Ten minutes later, Liang Jiming stood up and knocked on the master bedroom door.
Yao Zhen pulled the door open just a crack, blocking the entrance and asking crossly, “What?”
Liang Jiming’s tone was casual. “Ready for dinner?”
Yao Zhen thought for a moment. “Order room service. I don’t want to go back downstairs.”
“What do you want to eat?” Liang Jiming asked.
“Whatever,” the Young Master tossed out before a loud bang signaled the door closing again.
Ah, he’s shy.
Liang Jiming turned away unbothered to call room service.
Yao Zhen collapsed back onto his bed, headphones still over his ears. He didn’t hear a single word of the shouting and killing from the game’s background audio. His mind kept replaying Liang Jiming’s half-hidden profile amidst the swirling smoke from earlier. He raised his hands and slapped his burning cheeks hard.
This is bad. How could he be seduced by that dog man’s looks? Did he have no moral bottom line left?!
The Young Master squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force Liang Jiming’s face out of his head, desperately attempting to recall Shen Jinghe’s gentle and moving smile.
I’m straight. I have someone I like. I would never let an annoying bastard get to me just because he’s attractive—
I won’t. Absolutely not!
Half an hour passed before Liang Jiming knocked again.
“Dinner is here. Come out and eat.”
Yao Zhen dragged himself out and sat at the dining table, still wearing his headphones and staring down at a mobile game. A hand reached out toward his ear; Yao Zhen jerked his head away with lightning speed.
Liang Jiming watched him.
Realizing he had overreacted, Yao Zhen felt like dying of embarrassment. He forced himself to snap, “What are you doing now?”
Liang Jiming took off the headphones, snatched the phone, swiped it black, and flipped it face-down on the table. “Focus on eating. No phones.”
Yao Zhen grumbled irritably, “You’re not my dad. Why do you care so much?”
“I’m your wife,” Liang Jiming replied smoothly. “You said so yourself.”
Yao Zhen: “…”
You really are something.
But this Young Master doesn’t want to be henpecked, okay!
He silently picked up his chopsticks and started eating without a word.
Liang Jiming served him some soup and said conversationally, “I’ve discussed the next theme with Manager Huang for after the jewelry exhibition. We can follow up with a fragrance exhibition. The one in Wangcheng last time was quite good; we could invite some famous perfumers to participate. The hotel can launch different fragrance-themed suites and activities, providing priority rights for VIPs and Yacht Club members, just like we did for the jewelry.”
Yao Zhen said, “The jewelry exhibition just started. Is it really necessary to plan the next one so soon?”
“Strike while the iron is hot,” Liang Jiming explained. “Besides, the preparation time for this jewelry show was too short and everything was rushed. There are still many details we didn’t coordinate well. Starting the next theme early will allow us to do a better job.”
Yao Zhen was speechless.
He could never understand a perfectionist, career-driven workaholic. A man like Liang Jiming would succeed in any industry; being tricked into doing “black labor” here was truly a waste of talent.
“Is that okay?” Liang Jiming asked.
“You handle it. If you think it’s okay, it’s okay,” the Young Master said, feeling a bit guilty.
“Mhm,” Liang Jiming nodded, then added, “Regarding the beach rock party this Saturday and Sunday nights—I won’t have much time to keep an eye on it. Since you like these kinds of activities, pay more attention and oversee it personally.”
Yao Zhen shook his head. “Those are routine hotel activities. Manager Huang and his team can handle them.”
“Young Master,” Liang Jiming reminded him, “We’ve invited famous bands this time, and the scale of the promotion is different. A lot of people will show up. You should put some heart into making the event a success. Is it really fun huddling in your room playing games every day?”
Being stared down, Yao Zhen felt himself go numb. “…Got it.”
Liang Jiming pushed the soup bowl toward him. “Eat.”
Yao Zhen took it, then suddenly asked, “That cigarette… where did you buy it?”
“You’re not allowed to smoke them,” Liang Jiming shut the idea down immediately. “Don’t ask.”
Using it once in a while to tease the Young Master was fine—like a cat teaser toy—but giving it to him too often would take the fun out of it.
Yao Zhen’s foot kicked out under the table.
Liang Jiming remained unmoved, reaching out to press down on the Young Master’s knee. “Be good.”
“…”
Yao Zhen went silent.
This was truly impossible to resist.
Over the next two days, the Young Master actually put in some real work, personally overseeing the party preparations. This event was unlike any before—a famous local rock band had been booked, and the turnout was expected to reach the thousands, rivaling a small-scale concert. From the early promotion to the day-of site setup, stage equipment, and logistics, every stage burned through money. Yao Zhen approved the funds without a second thought; if he was going to make a splash, he was going to make a tidal wave.
Saturday arrived in a flash, and the party kicked off exactly at 7:00 PM as night fell. Music, drumbeats, bonfires, and beer—the restlessness in the air was instantly ignited, reaching a fever pitch.
Liang Jiming arrived halfway through the set. Standing at the edge of the crowd, he spotted Yao Zhen up ahead, clearly having the time of his life. The Young Master was wearing a flashy printed shirt that accentuated his lean waist, with jeans rolled up casually to his ankles. Barefoot in the sand, he was busy learning how to play the congas from someone. The light from the bonfire danced across his face, radiating a wild, unbridled joy.
