitation.

       Qin Mu stepped upstairs. Shen Liu turned his head and glanced at Tao Ze. The house steward caught on instantly and within three minutes had cleared the main building of all irrelevant personnel including himself.

       The two of them entered the bedroom, one after the other. Qin Mu asked, “What do you want me to do?”

       “In such a hurry?” Shen Liu teased. He took off his coat and pulled out his phone to tap on it a few times.

       The massive wall-mounted painting began to move silently, revealing a hidden black door embedded behind it.

       “You never noticed while living here?” Shen Liu asked.

       Qin Mu shook his head.

       The man chuckled, a trace of boyish pride showing on his face. The fingerprint lock responded with a soft click, and he stood by the door, tilting his head to glance back.

       He was waiting.

       He neither urged nor persuaded, carrying an air of laying a trap with a baited smile.

       Qin Mu knew he should walk over with a natural, relaxed, and indifferent attitude. This was a deal he had agreed to, and there was no reason to back out now. But ever since that word ‘Deal’ had left his mouth, the crashing waves in his mind had refused to settle. They howled, clamouring and interrogating him from all directions—

       Do you even know what you just agreed to?

       He’s blackmailing you, do you realise that?

       Weren’t you the one who decided to draw the line with him?

       That relationship ended a long time ago. How can you let this happen now?

       Are you really going to let him get involved?

       What exactly is this between you two?

       …

       At that moment, he felt like a restless sea with currents surging chaotically beneath the surface and shoals of fish scattering in panic. Yet he had to hide it all away, maintaining the illusion of calm waters.

       Shen Liu had placed his chess piece in a way that left him no good move, and he had no choice but to make what seemed like the best decision under the circumstances.

       Because there was no way out.

       Because he was desperate for revenge.

       Because he had no choice.

       But he knew deep down that these reasons that could be laid out on the table were far too flimsy to stand up to real scrutiny. They weren’t enough to justify crossing this line and agreeing to such a ridiculous transaction.

       The real reason was simply… the man in front of him.

       The one he had quietly held in his heart for so many years, someone whose name he hadn’t even dared to utter. After all these years apart, that person could still pull at his heartstrings, shatter his defences, and command his complete trust.

       Qin Mu had struggled to convince himself that this was just a transaction. But now, with the door right in front of him, he suddenly felt afraid. He felt like a rookie soldier stepping onto the battlefield for the first time, instinctively wanting to retreat at the last moment. The urge was so overwhelming that he even entertained the idea of tearing off his pride and breaking the deal right then and there.

       But he couldn’t retreat.

       At least not at this moment.

       Shen Liu had named it a one-night stand. Since he dared to say it, Qin Mu had to be willing to play along.

       Qin Mu silently took a deep breath and stepped toward the door, his stride appearing calm and steady. As he passed by Shen Liu, the man suddenly said, “I gave you a chance to back out.”

       Qin Mu lifted his gaze to meet his eyes and replied evenly, “Why would I regret it?”

       The smile in Shen Liu’s eyes deepened. He released the door, and it shut swiftly behind them.

       A room bathed in soft, gentle lighting unfolded before them, illuminating another world entirely.

       Qin Mu had already guessed what this place was before stepping inside, but seeing it with his own eyes still left him a little stunned.

       It was a training room. The main area was much larger than the private one he used at the East Coast Club. With the addition of an ensuite bathroom, a walk-in closet, and an outrageously showy glass cantilevered pool extending outward, the overall space was likely even larger than Chu Yu and Xu Ye’s private playhouse.

       Shen Liu turned up the air conditioning and handed him a glass of water. With polite composure, he offered, “Care to look around?”

       Qin Mu’s gaze swept over the cabinet lined with various types of sex toys, brushing past the wall-mounted whips hanging in uniform precision. He paused briefly on the steel-framed four-poster bed and returned to Shen Liu’s face. He asked, “Which role do you need me to play?”

       “What do you think?” Shen Liu countered.

       “Compared to being a sub, I’d probably give you more satisfaction as a Dom. But I’ll need a little time to familiarise myself with the space and the tools,” Qin Mu said seriously. “Of course, it’s just a suggestion. The final say is yours.”

       Shen Liu let out a short laugh. “I’m guessing it’s been a while since Pharaoh has been a sub. How about taking the chance to relive it properly today?” He remotely lowered the floor-to-ceiling curtains, put on some soft music, and asked unhurriedly, “Any commands you won’t accept?”

