Wen Jiang sat on the bed, examining the final items he’d selected.
Learning knew no bounds. If thorny intellectual puzzles offered no immediate breakthroughs, it was better to focus on the present, build up one’s foundation, and perhaps revisit them later to find the sky suddenly vast and open, revealing entirely new insights.
In layman’s terms, rather than delving deeper into the heavy theory of physiological release and Supernatural Ability stabilization reports, Wen Jiang decided to think about how to bind Xie Qi first.
For a pair of novices like them, only the milder items from the top drawer were suitable. Even so, Xie Qi reacted strongly. He sat in the chair opposite the bed, glancing over now and then. After watching for a bit, he’d lower his head and cover his face with his hand.
A few seconds later, he’d lift his flushed face again, stare for a moment, then look away. Wen Jiang caught all these little movements with his peripheral vision.
Wen Jiang picked up the Binding Rope he’d carefully chosen—a classic basic model with no extra features. Though his face remained expressionless and his tone calm, he successfully conveyed his confusion: “What are you doing?”
Xie Qi hesitated, propping his head with his hand as he mumbled, “……Not used to it yet.”
How could he dream of his boyfriend seriously picking out sex toys they’d use together on the bed?
They hadn’t even kissed yet—holding hands required timing it just right.
Wen Jiang set down the rope and picked up a pair of Handcuffs. “Then work on getting used to it.” Adapting would be good for his mental state.
He lowered his gaze to the silver object in his hand, hooked his finger through the ring, and lifted it in front of Xie Qi.
The silver rings clinked softly with a metallic chime. Xie Qi’s throat bobbed.
Does he like this one? Like picking a toy that would make a dog wag its tail the hardest. Or, in more serious terms, screening the most effective equipment for mental stabilization. Wen Jiang asked, “Any thoughts?”
Xie Qi blurted out instinctively, “There are clothes in the closet……”
He snapped his mouth shut. Wen Jiang paused for two seconds, ignoring Xie Qi’s protesting “Hey,” got off the bed, and opened the wardrobe in the room. An array of distinctive uniforms came into view.
……Impressive. Wen Jiang silently closed the wardrobe door.
He sat back on the bed and set the handcuffs aside. Xie Qi’s gaze followed them, his eyelids drooping.
Wen Jiang thought for a moment, then looked at a Low-Temperature Candle. On the top shelf, it was a wax candle that wouldn’t really burn skin; on the bottom, its equivalent was a modified branding iron. He picked up the candle and noticed Xie Qi’s gaze refocusing with a hint of heat.
Wen Jiang set the candle down beside the rest, as if he had no intention of using it. Xie Qi’s eyes swept over it, revealing a flicker of unconscious disappointment.
Wen Jiang picked up the handcuffs again, and Xie Qi’s gaze snapped back.
Ah, this is kind of fun.
Xie Qi realized he was being teased, his ears turning an even deeper red. Half-annoyed, he complained, “Stop playing around.”
The words held no threat. Wen Jiang chuckled lightly, utterly fearless as he tossed the handcuffs aside and untied the bundled soft rope.
Wen Jiang had studied the rope-tying method last night and remembered the steps clearly. On paper, this bundle of rope was sturdy—normal human strength couldn’t break it. Of course, it meant nothing to S-Grade Combat System ability users.
The process of learning anything new always started with imitation, like a child tracing calligraphy practice sheets. Wen Jiang decided to replicate it one-to-one. He replayed the video in his mind and realized something was missing. He said to Xie Qi, “Take off your shirt.”
Xie Qi’s eyes widened as he stared at Wen Jiang for a few seconds, then lowered his head, covering his face with one hand, and let out a long sigh.
Then he looked up with that same indifferent expression, gripped the hem of his shirt decisively, and pulled it off.
It’s just taking off a shirt—why does he look so resolute about it? Wen Jiang silently grumbled internally.
Xie Qi had the kind of build people called “slim in clothes but ripped underneath.” Top-tier innate physique paired with elite training had sculpted a body with sleek, powerful muscle lines—not bulky, but perfectly proportioned in aesthetic balance.
