The room felt thick and suffocating, the air compressed into a corner by the small door. Zhou Jun’s swallowing sound echoed softly. In his intense fear, his cheeks turned as pale as steamed dough, slick with beads of sweat trickling down, one by one. The gun, cold as steel, pressed against his warm skin, the chilling contrast heightening his unease.

His heart pounded wildly, feeling as though it might dissolve under the pressure. His breath came in shallow gasps, and with a parched throat, he stammered out pleas for mercy. The gun’s muzzle was lifted from beneath his robe, the gloved hand rubbing against his waist before suddenly pressing down hard on his lower abdomen, pushing him backward.

His butt lifted awkwardly. The robe was pulled down, exposing his chest and slightly muscular abdomen. However, to the military man, this amount of flesh seems laughable. The gun lewdly moved up, pressing against his hardened nipple, which look like a seed breaking through the soil. His little bulged swelled on the surface of areola.

The hard iron pressed painfully against his breast. Zhou Jun’s fingers rested on the door, leaving several oval, sticky marks on the solid wood. He struggled to speak, “Young Master Yong… You see, I haven’t showered and I’m all sweaty. Even if you come now, you’ll get dirty.”

Yong Jin continued to press him down, gun withdrawing from his chest. Before Zhou Jun could catch his breath, Yong Jin tugged at the collar of his robe with two fingers, slowly pulling it down. Every inch of Zhou Jun’s skin trembled, his clothes piled in the crook of his arm, unable to come down any further. His body stiffened as the upper part of him was exposed.

Beneath the curved black hair, the neck gently bowed in submission. Yong Jin squinted from behind, letting out a vague ‘hm’ that held unclear meaning. They appeared quite satisfied, yet it was unclear what exactly they were pleased about. The left breast, which was toyed by the gun’s muzzle, now was pinched between someone else’s fingers that came through the right armpit. The coarse fabric of the gloves was too rough, making the delicate skin ache painfully.

Zhao Jun didn’t dare to resist, humbly allowing his nipple to be tugged and pressed down until it was flattened, then roughly pulled outward. His back pressed against a row of cold metal buttons, likely from the cuff of a military uniform, bearing coarse patterns that seemed to embed themselves into his bones, getting closer with each movement. At this moment, Zhou Jun realized he could no longer sit idly by and wait for his fate.

He wouldn’t take the easy way out, it didn’t make sense for someone else to do so either. He thought about how he had never heard any gossip about Yong Jin being attracted to men, so he decided to give it a try, hoping to lose Yong Jin’s interest. He called out stiffly, letting out a very unpleasant sound that sounded like a high-pitched duck quack—too high to rise or fall, a wheezing noise that felt completely degrading.

Then he had a gun stuffed into his mouth, and Zhou Jun instantly fell silent, never make a sound again. The two officers standing guard outside heard the sound disappear for a short while before the door began to shake rhythmically. They exchanged glances but ultimately said nothing, merely staring ahead in silence as they waited for their major general to finish.

After a considerable amount of time, the door was pulled open from the inside. Major General Yong stepped out, with his jacket taken off and wearing only a white shirt with two buttons undone. He maintained a normal expression, with just a faint flush on his face. He walked forward, and the two quickly followed closely behind.

Zhou Jun, who had narrowly escaped in the room, sat on the floor in a daze for a while. Only then did he tear off the stockings and suspenders from his body as if he had touched something dirty. In the midst of vigorous tearing, the remaining of the semen on it splattered onto the dark carpet. The two extremely thin items of women clothing were crumpled into a ball and discarded beside the equally abandoned gloves.

After it ended, Yong Jin told him to take off  the glove with his mouth and he slowly did it so. He saw Yong Jin’s hand, with its finger bones and fingertips, as precious as porcelain, glowing softly. After the gloves were removed, Yong Jin pulled out a handkerchief from his clothing and pressed it against the handle to twist it open. Perhaps because of his cleanliness obsession, from the start until the end of the affair, Yong Jin never faced him, only indulging between his legs with the silk robe in between, with Zhou Jun’s body turned away. The pair of gloves was carelessly tossed down in front of him, landing on his lap.