       Qin Mu was silent for a moment, then said, “None.”

       That answer genuinely surprised Shen Liu. He had expected Qin Mu to list a string of ‘don’ts’ that would restrict the entire scene to a very narrow scope. He had even prepared to pick apart wording and look for loopholes. Who would have thought the other party would be this straightforward? It almost made him feel like he had been petty.

       “You trust me that much?” Shen Liu looked at him with interest. “Same safe word as before, or do you want to change it?”

       “The same.”

       “Alright.” He nodded toward the bathroom. “Go clean yourself up. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

       Qin Mu turned and went in without another word.

       Fifteen minutes was more than enough for a shower, but to get completely clean ‘inside and out’ was cutting it close.

       He bypassed the built-in jacuzzi large enough for three or four people and quickly surveyed the bathroom layout. The sink area was separated into dry and wet zones. The inner section held an enema kit, a cleansing spray head, and a wall-mounted leather leg-spreader chair. The outer glass cabinet displayed an overwhelming array of bottles, all sorted by function and colour. Qin Mu was no novice, and he knew what needed to be done. But it had been so long since he last did it himself that it took a bit of effort.

       By the time he had swiftly completed the cleaning process and put on the bathrobe to step out, the digital clock on the wall had already passed the time limit.

       The room was warm. Shen Liu had taken off his knit sweater, rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and left the front buttons open. His toned muscles shifted faintly through the gaps as he moved. He tapped the riding crop lightly on the floor and said, “Take off your clothes. Come here.”

       Qin Mu complied without resistance. He hung the robe on the tree-shaped coat rack and walked over completely nude, kneeling down in front of Shen Liu.

       It was a textbook kneeling posture—spine straight, abdomen tight, hands behind his back, knees spread shoulder-width apart—flawless in every detail. He lifted his face to look at the man in front of him, his gaze calm and focused behind his glasses. Even though he knelt naked at someone’s feet, the atmosphere carried the solemnity of a formal meeting. It was utterly devoid of lust.

       A silent smirk curved Shen Liu’s lips. The tip of the riding crop brushed upward from Qin Mu’s chest, slid along his throat, and came to rest under his chin, lifting it slightly. From above, Shen Liu said,

       “Tell me who you are.”

       It was a routine question, meant to help both parties drop into their roles more easily.

       “I am your slave,” Qin Mu replied calmly.

       “Tell me your rights.”

       “To surrender everything to you is my only right.”

       “Tell me your duty.”

       “To obey your commands is my entire duty.”

       “Very good.” Shen Liu tapped the side of his face lightly with the tip of the riding crop. “I gave you fifteen minutes earlier. How long did you exceed the time limit?”

       “Six minutes,” Qin Mu paused, then added, “I was wrong. Please punish me, Master.”

       The riding crop suddenly whipped upward and landed on his chest with a loud snap, striking directly on the nipple with precision. It was a heavy hit. Qin Mu’s muscles instantly tensed, and he clenched his teeth to steady himself.

       Red welts slowly bloomed on his skin. The rough leather at the end of the crop deliberately rubbed against the sensitive spot, now stinging with lingering pain, teasing him with varied pressure. Qin Mu couldn’t suppress a shiver.

       “Does it hurt?” Shen Liu asked.

       “As long as it pleases you, Master, your slave can endure anything.” Qin Mu sounded like a machine devoid of emotion. It was formulaic and perfunctory, yet flawless enough that there was nothing one could nitpick.

       ——I’m playing by your rules, but those rules don’t actually affect me. This is your arena, yet I’m not under your control.

       To a dom, this kind of situation was nothing short of provocation.

       Shen Liu stroked the riding crop in his hand and looked down at him from above.

       He really had changed.

       In his youth, Qin Mu had been shy when it came to sex, mostly letting Shen Liu take the lead. On the rare occasions they switched roles and Qin Mu acted as the Dom, he would easily get emotional. Just a few strokes and he would lose control. But over the years since their separation, time had silently erased all those vivid emotions, turning him into this cold and distant version of himself.

       Was this what they called abstinence?

       A shadowy and deep glint surged through Shen Liu’s eyes.

       Isn’t the true pleasure of the world found in breaking taboos?

       An angel fallen into hell, toppling authority from its throne, making the dominant submit, forcing the abstinent to indulge. The more forbidden it was, the more it ignited the arrogant desire for conquest in one’s bones and blood.

       And right now, his battlefield was right before him.

