In the dimly lit bedroom, the air was thick with lingering intimacy.
“Shen Li, who am I?” The man’s voice was low and hoarse.
“Ji Zhouye…” His voice was broken. “Don’t touch me there…”
Ji Zhouye’s eyes were red at the corners, desire flooding his gaze. “Will you die if I touch you?”
“No.”
“Then shut up.” Ji Zhouye’s voice carried a cold edge.
Three in the morning.
Looking at the person on the bed, exhausted to the point of collapse, Ji Zhouye’s well-defined fingers gripped his chin. His thumb brushed across those thin lips, and he gave a dissatisfied scoff. “Can’t even take it.”
Ji Zhouye got up and went into the bathroom. There was not the slightest hint of tenderness—only chill indifference in his eyes.
Sunlight streamed into the room through a gap in the curtains.
Shen Li woke up at nine.
He was lying on his side, clearly aware of the warm body pressed against his back, and the arm wrapped around his waist.
Thinking of what had happened the night before, Shen Li’s heart trembled.
Ji Zhouye hated him.
Shen Li closed his eyes and buried his face into the pillow, greedily clinging to that familiar warmth behind him.
After a minute, he became more clear-headed. Carefully, he moved the arm from his waist and got up, heading into the bathroom.
He had wanted to run away. He had once hurt Ji Zhouye without leaving any room for retreat—he had no face to see him now.
But he couldn’t leave. Ji Zhouye still hadn’t signed the contract.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Shen Li lightly touched the bite mark on his collarbone.
He’d drunk quite a bit the night before. Now his head hurt, and so did his waist.
“Ji Zhouye, you bastard…”
He cursed out of reflex, triggered by certain memories. Only a few seconds later did he belatedly realize that the Ji Zhouye of today was no longer the Ji Zhouye who once loved him.
Shen Li changed into his suit and walked out of the bathroom. He lifted his eyes—and froze. His heart tightened without warning.
The man before him had sharply defined features, deep-set brows, exuding an air of noble ease and lazy arrogance.
Ji Zhouye finished fastening his suit buttons and looked over, his eyes icy cold, a mocking curve lifting his lips. “Do you treat other business partners the same way you treated me last night?”
Shen Li’s heart clenched uncontrollably, his fingers twitching slightly.
Last night had been their first meeting after four years apart.
After a few seconds, Shen Li spoke slowly. “No.”
“You think I’d still believe what you say?” Ji Zhouye sneered.
“Whether I did it or not is my business. Whether you believe it or not is yours.” Shen Li’s face was expressionless, but since last night, his heart had already been thrown into uncontrollable chaos.
Ji Zhouye pulled out a document and tossed it at Shen Li’s feet, anger flickering in his eyes, along with a trace of red that was hard to notice. “Take your things and get lost.”
Shen Li’s eyes stung. He stood there, unmoving, staring at Ji Zhouye’s face—so cold it revealed not a shred of emotion.
Ji Zhouye stared back, inexplicably irritated. The Shen Li in his memory shouldn’t look like this.
Four years ago, he had been wild and unrestrained.
He should still be like that now.
Not lowering himself for some so-called contract, begging others, even trading his own body for a chance at cooperation.
Ji Zhouye turned away, standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows, his silhouette sharp and imposing.
His tone was impatient. “Hurry up and get out.”
With burning eyes, Shen Li took one last deep look at that tall figure, bent down to pick up the contract, and left.
Back at Jiangqing Tower, he dealt with the pile of pending work.
The Jiangqing Group was in financial crisis. Old shareholders had taken the money and fled. Everything now required his personal attention—there could be no mistakes.
One single mistake, and Jiangqing Group might disappear from this world.
At eleven that night, Shen Li returned home, exhausted to the bone, fatigue etched between his brows.
The living room lights were on. A well-maintained woman sat on the sofa, her features bearing some resemblance to his.
Shen Li glanced at her without emotion, walked to the fridge, took out a bottle of water, and drank a few mouthfuls.
“How’s the company?” the woman asked.
Shen Li replied coldly, “The company’s affairs are none of your concern.”
“I’m your mother. How could I not be concerned?” she said. “I think you should shut the company down. Given how bad things are now, reviving it will be very difficult.”
Shen Li’s gaze darkened. “Jiangqing is my dad’s life’s work. I won’t shut it down.”
“I have an idea,” she said.
