As night deepened, all sounds faded into silence, as if a mute button had been pressed.
Before Meng Jin even opened his eyes, he first sensed the warm, soft presence in his arms. After nights of sharing a bed, Chen Jiaojiao had long let down his guard in sleep, now curled peacefully against him, breathing softly.
He lowered his gaze, using the faint light seeping through the curtain gap to trace the sleeping face beside him with his eyes from the long eyelashes to the delicate nose, finally lingering on the slightly parted lips. Looking closely, his heart filled with contentment.
After a moment, his slender fingers lightly brushed Chen Jiaojiao’s lips, his gaze gradually deepening as he murmured softly, “Jiaojiao, be good, okay?”
Click!
The door opened softly. Meng Jin entered Chen Jiaojiao’s studio with an expressionless face. His unreadable eyes swept quickly across the room, finally settling on the solitary backpack hidden in a secluded corner.
He pressed his lips together, his slender fingers reaching for the zipper. His movements paused almost imperceptibly for an instant before he smoothly pulled it open.
The backpack contained very few items, which made the portrait carefully placed at its center all the more glaring like a meticulously protected treasure.
Meng Jin’s eyes darkened as he picked up the portrait. The foreign man in the picture smiled brightly at the camera, radiant and aggressive. That smile was like a needle, piercing precisely into a corner of his memory, subtly overlapping with a figure he deeply despised.
His knuckles tightened slightly as his gaze lingered repeatedly on the photo, as if trying to burn through that smile completely. After a long while, he finally placed it back exactly as it was, his movements so gentle they left no trace of disturbance.
Meng Jin leaned back, his hands resting on the cold wooden table, closing his eyes and tilting his head upward.
In the darkness, the smile in the portrait grew clearer. A dull ache throbbed at his temples. What was most infuriating was that the person in the portrait bore a resemblance to someone from his memory similarly vibrant, similarly unsettling.
They’re all scum.
His knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. After calming his emotions outside for a while, he finally returned to the room.
Perhaps from standing outside too long, his body was chilled through. He lifted the blanket, wrapping an arm around Chen Jiaojiao’s waist to pull him close. The warm, soft body instinctively shrank away, rolling to the other side to find a comfortable position and sink back into sleep, leaving only a back turned to him.
A faint, cold smile tugged at the corner of Meng Jin’s lips. His already agitated mood, stirred by this unconscious rejection, threatened to unravel completely.
Without hesitation, he forcefully invaded the space between the blanket and Chen Jiaojiao, using his own body and presence to unyieldingly envelop the other back into his territory.
Disturbed in his sleep, Chen Jiaojiao unconsciously pushed against whatever was disrupting his rest. Half-opening his eyes in a daze, his vision blurred, he mistook it for Nian Gao and habitually nuzzled his warm cheek against it, mumbling sleepily, “Nian Gao, stop it time to sleep.”
Nian Gao?
Meng Jin nearly laughed in fury. First the portrait, now Nian Gao. Fine, just perfect. Everything seemed determined to encroach on his space in Jiaojiao’s heart, to compete with him!
In an instant, fury surged within him, but as he lowered his gaze, he saw the defenseless sleeping face of the person in his arms, breathing evenly and steadily. The turbulence in his eyes gradually settled, giving way to a deeper, darker intensity.
Meng Jin pinched Chen Jiaojiao’s chin, leaned down, and covered those slightly parted lips. It was not a gentle touch but a deep, possessive kiss tinged with anger.
His tongue pried open the barrier of teeth, sweeping wantonly through the warm cavity as if a monarch inspecting his own territory conquering, seizing, allowing no retreat.
Chen Jiaojiao struggled to breathe, nearly suffocating, while an unfamiliar pleasure coursed through his body. Just as he was about to awaken, Meng Jin released him at the perfect moment.
A strand of ambiguous silver broke as they parted, clinging to Chen Jiao’s flushed, moist lower lip. By then, the ferocity in Meng Jin’s eyes had completely dissipated, leaving only the satisfaction and lingering pleasure of a feast.
He raised his hand, gently and rhythmically patting Chen Jiaojiao’s back until the breathing of the person in his arms grew long and shallow once more. Only then did he contentedly pull him close, embracing him tightly as he drifted into peaceful sleep.
Last night, Chen Jiaojiao had not slept soundly.
In his drowsy state, it felt as though he had dreamed a dream enveloped by a warm, aggressive presence that clung relentlessly, even bringing faint, stinging sensations, as if something were gently nibbling and sucking.
When he washed up and looked at himself in the mirror, a faint trace of confusion flickered across his cool, distant features. The reflection showed lips slightly redder than usual, with a small, barely noticeable patch of broken skin on the cupid’s bow, already scabbed over and painless.
What happened? Did he accidentally bite himself in his sleep?
It never crossed his mind to suspect Meng Jin. In his heart, Meng Jin was a gentle gentleman someone who carefully planned for him, considered his needs, handled everything meticulously, and always remained composed and dignified. How could he possibly engage in such underhanded behavior? The very thought seemed absurd.
