The atmosphere sank into silence alongside Duan Zhao’s contemplation. He wore no smile while lost in thought.
Ji Zhi wanted to say something, but he worried that speaking too much would only lead to more mistakes. For the moment, he held his tongue.
Yet watching Duan Zhao suddenly fall silent, his face devoid of any amusement, left Ji Zhi feeling uneasy.
An expressionless Duan Zhao didn’t exert the same crushing pressure as Fu Huixu might have. Still, for Ji Zhi, this abrupt silence was far from a good sign.
He still remembered his first one-on-one session with Duan Zhao. The man had made it clear from the start: he could provide Ji Zhi with enough money to out-earn every other streamer on the platform, but only if Ji Zhi kept him as his sole top fan.
Back then, Ji Zhi had been inexperienced. After one stream, he’d unwittingly added another enthusiastic fan to his list.
He recalled that one-on-one session vividly. Duan Zhao had gone silent for a moment.
Unable to see the man’s face, Ji Zhi had no idea what expression he wore. Not yet sensing the danger, Ji Zhi had desperately tried to spark a conversation and break the quiet. “These are the sleep aid props I prepared today. Which one would you like to hear first…?”
After he introduced them one by one, a few more seconds ticked by before Duan Zhao’s voice finally emerged. Low and somber, it laid out exactly what Ji Zhi had to do next.
Upon hearing those instructions, Ji Zhi had nearly knocked over the prop beside him—
This time, though Duan Zhao had selected a prop, it wasn’t for use on the microphone like before. No, it was to be used on Ji Zhi himself.
His fingertips had gripped that velvet-soft brush countless times by then, but this occasion felt utterly unfamiliar.
It was simply too ticklish—and not just a pure itch, but something laced with an indescribable sensation that Ji Zhi couldn’t quite put into words.
The moment a soft hum escaped his nostrils, the voice of his second-place top fan cut in from the other end. “Don’t make a sound.”
“Keep going.”
But his second-place top fan didn’t call it off. Ji Zhi had no choice but to press on.
He paused to catch his breath, his breathing slightly disordered, before trying again.
The brush trailed slowly down the line of his waist and abdomen, from that slender grip of a waist and further downward.
This time, he bit his lower lip to stifle any noise.
The room grew extraordinarily quiet, save for the faint rustle of the soft brush tips gliding over skin. Amplified by the microphone held close, the sound transmitted faithfully to the other side of the screen.
…
Even now, Ji Zhi could recall the feel of that day’s steel pen, water balloon, and other sleep aid props on his own body.
None of them harmed the skin, but with Ji Zhi’s naturally fair and delicate complexion—and the prolonged exposure—faint red marks had lingered afterward.
A light touch brought a prickling itch tinged with faint pain, as if reminding him of what had transpired that day.
Fortunately, they had faded without leaving permanent scars. Otherwise, Ji Zhi would have fretted over how to appear on his next stream.
From then on, he’d grown genuinely afraid of Duan Zhao’s silences. If the man could punish him like this from across a screen, what would happen in person?
Afterward, he’d been exceedingly cautious. Duan Zhao had made him do similar things on occasion, but never for so long, and never leaving marks.
He just hadn’t expected to encounter another of those silences now.
If he didn’t know that Duan Zhao already had his basic information—if running away wouldn’t solve anything, since the monk might flee but the temple remained—Ji Zhi would have bolted during the quiet.
As Ji Zhi stewed in his anxiety, Duan Zhao finally spoke, his voice slow and measured. “So, you don’t like Fu Huixu. It’s Fu Huixu who likes you?”
Ji Zhi had gradually calmed during the silence and spotted an opening. He feigned confusion and innocence at once. “I don’t know what he’s thinking.”
“He probably doesn’t like me. He’s never confessed or anything…”
His pupils were a clear, moist ink-black, like obsidian soaked in a stream. The natural droop of his eyes and the slight furrow of his brows only amplified his air of innocence.
At that moment, Ji Zhi deployed every ounce of his acting skill, hoping to navigate this hurdle.
Duan Zhao gazed into those beautiful, guileless black eyes.
