Day: December 19, 2025

       Shen Liu understood the meaning in those words and curled the corner of his lips. “I agree.”

       “Good.” Qin Mu said expressionlessly, “You understood your own physical condition, you were familiar with the rules of BDSM play, and you had the ability to foresee the intensity and risks of the activities I might have carried out last night. But during the routine pre-scene questions, you did not tell me you were tired or unwell, and during the scene, you did not take the initiative to call for a stop. Therefore, for the current result, you should bear the primary responsibility.”

       His reasoning for assigning responsibility was sound and well-founded. Shen Liu nodded. “En, it’s my fault…” He had wanted to hold back his cough but could not. He choked as he tried to cover his mouth, looking a bit dishevelled.

       Qin Mu silently waited for him to finish coughing. He half-lowered his eyes and said, “In a scene that requires cooperation between two people, failing to fully understand the sub’s physical condition and applying physical pressure beyond their tolerance is negligence and error on the Dom’s part. So I also share some of the responsibility. Besides that, I was under your care while in J City. Now that you have come all this way, I should fulfil my duty as host. All things considered, while you are ill, I will do my best to take care of you.”

       This turn was so sharp and sudden that Shen Liu’s sickly, foggy mind could not keep up. Before he even had time to react, Qin Mu had already stood up. He adjusted the head of the bed to a comfortable angle so Shen Liu could lean back, pulled the tray table into place for him, and then took a lunch box out of the paper bag he had brought.

       Inside was a soft and steaming hot plain congee paired with two light, palate-cleansing side dishes.

       Shen Liu froze, staring at him without blinking.

       Being looked at like that made a faint, suspicious flush appear at the tips of Qin Mu’s ears. His face remained stiff as he said, “I worked overtime today and didn’t have time to go home. I bought the congee on the way. Just make do with it.”

       He had come… to take care of him.

       Shen Liu felt dazed, overwhelmed by unexpected favour, as if he were in a dream.

       A beautiful dream he had waited far too long for.

       A gentle smile appeared in his eyes, growing richer and richer, like spring wind sweeping across a barren field and turning thousands of miles of emptiness lush in an instant. The heart inside his chest, numb for so long, fluttered like a fledgling learning to flap its wings, beating in chaotic bursts. The intermittent fever, the heavy drowsiness, the weakness, the agonising pain in his throat—all of it seemed to vanish, leaving only a faint sting at the tip of his nose.

       “Log…”

       “Eat quickly.” Qin Mu cut him off, his stiffness hiding a hint of shy embarrassment, as though afraid Shen Liu would say something that would embarrass him.

       Shen Liu dropped the subject. He picked up the spoon and tasted a mouthful. “It’s good.”

       It was nothing more than ordinary white congee. How good could it be?

       Qin Mu asked, “Did you burn your brain with fever?”

       Shen Liu laughed. The airflow tickled his throat, making him cough again.

       Just then, someone knocked. It was one of Chu Yu’s secretaries, the one surnamed Yang, whom Qin Mu had met a few times. She placed several large and small bags on the side table, her eyes crinkling with a smile as she said, “Our boss was worried that President Shen wouldn’t be used to the hospital’s nutrition meals, so he specially asked me to bring some food over. But he also told me, if I saw Lawyer Qin here, I should take all this back, because with you around, President Shen definitely won’t go hungry.” She deliberately paused and asked with a smile, “So should I… leave these, or take them back?”

       “Leave them.”

       “Take them back.”

       Qin Mu and Shen Liu spoke at the same time.

       “Eh?” Secretary Yang blinked. “The two of you don’t agree. Who should I listen to?”

       “Listen to him.” The ailing Shen immediately stepped back.

       “Then I won’t disturb you both. I’ll be on my way.” Understanding and efficient, Secretary Yang withdrew neatly.

       Qin Mu unpacked the various food boxes; inside were assorted pastries and abalone congee.

       “I’m only eating this.” Shen Liu did not even glance at the other food. He buried his head in his own bowl of white congee, gulping it down as if someone were about to snatch it from him.

       Qin Mu found it amusing. The corner of his lips curled up unconsciously, but he immediately forced it flat and turned his gaze aside as if nothing had happened. He stood up to refill the electric kettle with water, then placed the pillows and blanket from the cabinet on the sofa bed reserved for accompanying family members next to the hospital bed.

       Shen Liu froze. “You’re going to sleep here?”

       “En.”

       “No.” He grew a little anxious, speaking faster as he coughed and wheezed, “This thing is contagious. And I’m not sick enough to need someone accompanying me overnight. Even if I were, the hospital has caretakers. I’ll just sleep and be fine tomorrow. You should go.”

       “This isn’t your territory. You don’t get to decide.” Qin Mu pushed up his glasses and said calmly, “I’m giving you the treatment of a sub right now. Think it over. You only get this chance once. Don’t say I didn’t offer.”

       Shen Liu choked, calling out, “Log…”

       “Do you want it?” Qin Mu gave him no room to back out.

       Shen Liu admitted defeat helplessly. “…I want it.”

