Chapter 15: Kidnapped at the Same Time as My Boyfriend’s White Moonlight

◎My name is Lu Fei—Fei as in kidnapper.◎

Lu Fei took another step forward, the tips of his shoes pressing against Wen Tong’s, and answered breezily, “Sure. I’ll let some water out.”

“Right inside you.”

Wen Tong: “…Get lost!”

He couldn’t help cursing Lu Fei’s entire ancestral line in his head. What sin had he committed to deserve a Lu Fei?

He dragged in a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and stepped aside to put some distance between them.

Without Lu Fei’s towering frame blocking the way, Wen Tong could finally see into the study.

Six or seven men were inside. Only Green Face looked familiar; the rest he’d never seen before—none of them the kidnappers from Xingyun Port.

Some stood, some sat, their expressions varying, but they all had one thing in common: their necks were craned toward the study door. Clearly they’d taken in the whole scene just now.

Wen Tong didn’t have Lu Fei’s thick skin. His cheeks flushed crimson.

Damn it. Being gawked at like a spectator sport was humiliating enough.

Worse—he’d lost the verbal sparring match with Lu Fei.

Disgraceful. Absolutely disgraceful.

Wen Tong clenched his fists, knowing there was no escape now, and turned to stride back into the room.

Lu Fei stayed where he was, watching that huffy retreating figure, the corners of his mouth curling upward and refusing to come back down.

Seeing one of the main players leave, the yellow-haired man in the study couldn’t hold back: “Third Master, who was that?”

Lu Fei: “Him? He’s—”

Xie You’s partner. Xie You’s boyfriend. Wen Tong. Several terms rolled around in his mouth, then he swallowed them all back down.

Not one of them had anything to do with him.

Lu Fei’s lip twitched, and he said lazily, “Him? He’s my hostage.”

The yellow-haired man blinked, recalling how arrogantly the youth had cursed, and muttered, “Some hostage. Pretty damn cocky.”

With a face that pretty, he’d assumed the kid was a little lover.

He wanted to press further, but the man beside him spoke first: “Third Master, is that kid Xie You’s betrothed?”

At the name Xie You, Lu Fei’s smile faded. He walked into the study. “Betrothed? What betrothed?”

The man had a scar slicing diagonally from his left forehead down beneath his right eye. His unfocused prosthetic eye turned toward Lu Fei as he explained, “Word’s spread all over Xingyun Port—the kidnappers took Xie You’s betrothed.”

“There’s even talk they were planning to marry right after graduation.”

“Bullshit,” Lu Fei said, his eyes dark and grim, his thin lips twisting into a mocking curve. “Xie the Second really knows how to inflate his own importance.”

The scarred man mulled over what that meant. The illustrious Second Young Master of the Xie Family, clinging to someone’s coattails?

What kind of status would that take? What kind of standing?

He couldn’t resist asking Green Face, “Green Face, what’s the story with that hostage?”

Green Face thought it over. “A third-year college student.”

The scarred man: “???”

An ordinary college student and the Second Young Master of the Xie Family—so who exactly was inflating whose importance here?

He didn’t dare ask that out loud. Noticing Lu Fei’s mood had soured again, he said carefully, “So things on Wild Dog’s end are a bit of a mess.”

“The docks turned up a few guns. Xie the Second also forged evidence that Wild Dog was in contact with us. With that proof, the cops started digging.”

“Several docks have been shut down. All our shipments are stuck. I made inquiries up the chain—they say the docks can’t reopen until this whole thing is settled.”

“Third Master, what do we do now?”

Lu Fei’s eyes were half-lidded, his body slanted against the desk, his fingertip stroking the black muzzle of a gun. Unhurried, he said, “The docks being shut down doesn’t hurt only us. The people back home are even more anxious—they want this settled faster than we do.”

“Since Xie the Second wants a betrothed, then let’s give him one.”

The scarred man didn’t follow. “What does that mean?”

Green Face cut in at once, “Understood. I’ll arrange the corpse right away.”

…

Elsewhere.

Wen Tong had returned to the bedroom where he’d woken up.

Only this time, he had someone trailing behind him.

The girl looked to be in her twenties, about his age, with delicate features and a gentle air—nothing at all like Lu Fei and his crew.

Wen Tong stole a couple of extra glances, thinking about how to fish for information.

Under his gaze, her cheeks went red, her eyes darting, too shy to look directly at that impossibly beautiful face.

She said quickly, “I’ll go run the bath.”

With that, she strode into the bathroom, turned on the tub faucet, and adjusted the temperature.

Then she opened the wardrobe, pulled out a full set of fresh clothes, and, head lowered, said in a strange, overly precise tone, “The clothes just arrived. Your size.”

At those words, Wen Tong felt like ants were crawling all over him. He was thoroughly uncomfortable.

He demanded, “How do you know my size?”

“Did that sick pervert strip me?”

The girl froze, seeming to puzzle over what he meant.

After a moment, she carefully pointed at the hoodie Wen Tong was wearing and said slowly, “From your clothes. I know.”

Wen Tong let out a small breath of relief. Good—as long as nobody had undressed him.

She set the fresh clothes in the bathroom and said quietly, “Please bathe first.”

