Lu Cheng never called him by his name directly, yet he had silently recited those two words in his heart countless times. If he were a devout monk, chanting scriptures with such sincerity every day, he might have already attained enlightenment. Unfortunately, he had never been able to achieve true fulfillment.
He and Qin Mu had a contractual relationship. Every right and obligation laid out clearly in black and white. But emotions—those could never be written down with such clarity.
Lu Cheng had been introduced to a BDSM Club named ‘East Coast’, and upon stepping inside, he was instantly captivated by Qin Mu’s exceptional ropework. Rashly, he rushed over to flirt and strike up a conversation, only to be rejected. It was only then that he learned the man was a well-respected figure in the scene—known as ‘Pharaoh’. From that moment on, Lu Cheng did everything he could to get close to him, exhausting all his connections until he finally secured a favour from Fang Mingyan, which allowed him to become Qin Mu’s sub.
Qin Mu was a nearly perfect dom—highly skilled, versatile, professional, and trustworthy, with an impeccable sense of boundaries in their sessions. By the second time Lu Cheng underwent his training, he was already thinking about establishing a long-term intimate relationship. But he knew that Qin Mu had only taken him in as a favour to a friend. For Lu Cheng, their weekly Friday meetings were soul-stirring dates; for Qin Mu, they were probably nothing more than routine obligations.
Lu Cheng was well aware of the principle that to spark a man’s desire, one must first capture his interest. But no matter how much effort he put in, he failed time and time again. Qin Mu remained unmoved—he adhered strictly to their contract, vanishing after every Friday session, ignoring Lu Cheng’s advances in real life, and never once crossing the line during their scenes. Frustrated, Lu Cheng began to doubt his own attractiveness. Only after asking around did he learn that ‘Pharaoh’ was famously abstinent—he rarely engaged in actual sexual relations with his subs.
Faced with such an unyielding man, Lu Cheng had no idea where to even begin. He hung his whip on the wall and let out a heavy sigh.
The days in late autumn were growing shorter, and by the time Qin Mu returned to his apartment, the sky had already turned completely dark. As he pushed open the door, the motion-activated lights gradually flickered on. Hearing the noise, two cats peeked out from their climbing frame. The white-haired, blue-eyed ragdoll leaped down gracefully; it walked up to him and let out a soft meow in greeting. The other cat, a chubby ginger tabby, lazily flicked its tail before flopping back down.
Qin Mu changed into his indoor slippers and hung his suit on the coat rack by the entrance. After washing his hands, he grabbed a handful of cat food and poured it into their bowls. The ragdoll approached, its tail brushing lightly against his leg. Qin Mu reached down to stroke its head, eliciting a low and contented sound from its throat.
Its name was Beiwei—North Latitude. It had been a gift, and he had raised it for five years. Affectionate and friendly, it loved human company. The ginger cat, Dongjing—East Longitude—had been a stray he had rescued a year ago. Back then, it had been nothing but skin and bones. Its left ear was torn from a fight with other strays, and its body was covered in scabs and patches of ringworm. Now, its skin disease had long since healed, and its orange fur was sleek and shiny, though it had grown absurdly fat. Likely a victim of human abuse in the past, it was wary of people and only got along with Beiwei. It barely acknowledged Qin Mu, not even bothering to look pleased during meals.
Fortunately, Qin Mu was a laid-back owner. He let the cats roam freely and rarely forced interaction, allowing them to do as they pleased. Because of this, they got along harmoniously.
With the cats fed, it was time to take care of his own dinner.
Qin Mu tied on an apron and rolled up his sleeves. He took out ingredients from the fridge and began prepping.
His stomach was sensitive, so even though he lived alone, he never skimped on proper meals. He diced button mushrooms, onions, and bacon, then sautéed them with peas and tomatoes into a thick and rich sauce. He poured it over perfectly cooked spaghetti, topped it with a layer of mozzarella, and slid it into the oven.
220 degrees Celsius. Fifteen minutes.
A piping hot and fragrant baked pasta emerged from the oven. The delicious aroma drew Beiwei over. It jumped onto the table and curled its paws in front of the bowl. Then, it watched him eat in silent expectation.
Qin Mu lived in the heart of K City, in a spacious two-hundred-square-meter apartment on the fifteenth floor. His open balcony faced the river, where the dark waters of the Jialan River divided the city’s glittering skyline into two shores. The scattered lights from boats on the water looked like fallen stars from the heavens.
He ate dinner and browsed the news. He then went through case files sent by his legal assistant and secretary and reviewed the legal provisions and cases. After that, he exercised for an hour at the gym, took a shower, and was in bed before ten-thirty. He read before sleep, and when he had time, he played video games.
On nights without court cases or social engagements, Qin Mu lived with a strict routine—like a train steadily moving along its tracks, neither fast nor slow, everything in its proper place.
To him, solitude meant complete control over his life. There was no need to deal with unnecessary social interactions and no need to consider others’ thoughts or emotions. He felt relaxed and comfortable.
Just as Qin Mu was reading with a cat in his arms, his phone rang. A familiar client was calling to consult about acquiring a private equity investment firm. By the time he had analysed the matter from the perspectives of cost, transition period, and regulatory review and had tactfully advised against the acquisition, more than half an hour had passed. The client trusted him and decided to put the proposal on hold.
During the call, several missed calls had come through—all from Zhou Yi, his business partner. Qin Mu called back, and the call was answered almost instantly. Zhou Yi’s voice was tangled in chaotic background noise and was trembling slightly. It felt that even through the phone, Qin Mu could feel the barely suppressed panic.