       Shen Liu tossed the crop aside and retrieved a blindfold from the cabinet.

       Qin Mu’s heart skipped a beat.

       “Do you like it, slave?” Shen Liu asked.

       Qin Mu lowered his gaze and replied, “I like it, Master.”

       “Very good.”

       His glasses were taken off, and black fabric blocked out all light, plunging the world into total darkness.

       In the absence of vision, the human body instinctively senses danger. For someone like Qin Mu, who had experienced certain traumas, this sense of insecurity intensified even more.

       Shen Liu noticed the tension in his body, reached out, and gently stroked his cheek. “I’m here.”

       “Yes, Master.” Qin Mu did his best to adjust his state of mind, forcing himself to relax.

       But the darkness wasn’t all Shen Liu gave him. A collar was fastened around his neck, and he was led to the wall.

       Shen Liu ordered him to stand against it, then fixed his arms to protruding steel bars—one on each side. The cold metal around his wrists made Qin Mu guess they were handcuffs. He stayed completely still, letting the man manipulate him without making a sound.

       “Lift your right leg.”

       That command made him hesitate for two seconds, but he complied. Soon, his right leg was bound to one of the bars in an outwardly spread position, this time using a soft restraint strap.

       In this posture, Qin Mu could only lean against the wall, balancing precariously on one foot, with his most private parts fully exposed to the other’s gaze.

       It was a humiliating position, yet he still showed no visible emotion.

       Shen Liu made further fine adjustments to the restraint, then teasingly stroked Qin Mu’s unresponsive genitals and said, “My slave doesn’t seem very interested today?”

       “I’m sorry, Master.” A dull and mechanical response.

       “That’s alright. Some things are more interesting when they are done slowly,” Shen Liu said with a soft chuckle. His hand slowly gliding up Qin Mu’s chest, where he had been whipped earlier, bit by bit, until it reached his jaw, which he grasped and tilted up to kiss him.

---

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       The law was a rule of positive order, the baseline of a public society, defining the boundaries of freedom. It was the sword and shield safeguarding fairness and justice, and also the scale that weighed on every person’s heart.

       When the warriors who upheld the dignity of the law abandoned their loyalty, when the impartial scales became laden with lust and profit, when those in high office stepped into the vortex of desire without a single thought… The black-and-white text became meaningless paper, the lofty courtroom became a bustling stage play, and fairness and justice became a tiny boat adrift in muddy waters, swaying and unsteady.

       Qin Mu felt as if someone had slammed a hammer hard into his chest. The wave of disappointment and anger that surged up his throat carried the metallic tang of blood. He watched as the once-indestructible city of belief within him collapsed with a thunderous crash, yet he could only stand helplessly among the ruins.

       Before, he had felt confident in seeking justice for Teacher Xiao, because he had believed that if he appealed through the judicial system step by step, there would eventually be a place where fairness and justice could be found. But now, it seemed that those seated high and presiding over judgments had long since become puppets, manipulated at will. What justice could there be left to speak of?

       Qin Mu clenched his fists, his eyes reddened.

       Also a man of law, Teacher Xiao had been viciously retaliated against and lost his life for helping the poor and helpless. Yet these beasts wearing human skin indulged in Zhao Jinchuan’s lawlessness just to satisfy their private desires, feasting on young flesh.

       Now, he understood why Shen Liu had brought him here. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed that these people could fall so far. After the raging fire of anger had scorched his heart, all that remained was a barren emptiness. He lowered his head as if all strength had been drained from him and leaned his back against the wall, sinking into a long silence.

       Shen Liu handed him a cup of hot tea. “Have some.”

       Qin Mu shook his head and took a cigarette out of his coat pocket, clamping it between his lips. The cigarette and lighter were ones he had casually asked Tao Ze for earlier that morning—Huanghelou¹Yellow Crane Tower 1916, premium tobacco.

       He glanced at the man beside him, inquiring.

       Shen Liu shrugged. “Go ahead.”

        Qin Mu lit up and took a deep drag. The smell of tobacco quietly spread through the room.

        “When did you start smoking?” Shen Liu asked.

        “A long time ago. I quit, but recently I’ve been having one every now and then.” After taking a puff, his voice became low and hoarse, carrying a rough rasp.

        Shen Liu didn’t say anything more.

        The room was pitch black, lit only by the faint moonlight and the tiny sparks of a cigarette. The two of them stood on either side of the window, unusually quiet.

