Chapter 8: Kidnapped at the Same Time as My Boyfriend’s White Moonlight

◎Let Me See It◎

Green Face and Qiang Ji were just about to climb in when they heard Boss’s bold declaration.

Both froze mid-motion and exchanged a look.

Green Face recovered first. He yanked open the passenger door, slid in, and shut it behind him.

Qiang Ji’s mouth twitched. The passenger seat held one person, and the back seat was—well, not exactly convenient for him right now.

So he did the thoughtful thing: shut the door for Lu Fei, then walked around to the rear and climbed into the trunk.

Wen Tong had no choice but to lie flat on the seat cushion. The seatbacks were tall; he couldn’t see what anyone else was doing. He only felt the vehicle shift and begin to roll slowly forward.

Lu Fei hadn’t let go of his hand. A calloused thumb kept stroking his fingers, and his gaze was darkening by the second.

Wen Tong’s lashes fluttered nonstop. His nerves wound tighter and tighter—terrified Lu Fei would snap and do something, say something.

His mind raced. He thought of how much Lu Fei despised Xie You, and took a gamble: “Don’t forget—I’m Xie You’s boyfriend.”

Lu Fei’s tone went ice-cold. “And?”

Wen Tong noticed the hand-stroking had stopped, and decided to keep grossing him out: “Xie You and I have been sleeping together for ages. We’re glued at the hip, day in, day out!”

Lu Fei could tell he was lying. But the moment Xie You’s name dropped out of Wen Tong’s mouth, a nameless, vicious anger flared up from somewhere deep in his chest.

He called the bluff on the spot. “Glued at the hip, and he hasn’t noticed you’ve been kidnapped?”

Wen Tong didn’t even blink. “Because he’s busy with work! And I—I—”

Lu Fei: “You what?”

Wen Tong gritted his teeth. “Even that needs rest, okay?!”

Lu Fei: “…”

He watched Wen Tong’s lips part and close, part and close, the faint glimpse of a trembling red tongue between them. The fire in his gut burned hotter.

Such a fine mouth. Why does it only ever say things I don’t want to hear?

Really fucking deserves to be bitten.

Wen Tong had no idea what he was thinking. Seeing that Lu Fei had actually stopped stroking his hand, he figured he’d successfully grossed him out with the Xie You routine.

He pressed his advantage: “Even breeding boars and stud horses can’t go at it every day, let alone two grown men like me and Xie You. Muscles need recovery—mmph.”

The word time never made it out. Lu Fei’s mouth crashed against his.

Pressing down hard on his lips, a scorching breath washing over him.

Wen Tong’s eyes went wide. Fuck! A man just kissed him?!

He thrashed on instinct, swinging wildly, and Lu Fei caught his hands, bent a knee to pin his legs, and had him locked flat against the seat.

He twisted his head to dodge—Lu Fei seized his chin.

The pain forced his mouth open, and the other man’s tongue shoved in between his lips and teeth.

Lu Fei kissed like he’d never kissed anyone before—biting and gnawing at his lips, tongue scraping rough and crude through his mouth, like he wanted to drain every drop of moisture from it.

The wet sounds of licking and swallowing echoed through the cramped cabin, loud enough to make a person’s face burn.

Wen Tong’s body was trapped. It hurt, it was miserable—this mad dog nearly kissed him to tears.

He bent his knee and, without a shred of strategy, drove it hard into Lu Fei’s stomach.

Lu Fei grunted at the blow to his abdomen, and only then did he slowly pull back, straighten up, and look down at Wen Tong.

His brow was furrowed, eyes hazy with a misty film, lips swollen and flushed crimson, bleeding a glossy pale red at the edges—an indescribable sort of lewdness.

Wen Tong scrubbed viciously at his own mouth.

Furious and panicked, he blurted out at Lu Fei, “Xie You’s kissed this mouth of mine plenty of times too!”

Lu Fei sneered. “Say his name again. I’ll kiss you again.”

Wen Tong was starting to stammer. “D-doesn’t it disgust you?!”

Lu Fei: “You don’t find him disgusting. Why would I?”

“Just now I kissed you clean. Your mouth’s full of my taste now.”

Wen Tong was too stunned to speak. He knew Lu Fei was a deviant—he just never imagined he was this much of a deviant.

Lu Fei lifted a hand and slowly wiped the wetness from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, eyes vicious. “The mouth on top, I can kiss clean. The mouth down below, I can fuck clean too.”

“Xie You’s boyfriend. Sounds so fuckable.”