       “Then stop talking nonsense and keep eating your congee.”

       Obediently, Shen Liu lowered his head and finished all the congee and side dishes until the bowl was spotless. He wiped his mouth and said hoarsely, “I’m full.”

       “Do you need the bathroom?”

       “I can go myself.”

       Qin Mu placed the slippers neatly at his feet. Shen Liu got up and pushed the IV stand toward the bathroom. When he returned, he saw the bed had been tidied, and the window left open a crack for ventilation. He sat back down on the bed and switched to a roundabout strategy to persuade him. “You said you worked overtime today. You must have important cases on hand. If you catch the flu, it’ll delay things. And with you lying beside me, I won’t sleep well either. How about… moving to the outer room? Please, my dear Master?”

       This hospital suite had a small lounge with a three-seater sofa where one could sleep. Qin Mu glanced at him, considered it, then carried the blanket out.

       Shen Liu let out a breath of relief and finally lay down with ease. The little energy he had just been forcing out drained instantly. His high fever surged back with a vengeance, and he drifted into a heavy sleep. For half a year, he had been exhausting himself battling others, nearly wearing out what was left of his health. This time, the illness hit him like a collapsing mountain; he truly could not withstand it.

       His condition worsened at night, and his fever rose repeatedly without breaking. Every so often, Qin Mu checked his ear temperature. When it reached thirty-nine degrees Celsius, he fed him fever-reducing medicine and water. Seeing the heat still refuse to drop, he soaked a towel in warm water and wiped his body to cool him down.

       It was late at night, and the cicadas chirped outside. Inside the room, only the soft hum of the air conditioner remained. The nurse came to remove the IV needle, and the sleeping patient remained asleep. His face was flushed bright red, as if he had gotten drunk. Qin Mu suddenly remembered that night when he had received his admission letter from K University—he had thought Shen Liu was drunk beyond consciousness and, emboldened, had done something a bit out of line. Who would have thought this guy had not been drunk at all? He had been perfectly aware, pretending to be confused, quietly watching Qin Mu struggle in his secret crush. Later, Shen Liu explained that back then, he felt Qin Mu was still too young, had seen little of the world and of men, and he did not want him to be hung up on him. So even if he had been moved, he did not respond.

       That was exactly how he was—always making decisions ‘for his sake’ on his own. Over the years, he had done everything, whether he should or shouldn’t, and sometimes it really made one grit their teeth in frustration. Qin Mu had finally gotten the chance to torture him a little, yet now he had fallen sick and needed personal care. It was hard to tell who was torturing whom. After weighing between ‘giving him a proper beating’ and ‘taking naked photos to blackmail him’, Qin Mu noticed the ring hanging on Shen Liu’s chest. In the end, he could not bring himself to do either. Sullenly, he pressed a fever patch with a cartoon pig’s head onto his forehead.

       At dawn, Shen Liu’s high fever finally receded reluctantly. When he woke, he saw Qin Mu asleep, slumped over the edge of his bed. His heart felt as though it were soaking in sweetness to the point of bubbling, swelling with tenderness. Afraid that his cough would wake him, he carefully pulled the blanket up to cover half his face, leaving only his eyes peeking out to look at him.

       At seven-thirty, an alarm rang. Qin Mu woke in a daze, instinctively reached out to feel Shen Liu’s temperature, then withdrew his hand in slight embarrassment when he saw his eyes open. He straightened his collar and stood up.

       “I’m much better,” Shen Liu said. “You didn’t sleep well last night. Don’t drive today.”

       “Zhou Yi will pick me up on his way.” Qin Mu set down the hospital breakfast. “I’ll come back this evening. If you want to eat anything or need anything, message me.”

       “Finally took me off the blacklist?” Shen Liu laughed softly. “This illness was really worth catching.”

       Qin Mu ignored him and left. In the evening, he received a message from Shen Liu.

       Call Me Brother and I’ll Give You Candy: I asked Tao Ze to come. Don’t come to the hospital. Go home and rest.

       Given Shen Liu’s usual behaviour, who knew whether he was telling the truth? Qin Mu did not feel at ease, so he still went to the hospital. He pushed the door open quietly and saw Shen Liu inside, leaning against the pillow, talking to someone.

       It really was Tao Ze.

       Sick as he was, Shen Liu’s voice was thick with congestion, his tone lazy and languid. “Don’t ask me. I’m not handling anything right now. Let Shen Rong decide on his own.”

       “Oh.” Tao Ze responded, then after holding back for a long while, could not resist asking, “Boss… that thing stuck on your forehead… Do you know it’s there?”

       “Of course. Qin Mu put it on.” Shen Liu answered with complete calm, with even a hint of showing off. “It’s for fun. You wouldn’t understand.”

       Tao Ze was speechless, silently cursing him: sick bastard.

       At that very moment, outside the room, Qin Mu was also silently cursing: sick bastard. And he could not help wanting to laugh. Of course he was sick, he was in hospital after all. After confirming that Tao Ze was indeed taking care of him, Qin Mu quietly backed out.

