In front of his mother and eldest brother, Meng Lingyao finally acted like a child, sharing the things that made him happy.
“They are still your second uncle and uncle-in-law after all; don’t call them directly by their names. It doesn’t sound good if someone hears.”
Meng Lingyao curled his lip, his tone sarcastic. “What kind of relatives are they? They’re more like mortal enemies.”
“I know, Mom. Don’t worry, I know what to do. The Qi Group helping us is one thing, but this is another.”
“I’m borrowing the influence of the Qi Group as a matter of course. That guy Qi Zhongjing did that kind of thing; this is the price I’m making him pay.” Meng Lingyao said this last part extremely quietly. Lin Qingwan didn’t hear a thing; she only saw her younger son muttering something and assumed his stubborn temper was flaring up in a dissatisfied mumble, so she didn’t press further.
Because he had to accompany the so-called “guest,” Meng Lingyao was shooed away after a short stay. He checked on his brother—whose condition remained neither better nor worse—said a few words, and left. Upon returning to his room, he went straight to wash up.
As for the guest? Please just go ahead and perish on your own.
After all, he was a guest who had forced himself to stay; there would be no special treatment here.
Yes, that was his “service attitude.”
…
Having just finished a bath, Meng Lingyao had a bath towel wrapped around his waist. His wet hair was still dripping, topped casually with a small towel. He looked like a soaking-wet “little milk dog.”
In his own home, he was naturally much more at ease, free from the constant discomfort he felt at the Qi residence.
The air felt fresher; it was peaceful and free.
Comfortable! Meng Lingyao snapped his fingers, planning to have a small glass of wine before resting.
Knock, knock…
Just as he stepped out of the bathroom, clutching a towel to dry his hair, the steam from his body hadn’t yet dissipated. His skin was flushed a deep pink from the soak, and since his complexion was naturally pale, he now looked like a freshly ripened peach.
There was a knock on the bedroom door.
“Who is it?” he shouted toward the door, walking over without the slightest guard.
After all, what danger could there be in his own home?
In response to his question, the person knocking—whether they heard him or ignored him on purpose—continued to knock without changing the frequency.
He pulled the door open impatiently. “Are you trying to knock my soul out in the middle of the night? What do you want! If you have something to say, wait until tomorrow… or not…”
The impatient expression was still plastered on his face when he saw the tall figure standing at the door, barely an arm’s length away. The man’s arm was slightly raised, still in the posture of knocking.
Qi Zhongjing! No surprises there!
“What?”
“Lingyao, it’s still quite early. Do you want to have a casual… chat? Talk about life, ideals, poetry, or…” Before he could finish the last word, Qi Zhongjing, who had been wearing a genial smile, was met with an incredibly high-impact scene.
Gulp… Instinctively, he swallowed hard. His breath hitched.
So… so beautiful… so impactful…
He clearly hadn’t expected such a massive “surprise” to be waiting for him.
He had had countless lingering dreams, and the Meng Lingyao in those dreams was exactly like this. That pale skin flushed with red looked as if it would break with a single touch, leaving behind ambiguous marks.
The other’s crimson lips glistened with moisture. Under the hazy lamplight, sparkling droplets of water slid down that enticing torso from the neck, disappearing into hidden corners.
The beauty of the sight made him afraid to touch it, for fear that it was just a fragile, lingering dream.
Meng Lingyao glared impatiently, not realizing anything was wrong at first, but he reacted quickly.
He saw Qi Zhongjing’s glazed stare—a gaze that, following his line of sight, became burning hot, as if it wanted to swallow him whole. Meng Lingyao looked down and saw his bare chest.
Then, he looked further down, and his eyes landed on a place that could not be ignored.
Qi Zhongjing had already washed up. The house had prepared bathrobes for guests. Qi Zhongjing’s build was similar to his brother’s—both in the tall and handsome category. He had likely taken one of his brother’s new robes. The man looked incredibly “showy,” with his robe half-open to reveal his chest.
But the focus wasn’t there. It was below. Under Meng Lingyao’s gaze, there was a visible movement from flat to bulging.
In his vision, it was like slow motion—like a flower bud opening until it was in full bloom. Every frame of that movement fell into his eyes.
Meng Lingyao was a man, a normal man.
He knew exactly what that reaction represented. He snapped his head up, meeting a gaze filled with raw desire.
Gulp… As if the scene wasn’t heated enough, the man swallowed again; he saw the Adam’s apple bob.
“You’re despicable!” Meng Lingyao’s brain went numb. With a sudden roar of anger, he slammed the door shut with a Bang!
The sound of the door slamming finally brought Qi Zhongjing—who had been struck over the head by the sudden surprise—back to his senses. By the time he looked again, the door was tightly shut.
It was as if the scene from a moment ago was just a fantasy of his own mind.
His hand was still raised in the knocking gesture.
He let out a long breath. The heart in his chest was beating violently, as if it had lost control. His head was spinning, and a wave of heat rushed to his face.
It took a while to calm down before Qi Zhongjing thought of Meng Lingyao’s reaction. “Lingyao, let me explain…”
He instinctively said the sentence most men are accustomed to saying.
“Lingyao? Lingyao, open the door. Listen to me…” Qi Zhongjing rubbed his nose while calling out, but the image from a moment ago uncontrollably surfaced in his mind.
Truly beautiful.
…
Meng Lingyao dragged a bathrobe out of his walk-in closet, wrapped himself up tightly, and reopened the door with a cold face, his eyes literally spitting fire.
“You’d better have a good reason for this.”
“Ahem…” Once the door actually opened, Qi Zhongjing found himself momentarily speechless.