Wen Tong’s mouth fell open, his expression going slack with shock. “Y-you—don’t tell me you’re into Xie You?!”

Lu Fei: “…”

He leaned down slowly, bringing himself right up to Wen Tong’s face, nearly nose to nose.

He breathed in the faint sweetness between Wen Tong’s lips and teeth, and curled his mouth into a grin. “I said it before. Say Xie You’s name one more time, and I kiss you one more time.”

Wen Tong’s heart lurched. He didn’t dare say the name again, so he cursed instead: “You’re out of your goddamn mind!”

Lu Fei said flatly, “Cursing counts too.”

The moment the words landed, Wen Tong watched a black partition rise slowly between the front seats and the back, sealing off the view.

Then a small, timid voice drifted from the rear: “Third Master, don’t worry, there’s noise-canceling headphones in the trunk—I’m putting them on right now. I won’t hear a thing no matter what you do.”

“Got ’em on!”

After that, silence.

Lu Fei: “…”

Under the circumstances, Wen Tong was convinced Lu Fei meant to go through with it. Panicked, he thrashed with everything he had, punching and kicking.

They were face-to-face, and Lu Fei nearly took a kick to a critical spot. He caught Wen Tong’s foot at once.

It hadn’t connected—just grazed by the toe of the shoe.

His brows knitted. His breathing dropped a register.

Wen Tong kept squirming. Those slender arms and legs did him no real damage—nothing painful, nothing even irritating.

It was less a beating than it was kindling, sparking and catching fire against him.

Lu Fei frowned, clamped his hands around Wen Tong’s waist, and hauled him up into his lap.

Wen Tong’s line of sight shifted—he was forced to sit on Lu Fei’s lap, facing him square on.

Lu Fei leaned back against the seat, lifted his eyelids, and his gaze caught helplessly on those crimson lips. “I don’t have a kink for doing it in front of an audience.”

“But if you keep moving,” he said, “I can’t promise anything.”

Wen Tong opened his mouth to speak—and his body went rigid. He didn’t dare move a muscle.

Not because Lu Fei was holding him. Because he could feel exactly how solid the man’s trousers had gotten.

They were both men. He knew precisely what that was.

Even after getting hit?

Wen Tong cursed silently. Fucking hell. Absolute psycho.

…………

The SUV tore toward the edge of the docks, smashed straight through the fence, and roared off into the night.

A fleet of police cars and ambulances sat at the dock entrance. Officers swept the area with guns raised, checking bodies, searching for victims.

“President Xie is on the first floor of the building!” an officer shouted.

A doctor nearby grabbed his kit and hurried inside. In the dim living room, a man sat on the sofa.

He fumbled for the light, then strode to the sofa. “Where are you hurt?”

The man’s eyes were shut, jaw clenched tight. He slowly forced out two words: “I’m fine.”

The doctor saw blood spattered all over him, saw the right hand dangling off the edge of the sofa trembling faintly, and pressed: “Are you sure? I’d strongly recommend a hospital check-up.”

At that, the man slowly opened his eyes. Beneath the black, sunken depths churned pure gloom and cruelty, and a freezing gaze cut through the lenses straight at him, enough to make the blood run cold.

The doctor froze where he stood, a chill seeping into his bones.

Xie You stared at him without expression, spacing each word: “I. Am. Fine.”

Soon the police chief entered with a few subordinates. “Young President Xie, the kidnappers drove off. We’ve already sent men in pursuit, and every exit route out of the city has been alerted—there’s no way they get out of Xingyun Port.”

Xie You reined in the darkness in his eyes and said, half-lidded, “Thank you for your trouble, Bureau Chief Chen.”

“They took my betrothed with them.”

At that, Bureau Chief Chen’s expression turned grave. “We will rescue the hostage. You have my word.”

Xie You nodded.

“Found Bai Yue!” someone shouted from outside.

Something shifted in Xie You’s expression. He said to Chen, “I’ll go check on Bai Yue.”

“Of course, of course.” Chen nodded, watching his retreating back, then turned to the doctor. “Young President Xie isn’t seriously hurt, is he?”

The doctor finally snapped out of it, still shaken by that look. He stammered, “He—he said he’s fine.”

“He should still get a full workup at the hospital,” Chen said, then turned to the captain of the squad beside him. “Young President Xie is an open, generous man—he’s helped the bureau plenty of times. He’s one of Tongcheng’s most prominent young entrepreneurs. This case must be investigated thoroughly. Find those kidnappers—”

The doctor heard this and couldn’t help thinking of that devouring stare just now. Open and generous couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Xie You walked out of the building and saw not Bai Yue’s corpse, but a living man.