       Shen Liu stayed in the hospital for four days and walked out lively and full of energy.

 

       That night, Qin Mu was buried in overtime work and lost track of time. The receptionist suddenly said someone was asking for him. No clients should be coming at this hour, so he stepped out in surprise. Shen Liu was leaning against the front desk with his hands in his pockets, chatting and laughing with the young receptionists.

       Qin Mu quickly looked him over and asked, “Why did you come?”

       “To deliver supper.” Shen Liu jerked his chin at the two delivery staff behind him, each carrying large bags of food.

       That night, the entire law firm ate an ultra-luxurious Japanese meal. Zhou Yi stuffed a sea urchin into his mouth with a grin. “Senior Shen, long time no see. You show up and immediately spend so much—how embarrassing.”

       “Don’t mention it. It’s nothing.” Shen Liu smiled and naturally placed a box of grilled eel rice in front of Qin Mu. He knew Qin Mu’s stomach was weak and could not handle raw or cold food, so he had chosen fully cooked dishes for him. Qin Mu accepted it, ate a few bites, then answered a phone call and said, “Take your time eating. I’m going to organise some materials to send to a client.”

       “I’ll go with you.” Shen Liu stood up as well.

       A few legal assistants under Qin Mu also tried to follow, but Zhou Yi tapped each one on the head with his chopsticks. “You guys eat your food.”

       Qin Mu’s office was not large, but everything was orderly. The pothos on the bookshelf grew lush, and there was a small fish tank on the desk. It was Shen Liu’s first time there. He did not disturb the work and wandered around on his own to look.

       Even though the man barely made a sound, Qin Mu still found it difficult to concentrate fully. Eventually, he issued an eviction order, “Aren’t you leaving?”

       “I’m waiting for you.”

       “You should go first. I’ll be a long time.”

       “I have nowhere to go.”

       Qin Mu raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

       “Staying alone in a hotel is too lonely. I just recovered from a serious illness and still need someone to take care of me. Could I trouble you to take me in for a few days?” Shen Liu slipped effortlessly into a pitiful act.

       “No.” Qin Mu refused without hesitation.

       “Sigh, then I’ll have to sleep here. Does the firm have any spare offices? If not, your sofa is fine. Considering our many years of history, you wouldn’t really make security throw me out, right?” Shen Liu looked at him with a bright, shameless fearlessness.

       A vein throbbed on Qin Mu’s forehead. “…What is your face made of?”

       “Love and sincerity.”

       He really…asking to be beaten up.

       The office door was made entirely of transparent glass. Any big commotion inside would definitely draw a crowd of people peering over. At a time like this, if he actually had security drag the man out, by tomorrow he would become the centre of gossip for everyone in the building.

       Qin Mu rubbed his forehead, suppressing the urge to beat him up, fished his access card out of his pocket, and threw it at him, gritting out, “Get lost.”

       Shen Liu slipped the card into his pocket and said softly, with a smile, “Dear Master, I’ll be waiting for you at home.” 

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       The light that fell into Shen Liu’s eyes was like the wavering shadows of trees, flickering bright and dim before his lowered lashes hid it away. That faint, dazed “Master…” sounded half like a plea for mercy, half like a confession of longing, carrying an indescribable emptiness and desolation, as if someone stood at the mouth of a dark alley, whispering into an impenetrable fog.

       The hand caging the back of his head withdrew without mercy, leaving behind only a trace of lingering warmth. “The game is over.” Qin Mu gave him a brief glance, then turned and stepped off the stage. He ordered the staff with an expressionless face, “Untie him. If you can’t, cut the ropes.” It was the first time in all his years as a Dom that he let someone else handle a sub’s aftermath.

       Shen Liu silently watched that departing back disappear through the door, then let out a soundless sigh under the mixed gazes of the crowd. This kind of full-body binding exerted intense pressure on blood circulation, leaving his limbs completely numb. Even after the ropes were removed, he couldn’t stand steadily for quite a while, like a robot that had broken down. Chu Yu supported him onto a sofa, asking, “Do you want me to help explain?”

       “No need.” Shen-the-crippled sprawled out on the sofa, long arms and legs half-reclined as he stretched out his joints. “I owed him.”

       Chu Yu curved his lips. “Repaying a debt like this to him will surely cause you a lot of suffering.”

       Shen Liu laughed, unbothered. “He held back. Otherwise, you would be looking for a stretcher to carry me out.”

       “What are you planning next?”

       “No rush. I still have most of my life ahead of me,” the man said with his eyes closed.

 

       The rain had stopped at some unknown time. Qin Mu walked alone along the river. He couldn’t drive after drinking, and he didn’t feel like talking to strangers, so he simply chose to walk back.

       Lu Cheng’s sudden departure had weighed on him. For the first time, he took the initiative to message Lu Cheng to ask what had happened—he wanted to know what Shen Liu had done this time. The other party was probably busy; there was no reply for a long while. Qin Mu slipped his phone into his pocket and continued forward, filled with speculations.

