After being “promoted” to chauffeur, Shen Li finished his work for the afternoon, handed the rest over to Ling Feng, and left the company before five.
Right now, he couldn’t afford to offend that man.
At five sharp, he arrived at the JH Group building.
In Jiangcheng’s business circle, no one didn’t know what JH stood for—J for Ji, H for He. Ji Zhouye’s mother’s surname was He.
Ji Zhouye’s parents were famous for openly flaunting their affection, so this wasn’t exactly a secret.
He’d grown up in a warm family environment, and the son they raised was outstanding in every way.
At five past five, Ji Zhouye walked out of the office building.
Shen Li looked at him—refined and noble in bearing, broad shoulders, narrow waist, proportions so perfect it was hard to look away.
As Ji Zhouye approached the car, Shen Li got out from the driver’s seat and opened the rear door. If you were going to be a driver, you had to act like one.
“President Ji, please.”
Ji Zhouye gave him a calm glance and got in.
Shen Li closed the door and returned to the driver’s seat. “Back to the estate?”
Ji Zhouye closed his eyes, leaning lazily against the seat, looking weary and relaxed. He gave a soft “Mm.”
Shen Li started the car. He could tell Ji Zhouye was tired and asked, “Long day?”
“Not too bad.”
Shen Li didn’t say more. After the car had been on the road for about two minutes, the man in the back spoke again.
“Go to your place.”
“What?” Shen Li didn’t react right away.
“Your luggage,” Ji Zhouye said slowly. “If you don’t want to go back, I can have someone buy you new clothes. My clothes don’t fit you very well.”
Shen Li: “……”
“President Ji, you really didn’t need to add that last sentence.”
Ji Zhouye was taller than him; his clothes were too big on Shen Li.
Shen Li turned the car around and headed back to his apartment.
He used to live in the old family house. After Jiangqing ran into financial trouble, he sold it despite Zhou Lifen’s objections.
Now he lived in an apartment he’d bought himself. It wasn’t big, but it was enough for him.
Ji Zhouye went upstairs with him. Shen Li stood at the door, hesitating, not entering the passcode.
After arguing with Zhou Lifen last time, he’d changed the lock code.
He didn’t know what possessed him, but on impulse, he’d changed it to Ji Zhouye’s birthday.
Seeing him stand there without moving, Ji Zhouye looked at him calmly. “What are you spacing out for?”
Under Ji Zhouye’s gaze, Shen Li stiffly entered the code: 0809.
When Ji Zhouye saw the numbers, his eyes darkened with an unreadable expression.
He didn’t ask.
Shen Li, feeling guilty, explained, “I meant to enter my own birthday when I changed it. My hand slipped and I mistyped.”
Their birthdays were only a day apart—Shen Li’s was August 8th.
The explanation sounded weak. If it were a mistake, he could’ve changed it back. He hadn’t. And it hadn’t been a mistake.
Shen Li shut up, opened the door, and let Ji Zhouye in.
He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. When he turned back, Ji Zhouye was still standing at the entryway, his gaze fixed on the photo frame, eyes deep and dark.
Sensing something wrong, Shen Li hurried over and flipped the frame face down, nervously handing Ji Zhouye the water. “No need to change shoes. Drink some water.”
His fingers tightened around the bottle.
The photo in that frame was from their freshman year—a picture of him and Ji Zhouye together.
Back then, Zhou Lifen came and went as she pleased, so Shen Li never dared to put it out. Now that he’d changed the lock code and she wouldn’t come anymore—and after running into Ji Zhouye again—he’d taken the long-hidden photo out.
He only dared to place it at the entryway. One glance when leaving, one glance when coming back.
He didn’t dare put it by the bed or on the coffee table. He was afraid that if he saw it too often, he’d never forget.
Life was long. He couldn’t spend it all stuck on one person.
Ji Zhouye took the water and walked into the living room.
After packing, Shen Li pulled his suitcase out of the bedroom. Ji Zhouye was sitting on the sofa, the bottle of water untouched on the coffee table.
Ji Zhouye lifted his eyes to him, his expression inscrutable, voice cold. “Explain what that photo is about.”
He still couldn’t dodge it.
Shen Li’s expression shifted slightly, then he put on his usual shameless grin. “I look pretty handsome in that photo. I admire my own good looks every time I come and go. What else would President Ji think it is?”
Ji Zhouye looked at his flippant expression, his voice icy. “Get over here.”
Shen Li’s scalp tingled. Seeing Ji Zhouye’s murderous look, he had no choice but to put the suitcase down and slowly walk over.
Even while walking, he tried to placate him. “President Ji, control your emotions. We can talk things out.”
“Talk my ass.” Ji Zhouye lost patience seeing how slow he was. He stood up, grabbed Shen Li’s wrist forcefully, and shoved him down onto the sofa.
Ji Zhouye pinned him down, restraining his hands, pressing him into the couch as he kissed him.
Shen Li’s breathing grew rapid. He didn’t know how much time passed—Ji Zhouye kissed him fiercely.
The evening sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the room.
Even in thirty-plus-degree heat, it couldn’t overpower the chill radiating from the man above him.
Shen Li was kissed until he could barely breathe. He bit down hard on Ji Zhouye’s thin lip, and Ji Zhouye finally pulled back.
Seizing the chance, Shen Li kicked at him. “Ji Zhouye, are you sick? Who kisses people like that?”
Ji Zhouye’s dark mood eased slightly. He rose from Shen Li, raising a brow. “Then how should I kiss you? Teach me.”
Shen Li got up from the sofa and put some distance between himself and this dangerous man. “Ji Zhouye, you’re a full-blown pervert—vulgar and shameless.”
Ji Zhouye’s lips curved into a seductive smile. “Do you need me to help you remember who was begging me to kiss him in bed?”
“Shut up.” A faint flush spread across Shen Li’s cheeks. He grabbed a cushion from the sofa and threw it at Ji Zhouye. “You’re no better yourself.”
Neither of them was any better than the other.
In moments of passion and confusion, the feelings buried deepest in their hearts were all laid bare.
Ji Zhouye took Shen Li’s suitcase, and the two of them left together.
Not long after, news of Jiangqing’s miraculous revival spread like wildfire through the business world.
Everyone had thought Jiangqing was beyond saving, barely holding on in a final struggle. No one expected such a dramatic turnaround overnight.
Though it couldn’t return to its former glory, Jiangqing was now firmly standing its ground again.
People in the business circle speculated endlessly about how powerful Jiangqing’s backing must be, naming every wealthy and influential figure imaginable—yet no one dared guess the JH Group.
Some even claimed Shen Li was being kept.
All kinds of rumors circulated. Shen Li didn’t care and let them speculate as they pleased.
Shengyang Group’s development was decent, but it couldn’t compare to Jiangqing after surviving its crisis.
Sheng Wan had once made things difficult for Shen Li. When Shengyang saw the situation turning bad, their chairman personally came to apologize.
Having seen plenty of such social maneuvering, Shen Li didn’t put on airs or embarrass him. He only said they could consider working together again in the future.
In business, there was little genuine feeling—just acting for the occasion.
Everyone understood that clearly. There was no need to make things ugly, unless you were powerful enough to be like JH, with no shortage of partners.
But Shen Li forgiving them didn’t mean JH did.
Several of Shengyang Group’s major pending contracts fell through, with no one knowing why.
Speculation ran rampant that Jiangqing, having turned the tables, was now retaliating against those who had once tried to suppress them.