“Hurry up.” This was the final command Zhou Xuying issued.
He Qian had tried to run away, yet he was the one who had to admit his mistake. This was because He Qian could not escape the palm of Zhou Xuying’s hand. Zhou Xuying occupied a position of absolute power, and those in high positions felt no need for reason. In a single month, He Qian had attempted to escape three times.
He Qian’s stubbornness had finally incited his rage.
Zhou Xuying felt it was time to set some rules; otherwise, He Qian would never learn to behave.
“If you won’t admit you’re wrong,” Zhou Xuying lit a cigarette and dragged the man toward him, “then I’ll set some rules for you.”
He Qian struggled, hurling insults: “Madman! You’re sick!”
He was not spineless. He would neither admit fault nor cry. Instead, he bit down hard on Zhou Xuying’s shoulder blade, exchanging pain for pain.
Outside the window, the night was thick, and the streetlights scattered into fragments of light and shadow. As He Qian bowed his head to bite him, he once again saw the tattoo on Zhou Xuying’s chest, a Yin-Yang mask.
Zhou Xuying had a full-back tattoo that extended all the way to his chest. It was exceptionally terrifying, like some sort of eerie, forbidden sorcery.
He Qian’s body went stiff.
Zhou Xuying savored the moment and stubbed out his cigarette. Framed by the light and shadow, his features were sharp, his brow was slightly furrowed, and he looked every bit the handsome authority.
He arched an eyebrow at He Qian. “Behaving now?”
He Qian stared at the bite mark on Zhou Xuying’s shoulder.
Zhou Xuying knew He Qian would not be broken so easily; there was no rush. After this brief punishment, he adjusted his clothes and summoned the driver to the car to head to the hospital.
He Qian leaned his head against the car door, his expression numb.
Zhou Xuying rolled down the window to let the scent dissipate and glanced at the rearview mirror. In the reflection, He Qian’s thin frame was sunken into the cushions. His neck was slender, and his fair skin, flushed pink, was displayed vividly under the moonlight. As he breathed, his chest rose and fell slightly.
He was captivatingly alluring.
With a dark expression, Zhou Xuying withdrew his gaze. His hand, pressed against the leather seat, trembled slightly as blood flowed silently down his fingertips.
The car sped down the road, heading straight for the hospital.
As the black Bentley pulled up to the hospital entrance, the white-haired director personally came to greet them with a smile, followed by specialists who had been called in for an emergency.
“President Zhou,” the director said, feigning cordiality.
Zhou Xuying nodded.
As the director prepared to lead Zhou Xuying to the operating room, Zhou Xuying glanced back at He Qian in the car.
“Get out of the car.”
“I can’t!”
He Qian picked up a crumpled ball of paper from the car and threw it at him with all his might. The paper ball drifted harmlessly to Zhou Xuying’s feet, missing its mark.
Zhou Xuying stayed silent.
The two remained in silence until Zhou Xuying finally picked up the paper ball. In an educational, scolding tone, he said, “Stop running around.”
He Qian wondered if he was serious. He could not even walk, let alone run!
He Qian’s fingertips tightened, trembling with rage.
As Zhou Xuying lowered his gaze to follow the director, he gave the driver a look that meant: watch He Qian.
The driver nodded in understanding.
After Zhou Xuying left, the driver looked at He Qian through the rearview mirror. “Mr. He, the Young Master treats you exceptionally well.”
“If you’re so envious, I can suggest he shares the favor with you as well.”
He Qian truly could not understand this version of “well.”
He was forced to be Zhou Xuying’s lover. From beginning to end, Zhou Xuying had never sought his consent. He was treated like a plaything to be summoned or dismissed at will.
This was nothing but extreme authoritarianism. It had absolutely nothing to do with being good to someone.
The driver wiped away sweat with an awkward laugh. “No thanks. I am fifty this year.”
He Qian’s cold voice was laced with thorns. “Where there is a will, there is a way.”
The driver shook his head vigorously. “Mr. He, you must never say such things in front of the Young Master.”
In all of Beijing, everyone knew of Zhou Xuying’s ruthless and decisive methods. He was a man everyone avoided, yet this goodness was being forced upon He Qian. He could not bear the weight of that word.
He Qian had mysteriously arrived in this world a month ago, only to become the lover of this world’s Zhou Xuying, a man who shared the same name.
The Zhou Xuying of this world was decisive and lethal, and his methods were not tempered in the slightest.
