So hot now. Who gave you permission to touch me?
Si Yu stepped on He Yun’s hand.
Only I can touch you, understand?
Si Yu looked on with satisfaction as He Yun once again placed both hands behind his back.
He Yun possessed the tall, broad frame characteristic of Westerners, every inch of his muscle slicked with a light sheen of sweat, sensual as an ancient Greek sculpture.
Especially when he knelt on both knees.
Earlier, He Yun could still hold his torso straight, stubbornly trying to coax a kiss from Si Yu.
But now, sitting back with his spine remaining straight, his knees were bent into an expression of devout reverence.
This posture made the muscle contours and bulging veins on his thighs stand out sharply, resembling a surging river.
He looked like he knew what he was doing.
This was the conclusion Si Yu reached after scrolling through all of He Yun’s social media accounts.
He Yun was dressed in black ski gear, his skis planted in the snow as he stood with his arms crossed over his chest, one hand giving a thumbs-up.
A pair of wide ski goggles rested on his forehead, beneath which lay the deep-set brow ridge of a Westerner paired with the refined black eyes of an Easterner, carrying a smile just like the slight upward curve of his lips.
His casual posture and expression made it look as though conquering the perilous snow-capped peak of Schilthorn, where James Bond had almost met his end, was nothing more than a walk in the park for him.
Very showy, but undeniably handsome.
During the rowing race between Hanford and Eton College to raise charitable donations for the Children’s Foundation, He Yun’s powerful, sculpted arms were impossible to ignore.
Every splash of water kicked up by his oars rushed eagerly toward his arms, pectoral muscles, and abs.
Yet when he bent down to lift a child out of a wheelchair, those same arms appeared effortlessly gentle, mirroring the mild warmth overflowing from his gaze.
Very sexy, exceptionally sexy.
Taking off his clothes was sexy, kneeling on both knees was sexy, and even when enduring the edge-of-control torment Si Yu inflicted upon him, biting his thin lips and refusing to beg for mercy, he was sexier still.
Si Yu loved this version of He Yun.
However, a broken rule demanded punishment.
In the quiet, lingering night, He Yun’s silent plea resembled tinder drawing close to a candlewick; with just the slightest touch, it caught fire and burned along the straight, dark wick.
Si Yu reached out and crushed it once more.
Extinguished.
Ignited.
Lacking flame or light, yet capable of consuming the entire bitter winter.
He Yun didn’t sleep a wink all night.
Because Si Yu had lain in his arms just as he always did, yet he himself had not.
It wasn’t until the eastern horizon grew pale that He Yun’s body finally quieted down, allowing his eyes to drift closed.
Baby?
He Yun bolted upright, paying no mind to the instinctual fire reigniting within him after being suppressed all night long.
Throwing on a bathrobe, he padded barefoot across the room, shoving open every door in sight.
Finally, he stepped into the walk-in closet and found a solitary suitcase sitting there.
There wasn’t one belonging to Si Yu.
Si Yu was gone.
Not like that time back in Eastbourne when he would turn up in the hotel corridor and tell him he had just gone back to his room.
He had truly, genuinely left him.
He Yun sat down hard on the hardwood floor of the walk-in closet, his hand clutching his phone dangling limply at his side.
The screen was lit up, displaying a stolen photo taken by a fan who had spotted Si Yu on a train bound for Rome.
Hello.
Si Yu!
After god knows how many attempts, Si Yu finally answered.
He Yun had prepared countless things to say, but not a single word would pass his lips, neither apologies nor pleas to stay.
Finally, upon hearing Si Yu’s dissatisfied click of the tongue, he managed to force the words out.
You said, you said you wouldn’t leave without a word. He Yun grabbed a handful of his hair, repeating it once more. You said so, you said you would.
Silence stretched from the other end of the line.
He Yun’s heart was squeezed tight once again; how desperately he longed to hear Si Yu’s voice.
Whether it was stubborn denial refusing to admit fault, or a harsh scolding directed at him, anything was better than this agonizing silence.
Yes, I did say that.
He Yun’s heart found a fleeting moment to draw breath.
Si Yu, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have interfered in your affairs without permission. It was wrong of me. Can you please not be angry? Please don’t leave me.
