Qiao Si lifted his eyelids, revealing a tall, slender figure reflected in the mirror. His complexion was pale, with tight lips, a somewhat gloomy and neurotic appearance, and lingering dark circles under his eyes. 

The reckless life of his youth had left him with only a vestige of a sickly sort of handsomeness. After all, being in his thirties was worlds apart from being eighteen. 

He now dressed in nothing but satin, embellished with jade ornaments. He no longer bothered to muster the energy to look directly at anyone. His appearance mattered little to him. At his level, there was no need to appease anyone; it was others who had to seek his favor. 

Even the most disheveled appearance would not lessen the degree to which others sought to please him. His primary concern was for his own comfort, striving to relax and ease himself.  

Yet, in the wardrobe hung a custom-tailored suit that had just been delivered. The suit had been carefully fitted after several trials and modifications for flawless detail, intended for the evening’s banquet. 

Today was Qiao Che’s birthday, and Qiao Che disliked it when important occasions were attended by people dressed too casually. 

Qiao Che was his half-brother, yet he did not bear much resemblance to him. Qiao Che bore a resemblance to one of those melancholic and handsome princes from mythology, with a beautiful yet tragic background—his beauty cold and distant, radiating an aloof elegance when he remained silent. 

Since the age of eighteen, when he first laid eyes on Qiao Che in their father’s study, that one indifferent glance from him had been enough to cast a spell. One that he could never forget. 

Though by that age he had already become a figure of some renown, with looks that could be considered exceptional, Qiao Che regarded him as nothing more than a toad. 

No matter how many beautiful boys he kept or how debauched his actions had become, there was always a shadow in his heart. 

“Fourth Master, Duan Heng is here.” 

“Mn.” 

Qiao Si continued to soak in the warm water, his eyes closed. The scent of medicinal herbs filled his nostrils, mingling with the steam—an aroma that had become part of his daily ritual. With the evening still hours away, he had half the afternoon left to allow his energy to flow smoothly and loosen up his meridians. 

The footsteps faded away only to return. This time, the cautious steps of a young man treading lightly. 

“Fourth Master.” 

Qiao Si opened his eyes. Standing by the pool was a tall, broad-shouldered young man, travel-worn, with long and slanting eyebrows, his eyes slightly upturned at the corners, a straight nose, and thin lips. The mature aura and demeanor of a fully grown man left Qiao Si with little interest in looking further. 

The reason he had summoned Duan Heng back from afar was because Qiao Che had made it clear that he admired the recent films, particularly praising Duan Heng’s performance as the lead actor. 

Duan Heng was a professional film actor, and in terms of popularity, he could be considered a superstar. When Qiao Si had sent him to accompany his favorite child for an audition years ago, he never imagined the director to notice Duan Heng. Soon after, he earned the judges’ admiration, winning the Best Supporting Actor award in his first role. From there, his career skyrocketed as he became an unstoppable force. 

But no matter how accomplished, even a rising star like Duan Heng was still nothing before him, just the same respectful child from years ago, a mere fledgling yet to fully spread its wings. Among the many talents he had nurtured, Duan Heng was simply one of the more outstanding ones. 

“Prepare for Qiao Che’s birthday banquet tonight.” 

The man showered a slight sign of reluctance. “I already have plans for tonight. I even have a flight boo…” 

Qiao Si interrupted with a single sentence, “Figure it out yourself.” 

For Qiao Che’s birthday, he would make sure to provide anything Qiao Che desired. Anyone who showed any signs of disrespect towards Qiao Che, in turn, disrespected him.  

“Yes, Fourth Master.” 

Despite Duan Heng’s considerable talent, his current success was not something that could have been achieved alone. It was thanks to Qiao Si’s vast network and financial support that his rise was possible. Duan Heng surely understood that no matter how significant his own plans were, they were nothing compared to the consequences of Fourth Master’s displeasure. 

After agreeing, Duan Heng hesitated, seemingly uncertain about something. 

Qiao Si opened his eyes again. “Aren’t you busy?” 

“I’ve cleared my schedule for this afternoon.” 

“Then come and join me for a soak.” 

The water was infused with high-quality medicinal herbs. Duan Heng looked weary from his long journey, clearly in need of some relaxation. This would serve as a reward for his obedience. 

