Chapter 24: One Minute

Wen Jiang draped his arm over the sofa armrest, fingers half-propped against his chin, silently gazing at the bed beside the sofa. He watched the sheet draped over the foot of the bed occasionally lift at one corner due to the wind in the room.

Light hung down from above, casting thin shadows across his already handsome face. The pupils beneath his long lashes were deep and indifferent, yet the warm tones of the light softened some of that distance. Just looking at his upper body—the custom-tailored formal attire paired with the consistent decor style of the Bohr Hotel—made him seem elegant, gentle, and aristocratic, like a melancholic prince lost in thought.

I finished the extra supplemental math problems in my head.

The double-layer cheese strawberry pie tonight was really delicious… His thoughts drifted lazily onward—from reciting lines from the Drama Club scripts to reviewing the evening’s events. Wen Jiang passed the time in idle rumination, in no particular hurry. He didn’t even need to check his watch to know that dancing as originally planned was now impossible.

The heat waves in his body and the chaos in his mind had both receded along with the ebbing tide of arousal. Wen Jiang’s world sharpened from blur to clarity. The logic that had once smeared like ink on wet paper now wove back into orderly threads.

In short, Wen Jiang’s brain had officially booted up. His body was that of an adult now, and so was his mind.

So, was this one of those “good bros helping each other out” scenarios you occasionally saw in movies or TV shows?

Weird.

But Wen Jiang had to admit, Xie Qi had a point. The effects of a Charm-Type Esper Ability weren’t the same as ordinary physiological urges. His body had shaken off that scorching, sticky heat quickly, no doubt thanks to outside help—perfectly aligning with the theory in Chapter 3, Section 2 of Abilities and Physiology.

Lin Xun, whom he’d tossed into the bathroom, probably hadn’t resolved things yet. The longer he held out, the worse the side effects would get.

As the saying went, better to vent than suppress. But before Peach Fragrance had hit, Lin Xun had also been affected by Dramatic Stage. He’d seen Wen Jiang playing the role of his perfect “ideal type,” which might have raised his “internal standards” too— like being poisoned with an aphrodisiac and still being picky about partners. No easy release there.

Wen Jiang’s situation had gone much more smoothly. As weird as it sounded, if he had to pick one helper from the strangers, the three spectators, or Xie Qi, he’d instantly choose Xie Qi.

And Xie Qi had proven himself a very proactive and capable assistant in action. Though right now… Wen Jiang maintained his pose of silent contemplation, listening to the low panting in the room and feeling the occasional hot breath against his leg. “Xie Qi, you done yet?”

Xie Qi was sprawled across his lap, mumbling a muffled, “Almost.”

That’s what he said five minutes ago.

It wasn’t realistic to expect a one-shot fix for a Charm-Type Esper Ability’s effects, so when Xie Qi first suggested, “One more time?” Wen Jiang—who still felt the remnants of arousal—had seen the logic in it.

He’s thorough, he’d thought silently, committed to minimizing any risks.

When Xie Qi rasped a second time, “One more go?” Wen Jiang—now 80% mentally online—went Hm? in his head, sensing something off. His own temperature had dropped quite a bit, while Xie Qi’s skin burned hotter. Seeing no interest in dancing left in him, Wen Jiang figured returning the favor was fair enough.

But when Xie Qi started a third time with, “One more…” Wen Jiang grabbed his hair expressionlessly and yanked his head up, forcibly pulling them apart.

Xie Qi had been focused on the close-up view before. Now, a slight sting spread across his scalp as his field of vision slammed into Wen Jiang’s rumpled lower hem—contrasting sharply with the still-pristine upper shirt. His throat bobbed.

He’s perking up again.

Wen Jiang: …

Should I not have held back on stepping on him to avoid overstimulating? Maybe I need to stomp harder to deflate him? Wen Jiang reflected for a second.

Young guys had vigorous energy, sure, but this lack of restraint—seamless transitions—wasn’t great for the future, was it? Or was Xie Qi one of those “one-night seven-times starter” types he’d glimpsed in the Drama Club’s shared books?

