Chapter 56: Two-Faced Phoenix Man 15

Late at night, snow fell in gentle flurries. The black car passing by shattered the endless white veil, sending the flakes drifting onto the bare branches by the roadside, where they slowly melted into silent, lifeless puddles.

The vehicle came to a gradual stop in front of an unassuming residential building, its pale lights flickering faintly.

The tall man in the trench coat gently ruffled the fluffy short hair of the young man leaning against him. His features exuded superiority, the mole beneath his eye appearing and disappearing in the dim light. In a soft voice, he said, “Jiang Jiang, we’re home.”

Jiang Rang blinked his eyes open groggily. A red mark had formed on one of his handsome cheeks from sleeping against the seat. Perhaps annoyed at being woken, his refined brows furrowed slightly, bunching into a sulky pout.

He let out a soft hum, but it took him a long moment to stir.

Lu Xiang couldn’t help thinking how adorable his boyfriend was—like a little prince in a beautiful music box. Even after the key in his head had been turned, his body swayed unsteadily, lagging behind in action.

This gave the sharp-browed, starry-eyed man the perfect excuse to scoop up his little prince and escort him home.

Jiang Rang was half-carried out of the car, but the moment he stepped into the open air, a shiver ran through him. A soft flush bloomed instantly on the tip of his pale nose.

The cold snapped him fully awake from his shallow slumber.

Lu Xiang was watching him closely. Seeing the young man chilled, he immediately unwound the scarf from around his own neck and stepped closer, intending to shield Jiang Rang’s cheeks from the snowflakes drifting down like goose feathers.

But his gesture fell completely short.

Jiang Rang took a small, awkward step back.

The young man lowered his gaze slightly. His porcelain-pale cheeks were hard to make out clearly in the darkness as he said softly, “You don’t need to walk me up. You’ve had a long day at the birthday banquet too, and the snow’s coming down hard. Head back first.”

Lu Xiang pressed his lips together slowly. The two of them were in the heat of a passionate romance; every time he brought Jiang Rang home, they always went up together.

A strange feeling stirred in the man’s heart. He couldn’t quite grasp the subtle shift in his boyfriend’s demeanor.

But in the end, Lu Xiang didn’t dwell on it. The night and the alcohol dulled his senses, causing him to overlook many odd details.

The man smiled and withdrew his scarf. But in the next instant, he firmly gripped Jiang Rang’s wrist.

Jiang Rang tugged lightly but didn’t resist further.

Together, they climbed the stairs, the dim yellow lights flickering on one by one until they reached the young man’s door.

After unlocking it, Jiang Rang paused. He looked weary, his profile softly outlined by the warm light spilling from inside, radiating a gentle warmth laced with distance.

As if hiding something, he kept his beautiful dark eyes lowered, avoiding the man’s gaze. His voice drifted like the quiet snow outside, carrying a quiet chill of solitude.

“Lu Xiang,” he said, “you’ve brought me up. You should go now.”

This was the first time. They were so close, yet there was no embrace, no goodnight kiss.

“Jiang Jiang,” the man’s voice broke free from the haze of drunkenness, hoarse as he asked, “What’s wrong with you, exactly?”

Jiang Rang rubbed his forehead wearily, his pale lips parting slightly. In the end, he just averted his eyes. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

Lu Xiang had never seen the young man like this.

Pale, aloof, calm—even indifferent. It made his heart inexplicably uneasy.

Lu Xiang opened his mouth, his usually sharp, aggressive brows softening. Even the Eldest Young Master’s iron will seemed to yield as he gently turned Jiang Rang’s shoulders toward him. “Tell me what’s going on, okay? I can feel that you’re upset.”

But Jiang Rang suddenly wrenched his arm free, stepping back with a faint trace of impatience at being pressed.

His voice carried a cold edge as it erupted. “Lu Xiang, I said I’m just tired. There’s nothing wrong, and I’m not upset. I just want to rest properly. Is that okay?”

Lu Xiang’s eyes flickered, his lips parting as he stood there, at a loss in the face of Jiang Rang’s sudden outburst.

Jiang Rang let out a sudden sigh. After a long pause, he said softly, “You should go first.”

With that, he shut the door firmly.

The tightly closed door loomed dark and silent, like a massive beast that had swallowed the delicate young man whole.

The stairwell light overhead suddenly went out.

Lu Xiang stood rooted at the door, his usually tall and carefree figure now tinged with loneliness.

To the man, Jiang Rang’s attitude was undeniably strange. His gut told him he’d done something to upset his boyfriend.