“Teacher Xiao had an accident. He was just sent to the ICU. His skull is fractured. It doesn’t look good.”
Qin Mu’s mind went blank for several seconds. He shot up from his seat, knocking over his coffee cup. Brown liquid spilled onto his pants, but he had no time to care. Grabbing his coat, he rushed out the door.
Xiao Chengzong was his and Zhou Yi’s professor—a renowned legal expert at K University. He was sixty-eight years old and had no children. His wife had suffered a stroke two years ago, leaving her with lasting impairments, unable to walk without assistance. The old man was a man of integrity and humility, and he was highly respected in the legal field. In addition to teaching and educating people, he devoted himself to pro bono legal aid, helping those who couldn’t afford lawyers seek justice. Qin Mu had received much guidance from him during his studies and frequently visited to check in on the elderly couple, helping with whatever he could. Just days ago, the old man had been laughing and chatting with him—and now, he had suffered such a terrible accident. Anxiety gnawed at Qin Mu as he rushed to the hospital, barely waiting for the car to stop before leaping out and striding toward the elevator.
The Second Municipal Hospital was one of the best in K City. Even at night, the place was crowded with patients seeking treatment, their faces etched with exhaustion and pain. Qin Mu couldn’t afford to wait for the slow-moving, packed elevator and instead took the stairs two at a time. As he neared the emergency room, a gut-wrenching cry pierced through the air.
His scalp tingled, and his steps halted abruptly.
“Old Xiao! Old Xiao…!”
A woman with graying hair was nearly collapsing in her wheelchair. Her face was streaked with tears, and her voice was trembling and raw with grief. Several relatives knelt beside her, murmuring words of comfort. Zhou Yi stood nearby, gripping a sheet of paper, his face ashen as he spoke with a doctor. Two police officers stood beside him.
Qin Mu felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. His chest tightened painfully, and he couldn’t breathe. It was only when someone tapped him on the shoulder that he finally managed to surface from the suffocating haze.
“He’s gone,” Zhou Yi said, his eyes red.
Qin Mu stared at him and asked, “What happened?”
“Car accident. When they brought him in, he was covered in blood. The main injury was to his head. I asked the best neurosurgeon here to operate…but they couldn’t save him.”
“What about the perpetrator?”
“They fled the scene. The police checked the surveillance footage—it was a CRV with a fake license plate. Last known direction was toward the southern suburbs, but pinpointing its location will take time.” Zhou Yi pressed a hand to his temple, suppressing his grief, then patted Qin Mu’s shoulder. “Go… check on Teacher’s wife.”
Qin Mu nodded. Every step he took toward the wheelchair felt unbearably heavy.
He knelt down in front of Teacher Xiao’s wife, taking her frail hand in his. His voice was soft. “Madam.”
The woman who had once been so strong, who could still joke with him even after her stroke, now seemed to have aged all at once. Her words quivered with sorrow. “Xiao Qin… he didn’t even leave me a single word.”
Resentment. Grief. Sorrow. Heartbreak. Despair.
All those emotions were tangled within that one sentence, slamming into Qin Mu’s heart with unbearable force.
It felt as if the mountains had collapsed and the world was caving in.
The most painful thing about loss wasn’t just losing someone—it was watching the people left behind suffer and being unable to do anything to ease their pain.
Behind his glasses, his eyes burned red, but he kept his voice steady. He gently squeezed her hand. “Teacher didn’t say anything, but you know… he would want you to take care of yourself. You have to stay strong. You still have us.”
Tears streamed down her face. “I want to see him. Let me see him.”
“Alright.”
Qin Mu accompanied her to see Teacher Xiao one last time.
The old professor, who had dedicated his entire life to teaching and nurturing students, now lay pale and still in the cold morgue. The bloodstains on his face had been carefully wiped away, leaving him looking as if he were merely asleep—peaceful and at rest.
Qin Mu stood in silence, saying nothing.
He temporarily arranged for Madam Xiao to stay with relatives, instructed his assistant to find a caregiver overnight, and handled all the necessary arrangements. Afterward, he headed to the police station to meet Zhou Yi and review the results of the investigation.
By the time they stepped outside, the night was deep. Clouds drifted across the sky, shrouding the moon, leaving no stars, no light.
Qin Mu didn’t get into the car. Instead, he asked, “Got a cigarette?” He had quit smoking long ago and didn’t carry any.
Zhou Yi fished a Marlboro out of his pocket and handed it to him.
Qin Mu held it between his lips and leaned in, lighting it against the flame of Zhou Yi’s lighter. He took a deep drag, coughed slightly, then exhaled a swirl of smoke.
The two stood in silence for a while. Zhou Yi hesitated before finally speaking. “I know what you’re thinking, but… this could really just be an accident.”
“Three days before trial. A car with fake plates. A hit-and-run driver who’s nowhere to be found. And that threatening letter left at his doorstep. There’s no way this is just a coincidence. They wanted him dead.”
“Qin Mu—”
“I won’t be around for a while. Keep an eye on my cat for me.”
“Qin Mu!” Zhou Yi’s brows furrowed tightly. He lowered his voice and said, “That’s J City. The forces behind Kuang Mu run deeper than we can imagine. Don’t get yourself involved.”
Qin Mu tilted his head back, gazing through the smoke at the vast, pitch-black sky. His eyes were as cold as ice. “Remember what’s carved at the entrance of our department? ‘With the law as our sword, we defend the land of justice.’”
He stubbed out his cigarette and said calmly, “I will fight the case that Teacher Xiao took.”
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