       The rain had subdued the daytime’s heat, and the oleanders by the road bloomed in full vigour. A thin crescent hung pale in the sky, and the clouds drifted lazily. Both water and sky were ink-dark, mingled with the haze of the mortal world. A faint mist hovered over Jialan River; blurred outlines of boats layered and hid within. Starlight and the boat lanterns were hazy, making it difficult to tell whether it was the Milky Way or earthly waters carrying the boats along. The river wind, damp with moisture, slipped into the night and brushed away the heat on his body, yet could not scatter the vexation in his heart.

       The streetlights were dim. Qin Mu wasn’t paying attention and stepped right into a shallow puddle left by the rain, soaking his shoes and socks. A little girl passing by must have found his startled expression amusing and laughed openly. Qin Mu also smiled, very gently. The young mother holding the child’s hand looked slightly embarrassed and pulled a tissue from her bag to offer him. Qin Mu accepted it, thanked her politely, and watched them leave.

       He didn’t bother with his wet shoes and socks. He tucked the tissue into his pocket and kept walking.

       Heracl-tus had said that one could not step into the same river twice, yet fate always enjoyed playing jokes with coincidences. Years ago, in heavy rain in Tingyun Town, his shoes had been soaked through; tonight, his feet were wet again from a roadside puddle. In this world, what one couldn’t escape included not only unexpected puddles but also men who went back on their word.

       No one knew that Qin Mu’s first instinct upon seeing Shen Liu had been to run.

       Because he didn’t know what attitude he should use to face him.

       That man was the one who had stolen heavenly fire to light his way, and also the one who had gripped his hand and forced him to face the darkness; the one who had wagered everything for him without counting the cost, and also the one who had drawn him into a web as a chess piece; the one who had silently guarded his steps all along, and also the one who had manipulated things in the shadows to shatter his principles; the one he had used all his strength to walk away from, and also the one whose single glance could make his resolve waver.

       He was the deity of his life, and also the heart-devouring demon he could not escape.

       Qin Mu had put in enormous effort to suppress the rising panic and helplessness, forcing himself to appear calm and composed. Yet that person had still brazenly laid hands on Lu Cheng. In that moment, a wave of immense disappointment roared through him like a violent wind, fanning the flames in his heart into an eruption.

       —What gave you the right to interfere in my life again and again? Have you ever respected my choices or my way of living? Do you think my life is a toy for you to manipulate at will?

       Qin Mu knew a Dom should not begin a scene under the influence of intense emotions, yet he still failed to hold back. He had wanted to teach Shen Liu a harsh lesson, but even that he had not managed to do. Not even the thin facade of cold composure he used to maintain appearances lasted to the end; he had been forced to flee in embarrassment. Those three questions—he dared to ask them of Shen Liu, but he did not dare to ask them of himself.

       Did he feel anything?

       He did.

       He hated this uncontrollable version of himself. But what should he do? What could he do?

       The rain from Tingyun Town had been falling in his heart for many years, and just when it had finally quieted, the snowy night of J City had come back into his dreams. Everyone said a tangled mess needed a swift blade to cut through. He had swung that blade twice, and each time he had split his own heart to pieces along with it. Now the knife in his hand had already dulled; he could no longer cut anything. All he could do was hold it and stand at one end of a dark alley, waiting for a dawn that he did not know when, or if, would arrive.

 

       Qin Mu returned home with a head full of thoughts. He fed the cats, took a shower, and lay down on the sofa. Beiwei probably liked the gr4p3fruit scent of his body wash; it burrowed into his arms of its own accord, finding a comfortable position to lie on his chest and watch him play tile-matching games. Dongjing sauntered over out of boredom to join the fun, and after some serious consideration of the sofa’s height and its own weight, sensibly chose to flop down on the carpet instead.

       One man and two cats, each in their own place.

       Qin Mu was focused on his game when a message from Lu Cheng arrived.

       Lu Cheng: Sir, I apologise for the late reply. There was a sudden landslide on Dongping Mountain. My medicinal herb plantation suffered significant damage, and some people were injured. It may take quite some time to handle everything. I’ll make an appointment with you again when I return to K City.

       Qin Mu stared at the lines for a moment before replying: Handle it properly. Stay safe.

       Lu Cheng replied quickly: Thank you.

       Qin Mu no longer had the mood to keep playing. He tossed his phone aside and stared up at the ceiling.

       This was a natural disaster, not human harm.

       He had misunderstood Shen Liu.

       And that bastard had simply let him misunderstand, offering not a single explanation, sitting tight and waiting for his guilt to come afterwards.

       …Bastard.

       He knew he had fallen into Shen Liu’s calculations again, yet strangely, the heavy stone pressing on his chest had suddenly vanished. His whole being felt lighter. Qin Mu rested his arms behind his head and thought of how that man, bound in five-flower rope, had been tormented until he begged for mercy. He murmured to himself, “Serves you right.”

       Beiwei stared at him with innocent sapphire-blue eyes. Qin Mu chuckled softly and lightly scratched its chin. “Not talking about you. I mean that bad cat out there—clingy, sly, full of tricks—not cute like you two.”