He Yun, do you remember what you once said?
He Yun held his breath, waiting quietly.
It seems like the moment anything goes slightly against your wishes, you’ll just flick your pretty tail and run far away.
Closing his eyes in agony, He Yun called out to him in a hoarse whisper: Si Yu…
You were completely right.
Si Yu hung up the phone.
The Mediterranean had held off the winter chill all season long, only for it to wash over He Yun’s entire body at this very moment.
Brother Si Yu, won’t you eat something?
Nie Shuang approached Si Yu with a tray, treading as carefully as possible.
It’s a perfume commercial, not a weight-loss pill. I’m allowed to eat.
Si Yu let out a huff, remaining seated on the stone steps as he gazed out at the bustling Rome streetscape.
Propping his chin in his hand, he muttered, His Imperial Concubine is missing, this ruler has no appetite to eat.
Nie Shuang straightened up and asked, Didn’t you just get off the train? All things considered, it’s only been three hours.
Every second drags like a year.
Wobbling slightly to his feet, Si Yu patted the shoulder of Nie Shuang, who had engaged in a mutual high school crush with his current wife, successfully transitioned into dating in college, tied the knot right after graduation, and had never tasted a single bitter drop of true romance.
I’m going upstairs to sleep.
Ah, oh, okay.
Right.
As Si Yu grabbed the handrail of the staircase, he spun a full 360 degrees on the spot.
Tell the security downstairs, if anyone comes by claiming to be my assistant, let him go right up.
Little Feng? Little Feng didn’t come on this trip… Nie Shuang snapped back to realization. He Yun is coming?
Si Yu nodded.
Do you need me to go out and welcome Her Majesty the Queen?
No need, I don’t know when he’s getting here.
Shouldn’t you ask him?
Can’t reach him, I just dumped him.
Nie Shuang froze stiff where he stood.
Though he couldn’t make heads or tails of it, he followed instructions anyway.
Moments later, he received an even more baffling message:
[President Shen: Have He Yun call me.]
Nie Shuang: …
[Nie Shuang: President Shen, I don’t have He Yun’s contact info.]
[President Shen: Isn’t He Yun in Rome?]
[Nie Shuang: No.]
Shen Que paused for a fraction of a second, lowering his pen.
President Shen, what is it?
Asked the woman sitting across from him.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shen Que let out a sigh. I’m sorry, Dr. Yang. I’ll give you that psychologist’s contact info; can you reach out and communicate with him directly on your end?
The woman shook her head and said, That involves patient privacy. No psychologist with professional ethics would accept private outreach from me.
Shen Que nodded.
Sorry to disturb you.
Stepping into his car, he began flipping through Kyle Bernal’s resume once more.
Every single one of Si Yu’s social media accounts had once been managed by him.
Not long after Si Yu sent that direct message to Kyle, he had pieced together the entire sequence of events.
I actually thought this He Yun might finally manage to accomplish something for once, Shen Que slammed his fist hard against the steering wheel. More trouble than he’s worth.
A long line of luxury cars had backed up at the exit of the office building’s parking garage.
Suddenly, the lead luxury car slammed on its brakes, drawing irritated complaints from the drivers behind.
Yet Shen Que, despite the chorus of furious honking surrounding him, looked positively delighted.
He wasn’t Rome?
He should have realized it sooner; no matter how much Si Yu liked him, he would never tolerate anyone meddling in his personal affairs.
With a smile, Shen Que put the car in drive and merged into the glittering, twilight-lit streets of Jiangcheng.
Brighten the lights a bit more, we need them to match Si Yu’s pace.
Make sure the camera is locked tightly on his shedding accessories and clothing.
Who picked this tie for Si Yu?! Matte is a no-go, switch it to silk!
The water in the bathtub isn’t blue enough, adjust the tone again. It has to look sparkling and crystal-clear by tomorrow!
…
So noisy.
Si Yu murmured an apology to the makeup artist, lowering his head to rub his temples.
Indoor sets are always like this. Here, have some water, bro.
Nie Shuang handed over a cup of warm water and began fanning Si Yu to keep him cool.
December.
Si Yu took a small sip of water, a trace of color finally returning to his unpainted lips.