His eyes darkened. He watched Bai Yue emerge slowly from the gap between shipping containers, right arm hanging limp, left hand leveling a gun straight at him, face cold.

A second later, the gun was knocked from his hand by the police.

Officers caught and supported him, shouting, “Doctor! Over here!”

Xie You’s gaze swept over Bai Yue—aside from the gunshot wound in his right arm, not a single fatal injury.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and leaned back against the wall, his body swallowed by the dark, nearly merging with it.

Every scheme calculated. And yet one slip undid them all.

He’d calculated that Lu Fei wouldn’t keep his word—that he’d move against Bai Yue.

He’d calculated the police would arrive in time. Calculated that even if Lu Fei survived today and made it out of the country, he’d never get the chance to come back.

But he hadn’t calculated that Wen Tong would risk his life to save Bai Yue—that Bai Yue wouldn’t die.

Hadn’t anticipated that Wen Tong wouldn’t listen to him, and would end up taken hostage by Lu Fei.

He never should have used Wen Tong as a piece on the board.

He’d lost the most precious thing he had.

Xie You shut his eyes. The veins at his temple bulged. He strode to a secluded corner, pulled out the phone he’d taken off the sniper, and made a call.

“Put eyes on every dock at Xingyun Port.”

“Lu Fei will likely leave the country by water.”

“Mm. Notify the police—no cooperation.”

“The moment you spot Lu Fei—” Xie You’s eyes went pitch-black, surging with killing intent, “—kill him on sight.”

…………

Elsewhere, the SUV had been tearing down a forest road for over twenty minutes.

Wen Tong was still forced to sit in Lu Fei’s lap.

The partition up front was well soundproofed—he couldn’t hear a thing from the front, and the kidnapper in the trunk had gone so quiet he might as well not exist.

It was as if the car held only the two of them.

Wen Tong gripped the handrail white-knuckled, so tense his hands and feet ached and cramped.

Every time the SUV hit a dip or a speed bump, his body lurched on its own, bumping into Lu Fei.

Every shift, every graze, and the heat radiating off Lu Fei’s body only climbed higher. Which made Wen Tong even more afraid to move.

Didn’t dare shift. Didn’t dare make a sound. Didn’t even dare blink carelessly—terrified Lu Fei would claim he’d blinked his left eye first, so now something down below had to bloom.

Wen Tong was miserable. Lu Fei was worse.

But the man had hauled him over himself—as a threat, a scare tactic—and now he couldn’t bring himself to lose face and tell him to move.

Face cold, he rolled down the window, hoping the cold wind would cool him off. Instead, he spotted a sedan parked out in the wild.

The car was rocking front to back, faint moans leaking out—unmistakable in the dead quiet of the countryside.

Fuck. I’m dying of blue balls over here and you bastards are out here living it up. Lu Fei cursed inwardly, raised his suppressed pistol, and shot out both rear tires.

The rear tires deflated, the chassis sagging. The man and woman inside saw the gun in Lu Fei’s hand, caught on fast, and screamed—shrill enough to pierce the night sky.

“AHHHHHH—”

Lu Fei holstered the gun, tossed it aside.

Then he fished out a cigarette and a lighter, and pressed the lighter into Wen Tong’s hand.

Wen Tong didn’t dare argue. He took it obediently.

Lu Fei held the cigarette between his fingers, voice hoarse: “Light it for me.”

Wen Tong clicked the lighter at once, thinking, Forget lighting your cigarette—I’d happily light up your whole damn family.

Lu Fei took a drag. The nicotine settled him a little.

He looked at Wen Tong’s nervous little expression and felt an itch in his chest. Deliberately, he asked, “Whose is bigger?”

Wen Tong stared at him blankly.

Lu Fei exhaled a slow stream of smoke. His collar hung wide open, revealing a stretch of wheat-colored chest, the lines smooth, brimming with raw power.

Wreathed in smoke, the whole of him gave off a thuggish, feral wildness.

“Xie You’s bigger? Or mine?”

Now Wen Tong got it—the bastard was making a dirty joke.

He tugged at the corner of his mouth, smiling without a shred of warmth. “Neither. Mine’s the biggest.”

Lu Fei’s brow arched. His gaze slid downward, fixing on that spot with the brazen stare of a thug and a bandit. “Yeah? Let me see it.”

Wen Tong: “…”