Duan Heng responded and went to take a shower first. Qiao Si closed his eyes again to relax. After a moment, he heard the faint sound of someone entering the water, causing the surface to gently ripples. 

“Fourth Master.” 

When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking directly into Duan Heng’s inquisitive eyes. Qiao Si responded with a simple, “Hm?” 

“Are you going to…” 

Qiao Si understood instantly, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “You’re overthinking.” 

He had no sexual interest in Duan Heng, not unless that body was a bit more flexible, more petite. 

In fact, Qiao Si was already quite indulgent with Duan Heng because he was indeed talented. Duan Heng was incredibly intelligent and extraordinarily diligent. Even at a young age, he had learned the importance of saying less and doing more, to use his legs more than his mouth. A clear-headed individual with a defined purpose, able to control his temper, and adept at creating and seizing opportunities, would typically achieve more than others. 

In Qiao Si’s eyes, such a child might not be attractive, but he was bound to make something of himself. 

Before Duan Heng fortuitously entered the entertainment industry, Qiao Si had originally intended to train the young man to be his right-hand man. 

But he had never once felt any desire for Duan Heng, not even during the boy’s most beautiful years. He had never been intrigued enough to indulge him. 

He favored boys with large, round eyes like a fawn’s, ideally with eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings. Duan Heng, however, had single eyelids with slightly upturned corners. While it could not be said that his eyes were unattractive, they were not the typical type he preferred. 

He liked boys under 175 centimeters tall, those who retained the soft, youthful aura of adolescence. Duan Heng unfortunately grew beyond that standard and continued to do so, which only deepened his disappointment. 

There were plenty of beautiful boys who met his preferences; he was never lacking in them. Naturally, he had no interest in considering someone he had felt no attraction to. 

In the sleep-inducing warmth and tranquility of the water, he could hear Duan Heng’s clear breathing as he gradually became more awake, no longer feeling sleepy. Having soaked long enough, Qiao Si stood up and stepped out of the water. 

The man across from him followed along. “Fourth Master, allow me.” 

Duan Heng was referring to holding up the towel to dry him off and assisting him with fresh clothes. 

Given Duan Heng’s status, he no longer needed to do such things, but he knew that flattery was never in excess. 

Duan Heng was an intelligent man. In this industry, those who sought rapid success understood the necessity to lower oneself in front of those worth pleasing. Qiao Si thought to himself, it was no wonder this kid could rise to such prominence. 

Qiao Si allowed Duan Heng to assist him into his bathrobe before returning to the room, though his breathing was somewhat unsteady. 

The herbal bath was invigorating, perhaps a little too invigorating. Despite the towel’s barrier, the sensations of being rubbed and caressed across his entire body were undeniable. 

Qiao Si was not one to suppress his desires. Duan Heng stood before him, looking down at him with eyes as dark as ink. He was undeniably handsome, with nothing to criticize. 

Qiao Si gestured towards him and commanded, “Use your mouth.” 

Without the slightest hesitation, Duan Heng immediately knelt, unfastened Qiao Si’s bathrobe and steadied his hips as Duan Heng gradually brought his face closer. 

Never having the experience before, he was unaware that the man’s skills with his lips and tongue could be so mesmerizing, almost as capable of drawing out his very soul. Qiao Si’s legs gradually grew too weak to stand, but Duan Heng was ever dutiful and considerate, lifting him up in one motion and gently laying him down onto the bed. 

Qiao Si was no stranger to such enthusiastic service. He fully indulged, breathing heavily as he threaded his fingers through that head of black hair, gently massaging and caressing. 

The man’s lips and tongue were passionate and skillful, bringing Qiao Si an almost overwhelming sense of comfort. It was as if he was not merely satisfying Qiao Si’s desires, but rather, controlling them. 

After bringing him to the edge of his climax, the man did not stop. He gently lifted his legs, placing tender kisses along his thighs and occasionally teasing with delicate bites to the inner side. 

Qiao Si began to sense something was amiss. He pressed down onto the man’s head, sitting up as he said, “That’s enough.” 