Nie Shuang offered a dry chuckle and set aside the script he had been using as a fan.
He knew Si Yu hadn’t been in a good state these past few days; every evening he could be found standing in the living room, staring quietly at the front door as if waiting for someone to push it open and walk in.
Too afraid to bring it up, he clumsily cast around for a new topic of conversation.
Hey, Brother Si Yu, how come this perfume commercial is styled like… well, it just feels weirdly erotic.
With his eyes closed, Si Yu let the makeup artist sweep a layer of highlighter across his collarbones.
Robert Green once said…
Perfume ads are meant to create a tangible, wonderful fantasy for consumers.
Si Yu opened his eyes, looking at the person who had interrupted him and smoothly finished his sentence on his own.
With an air of flamboyant swagger, the man wore nothing more than a black leather jacket in the dead of winter, with a graffiti-patterned tank top underneath, and carried a motorcycle helmet along with a white paper bag in his hand.
He came to a halt beside the vanity table, folding his arms across his chest and looking down at Si Yu with a teasing grin.
Just leave the takeout at the door.
Si Yu shot him a sideways glance.
The man blinked in surprise for a second before breaking into a smile.
It really is for you, he said, placing the paper bag onto the vanity. Though it’s not takeout. It’s a rare, one-of-a-kind vintage piece I just managed to hunt down.
Seeing that Si Yu didn’t even bother lifting an eyelid, the man finally caught the vibe of the room and introduced himself.
I’m Ye Ming, the photographer for Group B.
Si Yu let out a flat hm.
The next instant, accompanied by gasps from the makeup artist and Nie Shuang, the swivel chair Si Yu was sitting in was spun halfway around with a sudden, forceful jerk.
Si Yu opened his eyes to find the man leaning in close, bracing his weight against the armrests.
Si Yu, you’re stunning, Ye Ming’s gaze dropped to Si Yu’s open collar. But if you don’t trust me, there’s no way I can capture your most beautiful side.
Wild, domineering, like a party hitman who might ride a motorcycle down a Brooklyn street, light up a cigarette, and laughingly tell you to hop on the back.
Oh? Si Yu sneered. Is that so?
Of course, I—cough!
Si Yu lashed out, catching him squarely in the chest with a kick that sent the swivel chair spinning away out of his grasp.
Watching Si Yu stretch out a foot to halt the sliding chair while looking down at him with utter disdain, Ye Ming caught his breath.
You really do have to be talented to make me look ugly.
Ye Ming stood frozen in place, only snapping out of it when Si Yu stood up and walked away.
This is getting interesting.
Ye Ming smiled to himself.
The shoot went smoothly.
Whether it was the cool, fleeting glance Si Yu cast beneath the lens, or the accessories slipping from his body and dropping onto the marble floor one by one with every step he took, everything combined to form a flawless fusion of icy detachment and raw temptation characteristic of the brand’s gender-neutral scent.
The jacket, the watch, the tie… I dare anyone to look at this and not wonder just how far Si Yu is going to strip down by the end!!!
The camera work is insanely good. Because these are all items worn right against Si Yu’s skin, they’re saturated with his scent. Even when discarded, they completely steal your gaze.
Right? And the photographer is insanely hot too! I feel like his chest muscles are about to rip right through his shirt!
The chemistry is off the charts, the behind-the-scenes footage is going to break the internet!
Nie Shuang clutched his head in silent agony, not because what they were saying was wrong, but because it was entirely, painfully accurate.
He could already picture how many times Shen Que would mentally murder him with his glare the moment he saw the final cut.
Seductive. It was bone-deep, unapologetic seduction.
The final shot of the day’s filming was set to be Si Yu walking into a master bedroom through a set of double wooden doors, standing near the threshold as he unbuttoned his shirt from behind.
Just as Nie Shuang was starting to clasp his hands together in a silent prayer of thank goodness he isn’t stripping all the way naked, he heard Ye Ming, the director of photography, speak up.
Not enough. Ye Ming turned his head to look at the director. Not powerful enough.
You’re the one who shot that critically acclaimed women’s fragrance ad for Ingrid Tatel last time. Got any good suggestions?
Strip.
A single word, dropped with the weight of a hammer.