The scarf loosened, and Xiao Fen’s hand hung limply at his side. His eyelids were red and moist, his entire face streaked with tears.
The afterglow seemed to linger in his body, making him too lazy to even move a finger.
Fang Si Ting reached for a wet wipe. He had held back and pulled out at the last moment, so there was no mess inside. He cleaned up quickly.
The car heater was on full blast, but he still pulled out a new red blanket. He scooped up the man, sat down himself, reclined the seat halfway, and let Xiao Fen sprawl against his chest. He wrapped the blanket around them both, bundling them tightly together.
Xiao Fen yawned lazily. His skin, pale enough to dazzle the eyes, still held a flush of pink. His cheeks were rosy, and his fox-like eyes glimmered with drowsiness.
He leaned down, brushing his lips feather-light across Xiao Fen’s face.
Xiao Fen smiled and shrank back a little, opening his eyes wide. His brandy-colored pupils shone clear and bright as he gazed at Fang Si Ting, a shy, sweet smile tugging at his lips.
Outside, the snow grew heavier, whipping wildly through the night wind with a howling wail like the roar of some furious spirit.
A thin layer of fresh snow began to accumulate on the pink window frame. Now and then, ice particles pelted the car, making faint popping sounds.
Not far from the mountaintop stood a small lighthouse that patrolled every two hours. Fortunately, the windows were made of special glass—no one outside could see in.
Time had flown by unnoticed. The bright beam swept across the car roof again, illuminating Xiao Fen’s face before plunging it back into shadow.
The car was peaceful and serene. The body nestled against him was dry and warm, comfortable and reassuring.
In the midnight shadows, Fang Si Ting’s face took on deeper, more profound contours, like a black panther lurking in the dark, watching its prey.
Under the blanket, a cool little foot poked at the other’s instep.
“Why are you looking at me like that again?”
His gaze was always so gentle, so quiet, staying within proper bounds, yet he loved to stare, a hint of deep, overwhelming emotion simmering beneath the surface.
Tear through that skin, cross that line—Xiao Fen realized too late that he had been tricked by that sliver of affection.
The foot that had teased him hesitated, then tried to pull away.
The other foot caught it in time, trapping it between his own.
The toes that had just scraped his sole, danced along his instep and calf— that playful energy vanished in an instant.
“I…” A flicker of panic rose in Xiao Fen’s heart, though he hoped it wasn’t true. After all, they had only known each other a short time.
A man in his thirties, no matter how busy with work, no matter if he had never dated, should have had some casual flings.
Before he could dwell on it, Fang Si Ting tugged down the edge of the covering blanket, lifted his pointed chin, and leaned in. He sucked slowly on Xiao Fen’s tongue tip, nipping lightly with his teeth now and then.
Xiao Fen let out a soft sigh. The thought vanished like smoke, leaving his mind blank. He pulled apart, knelt on either side of Fang Si Ting’s body, pressed him back against the seat, straightened up, and looked down at him arrogantly.
“Want more?” Fang Si Ting’s thick brows arched as he tucked a damp strand of hair behind Xiao Fen’s ear.
“Not done playing yet.” An evil smirk tugged at Xiao Fen’s lips. He yanked his tie loose, pulled at both sides, and the top two buttons of his shirt popped off.
.
“Mr. Black Cat, you’re not done already, are you?” Hot breath slithered up his neck like a snake, brushing his ear. The mocking lilt was chaotic yet enticing.
Fang Si Ting’s eyes darkened. He sat back leisurely in the seat. “What do you think?”
“I need to check again.” Xiao Fen grinned.
“As you wish.” The hand callused from gun handling steadied his knee bend to keep him from slipping.
Xiao Fen’s brows furrowed deeper, his breathing growing erratic in the silent night.
Finally, his kneeling knees buckled. He instinctively grabbed for the armrest nearby, but a hand intercepted it midway and brought it to his lips.
A reverent kiss fell on his trembling fingertips.
Seeing him bow his head like that, Xiao Fen’s heart heated up.
Such an upright man submitting to him—it was sexy as hell.
Things spiraled out of control once more.
…
A sharp, cheerful phone ring cut through the air.
Xiao Fen groped for his phone on the table beside him and silenced it.
Five seconds later, it rang again.
“Hello~” His voice was hoarse.
“How’s the official collab going?” Song Hui’s voice came from the other end. “Caught a cold?”
“It’s fine.” Xiao Fen cleared his throat. “Just… a little…”
A cold was still the best excuse.
An arm reached around from behind, encircling his waist and pulling him tight, pressing their midsections flush.
The body hair tickled his lower back. Xiao Fen squirmed forward uncomfortably, only to be tugged back by the hand at his waist.