Duan Heng immediately stopped as he pulled his lips away and adjusted his breath, his eyes meeting Qiao Si’s gaze as he did so. 

Qiao Si observed his lips, they were flushed in deep red, his eyes glistening with a trace of desire, the slight curve at his brow and the subtle hint in his expression strikingly different from his usual demeanor. It was an intoxicating allure, and for a moment, Qiao Si felt a slight stir in his heart, but he resolved wavering in an instant. 

“Lie down.” 

Duan Heng obediently lay down on the large bed, even taking the initiative to remove his own bathrobe. 

Qiao Si was somewhat taken aback by Duan Heng’s willingness to be indulged. As he leaned over him, examining his face and physique, he found his broad shoulders and chest slightly outside of his preferred taste. Fortunately, the slender waist and long legs were perfect, enough to stir his desire. 

Qiao Si lowered his head and bit down on the still rosy nipple, eliciting an involuntary gasp. 

The sensitivity of the man’s body with such a robust build that even Qiao Si was surprised. It seemed that with a little more exploration, Duan Heng might become a masterpiece. 

With such tapestry of desire woven in Qiao Si’s mind, he lowered himself, settling on the slim yet muscular waist beneath him as he began a more thorough exploration over the man’s body. The man seemed to anticipate his intentions, arching his back slightly while his hands finding their way on Qiao Si’s hips. 

Their bodies intertwined in a symphony of sensation. Though kissing had not been part of the original plan, the man’s lips, however, were too irresistible, their shape and color were alluring as they parted slightly in breathless anticipation. The view was tempting to resist. 

As their lips slowly moved in closer to each other, an undeniable force seemed to be fusing them together. Without any second thoughts, their lips collided that felt somewhat magnetic, as if once connected, they could not break free. 

While Qiao Si had encountered many ardent partners in the past, there was something different about Duan Heng. Others’ approaches were often laced with calculated allure, but Duan Heng’s eagerness felt more sincere. 

The softness and firmness of Duan Heng’s lips were a new experience. His kissing technique was better than Qiao Si had expected, so much so that Qiao Si barely had to do anything but simply enjoy the pleasure. 

Their movements were getting fervent that the bed creaked. Even a simple act of kissing, the room echoing with rhythmic waves and crescendo moans. Qiao Si’s hand ventured downward, brushing against the undeniable evidence of Duan Heng’s between his legs. 

The man was aroused to the point of hardness, his body a testament to their shared passion. Even though his appearance strayed from Qiao Si’s typical preferences, his enthusiasm earned high regard. 

Their bodies were slick with arousal, poised on the edge of release. Qiao Si savored the man beneath him, tracing his chest, his defined waist, and then teased the hardened length for a while before exploring further. The man responded with equal fervor, his hands cupping Qiao Si’s buttocks. 

“Fourth Master.” 

The knock at the door was an untimely interruption, a discordant note breaking the flow of the moment. Yet, the momentum was too strong to halt entirely, with Duan Heng’s tongue mimicking the movement of a snake, carrying a strength that captivated, everything was precise and sinuous. 

“The gift for Fifth Master has just arrived. Would you like to take another look?” 

Fifth Master referred to Qiao Che. The gift was a pair of jade sculptures that Qiao Si had specially commissioned, the stones meticulously sourced with great effort. A master jade carver, known for his exceptional skill, had only completed the intricate work earlier that day. 

Duan Heng’s gaze was still filled with enticing, a faint blush warming his cheeks while his hand was still resting on Qiao Si’s waist. Amidst the springtime ambiance that was rich with lingering intimacy, Qiao Si pulled away and rose from the bed, setting aside the moment to address the matter at hand. 

Duan Heng did not protest; instead, he fetched Qiao Si’s suit and helped him dress, piece by piece. He buttoned the shirt, then dropped to one knee to straighten the socks and trouser cuffs. 

“Prepare a gift too and change into something appropriate before heading over.” 

“Yes, Fourth Master.” 

Qiao Si lightly tapped the top of his head. Duan Heng’s ability to charm others was indeed unparalleled 

The birthday banquet was bustling with guests. Qiao Che stood among the crowd, doing nothing in particular yet standing out more than anyone else. His presence alone was enough to show everyone that he was the star of the evening.  