But this was the first time he’d encountered the young man like this. In their relationship, Jiang Rang had always been the one taking the initiative.

The habitual hugs and goodnight kisses, the instinctive hand-holding, the caresses on cheeks and hair… every intimate gesture had been led by Jiang Rang.

So, when his sweet lover suddenly turned cold in attitude, Lu Xiang completely lost his bearings and had no idea how to resolve the issue.

Even though he had countless methods at his disposal, he could no longer use even a fraction of them on Jiang Rang.

The man was like a hedgehog whose spines had been plucked out with tweezers; facing his fragile and beautiful lover, all he could do was yield.

Jiang Rang’s expression darkened almost the instant he closed the door.

Perhaps because he had returned to his familiar and safe nest, as the retrograde alcohol’s effects dissipated, his rationality became increasingly precarious.

Even though the young man had already thought up ways to retaliate and deceive, and had even cursed the other in his heart hundreds of times, that feeling of being mocked and ridiculed, of having cold water dumped on him head-on, still filled him with resentment.

His heart felt as if it had been pierced by countless red-hot daggers; those strange gazes, contemptuous expressions, aloof condescension—everything made him resentful to the point of nausea.

Jiang Rang was deeply insecure.

Perhaps it wasn’t obvious in daily life; even because he navigated social relationships with ease like a fish in water, he appeared bright and kind.

But only he himself knew that this insecurity had long taken root in his heart like a poisonous plant.

Due to his insecurity about his poor family background and unremarkable origins, the young man had even resented his parents for being such useless and stupid ordinary people.

Useless, honest, typical East Asian parents who could only turn their blades against their own family—even in death, they were utterly insignificant and worthless.

They died and were freed, leaving only Jiang Rang, their headache-inducing bastard son, struggling bitterly in this quagmire of the mortal world.

Jiang Rang dug deeply into his palms, his eyes red and ferocious against his frosty cheeks, looking as cold as a malevolent ghost.

He had long known the true nature of those meat pigs, hadn’t he?

They prided themselves on their wealth and power, considering themselves superior to others.

Back then, that one billion must have been a sure bet that he wouldn’t refuse, setting the stage for the game’s opening act.

And he had smugly thought he had Lu Xiang firmly in his grasp.

What happened today was equivalent to a resounding slap to the young man’s face, making him see stars and finally recognize reality.

Jiang Rang tried to steady his breathing; his superbly curved chest rose and fell slightly, like undulating beautiful hills.

After a long while, he dispelled the stark white light from above his head, pressing one bloodshot eye close to the peephole in the door and observing carefully.

As expected, Lu Xiang hadn’t left.

In the peephole, the man standing in the dilapidated, dim corridor looked like a dejected, courtship-failed male peacock, his expression utterly defeated; where was the once high-spirited, flamboyantly arrogant Eldest Young Master?

Love had blinded his eyes, causing him to blindly fall into a crumbling trap; the man was shackled all over with rusty irons, and every moment he stood waiting for his lover to change his mind was a moment of torment.

The young man let out a low sneer, his shifting gaze revealing sarcasm and disgust.

He had no interest in looking any longer and turned straight back to the room.

However, the instant he pushed open the door, Jiang Rang froze in place as if petrified.

The small bedroom wasn’t lit; the only light came from the serpentine glow of the incandescent lamp from the living room and the fluttering snow outside the window.

It fell ghost white, sticky, and misty on the undulating pale skin of the gaunt man in the dim room.

In the dim, ambiguous light, white lace was intricately interwoven over the creamy chest faintly tinged with pink, trembling and rising with subtle breaths.

Zhou Yichun’s figure was fair and slender, with unexaggerated muscle groups that were well-proportioned, especially the subtle curves of his skin visible beneath the lace, which looked particularly tender and appetizing under the gentle caress of the faint light.

The man’s face was flushed and hazy; his one remaining intact black eye glistened with fine moisture, unfocused, while the other was carefully wrapped in white gauze.

His entire body was white to the point of near sanctity, seeming to emit a lustrous glow in the darkness; only his remaining black hair and the glaringly red collar around his neck appeared demonic.

Jiang Rang’s throat moved slightly; the oncoming wave of sultry temptation made his already dissipating drunkenness rage even more fiercely.

The back of his hand gripping the doorknob bulged with pulsing veins; he endured for a moment, but after a long while, he couldn’t hold back and hoarsely cursed in a low voice: “Slut.”

