Shen Yanzhou felt like he was being watched.
This feeling had begun around noon, when he and Shen Xici left the office for lunch. They had chosen a high-end French restaurant known for its privacy. As Shen Yanzhou cut a small piece of steak, that prickling sensation of being observed crawled up his spine. The gaze was aggressive not like the subtle surveillance of business rivals, nor the intrusive voyeurism of paparazzi hiding in cars. He felt as though his custom-tailored suit was completely transparent under that stare.
But when he looked out the window, he saw only the usual flow of red taxis and bustling pedestrians.
“Brother?” Shen Xici noticed his unease. “What’s wrong? Is something the matter?”
“It’s nothing,” Shen Yanzhou replied, suppressing his agitation.
If an A-grade Alpha like Xici couldn’t sense anything, it meant either he was overthinking, or the “rat” hiding in the shadows was a high-level operative, perfectly masking their presence amidst the city’s noise.
The haunting sensation of being watched continued into the afternoon. While Shen Yanzhou was in a hotel lounge, engaged in a smooth negotiation with a portly shipping tycoon, he felt it again. But this time, the vibe of the hidden gaze had shifted from sticky, persistent surveillance to raw, violent possessiveness. He tried to track it, but found nothing.
If this rat is bold enough to stalk me in broad daylight, he’ll naturally be even more rampant at night, Shen Yanzhou reasoned. And he was right.
After work, as he and Shen Xici left the building, the shadow followed. Shen Yanzhou made an excuse to send Xici away and ducked into a narrow, filthy back alley behind the complex.
The alley was filled with the stench of garbage and rotting cardboard. Shen Yanzhou walked slowly, counting the footsteps behind him. The pursuer’s steps were heavy, showing no attempt at stealth like a desperate amateur who hadn’t been in the business for long.
Shen Yanzhou led him in circles until they reached a dead end. He stopped.
The footsteps stopped too. The scorching presence closed in to within half a meter so close he could feel its heat on the back of his neck. Before the person could speak, Shen Yanzhou spun, using the momentum to sweep his right leg back in a vicious strike toward the man’s lower body.
He didn’t hold back. Before his car accident, this kick would have sent an opponent to the hospital for days; now, it was only at thirty or forty percent power. To his surprise, the dark figure didn’t even try to dodge, taking the blow head-on and stumbling backward.
So weak?
Shen Yanzhou was stunned, but he didn’t stop. He grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him against the moss-covered wall. The man seemed to give up instantly, letting his hands hang at his sides.
So cowardly? It seemed his backup plans for bodyguards had been unnecessary.
Shen Yanzhou pinned the man with one hand, clamped his throat with the other, and shoved his knee aggressively between the man’s legs, trapping him in the tight space. Only then, at such close range, did he catch a faint scent of cedarwood.
Wait, Shen Yanzhou thought, this build… this scent…
He pulled back the man’s black hoodie and ripped off his mask. It was his own “little dog.” But the face… it was filthy, covered in grime, with a dark smear on the tip of his nose.
“Three Thousand?”
Pinned against the wall, the man showed no shame at being caught. Instead, he stared at Shen Yanzhou with dark, brilliant eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing under Shen Yanzhou’s hand. He chuckled.
“Master… the way you fought just now… was so handsome.”
Shen Yanzhou coldly released him, brushing the dust off his sleeves. “Stop grinning. Don’t change the subject. You followed me from Central to here and acted like a ghost—what exactly are you trying to do?”
“I wasn’t acting like a ghost.” The man shrank his shoulders, looking aggrieved, and clawed at his messy hair. “I just wanted to find you and tell you something…”
“Tell me what?”
“That claypot rice…” the man stammered, “I tried making it at home, but I couldn’t get the Mong Kok flavor. Either the heat was off or the rice wasn’t fragrant enough.” He looked up, his eyes pleading. “Master, can we take a different route home tonight? Instead of the Cross-Harbour Tunnel, can we walk through Mong Kok?”
Shen Yanzhou looked at his filthy face, dumbfounded. The “assassination threat” that had kept him on edge all afternoon was just a craving for a bowl of rice?
“Is that it?” Shen Yanzhou frowned. “You stalked me like a thief for that?”
The man looked up, his eyes showing a stubborn, obsessive sincerity. “To me, Master, nothing involving you is a small matter.”