Xie Qi himself didn’t care much about it—at least not before today. With Wen Jiang silent, he wasn’t sure what to say either. Remembering how intently Wen Jiang had watched that half-naked muscular guy in the video last night, Xie Qi hesitated before asking slowly, “……Any thoughts?”
“??” Wen Jiang put on his signature blank-faced confusion. He picked up on the subtle tension and shyness behind Xie Qi’s words, suddenly realizing this might be a scoring moment.
Without a doubt, Wen Jiang was the type of friend who, when someone needed a boost, would generously hand out perfect scores for support. He offered his sincerest highest praise: “Looks good.”
Add some flair. Wen Jiang thoughtfully elaborated: “You look like a highly sought-after actor.”
You have the kind of body that directors would kill to squeeze a shirtless scene into for buzz and box office.
“Oh……” Xie Qi followed Wen Jiang’s train of thought—for him, that was indeed high praise. His gaze flicked to the floor, his mood visibly brightening.
Time to get to the main event. Wen Jiang scanned the items on the bed one last time. He hadn’t planned to use everything this round—for instance, the handcuffs overlapped with the rope’s positioning. He just wanted to gauge Xie Qi’s reactions.
One item hadn’t been shown off yet. With a touch of playfulness, Wen Jiang picked up the Collar with its attached leash. His fingertip lightly flicked the nameless tag dangling in the center, and he asked flatly, “Any thoughts?”
Xie Qi’s recently relaxed body stiffened instantly.
That was answer enough. Wen Jiang didn’t even glance at him: “Come here.”
An indescribable, strange heat began to bubble up again. Xie Qi took steps forward. The short distance felt endlessly long yet over too soon. When he came to, he was standing before Wen Jiang, looking down at a stretch of pale neck.
His thoughts scattered gradually, but a cool voice cut in: “Wrong.”
His mind snapped back. Xie Qi froze for a moment, then bent down, his knees obediently meeting the floor as he looked up at Wen Jiang.
“……Sorry.”
He apologized on instinct for kneeling too slowly.
His breathing grew hot without him noticing, his throat parched. Wen Jiang held the Neck Collar, the soft leather brushing his neck, the metal tag sliding slowly along his Adam’s apple. The faint, cool touch felt just like Wen Jiang’s fingertips. The Collar had no special functions, yet it sent electric currents racing through Xie Qi’s body.
He likes this one the most, huh. Wen Jiang took in the skin, expressions, body heat… all the reactions. He confirmed calmly, “Use it?”
“Yes.” Xie Qi answered immediately, his brain lagging behind to process what he’d agreed to. His eyes met Wen Jiang’s pitch-black ones, finding a intoxicating haze in those abyss-like depths that made him want to sink.
“……” Xie Qi couldn’t help reaching out to touch Wen Jiang’s ankle: “Please.”
It went just as smoothly as expected.
Wen Jiang inspected his handiwork.
Skilled, quick, efficient—not at all like a first-timer. If there were a rope-binding contest, he’d probably score high.
Xie Qi knelt at Wen Jiang’s feet, face flushed red, head resting against Wen Jiang’s knee. Wen Jiang could feel the other’s heavy, hot breaths spilling onto his lap. The binding’s effect was even better than anticipated.
Digging deeper, it was intriguing. The pleasure of bondage supposedly came from the restraint and the forced helplessness of being at another’s mercy—but neither applied here.
No matter how tightly the ropes looked, Xie Qi could break free effortlessly. It was hard to believe he’d ended up like this because of the binding.
From prior observations, Xie Qi’s kink didn’t align with standard masochism anyway.
Different, but fundamentally sharing common ground. Wen Jiang lowered his lashes, his fingertip poking Xie Qi’s nape. He touched the Collar he’d put on him, then slid lower. A muffled sound escaped Xie Qi’s throat, like he’d finally reached his limit. His voice hoarse, he asked, “……Can I lick yet?”
Wen Jiang said, “Hold it.”
