After all, they were in a hospital room. No matter what, things couldn’t get too out of hand, or it would be hard to wrap up neatly.
So Song Linyu switched to another way of paying his compensation.
At that moment, he resembled some small, pampered pet even more—teeth gently retracted as he nibbled cautiously. Every so often, he would extend his tongue like a cat lapping water from a porcelain dish, curling it lightly to savor slowly.
His hands weren’t idle either. The redness at his knuckles had been rubbed even more prominent, creating a stark contrast.
Fu Yanzong loved this earnest look of his. He lifted a fingertip, stroking Song Linyu’s hair neither lightly nor heavily, then slowly pressed deeper. Finally, with a smile, he murmured, “Good boy.”
Song Linyu’s eyes grew even redder.
At that very moment, Su Tang—who had just been safely transferred from the operating room to a regular ward in Room 308—lay on the hospital bed. Even as the surrounding doctors and nurses marveled at his astonishing recovery speed, he couldn’t leap out of bed right then to settle scores.
At his bedside, aside from his assistant Fan Feng, stood Ji Cheng, Fu Yanzong’s elusive manager who always seemed to appear and vanish like a dragon in the mist.
Ji Cheng slowly regarded Su Tang with his eyes closed, saying nothing. His expression grew complicated as he averted his gaze, fixing it instead on the completed medical report filled with data.
Fan Feng eyed him with open hostility and asked bluntly, “You’re Fu Yanzong’s manager now, right? You have nothing to do with our Tang Tang anymore. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. Are you here for yourself, or for Fu Yanzong?”
Ji Cheng adjusted his glasses, his tone flat. “Fu Yanzong’s affairs have never been mine to manage. Besides, he’s probably too busy to see me right now.”
“What do you mean?” Fan Feng frowned.
His mind was filled only with the mindset that Su Tang had drilled into him. Without a second thought, he snapped angrily, “What could be more important than worrying about our Tang Tang?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he caught Ji Cheng glancing at him with a mocking half-smile. The look behind those lenses carried an uncomfortable edge of sarcasm.
“That must mean there are plenty of people,” Ji Cheng replied. He bent down, adjusting Su Tang’s pillow with exaggerated tenderness, and said with utmost concern, “After all, President Song rushed over the moment he heard.”
At the mention of Song Linyu’s name, Fan Feng turned downright fawning. He gave Ji Cheng a quick once-over and said with disdain, “Of course. President Song must have come as soon as he got the news to stand up for our Tang Tang. Not like you…”
Ji Cheng offered him a good-natured smile, but inwardly, he thought with icy detachment: Stand up for him? Song Linyu had walked right into Young Master Fu’s clutches of his own accord.
When Ji Cheng arrived at the hospital, Xiao Sun had already updated him on Fu Yanzong’s condition. Even though the report indicated no major issues, Ji Cheng still planned to check Room 307 to ask about Fu Yanzong’s status and the cause of the incident.
But as he rounded the stairs, he spotted Song Linyu’s dejected back retreating down the hall.
It was like a completely different person from his usual self.
If Song Linyu had come to demand justice, Ji Cheng couldn’t imagine anyone looking so pitiful while picking a fight—hesitating to even push open a door, like some abandoned puppy.
So Ji Cheng had no intention of playing third wheel. He didn’t want Fu Yanzong docking his year-end bonus over it.
Moreover, Song Linyu had warned him years ago about what to say and what not to say. Before that, Ji Cheng had diligently dug up plenty of dirt and handled messes for Fu Yanzong, so he knew exactly what their past relationship had been.
Ji Cheng wasn’t foolish enough to cross Dongyu yet. And even if he disliked the young masters’ high-and-mighty attitudes, he had to admit Fu Yanzong was one of the more normal ones in that crowd.
So… there was no need to tell Fan Feng—or even Su Tang—any of this.
Let them think what they wanted.
As for what Song Linyu was doing right now…?
Well, there were plenty of possibilities.
…
While the others chattered away, the man at the center of their discussion—Song Linyu—couldn’t have cared less. His vision blurred, he focused intently on the expression of the person before him.
Fu Yanzong made him press his tongue tip against the roof of his mouth. Even lifting his gaze took effort, but Song Linyu didn’t want to look away. So he leaned forward willingly, sliding just a bit deeper.
Fu Yanzong seemed swept up in desire too. His face expressionless, he furrowed his brow slightly and gripped Song Linyu’s jaw with cold precision.
His deep, dark eyes, misty with steam, took on a faint flush. When half-lidded, the mole at the corner sank into the vivid color.
Fu Yanzong pressed hard, showing no mercy, and didn’t pull back. In that final moment, Song Linyu’s sweat-slick palm wrapped hot and soft around his wrist. Helplessly tightening, he then swallowed every last bit obediently.
There was no confrontation, no shouting, no clashing egos as Fan Feng had imagined.
His mind held only the delightful after-dinner gossip Su Tang had shared with him in private. Naturally, he pictured Song Linyu haughtily shoving open Fu Yanzong’s door, then unleashing cold, merciless wrath to make him pay.
…Of course, Fu Yanzong had indeed learned Song Linyu’s “methods.”
Song Linyu looked rather disheveled now. His damp black hair clung messily to his face, and as he bowed his head to swallow obediently, he seemed utterly submissive. There was even a dazed innocence in his eyes as he stared fixedly at Fu Yanzong’s face.
Fu Yanzong reached out helplessly, crooking a knuckle to brush lightly at the corner of Song Linyu’s mouth.
That face held none of the icy disdain or impatience he showed when speaking to Su Tang or others. Instead, there were only eyes brimming with watery desire and lips flushed red, glistening with syrup and coconut milk.