Qiao Si found himself spellbound. He believed it was not just his personal bias. Objectively speaking, as he surveyed the room, there was no one who could rival Qiao Che’s brilliance. 

It seemed Qiao Che had also noticed his presence, frequently casting glances towards his way. Somehow, there was a flicker of interest that was at odds with his typically indifferent demeanor, and he even offered a subtle nod to him. 

Qiao Si wondered if it had something to do with the pair of jade carvings. He had given Qiao Che countless gifts before, but this might have been the first one to genuinely pleased him. 

Qiao Che began making his way through the chatting guests, seemingly approaching Qiao Si. A tightening sensation gripped Qiao Si’s chest as he fixed his gaze on that strikingly serene face, his breathing even became slightly unbalanced. 

It had been a long time since Qiao Che had looked directly at him. The thought of being weighted down by those inky black eyes gave him a strange, floating sensation, like the aftereffects of a hallucinogenic drug. 

Qiao Che finally stood before him but took another step closer, his lips moved as he called. 

“Duan Heng?” 

Qiao Si instinctively turned his head to glance at the man standing dutifully behind him. Qiao Che was staring intently at that person. For once, the cold detachment on his face melted into a genuine smile as he extended his hand. 

“I’m really glad you came.” 

Duan Heng quickly reached out to clasp the slender fingers. Their eyes met, each seemingly captivated by the other, as though encountering something uncanny. Oddly enough, both of them were holding the handshake longer than politeness dictated. 

“Seeing is indeed believing.” 

“Not at all. It’s an honor to see you again.” 

Qiao Si could keenly sense the crackling chemistry that sparked in that fleeting moment. He was acutely aware of such intangible things, yet this was something beyond his grasp, something he could not command. Everything about Qiao Che lay outside his sphere of influence. 

The said person had not even spared a glance to acknowledge that it was Qiao Si who had brought Duan Heng here, let alone offered a word of thanks. Instead, he was reduced to the shadowy backdrop, an inconsequential figure overshadowed by the exchange unfolding before him. 

Qiao Si’s remained sullen, shadows pooling in his gaze, yet he found himself unable to move even a single finger of Qiao Che’s. No matter how many methods he could devise, none could be wielded against Qiao Che. He simply could not bring himself to do so. 

He had never truly scrutinized Duan Heng before. He knew the young man was tall, handsome, and youthful, yet he was still far from being his rival. 

It was only now, for the first time, that he truly observed Duan Heng with intent. 

The boy, whom he had once regarded as a mere child, had grown significantly taller than him. His face still bore the traces of youth, yet there was something subtly discernible different about it now. 

As the banquet concluded and the guests dispersed, Duan Heng dutifully stayed by his side. In a seemingly casual manner, Qiao Si asked, “What do you think of Qiao Che?” 

Duan Heng glanced at him, then responded carefully, “Fifth Master is undeniably a paragon among men.” 

“Of course,” Qiao Si smiled, taking a brief pause before continuing, “How could there be any mistakes in something I admire?” 

After a moment of silence, he added, “But you’re no longer a child. You should know what is yours to touch and what isn’t. I shouldn’t have to teach you that anymore.” 

Duan Heng’s expression shifted slightly, but he maintained a smiled, “Thank you for the reminder, Fourth Master.” 

For the slight unwillingness hidden beneath his words, Qiao Si paused just before getting into the car. “You’ve indeed made strides. But remember, the heights to which I elevate you, are the same from which I can make you fall.” 

Duan Heng responded with a simple “Yes,” bowing his head as he opened the car door for him. 

Back at the house, after a bath and changing into soft, silky clothing and shoes, Qiao Si settled into a comfortable half-reclining, half-sitting position. The fatigue of standing all night left him feeling slightly sore. 

He remained silent, and Duan Heng, ever perceptive, did not take the initiative to speak either. He quietly waited for his instructions. 

“My legs are sore.” 

Without needing to hear it a second prompt, Duan Heng removed his suit jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and gently cradled Qiao Si’s feet in his embrace. 

The feet were part of his body Qiao Si cared for most, even more so than a woman’s face. He had always paid meticulous attention to their upkeep. 