Xie Qi didn’t seem to be thinking straight either. He was still immersed in some sensation, his gaze locked steadily on Wen Jiang. The emotions in his eyes were layered: confusion about his own state, honest lingering satisfaction, stirring greed, a hint of inexplicable shyness… and joy?

Compared to Wen Jiang, Xie Qi seemed more like the one hit by an ability—or some deliberately misleading exam question. But Peach Fragrance shouldn’t be “contagious”; it couldn’t spread from one person to another through sex—or any behavior. So theoretically, all of Xie Qi’s reactions stemmed from his own hidden kinks.

Maybe his past self-restraint had kept them buried, or maybe this had flung open the doors to a new world… Either way, both Wen Jiang and Xie Qi had clocked it. But as adults, they saw through it without saying—mature handling. Wen Jiang just asked considerately, “You okay?”

Xie Qi shot back instantly, “I’m great.” A man couldn’t admit he wasn’t, and he really was great.

Great or not, no more. “Handle it yourself.” Wen Jiang set a limit. “Last time.”

Xie Qi’s eyelids drooped as he drawled a slow, “Oh.”

Wen Jiang straightened his clothes, looking impeccably put-together from head to toe again. By some unspoken agreement between them, he didn’t tell the kneeling Xie Qi to get up. Xie Qi just leaned his upper body back a bit, one arm still draped over Wen Jiang’s leg, head half-buried to hide his face, the other hand reaching down below.

While Xie Qi took care of himself, Wen Jiang gazed out the window for a bit, did some mental math, reviewed events, felt the room’s air currents. Time ticked by, one minute after another. Now, after his second question got a negative, Wen Jiang knew they had to face facts: Xie Qi apparently couldn’t finish like this.

…Should I have just stepped on him after all?

The prolonged stall brought a new issue: the wind rampaged like a caged beast, whipping the sheets. Wen Jiang reached out, feeling an invisible airflow coil around his fingers. He asked knowingly, “Your ability unstable?”

Xie Qi’s ability was prone to outbursts—an old problem—but he rarely showed that uncontrolled side to Wen Jiang. He went quiet for two seconds before grumbling glumly, “…Feels too bad.”

Advising others to vent through sex, and now he’s even more pent up. Quack.

Unstable high-rank Supernatural Abilities often fed back into one’s mental state—that’s why society linked outbursts to “mental instability” or “violent tempers.” Wen Jiang wasn’t surprised. Xie Qi seemed a bit wilted now, so he simply ruffled his hair again.

This couldn’t go on. Wen Jiang checked with Xie Qi: “How close?”

Xie Qi’s mood was complicated. His current state was a thousand times better than “instant,” but maybe extremes backfired—this talk carried an odd faint awkwardness. He paused a beat, then answered awkwardly but honestly, “Just the last bit.”

He was fine before. Definitely missing that stimulus, Wen Jiang thought.

Why am I even kneeling here? It’s just a more humiliating way to do it myself. Xie Qi wondered too. He glanced at the pensive Wen Jiang. His body burned uncomfortably, yet he felt oddly unmotivated. He was half a step from the finish line, but with Wen Jiang doing and saying nothing, something felt missing.

But Wen Jiang wasn’t helping anymore. Xie Qi couldn’t just force himself on him. Frowning, he straightened up, deciding to stop wasting time. “I’ll go take a shower…”

“What if I said,” Wen Jiang interjected flatly, “you have to finish in one minute—would that help?”

Xie Qi froze mid-rise. In the heavy silence, it was like he waged a fierce internal battle. Wen Jiang counted slowly in his mind, watching Xie Qi’s mouth tighten, eyes drop, words squeezed out: “…Probably.”

Wen Jiang upped the ante: “I’ll step on you.”

Xie Qi stared hard at a spot on the carpet, nearly burning a hole through it, and said in a tone of supreme indifference, “…Fine.”

