Xie Qi had never invited outsiders to visit his new home before. It was said to be one of the birthday gifts his parents had given him, and its biggest feature was the three secret rooms hidden within the structure.
It sounded just like the kind of treasure hunt adventure kids would love—press a switch, open a hidden door, and uncover one—no, three—earth-shattering family secrets that had been concealed for years.
The purposes of these three secret rooms had been decided from the moment they were built. They weren’t for private office work or entertaining guests, nor for collecting antiques, paintings, or rare treasures. Their construction served a very simple goal: to let Xie Qi and his friends play to their hearts’ content.
But a single room wasn’t enough to contain his parents’ “affections,” so they had been meticulously categorized into three, each with a different style.
How thoughtful and attentive. Wen Jiang was quite curious about the layouts inside.
Though Xie Qi had been evasive about it, repeatedly stressing since yesterday that he hadn’t “used” the secret rooms—and mentioning that the tools for binding people were all inside—Wen Jiang had anticipated that these rooms weren’t your typical entertainment spaces.
But it wasn’t hard to understand, either. Doing this sort of thing did seem like it called for a dedicated room… to make it feel more official?
And safer, too. It effectively minimized the risk of accidentally being walked in on and suffering social death.
Xie Qi led Wen Jiang to the study on the first floor. He pressed the fingerprint button hidden behind an ornament on the desk, and the bookshelves on either side parted in the middle, revealing the door to the secret room.
It was all so formal, as if priceless treasures were hidden inside that needed protection from thieves. With a flicker of excitement, Wen Jiang entered his fingerprint information and opened the door.
Wen Jiang was hit with a dazzling array of tools.
Wen Jiang closed the door.
Wen Jiang turned to look at Xie Qi.
Xie Qi immediately protested his innocence: “I haven’t used any of it.”
No need to worry about that. If Xie Qi had used them, given the sheer variety of these… tools, he’d definitely be a seasoned pro by now, Wen Jiang thought with a blank expression.
Unable to hold back his curiosity, Wen Jiang asked, “The other two rooms too?”
Xie Qi looked away: “…Yeah.”
The stuff from those videos was too basic after all—just the tip of the iceberg…! Wen Jiang kept his poker face, stayed silent for a few seconds, then opened the door again.
His gaze swept from the wall hung with all sorts of items to the table similarly laden with things, then to the larger equipment in the corner, and finally settled on the room’s largest, most conspicuous bed.
So straightforward.
Even though he’d never been to a love hotel or a sex shop, he inexplicably felt confident that those places might not stock as complete a selection as this.
Xie Qi coughed beside him. His gaze circled the room with nowhere to land, then dropped to the floor as he asked, “Wanna go in?” He’d been “holding back” the whole time, after all.
Something felt off, yet everything seemed to flow so naturally… Why is that? His thoughts drew a blank for now, but Wen Jiang nodded anyway. “Let’s go in.”
Wen Jiang rummaged through the two rows of cabinets in the room’s corner for anything usable.
The props here were incredibly diverse and plentiful, but many wouldn’t see any use—at least not for them right now. They were still too extreme. Some items felt like torture instruments for brutal interrogations when he picked them up.
These are definitely only for people with strong self-healing abilities, Wen Jiang thought silently as he stared at the item in his hand. His contemplation led to a misunderstanding from Xie Qi.
Xie Qi glanced at the prop, then at Wen Jiang, frowned, and rubbed his hair. He paced aimlessly around the room twice before saying in a heavy, all-in tone, “…It won’t kill anyone.”
You’re trying way too hard, buddy… But if I don’t want to hit you and you don’t want to be hit, what are we supposed to get out of this? Wen Jiang said flatly, “I can’t bring myself to do it either.”
Xie Qi froze, flustered, and rubbed his now-burning earlobe.
Wen Jiang put the item back in the bottom drawer, deciding to seal off that layer at least while he was around. He opened the next drawer up. The items there didn’t look scary on their own; their common trait was that pressing a switch produced currents of varying strength.
Wen Jiang picked up a long rod whose purpose wasn’t obvious. When he pressed the button, a metal stick extended from the black cylindrical body, wrapped in faint, flickering blue light. By common sense, Wen Jiang figured this wasn’t a sex toy—it was an electric shock baton.
And it was heavy, like doing weighted training just holding it.
He kept going upward. Whips and paddles of various styles each occupied their own drawer. After the initial shock, Wen Jiang actually thought these looked fairly normal.
The key items for today—simple binding ropes, satin ribbons, and the like—were on the second layer from the top. In the end, Wen Jiang opened every drawer, rigorously drawing two conclusions.
First, regarding the organization: from top to bottom, the drawers grew progressively more explicit and intense, with the corresponding play styles becoming more uninhibited.
Some were hard to even call “play” anymore—more like one-sided abuse for amusement. Did that count as a play style?
Up to the fourth layer, the items could still pass as fetish gear, like riding crops and flogs—things he’d seen in videos. But below that, they looked more like tools for venting emotions through outright sadism.
It was hard to imagine Xie Qi’s doting parents meticulously preparing all sorts of items that could injure and make their child bleed. Not only that, but their aggression scaled with their difficulty to use—they hurt more, weighed more, and were harder to control.
That led to the second conclusion: about the common thread of these items—they were all prepared assuming Xie Qi as the dominant.
Simple logic, like weapons: a seasoned martial artist and a weak scholar couldn’t both wield them equally; only the former could unleash their true potential.
Some tools were too heavy; without sufficient strength, the wielder’s strikes would land soft and feeble. They’d tire themselves out gasping and aching before long. No lightweight versions existed not because of poor design, but because there was no need.
After all, Xie Qi wouldn’t find them heavy.
