Chapter 8.2

Yan Zhao raised his eyes and looked at the man in surprise.

Did he hear it correctly? Shen Yuanting actually made a sound of agreement? Damn, what did he do to deserve Mr. Shen’s waiting until the early morning? He wasn’t a high-ranking executive carrying the company’s burden, nor was he the original male lead of the son of heaven.

Shen Yuanting silently stared at him, taking in his surprised expression.

Having answered his question, it was time for the roles to switch.

Shen Yuanting asked, “Where did you go?”

Now, this question hits the mark!

Yan Zhao leaned forward, lowered his voice, and whispered, “I played the hero and rescued a beauty!”

Hero. Rescued a beauty.

Those peach blossom eyes sparkled, a bit dazzling.

Shen Yuanting’s mouth subtly straightened without a trace, his eyes immersed in shadows, like amber submerged in water.

His tone remained steady, “Whom did you save?”

Yan Zhao smiled proudly, as if a cat had caught a fish, proudly raising its tail.

He told Shen Yuanting about tonight, or more accurately, last night. When he excitedly mentioned driving to scare Cao Zhicheng, he said, “I’m not good at fighting, but luckily I had a car today.”

What’s there to be happy about?

Shen Yuanting asked with a serious face, “What if you didn’t have a car?”

“Huh?” Yan Zhao rolled his black eyes, “There are ways even without a car.”

“Tell me, what are the ways?”

Yan Zhao thought for a moment. Call the police? Go find others who haven’t left the TV station yet? But doing that, by the time the rescue team arrives, Ying Hongyu might have been taken away by the scum.

“I know.” Yan Zhao clenched his fist and said seriously, “I’m going to learn boxing, so I won’t be afraid in the future!”

When he used to shoot martial arts films, he practiced with professionals for a while, but after filming, his brain automatically cleared those moves. Just like when he took exams, after the test, he didn’t remember any questions from the paper.

Not caring about things he didn’t need, occasionally being criticized for lacking a bit of human touch, but he didn’t mind. How others saw him was none of his business.

Shen Yuanting sighed softly, supporting his forehead.

Yan Zhao looked at the man in confusion. Was there something wrong with what he said? Learning boxing is perfect for both fitness and self-defense!

Shen Yuanting asked, “Aren’t you afraid?”

—Of course, I would be afraid, but with the adrenaline pumping and the excitement, fear only creeps in after the dust settles. And besides…

Yan Zhao confidently said, “Ying Hongyu is even more afraid. He’s all alone.”

Yes, he was alone.

Shen Yuanting lowered his head, bringing him into focus, and advised, “Don’t do this next time.”

Yan Zhao nodded, “Okay.”

He had been too impulsive this time. In the future, he should avoid traveling alone.

Shen Yuanting asked again, “Did you get hurt in the fight with Cao Zhicheng?”

“No, I didn’t. No injuries at all. Pretty impressive, right?” Yan Zhao proudly raised his head, but a hint of pain flashed in his waist. He slowly retracted, like a soft mollusk retreating into its shell.

Shen Yuanting’s gaze slid down, “Your waist.”

“Oh, this?” Yan Zhao supported his lower back, explaining with a smile, “I got injured while dancing. It’s not a big deal; just applied some medicine.”

There were a few acrobatic backflips in the dance routine, and today he wore a necklace. The silver chain hit his face pretty hard, causing a slight mistake, but it didn’t affect the overall stage performance.

Every entertainer, whether a singing and dancing idol or an actor, had some kind of ailment, big or small. He was used to it.

This sensation, no matter how many times it occurred, was uncomfortable. It was one of the rare moments when he wished he could be a bit masochistic.

Shen Yuanting observed his expression and asked, “Where’s the medicine? It’s not convenient for you to apply it yourself.”

Yan Zhao understood the implied meaning and jumped up, saying, “It’s in the bedroom, I’ll go get it!”

Both of them were men, and Shen Yuanting had already helped him change clothes earlier, so there was no need to be shy.

The medicine was always available, stuffed in a small medicine box.

Yan Zhao lifted his shirt, revealing a small section of his waist.

To make themselves look better in the camera, celebrities are basically on the thin side, and the original body is no exception.

Despite being thin, he still had the necessary muscles to make his physique look good. Thin layers of muscle covered his waist, giving it a delicate and powerful appearance. A deep spinal line ran down, hidden beneath his jeans.

Yan Zhao turned his hand and pointed to the injured area, saying, “Here.”

Shen Yuanting’s expression remained indifferent, as if what appeared before him was not a smooth and slender waist, but a delicate porcelain vase.

He squeezed out the medicine, pressed his palm against the injury, and as soon as his hand touched the other person’s skin, the other person trembled, his muscles tensed up, and then relaxed again.

“It feels cool,” Yan Zhao muttered.

“Endure it,” Shen Yuanting said calmly, rubbing the injured area with his palm, spreading the ointment.

A tingling sensation slowly climbed, causing Yan Zhao to furrow his brows. The area being rubbed started to feel warm.

“Be gentler…” he softly pleaded, “It hurts.”

Shen Yuanting’s hand paused for a moment, then applied more pressure, causing Yan Zhao to let out a soft “ah.”

Shen Yuanting’s tone remained indifferent, “Do you know there’s someone else’s scent on you?”

“What?” Yan Zhao turned his head, his black eyes moist, like obsidian soaked in water.

He sniffed his wrist but couldn’t detect anything, then asked, “Is there?”

Shen Yuanting directly asked, “Who did you hug?”

Yan Zhao felt the tone of the question was somewhat ominous, like the first raindrop falling from a sultry summer cloud.

“It’s Ying Hongyu; he couldn’t walk. But I didn’t hug him, just supported him,” he replied.

That’s why, there was a milky fragrance on his neck, which was different from the refreshing citrus scent. He could tell by a whiff.

Shen Yuanting lowered his gaze, patted his waist, and said, “Finished.”

Yan Zhao made a long “hmm” through his nostrils, pulled down his clothes, covering that small patch of brightly shining skin.

He didn’t quite understand why Shen Yuanting had to give his waist a smack, perhaps akin to some people devoutly and forcefully closing the book cover after finishing reading.

Maybe it was a sense of ritual?

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The author has something to say:

It’s such a waste that President Shen wasn’t born in the ABO world.