“You…” Guan Ciyan flicked Jian Yang’s forehead hard with his knuckle.

Jian Yang giggled and hugged Guan Ciyan’s arm. “Just joking, sir. Don’t hit me.”

“Did I act well?” Jian Yang deliberately winked at Guan Ciyan.

“Not bad,” Guan Ciyan genuinely praised him. “Come on, let’s go remove your makeup.”

Jian Yang pushed his hair back, revealing his smooth forehead. He poured some makeup remover onto a cotton pad and started wiping. “Sir, how long are you staying this time?”

The makeup artist ran over to take over the task, placing cotton pads over Jian Yang’s eyes. Jian Yang peeked at Guan Ciyan with one eye. Guan Ciyan originally wanted to say he’d stay a few more days just to accompany him.

But with the makeup artist present, he wasn’t sure if Jian Yang wanted their relationship to be public, so he simply said, “A few days. Some contracts at the film city are expiring, so I need to renegotiate them.”

“Oh.” Jian Yang didn’t suspect anything.

Guan Ciyan thought: So easy to fool. Since when does he need to personally handle renewals? What’s the point of hiring all those professional managers? With Jian Yang’s way of running a company, sooner or later, he’d end up losing everything.

He stayed with Jian Yang through the makeup removal and even accompanied him back to the hotel.

Since they were already staying in a suite, Guan Ciyan occupied the extra room and secretly watched cooking tutorials. The next morning, feeling confident, he headed to the small kitchen.

A clay pot was still simmering on the gas stove. Following the first step in the video, he heated the pan and added oil. Within half a minute, the oil started splattering violently, like water bombs exploding, jumping sky-high.

Jian Yang was woken up once by his alarm and was just about to go back to sleep when he heard the rapid crackling sounds.

He thought about calling Dongdong to check it out, then realized that would be too much like a pampered young master. So, he got up himself and followed the noise to the kitchen.

Guan Ciyan, dressed in a black suit, was beating eggs in the middle of a kitchen filled with smoke…

The oil was splattering up to three feet high. Jian Yang could see it even from the doorway. As he took two steps forward, the smoke made him cough.

“Sir… what are you… cough cough cough doing?”

“I’m cooking,” Guan Ciyan’s voice was unconsciously louder in the haze.

“Stop! Your hands are all red!”

Oil droplets were constantly landing on Guan Ciyan’s hands. The flames on the stove were blazing, making the whole scene look chaotic.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt,” Guan Ciyan said with a straight face, about to pour the eggs into the pan.

But the spatula was still wet…

Jian Yang ran over, turned off the gas, and grabbed the spatula from his hand. “Get out, get out.”

He forcibly pulled Guan Ciyan out of the kitchen. Seeing that his black dress shirt was speckled with oil stains, his meticulously styled hair disheveled for the first time, Jian Yang caught a rare glimpse of uncertainty in Guan Ciyan’s usually composed eyes.

He avoided his gaze.

“Sir.” Jian Yang called softly, then suddenly burst into laughter. “What were you doing?”

He stood on tiptoe to smooth Guan Ciyan’s hair, fingers brushing past his hairline, his eyes sparkling.

“Does it hurt?” Jian Yang lifted Guan Ciyan’s hand, noticing two or three blisters forming on his right arm.

“It’s fine. The process was right, the result just—” Guan Ciyan was mid-sentence when he saw Jian Yang frown and immediately changed his words. “It hurts a little.”

“Why are you even in the kitchen? Go sit on the sofa and wait for me.”

Jian Yang went to grab the first aid kit while Guan Ciyan held up his injured hand, watching as Jian Yang busied himself around him. He felt as if something missing between them was slowly being filled.

“This won’t hurt.” Jian Yang gently applied burn ointment to his hand and carefully blew on it.

The warm breath on his skin made the back of Guan Ciyan’s hand feel unbearably sensitive. Watching Jian Yang purse his lips, he couldn’t help but crave that sensation even more.

Mornings were a dangerous time to let one’s thoughts wander. Guan Ciyan tried to pull his hand away, but Jian Yang firmly grasped his wrist. His soft fingertips grazed his skin, climbing up to hold his arm higher. Guan Ciyan swallowed hard.

“I lied earlier. It does hurt a bit,” Jian Yang admitted, looking guilty yet innocent. His almond-shaped eyes shimmered, golden irises gleaming with clarity. “Bear with it for a little.”

“I can’t bear it anymore,” Guan Ciyan muttered under his breath.

“You have to. The weather’s getting warmer, and it’d be bad if it got infected,” Jian Yang, focused on treating his hand, completely missed the predatory glint in Guan Ciyan’s eyes.

“I’ll wrap it with plastic wrap,” Jian Yang said as he carefully wrapped the injured area. “Now go take a shower, but be careful not to get it wet.”

“A shower?” Guan Ciyan hesitated, wondering if Jian Yang had noticed something.

“Oh, you might have trouble adjusting the water. Let me do it for you.” Jian Yang pulled Guan Ciyan into the bathroom and adjusted the water temperature. “Alright, you can shower now.”

“You…”

As the water sprayed down, it wet Jian Yang’s shoulder. His sleepwear clung to his body, and droplets trickled down from his earlobe, following the curve of his neck. Guan Ciyan reached out, brushing the moisture off his skin, fingers sliding up to grasp his soft earlobe, rubbing it gently.

“Mm…” Jian Yang let out a soft, cat-like whimper. “It tickles.”

Instinctively, he tilted his head, trapping Guan Ciyan’s hand between his cheek and shoulder, his voice tender.

“Sir, don’t mess around.”

Guan Ciyan couldn’t bear hearing that sound and let go. “Get out.”