Shen Yanzhou turned his head away to avoid that overly intense gaze, his tone softening. “If you wanted to say it, why didn’t you just come over when Xici and I were eating lunch?”
The man pursed his lips, looking hurt. “I felt like your brother doesn’t like me. He despises me. He thinks I’m a low-life just clinging to you.”
“And this afternoon?”
“You were negotiating business. I didn’t want to disturb you. That’s work, and I have to know my place.”
Shen Yanzhou sighed, his gaze falling again on the dark spot on the man’s nose. It was an eyesore. “What’s with your face? Did you go coal mining or fall into a sewer?”
The man touched his face. “I think… it’s the deep-sea mud mask I didn’t wash off before rushing out.” He wiped at it frantically.
“It’s not there. It’s on the left.”
The man swiped left, but instead of cleaning it, he smeared the black mud further, making himself look like a spotted dog.
“You’re such a klutz.”
Shen Yanzhou lost his patience. He stepped forward, reached out with his manicured hand, and gripped the man’s chin to keep him still. With the pad of his thumb, he pressed down on the tip of the man’s nose and rubbed off the dried mud.
It smelled of faint white roses.
The man froze, letting Shen Yanzhou work. His heart hammered in his chest, his throat pulsing, and his eyes crinkled with a hidden, sparkling joy.
“What are you smiling at?” Shen Yanzhou pulled his hand away, took a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped his fingers with disgust. “So dirty.”
“Master is so kind.”
Shen Yanzhou rolled his eyes, tossed the handkerchief into a trash can, and walked toward the alley exit. Seeing no movement behind him, he paused and glanced back. “Still standing there? Don’t you want to go to Mong Kok? Keep up.”
The night at Mong Kok was alive neon signs above, soapy wastewater below. When Shen Yanzhou appeared at the greasy street-side food stall, the eyes of shirtless gamblers and passing gangsters were instinctively drawn to him. He was too stunning, more beautiful than any celebrity on TV.
But when they caught the wolf-like glare of the man sitting opposite him, they quickly retracted their gazes.
“Handsome, what’ll you have?” The owner, a fifty-year-old woman with a permed afro, hurried over. She’d intended to slam the greasy menu onto the table, but seeing Shen Yanzhou’s face, her movements softened instantly.
“Three Thousand, you order.”
The man nodded, speaking fluent Cantonese. “Two claypot beef and egg rice, add Chinese sausage, crispy bottom. A plate of blanched choy sum, no oil. Two iced lemon teas, less sugar, no ice.”
The owner’s eyes lit up, tucking her pen behind her ear. “You know your food! The crispy bottom needs high heat; you don’t mind waiting a bit longer, right?”
“No problem, just make sure it’s fragrant.”
While waiting, the man rinsed their bowls and chopsticks with hot tea, his movements fluid and practiced.
“Has Master been here before?” he asked casually.
Shen Yanzhou didn’t answer, drifting into memories. He hadn’t been here, so how could he remember the taste? But that was a memory from when his parents were still alive. After they passed, aside from work and home, he had never gone anywhere else.
Seeing the silence, the man wisely stopped talking.
Soon, the rice arrived. As the lid was lifted, the aroma of meat and rice exploded. The man drizzled the special sweet soy sauce along the edges of the pot and mixed the semi-cooked egg with the rice.
“It’s ready, Master.”
Shen Yanzhou took a bite. The rice was hot, so he pouted his lips slightly, blowing on the spoon. The steam gathered on his eyelashes, making his eyes look dewy. He chewed carefully, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster eating. He was silent, focused entirely on his food.
He looked… especially endearing.
Three Thousand didn’t touch his own food. He rested his chin on his hand, staring at Shen Yanzhou without blinking, mesmerized by the beads of sweat on his nose.
Shen Yanzhou eventually noticed the silence. He swallowed his food and looked up, meeting the man’s intense, “stringy” gaze. “Why aren’t you eating? Do you have flowers on your face?”
The man’s throat worked, his voice hoarse. “The rice is too hot. I’m afraid of burning my tongue… watching you eat is enough.”
Before he could finish, a loud, hearty laugh erupted from the next table. The owner was topping off tea and couldn’t help but interject. She put her hands on her hips and looked at them, laughing:
“Handsome, let me tell you! He’s not afraid of the heat—he’s just stunned by looking at you!”