        By the time Qin Mu finished his cigarette and looked up again, his expression had already calmed down. He opened his mouth and said, “I want the surveillance footage.”

        This place had a perfect vantage point and was fully equipped—it was clearly not set up just recently. Shen Liu must not have been watching these people just for fun.

        The man leaned his head against the window frame and said lazily, “What, you think you’re capable of wiping them all out in one go?”

        “Do what I must and leave the rest to fate,” Qin Mu raised his eyes and stared at Shen Liu. “This is something I have to do. Even if it’s like smashing an egg against a rock, even if it’s like a moth flying into the flame, I don’t care if I lose my life doing it. Life is short. What we call ‘meaning’ is all something we give ourselves. Whether it’s worth it or not depends only on how we feel in our hearts. Why I chose this path, why I made this decision—others might not understand, but you should.” By the end, his voice carried a trace of emotion.

        Shen Liu narrowed his eyes slightly. The person in front of him seemed to overlap with the stubborn young man from years ago. The light in his eyes was clear and pure, making it hard to look away.

        “I… should understand?” He savoured the lingering weight of the words, drawing out the end with a teasing lilt. He curved his lips into a smile. “They say a man can change in three days. Looks like I really do need to see you with new eyes. You’ve even pulled out that whole defence routine and used it on me. But trying to trick the cards out of my hand with just empty words… Isn’t that a bit greedy?”

        Qin Mu took a sip of tea without changing expression. “You went through all this trouble to set up this stage. Wasn’t it all just to wait for me to come and beg you?”

        In the time it took to finish a cigarette, he had already figured out the whole story. Shen Liu was the person in the world who understood his temperament best. He naturally knew Qin Mu wouldn’t back down because of this. Bringing him here was probably just to let him see firsthand how hard it would be to win this case, and then sit back and wait for Qin Mu to come knocking on his door, asking for a favour.

        Shen Liu let out a short laugh.

        Qin Mu leaned against the window and said, “If you want something, just say it.”

        “So direct?” Shen Liu gave him a sidelong glance and said teasingly, “What if I ask you to run naked outside?”

        Qin Mu shot him a look from the corner of his eye.

        “Kidding. Don’t take it seriously.”

        “Are you giving it or not?” Qin Mu’s patience had run out.

        “No rush. Let’s go over things first.” Shen Liu refilled his cup and leisurely counted off on his fingers. “You want justice for those victims? You’ll need to win the lawsuit. To win the lawsuit, you’ll have to bring down Zhao Jinchuan. To bring down Zhao Jinchuan, you’ll need to deal with his father. His father, Zhao Dongsheng, is the Zhao family’s cash cow. He was deeply rooted and hard to topple. Above Zhao Dongsheng are two older brothers. The eldest, Zhao Qiming, is currently in a heated power struggle with my dad over that seat. The second brother, Zhao Weiguo, commands a number of soldiers. In addition, there’s an older sister overseas acting as their overseas shield. And above all of them is the old General Zhao, practically a spirit in human form. Nearly a hundred years old, yet still vigorous. Just a few days ago, he was in a wheelchair casting votes.”

        “Besides the immediate family, the Zhaos also have seventy or eighty extended relatives. Going up against this kind of clan usually ends in one of two ways: either you uproot them completely, or you’re left without even a whole corpse. Which do you think you’ll be?”

        Qin Mu remained silent.

        “So rather than handing over the evidence and letting you run off to get yourself killed, it’s more valuable to keep it in my hands and save it for a bigger move.”

        Qin Mu’s pupils contracted sharply as he locked his gaze on him.

        “Didn’t you say you wanted revenge? Then why are you glaring at me?” The man’s tone was nonchalant, as if he had just made a trivial decision over something unimportant.

        “This is my business. It shouldn’t involve you,” Qin Mu’s tone turned stiff.

        Shen Liu’s gaze slowly traced a circle across his face. “There’s a whole lot of things that ‘shouldn’t’ be, and not a single one of the things that ‘should’ be done has actually been done.”

        Qin Mu was momentarily stunned.

        “Don’t get it? I’ll teach you.” Shen Liu strolled toward him unhurriedly. “Right now, I’m your only chance to take down Zhao Jinchuan. What you should do is lower your pride and try to win me over. Do everything you can to coax me into fighting the Zhao family for you. You should gradually play the card of our old relationship, make me willing to go up against Zhao Jinchuan for your sake. At the very least, you should be flirting, playing mind games, carefully calculating how to get me to offer more resources and connections for your use.”