Even acting all defiant doesn’t change that you’re agreeing to let someone step on you. Wen Jiang deadpanned internally, nudging Xie Qi’s knee lightly with his shoe tip. “Switch positions.”

Wen Jiang rose from the sofa and sat on the nearby bed instead, the soft white mattress dipping slightly.

Bed, night, alone, “boyfriends,” unresolved needs.

Hard not to let a boyfriend’s mind wander. Xie Qi’s gaze drifted over him.

Wen Jiang’s expression stayed neutral, no hint of intimacy. He just beckoned Xie Qi over, then pointed down at the floor: “Kneel here.”

No dice. Xie Qi’s eyes dimmed a touch, though his earlobes flushed red again. He silently turned his body.

“Good.” The hotel bed was higher than the sofa—perfect for stepping on higher spots. Wen Jiang stretched his legs out a bit, pulled out his phone, and started the stopwatch. “Beginning. Sixty, fifty-nine…”

Still nothing?!

“Fuck.” The suddenness stunned Xie Qi for a second; he bent forward in flustered haste. Wen Jiang didn’t look, just continued counting steadily at the screen: “Fifty-five, fifty-four…”

In performance, there was a technique: plant vague hints to build false expectations in the audience, then subvert them just as hope fades, delivering the payoff as “surprise” to spike emotions. Wen Jiang let the numbers tick. He felt Xie Qi’s gaze fixed on his legs during his efforts—like a silent complaint that this wasn’t what was promised—but no further presumptions.

More obedient than at the start. “Thirty,” Wen Jiang thought, finally lifting his left foot to press down on Xie Qi. “Hurry.”

He stepped on Xie Qi’s shoulder.

A light but deliberate touch, an unexpected spot. Xie Qi’s body shivered inexplicably, then the pressure on his shoulder grew more pronounced.

“Twenty seconds left.” The calm, ruthless voice, unchanging pace, the downward force on his shoulder intensifying—not raw violence, but an irresistible “command.”

“Fifteen seconds. Fourteen, thirteen…” That final “half-step” loomed. Xie Qi’s breaths grew harsher, heavier. Each number made his shoulder sink a fraction lower.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

Don’t…

Waist and back curving, vision plunging, the floor swelling to fill his sight—Xie Qi could almost make out the carpet’s coarse fibers. He couldn’t suppress the premonition that Wen Jiang would make his forehead hit the ground. A faint resistance flickered deep inside.

A delicate, hard-to-gauge line between pleasure and fear hovered right there. Mouth stuff? Fine. Kneeling? Fine. Being stepped on? Fine. But prostrating to kowtow? That subtly crossed the boundary—bringing bewilderment to their intimacy, a sting to dignity and pride. Xie Qi’s mind muddled as he honestly followed the hint, bending lower bit by bit, heart yanked taut—

Xie Qi’s head gently butted against Wen Jiang’s right calf with a strangely intimate touch.

“Two.” The pressure naturally eased away, reduced to nothing more than a simple press of the foot. Wen Jiang no longer urged him lower. Xie Qi’s mind blanked out, his heart jolting sharply as a muffled grunt escaped his throat. After a fleeting daze, he relaxed.

“One,” Wen Jiang said, gazing down at Xie Qi, who had successfully obeyed the command within the time limit. He lifted his leg and once again reached out to gently stroke the other’s hair. “That’s enough.”

Xie Qi stayed frozen in place like a stone, then abruptly gripped Wen Jiang’s calf with his clean hand. His palm burned hot against the skin, clutching tight—like a pirate who had spent half his life finally cradling the secret treasure he’d chased across endless seas. His heart thundered in his chest. After holding his breath for a moment, Xie Qi exhaled a long, shuddering sigh, as if venting some inexpressible emotion that had surged wildly through his body time and again.

The doctor was right, Xie Qi thought. The room’s previously chaotic airflow had smoothed out once more, growing compliant and docile. He truly felt a sense of unprecedented ease and exhilaration.