“If Inspector Fang doesn’t give you back soon, the Lu Family execs are gonna kill me,” Song Hui said. “Hurry back once it’s done—I’ll brew you some ginger tea. The International Extreme Sports Club wants you for an endorsement; they’re waiting at the company.”
Xiao Fen agreed, then suddenly remembered—he hadn’t told Song Hui last night that he was riding with Fang Si Ting.
“How did you know I’m with Fang Si Ting?”
“I called you the morning before last. Inspector Fang picked up and said you were discussing the official collab, not to disturb you for a few days.”
“The morning before last? Wasn’t Fang Si Ting still in Tengcha then?”
“What Tengcha? He came back, didn’t he? What are you talking about?”
Xiao Fen checked the date. Damn—three days had passed!
“Nah, nothing. Slept funny.”
He remembered watching the snow at Jade Qiong Mountain Summit that day. After two rounds in the car, Fang Si Ting had carried his hazy self home.
Then, all he recalled was sitting on Fang Si Ting’s lap for meals, being carried to the bath, then back to bed for more… It looped like that. Every time he woke, the man would pounce, kissing him dizzy and senseless.
Right now, that hand was inching lower, trying to rouse little Fen from slumber.
Xiao Fen grabbed it hastily and shot a fierce glare over his shoulder.
Beauty had truly blinded him, turning him into a lust-addled fool.
“Come pick me up in an hour. I’ll send the address later.”
“Wear more layers—it’s snowing.”
Fang Si Ting saw him about to leave and slipped out from under the covers. He kissed the mole on Xiao Fen’s exposed shoulder first, then rolled out of bed ahead of him.
Xiao Fen hummed responses into Song Hui’s phone. As he tried to sit up, his brows knotted tight.
How many rounds had Fang Si Ting dragged him through!
He snatched the electronic calendar from the bedside and hurled it without a word.
Fang Si Ting reached back, caught the calendar hurtling at the back of his head, and left the room without looking.
The man on the bed pouted in dissatisfaction.
Finally hanging up—three days since his feet had touched the floor—Xiao Fen’s excellent physique still left him unsteady on his legs.
He stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Glancing in the mirror, he saw the marks weren’t too bad: inner thighs, ankles, rear cheeks, lower back, shoulders…
When he got to the overlapping hickeys layered over the mole at his collarbone, he wanted to commit murder.
Ten minutes later, he stormed out of the room with a sour face.
The apartment had underfloor heating, so bare feet didn’t feel cold.
Fang Si Ting’s place was over a hundred square meters with just two rooms—one a study. The decor was creamy wood tones, minimal items on display, surfaces spotless. It looked like a photo from a design magazine.
In other words, no signs of life, no personal touches—like a model home.
Not to mention figuring out his likes or dislikes from the setup.
From the living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows, City A’s bustling downtown landmarks sprawled below.
The man wore black boxers, his long, straight legs out in the open. His tall, burly frame was wrapped in a black leather apron. The pale wheat tones of his back muscles flexed subtly with his movements, marked by several red scratches from someone’s claws, adding a wild, dangerous edge.
He held a frying pan in one hand, cracked an egg against the edge with the other, and slid it in.
Sizzling oil sounds erupted immediately.
“Eat the pastries on the table first.”
Before he spoke, Xiao Fen had already grabbed one and taken a bite. Not the same kind, but the taste was familiar.
He had eaten some at Doctor Kuang’s place last time—probably from the same shop. Pretty good.
“You live like such a phony.”
Amid the white steam, Fang Si Ting’s stern face turned, faint puzzlement in his eyes.
“Don’t you stay here often?” Xiao Fen asked around a mouthful of pastry, faint red at his eye corners making him look innocent yet seductive.
“Every day.” Fang Si Ting quickly turned back.
“Even phonier.” Xiao Fen griped. “No personal stuff anywhere?”
“All put away.”
“Such a neat freak.” Xiao Fen eyed the food—not ready yet—and wandered around.
He pulled open a drawer: essentials neatly arranged, nothing extra.
Another drawer: empty.
Wardrobe: all black business suits, varying only in cut and fabric.
Beside it: solid black shirts, black ties.
Shoe cabinet: all black leather shoes.
Xiao Fen shook his head and returned to the table, face full of disdain.
“This place isn’t rented, is it?” A wild thought struck him.
“No, company housing.” Fang Si Ting paused, then added—now that they were at this stage—”I can afford a luxury car for you but not a house?”
“Not the same. A luxury car? With your salary, grit your teeth, eat instant noodles every meal, you could scrape it together. But this place? At least thirty million.” Xiao Fen said.
“You never thought I might be some ‘second-gen’?”
“Nope.” Xiao Fen’s answer was crisp.
Crisp enough to sting Fang Si Ting a bit.
