It was hot, too hot that his vision blurred from the heat. A bead of perspiration hung on his eyelashes, and soon a round dark spot appeared on the carpet. He trembled as he closed his eyes, trying to bring his legs together, but they ached painfully. So he let out a grunt, unhappily spitting out the soaked gun.

His cheek rubbed against the carpet, causing him great pain. His arms ached too. It felt as if he had been wronged; sweat trickled down his delicate, velvety cheeks, like tears. His red skin was covered in mottled stains, and he twisted his brow in extreme anguish.

Yong Jin’s hand traced along his spine, moving up the vertebrae, until it reached the trembling Adam’s apple and neck, gathering a tuft of loose hair into his grasp. The man’s voice was gentle, his words as proper as those in a business transaction, yet his tone was quite arrogant.

Yong Jin said, “Mr. Zhou, while I am very displeased about the matter with Shirley, I have a great appreciation for you. Perhaps today we can resolve this issue well; it only requires some effort and a bit of strain on your part. Please, don’t cry.” As he spoke, his intent was clear, the rough fabric brushing against the corner of his mouth, leaving a slight trace of lipstick.

Zhou Jun tried to lift his body but was forcefully pressed back down by a grip on the back of his neck. Yong Jin pried his mouth open, the tip of his finger resting on his tongue as if inspecting goods. Zhou Jun heard Yong Jin say, “Mr. Zhou, your mouth and eyes are quite nice.”

His fingers roughly rummaged in his mouth and pulled out. The wet fingertips rubbed his nipples again, this time with great force, torturing them without mercy. The hardness behind him pressed harder, causing Zhou Jun’s body to shake violently. The sound of slapping echoed between his legs, the cold metal buckle of the belt pressed against his tailbone. His hands were tied behind his back, fingers slightly spread apart.

He felt the man’s firm waist and abdomen, the only part of him that was completely exposed throughout the encounter. Zhou Jun’s body curled up even more; he was scared and anxious, not just because of the thing that could invade his body at any moment, but because he…

He opened his eyes, his breathing had not yet calmed. In a daze, it felt like a dream yet not; it was clearly a scene replaying. Why did he dream of such things? Zhou Jun sat up on the bed. The window in the room was left open, and a slight breeze blew in, cool against his skin. The moonlight was blue, slanting into the room. His body, pulled from the dream, was red and drenched in hot sweat. His waist and abdomen ached intensely, a deep, trembling soreness that seemed to echo within his bones.

His legs extended from under the covers, the robe pulled up to his waist. In the dim light, he looked at his lower body. It was swollen and pointing forward, a deep red, so he reached down to grasp it.

Feeling extremely satisfied, he let out a soft sound from his nose. His gaze lingered in the corner by the bedroom door. Lost in thought, he leaned against the headboard, exploring his own desires. Overwhelmed by a tingling sensation, he took a breath, inhaling the scent in the air. In a drunken daze, he touched the back of his neck, where he felt a slight shiver.

When the man’s sweat falls, it was like small splashes of water, droplets scattering around his neck. That unfinished dream, a pleasure that refuses to be acknowledged

He swung his hips, his ass moving erotically on the sheets. The two round mounds , sleak with sweat, rose and fell, darkening the sheet. His toes kicked the blanket as he curled up uncomfortably.

His clothes were all wrinkled, so he irritably took them off and pushed them to the floor, where they landed on a pair of shoes and several books he hadn’t finished reading. Zhou Jun rested his hand on the edge of the bed, fingers spread wide, gripping the sheets tightly between his fingers. Zhou Jun closed his eyes, and in his daze, he thought he heard Yong Jin’s voice: “Mr. Zhou, your eyes are quite nice.”

 The phone rang, shattering the lingering moment of self-indulgence. Startled as if caught in a hidden secret, Zhou Jun let go, his desire dissipating almost entirely. The ringing continued, and he felt like he sensed a premonition. Naked, with the coolness between his legs, he walked from the bed to the living room, picked up the phone and said, ‘Hello.’

His voice was too soft and shaky, sounding less like a greeting and more like a moan.

On the other end, there was a deep laugh, like someone whispering in his ear from the darkness. After clearing his throat, Zhou Jun spoke again: “Young Master Yong.” Glancing at the clock, it was already 2:10 AM. “You’ve disturbed my sweet dreams.” Yong Jin replied, “I’m sorry, I just saw the gift you sent me. I lost track of time in my excitement.”

