Fu Huixu said, “My father had something come up suddenly, so he handed this matter over to me.”
“Baby, I sent you a message.”
He had only learned a few hours earlier from his father that he himself needed to get involved, and he had messaged the other man to ask about it. Although Ji Zhi had not replied, Fu Huixu knew that Ji Zhi had been hanging out with Chen Xingwen at the time, so he figured the message would be seen later.
Fu Huixu had never been one for banquets. After arriving at the venue alone, he drew a crowd of people eager to chat him up. His attitude was already frigid enough, but that did nothing to deter those hungry to cozy up to the Fu Family. Some brought their daughters along; others came solo.
Fed up, Fu Huixu retreated to a room upstairs to rest. He was just about to take the elevator down as the banquet neared its start when he ran straight into Ji Zhi.
The moment Ji Zhi heard about the message, his heart sank. It must have come after he climbed into Duan Zhao’s car—that was why he had missed it.
Ji Zhi inwardly kicked himself for overlooking Fu Huixu’s text, but he hadn’t forgotten that the man was still waiting for an answer.
The longer the hesitation dragged on, the more suspicious it would look.
Ji Zhi blurted out, “I came with… Uncle.”
“He said he was coming alone, and I thought he might feel lonely, so I tagged along to keep him company. It all happened so suddenly that I didn’t have time to tell you…”
Showing up at a high-society banquet like this with his real status would be impossible, so Ji Zhi stuck to the truth on that front. At least in Fu Huixu’s eyes, Duan Zhao was still just his uncle.
As he spoke, Ji Zhi snuck a sidelong glance at the waiter. Luckily, though the waiter had caught that brief moment of intimacy between him and Duan Zhao, he knew nothing of their true relationship.
Now, hearing Fu Huixu call Ji Zhi “Baby,” the poor guy was utterly baffled by the trio’s dynamic. He kept his mouth firmly shut, trying to fade into the background, though his eyes kept drifting toward Ji Zhi and Fu Huixu all the same.
Duan Zhao’s name made Fu Huixu frown on instinct.
He had no fondness for the man to begin with—let alone seeing Ji Zhi choose to attend the banquet with him instead of coming together.
Just hours ago, Ji Zhi had sent him those vacation photos, and now here he was, side by side with Duan Zhao.
Had there really been no time to tell him… or was it something Ji Zhi didn’t want to?
A strange unease stirred in Fu Huixu’s chest. After all, if it was the latter, and he already knew about Duan Zhao, why would Ji Zhi bother hiding it?
Fu Huixu’s frown deepened, his expression skeptical. Ji Zhi’s nerves jangled, and he pressed on. “I had some wine downstairs at the banquet earlier, and I’m not feeling great, so I came up here to rest…”
The mention of Ji Zhi feeling unwell yanked Fu Huixu’s focus from dissecting the story’s believability. He reached out on reflex to pull Ji Zhi into his arms for a closer look, saying, “Rest up properly first. You can explain later.”
Ji Zhi was right there beside him—he could always hear the full story afterward.
Ji Zhi’s health mattered more.
But Ji Zhi remembered the waiter still in the elevator. He shot a worried glance that way. “Hold on…”
He had meant to point out they had company, but Fu Huixu’s attention was locked on him. The man hadn’t even registered the figure lurking by the bed.
Just then, the elevator hummed to a stop, signaling their arrival at the new floor.
Ji Zhi had nearly picked the wrong level before, so the waiter piped up ahead of any movement. “Sir, this is the floor.”
Relief washed over Ji Zhi like a pardon. He turned to Fu Huixu. “You head to the banquet, then. It’s starting any minute. I’ll just crash in the room here…”
Fu Huixu had planned to head down, but spotting Ji Zhi had derailed that in an instant. Now, hearing about the discomfort, he dug in his heels. “I’ll walk you there first.”
The guest rooms came fully stocked, likely for guests planning to stay the night.
Once the waiter had shown Ji Zhi to his room, he slipped out, leaving Fu Huixu and Ji Zhi alone.
The door had barely clicked shut when Ji Zhi found himself pinned to the bed by Fu Huixu.
Ji Zhi:！！！
No, dude, you…
His body sank into the plush mattress, heart hammering like a jackrabbit.
Luckily, Fu Huixu let go before he could protest. His voice turned soft and coaxing, like soothing a child. “Baby, lie down and rest.”
Ji Zhi: “…Okay.”
He settled back as instructed, watching Fu Huixu tuck a light blanket over him with exquisite care, then dim the bedside lamp.
