In the dim room, water sloshed wetly, and their breathing came in ragged gasps.
Desire surged through every inch of the air like a rising tide.
Huo Yan leaned against the headboard, both hands gripping Rong Yichen by the waist. They had kissed all the way from the doorway to the bed, their clothes scattered across the floor like the hasty, passionate overture to something more.
Rong Yichen drew back slightly, his lips still brushing the corner of Huo Yan’s mouth. His voice was husky, touched with a damp little laugh. “Careful, Big Brother. This is my first time.”
Huo Yan didn’t answer. He only looked at him.
The next moment, Rong Yichen was pressed into the soft bed. Huo Yan’s palm slid up along his waist, stroking his smooth skin slowly, with a certain restraint.
The dim yellow light fell into Rong Yichen’s slightly narrowed eyes, where countless stars seemed to sparkle as he gazed at Huo Yan—a wordless invitation.
Huo Yan gazed at him, entranced, for a while before lowering his head. A reverent kiss landed on Rong Yichen’s collarbone.
Light and close-set.
Morning sunlight slipped through a gap in the curtains, a fine line falling across the rumpled sheets and breaking over Rong Yichen’s bare shoulder.
He shifted. Every bone in his body felt as if someone had taken him apart and put him back together again; he was achingly sore and weak.
He had just started to sit up when an arm clamped tightly around his waist.
Huo Yan curled around him from behind, his chin resting in the hollow of Rong Yichen’s shoulder. His breathing was steady and unhurried, like a satisfied beast savoring its last moments of laziness.
Rong Yichen didn’t move. He let Huo Yan hold him, relaxing as he leaned back against him.
A long while passed before Huo Yan finally spoke, his voice hoarse with sleep. “What time is it?”
Rong Yichen fumbled for his phone and squinted at the screen. “Nine thirty.”
He didn’t turn around. His tone took on a lazy hint of teasing. “Aren’t you going to work, President Huo?”
Huo Yan’s lips brushed the back of his neck, rubbing lightly against it. His voice was low. “Mm. I’ll go in a bit.”
Rong Yichen tossed his phone aside, then suddenly rolled over to face him.
Huo Yan opened his eyes. Sleep still lingered in them, but Rong Yichen’s gaze had already cleared them a little. “What is it?”
Rong Yichen said nothing.
He simply looked at Huo Yan, his gaze tracing from his brow to the bridge of his nose, then to the corner of his lips, as if admiring a work of art he could never tire of.
Then he reached out and lightly touched Huo Yan’s brow, his fingertip following its curve in a slow glide.
Huo Yan stayed still, letting him trace it, enjoying his touch.
“I heard,” Rong Yichen began, his voice lazy and faintly amused, “that President Huo is very particular about keeping himself pure.”
He said it lightly, as if it were just an offhand remark, but there was something hidden in those bright, catlike eyes, waiting to see how Huo Yan would react.
Huo Yan froze for a second.
Then he smiled, took Rong Yichen’s hand, and brought it to his lips, gently kissing his fingertip.
“You forgot about me,” he said, his gaze as tender as honey that wouldn’t melt.
Rong Yichen raised an eyebrow, a trace of confusion surfacing in his eyes. “Have we met before?”
“In M Country,” Huo Yan said, looking at him and speaking each word with care. “In an alley. You saved my life.”
Rong Yichen stared at the handsome face before him, then paused as the memory came back.
Oh. He remembered.
Fragments of that day came rushing back: the chaotic street, the dim alley, a dirt-covered, battered person collapsed in the corner by the wall.
He’d only been passing by. Seeing the person was about to die, he’d lent a hand out of the feeling of kinship between fellow countrymen.
“…Oh.” Rong Yichen’s eyebrows rose even higher, and a disbelieving smile appeared in his eyes. “That unlucky guy covered in dirt was you?”
Huo Yan smiled too, openly and warmly.
“It was me.”
As he spoke, he rubbed his thumb over the back of Rong Yichen’s hand. His callused fingertip moved as if he were holding Baby, whom he had lost and found again, his touch light enough not to break him, yet firm enough to sink into his very bones.
Then he paused. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he added, very softly, each word landing squarely in Rong Yichen’s heart:
“I fell in love with you at first sight.”
The room fell silent for a moment. Even the wind outside the window seemed to stop.
Rong Yichen pressed his lips together awkwardly. A sudden, ominous feeling came over him. He looked away, his voice wavering a little. “So you…?”
Huo Yan watched him with a heavy gaze, an unmistakable seriousness surging in his dark eyes. His tone was firm. “Be my boyfriend.”
I’m screwed.
Rong Yichen’s mind went “buzz.” He’d thought this was a hookup, but it turned out to be a relationship.
He could practically hear the defenses around his heart crack.
He got out of bed and, with his back to Huo Yan, put on a bathrobe. His movements were a little stiff, and he deliberately kept his voice cool. “I’ll think about it.” But in his head, a fierce battle was raging—
Damn it.