       Beiwei, satisfied, closed its eyes and remained still in comfort, purring generously as it forgave his treasonous mention of ‘a cat outside’. Dongjing looked jealous, propped its front paws on the sofa, and let out a rough meow. Qin Mu lifted it onto the sofa too and stroked it a few times. The two cats rested heavily and warmly on his chest, as if pushing away all the emptiness in the room.

 

       The next morning, Qin Mu rushed to the law firm to meet a client. He had been busy with pro bono cases recently, and Zhou Yi had threatened him that if he didn’t start making money, the firm would go bankrupt, and his phone number would be plastered all over the city on ads offering large sums for surrogacy. Qin Mu obeyed and ‘returned to proper work’. As soon as he came back, he landed a major cross-border corporate merger case, and the entire office had been spinning like tops ever since.

       Towards evening, he was buried in contract documents, working overtime, when he received a call from Chu Yu.

       “I thought I should let you know,” Chu Yu said directly. “Shen Liu is in the hospital.”

       Qin Mu’s heart tightened. He blurted, “What happened?”

       “Nothing too serious, don’t panic,” Chu Yu said. “He started running a fever last night. He forced his way through the day, but the fever never came down, so we just dragged him to the hospital. The doctor said it’s a viral infection with some signs of pneumonia. He needs rest. He came in such a hurry this time that he didn’t bring anyone with him, so I admitted him for now—it’s easier to take care of him.”

       Qin Mu was silent for a moment before asking, “Why did he come to K City?”

       “As far as I know,” Chu Yu said, “Shen Liu voluntarily resigned from his position as the group’s vice president during an internal Shen family meeting, which means he handed over real power. At the moment, he’s basically a wealthy idler, with only a few unfinished projects left in his hands. As for why he came to K City, I think you know very well.”

       Qin Mu was taken aback. His brows knitted tightly as he asked anxiously, “Is he insane, giving up power at a time like this?”

       He had been worried since the great war between Shen and Zhao. The Old Man Shen would never tolerate an heir who might lose control at any time. Even if he hadn’t acted back then for the sake of the family’s interest, he would inevitably settle scores later and suppress Shen Liu. Qin Mu knew that if he stayed, he would only be a burden, so once he received permission to leave, he did. He had believed that with Shen Liu’s abilities, he would stabilise the situation and hold his position firmly. Yet, he never expected that man to hand over his power so easily.

       “There was no need to worry about that,” Chu Yu said slowly. “On the surface, it looked as if Shen Liu had lost real power, but in truth, all the key positions in the corporation were held by his people, including the newly promoted vice president, Shen Rong. He had already laid out the entire arrangement before leaving. The Shen family’s lifeline remained under his control. If he wanted it, he could take everything back at any time; if he did not want it, no one would dare touch him lightly.” He paused. “Besides, he has me behind him.” These words were steady and forceful, carrying a kind of strength that settled the heart.

       Qin Mu stood before the floor-to-ceiling window and let out a faint breath. The thousands of city lights reflected in his eyes like scattered stars. He suddenly remembered that moment back in J City—the two of them sitting side by side in the back seat of the car. While he had rambled on with all those admonitions, what expression had Shen Liu worn then?

       Restraint, helplessness, bitterness, relief, and a hint of guilt.

       That man had never truly submitted to money, nor had he ever truly coveted power. He was like a lone traveller walking through the depths of night with a sword at his side, willing to stain his hands with blood and move mountains for a belief he could not speak aloud. Even if thousands looked up to him, he remained utterly alone.

       Only now did he truly understand him.

       “The message has been delivered. I’ve sent you the hospital address and his bed number. Whether you go or not is up to you,” Chu Yu said. After a short pause, he added, “You tied him up a bit too hard yesterday. It took him half a day to stand.”

       After hanging up, Qin Mu paced back and forth in front of the window with a stern face. The curious interns poked their heads around the doorway of his office, whispering among themselves.

       “I told you this case was tough. Look, even Lawyer Qin is getting anxious.”

       “Could it be that there’s something wrong with the opinion letter I submitted? I’m doomed. I’m going to get scolded.”

       “Lawyer Qin never scolds anyone, but every time I stand in front of him my legs turn to jelly. I don’t even know why—I just get nervous.”

       “My legs turn to jelly too when I see him. He looks so good in a suit, especially with those long legs…”

       “Aiya, look at you, acting like a lovestruck fool.”

       “No, really, I love Lawyer Qin’s whole cold and ascetic vibe. Especially when he looks at me from behind his glasses—my heartbeat shoots up to two hundred and eighty.”

       “You’re brave. I don’t even dare look him in the eyes. I would blush.”

       Just as their discussion was heating up, Qin Mu pushed the door open and stepped out. The room went silent at once. Qin Mu swept his gaze across the group with a solemn expression, and everyone swallowed nervously in unison.

       “Go clean up and get off work,” the icy Lawyer Qin said before striding out with his long legs. The others exhaled in relief and hurried to gather their things and go home.