This minor incident was quickly forgotten. He headed downstairs with light steps but did not see Meng Jin. The butler said the master had left for the company early in the morning, likely due to some urgent matter.
Chen Jiaojiao let out an almost imperceptible “mm,” his expression still aloof. He sat alone at the dining table, staring gloomily at the egg yolk on his plate.
With Meng Jin not around, he had to finish the egg yolk himself. It took several bites to finish, and he washed it down with half a bowl of porridge, but his throat still felt uncomfortably clogged.
If only Meng Jin were here… Meng Jin.
His eyes lowered, long lashes casting a small shadow beneath them, concealing a fleeting, unconscious flicker of dependence that even he did not notice.
But on second thought, this was just as well. Today, he could continue setting up his stall and deliver the painting for yesterday’s customer.
Chen Jiaojiao efficiently packed his things and headed to the Meyers’ house with Nian Gao. Having visited so many times, he was already familiar with the routine, easily gathering his tools and preparing to leave.
Meyers had matters to attend to today and did not accompany Chen Jiaojiao. However, while helping him carry out the tools, Meyers glanced at his strikingly handsome profile and hesitated before speaking. “Chen, are you delivering the painting to Mr. Hill?”
“Didn’t your partner get jealous yesterday?”
“Huh?” Chen Jiaojiao blinked, his crystal-clear eyes filled with confusion, not understanding Meyers’ meaning. “Jealous about what?”
Miles watched his completely oblivious demeanor and thought back to Mr. Meng’s half-smiling, unfathomable eyes last time, as well as Hill’s undisguised admiration when he looked at Chen Jiaojiao. He shook his head again and didn’t continue, sighing inwardly: there’s a saying from the distant East everything has its match.
Chen Jiaojiao didn’t dwell on it. Holding Nian Gao’s leash and carrying his easel, he left, unaware that not far behind him, a sleek black sedan was following at a steady pace, like a beast lurking in the shadows.
As he approached the bench where he usually set up his stall, he saw Hill and his friends already waiting there. The regular customer’s eyes visibly brightened when he saw him approaching.
Chen Jiaojiao maintained his pace, walked up, and carefully retrieved the exquisitely framed portrait from his backpack. He handed it over with both hands, his voice clear and carrying just the right touch of detachment. “Mr. Hill, your painting.”
Hill didn’t even glance at the painting, immediately passing it to a friend beside him. Then, as if performing a magic trick, he produced a large bouquet of vibrant, fresh flowers from behind his back, his gaze fervent. “Chen, your art and you have captivated me. Would I have the honor of inviting you to lunch today?”
As soon as he finished speaking, his friends around him began to cheer and tease.
Chen Jiaojiao’s hand holding the leash tightened slightly. Nian Gao seemed to sense it, quietly nuzzling against his leg. He looked up at Hill, offering a polite smile. “I’m sorry, that’s not convenient.”
He paused, then added clearly and calmly under Hill’s increasingly disappointed gaze, “Besides, I have a partner.”
“Really… no chance at all?” Hill pressed on unwillingly, his heart shattering the moment Chen Jiaojiao mentioned having a partner. “Not even just lunch?”
Even though he had lost his memory and hadn’t yet fallen for Meng Jin, it was undeniable and would not change that Meng Jin was his boyfriend.
He didn’t yet know how to be the perfect partner, but at the very least, he had to provide a sense of security for the other half.
So Chen Jiaojiao’s reply held no hesitation, and the cool, detached aura around him grew even more pronounced. “I’m sorry.”
After the polite refusal, he set up his easel under the tree as usual. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled light on him. He sat quietly on his small stool, unhurriedly taking out his tools to paint for customers.
Occasionally, Chen Jiaojiao would look up and exchange a few words with someone, but most of the time, he focused intently on sketching and outlining. His profile was elegant, his demeanor ethereal, while Nian Gao lay quietly at his feet, vigilantly watching the surroundings, not allowing anyone to get too close to its owner.
If Miles were here, he would surely tease, “Pets really are like their owners. Nian Gao’s refusal to let others get close is exactly like Meng Jin ten out of ten.”
Not far away, the rear window of the black sedan silently lowered halfway.
Meng Jin lounged lazily in the leather seat, a pair of sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, concealing the turbulent darkness in his eyes. His gaze pierced through the lenses, firmly fixed on Chen Jiaojiao.
Watching him calmly reject close advances, watching him offer cool, faint smiles to others, watching the sunlight kiss his hair and slender neck…
“Jiaojiao.” A soft murmur dissipated inside the car, carrying a tenderness almost like a sigh, yet imbued with an undeniable possessiveness.
At that moment, a square, black, unidentified object rested on his lap, and from it came Chen Jiaojiao’s voice exactly the same words he had just said to Hill: “Besides, I have a lover.”
Chen Jiaojiao, who was in the middle of painting, seemed to sense something and immediately looked around. Her gaze swept quickly over the speeding cars passing by, and she frowned. Why did she keep feeling like someone was watching her?