Zhou Jun took off his clothes, feeling that those things were too dirty and disgusting. He stripped completely and burrowed under the covers, trying to escape the scent that Yong Jin had left on him. But it was futile; it felt as if the semen that shot onto the base of his thigh had already merged with his skin.

Everywhere, everywhere was Yong Jin’s scent. Zhou Jun tightly closed his eyes, feeling utterly distressed.

It wasn’t too late, and the streets were bustling with activity. When Yong Jin got into the car, Deputy Chen took a new pair of gloves from the storage compartment and handed them to Yong Jin. The cigar was neatly cut and offered to Yong Jin. He leisurely smoked the cigar while sitting on the black leather seat. At that moment, he didn’t seem like a major general at all.

The deputy in the front seat quietly asked him if he needed to deal with Mr. Zhou. Yong Jin bit down on his cigar, slowly fastening his buttons one by one. After a moment, he heard the slightly hoarse voice from the smoke say, ‘No need, let him be for a while. Just continue to keep an eye on the Zhou family.’

The pitch-black car drove straight ahead, passing through the long street, the mixed Western-style buildings, the noisy crowd, and the crowded trams, moving further away from the sleeping Zhou Jun.

The person sleeping was startled awake by the sound of the door opening. The housemaid had knocked on the door, but the master bedroom, tightly shut, offered no response, so she naturally assumed that the master was not there. Upon pushing the door open, she realized that both the main light and the small lamps were on, and there was a large bulge in the bed, like a child. Her master peeked out from under the covers with a pair of startled eyes.

The housemaid picked up the clothes from the floor and heard the master shouting from the bed, ‘Throw them out, throw… oh no, burn them!’ Although she felt it was a shame because the materials were quite nice, she still picked them up, planning to throw them away later. She asked the master, ‘Should the room be cleaned?’

Her master pulled his head back into the deep red blanket. He pulled it up high until his feet were exposed. Then, like a shy girl, he quickly tucked them back in. Her master called for her to bring a tub of hot water, saying she could leave afterward. The maid looked at the messy corner of the table and the dried nail polish on the floor, frowning and shaking her head as she stepped back out.

Zhou Jun waited for a few more days before starting his social engagements. Miss Wen affectionately called him ‘Zhou’ on the phone; she had two movie tickets and wanted to go with him, and afterward, they could go dancing. So, the gentlemanly Mr. Zhou, at this moment, hung the chain of his pocket watch on his suit, added a checkered handkerchief, and topped it off with a hat, ensuring he looked stylish enough.

Before picking up Miss Wen, he stopped by a restaurant to have some dim sum and congee. It was difficult for Zhou Jun to appreciate the French dishes that Miss Wen loved. He was passionate about Chinese cuisine, which had just the right flavor and portion size.

When Miss Wen came down from the floor above, Zhou Jun let out a soft burp. He took a sip of soda and rolled down the window. He told Miss Wen that driving with the window open made the night city feel different. In reality, he was just worried that closing the window tightly would trap the smell of the dim sum and affect his appearance.

The day’s date would end after dancing. Zhou Jun did not take anyone home with him; he loved to enjoy women in their own houses. Miss Wen tapped her red block heels to the music as he held her and spun her around in the center of the ballroom.

Sweet, delectable, and soft women. Hard, cold, and dominant men.

It was unclear if it was the alcohol evaporating in his stomach, but two conflicting sensations kept alternating within him. The woman’s waist vs the rough gloves. Fluffy long hair vs the iron buttons of a military uniform. Bright red lips vs the coolness of semen.

Amidst the intense music, he held Miss Wen’s hand, watching her skirt swirl in full arcs, swaying back and forth like the curtains fluttering at the window that day. With her warm and vibrant body, the woman laughed like a trembling little bird, colliding into his embrace. Her soft breasts pressed against him, her fingers tangled around the nape of Zhou Jun’s neck.

She tilted her head and stood on her toes, eager to kiss him amidst the music. In that moment, she felt like she was at the grand opening of a movie, filled with excitement and anticipation, with Zhou as the charming lead. However, the atmosphere was tinged with uncertainty; Zhou Jun was lightly sweating, his cheeks flushed, and his brows knitted together. He felt a rush of desire but was unaware of who had sparked it.