 

       Chu Yu had arranged for Shen Liu to stay at Golden Eagle’s private hospital, in the largest single room—it was easy to find. When Qin Mu walked in, Shen Liu was leaning weakly against the bed, coughing. He froze for a moment upon seeing him, then couldn’t help coughing again as he rasped, “Why did you come?”

       Qin Mu set down the fruit basket and a paper bag on the bedside table, keeping a stern face. “You resorted to a bitter-meat ploy. I should at least show up to support your performance.”

       Shen Liu gave a small laugh and leaned back against the pillow with little strength, covering his mouth as he coughed. “Go back. It’s contagious.”

       Qin Mu glanced at him once, then turned and left.

       Seeing that he had actually left, Shen Liu felt his heart go hollow. He stared at the doorway in desolation—only for the man to push it open again moments later.

       Qin Mu was wearing a mask he had gotten from the nurse. He took a seat in the chair by the bed, as proper as when he was presenting an argument in court. “Last night I misunderstood you. Some of it was due to my own assumptions, and some of it was caused by your intentional concealment and inaction. I thought it over—let’s call it even. Do you agree?”

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       Shen Liu’s gaze shifted slightly, and a few seconds later, he stood up.

       He took off his clothes very quickly. He placed his shoes and socks neatly beside the sofa, unfastened his belt, and pulled down the zipper. His movements were smooth and efficient, without the slightest hesitation, as if he did not mind exposing his body to others. In fact, his physique was indeed impressive with tight, evenly proportioned muscles and a beautiful Adonis belt that disappeared beneath his jeans, stirring the imagination. When he reached for the waistband button, he heard Qin Mu’s voice.

       “Leave the pants.”

       The corners of Shen Liu’s lips lifted almost imperceptibly. He fastened the button back into its hole, then walked toward Qin Mu while casting a faint sideways glance at Chu Yu.

       Chu Yu understood and said, “The performance is about to begin. Let’s go sit near the stage.”

       Xu Ye was still immersed in gossiping, having already imagined a full tragic romance between ‘the pharaoh and his favoured concubine’. He was waiting to see what would happen next and muttered reluctantly, “There aren’t any high-level performers today. Nothing worth watching.”

       “If you’re not interested, we can always go play in one of the rooms upstairs for a while,” Chu Yu offered instead.

       Sensing danger, Xu Ye shuddered and instantly yanked Zhuo Yue up as if his seat were on fire. “I’ll go, I’ll go, let’s go. I just remembered something I need to talk to you about.” He took the lead, the others exchanging knowing smiles as they followed him out.

       The circular sofa area was left with only two people.

       Facing Qin Mu, Shen Liu slowly sank to his knees. He first lowered one knee, then both, his posture as solemn as if he were worshipping a deity. His body descended, his gaze shifting from level to upturned, and the infatuation in his eyes grew heavier and heavier. It was as if all disguise, all concealment, and all clothing had been shed together, leaving nothing but bare desire, direct, unrestrained, and burning hot. He was clearly in the submissive one, yet he radiated possessiveness, like a fierce animal crouched in tall grass, baring the most primal wildness toward its prey.

       “Master,” he said. His deep voice made the title even more seductive, like a teasing feather brushing across the heart, sending ripples through it.

       Qin Mu sat motionless, his gaze resting on the hollow between Shen Liu’s collarbones—a silver ring hanging from a red cord, glinting under the light. His expression was calm, his tone equally calm, as he asked with routine detachment, “Anything you can’t accept?”

       “With you, nothing,” Shen Liu answered without hesitation.

       Qin Mu looked at him for two seconds, then raised his hand and pressed the red call button beside the seating area. A server hurried over and asked, “Pharaoh, what do you need?”

       “Bring me rope number 4 from the second shelf of the cabinet in my room, and arrange the performance stage for me tonight.” Qin Mu handed him the black keycard.

       “Certainly, sir.” The server checked the program schedule and asked, “The first performance is ready to go on stage. Is it acceptable to place you second?”

       “That’s fine.”

       “We’ll prepare it immediately,” the server said, stepping away with professional composure.

       This meant it would be a public play. Tonight likely would likely not going to go easily.

       But Shen Liu did not care. Before coming, he had already braced himself mentally. Whatever Qin Mu chose to do to him did not matter. Humans, as social creatures, always imposed certain standards and boundaries in their interactions, yet Qin Mu was the one person for whom he had no standards at all. Shen Liu did not kneel to anyone, did not call anyone ‘Master’, and would never accept being trained or played with in public. But as long as it was Qin Mu, every boundary could shift. Even if the thing in Qin Mu’s hand were not a whip but a knife, Shen Liu would let him drive it straight into his heart without flinching or dodging.

       To submit was simply to offer up both body and heart, no longer belonging to oneself.

       “Slave.” Qin Mu took a sip of his drink and tilted the glass in his hand. “I need a table.”

       It seemed the waiting period before going onstage would not be dull. Shen Liu lowered his gaze. “Yes, Master.” He moved to the man’s side, leaned forward, and braced himself on his arms, keeping his back as flat as possible.

