Ren Jiaoming refused without hesitation: “I’m not used to living with others.”

“You’ll have to get used to it,” Chu Shangluo said, propping his chin on his hand. He caught sight of a faint red mark on Ren Jiaoming’s fair neck. The mark, partially hidden by his collar, piqued Chu Shangluo’s curiosity. He stared at it for a moment before reaching out to pull down Ren Jiaoming’s collar. “If we’re going to fake sincerity, at least make it convincing. If you can’t even meet this small requirement, how can you be a good secretary?” Chu Shangluo’s fingertips lightly traced the bite mark on the back of Ren Jiaoming’s neck. “Did I really bite you that many times last night?”

Ren Jiaoming pushed Chu Shangluo’s hand away and turned the steering wheel onto a different road. Chu Shangluo knew where they were heading. Smirking, he leaned lazily against the seat.

At the end of February, all the snow in the capital had melted. Puddles by the roadside hinted at the arrival of spring. Chu Shangluo gazed at the city lights outside the window, his vision gradually blurring. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep—he was truly exhausted today.

When Chu Shangluo opened his eyes again, the car had stopped. The interior lights were off, leaving the space pitch black. Turning his head, he found the driver’s seat empty. Nearby streetlights seemed to be broken, and the surrounding area was shrouded in darkness. The only source of light was Ren Jiaoming’s villa ahead.

Logically, a light in the darkness should have been comforting, but Chu Shangluo felt a chill in his heart. Before falling asleep, he thought he would finally get to enter Ren Jiaoming’s house this time. Yet, Ren Jiaoming had left him in the car without a word.

Chu Shangluo took a deep breath, pushed open the car door, and walked to the villa’s entrance to knock. Once, no response. Twice, still no response. Just as he was about to angrily kick the door, it opened.

Chu Shangluo pushed past Ren Jiaoming and walked inside. “Wow, you’re really something. Just left me in the car like that?”

Ren Jiaoming raised a hand to block him from going further. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you. I’m just packing my luggage—it won’t take long.”

Chu Shangluo stopped in his tracks, his cold gaze fixed on Ren Jiaoming. “So? My dear secretary isn’t even going to invite me in for a seat?”

Chu Shangluo’s mood was far from good. If Ren Jiaoming rejected him again, he might just smash the place.

Ren Jiaoming looked at the faint blush of anger at the corners of Chu Shangluo’s eyes, which appeared unusually fragile against his pale complexion. Last night, Chu Shangluo’s eyes were similarly red, but instead of anger, they shimmered with a dazed, watery light.

After a moment’s stalemate, Ren Jiaoming averted his gaze from Chu Shangluo’s eyes, stepped aside, and pointed to a shoe cover dispenser at the entrance. “President Chu, put these on.”

Chu Shangluo fumed inside. This was Ren Jiaoming, after all. If it were anyone else, and they refused to let him in, he would never go to their place again, no matter what. They could beg him on their knees, and he wouldn’t care. He fumed even more, wondering why he liked Ren Jiaoming—and liked him in such a frustrating way.

Chu Shangluo put on the shoe covers, the fire of anger still smoldering in his eyes. He wanted to see what treasures Ren Jiaoming’s house held that made it so hard to get inside.

Once past the entrance, every corner of the house was immaculate, spotless, and almost blindingly white under the lighting. The decor was minimalist and elegant, the kind only someone meticulous and fond of cleanliness could maintain.

Chu Shangluo walked to the sofa and was about to sit down when Ren Jiaoming pulled him up. Then, Ren Jiaoming somehow produced a piece of plastic sheeting and spread it over the sofa. “Now you can sit.”

Chu Shangluo: “…”

Ren Jiaoming poured another cup of hot water for Chu Shangluo.

Looking at the disposable paper cup in his hand, Chu Shangluo felt a bit conflicted. Was this level of germaphobia even normal? After sitting down, Ren Jiaoming went back upstairs to continue packing.

