Shen Li received a phone call that evening. At first, he didn’t recognize the caller. It wasn’t until the other party stated his name that Shen Li vaguely remembered him.
He remembered because this person had once confessed to him—right in front of Ji Zhouye.
His name was Lu Ang, tall and slim, a sunny, cheerful guy.
“Shen Li, do you remember me?” Lu Ang asked on the phone.
Shen Li’s thoughts were pulled back. “I remember.”
“I’m working at Ningyi Company now. I took a brief look at your latest project—the prospects are pretty good. Would it be convenient to meet and talk about it?”
He was referring to the same project Shen Li had previously discussed with Sheng Wan.
“Alright,” Shen Li agreed. He knew Ningyi Company. If the deal could be secured, it would resolve the immediate crisis.
Lu Ang suggested a restaurant.
The restaurant was his choice—one of Jiangcheng’s well-known high-end establishments.
Lu Ang was still on a business trip out of town, so they set the meeting for Friday night.
On Friday evening, after Shen Li finished his work and left the company, Ling Feng followed behind him, hesitating as if he wanted to say something.
Shen Li shot him a sideways glance. “If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”
“Then I’ll just be direct. Tonight’s negotiation… you won’t need to sell yourself, right?”
What he really meant was: if that was necessary, he’d go buy protection.
Shen Li: “……”
What kind of assistant hopes every day that his boss has to sell himself?
Shen Li stopped walking, licked his back teeth, and threatened coldly, “If you don’t want to die, get the hell away from me.”
“Got it, President Shen.” Sensing danger, Ling Feng turned and fled immediately.
Shen Li drove himself.
Lu Ang had made his intentions clear—it was an old classmates’ meetup, with cooperation discussed along the way.
The restaurant was on the thirty-second floor. Lu Ang had booked a seat by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
After a brief greeting, they sat down.
“What would you like to eat?” Lu Ang asked with a smile.
“Anything’s fine. You order.”
“Alright, then I’ll just choose.” Lu Ang flipped through the menu and ordered a few signature dishes.
“How have you been lately?”
“Pretty good,” Shen Li replied.
Lu Ang nodded. After a moment, he cautiously asked, “You and Ji Zhouye… are you still in contact?”
He guessed they weren’t. Given Ji Zhouye’s current standing in Jiangcheng, if they were still in touch—considering their past relationship—Ji Zhouye wouldn’t possibly stand by and watch Jiangqing hover on the brink of collapse.
Back then, no one knew about Shen Li and Ji Zhouye.
But he did.
He had once accidentally seen them kissing in an alley near the school.
He had also seen the day Shen Li dumped Ji Zhouye.
Ji Zhouye was such a proud person. How could he help someone who had once trampled his dignity into the mud?
The fact that Jiangqing hadn’t been forced straight into bankruptcy was already an act of mercy.
Even though he already knew the answer, Lu Ang still wanted to hear it from Shen Li himself.
Shen Li’s deep eyes darkened slightly. “No…”
It was obvious Shen Li didn’t want to talk about Ji Zhouye. Lu Ang didn’t press further. He only wanted confirmation.
“Did you bring the project documents?”
“Yes.” Shen Li handed them over.
“And the contract?”
“Under the documents.”
Lu Ang skimmed through the contract, picked up a pen, and signed without hesitation. “I’m honored to help you through this crisis.”
Lu Ang knew exactly what state Jiangqing Group was in. No company would risk partnering with a business facing such danger.
At a time like this, cooperating with Jiangqing meant personal motives were involved—Shen Li understood that clearly.
“Thank you,” Shen Li said with a slight nod.
During the meal, Lu Ang chatted with him a lot. They both drank quite a bit of red wine.
The dinner went fairly well. Shen Li paid the bill.
While waiting for the elevator, Lu Ang turned his head and smiled. “Let’s add each other on WeChat. We can keep in touch.”
Shen Li had no reason to refuse. “Sure.”
“I’ll scan you,” Lu Ang said.
Shen Li opened his QR code. Just as Lu Ang scanned it, the elevator doors opened.
Lu Ang was looking down at his phone and didn’t notice the people inside—but Shen Li did.
The moment he saw who was in the elevator, Shen Li’s heart tightened.
