Jiang Ye watched him with cold eyes, but the other man only smiled more cheerfully, leaning down to press his lips against Jiang Ye’s. Jiang Ye dodged frantically, throwing a punch to beat him back. Tilting his head to avoid the blow, Jin Feize caught Jiang Ye’s hands in a death grip, pulled a pair of stockings from his trouser pocket, and bound his wrists tight. He pinned Jiang Ye against the wall like a butterfly skewered to a board. Bai Nianci’s room was right next door; faint, indistinct voices drifted through the partition. The soundproofing was abysmal—the slightest noise felt as though it were right at one's ear.
“Careful. Don’t let them hear,” Jin Feize whispered, kissing his earlobe.
“Stay... away... from... me,” Jiang Ye ground out, each word a jagged stone.
Jin Feize turned a deaf ear. “Jiang Ye, you broke your promise. You didn’t reply to my messages, you didn’t answer my calls, you ran away in secret, and you even changed your SIM card. I’m very angry. I have to punish you.”
“Punish me how?” Jiang Ye sneered. “Dismember me? You psychopath.”
Jin Feize pulled a small rubber object from his pocket. Jiang Ye stared at it, his brow furrowing slightly. It was teardrop-shaped, smooth-surfaced, and exquisitely small.
“There’s a satellite tracker inside. No matter where you go, I’ll find you. Don’t even think about destroying it; once I lose your signal, my phone will automatically alert the police.”
Jiang Ye remained expressionless. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll just throw it away?”
“You won’t be able to,” Jin Feize whispered into his ear. “Because I’m going to make you swallow it.”
Swallow it? Something that size—he’d choke to death. What was Jin Feize playing at? A chill washed over Jiang Ye as he looked at the man in disbelief.
Jin Feize dragged Jiang Ye toward the bed. Jiang Ye tried to strike him, but the other man diverted the momentum with a diagonal shift of his weight; Jiang Ye’s punches couldn’t find a solid mark. With a forceful shove against Jiang Ye’s arm, he sent him sprawling into the mattress. The guy seemed to have trained in tai chi; Jiang Ye was simply no match for him. Jin Feize forced him to lie facedown on the bed, pulled out a shoelace, and tied his hands to the headboard.
“Let me go,” Jiang Ye hissed through gritted teeth. “You think I won’t scream?”
“You’re welcome to scream,” Jin Feize said with a beaming smile, “if you want people to see you in this state.”
In a few quick motions, he unbuckled Jiang Ye’s belt and yanked his trousers down, leaving his rear entirely exposed to the air. The full-length mirror stood right by the bed, reflecting Jiang Ye’s cold-white narrow waist and hips. He was a young man who had only recently filled out; his waist was lean and green, his muscles thin—like a stalk of upright bamboo, resilient yet easily snapped. As the cool air hit his skin, Jiang Ye shuddered violently.
Humiliated and enraged, he trembled with fury.
Jiang Ruochu had raised him alone for a long time, so he had learned independence early. He had bathed and dressed himself since the age of five and had never exposed his body to anyone. On the cargo ship, though he had been humiliated once before, he had been unconscious then—a total blackout. This was the first time he was being seen stark naked while fully awake.
Jiang Ye began to compromise, attempting to placate Jin Feize. “I promise. Next time, I’ll definitely keep my word.”
“That won’t do. I said I’d punish you, so I must.” Jin Feize was pitilessly impartial.
Then, Jin Feize opened a bottle of hand cream and began to massage his entry point. Smelling that heavy cherry blossom scent, Jiang Ye realized with sharp clarity what was about to happen. A fire of shame and rage swept through him. It wasn't just his face and neck that flushed crimson; his entire body turned red. He was too sensitive; he jolted at every touch. The people in the "study materials" were either oily-faced or covered in rolls of fat—none of them could compare to Jiang Ye. Jin Feize had initially thought such things were boring, but looking at it now, if it were with Jiang Ye, it might actually be quite good.
He stroked Jiang Ye’s waist as if he were handling a piece of priceless porcelain. An anonymous flame rose in his lower abdomen—this was the thing called "desire." It felt foreign, yet he found it novel.
“Little Ye, you’re so beautiful.”
Jin Feize’s movements were gentle. The mirror reflected his focused eyes, the golden lamplight spilling over his features, making him look incomparably tender and refined. Jiang Ye’s face was completely flushed as he struggled with all his might; Jin Feize held him down by the waist, preventing him from thrashing. Jiang Ye wondered if the man had practiced using those strange study materials of his; though his massage technique was amateurish, it felt comfortable.
Jiang Ye let out an involuntary gasp. When he realized what he’d done, he bit his tongue hard. But even if he remained silent, his physical reactions wouldn't lie.
Jin Feize sighed softly. “You’re so sensitive.”
Jiang Ye’s face instantly burned as if he could boil an egg on it.
“Jin Feize,” Jiang Ye used anger to mask himself, “you lunatic.”
Jin Feize’s grip suddenly tightened. Jiang Ye hissed as a sharp pain lanced through him.
“What was that?” Jin Feize smiled.
Jiang Ye: “...”
Jin Feize looked down to examine him. “The people in the materials... those things are so ugly. Yours looks much better than theirs.”
The man’s wanton words were even more mortifying than his actions. Jiang Ye’s voice was hoarse. “You bastard...”
“I’m complimenting you. Why are you still cursing at me?” Jin Feize’s tone was innocent.
Enduring the shame and pain, Jiang Ye buried his face in the pillow.
“Don’t run away again. No matter where you go, I’ll find you.” Jin Feize kissed the small of his back, making him shudder once more. “Be obedient. If you run again, it won't be a tracker I make you swallow.” He leaned close to his ear and asked, “Are you still going to run?”
Jiang Ye bit his lip hard, refusing to speak.
Jin Feize’s hand moved abruptly. Jiang Ye lurched, and only then did he croak out, “...I won’t run.”
“Give me your word.”
“I give it.” Jiang Ye’s voice was trembling.
Jin Feize broke into a satisfied smile. He sterilized the tracker with alcohol, wiped it clean, and then, with a hand-to-hand, considerate touch, fed it to Jiang Ye. Shivering like a leaf in the autumn wind, Jiang Ye was forced to take the tracker into his mouth and swallow it down bit by bit. Jin Feize patted his back gently, as if soothing a wounded cat. If one ignored these malicious acts, he looked for all the world like a tender lover.
“You look like you’re in such pain,” Jin Feize whispered. “Shall I help you?”
Jiang Ye had no strength left to resist, slumping like a pile of mud in the other man’s warm hands. After an unknown amount of time, the ordeal finally ended. Jiang Ye was a mess, his body covered in traces of the encounter, while Jin Feize remained impeccably dressed and perfectly composed.
Feeling the heat himself, Jin Feize loosened the collar of his sweater, turned Jiang Ye’s head, and kissed those burning lips.
The "little cat" bit him again, but he didn't care, deepening the kiss amid the taste of fresh blood. His blood dripped onto Jiang Ye’s lips, leaving a flame-red stain on his cold-white chin. This was the first time Jin Feize had tasted desire—and it was as sweet as blood.