The overhead lights were too harsh, bathing everything in stark white. The overpowering scent of disinfectant drowned out the cloying sweetness, drifting out the slightly open window into the rustling trees.
Fu Yanzong silently watched the milky light cascading down like cream. As he gently wiped, he mischievously pressed Song Linyu’s still-parted lips.
Creamy white liquid trickled lavishly along Fu Yanzong’s defined knuckles. Song Linyu watched him tensely. Fu Yanzong curved his lips and lowered his gaze, pressing a bit harder to clean some of the mess from Song Linyu’s disarrayed face.
…Or perhaps make it messier. But who could blame him?
Song Linyu certainly wouldn’t.
Fu Yanzong released his grip, rubbing his thumb against his knuckle. Inevitably, fine threads stretched out—like pulled sugar crystals.
Song Linyu paused for a moment. Before Fu Yanzong could say anything, he leaned forward, shoulders dipping, and hooked those sugary strands from between Fu Yanzong’s fingers, licking them clean one by one.
Fu Yanzong couldn’t hold back a laugh. With a sigh, he pulled Song Linyu into his arms, drawing a tissue like he was smoothing a puppy’s fur and pressing it to his dazed face. Then, eyes lowered seriously, he began tidying him up from the damp lashes downward.
Song Linyu clasped his wrist, playing obedient as he licked his lips and kissed the slender bone. In a low voice, he said, “Thank you for the treat, brother. I love it.”
“Wasn’t this supposed to be atonement?”
How had it turned into a reward?
Fu Yanzong arched a brow slightly, then flicked his forehead hard.
…
Meanwhile, in Su Tang’s room, Fan Feng shoved Ji Cheng impatiently, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Alright, we won’t trouble you anymore. I’m the one who can take care of our Tang Tang best.”
He had reason to be rude. Though Ji Cheng was now fawned over in the industry as a “top agent” with connections and savvy, everyone knew it was just luck. If Song Wen hadn’t picked him years ago to manage Fu Yanzong, Ji Cheng wouldn’t have his current resources and network.
Deep down, most thought he had no real talent.
Ji Cheng never denied the rumors—he even admitted them openly.
So among Su Tang’s horde of “admirers,” Fan Feng gave Ji Cheng the coldest shoulder.
Of course, the biggest reason might be that all his fawning hadn’t earned him any status with Su Tang, and he refused to admit his tastes were off.
But Ji Cheng didn’t get angry at Fan Feng’s rudeness. Instead, he studied Su Tang’s face meticulously, lost in thought for a long while.
For some reason, he could barely remember why he’d approached Su Tang in the first place.
Was it like?
But now, it didn’t feel that way.
Ji Cheng freely admitted he loved money and status. By that logic, Su Tang offered no real benefits. And in terms of looks, value, or brains—even if he lost his mind and fell hard—Fu Yanzong would still be the better pick.
No, better not.
Ji Cheng doubted he’d warm to Fu Yanzong’s vicious private side. That was worlds apart from his fan-facing persona; only Song Linyu could probably stomach the extremes.
Besides, if Song Linyu was still tangled up with Fu Yanzong, what had been the point of shelling out a fortune in penalties to sign Su Tang away?
As Ji Cheng pondered this seriously, his phone rang shrilly.
His eyes fell on the caller ID.
【NOVA—Cheng Yan】
Cheng Yan, the second most popular member of Su Tang’s boy group and the only one with real skill as a rapper. Fans had hailed him a prodigy idol at debut.
Of course, aside from Su Tang—who had been personally poached by Dongyu—the rest of NOVA’s members were all artists under Ji Cheng’s management.
Fan Feng, standing to one side, also noticed the caller ID. Before Ji Cheng could even raise a hand to answer, he eagerly pressed the call button and greeted the caller with enthusiasm. “Little Yan, it’s me—Fan Feng, Su Tang’s assistant.”
Cheng Yan paused for a stunned instant. Moments later, his somewhat muffled voice drifted over from the other end of the line.
“Oh… it’s you. Where’s Ji Cheng? I heard Little Su got into an accident. Is he doing okay? If it’s convenient, I’ll swing by later to see him.”
Fan Feng nodded vigorously, already gearing up to reply that it was more than convenient—extremely convenient, in fact. After all, Cheng Yan and Tang Tang had the closest bond in the group; one visit from him might even cure Su Tang’s illness outright—
But before the words could leave his mouth, Ji Cheng snatched the phone back and gripped it firmly in his palm.
Ji Cheng switched off speaker mode and put it to his ear, catching the faint, lingering echo of Cheng Yan’s slightly hoarse final syllable.
After a brief pause, Ji Cheng spoke into the receiver. “No need to come.”
“…” Cheng Yan fell silent. A moment later, he shot back, “Is that so? Sounds like Mr. Ji is already there.”
The line went dead as soon as the words were out.
Ji Cheng’s brow furrowed slightly.
Cheng Yan had always been blunt to the point of rudeness. While other newcomers made a point of politely calling their agent “bro” to build rapport, he stuck rigidly to “Mr. Ji,” keeping everyone at arm’s length.
Yet, for once, Ji Cheng didn’t feel a spark of anger.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket, leaving the rest of what he’d been about to say unsaid.
By then, Ji Cheng figured he’d lingered long enough in Su Tang’s Room 308. He’d come today not just to check on the two victims of the car crash, but also to discuss something else with Fu Yanzong.
With that, he turned on his heel and swiftly left the room.
What Ji Cheng didn’t realize, however, was that Su Tang—who was supposed to be out cold—had overheard every word of the exchange.