        Shen Liu stopped in front of him and asked, “Have you learned that yet?”

        Qin Mu frowned and had just opened his mouth when that man suddenly stepped even closer, the oppressive feeling intensifying. He instinctively tensed up, wanting to retreat, but there was only a wall behind him—no way out.

       “What’s wrong, can’t do it?” The man’s voice sank lower. “I’d go so far as to draw my sword in rage, yet you disdain playing the femme fatale. Clinging tightly to your pride, you would rather throw yourself into the fire than ask me for help. Are you that determined to draw a line between us?”

       This kind of closeness made Qin Mu extremely uncomfortable. He raised his hand, wanting to push the man away, but the next second, his wrist was forcefully pinned to his side. Their chests pressed together, and even through their clothes, he could feel the other man’s firm and unyielding muscles.

       “You—”

       “You wish.” Shen Liu leaned his face close to Qin Mu’s ear, biting down on those three words with deliberate force, as if he were about to sink his teeth harshly into his neck. “The things you can’t do, I’ll do for you. The things you want, I’ll make them happen for you. The condition is simple—accompany me for one night. As for how, I’ll make the rules. If you can’t accept it, then obediently go back to K City tonight, and from now on, never involve yourself in anything related to the Zhao family again.”

        Qin Mu widened his eyes in disbelief. The situation before him had entirely veered off his expectations, throwing him into utter disarray. He broke free from the hold and shoved hard, gritting his teeth. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

       Shen Liu’s leg bumped into the coffee table, and the teacup shattered on the floor. Almost instantly, the door swung open, and the man with the thin long-face along with a few others rushed in, startling Qin Mu.

       Shen Liu frowned impatiently and said coldly, “Get out.”

       The bodyguards, seeing that he was unharmed, quickly withdrew.

       He turned back to Qin Mu and said unhurriedly, “If you want to go crazy, I’ll go crazy with you. Isn’t that touching?”

       “This is my business. It has nothing to do with you.” Qin Mu kept a stern face, but couldn’t suppress the anxiety and restlessness inside him.

       Shen Liu looked at him for a moment, then smiled. “Whether it has to do with me or not, that’s for me to decide. Haven’t you heard? I’m one of the big names in J City too. My temper’s not much better than Zhao Jinchuan’s. He likes trading sex for favours—I like it too. If you piss me off, you might not even make it back to K City.”

       “I don’t need your help, and you can’t force me to go down this path.”

       “You do need my help. You just don’t want to pay this kind of price.” Shen Liu’s gaze swept across Qin Mu’s face as he said indifferently, “Just now, you were vowing with such certainty that you had to go through with it, even if it cost your life. Now that the chance is right in front of you, you’re backing down? Taking down the Zhao family is a high-risk investment. One wrong step and you’ll lose everything, down to your underwear. Honestly speaking, I’m not even asking too much. You’ve seen firsthand the Zhao family’s connections and methods. You should understand that apart from me, you don’t have a better option.”

       He raised his hand and smoothed the collar and front of Qin Mu’s shirt, which had been rumpled during the scuffle. His voice was unusually gentle. “Think about it carefully. No matter how unbearable, it’s only one night. It’s a very worthwhile deal. I’ll give you time to consider, give me your answer once you’re home.”

       With that, he turned and walked out the door.

       Qin Mu stood frozen on the spot for a long time, unable to move.

 

       The ride home was both brief and endless. The neon lights outside the car window and the receding nightscape became fleeting shadows reflected in Qin Mu’s eyes. His mind, like a rusted projector, lost its ability to move forward, and instead kept replaying past scenes—fragmented, scattered, and blurry.

       What was right? What was wrong? What kind of choice should he make?

       When the weight on the scale was his own life, Qin Mu could wager it without hesitation. But the moment Shen Liu stepped onto that scale, he suddenly lost his courage. He hadn’t expected Shen Liu to get involved, let alone offer such a condition. By now, he could no longer see through the man beside him.

       The car remained silent the entire way. Back at the villa, Qin Mu stopped at the foot of the stairs. His voice was hoarse as he spoke. “Why do this? You, toward me…” He hesitated, as if still unsure what the right words were.

       Shen Liu, standing on the stairs, turned around, lazily curling his lips. “It’s just a one-night stand. Don’t overthink it.”

       Qin Mu fell silent, his lips pressed into a rigid line. He closed his eyes, clenched his hand tightly at his side, as if it took all his strength to force out the word.

       “Deal.”

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