Meng Lingyao didn’t look at Qi Zhongjing’s face. Instead, he immediately noticed the “flag” that was still as conspicuous as a red banner.
He wanted to snap it off.
A piece of trash that raises its flag regardless of the occasion—truly a lowly thing.
The look in his eyes made Qi Zhongjing’s lower abdomen tighten.
He took two steps back. “Lingyao…”
Meng Lingyao tugged at his collar, wrapping his neck even more tightly. “Speak.”
“That was an accident,” Qi Zhongjing said softly, his voice lacking confidence.
Meng Lingyao said nothing, his gaze fixed on Qi Zhongjing’s lower half. His eyes were dangerously sharp.
The desire to “snap it off” intensified.
“I’m a normal man,” Qi Zhongjing explained.
The meaning was clear: He was a normal man, so having a reaction was normal.
A normal man? I’ll make sure you’re no longer a normal man and just change your profession to a eunuch!
“Heh heh.” Qi Zhongjing’s words received a two-word “friendly donation” from Meng Lingyao.
Fine. Qi Zhongjing felt a mysterious sense of guilt, but he couldn’t show it—especially with Meng Lingyao’s dangerous gaze lingering on that unmentionable place.
“Something wrong?” Meng Lingyao didn’t want to stay in this standoff. After all, every word he spoke and every expression he maintained now was a waste of his precious life.
What right did Qi Zhongjing have to waste his valuable time?
Is he worthy? No!!!
Qi Zhongjing’s main goal had been to come up and talk to Meng Lingyao about “life and ideals,” then “go with the flow” and sleep with his dear wife.
But the surprise today had short-circuited his brain, making him forget his original purpose.
“I wanted to talk to you…” Qi Zhongjing said, behaving obediently and cautiously.
“Oh? I didn’t know President Qi had the habit of ‘pitching a tent’ while looking for a chat.” Meng Lingyao sneered, his eyes full of mockery. “Not talking.”
“It’s a normal physiological response.” Qi Zhongjing had become calm now; things were already like this, they couldn’t get much worse.
He watched Meng Lingyao’s expression, carefully choosing his words.
What a “normal physiological response.” Meng Lingyao narrowed his eyes and held up two fingers.
“President Qi, I’ll give you two choices. One: immediately become a ‘human’ again. I only talk to humans.” Meng Lingyao smiled, his subtext clear: calling Qi Zhongjing a male dog in heat. He continued slowly and fiercely, “Two: I’ll help you snap it off and restore you to normal. Don’t worry, I have a ‘magic touch’; I’ll restore you to your ‘original’ state in an instant.”
“Which one do you choose?”
I don’t want to choose either, Qi Zhongjing thought.
Since both were impossible choices, he was truly in a bind.
“I choose the third one…”
“Oh, then there’s nothing to talk about.” Meng Lingyao raised an eyebrow. “In that case, President Qi had better get some rest early. Don’t wander around for no reason. My house isn’t some place for you to mark your territory at will.”
Tonight, perhaps due to the sudden stimulation, Meng Lingyao’s tongue was particularly venomous, returning to his old sharp-tongued self.
Seeing that he was about to close the door, Qi Zhongjing stuck his foot out to block it. “I thought about it… I’ll choose the first one.”
“However, let’s talk inside. People are coming and going; what if someone sees?”
“There’s no need. This isn’t the side of the road. Where are all these ‘people’? I act upright and have nothing to fear. You might have a habit of wandering into people’s bedrooms, President Qi, but I don’t have the habit of letting people wander into mine.” Meng Lingyao gave a fake smile. “Or perhaps President Qi has done too many things that can’t see the light of day, so you have to hide.”
He even clapped his hands and tilted his head at Qi Zhongjing. “Please, begin your performance.”
Under Meng Lingyao’s burning gaze, the wicked fire in Qi Zhongjing’s heart only burned more fiercely; it wouldn’t subside.
That rising heat was like adding firewood to a flame, burning brighter.
Qi Zhongjing: “…”
Meng Lingyao leaned against the doorframe, waiting for Qi Zhongjing’s “performance.” If conditions allowed, he’d have liked to bring out a small stool or a lounge chair to drink tea and eat sunflower seeds while watching.
He couldn’t. A man can’t say “he can’t.”
But this time, Qi Zhongjing admitted, he really couldn’t.
It was impossible.
Facing his dear wife’s direct gaze, he only wanted to ravage, not to appease.
It was pure torture.
Wickedness rose from his heart—things were already like this anyway.
“Hoo…” Qi Zhongjing’s breathing grew heavy. His brow furrowed slightly as if he were enduring some kind of torment.
The situation was developing in a bizarre direction. Meng Lingyao, with his arms crossed, watched as things got serious—and then he pulled out his phone.
His rival’s predicament made his anger vanish instantly; now there was only the joy of gloating. He wanted to record the other’s embarrassment.
He suddenly became quite cheerful.
Meng Lingyao’s eyes crinkled into a smile, failing to notice the change in Qi Zhongjing’s gaze.
As the saying goes: Don’t provoke a male dog in heat.
Meng Lingyao just loved to tease, and this was clearly going to lead to trouble.
He opened the camera and clicked the record button, but before his finger could press down, everything went dark and the scene changed.
He was suddenly pulled forward. The door was kicked shut. He was pinned against the wall, his waist held in a death-grip, and a head was buried in the crook of his neck.
“Haa—” Qi Zhongjing took a deep breath. The scent of body wash on Meng Lingyao carried a faint, woody fragrance. It was pleasant and refreshing.
So fragrant.