In his original world, He Qian had only seen Zhou Xuying a few times at banquets and had no other interaction with him. But He Qian knew that Zhou Xuying had taken over the family only after sending his own brother to prison, an incident that had shocked Beijing.
Because of this, He Qian had kept his distance, but that was not the only reason. It was what the incident reflected: Zhou Xuying’s heart was too cruel.
He Qian stopped talking and leaned against the car door to rest when he touched something. It was a lemon-flavored lollipop.
It was He Qian’s favorite candy, and it was always kept in the car.
He Qian unwrapped the candy and popped it into his mouth. The image of Zhou Xuying severing his own tendons flashed in his mind again.
Setting aside the forced nature of the relationship, Zhou Xuying did treat his “lover” quite well. He was never stingy, and he did not seem to mind when He Qian bit or cursed him out of desperation.
Even so, He Qian would not be moved. Because he was He Qian.
At thirteen, He Qian learned of a girl who had been assaulted until she suffered lifelong incontinence, only for the media to twist the truth. She became a victim of cyberbullying, and her mother passed away from a cerebral hemorrhage.
Because of that, he vowed to become a criminal lawyer. He hated every “oppressor” who used power or strength to persecute others with equal fervor.
Zhou Xuying was the dark abyss he wanted to stay away from.
The first time He Qian ran away, Zhou Xuying found him in just three hours. He Qian was in a taxi at the time. Zhou Xuying intercepted the car, broke the driver’s leg on the spot, and paid him off.
Finally, he dragged He Qian into the suburban woods.
He Qian would never forget that painful, long night, nor would he forget Zhou Xuying whispering in his ear: “He Qian, is running away fun?”
It was like a demon’s whisper. He was mad and obsessive. He Qian shivered every time he thought about it.
Besides that, Zhou Xuying had far too many strange quirks.
He Qian waited for about half an hour, gradually becoming drowsy, and eventually fell asleep without realizing it.
He did not know when Zhou Xuying returned. He felt the car vibrate when it stopped at the Zhou residence and rolled over.
Zhou Xuying carried He Qian into the villa and placed him on the soft bed. He had severe germophobia and only let He Qian sleep after giving him a simple cleaning.
He Qian was so exhausted that he did not move an inch. He was rarely this well-behaved.
The moonlight fell on He Qian’s face, softening his sharp edges.
Zhou Xuying stared at him for a moment. Just as he was about to leave, He Qian suddenly grabbed his left hand.
A layer of cold sweat broke out on Zhou Xuying’s forehead.
He tried to gently pry He Qian’s hand away, but He Qian gripped tighter, murmuring in his sleep, “Why?”
“What?”
He Qian fell into a deep sleep, and his voice faded.
Zhou Xuying’s eyes darkened slightly as he unbuttoned his shirt with one hand. Tonight, he rarely stayed to sleep beside his “lover.”
The Next Day.
He Qian was woken up by the housekeeper.
As usual, he reluctantly went to deliver breakfast to Zhou Xuying. As a lover forced to be compliant, he had to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner with Zhou Xuying.
For some reason, Zhou Xuying refused to eat breakfast at home, so He Qian had to wake up early every day to deliver it to the company. He Qian felt that Zhou Xuying was deliberately making things difficult for him.
He Qian took the elevator straight to the top floor.
When he pushed the door open, Zhou Xuying was talking to a man. The man was stout, and his fat was squeezed into a suit that looked like it was struggling to hold him.
In contrast, Zhou Xuying wore a sharp, tailored suit, appearing exceptionally refined.
Zhou Xuying leaned back slightly in his office chair with his right hand supporting his chin and his left hand resting on the desk, tapping rhythmically. He looked like a high-level predator in control of the elements. In Beijing, Zhou Xuying was exactly that kind of existence.
Zhou Xuying glanced at He Qian but did not beckon him over. He Qian stood in place and waited, his eyes falling on Zhou Xuying’s left hand.
The gauze was soaked through with deep red blood.
Was Zhou Xuying’s wound still bleeding?
Five minutes later, the man sitting opposite Zhou Xuying stood up. He Qian heard the man’s hearty laughter: “President Zhou, then it’s a deal.”
Zhou Xuying nodded.
After the man left, He Qian set the hot porridge on the table.
“Zhou Xuying, today, can you not, not call me?”
He Qian pursed his lips and glanced at Zhou Xuying, his tone much softer.
Zhou Xuying raised an eyebrow. “No.”