Liang Jiming watched him in silence for a long time, his heart rising and falling with every movement the other man made.
Yao Zhen seemed to sense it. He suddenly looked up and, through the shifting crowd, locked onto Liang Jiming’s gaze with surgical precision. Then, the Young Master smiled—a pure, brilliant, and exceptionally vivid smile. He raised his drumstick and gave a phantom tap in Liang Jiming’s direction.
Liang Jiming felt that tap land squarely against his ribs, sending a wave of chaotic tremors through him. He snatched a beer from a passing waiter’s tray. The icy liquid slid down his throat, but it did nothing to douse the strange fire burning in his chest.
Yao Zhen tossed the drumsticks aside, slipped on his sandals, and fought his way through the surge of people to get to his side.
“Wife! When did you get here? Why are you hiding all the way back here?”
Liang Jiming looked at that radiant face under the firelight and said nothing.
Yao Zhen leaned in close, grinning. “Talk to me. Why are you ignoring me?”
They were too close. If Liang Jiming didn’t know better—if he wasn’t aware of the Young Master’s thoughtless, carefree nature—he would have been certain it was intentional. With that beautiful, beaming face right in front of him, Liang Jiming felt his gaze burn and had to look away.
He took another sip of beer, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “Just finished work. Thought I’d come see. It was too crowded up front, so I didn’t want to go in.”
On stage, the musicians were singing with raw passion; around them, the crowd was in a frenzy. In a setting like this, Liang Jiming felt utterly out of place.
Yao Zhen couldn’t stand his stiff, serious demeanor and was determined to make him let loose. He swiped the beer cup from Liang Jiming’s hand, downed the remaining half in one go, set the empty cup back on a tray, and grabbed Liang Jiming’s hand to drag him back into the crowd. “We’re going to the front.”
Liang Jiming had no choice but to follow as Yao Zhen pulled him toward the loudest, most crowded area. They stopped near the stage, surrounded by people swaying to the rhythm while multicolored spotlights swept over their heads.
The Young Master laughed and bumped his shoulder against Liang Jiming’s. “Look at how many people are here! Isn’t it more than you expected? Manager Huang keeps saying the rooms are overbooked—we’re practically giving business to our competitors.”
The music was so loud that Yao Zhen had to lean into his ear to speak; otherwise, he’d have to scream. Liang Jiming tilted his head slightly, not really focusing on what Yao Zhen was saying. His eyes traveled slowly over the curve of the younger man’s lips and his laughing eyes.
Yao Zhen pushed him. “Stop staring at me.”
But at that moment, all Liang Jiming could think was: He really is good-looking. He had always known the Young Master was attractive, but that night was the first time he truly felt the impact of that beauty. Since Yao Zhen insisted on being this close and he couldn’t escape it, he decided he might as well get his fill.
Besides, their relationship was what it was. He was allowed to look, wasn’t he? They were lovers. The kind who had slept together.
Perhaps it was the oppressive heat of the beach, or the thick scent of hormones in the air, or maybe it was just that touch of alcohol. This realization surfaced with startling clarity, sending a secret surge of excitement through him. He even felt a flash of resentment toward himself for forgetting—he wanted to savor the memory now, but he had nothing to recall.
The performance reached its climax. The “Kiss Cam” interactive segment pushed the atmosphere to a breaking point. As the camera panned across the crowd, screams and whistles erupted every time a couple appeared on the giant LED screen and shared a passionate kiss.
Then, the lens captured them. The surrounding crowd broke into waves of cheers and wolf-whistles. The band’s drums kicked in to egg them on.
Yao Zhen froze, staring blankly at the two faces that had suddenly appeared on the screen. From somewhere in the crowd, someone yelled in Chinese: “Kiss him!”
The Young Master finally snapped out of it, turning his head stiffly to look at Liang Jiming. Liang Jiming was looking back. In the thick of the night, his eyes held a dark, heavy emotion that Yao Zhen didn’t understand—an emotion that made him instinctively want to run.
But Liang Jiming didn’t give him the chance. He moved first, wrapping an arm around Yao Zhen’s waist to pull him flush against him. He tilted his head and kissed him.
Yao Zhen’s eyes snapped wide open.
This was no longer a tentative probe; Liang Jiming’s kiss was passionate, wild, and came with the force of a tidal wave.
As his lips were bitten, Yao Zhen let out a muffled groan of pain, instinctively parting his lips. Liang Jiming’s tongue took the opportunity to force its way inside. Tongues clashed and breaths tangled; Yao Zhen couldn’t even manage a reaction. The only thing he could perceive was the wet, hot, and cloying sensation as the other man’s tongue pushed in, swirling around his own to suck, lick, and grind against it.
This was a kiss of true, unadulterated intimacy.
A French kiss.
Liang Jiming’s scent flooded his senses with overwhelming dominance. Yao Zhen quickly found himself unable to breathe; his heart hammered wildly, his gasps grew shallow, and he could only watch helplessly as his breath was plundered.
It wasn’t until Liang Jiming raised a hand to cover his panicked, lost eyes that the world finally vanished. Yao Zhen’s eyelashes fluttered helplessly, sweeping repeatedly against the warm palm pressed over them.
The kiss continued. Finally, as if waking from a dream, his reason flickered back to life amidst the blackout-inducing frenzy.
Aaaargh!!
What the hell did this dog man just shove into my mouth?!!