Huo Yan’s face was exactly his type: sharp, sculpted features, slightly drooping outer eye corners, and a smile that made him unbelievably handsome.
But letting someone into your life was really hard, especially when your life was already so complicated.
He closed his eyes. He didn’t even have to turn around to feel the heat of the man’s gaze on his back, like a net holding him fast.
Good grief. It was his first time trying to be a player, and he’d hooked up with someone who was serious about him.
At that moment, a phone call rescued Rong Yichen from his awkwardness. His phone buzzed on the bedside table. The instant the screen lit up, he practically snatched it up as if escaping, hurried into the bathroom, and pulled the door shut behind him.
“Hello?” He turned on the faucet, letting the rush of water drown out his still-unsettled heartbeat.
“Your king is back in the country. Come pick me up.” A bright voice, tinged with a little pride, came through the phone.
As Rong Yichen squeezed toothpaste onto his brush, he asked indistinctly, “Didn’t you say you’d be a few more days?”
The person on the other end snorted, barely able to contain their smugness. “You said you were bored, didn’t you? I wrapped up my target fast. Tell me, who else would spoil you like this if I weren’t around?”
After rinsing his mouth, Rong Yichen wiped his face in front of the mirror and teased, “Hurrying back to be someone’s lapdog?”
“You talk too much. Get over here and pick me up.” The caller was clearly annoyed, but not genuinely angry.
After washing up, Rong Yichen opened the door and found Huo Yan waiting outside with his phone held up. His bathrobe hung loosely on him, revealing the elegant line of his collarbone. His gaze carried a hint of refusal to take no for an answer.
Rong Yichen raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
Huo Yan held the QR code up in front of him and tapped the screen with a fingertip. “Add me. I’m waiting for your answer.”
Rong Yichen had no choice but to scan the code and add him. He was just about to tell Huo Yan he had to leave when Huo Yan suddenly grabbed his wrist. The next second, Rong Yichen was pinned against the door, and Huo Yan’s kiss came down with irresistible force, biting at his lips until he was breathless before finally letting him go.
“I’m waiting for your answer,” Huo Yan said, his voice low and hoarse.
Rong Yichen closed his eyes and scolded himself.
Rong Yichen, you’re the World’s No. 1 Killer. Someone kisses you and you just let him? You hopeless face-lover.
He couldn’t help taking another look at Huo Yan. Huo Yan’s lips still bore the trace of him, and his gaze was deep as a whirlpool. Rong Yichen pressed his swollen lips together, giving in with a hint of reckless resignation. “Fine, fine. I’m leaving.”
Huo Yan looked at him steadily and nodded, his tone indulgent. “All right.”
.
Rong Yichen drove to the airport, his eyes fixed on the distant exit until a familiar figure came into view.
It was a young woman. Her long black hair fell behind her shoulders like silk, the ends curling slightly and swaying with each step. She wore an off-white hoodie, light gray sweatpants, and white sneakers. She ambled outside, looking soft and fluffy, like a little kitten just woken from a nap.
She had a sweet, obedient-looking face, with curved brows and eyes, a small nose, and pale pink lips. When she smiled, a shallow dimple appeared in her left cheek. Her gaze was clear and bright, as if it held a pool of spring water.
She pulled a black suitcase with one hand, the other tucked into her hoodie pocket. Taking her time, she walked over, tossed the suitcase into the trunk, then dropped into the passenger seat with the efficiency of someone who’d just completed a mission.
“I’m exhausted.” Once in the car, she looked for her seat belt and complained, her voice carrying the weary ease of someone who’d just made it through a close call.
After she was settled, Rong Yichen started the car and tapped the steering wheel with his fingertips. “Where to?”
Shen Qingci glanced at her phone and frowned, her voice full of distaste. “Take me to the Shen family first.”
“Sure.” Rong Yichen nodded without asking anything else.
Shen Qingci watched the scenery rushing past the window and sank into her seat with a troubled look, deliberately drawling, “Oh, in this place, I can’t be Shen Qingci, who can summon the wind and rain. I have to be Shen Qingci, the useless granddaughter of the Shen family.”
Rong Yichen spoke without expression, his voice cold as ice. “You can keep summoning the wind and rain behind the scenes.”
At his words, a hint of teasing colored Shen Qingci’s eyes. She spoke with gleeful amusement. “The organization must really trust us, assigning the two of us together.”
She expected Rong Yichen to answer, but he was unusually quiet today, driving in silence.
Puzzled, she turned her round, almond-shaped eyes toward him. The moment she saw the several suggestive hickeys on Rong Yichen’s neck, she understood. She whistled. “Well, well, no wonder you’re so cold. You’ve got someone new.”
Rong Yichen drove with one hand. With the other, he took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He took a drag, then spoke through the swirling smoke, his voice touched with troubled resignation. “It’s a bit complicated.”
Shen Qingci took a cigarette as well, lit it, and raised an eyebrow at him, practically bursting with curiosity. “Spill.”