Still, the waiter from moments ago nagged at Ji Zhi’s mind. “If that waiter goes blabbing to Uncle about how you called me…”
Fu Huixu badly wanted Duan Zhao to hear it, but mindful of Ji Zhi’s earlier fretting, he reassured him. “Don’t worry, Baby. They won’t breathe a word.”
The staff knew better than to gossip—loose lips could burn them bad.
Ji Zhi tried again. “You should still head to the banquet…”
He hadn’t forgotten Duan Zhao mentioning he’d drop by later. The last thing he needed was for Fu Huixu to bump into him, so he hinted as gently as he could for the man to scram.
Fu Huixu’s eyes stayed glued to Ji Zhi. “No rush.”
Work had kept him buried at the office for days—no time with Ji Zhi. Now that chance had finally come, Fu Huixu wasn’t budging.
It was the first time Fu Huixu had seen Ji Zhi in a suit.
The bespoke garment fit like a glove, a masterfully forged sheath that swaddled the body he remembered—the one draped in whisper-soft skirts, curves bared in heartbreaking vulnerability. Crisp shoulders tapered to a nipped waist, straight trousers sheathing long legs: rigorously proper, the epitome of decorum.
Nothing like the fragile, devastating beauty etched in his memory. And yet, a deeper, stealthier spark ignited now.
A different seduction altogether. The fabric barred any direct glimpse, magnifying instead the heat and contours his fingers recalled beneath—every inch straining against its bonds, that slender throat collared tight by starched fabric…
It all whispered of a forbidden sensuality, ascetic and urgent, begging to be unwrapped by hand.
Fu Huixu had no idea if Ji Zhi had picked it out himself or if someone else had. He only knew it suited him to perfection.
The realization that others had ogled it first sank like lead in his gut.
Fu Huixu was grateful that Ji Zhi’s convenient “drunkenness” kept him confined to the room.
Fu Huixu lingered by the bed, showing zero signs of leaving. Ji Zhi’s anxiety ratcheted up. “But you came here for the banquet. Go take a look first.”
Those words snapped Fu Huixu back to reality, reminding him why he was even here.
Grudgingly, he made to leave.
But not without brushing a featherlight kiss to Ji Zhi’s lips first.
He had meant it to be chaste, but the instant their mouths met, control frayed.
Ji Zhi shoved him back just in time—otherwise, Fu Huixu might never have stopped.
Their clothes bore fresh wrinkles from the tussle, but neither cared.
Fu Huixu was barely out the door when the knot in Ji Zhi’s chest unraveled.
Bumping into him hadn’t been the plan, but at least he was gone now.
Something nagged at him, like he’d missed a detail. But scheming his escape from Duan Zhao had already left his brain cells feeling scorched and spent.
He didn’t have his phone anyway, and checking it was the last thing on his mind. Instead, he sprawled on the bed, mulling whether Fu Huixu had bought his excuse—and what to say next.
Soundproofing in the guest room was top-notch. Peering out the bedside window, Ji Zhi saw the outdoor crowd filtering back inside. The banquet must have kicked off, though not a peep reached him here.
He half-hoped Duan Zhao would hurry back so they could bolt from this powder keg.
The mattress cradled him softer than his dorm bunk, the air temperate and soothing. Taut nerves went slack; his thoughts melted into drowsy warmth, like sinking into a hot spring. He fought to stay sharp, to sit up—but sleep tugged relentlessly.
Some unknowable time later, Ji Zhi’s eyes flew open.
The bedside lamp bathed the room in its cozy glow, but a shadow now loomed at the bed’s edge.
Sleep-fogged awareness sharpened in a heartbeat. There sat Duan Zhao.
Ji Zhi had no clue when he’d slipped in. Half-dozing, he hadn’t caught a sound.
Dim light softened the hard edges of Duan Zhao’s frame, gilding it in amber. Long legs clad in bespoke trousers crossed with elegant poise, shoe tips gleaming pristine.
He sat just beyond the lamp’s reach, not crowding—more like a sentinel statue. Slender fingers draped his knee, tapping idly. The aura of command and detachment held firm, but the intimate gloom lent it a quiet, almost tender predation.
His eyes had never left Ji Zhi, so he caught the awakening at once, lifting his gaze to meet it.
The deep brown pupils behind the gold-rimmed lenses appeared even richer under the warm light. The slight droop at the corners of his eyes softened in a strangely gentle curve amid the night, yet they remained so profoundly inscrutable that no one could see through them.
A brief silence settled over the air. Before Duan Zhao could speak, Ji Zhi broke it first. “Mr. Duan, when did you get here?”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
He needed to get him to hurry up and escape together with the other person.
Duan Zhao smiled, though his words came much faster than before. “It’s nothing. I just got back, and I’ve been thinking about something myself.”