He knew he was no longer what he once was. In his younger days, he had overindulged his body, and now, at a certain age, he was paying the price. The debt he had accumulated during his prime had to be repaid in full. 

He believed that the feet were the second heart, where numerous acupoints converged, and that taking proper care of them was beneficial to health. Every day, he had a dedicated person for foot massages, regular trimming, and the application of various medicinal ointments. 

As a result, his feet were as slender and delicate as his body. They carried the faint scent of traditional Chinese medicine and were pale in color, with only the soles and heels showing a soft pink hue. His toes were long and neat, the nails rounded and trimmed short. The arches were high, the backs narrow, without any sign of deformation or cracks—likely due to never being subjected to uncomfortable shoes. 

Having Duan Heng attend to his legs and feet might have seemed beneath the current popular man he had become. But tonight, Qiao Si intended to slight him more. 

The pressure of the massage was perfectly calibrated, and Qiao Si, in the midst of his relaxation, let out a soft sigh, nearly drifting into slumber. 

As the massage progressed to his soles, the warmth and strength of Duan Heng’s hands enveloped his feet, kneading and pressing in a perfect combination. The excellent technique began to stir a warmth within his body. 

Qiao Si found himself unable to resist opening his eyes, gazing down at the man before him. 

This young man was indeed strikingly handsome, surpassing even him. 

A surge of heat coursed through him, stirred by a mix of envy and resentment. Qiao Si thought about the disdain in Qiao Che’s eyes, and the interest directed towards this person. A bitter feeling rose in his chest as he instinctively pressed his foot against the man’s chest, his toes were rubbing against the fabric in a lewd manner. 

Duan Heng’s gaze flickered upwards, but Qiao Si remained unfazed, his foot a relentless instrument of torment. His toes, insolent and deliberate, teased the sensitive nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from Duan Heng. The man’s involuntary reaction only served to amplify Qiao Si’s amusement as he slowly slid his foot downwards. 

The firm contours of the chest beneath his foot offered a novel sensation, a perverse pleasure unlike any he had experienced before. To exert such dominance, to possess another body with a simple extremity, it was a sensation bordering on the divine. 

“Where has your strength gone?” Qiao Si’s voice dripped with malice. “If your hands are tired, you may step down.” 

Duan Heng responded in acknowledgment, his fingers tightened even more than before as he resumed their ministrations, though his gaze remained rooted on Qiao Si. 

Under that intense scrutiny, Qiao Si found himself emboldened. His foot slid beneath the fabric, tracing the taut expanse of the abdomen, the graceful curve of the hip, and ultimately, delving into the trousers. 

Duan Heng’s face flushed, his eyes dropping as he bit his lip, uncertainty clouding his expression—whether from humiliation or something more profound, it was hard to tell. 

Qiao Si halted his foot above that region, his toes teasing the thin barrier of fabric. He could feel the man’s muscles convulse, a slight tremor rippling through his body as it responded to the delicate but undeniable pressure. 

It was not that he sought to humiliate him; rather, he simply wanted to remind him that he was the one who had raised him, that he was beneath him, and that he should not dare to defy his authority. 

Sweat had already begun to bead on the man’s forehead, and with a gentle yet deliberate motion, Qiao Si pinched the flesh between his toes. 

Duan Heng’s hand came to an abrupt halt, yet no sound escaped him. Instead, the veins in his forehead throbbed, as though he were barely able to endure. 

Qiao Si observed the shadows obscuring his features, the youthful tense lines on his forehead furrowed in silent agony. He suddenly wondered—was this truly necessary? 

After all, Duan Heng had always been one of the few who were genuinely considerate and attentive towards him. From childhood to adulthood, he had never once exhibited defiance. 

No matter how many people vying for his favor, achieving what Duan Heng had done was not an easy feat. 

In the end, Duan Heng was a rare find, one who had done nothing wrong, yet why had he subjected himself to such degradation? 

Qiao Si withdrew his foot and placed it back on the soft mat. “Get up.” 

The man hesitated; his movements stilled. 

“Go get some rest. I’m going to sleep.” 

That one sentence felt as though he had granted a decree of amnesty. 