Zhou Yichun’s face was very red; he maintained his kneeling posture by the bed, his upper body trembling as he leaned forward a bit, actually crawling toward Jiang Rang on all fours like a dog.

That flushed face was full of glistening, brimming desire.

The man knelt at the young man’s feet, his slender fingers climbing up along the pant leg, but his trembling made him stop only at the knee.

Zhou Yichun’s posture wasn’t skillfully controlled; his seduction was too amateurish, even excessively shy.

Jiang Rang did indeed take a fancy to Zhou Yichun’s current state, but he felt no pity whatsoever for a man. Seeing the other pause his movements, teasing him with that half-hidden pipa act—now close, now distant—he quickly lost all interest.

Just as the young man planned to shove the man away, a suppressed voice, laced with barely concealed excitement, suddenly rang out.

Zhou Yichun tilted his head back, his dazed features flushed with blazing fervor. “Jiang Jiang, did you hear what they said today? They said… Lu Xiang is just toying with you, Jiang Jiang—he doesn’t truly care for you—”

Before the man could finish, a massive kick surged with erupting fury slammed straight into his chest.

Zhou Yichun didn’t even have time to cry out. His entire body flew backward.

The excruciating pain twisted his face into a grotesque mask. He curled up on the floor, shuddering violently as beads of sweat rapidly formed on his forehead. His agonized gasps came in fits and starts, like the ragged breaths of someone recovering from a brutal assault.

Jiang Rang’s luminous, beautiful face contorted with a venomous fury bordering on madness. He resembled a beast pushed beyond its limits. He advanced slowly toward the cowering man on the floor, his heavy, oppressive shadow falling over him like a shroud.

Zhou Yichun tried to lift his head, but Jiang Rang pinned the side of his face underfoot. The man’s chest heaved wildly, as if the next moment might bring his end under this unrelenting brutality.

Jiang Rang crouched down halfway and patted the man’s pallid cheek. His eyes, shrouded in shadow, betrayed no hint of his turbulent emotions.

The young man’s voice drifted out light and gentle, yet it cut like the verdict of a merciless inquisitor.

“Zhou Yichun,” he murmured softly, grinding his heel down insultingly on the man’s face. “What? You’re thrilled that someone toyed with me?”

Zhou Yichun’s expression was utterly bizarre. He should have been wracked with pain and torment, yet amid his shadowed brows gleamed a masochistic hunger and twisted affection. His spine arched as if electrified by the abuse.

He was filthy, shameless, caked in grime—yet in that moment, he was blissfully content, floating on clouds of ecstasy.

Goosebumps prickled across Jiang Rang’s skin. The urge to lash out and vent his rage evaporated in an instant.

The young man took a step back, clearly intending to leave.

But something clamped tightly around his pant leg.

Jiang Rang glared down coldly, a curse on the tip of his tongue—until Zhou Yichun coughed hoarsely for a moment, then let out a strange, eerie laugh. “Jiang Jiang, he’s right outside the door, isn’t he?”

The man tugged gently at the white lace that had slipped from his shoulder. He fought back the agony of the violence inflicted on him, a faint, rosy flush blooming across his skin like sea foam.

Zhou Yichun gazed up at Jiang Rang. In that instant, his habitual look of abject humility shifted into something unpredictable. His exquisite body trembled as he spoke in the seductive whisper of the venomous snake tempting Adam and Eve with forbidden fruit. “Jiang Jiang, don’t you want to get revenge on him?”

“For his contempt, his mockery, his slander.”

His slender, feverish fingers trailed along the young man’s waist. His tousled head nestled against Jiang Rang’s soft abdomen, craving a caress.

“Why should he command everyone’s submission?” he cooed. “Just because of his power and wealth? No… Jiang Jiang, you’ll be his special exception, won’t you?”

The white lace slipped from his shoulder once more, revealing long, blindingly pale legs.

He reached up lightly to clasp the young man’s shoulder, murmuring, “Jiang Jiang, your boyfriend is right outside. But he’ll never know… right under his nose…”

“Cheating.”

Jiang Rang’s throat bobbed. After a long pause, he suddenly clapped a hand over the man’s flushed lips and slammed him against the gray-white wall with a dull thud.

Low, fragmented chuckles and feverish heat seeped through his fingers.

Jiang Rang jerked back as if scorched, loosening his grip slightly.

But Zhou Yichun’s voice slipped out in a soft hiss, his fractured features taking on an uncanny, bewitching allure.

“Jiang Jiang,” he said. “Tonight, I’m your toy.”