Chapter 06

Hangover drinks are easy to get drunk on, and wine-induced tipsiness lingers.

The room was lit by a single floor lamp, casting a warm, yellow glow. The well-dressed man lit a cigarette, his fingers long and calloused. The sapphire cufflinks were removed, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms with prominent veins.

He rarely smoked inside.

The faint blue smoke swirled around, but Song Shuling didn’t look up, his eyelashes lowered.

Only occasionally, he would glance quickly.

Ruan Zhen had already started his shower.

From this angle, it was impossible to see his entire body as clearly as before, only the side profile and the rising steam.

Was the water so hot?

White foam slid down his spine, disappearing into the indentation at his waist, then quickly flowed down, accumulating around his bare feet.

His toes were round and his arches beautiful, but for an adult man, they were still a bit small, easily fitting in one hand. When Ruan Zhen stepped on the foam, it was as if he were descending into rolling waves, naturally clean, like a little mermaid stepping into the world.

Even walking caused him pain.

His skin, warmed by the water, had a faint pink hue.

After a while, he finally walked to the mirror, slowly picking up a towel to dry his hair and body.

A red string adorned his wrist, making his skin appear even paler.

Song Shuling didn’t know why Ruan Zhen kept his hair long. A file on the sofa contained background information on him, but it was so thin, a single sheet of paper could summarize his life so far. Song Shuling hadn’t read it; he just kept his head down for a long time, saying nothing.

The room was specially arranged.

Apart from the two-way mirror, the lampshades, carpet, and even the drinks in the fridge had been tampered with.

Song Shuling suspected Ruan Zhen’s identity.

He had enemies, and his Eldest Brother had made many enemies in the business world. During toasts and banquets, underhanded tactics were common, such as sending thugs or seductive beauties.

Had Ruan Zhen not noticed the mirror’s issue?

His expression was too calm.

Even his lazy movements and the dark, lustrous eyes after the shower gave him an unwitting innocence.

As if he were not the one who was naked.

His hair wasn’t fully dried, and water trickled down his body, sliding past his navel and into the leather leg ring that clung to his thighs.

Song Shuling crushed the cigarette butt.

He chuckled softly, loosening his tie.

Then he picked up his glass and drank it in one gulp.

The room wasn’t particularly large, but it had everything.

Ruan Zhen applied moisturizer to ease the pain, then found clean pajamas in the wardrobe.

They were pure cotton, light-colored plaid, and the size was just right.

They could hide his embarrassment.

After all, the chastity lock was too outrageous, made of metal around his waist and hips, with a small silver lock hanging down. Four chains intertwined, binding the leather leg ring—impossible to remove, as it would get stuck on his hips. In fact, after numerous attempts, his skin had already bruised.

Fortunately, the designer had some conscience, and it didn’t significantly affect his ability to use the bathroom.

But if the clothes were too tight, the leg ring’s butterfly-shaped decoration would be noticeable.

If all else failed, he could cut the leg ring with scissors.

Ruan Zhen pondered for a while. Since he couldn’t find the key, he decided to remove the leg ring first. He didn’t understand its purpose; it was too uncomfortable and made walking difficult.

Perhaps it was the long shower or the hunger, but his head felt foggy and dizzy.

He walked around the room, trying to push the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Hey, is anyone there?”

Ruan Zhen called out a few times, but there was no response.

Damn.

What was Song Shuling up to?

Was he retaliating because Ruan Zhen and Song Qinwen weren’t officially married, and he was just a nominal “sister-in-law”?

But none of this was Ruan Zhen’s fault!

How could he be blamed?

Ruan Zhen wasn’t one to stir up trouble. His greatest dream was to buy a new house for Zhang Laotou and the yellow dog, to give them a few days of stability. The old courtyard always leaked, and the walls often peeled. No matter how thoroughly he cleaned, he would still find cockroaches in the drains.

Whenever this happened, Ruan Zhen would call out to his grandfather, enjoying being pampered and showing his vulnerability.

Zhang Laotou would come over with a slipper.

As a child, Ruan Zhen was afraid of the dark, the cold, and bugs. He was very timid, with wide, dark eyes that never spoke.

Even as an adult, Ruan Zhen was still afraid.

He was slow and clumsy, doing everything at a sloth’s pace, but he couldn’t match Zhang Laotou’s efficiency.

“Alright,” Zhang Laotou would say, holding a tissue, “don’t be scared, they won’t bite you.”

Ruan Zhen would smile, his eyes crinkling.

“Grandpa is a hero.”

He had done nothing wrong. Zhang Laotou shouldn’t have collapsed at the Song family’s doorstep, and the yellow dog shouldn’t have died from a beating.

Now, why were hidden cameras installed in that old courtyard? Song Qinwen was dead, so why couldn’t his sons leave him alone?