After two days of observation, Wen Jiang had drawn plenty of conclusions. Xie Qi himself seemed oblivious, thinking his actions were just going with the flow, not counting for much. If asked if he had masochistic tendencies, Wen Jiang guessed Xie Qi would look conflicted before mumbling, “Nah.”
But when Wen Jiang had politely asked if he could accept this or that, Xie Qi got uneasy. When Wen Jiang issued firm, selfish commands instead, Xie Qi relaxed more, accepted easier, and got more excited. Saying he had no such kink at all wouldn’t hold up either.
Wen Jiang thought it resembled “cultivation.”
Xie Qi was changing bit by bit. Last night, he’d still felt awkward kneeling; today, he did it smoothly. Whether it was habit’s terror or Xie Qi’s natural talent, who knew.
Can kinks be cultivated like planting flowers or trees? What’s Xie Qi’s upper limit? Wen Jiang was a bit curious.
Xie Qi panted lowly, squirming restlessly. Wen Jiang noticed his shoe tip brushing the fabric of Xie Qi’s pants. The wait during Wen Jiang’s pondering was torture for Xie Qi. Unknowingly, Wen Jiang’s foot ended up between Xie Qi’s legs.
Not soft—tense muscles hugging the ankle bone.
Wen Jiang raised his right hand, tightening the leash and yanking Xie Qi’s head up.
“……” Xie Qi’s throat slid again. He’d repeated the plea many times, but Wen Jiang hadn’t yielded once: “Please.”
Each time more direct, each reaction a touch stronger. This round, after Xie Qi spoke, Wen Jiang felt a change where they touched.
Finally, Wen Jiang smiled and said, “Alright.”
Compared to Xie Qi, he looked impeccably dressed, with no intention of doing more. The bound one had to fend for himself. Wen Jiang loosened the leash. Xie Qi immediately lowered his head and bit the fabric of his clothes with his teeth.
……So contradictory.
The searing desire first ebbed, then flared into fiercer wildfire. It was hard to imagine finding satisfaction in this, but reality offered no excuses for his body’s reactions.
Does Wen Jiang actually have sadistic tendencies? Xie Qi couldn’t help wondering. No firm answer, but at least he was sure Wen Jiang didn’t hate it. Some of his actions might even please him.
Warm fingers stroked his nape and hair idly, sending an indescribable tingle through Xie Qi—like when he’d treated himself as a chair, or when Wen Jiang had deadpanned those super-spicy cookies. From Wen Jiang’s words and reactions, Xie Qi sensed a faint pleasure.
And this Wen Jiang felt different from the unguarded sleeper, or the one who issued harsh commands.
A soft sigh came from above. Xie Qi swallowed, burying his head lower.
Wen Jiang made sounds when he felt good—not coquettish moans, but like soaking in a hot spring, or lazily stretching after a desk nap in spring sunlight. Xie Qi used them to gauge his performance, instinctively adjusting.
Lately, compared to the hotel, Wen Jiang had grown more “willful.” If Xie Qi didn’t do well, Wen Jiang would tug his hair to reposition him, press his head deeper, or grind his foot harder as a hint.
Xie Qi couldn’t stop it—this behavior stemmed from him. If he weren’t honestly aroused, if he truly hated it, Wen Jiang wouldn’t do it.
So contradictory…
Xie Qi pondered this unsolvable proposition once again. Because he found it cute, found it alluring, he couldn’t help wanting to satisfy the other’s demands—and it was so hard to disobey the other’s commands. It felt like even without the Collar, an invisible leash was still looped around his neck. One tug, and his body yearned to move according to the other’s will. The end result looked the same on the surface, but the underlying logic was worlds apart.
All these emotions and desires tangled together. What he was doing right now—was it an aggressive act of greedy indulgence, the kind that wanted to tear the other apart and devour them whole? Or was it… an urge to submit, to serve without restraint? Xie Qi couldn’t make sense of it. He hadn’t yet learned how to handle this contradiction.
But one thing was beyond doubt: when Wen Jiang felt good and let out that satisfied sigh, the sound hitting his ears made him instinctively bury his head even lower.
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