For the first time, Chu Shangluo found himself as a guest sitting on plastic sheeting. Every time he moved, it made an annoying rustling sound, driving him crazy. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself to respect someone with such an extreme need for cleanliness. He stood up and started wandering around.

He noticed that Ren Jiaoming kept a lot of white roses, all meticulously cared for, just like their owner—elegant and refined. After exploring the first floor, Chu Shangluo went up to the second. The staircase was quite long, and his legs were still sore. By the time he reached the second floor, he was covered in cold sweat.

Internally, he cursed Ren Jiaoming for being such a pain. Wiping his sweat, he saw a wine-red wooden carved chaise longue ahead and, without thinking, sat down.

When Ren Jiaoming emerged with a suitcase in hand, he immediately spotted Chu Shangluo sitting on the chaise. His brows furrowed as he quickly walked over and pulled Chu Shangluo up.

Chu Shangluo was busy talking about work on the phone and didn’t bother paying attention to Ren Jiaoming. When he finished the call, he noticed the chaise had been covered with a velvet red cloth.

Putting his phone away, Chu Shangluo said helplessly, “Is this really necessary? I just sat for a moment. Is it that precious?”

Ren Jiaoming clearly didn’t want to explain. He picked up the suitcase and started heading downstairs. “Let’s go.”

Staring at Ren Jiaoming’s retreating back, Chu Shangluo clenched his fists tightly. He cursed himself for coming upstairs, knowing he’d have to endure the discomfort of going back down. What a hassle!

After leaving the villa, the car drove around and eventually arrived at Chu Shangluo’s home. Opening the door, Chu Shangluo invited Ren Jiaoming inside. He was the first secretary to step foot in Chu Shangluo’s house; previous secretaries had always been arranged to live nearby.

When he turned on the lights, the coffee table was still cluttered with empty liquor bottles and cigarette packs from a couple of days ago. Glancing at Ren Jiaoming, Chu Shangluo said, “The cleaning service comes every three days. I’ll call them to start coming daily. You don’t need to tidy up here.”

However, Chu Shangluo quickly realized he had worried unnecessarily. Ren Jiaoming’s obsessive cleanliness seemed limited to his own home. In Chu Shangluo’s house, outside, or at the office, his germaphobia was far less noticeable.

After showing Ren Jiaoming the guest room where he’d be staying, Chu Shangluo returned to his own room. His legs were still weak, and all he wanted was to lie down. Exhausted, he fell asleep almost immediately.

The next morning, Chu Shangluo opened his eyes and saw Ren Jiaoming standing by the bed. “Mr. Chu, breakfast is ready,” Ren said.

Chu Shangluo was momentarily stunned, briefly wondering why Ren Jiaoming had arrived so early. Then it dawned on him—they were now living together.

And so, on an early spring day in March, with flowers blooming and the air warming, the delightful cohabitation of Mr. Chu and his capable secretary officially began.

Ren Jiaoming helped Chu Shangluo put on his shirt, but when it came to pants and shoes, Ren Jiaoming didn’t bother, leaving Chu Shangluo to manage on his own. For the time being, everything seemed to be going smoothly—until the pleasant atmosphere was soon shattered when Chu Shangluo once again found himself irritated by Ren Jiaoming.

During dinner, Chu Shangluo casually picked up a cup and drank some water. Only after finishing did he realize he had grabbed Ren Jiaoming’s cup. When he returned it, Ren Jiaoming placed the cup aside and didn’t touch it again.

This obvious display of disdain was almost as if Ren Jiaoming was about to grab Chu Shangluo by the ear and say outright that he found him unclean.

The rest of the meal was nearly ruined for Chu Shangluo, who was so upset he couldn’t eat properly. He couldn’t understand Ren Jiaoming at all—they had already kissed, but sharing a cup was suddenly off-limits? Chu Shangluo was so angry he couldn’t even tell if his discomfort was from emotional pain or stomach pain.