A large light, as big as the moon, spun above the dance floor, casting a dim glow that felt cold and lifeless, like a love that had lost its warmth. It reflected the dullness in Zhou’s eyes, which seemed almost devoid of color. When he turned his face away, her kiss missed its target. Miss Wen pouted, feeling both frustrated and confused. She gripped Zhou’s arm tightly, her nails digging into his suit, nearly piercing his skin.

The movie came to a sudden end, and it wasn’t a joyful conclusion. As the film reel in the projector burned through, a large flame erupted on the dark screen, growing brighter and brighter, its edges glowing red, much like the flush of Zhou’s face.

Zhou Jun didn’t want to be rude, but he was terrified. When the charming Miss Wen leaned in to kiss him with her eyes closed, he saw a military uniform. Following her arm up, he saw the face of one of the officers who had barged into his home. They were like a haunting presence! They were simply inescapable!

Is that person here or not? Is he being watched? Will he let him go? Zhou Jun instinctively turned his face away and pushed Miss Wen aside. He strode out, feeling his sleeve tugged, but he didn’t look back. He thought he shouldn’t run away like a frightened rabbit, but if he really encountered Yong Jin, it would expose the lie about his sexuality and make it easy for him to be used again like a woman.

Zhou Jun didn’t want to think any further; he rushed to the car. Miss Wen chased after him from behind, her heels hitting the ground as she called out, ‘Zhou!’ Her voice was filled with a sense of grievance. In an instant, Zhou Jun thought of an excuse. He turned back, holding back his emotions, and looked at Miss Wen. He called out her nickname: “Yuan Yuan, Yuan Yuan! I’m sick, I really am sick!”

Miss Wen took Zhou Jun’s hand. Her tone softened as she said gently, “Zhou, what’s wrong?” Zhou Jun pushed her hand away, and in that moment, his eyes seemed to be filled with tears: “I don’t want you to see me looking ugly because of my illness. I love you, Yuan Yuan.

I shouldn’t have come to see you tonight; the doctor told me to rest at home. But I miss you. Your brightness and beauty make me feel content just by seeing you. Forgive me for leaving like this. I will pray to God to let me enter your dreams tonight and be intertwined with you until dawn.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Zhou Jun climbed into the car. He reached out his hand from the window and gently kissed the back of her hand, saying, ‘Good night, my love.’

He left the woman on the street and returned home alone. While taking the elevator, Zhou Jun’s face looked very bad as he loosened his tie. He had held it in for too long till both anger and frustration turned into fire. His mind was ablaze, and there was a heavy physical sensation building up in his lower abdomen.

The housemaid was cleaning inside the house, bending her small body as she knelt by the cabinet at the door of the master bedroom, pulling out an object. She called out to the master, asking if this object belonged to him. She dusted it off and wiped it clean with her apron. It was truly a strange item, so the maid asked, “Is this yours, sir?”

Her master took off his hat and removed his suit, collapsing onto the sofa as if his bones had been taken out. He asked absentmindedly what the item was. As he spoke, he took out matches and cigarettes. Just as he struck a match, the maid walked out of the room, holding the object in her hands, looking at her master with a hint of confusion.

At that moment, the phone rang abruptly, startling Zhou Jun so much that his hand trembled. The match fell onto the carpet, nearly starting a fire. Amid the ringing, he saw that the housemaid was holding a long whip, entirely in a reddish-brown color, with a silver handle and a green gem set in it. The body resembled a snake, with the gem like an eye, coldly staring at him. Zhou Jun stamped out the match and picked up the receiver.

A pleasant male voice said, “I left something at your house.” Zhou Jun stared at the long whip and hung up the phone. He couldn’t say anything and had nothing to say. He told the housemaid to throw away that thing.

This is the snake that Yong Jin used to bind his hands that day when he was about to climax. In the uncontrollable tide of passion, his robe was lifted by Yong Jin with great force. He was on his knees with a gun in his mouth, his moans slurred, hidden and out of control, his legs spread and his hands bound. The stockings were torn at the hips, and the hot, horrible tool was embedded in the crease of his ass, pounding him.

After hanging up the phone, his well-cared-for wrist strangely began to hurt. It was a sharp pain, as if the bones, blood vessels, and tissues were all reminded of that feeling—of that man. His erection swelled up, pressing against his pants, inch by inch, desire hit him absurdly, accompanied by waves of panic.