She didn’t want the company to close either—she was still counting on it to give her money. “The Ji family dominates Jiangqing now. Didn’t you used to be close with the Ji family’s son? Go beg him. Maybe he’ll help you out for old times’ sake. Maybe—”
“Zhou Lifen!” Shen Li snapped, calling her by name as he cut her off.
Startled by his sudden anger, Zhou Lifen jumped. “You ungrateful brat! What are you yelling for? I’m trying to help you!”
“Zhou Lifen, anyone else could tell me to beg him—except you.” Shen Li’s eyes were bloodshot. “Have you forgotten what you did? Do you need me to remind you how you threatened me back then?”
Zhou Lifen stood up, refusing to back down. “If it weren’t for your abnormal sexual orientation, liking a man, would I have done that? Who was I doing it for? Wasn’t it all for you, for the Shen family?”
Shen Li closed his eyes, unwilling to argue. “Get out. Get out of my house.”
Grinding her teeth, Zhou Lifen slapped him across the face. “Unfilial son! Talking to your mother like this over a man!”
Shen Li stared at her. Suddenly, he laughed—mocking and bitter.
The smile vanished just as quickly, replaced by a sharp, unhinged look, like a madman. “Am I not allowed to talk to you like this? After what you’ve done, this is all you deserve.”
He did have resentment over that incident, and it had driven a wedge between them—but it wasn’t enough to make him hate her. What he truly hated was that on the day his father got into a car accident, his own mother was in a hotel room with another man.
Shen Li’s eyes reddened. “The day my dad was in the hospital fighting for his life after the accident—what were you doing, Zhou Lifen?”
“You were in a hotel room with another man. You didn’t even see my dad one last time.”
“That was so long ago,” Zhou Lifen said impatiently. “Do you really have to keep harping on it?”
“Get out,” Shen Li said coldly. “Don’t ever show up in front of me again.”
Zhou Lifen hesitated when she met Shen Li’s terrifying gaze. Fear crept into her heart. She said nothing more and left.
She had seen Shen Li lose control before. When he went crazy, he didn’t care about his own life.
After Zhou Lifen left, Shen Li changed the password.
Shadows of leaves swayed faintly. The summer heat pressed down on him, making him restless.
Shen Li stood on the balcony, the red glow between his fingers flaring and fading.
That summer back then had been just as stiflingly hot.
He had just entered his freshman year after graduating high school. He met Ji Zhouye during military training. Like him, Ji Zhouye majored in finance.
Ji Zhouye had always been like this—cool, reserved, taciturn.
When the instructor called roll, Shen Li remembered Ji Zhouye’s name.
Later, he heard classmates chatting and learned that Ji Zhouye had been admitted through recommendation—an unquestionable top student.
After one training session, everyone gathered around, urging those with talents to perform. Shen Li found it boring. Turning his head, he noticed Ji Zhouye sitting alone nearby, looking lonely—at least, that was how Shen Li saw it.
He didn’t know what he was thinking. He went to buy two bottles of water, sat beside Ji Zhouye, and handed him one.
Ji Zhouye looked at him for a few seconds before taking it. “Thanks.”
They chatted casually for a bit. Shen Li learned that Ji Zhouye was also from Jiangcheng, and he smiled. “Let’s go home together next time.”
Ji Zhouye didn’t say much—just gave a very soft “Mm.”
From that moment on, things began to spiral beyond Shen Li’s control.
Two months into the semester, he and Ji Zhouye had grown close.
One lunchtime in the cafeteria, a girl shyly walked up to Shen Li with her phone. “Shen Li, I like you… can I get your WeChat?”
Shen Li was used to such situations, but he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Ji Zhouye looked extremely displeased.
Without thinking much, Shen Li looked at the girl. Something misfired in his head, and he said, “Sorry, I like men.”
The girl was disappointed but more shocked. She said “Sorry to bother you” and left.
After she left, Ji Zhouye spoke slowly. “What kind of man do you like?”
Shen Li: “…”
Feeling mischievous, Shen Li grinned roguishly. “Someone like you, Brother Ji.”
Ji Zhouye was a year older, so when Shen Li was being shameless, he’d call him “Brother Ji.”
The speaker meant nothing by it—but the listener took it to heart.
With his outstanding looks, Shen Li attracted many girls. Later, “I like men” became his go-to excuse for turning them down.
Simple and brutal.
In an age of advanced internet, people usually pursued others by adding contact info. Yet Shen Li once received a handwritten love letter—one he still didn’t know the author of to this day.
The cigarette between his fingers burned out. Shen Li’s thoughts snapped back to the present. He turned and went back into the room.