The man inside wore a perfectly tailored black suit. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long straight legs.
Shen Li met his gaze.
Ji Zhouye’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, a chill flashing through them as his gaze swept over Shen Li and Lu Ang.
“I’ve added you. Accept it when you get a chance,” Lu Ang said, lifting his head—and only then noticing the person inside the elevator.
The three of them stood frozen for a few seconds.
Seeing that Shen Li didn’t look well, Lu Ang was about to speak when Shen Li stepped into the elevator.
Since no one was avoiding anything, Lu Ang followed him in without much thought.
The confined space felt suffocating. The pressure was heavy. No one spoke.
Ji Zhouye’s phone buzzed with a new message.
After reading it, the darkness in his eyes deepened. The hand holding the phone tightened, knuckles turning white.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
Shen Li could feel that gaze on him—it was unbearable.
Finally, the elevator doors opened. Just as Shen Li stepped out, his wrist was seized. A powerful force dragged him away.
Lu Ang was left behind, watching the two figures leave, his expression unreadable.
Shen Li struggled but couldn’t break free. He’d drunk some wine, and a dull pain was spreading in his stomach.
Dragged into a dim alley, Ji Zhouye roughly threw him aside.
Shen Li’s back slammed into the wall. He frowned slightly. “Ji Zhouye, what the hell are you doing?”
Ji Zhouye’s eyes were bloodshot, anger seeping from between his brows.
He leaned in aggressively, gripping Shen Li’s chin with crushing force.
“Tell me—how did you get him to cooperate with you?”
The oppressive presence closed in.
Ji Zhouye tightened his grip. Shen Li’s jaw ached.
“Speak,” Ji Zhouye said, struggling to suppress his rage. “Did you sleep with him?”
Shen Li looked straight at him, unflinching. “If I slept with him, wouldn’t President Ji be able to find out?”
Ji Zhouye wanted to hear it from his own mouth. His gaze was icy. “I want you to say it.”
“No.”
He hadn’t slept with him.
Only then did Ji Zhouye’s expression ease slightly. His thin lips pressed down.
Shen Li instinctively turned his head away, but Ji Zhouye forced him back.
“Don’t dodge, Shen Li. This is what you owe me.”
Threatened like that, Shen Li didn’t dare dodge again—but he couldn’t swallow his anger either. He hooked an arm around Ji Zhouye’s neck and bit down hard.
You said I can’t dodge.
You didn’t say I can’t bite.
Ji Zhouye was half a head taller. Shen Li had to tilt his chin up.
The taste of blood spread in their mouths. Ji Zhouye cupped the back of his head, deepening the kiss even further.
Even if Shen Li wanted to escape, he couldn’t—he could only endure it passively.
When the kiss turned heated, the corners of Shen Li’s eyes reddened. Ji Zhouye finally released him, his thumb brushing over Shen Li’s damp lips.
“You’re having such a hard time—why didn’t you come beg me? Hmm?”
“…No face.”
He had no face to beg him.
“Ten billion,” Ji Zhouye said, pressing his forehead against Shen Li’s. “Be my lover. From now on, you won’t need to beg anyone.”
“President Ji is generous,” Shen Li said, breaking free of his hold. “And if I say no?”
Ji Zhouye raised a brow slightly. “You don’t get to choose.”
Shen Li’s hand clenched at his side, knuckles turning white.
Ji Zhouye was right.
If Ji Zhouye wanted to entangle him, all Shen Li could do was obey and let himself be used. Whether Jiangqing Group lived or died depended on a single word from Ji Zhouye.
Since he couldn’t escape and couldn’t hide, then he’d accept his fate.
It was just sex.
Once was sleeping. A hundred times was still sleeping.
When Ji Zhouye finally vented his anger and got bored, he’d naturally stop pestering him.
Ten billion—only an idiot would refuse. Who argues with money?
Shen Li and Ji Zhouye walked out of the dark alley.
Under the streetlights, Ji Zhouye finally noticed how pale Shen Li looked. Sweat beaded on his forehead, even the hair at his temples soaked through.
Ji Zhouye frowned. A trace of worry surfaced in his eyes as he grabbed Shen Li’s wrist, his voice tense.
“Are you feeling unwell?”