He held him like that for a full ten seconds before he finally seemed to regain some sense of control. The force of his arms loosened slightly, though he still did not let go.
He lowered his head, his deep, dark gaze falling upon Lin Yang’s shaken face. His voice was terrifyingly raspy.
“Are you alright?” he asked again in a low tone, his voice even rougher than before, carrying a scrutiny that bordered on anxious. “Are you alright? Did he touch you?”
Lin Yang snapped back to his senses, overwhelmed by a wave of embarrassment and confusion. He began to struggle instinctively, trying to escape an embrace that was far too tight and far too dangerous.
“No… no!” His voice was muffled against the expensive fabric of the man’s suit, carrying an unconscious trace of panic. “Let me go…”
Li Chenzhou’s arms tightened for another brief moment before he slowly, almost reluctantly, released his hold. However, one hand remained firmly clamped around Lin Yang’s wrist, as if afraid he might vanish in the next second.
Lin Yang finally managed to look up and, caught off guard, crashed into the depths of Li Chenzhou’s eyes. The emotions surging within them were far too complex and violent: there was lingering, icy brutality, a deep-seated fear of what could have happened, and something else he couldn’t understand at all—a thick, inseparable… pain.
Lin Yang was stunned by that look, momentarily forgetting to struggle.
Li Chenzhou’s gaze swept urgently over his face, neck, and arms, as if confirming that a precious treasure remained undamaged. When he saw the lingering terror on Lin Yang’s pale face and his slightly reddened eyes, the darkness in his pupils grew even more somber and frightening.
He stopped looking at President Qian, who lay slumped on the floor like a pile of mud, and ignored whether anyone else was watching. He simply held Lin Yang’s wrist with an irresistible force and said in a heavy voice, “Let’s go.”
With that, he pulled Lin Yang along and strode off the balcony.
His pace was fast and urgent, carrying a suppressed aura of violence. Lin Yang was almost half-dragged forward, stumbling through the edge of the bustling ballroom. Wherever they passed, the crowd automatically parted to make a path. Everyone watched them with uncertainty, staring at Li Chenzhou’s face—which was cold enough to freeze a person to death—and the pale Lin Yang he held so tightly. The whispers died out instantly, replaced by silent shock and speculation. No one dared to step forward and ask a single question.
Li Chenzhou’s objective was clear. He pulled Lin Yang straight toward a heavy door marked “Private Lounge” and walked inside. With a heavy thud, the door slammed shut, sealing off all the eyes and noise from the outside.
The lounge was empty, decorated luxuriously and quiet. Li Chenzhou did not stop for a second; he didn’t even turn on the main lights. Using only the dim glow from the wall sconce by the door, he pulled Lin Yang through the seating area and pushed open another door—the connected private restroom.
He pulled Lin Yang into the restroom and locked the door behind them with a click.
In the confined space, only the sound of their uneven, heavy breathing remained, along with the faint hum of the warm yellow lights above. Lin Yang’s heart leaped into his throat!
What was he going to do? Closing the door? Locking it?
Fragments of bad memories from his past life intertwined with the terrifying violence still radiating from the man before him, filling him with immense fear. He violently shook off Li Chenzhou’s hand and pressed his back tightly against the cold tiled wall, looking at him with panicked eyes like a small animal driven into a corner.
“What… what do you want to do?”
His voice shook uncontrollably, carrying a clear note of tears and terror.
Li Chenzhou was stung by his violent reaction and the pure fear in his eyes. He froze in place, standing a step away. His chest heaved slightly, and his eyes, swirling with terrifying emotions, were fixed on Lin Yang as he seemingly struggled to calm himself.
The air in the restroom was so tense it felt ready to snap. Lin Yang even braced himself for a harsh reprimand or even worse treatment.
However, in the next second, Li Chenzhou did something entirely unexpected. He turned around abruptly, no longer looking at Lin Yang. Instead, he walked to the sink and turned on the faucet. The cold water splashed loudly. He braced his hands against the smooth countertop and lowered his head, his broad shoulders tensed as if bearing an invisible weight.
Lin Yang stared blankly at his straight yet stiff back, completely stunned. Time seemed to freeze, with only the continuous sound of running water filling the room.
After a long while, Li Chenzhou finally seemed to suppress the wild beast within him. He turned off the faucet and took a clean white towel from the nearby sanitizer cabinet, soaking it in cold water and wringing it dry. Then, he turned back and walked toward Lin Yang again.
Lin Yang remained pressed against the wall, watching him warily. Li Chenzhou stopped half a step away, not approaching any further. He reached out and offered the cool, damp towel, his voice deep and raspy, yet he made a visible effort to soften his tone, which came out with an extremely unnatural stiffness.
“Wipe your face.”