“Never seen a second-gen—whether the grindstone type or the spoiled brat—live like a monk.”
“You think I live poorly?” Fang Si Ting laughed wryly.
“Though, last time I went to sign that anti-gambling promo endorsement, I saw you.”
He eyed the man’s back suspiciously. “The uncle next to you looked just like you.”
“So it was you.” Fang Si Ting chuckled. “That’s my dad, about to retire.”
“Second-gen for real.” Xiao Fen feigned shock, then hit on a question. “You won’t get busted for the luxury car?”
That aura, holding steady center-stage amid the crowd—felt dangerous.
“How much bounty if I report you?” His restless heart stirred.
“Go ahead and report. My family’s squeaky clean, red-blooded roots—check all you want.” Fang Si Ting set the finished noodles on the table. “The car money? Saved from years on the job.”
Xiao Fen’s gaze filled with pity. “Emptied the coffers, huh?”
“No way…”
Before he finished, Xiao Fen patted his shoulder. “I get it, I get it. Don’t worry—big bro will treat you to the good life from now on.”
The higher you climb, the cleaner you gotta be. Eyes everywhere, one slip and you’re done. Living frugally? No big deal.
He was a star now—money rained in minutes. If Fang Si Ting was tight, he wouldn’t abandon him. A little support? Like keeping a pretty boy toy.
Ah, such a decadent, fulfilling sugar-daddy life.
Fang Si Ting stared at the hand on his shoulder: “…”
Whatever—he couldn’t explain it.
“In a few days, come meet my family. You’ll see then.”
These past days had raced beyond his plans, faster than expected, but the steps still mattered.
“Another official gig?”
“No.”
“Then what’s to see? Pass.” Xiao Fen pouted disdainfully.
Fang Si Ting nodded. Things moved fast; the kid wasn’t ready, got cold feet—understandable.
“Wow, Mr. Black Cat, these noodles smell amazing.” Xiao Fen’s nose twitched in delight.
He could cook too—bonus points!
Golden broth over white noodles, topped with fried peanuts, pickled beans, braised beef slices, fresh shrimp, greens, and a fried egg. Sesame seeds scattered on top, steam rising—aroma hit hard.
Seeing Xiao Fen hype it up, Fang Si Ting’s features softened. He handed over chopsticks. “Sit and eat before Song Hui gets here.”
Xiao Fen shot him a resentful look.
“Why have I been standing so long without sitting?”
Fang Si Ting then remembered. He was about to fetch a cushion when someone pressed him back down beside the dining table.
The next moment, a person rubbed up against his thigh.
Xiao Fen pulled the bowl of noodles from across the table, picked up a small bite with his chopsticks, and tasted it. It was so delicious it was unreal.
“Lacks spice.” It didn’t have enough kick.
“No eating.” Fang Si Ting wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him from sliding off his lap while rhythmically pressing the acupoints on his lower back.
Xiao Fen smelled even better.
He looked even more delectable.
Fang Si Ting’s throat bobbed a few times as he stared darkly at the neck peeking from the collar of the sweater in his arms.
“How can you eat noodles without any spice? It’s still got that nice sour tang—really whets the appetite.”
“You’ll be hurting when you hit the toilet later.” His voice came out hoarse.
Xiao Fen paused with his chopsticks and shot a resentful glance at the man behind him.
“Inspector Fang, you haven’t done any work these past few days, have you?”
“Yeah.”
He had already handed off Country A’s pirate suppression operation and J Country’s international rescue command to others.
The second phase of recording was done now too. He just had to wait for the third.
“No wonder.” He sneered. With nothing to do, the guy was just warmly fed and sex-crazed.
Seeing him so idle was seriously annoying.
An hour later, Song Hui’s car pulled up right on time at the door. The moment he took out his phone, he spotted Xiao Fen in the rearview mirror, face flushed with satisfaction.
A tall figure trailed close behind him, matching his every step.
Song Hui pocketed his phone and asked the man climbing into the car, “Anything else from the official side?”
“Nope.”
“Then Inspector Fang…”
“Assistant.” Fang Si Ting replied flatly.
Song Hui’s eyes went wide. His fingers trembled as he secretly typed a message to Xiao Fen.
“How much are you paying him?”
“Free.”
It was all consensual, mutual help—pure, clean physical friendship. Talking money would just be tacky.
Xiao Fen had just sent his reply when he thought of Fang Si Ting’s monk-like, monotonous existence. He added, “Recommend some fancy, delicious restaurants.”
Since Fang Si Ting had sent him off in the car, he ought to return the favor. That way, if the guy ever went broke, he’d think to rely on him first—not someone else.
It was time to let Inspector Fang get a preview of his sugar daddy’s power.