By his usual standards, when doubt arose, he wouldn’t bother asking Ji Zhi. He’d simply contact his secretary for verification. Yet here he was, instinctively questioning the young man—and the emotion that surged before any skepticism, upon hearing the denial, was one of pleasure.
It was, of course, the answer he’d wanted to hear.
Duan Zhao had long realized that since encountering Ji Zhi, his rationality kept getting swayed by the young man. At first, he’d only meant to treat him as an online pet to soothe him to sleep. But gradually, Ji Zhi had carved out a place in his heart.
Still, Duan Zhao knew full well that recognizing this now was too late.
Otherwise, he would have severed contact the instant he noticed his feelings, rather than letting things drift until they culminated in this face-to-face meeting.
His tone returned to its prior unhurried calm. “I believe you.”
“But you have to move out.”
Ji Zhi had felt a spark of excitement at the first half of that statement, but the second half stunned him. “…Move out?”
Duan Zhao had brought it up before, but back then, Ji Zhi had refused because Fu Huixu was about to move out anyway.
Duan Zhao continued, “I’ll arrange a house for you, close to school. A driver will handle picking you up and dropping you off.”
“I’ll take care of the paperwork.”
He was willing to trust Ji Zhi’s words, but not Fu Huixu. Nor did he want Ji Zhi living with the man.
Hearing this now, Ji Zhi still wanted to refuse—for the same reasons as before.
Moving into a house under Duan Zhao’s name would be like falling right into the wolf’s den!
Duan Zhao was far harder to fool than Fu Huixu. The longer he spent with the man, the greater the risk of exposure.
And how would he even explain moving out to Fu Huixu? If Fu Huixu got angry and confronted Duan Zhao directly, his double-dealing would come to light in no time. After all, Duan Zhao had ties to Fu Huixu’s father, and Fu Huixu could easily track him down for answers…
To Duan Zhao, Ji Zhi’s reluctance took on a different meaning entirely.
Duan Zhao pressed, “Are you reluctant to part from him?”
A hint of elder-like teasing colored his tone, and he even softened his voice, as if to mask the flicker of irritation this suspicion stirred in him.
But Ji Zhi could tell this was no joke.
Ji Zhi replied, “Of course not. I’m just used to dorm living…”
That posed no issue for Duan Zhao. “I’ll have the room redesigned to match your dorm’s style exactly.”
Ji Zhi fell silent.
That really wasn’t necessary; he didn’t miss the dorm aesthetic that much.
Ji Zhi racked his brain for a solution but couldn’t come up with one on the spot. He settled for a step back. “Let me think about it.”
“I have trouble adjusting to new environments. It took me a while to get used to the dorms, and now moving again… I need time to consider.”
Seeing that Ji Zhi hadn’t outright refused again, Duan Zhao didn’t press for an immediate answer. Instead, he agreed to give the young man time.
Ji Zhi was quietly pleased; that bought him more space to devise a refusal.
Duan Zhao added, “But as for Fu Huixu…”
Ji Zhi’s heart skipped at the mention of the name, bracing for what came next.
Yet Duan Zhao trailed off and didn’t continue.
Just as Ji Zhi opened his mouth to ask, the sound of the door opening rang out.
Fu Huixu had returned from his call.
Ji Zhi quickly fell silent. He stole a glance at Duan Zhao and saw the man’s composure fully restored, as if nothing had happened. Ji Zhi let out a quiet breath of relief.
Fu Huixu sat back down beside Ji Zhi. “I was handling some company matters just now,” he said.
Ji Zhi replied, “…I see.”
He’d already heard as much from Duan Zhao.
Duan Zhao spoke up right after, cutting into their exchange.
He turned to Fu Huixu, concern threading his tone. “Do you like Xiao Zhi?”
Ji Zhi: !!!
Why was Duan Zhao asking that out of nowhere?
He quickly realized, though: Duan Zhao knew the earlier talk was mere speculation on his part. This was a way to probe further.
Ji Zhi forced himself not to betray any tension, waiting for Fu Huixu’s response.
Fu Huixu’s voice remained even. “I like him.”
“We’re friends.”
His tone was cool and detached, carrying no extra emotion, as if stating something utterly mundane.