Wen Tong didn’t go bathe. Worried Lu Fei might barge in at any moment, he shut the bedroom door and locked it.

He walked two steps forward, softened his tone, and said to the girl, “My name’s Wen Tong.”

“What’s your name?”

Head still lowered, she said, “My name is Mew.”

Wen Tong paused. It didn’t sound like an English name. He tried it out: “Mew?”

Hearing her own name spoken in the boy’s clear, pleasant voice, her cheeks burned brighter. She said softly, “My Chinese name is Tian Zhuyue.”

Wen Tong followed the thread. “You’re not from Country Hua?”

Tian Zhuyue nodded, then shook her head. “I’m half Chinese, half Thai.”

“Thai?” Wen Tong’s eyelid twitched. “This is Thailand?”

She nodded again, and seeing he didn’t know the place, added, “This is Chonburi Province.”

Wen Tong pressed his lips tight. He only knew a handful of well-known Thai cities. Chonburi, or whatever it was, he’d never heard of.

He looked at Tian Zhuyue and ventured, “Do you have a phone?”

“Could I borrow it to make a call?”

At that, her expression shifted. She shook her head quickly. “No.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t have a phone.”

Seeing her reaction, Wen Tong knew Lu Fei must have given orders.

He didn’t press the girl his own age.

The tub had been filling all the while and was about to overflow. Tian Zhuyue said quietly, “The water’s ready. Please bathe.”

Wen Tong murmured an acknowledgment. He did want to bathe—he just feared Lu Fei would burst in halfway through.

He hesitated, then checked the bathroom door lock. It worked.

Still uneasy, he scanned the bedroom and settled on a rosewood chair.

Wen Tong hauled the rosewood chair toward the bathroom.

Tian Zhuyue stood to the side, watching. She didn’t ask, but there was curiosity in her eyes.

With the girl watching, Wen Tong was too embarrassed to tell the truth. He said offhandedly, “The chair’s useful.”

Tian Zhuyue nodded, half understanding. “Is one chair enough?”

“Enough, enough.” Wen Tong’s old face reddened. He hurried into the bathroom, shut and locked the door, then hooked the chair’s hollow backrest over the doorknob to bar it firmly.

He didn’t soak. He ran the shower instead.

Warm water streamed over his face, washing away the exhaustion.

His mind cleared, and he began to think about his situation.

Mission objective: be shot dead by the kidnappers.

Current predicament: the kidnappers had no intention of killing him—and worse, they wanted his body.

Wen Tong had figured it out. Lu Fei was lucid one moment and unhinged the next, doing whatever he pleased, moods swinging unpredictably.

His lust had nothing to do with whether Wen Tong was Xie You’s boyfriend.

Being Xie You’s boyfriend was merely a bonus in Lu Fei’s eyes.

And even if he weren’t Xie You’s boyfriend, Lu Fei still wouldn’t let him go.

Lu Fei’s interest in him was far too great. Curses and blows didn’t faze him in the least. In the short term, there was no way he’d kill Wen Tong.

He’d only deal with him in other ways.

Wen Tong couldn’t suppress a shudder. The plotline had already collapsed. He couldn’t just sit and wait to die.

The mission of being shot dead by the kidnappers was as good as failed.

He needed to get somewhere safe and wait out the plotline.

He had to run.

Run far, far away from Lu Fei.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the door.

Wen Tong’s eyelid jumped. He shut off the faucet at once, unsure whether it was Tian Zhuyue or Lu Fei outside.

A second later, the doorknob turned.

Then came that familiar derisive laugh.

It was Lu Fei, that sick pervert!

Fuck. Wen Tong cursed inwardly and scrambled out of the tub.

He didn’t even waste time drying off, yanking on his underwear.

Bang—

The door took a vicious kick. With Lu Fei’s freakish strength, that single kick loosened the lock.

The lock wobbled, and the rosewood chair toppled to the floor with a dull thud.

Wen Tong had just pulled on his T-shirt when the door swung open.

Lu Fei stood in the bathroom doorway, his tall frame blocking the sunlight from outside, trapping Wen Tong in the tiny bathroom.

Wen Tong’s heart hammered with nerves. He retreated a flustered step.

The instant he moved, Lu Fei’s gaze dropped to his legs—white to the point of glowing, straight and slender, without an ounce of fat, without a single hair.

Fresh from the shower, his knees and calves were flushed pink, and through the rising steam there was a hint of something sensual.

Lu Fei glanced at the fallen chair and smiled. “Guarding against me?”

Wen Tong could feel the searing weight of his stare, as if it might burn a hole straight through his leg.

He dug his nails into his palm and ground out, “No shit.”

Lu Fei gave a low laugh and kicked the chair aside. In a tone of hypocritical, tender concern, he said, “Then whatever shall we do?”

“This is my turf, and you’re my hostage.”

Wen Tong pressed his lips into a tight line. Inwardly he retorted, Today I’m your hostage—tomorrow you’re the one headed for the executioner.

Lu Fei watched his defiant expression, his throat bobbing.

“I never did introduce myself.”

His tongue pressed against his teeth as he said, slow and deliberate, “My name is Lu Fei. Fei, as in kidnapper.”