Yao Zhen didn’t sleep well all night. He was plagued by messy dreams. He dreamed of the “dog man” and Shen Jinghe—how they looked at each other with deep affection, embraced, and drew close.
In the dream, as a bystander, he watched helplessly, shouting at the top of his lungs: “Jinghe Jie, let him go! He’s no good!”
The next second, the perspective shifted. He became Shen Jinghe—or rather, the person being held affectionately by the “dog man” became him. Liang Jiming’s eyes, filled with hidden desire, were inches away. He was frozen to the spot by that gaze, completely forgetting how to react.
As those eyes drew closer and the warmth touched his lips, something began to drum wildly in his chest. A fire ignited within him. He instinctively parted his lips, clashing tongues with the man holding him tight in a deep, tangled kiss.
Over and over, again and again.
The dream was so vivid and real that he felt as if his soul was being sucked out. He couldn’t distinguish who he was or who the other person was. It felt as if they were true lovers, doing the most intimate, natural things together—willingly, rightfully.
When he opened his eyes, the Young Master stared at the ceiling for several minutes, dazed. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains. He squinted, rolled over, and finally came to his senses before rolling out of bed and into the bathroom.
“Fuck…”
The soiled underwear went straight into the trash. He turned on the shower, letting the cold water pour over his head. The chill made him shiver violently. Good—now he was fully awake.
After showering, he didn’t leave the room. He crouched by the bed, grabbed his phone, and typed into the search bar: “What does it mean if you dream of kissing a man and have a wet dream?”
The search results were a mess—a heap of “Zhou Gong’s Dream Dictionary” and “Scientific Dream Analysis” sites, with gaudy ads cluttering his screen. Irritated, he scrolled through and finally clicked a link claiming to be an “Instant Professional Dream Analyst.” Without looking, he picked the most expensive package, jumped through the payment screens, and finished the transaction in one go.
Half a minute later, the “Expert” came online: [Honored Guest, thank you for your trust. Please describe your dream in detail. The more realistic the description, the more accurate the interpretation.]
Yao Zhen frowned and typed: [Well… I dreamed of kissing an annoying guy. I didn’t seem very willing, but I didn’t push him away either. The situation got a bit out of control. That’s it.]
The reply was instantaneous: [“Annoying” is the keyword, but dreams are often reversals or reveal hidden truths. Were you proactive in the dream? How did it feel? Was it disgust, or another emotion?]
Yao Zhen’s fingers paused. Was I proactive? Last night, he’d been forced both times. But in the dream… he actually seemed pretty into it. As for how it felt, besides the lack of oxygen, it was that electric, scalp-numbing shiver. He could only say the “dog man’s” technique was too good.
He snapped back to reality and typed aggressively: [Why so many questions? Just tell me what it means.]
The “Typing” status flickered for a long time before a paragraph appeared. Yao Zhen skimmed through it, his eyes landing on the final sentence:
[In short, this dream does not predict conflict. It reveals that deep down, you may harbor feelings for this “annoying guy” that transcend hostility. You are willing—perhaps even craving—intimate contact with him.]
The Young Master: [Bullshit.]
The Analyst replied calmly: [Guest, dreams are mirrors of the soul. Our analysis is based entirely on professional theory. I wish you a speedy journey to seeing your heart clearly and accepting your true self.]
“…”
Great. 800 yuan down the drain. He could have thrown it in the ocean and at least heard a splash; instead, he paid to be insulted.
Refusing to believe the “expert,” he exited the site. After a moment’s thought, he searched for Shen Jinghe. Since she was a Ph.D. student in archaeology at Peking University, he found several photos of her working on projects and her resume pictures. He looked at them one by one, trying to recapture the feeling of his heart fluttering for Sister Jinghe.
She was as gentle and beautiful as ever, but as he looked, his mind began to wander again. Before he realized what he was doing, the name in the search bar had changed to Liang Jiming.
The Young Master froze, wanting to delete it, but the page had already refreshed.
Liang Jiming was a renowned commercial lawyer, so there was plenty of information. The top result was a news report from last year about him winning a major international arbitration case for a famous corporation. The photo showed him standing next to the company CEO—imposing, sharp, and full of vigor.
Yao Zhen stared at the face in the photo for a few seconds before silently closing the tab.
…Why does he have to be so handsome? Big-shot lawyer, so what? Show-off.
The sound of a knock came from the door, followed by Liang Jiming’s voice from the other side: “If you’re awake, come out for breakfast.”
Yao Zhen blanked his phone screen, dawdled in the room for a few more moments, and finally pulled the door open to head out.
“It’s already nine o’clock. How come you haven’t left yet today…”
Sitting down at the dining table, the Young Master let out a dry, forced laugh. He didn’t want to face this man at all right now—didn’t he have any self-awareness?
Liang Jiming pushed a portion of breakfast toward him. “It’s still early. I’ll head down in a bit.”
Early? You’re doing this on purpose.
Yao Zhen looked up, only to find Liang Jiming staring at him. “What?”
Liang Jiming withdrew his gaze and said evenly, “Your lip is cut.”
Yao Zhen: “…” How do you have the nerve to say that? Why exactly is my lip cut?