When he spoke, his voice was already so hoarse it was barely recognizable. If either of them had any experience, they would have noticed the thick desire laced within it.

Jian Yang just felt his face heat up but didn’t respond or leave.

Leaning against the wall, Guan Ciyan let out a long breath. His little brother had already been standing at attention, barely concealed.

He turned the water Jian Yang had prepared from warm to cold and let it pour over his head. But after over twenty years of abstinence, once the fire was lit, no amount of cold water could put it out.

His mind was filled with the image of Jian Yang’s fair neck, damp with water. The droplets had touched the landscape beneath his clothes before he could. His lips were soft, his waist was soft, his earlobes were soft—every part of him was obediently soft.

The images in his mind grew more and more vivid, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. The taste of their first kiss was unforgettable. Guan Ciyan closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to descend into indulgence.

“Sir, sir.”

Jian Yang’s voice came from outside the bathroom.

Guan Ciyan frowned. That voice—he wished it would call him something else.

“Sir, are you okay?” Jian Yang placed a hand on the doorknob, debating whether to force it open.

It was just a minor burn. How could he be struggling so much just to take a shower? Breakfast was already done—why was he still in there?

“Sir, should I come in?” Jian Yang asked.

“No need,” Guan Ciyan replied, his voice hoarse, nearly swallowed by the sound of the water.

It sounded thick and strained, like an old cassette tape struggling to play.

“Alright, then I’ll wait outside,” Jian Yang said, preparing to leave.

“Jian Yang,” Guan Ciyan called out as if suppressing something. “Jian Yang.”

“I’m here, sir.” Jian Yang pressed against the door. “Sir, what’s wrong?”

In the middle of the bathroom door was a frosted glass panel. Jian Yang’s silhouette, shifting slightly as he leaned in, was outlined by the light.

Guan Ciyan’s mind was suddenly filled with the memory of Jian Yang teasing him: “My waist is even softer. Do you want to try it, sir?”

“Jian Yang…” Guan Ciyan’s thin lips parted, his peach blossom eyes squeezing shut in frustration. “Jian Yang, call me.”

“Sir?”

Even through the door, Jian Yang’s voice was distorted, but it was stimulating enough.

Guan Ciyan opened his eyes, rinsed himself off, and stepped out in a bathrobe.

Jian Yang was still waiting by the door. “Sir, are you alright?”

“Ah! Didn’t I tell you not to get your hand wet?” Jian Yang grabbed Guan Ciyan’s right hand with both of his own. “Doesn’t it hurt in the hot water? Look, even your face is red.”

Jian Yang pressed the back of his hand to Guan Ciyan’s cheek. “It’s burning hot—do you have a fever?”

He slipped his hand into Guan Ciyan’s robe, touching his neck, then comparing it to his own. “It does seem a little hotter…”

Guan Ciyan caught Jian Yang’s wandering wrist with one hand and placed the other on his shoulder, gently pushing him against the bathroom door. He leaned in closer.

Jian Yang’s round, apricot-shaped eyes flickered with panic, his pupils darting around, his long eyelashes trembling. Guan Ciyan paused, pressing the tip of his nose against Jian Yang’s, taking in every nuance of his expression.

His lips, plump and red like ripe berries, hung temptingly, waiting to be plucked. Guan Ciyan’s gaze darkened. He closed his eyes, moving toward the place he had been longing for.

At the last second, Jian Yang turned his head, causing their lips to brush past each other. His voice trembled. “S-Sir…”

The strength in Guan Ciyan’s hands loosened. He tilted his head, resting it on Jian Yang’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of his skin before pulling him into an embrace. “Sorry, sorry. I lost control.”

The clock in the living room chimed—it was only seven in the morning.

Jian Yang was a man too. He understood exactly what mornings meant for men.

Could it be that Guan Ciyan wasn’t entirely incapable, just… occasionally functional? That might be even more frustrating.

Jian Yang wasn’t the petty type. He assumed that Guan Ciyan had simply gotten excited after realizing he could still function and instinctively reached for the nearest person.

With a generous heart, he wrapped his arms around Guan Ciyan’s waist and patted his back. “It’s fine. We’re both men. I get it.”

“You’re not going to ask me why?” Guan Ciyan tightened his hold.

“We’re both men. I understand,” Jian Yang said sincerely. “I’ve had my off days too—sometimes it’s up, sometimes it’s not. No big deal.”

Guan Ciyan thought about it and realized Jian Yang wasn’t wrong.

Jian Yang had been the one who liked him first. They were both men—if Jian Yang had ever entertained certain thoughts about him, hadn’t he done the same in return?

“Sir, have you hugged me enough?” Jian Yang’s voice remained soft, without the slightest hint of irritation.

Guan Ciyan took advantage of the moment. “Not yet.”

“But the noodles will get soggy.”

“…What noodles?”

“You already beat the eggs, so while I was cleaning up the kitchen, I made tomato and egg noodles.”

“You made me breakfast?” Guan Ciyan looked genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” Jian Yang said casually. He’d been making tomato and egg noodles since he was ten.

“You really…” Guan Ciyan didn’t hide the smile that spread across his face. He released Jian Yang, looking into his eyes earnestly. “I wanted to make it for you.”

“Sir, you look really handsome when you smile.”

The corners of Guan Ciyan’s peach blossom eyes lifted, his thick lashes casting delicate shadows. The sharp, cold gleam in his eyes softened into a warm glow. The emotions he usually buried deep inside cracked open just a little, revealing something tender within.

Guan Ciyan felt as if his entire heart had been immersed in warm water. “You like it?”

“Of course,” Jian Yang replied.

A happy boss meant a happy workplace.