       Objectifying the submissive as a tool was part of the play, a way to more easily evoke the satisfaction of being ‘needed’ and the sense of being ‘possessed’. Qin Mu casually set his glass on the dip of Shen Liu’s spine between his shoulder blades and said concisely, “If it falls, ten lashes.”

       “Yes, Master,” Shen Liu replied.

       It was a crystal wine glass with a large bowl but a narrow base. Even a slight unevenness could throw off its balance. A human body was not a real table; it had natural curves and reflexive reactions. Shen Liu slowed his breathing, tensed his muscles, and tried to maintain as much stability as he could.

       But Qin Mu had no intention of letting him off that easily. He removed the leash from the collar Lu Cheng had worn earlier and hooked it directly onto the red cord at the back of Shen Liu’s neck. The leash pulled tight along his spine, slid down along his cleft, wrapped once around the root of his right thigh, and was tied off in a knot. The tightened red cord dragged the ring against his throat, forcing Shen Liu to tilt his head back. The reversed curve of his neck made the ‘tabletop’ unstable, and the leash’s movement nudged the glass stem, setting the bowl trembling. Shen Liu stiffened his back, doing everything he could to steady it.

       “If it breaks, the game ends,” Qin Mu’s cold voice drifted from above.

       Shen Liu’s gaze trembled.

       He understood very clearly that Qin Mu was referring to the red cord around his neck that held the ring. The cord was thin, and even the slightest force would snap it. And once it broke, the ring would fall away from his body.

       People were always good at using certain objects to express emotion, tucking their true feelings inside in subtle, implicit ways. In this moment, the ring and the red cord were no longer just themselves; they had been given meanings unspoken yet mutually understood. Qin Mu knew exactly why Shen Liu had come, and he had given an equally clear reply—this is my territory, and you must obey my rules, or nothing else will be discussed.

       His body was bound, his throat was restricted, and no movement was allowed. Obedience alone was the only truth. Shen Liu closed his eyes briefly and answered, “Yes, Master.”

       Time moved forward at an unhurried pace. Twenty minutes passed, and he still maintained the same motionless posture. His back, shoulders, and neck had gone stiff, and his breathing grew increasingly laboured.

       As the first performance was about to end, a server came over to notify Qin Mu to get ready. When the restraints were finally released, it felt as if his heart had settled safely back into his chest along with the ring. Shen Liu drew a deep breath and returned to a kneeling posture.

       “Does it hurt?” Qin Mu asked.

       “As long as it pleases you, everything is a reward to me.” A standard answer.

       Qin Mu’s lips curved faintly, neither acknowledging nor dismissing it. He raised his hand and tilted the wine glass slightly above Shen Liu’s head, saying, “Finish it.”

       The angle was awkward; kneeling, he could only reach the rim of the glass by stretching his neck and lifting his face. Shen Liu drank the remaining wine from this position, then licked his lips and said, “Thank you, Master.”

       Qin Mu set the glass aside, tugged lightly on the leash, and said, “Stand up. Follow me.”

 

       A pair of Master and slave who looked as striking as they did naturally drew attention. The stage lights cast a cool silver sheen over Qin Mu, adding to the quiet, sharp aura in his every movement. He unhooked the leash and commanded, “See that circular area? Go kneel over there.”

       “Yes, Master.” Shen Liu obeyed without question.

       After checking the rope bindings, Qin Mu pressed a button on a remote. The circular area began to rise slowly, lifting Shen Liu to an appropriate height. It turned out to be an adjustable display platform. Four cameras pointed at the two of them from different angles, projecting every detail onto the electronic screens.

       The Pharaoh was a major figure in the scene, and opportunities to see his performances were rare. This time, he had brought an unfamiliar new sub onto the stage, drawing even more curiosity. The seats beside the stage were packed. In the front row, Fang Mingyan let out a provocative whistle, eager for chaos.

       Qin Mu’s performance contained no unnecessary theatrics. He worked while explaining key points, like a guest professor, maintaining his usual precise and ascetic style.

       Tonight, he used a full-body rope bondage known as ‘bundled binding’. He first crossed Shen Liu’s wrists behind his head and tied them together, then secured the wrists to the upper arms to complete the lock. “This ‘hands-behind’ tie forces the slave to keep the chest open, with the elbows raised and unable to straighten,” he said, looping the rope around Shen Liu’s neck, crossing it over his chest, and winding it around his bare torso in a beautiful ‘tortoise armour bondage’ pattern. He deliberately tied two flat knots pressing over the nipples and said, “Knots placed on sensitive spots allow the slave to feel more stimulation, similar to friction or caressing.” Finally, he instructed Shen Liu to sit back on his heels, knees spread as wide as they would go, then used a rope passing beneath the crotch to bind his thighs and ankles.

       Qin Mu’s handling of the rope was exceptionally clean, with almost no superfluous movements, and the final result was beautiful. In his hands, the rope seemed to transform into something alive; every knot, every crossing, every line of tension moved according to his will. Shen Liu’s striking body became his canvas, and the red rope bondage became curved strokes painting a scene both cruelly violent and stunningly erotic.