He lowered his head and focused on his food, determined to ignore the man completely.
Liang Jiming didn’t tease him further. He finished his breakfast quickly, drained the last sip of his coffee, and stood up. “I’m heading down first. Take your time, Young Master. Come by the office later; there are a few documents for you to sign.”
Yao Zhen gave a lukewarm reply. “Oh.”
Liang Jiming tossed a tube of lip balm onto the table. “It’s unused.”
Yao Zhen glanced at it, reached out quickly to snatch it up and shove it in his pocket, then resumed eating with an air of nonchalance.
Watching his movements, Liang Jiming suddenly leaned forward across the table, bending down. “Young Master.”
The moment Yao Zhen looked up, he met those approaching eyes. For a split second, he thought the scene from his dream was becoming reality. Startled, his body jolted backward so violently he nearly toppled over, chair and all, only to be caught and yanked back by Liang Jiming’s quick reflexes.
“Stop being so jumpy,” Liang Jiming said, holding him steady and reminding him in a deep voice, “Sit properly.”
The Young Master, now angry, slapped his hand away. “It’s all your fault anyway!”
Liang Jiming took the opportunity to catch his wrist and pull it down, staring into his eyes. “My fault for what?”
For taking advantage of me in my dreams.
Yao Zhen’s face flushed a deep crimson. He was too embarrassed to say it out loud, so after a few seconds of frozen silence, he snapped impatiently, “Just get lost already.”
Liang Jiming’s gaze traveled from his indignant eyes down to the lip he had bitten raw the night before. This look on Yao Zhen really did make one want to bully him. After a beat, Liang Jiming straightened up and let him go.
“I’m off then. See you later. Remember to use the lip balm.”
Yao Zhen breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he was gone.
Liang Jiming had told him to sign documents, but Yao Zhen dragged his feet until the afternoon before finally heading downstairs. As soon as he sat down in his office, Xiao Wei brought the files in and mentioned that Liang Jiming had left instructions for him to read everything carefully before signing.
Yao Zhen asked, “Are you his assistant or mine? Who pays your salary?”
Xiao Wei said awkwardly, “Young Master, he said you promised him you’d work hard.”
“…” Fine. The ‘Old Man’ calls the shots.
Xiao Wei left, and Yao Zhen buried his head in the paperwork.
But staying focused was impossible. Xiao Wei hadn’t fully closed the door on his way out, leaving a crack that allowed the chatter from the main administration office to drift in.
Liang Jiming was out there too, explaining the details of a legal contract that needed revision. The moment Yao Zhen looked up, he saw him—standing by a desk, his profile sharp and distinct in the afternoon light. As he spoke, his Adam’s apple moved, and his jawline tightened and relaxed.
He looked better than he did in those photos. That face of his was truly something else.
A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
No, a beast. That was the only way to describe him.
Yao Zhen’s mind was adrift. He stared at the man for a long time, unable to look away. Even when Liang Jiming raised his hand to hand a document to someone else, Yao Zhen’s eyes caught on those long, well-defined fingers. He couldn’t help but remember the strength and sensation of that hand pressing into his waist and back—reality and his dream were starting to blur together.
…Stop. Don’t go there.
Yao Zhen shook his head, looking a bit downcast.
Liang Jiming seemed to sense something. He suddenly turned his head and looked straight at him. Their eyes met. Yao Zhen froze, blinking belatedly. Being caught red-handed peeking through a crack in the door was a bit too embarrassing.
Liang Jiming gave him a little tilt of the chin, signaling for him to focus on his work. Yao Zhen, unable to save face, got up and shoved the door shut.
Back at his desk, he had even less motivation. After space-cadeting for a while, he remembered something and fished out the lip balm Liang Jiming had given him. He uncapped it and smeared a layer over his lips, which were still throbbing slightly.
He then checked himself in his phone’s camera. It was supposed to be colorless, so why did his lips look even redder now? And the balm smelled like peaches too—what kind of taste did that dog man have? Was he doing this on purpose?
He smacked his lips.
Well, it smelled nice enough. He’d bear with it for now.
He stared at the screen for a bit longer, then hit the shutter, snapping a selfie of himself lounging at the desk. He posted it to his Moments, setting the visibility to “Liang Jiming only.”
Liang Jiming, having just finished his business, slid open his phone and saw the post. The entire photo was just the Young Master’s face close to the lens. Few people besides someone as absolutely confident in their looks as Yao Zhen would dare take an un-filtered front-camera selfie like that.
Yet, Liang Jiming had to admit his gaze was completely captivated by the image. The Young Master was squinting one eye at the camera, a hint of mischievous laughter hidden in his light-colored pupils. His lips were lush and red, and the bite mark on his lower lip was still visible—like a bruised, overripe spot on a perfect peach.
It was tempting. He wanted another bite.
He wasn’t sure if the Young Master was doing this on purpose, or how many people would see this photo. Liang Jiming’s thumb brushed over the screen, lingering on the curve of the lips for a moment before he hit the “Like” button.
Back in the office, Yao Zhen saw the little heart pop up. He smiled triumphantly, his gloom vanishing instantly.
The dog man is the one who needs to see his heart clearly and admit he’s in love.
I’ll let you look, but I won’t let you eat.