“…”
Lin Yang looked at the neatly folded towel, then at Li Chenzhou’s eyes—still deep, but seemingly trying to retract that terrifying chill. His brain completely short-circuited. He wasn’t going to get angry? He wasn’t going to do anything to him?
Seeing that he didn’t move, Li Chenzhou’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, as if he were at a loss. He didn’t pull back the hand holding the towel, but his other hand instinctively reached into his inner suit pocket, fumbled for a moment, and pulled out a small, exquisite metal box.
Lin Yang recognized that box. It was a top-tier brand’s “sobriety kit” often prepared for clients who had to socialize; it was said to be highly effective and gentle on the stomach. Li Chenzhou opened the box, took out a white pill, and then picked up a bottle of mineral water from the sink area. He unscrewed the cap and offered them both to Lin Yang.
“…It’s not alcohol,” he added. His tone was still stiff, even a bit clumsy, but his eyes stayed fixed on Lin Yang, watching his reaction. “You’ll feel better if you take it.”
Lin Yang was completely speechless.
He looked at the towel, the water, and the medicine, and then at Li Chenzhou’s hard face, which now showed a trace of unnatural nervousness. An extremely absurd feeling welled up within him. This man had acted like a demon from hell on the balcony, nearly crushing someone’s wrist, yet now he was acting like a… like a big boy who didn’t know how to express care, handing him a towel and medicine?
Was it because he had been scared just now? So he needed to be appeased, lest this “property” be affected by the shock? Yes, that had to be it. It fit his usual style of keeping everything under control.
Lin Yang found a logical explanation for himself, but his shocked heart still could not settle. He hesitated, then slowly reached out to take the cool towel first. The soft fabric against his slightly feverish forehead and cheeks brought a jolt of clarity.
Then, he took the water and the pill. Their fingertips inevitably touched again; they were still warm, but they seemed far less aggressive than before. He lowered his head and swallowed the pill with the water. The cool liquid sliding down his throat did indeed alleviate some of the discomfort brought on by the shock and tension.
Seeing him take the medicine, Li Chenzhou seemed to let out a nearly imperceptible sigh of relief, and his tense jawline softened slightly. But he remained standing there, his gaze never leaving Lin Yang, as if he were performing some unfinished inspection procedure.
Silence spread in the small space, broken only by their faint breathing. Suddenly, Li Chenzhou took another half-step forward. Lin Yang’s nerves, which had just relaxed slightly, tensed up again. He instinctively wanted to retreat, but he was already against the wall with nowhere to go.
Li Chenzhou reached out, but not to touch him. Instead, he gently brushed away the messy strands of hair on Lin Yang’s forehead from the earlier struggle. His fingertips very carefully touched the slightly reddened skin near his temple—the spot where he had accidentally scraped against the railing while being pushed back by President Qian.
His movement was very, very light. Lin Yang’s whole body was stiff; he held his breath, his heart thumping like a drum. Li Chenzhou’s fingertips were hot, and that light touch felt like an electric current, making his scalp tingle. He could clearly see the man’s downcast eyelashes, his tightly pressed lips, and the concern that he tried to hide but still seeped through.
“Does it hurt?” he asked softly, his voice incredibly raspy.
Lin Yang snapped back to his senses and jerked his head away to avoid the touch. His voice was as faint as a mosquito’s hum. “…It doesn’t hurt.”
Li Chenzhou’s hand froze in mid-air, and his eyes darkened for a moment. He slowly withdrew his hand and clenched it into a fist, his knuckles turning white. He stared at Lin Yang in silence for a few more seconds. After confirming that he was mostly just shaken and otherwise fine, he finally seemed to have completed a difficult task, and his body relaxed ever so slightly.
“It’s over,” he said in a low voice, seemingly to Lin Yang, but also to himself. Having said that, he turned around, appearing as though he wanted to leave this cramped and strangely atmospheric space.
But just as his hand touched the doorknob, he paused as if remembering something. He didn’t turn around, but with his back to Lin Yang, his voice returned to its usual cold, hard flatness, yet it still carried a trace of hesitation:
“I’ll handle the situation outside.” “Stay here and rest. Don’t go out.”
Then, he turned the lock, opened the door, and his tall figure quickly vanished outside.
Click. The door was gently pulled shut.
Lin Yang was left alone in the restroom, leaning against the cold tiled wall, still holding the damp towel that was slowly becoming warm and the half-empty bottle of water. In the air, there seemed to be a lingering scent of cold wood and a trace of Li Chenzhou’s body heat.
Lin Yang slowly slid down to sit on the cool floor, burying his face in his knees. His body began to tremble slightly. This time, it wasn’t out of fear.
It was because of an unprecedented sense of confusion and chaos.
Li Chenzhou…