       “Do your legs hurt?” Qin Mu adjusted the ropes’ tension again, his expression focused and meticulous.

       “They don’t hurt, Master,” Shen Liu replied. Maintaining such an unnatural posture for so long had left a thin layer of sweat on his back. The slightly long ends of his hair fell forward and covered his eyes, and his gaze looked even deeper beneath the shifting play of light and shadow.

       Performing in front of an audience tests not only skill, but also a Dom’s control over their sub. The more spectators there were, the easier it was for a sub to be distracted and drift away from the proper emotional state. Qin Mu’s steady stage presence was well known. What surprised people was that this newcomer sub, Sphinx, also behaved with remarkable composure, completely unaffected by outside influences. Throughout the entire tying process, he remained quiet and obedient, with excellent endurance.

       From a technical standpoint, this was a textbook-level bondage demonstration, impressive in every way. Yet it lacked emotional interaction. Sphinx’s gaze had followed the Pharaoh the entire time, but the Pharaoh never once gave him a response.

       Qin Mu finished the full binding and lowered the display platform until it was level with the stage. He examined his work at close distance and said slowly, “This type of full-body tie creates a strong sense of restraint and pain. Aside from the head, the slave can barely move at all, so it’s not suitable for long-term use. The interlacing rope strands affect one another; even a slight movement will pull on various parts of the body, tightening the throat and creating friction on the nipples and crotch. It can allow slaves who enjoy bondage to feel pleasure, like this…” As he spoke, he hooked a finger around the rope looped at Shen Liu’s neck and pulled lightly.

       The sudden tug caused all the ropes on his body to tighten at once. The knots at a few key points scr4p3d hard across sensitive areas, making Shen Liu shudder uncontrollably. A mix of numbness and itchiness blended with pain. He shifted, unable to endure it, attempting to adjust his posture.

       “Did I give you permission to move?” Qin Mu asked without expression.

       “Master, I was wrong.” Shen Liu knew how to bend and yield.

       Qin Mu pinched his jaw and lifted it, forcing his head back in a punitive arc. This movement bent Shen Liu’s arms, which were tied behind his head to their extreme limit. The stretched muscles pulled so tight that even the bones hurt. He started to gasp sharply, broken sounds spilling from his throat.

       “Does it feel good to be controlled?” Qin Mu looked at him through his lenses.

       Shen Liu’s arms and legs were already going numb. He forced himself to answer with difficulty, “As long as the one controlling me is you, I’m willing to offer everything with both hands.”

       “Your hands are already tied,” Qin Mu said, letting go of his jaw, unhurried. “Controlling someone really is addictive, especially when you watch them obey helplessly in your hands. It’s amusing, isn’t it?” As the last word fell, the hand that controlled everything slid to Shen Liu’s chest. Qin Mu picked out a rope and gently hooked it, as if flirting.

       Shen Liu’s whole body went rigid. He could clearly feel exactly where that rope led. Flustered, he said, “Master, I was wrong…”

       Last-minute apologies usually didn’t work. Even though Shen Liu wore jeans, Qin Mu still had ways to make him keenly feel the pressure and friction on his genitals deeply. The rope tugged again and again, like a web woven of numbness and pain wrapping around his entire body. The pleasure that appeared at some unknown moment tormented him until he was overwhelmed and falling apart. At first, it felt like tiny electric currents, pricking and wandering everywhere. Then it turned into little mice scurrying through him, occasionally leaping up to bite hard at a sensitive spot, making his body tremble uncontrollably from the stimulation. His nipples were already hard, scr4p3d raw by the rope, and something was beginning to stir between his legs. Shen Liu tensed, breathing unevenly and shallowly. A mist of tears gathered in his eyes as he begged, “Master, please…”

       The man who was usually lofty, forceful, and ruthless now showed rare vulnerability and submission—an extreme, contradictory kind of sensuality.

       “Your eyes look much prettier now.” Qin Mu used a finger to lift the hair from his forehead, his gaze half-lowered as he looked down at him. “Take a guess. Have you pleased me? Do I desire you? Or, rather, does training you give me pleasure?”

       Heaven always came full circle; no one escaped retribution. The three questions he had once used to crush Lu Cheng returned to confront him now. Shen Liu gave a bitter smile in his heart, his chest rising and falling as he answered in broken breaths, “As long as Master…give me a chance to take the initiative… I can do my best to give you pleasure.”

       A faint, mocking smile tugged at Qin Mu’s lips. He cupped the back of Shen Liu’s head with one hand and leaned in. Slowly, closer and closer. The movement made the bound man tense instantly, nerves stretched tight, his heart pounding wildly.

       “You thought I would kiss you?” Qin Mu stopped just a hair’s breadth before touching his cheek. His deliberately softened voice brushed his ear like a warm, blurred mist. “Sphinx, I don’t like people who assume too much. If you want to be my cat, you should at least learn to behave first.”

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Author’s Note:
Sphinx: besides being a mythical creature, it is also a breed of cat — yes, the hairless kind.

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