He leaned back, lost in thought, and pulled a blanket over himself as the housemaid moved about the room. Just as she was about to inform him it was time to leave, he had already risen from the sofa and was standing by the dining table, brewing a cup of black tea. The housemaid asked, “Do you need any snacks prepared?”

He slightly turned his face. His expression was somewhat strange, and the rising steam from the teacup made it hard to clearly see his features. His lips were pressed into a reserved line, not showing any sign of happiness. Out of the blue, he asked, “Are there any women’s gloves in the house?” The housemaid thought for a moment, “I believe there’s a pair—pink velvet, with little snowflakes on them, quite Western in style.”

So, her master set down his teacup and went to his room, returning with a box. It was a wine-red gift box, tied with a black ribbon. Zhou Jun opened the box, glanced at it with satisfaction, and then picked a flower from the dining table. He asked the housemaid, “You didn’t throw that thing away, did you?” The housemaid wasn’t sure why the master had changed his mind again, but she didn’t ask any questions.

After handing the item to the master, she watched as he placed the whip, gloves, and the flower into the gift box. He then took out a pen and wrote a card in elegant script, carefully spraying it with perfume. The housemaid noticed that the master slipped a roll of cash inside the women’s gloves, which made her wonder silently.

Once everything was prepared, her master instructed her to find someone to deliver the gift to the Yong residence. After sending off the housemaid, Zhou Jun finally felt his mood improve a little. He went for a bath, soaking in hot water while sipping red wine. His toes, reddened from the heat, rose from the water and rested on the edge of the bathtub.

Zhou Jun stared at the remnants of nail polish on his toes, resting his chin on his hand, and wondered if someone as powerful as Yong Jin would be angry upon receiving the gift. What reaction would he have? Would he feel so humiliated that he’d want to shoot him on the spot? Or would it just be disgust, a sense of repulsion, with a deep disappointment from having his desire to conquer left unfulfilled?

In the gift box was an invitation card. Zhou Jun would be waiting here, anticipating Yong Jin’s arrival. He planned to wear the women’s gloves to cater to Yong Jin’s peculiar tastes and desires. Zhou Jun hinted that he was a pervert, and only other perverts would be interested in him. If Yong Jin was still interested, he could lower himself and come. With the fifty yuan tucked into the gloves, Zhou Jun treated it like buying a night of prostitution.

The more the man couldn’t have something, the more he wanted it. But when it was offered to him, he didn’t care for it. He feared Yong Jin—a powerful and unpredictable man. Still, the harder the challenge, the more determined he was to face it. He thought that once he handled this, he would leave for somewhere else. Staying here wasn’t an option anymore.

After his bath, Zhou Jun wrapped a towel around himself, his hair dripping with water down the back of his neck, cold and damp. He took off the towel and put on a white robe. It was a Western-style nightgown, like a dress, with puffy sleeves that gathered at the wrists and lace around the edges. As he walked, the robe hung loosely and lightly, and under the dim light, the outline of his body was faintly visible.

The black tea was still warm as he held the cup and cradled a box of snacks. He returned to the sofa, which bore the shallow imprint of his body, covered with a brown-red blanket.

He bit into the snack, crumbs scattering down and collecting in the small hollow of his collarbone, where tiny beads of water gathered. He was waiting for Yong Jin’s call; the gift should have arrived by now. He stared at the phone and then at the clock, like a young man in love, eagerly anticipating a call from the one he cared about.

He sat there anxiously, unable to stay still. His mind was a chaotic mess, filled with conflicting thoughts and worries. He licked the crumbs of the snack from his fingers, the sweetness lingering on his tongue. Resting his chin on his hand, he wondered why he hadn’t heard from him yet.

The beads of water dried up, and his hair, like seaweed, felt fresh and gradually became fluffy. When the phone rang, the person sleeping on the sofa was startled awake and instinctively reached out to quickly answer the receiver, only to hear a series of busy tones. The box of snacks in his lap fell to the floor with a clatter, and it was only then that he realized he had misheard the sound—there was no call at all.

It was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and gradually, he began to smile like a child, feeling a sense of relief. He realized he no longer held Yong Jin’s interest. Then he recalled the illusion of the night, the restless desire that had stirred within him. For just a moment, his heart sank, but he shrugged it off, thinking, so what? He still loved women.