As long as Xie Qi was the one wielding them and inflicting pain, there was no need to worry about weight or handling difficulty—just whether they felt handy and delivered a satisfying impact.
Viewed this way, the deliberately hidden space, the biometric-locked door, the excellent soundproofing that wouldn’t let noise escape… they all took on new meaning.
Even if things went too far and an “accident” happened inside, it’d be easy to “handle.”
No doubt about it—this really was a “playroom” his parents had lovingly prepared for Xie Qi. It could host normal fun, or… serve as his outlet.
…Isn’t this just the same logic as “stabilizing supernatural abilities through cathartic release via lust or violence”?
Wen Jiang had a sudden epiphany. No wonder the supernatural ability stabilization report Xie Qi had shown him earlier was so detailed and comprehensive, without a single flaw—it couldn’t have been thrown together overnight. The Xie Family had clearly researched this long ago.
The only miscalculation was that Xie Qi still had no interest in abusing others. His way of venting restlessness was… somewhat reversed.
Wen Jiang turned to look at Xie Qi. The other man was still waiting for him to pick what he wanted, idly standing at the far end of the room, observing the restraint devices in the corner.
When Xie Qi had first seen the room, he’d been speechless for a moment, but nothing here could actually scare him. His gaze on the devices held no shock or curiosity now.
It was like his parents and their inner circle knew all this but never touched the bottom drawers—not out of cruelty or inability, but because it lacked “class.”
Wen Jiang could tell at a glance why Xie Qi was staring for so long: his thought process only revolved around “being told to use them on myself,” not “using them on the other guy.” Hence the intense internal struggle.
Given Xie Qi’s extreme aversion to outsiders—how he’d shatter at the slightest push—it was more precisely “being told by Wen Jiang to use them” and “using them on Wen Jiang.” As the sole participant here, Wen Jiang found it oddly amusing.
The feeling was like… yeah, the satisfaction of a house dog growing more obedient?
Or like dangling the dog’s favorite toy, its yummiest treat, its go-to pillow in front of someone else to lure it over, then standing empty-handed and watching it bolt straight to you and nuzzle your calf without a second thought.
…I’m really getting into comparing my friend to a dog. Whatever. Xie Qi seemed to like it, and as long as there was no real contempt, it was fine.
The point was, dogs didn’t start out this compliant—they became that way through a series of behaviors. So that’s how it is… In that moment, novice Wen Jiang grasped it: this was a subtle, ideological shift.
Supernatural ability instability mostly stemmed from the esper’s personal emotions. This secret room’s original approach was for Xie Qi, as the dominant, to vent wildly and stabilize his volatile powers.
Reality had flipped it. No way would the sub beat the master for release, but if Xie Qi had those tastes, being hit and berated would be the proper outlet.
What if they went deeper?
If the “master” hooked into Xie Qi’s thoughts and emotions—not just behavioral commands, but mental influence, like Pavlov’s dog forming a conditioned reflex—then that “master” could become a long-term mental stabilizer for him. Effectively, a supernatural ability stabilizer.
This would be more controllable than pure catharsis, with lower risks and no collateral damage. But the downsides were obvious: a bad “master” would ruin everything, and wouldn’t this inevitably bind the “master” to the Xie Family for life?
Sounded like a sugar baby gig. Who knew if the Xie Family had safeguards for that.
Not bad for the Xie Family’s doctors—he’d finally cracked the principle. Wen Jiang suddenly felt the same rush of clarity as solving the final boss question on an exam after twenty minutes of grinding.
So, how far along was Xie Qi now? Wen Jiang wondered.
“Xie Qi.” Wen Jiang beckoned to Xie Qi, who was still mired in indecision. Xie Qi looked at him puzzled and walked over. “Picked something?”
Wen Jiang silently placed the electric shock baton in Xie Qi’s hand.
Xie Qi looked at the baton, then at Wen Jiang. His expression gradually stiffened. His previous internal battle hadn’t even ended, and here came a new challenge.
“…Don’t know how to use it?” Xie Qi took the baton as he asked. The custom heavy electric shock baton* felt featherlight in his grip. He swung it casually to the side, the metal shaft whipping out with a whoosh of displaced air. Wen Jiang had zero doubt Xie Qi could snap bones with it.
“Here.” Xie Qi handed the baton back to Wen Jiang. Seeing his hand dip from the weight, Xie Qi frowned. “Too heavy?”
He hesitated, then stepped back. “If you like it, I can get you a lighter one.”
“No need, just checking it out.” Wen Jiang put the baton back and extended his hand to Xie Qi. “Hand.”
“…?” Xie Qi puzzledly placed his hand in Wen Jiang’s, then couldn’t resist giving it a squeeze.
The touch was as smooth and cool as ever, the knuckles prominent. Feels like forever since I held his hand, he thought.
Wen Jiang glanced and said, “Let go.”
Xie Qi’s face fell, full of reluctance as he released it.
Wen Jiang flipped his palm over, facing downward. “Head.”
“…You toying with a dog or what?” Xie Qi grumbled under his breath, bending down to rest his head under Wen Jiang’s hand.
Wen Jiang ruffled Xie Qi’s hair, watching as a faint flush crept up the back of his neck while his shoulders dipped ever so slightly—he was relaxing from the gesture. Intentionally or not, Xie Qi shook his head in response, his soft strands brushing against Wen Jiang’s palm.
Wen Jiang sank into thought. Xie Qi already seemed so obedient, drawing inner peace so effortlessly from him, this temporary stand-in.
…But what have I even done?
Shouldn’t forging a real change like this take ages—a long, grueling process?
Is my whole approach backward? Learning really has no end.
![Farming for Three Meals a Day [Farming Life]](https://i1.wp.com/dobynovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/farmm.jpeg?resize=151,215 "Farming for Three Meals a Day [Farming Life]")