Even so, knowing the truth—and aware of Duan Zhao’s budding suspicions toward Fu Huixu—Ji Zhi still felt on edge.
He also spotted another crucial problem.
Previously, he’d used the excuse that Fu Huixu hated gay men to get Duan Zhao to pose as his uncle.
Now that Duan Zhao knew Fu Huixu wasn’t gay, would he deny being his uncle…?
Fortunately, Duan Zhao didn’t shatter their fabricated family bond.
Duan Zhao lowered his gaze. Ji Zhi couldn’t read the emotion there, only hearing the smile in his voice. “That’s good, then.”
“Thank you for looking after Xiao Zhi all this time.”
Fu Huixu frowned.
He disliked how the words seemed to draw a line between him and Ji Zhi, as if Duan Zhao and the young man formed their own unit. He offered no reply, though Duan Zhao appeared unperturbed.
After dinner, as Ji Zhi pondered how to excuse himself, Duan Zhao preempted him by claiming he had business and offered to drive them back to school.
Ji Zhi and Fu Huixu returned to the dorm first.
The moment they stepped inside, Fu Huixu spoke up. “Baby, did I do well today?”
Ji Zhi answered, “…Very well.”
It would have been even better if his gaze hadn’t lingered so much, but Ji Zhi reconsidered. Given Fu Huixu’s reputation, his mere presence was enough to fuel Duan Zhao’s suspicions.
At least he hadn’t let Fu Huixu call him “Baby” again, or it would have been adding fuel to the fire.
Although he had no idea why Duan Zhao had simply let him and Fu Huixu return, it was still good news for Ji Zhi.
Ji Zhi flopped onto the bed. Since there was no time for live streaming anyway, he figured he might as well rest.
Fu Huixu didn’t have the habit of taking an afternoon nap, but upon seeing Ji Zhi lying there, he paused for a moment before lying down on the other bed. He took care not to make any noise.
After learning that Ji Zhi was Zhi Zhi, Fu Huixu had considered pushing the two beds together, but Ji Zhi had refused.
The other man had explained that he was accustomed to sleeping alone and that sharing a bed with someone else would disrupt his rest. Fu Huixu had let the matter drop for the time being.
After all, Ji Zhi was right there in front of him. There was no need to rush.
Fu Huixu felt no trace of sleepiness. Instead, he pulled out his phone and began searching for dating guides.
He had never paid attention to such things before. But ahead of his date with Ji Zhi, he had removed Fu Qingyang from his blacklist, and his brother had recommended these resources.
Fu Huixu studied the guides with the same seriousness he reserved for company reports, weighing which ones to try.
He planned to take Ji Zhi out on Sunday or sometime next week, so he read with particular care.
A message arrived from the butler: he had finished sorting the collars and other items Fu Huixu had purchased earlier.
Fu Huixu had bought quite a few, which had taken the butler some time to organize.
Fu Huixu considered for a moment, then instructed the butler to bring them up right away.
Ji Zhi had only intended to lie down for a little while, but after the tension of the morning finally eased, he drifted off to sleep.
When he awoke, the curtains shrouded the windows completely, leaving the room in pitch darkness.
As Ji Zhi stirred, the warm yellow glow of the lights filled the space once more.
He glanced at the time. It was already eight in the evening.
Ah, time for dinner.
He would surely be dining with Fu Huixu again. The upside was that he didn’t need to decide on a menu—Fu Huixu’s selections would suffice.
Ji Zhi turned toward Fu Huixu’s bed, only to find it empty. At the same moment, a voice—familiar yet oddly distant—spoke up. “Mr. Ji, you’re awake.”
Ji Zhi had assumed Fu Huixu had turned on the lights. Hearing the voice now, he realized there was someone else in the room.
He looked toward the sound and immediately understood the voice’s familiarity.
It belonged to Fu Huixu’s butler. Ji Zhi had interacted with him a few times before and naturally remembered the man’s tone.
His gaze swept the room. The butler was the only one there—Fu Huixu was nowhere in sight.
No sounds came from the bathroom, either. Fu Huixu was probably not inside.
Strange.