Qiao Si closed his eyes, sparing Duan Heng any further embarrassment. He heard him release a long breath before the sound of him rising filled the air, followed by the door’s faint creak of closure. 

Alone now, Qiao Si lay back in the plush chair, a weight of weariness washing over him as it drifted back to the distant past, to memories of people and events that had long since slipped from his grasp. 

When Duan Heng was still a boy, before the humiliation that had now defined him, things had been markedly different. Even his relationship with Qiao Che had not been so fraught with animosity. 

In their youth, their hearts had raced uncontrollably, fueled by longing and passion. A single glance would have sent them reeling, and a smile had the power to undo them completely. He could still vividly recall the sensation of their first kiss, a fleeting three seconds that had ignited a fire within him. 

When had everything begun to change? 

Was it the moment he discovered Qiao Che had secretly undermined his power, chipping away at his influence? Or perhaps it had been when he had destroyed their bond, culminating in the brutal violation of his own brother? 

The world, he now understood, was a battlefield. Every act of affection was a calculated maneuver. This was a harsh lesson he had finally come to accept by learning at a devastating cost. 

Indeed, considering his own nature, what kind of person would genuinely fall in love with him? Such a person seemed implausible. Given his role, he was compelled to do what was expected of him, reclaiming the restitution he deemed rightfully his after being deceived for so long. Hence, he violated Qiao Che—just like that. 

Who had wronged whom more, Qiao Che or him? It was difficult to say. Over the years, he had forgiven Qiao Che for using him, but Qiao Che had never been able to forget the humiliation Qiao Si had inflicted upon him 

In the end, their feelings for one another were inherently different. 

The window had been left slightly ajar, but Jiao Si could not be bothered to get up. There, in the cool night breeze, he drifted off to sleep alone. 

The following day, Qiao Si had someone procure a lavish gift and arranged for it to be delivered to Duan Heng at the airport. It was a fine watch, adorned with genuine diamonds. It was intended as both a token of consolation and a quiet reminder of the indignity he had suffered the previous night. 

As anticipated, Duan Heng slipped the watch onto his wrist upon receiving it, and throughout the promotional events for his new film, each time he raised his arm, the reporters eagerly captured the opulent timepiece in all its glory. 

Who could resist such temptation? And who, besides Qiao Si, could afford to bestow such extravagant gifts? His wealth and influence were undeniable, often surrounded by an undercurrent of affections, an eager fawning of those who sought to gain favor. 

Power, after all, was his singular charm, the only allure he needed. It was akin to the heavy layers of makeup that adorned a beautiful woman’s face. 

Duan Heng’s film had become a box office sensation, dominating the charts for weeks on end. It had quickly emerged as a strong contender for numerous prestigious awards, though Qiao Si, the silent financier, cared little for the accolades. The film, a modest investment, had yielded astronomical returns. 

The financial investment in the film was modest, but the returns were nothing short of astronomical. 

Upon the film breaking a significant box office milestone, a celebratory banquet was held. Many had contributed to the success, yet it was Duan Heng who stood at the forefront, garnering the most attention. 

In recent years, his performances had been nothing short of brilliant, and though Qiao Si’s company had never been intended as a profit-driven enterprise, it had, nonetheless, flourished greatly due to Duan Heng’s involvement. 

Duan Heng possessed not only box-office appeal but also an uncanny instinct for choosing winning projects. Any script he endorsed was a sure bet for investment, relieving both peace of mind and confidence. Who else deserved the accolades but him? 

As the liquor flowed, Qiao Si felt particularly magnanimous as he reached out and gently stroked Duan Heng’s cheek, “What reward do you want? Just say it.” 

Known for his generosity, Qiao Si would readily grant any request, whether it was luxurious homes, fancy cars, jewelry, or beauties, none of which he would refuse. 

Duan Heng, ever the embodiment of restraint, offered no words in reply but only smiled. 

Qiao Si remembered that Duan Heng was around twenty-three or twenty-four years old, at that ambiguous age between boyhood and manhood. He possessed a mixture of maturity and youthful innocence. Though he often appeared seasoned, there were moments when a trace of naivety showed. Were one to claim that Duan Heng lacked sophistication, it would be a grave misunderstanding; his thoughts were deeper, more calculated, than most gave him credit for.