The surrounding tables roared with laughter. “I’ve done business here for decades, seen plenty of stars, but someone as stunning as you? Truly the first time. Even this broken chair looks expensive with you sitting on it!”
She pointed at the man, teasing. “No wonder you’re not eating. With a face like that, he’s already full just from looking, isn’t he?”
The man was caught red-handed, but he wasn’t annoyed. He looked at Shen Yanzhou, blushing, and nodded. “Yes, the boss is absolutely right.”
Shen Yanzhou: “…”
He bit his spoon, glared at the man, and kicked him hard under the table. “Shut up and eat.”
Leaving the noisy Mong Kok stall, Shen Yanzhou’s footsteps faltered.
In a dim, dark corner not far away, an inconspicuous black car was parked. Two figures stood by it, whispering. Despite the distance and the gloom, Shen Yanzhou recognized them immediately.
One was his loser brother, Shen Xiuming. The other was his fiancé, Fu Sihan.
Why are these two together so late, in such a place?
He remembered Shen Xici’s report about Xiuming’s sudden change in attitude. Could it be that since Fu Sihan couldn’t get what he wanted through me, he’s now trying to hook up with my useless brother?
Shen Yanzhou narrowed his eyes, his body reacting faster than his mind. He turned sharply and held a finger to his lips, giving Three Thousand a stern “shush” gesture.
“Shh.”
Three Thousand blinked, understood instantly, and pressed himself silently against Shen Yanzhou’s back, his breathing barely audible.
The two men didn’t stay long. Having reached some agreement, they walked toward a quieter, deeper alley. Shen Yanzhou followed, moving with extreme caution, avoiding puddles and controlling the sound of his footsteps.
In the dark, he could only catch fragments of their conversation: “City North plot,” “attitude over there,” “handle it ASAP.”
Shen Yanzhou followed them tighter. Just as they were about to round the next corner, Shen Xiuming stopped.
“Who’s there?” Xiuming whipped around, staring into the dark alley.
Damn it.
Shen Yanzhou hadn’t disguised himself, and his silver hair was a beacon in the dark whenever any stray light hit it. He could feel Xiuming’s gaze sweeping toward his hiding spot.
No way to hide. Time to face them.
Suddenly, a rush of heat surged from behind. Before Shen Yanzhou could react, a pair of strong arms grabbed his waist and yanked him into a dead-end side alley barely wide enough for one person.
Fearing the uneven wall would hurt his delicate charge, the man pressed his hand against the wall behind Shen Yanzhou’s head and leaned down over him.
All light was instantly extinguished.
The man’s oversized black hoodie fell over them, wrapping Shen Yanzhou’s striking silver hair and half his startled face completely inside his embrace.
Shen Yanzhou started to struggle, but his chin was clamped firmly by the man’s strong hand, forcing his head up.
“Mmph—!”
Two hot, desperate lips pressed down without a word.
Shen Yanzhou widened his eyes. The man gazed back at him, eyes innocent, as if saying, Master, you don’t want them to find you here, do you?
Looks like I have no choice.
His eyes were tender, but the kiss was fierce and deep. His tongue pried open Shen Yanzhou’s teeth, invading his mouth, hooking his tongue, and swirling in a reckless, suction-filled dance. In the darkness, there was only the sound of their ragged, mingled breathing and the wet, maddeningly intimate noise of their lips and tongues locked together.
The man was too tall. To hide Shen Yanzhou fully, he shielded his head with one hand, his fingers tangling deep into his hair, while his other hand slowly moved to Shen Yanzhou’s waist, kneading it intentionally.
Shen Yanzhou felt the air being greedily stolen from his lungs. The dizziness from oxygen deprivation left him unsteady, his fingers subconsciously clutching the man’s clothes.
At the mouth of the alley, Shen Xiuming’s footsteps stopped.
Shen Yanzhou’s breath hitched. Sensing his rigidity, the man didn’t pull back; instead, he ground his teeth against Shen Yanzhou’s swollen lower lip, kissing him even more fiercely and shamelessly.
Shen Xiuming stared into the abyss of darkness for a moment. He could only vaguely make out two silhouettes entangled, the man’s large frame almost swallowing the other person whole, their posture intimate to the point of obscenity, as if they couldn’t wait to perform the act.
The air seemed thick with the sweet, cloying scent of lust.
Shen Xiuming frowned and threw out a cold comment:
“I didn’t expect people to choose this kind of place… to make out.”