It was a voice born for sweet talk; clearly insincere words, yet they dripped with sweetness and sounded quite touching. Zhou Jun sat down on the sofa, feeling a bit cold after the heat had faded. He said to hold on for a moment, went back to his room to put on a jacket, and brought back an ashtray, placing it next to the phone.

He dealt with Yong Jin as he had with each of his past lovers, ambiguously and frivolously. He casually struck a match, its warmth flickering into a glowing flower. Fixing his gaze on that flower, he smiled slightly and asked, “Do you like those gloves?” He felt they suited Major General Yong even better than himself.

Major General Yong didn’t respond to the question. Instead, he said, “Are you smoking?” Zhou Jun held the match under the cigarette until it ignited, then pinched the stick to extinguish it. He propped up his legs and took a puff before replying, “Your hearing is quite good, Major Yong.”

“The color of the smoke is very similar to Mr. Zhou’s eyes, though Mr. Zhou’s eyes are even more captivating.” Zhou Jun accepted the compliment with a light hum and then tempered his demeanor slightly: “Since I couldn’t wait for you tonight, can we consider this matter settled between us?”

Yong Jin politely replied, “It’s my fault for missing this appointment. Mr. Zhou, if you would be so kind, there will be a performance at the pear garden tomorrow. Let’s meet there.” Zhou Jun inwardly scoffed; his words sounded nice, but there was clearly no room for refusal.

He knew he shouldn’t, and although he felt apprehensive, the discomfort in his heart persisted stubbornly. He couldn’t hold back and had to speak. His older brother always said he had the temperament of a young master, and that was certainly true. So, he replied, “I’m really sorry, but I have a busy schedule tomorrow, I—” Before he could finish, he heard Yong Jin say, “Two o’clock tomorrow, I’ll be waiting for you, Mr. Zhou.”

After ending the call, Zhou Jun took another shower. Without his housemaid around, he had to pour cold water over himself, scoop by scoop. His body trembled from the cold, but it couldn’t extinguish the fire in his heart. He hated the lack of power in the relationship, he hated being completely vulnerable. Another scoop of cold water made his back arch, and a tingling sensation spread across his back muscles as he pressed his lips tightly together. His expression was dark and cold, filled with intense displeasure.

The next day it rained, and the streets looked like a painting, washed clean and shining. Various signs and neon lights sparkled, covered by a layer of rain, while the ground reflected a cold, clear shine. The glass buildings took in all the colorful lights, creating a bright scene. Water and color were everywhere. Only the sky was a deep blue, looking heavy and low, almost as if it were pressing down on the roofs.

Zhou Jun wore a light-colored long coat and held a black umbrella. Without a suit, he looked much younger and more elegant. In the chilly, rainy weather, he watched as a car slowly stopped in front of him, careful not to splash water on his clothes.

The window came down, revealing a smiling Yong Jin inside. Zhou Jun was somewhat surprised, not expecting Yong Jin to be in the car as well. A thought crossed his mind, so he held up the umbrella, slightly bent at the waist, and leaned closer to the window. He didn’t speak or prepare to go around to the other side of the car to take a seat. He simply smiled faintly, his eyes softened by the rain-soaked scene as he looked at Yong Jin.

The meaning was clear: he wanted this gentleman to make way for him. A fanciful notion, shamelessly bold.

Yong Jin looked at him for a moment and actually moved, giving up his seat. Zhou Jun raised an eyebrow; he felt a bit uneasy because didn’t expect the seat to come to him so easily. He got into the car and closed the umbrella. His clothes and hands were quite wet, so he took out a handkerchief, folded it, and used it to wipe himself down.

Zhou Jun came from a good background, his hands were well-shaped, without calluses. His fingers were a light pink, reflecting a healthy whiteness. As he folded the handkerchief, every movement showed a natural elegance and grace.

As Zhou Jun finished tidying himself and hadn’t yet spoken, he noticed Yong Jin leaning closer. He wanted to pull away, but escape was impossible. The consequence of his bold request was clear—Yong Jin had kindly presented him with two options: sit on his lap now or sit on his lap at the pear garden.