Ruan Zhen sat on the bed, looking at his hands.

“Damn.”

He spoke coldly, “A bunch of despicable, shameless bastards!”

And Song Shuling.

“One day, I’ll put cockroaches in your food,” Ruan Zhen thought of the disdainful look from yesterday and raised his voice, “What a damn Third Lord, bastard Song Shuling—”

He was so engrossed in his rant that he didn’t notice the key turning in the lock.

A faint click.

The door opened.

Song Shuling stood in the doorway, looking down at him.

The room fell silent. Ruan Zhen sat up abruptly, blinking.

“What were you just saying?”

“Nothing.”

Song Shuling’s face was expressionless. “Tell the truth.”

Ruan Zhen hesitated. “I was talking about… Song… Squirrel. A squirrel ran past the window… Ah-choo!”

Song Shuling stepped back silently.

He must have caught a chill.

Ruan Zhen’s constitution wasn’t strong. As Zhang Laotou often said, he was a precious child who couldn’t withstand hunger or cold. The slightest neglect would make him sick.

Due to Song Qinwen’s funeral, Ruan Zhen hadn’t eaten for about two days.

At first, it wasn’t noticeable, but now the joint pain and headache were catching up.

He clutched his abdomen with effort. “I…”

Song Shuling watched him without comment.

The distance between them allowed him to see Ruan Zhen’s pale face, trembling shoulders, and the indescribable emotion in his gray-blue eyes.

“I think I have a fever.”

Ruan Zhen concluded. He knew his body well. Without food or sleep, he couldn’t handle it. He thought he might collapse at the funeral, but he had managed to hold on until now.

“A fever pill, hot water, and some congee,” Ruan Zhen frowned, “and a tomato and egg stir-fry with sugar.”

Song Shuling remained unmoved.

Ruan Zhen was familiar with this expression.

It was the detached, uninvolved look of someone in a position of power.

The next step would be for him to leave with a dismissive attitude, or—

“Chunfeng said he hopes to take you back.”

A scent of unfamiliar men’s cologne, perhaps woody, but Ruan Zhen couldn’t distinguish it. His calves were trembling, and his vision was blurring.

Song Shuling walked up to him, elegantly bending down. “Do you want to go back?”

Ruan Zhen’s head was foggy, and he couldn’t understand what Song Shuling was saying.

“Speak!”

Song Shuling suddenly grabbed Ruan Zhen’s chin without warning. “Who sent you?”

Ruan Zhen’s face was half-clamped, making it hard to breathe and impossible to escape. He could only whimper, “Let… let go…”

“Who sent you, huh?”

Song Shuling narrowed his eyes, applying a bit more pressure and even shaking him slightly, watching Ruan Zhen’s face turn red.

“You… you come closer, and I’ll tell you…”

Song Shuang didn’t let go, leaning in as if to listen.

Ruan Zhen’s Adam’s apple bobbed. In the moment the woody scent enveloped him, he hastily reached out and grabbed Song Shuling’s neck.

Song Shuling was taken aback. He didn’t pull away.

It was the second time.

Their bodies were pressed together, and he could almost hear each other’s heartbeats. He instinctively released Ruan Zhen’s chin and supported his arms. In the moment their breaths intertwined, Ruan Zhen opened his mouth—

And vomited.

His stomach was empty, so it was just acid.

Song Shuling stood there, stunned.

Ruan Zhen’s chest heaved, pitifully. He hadn’t eaten much in two days, and there was nothing to vomit, but tears welled up, and a thin, silvery trail of saliva clung to his lips, softening and wrinkling his face, making it look sour—

He wiped it all on Song Shuling’s shirt without hesitation.

He rubbed his face against Song Shuling’s chest, and the other man, stiff and unresponsive, didn’t react.

Not bad, he thought, the man had a good build.

Ruan Zhen felt an urge to laugh.

Soon, he was pushed away by a hand on his forehead, but he clung on, becoming a limp noodle, a boneless sloth, determined to hang onto Song Shuling, not out of desperation but with a fierce determination to drag him down too.

Song Shuling’s face darkened, finally managing to pry Ruan Zhen off. He turned and called out, “Xiao Liang, come here… Damn!”

He rarely swore.

Because Ruan Zhen had fallen backward.

Song Shuling caught him around the waist, but Ruan Zhen seemed to have lost consciousness and continued to slide down.

“Sir…”

Xiao Liang stood at the door, hesitant to enter. “The doctor is waiting downstairs.”

Song Shuling didn’t know whether to hold him or not. His shirt was a mess, and he glared at Xiao Liang. “Then bring him up!”

Xiao Liang disappeared in a flash.

While waiting for the doctor, Song Shuling carried Ruan Zhen horizontally to the bed and laid him down just as there was a knock on the door.

He quickly withdrew his hand and cleared his throat. “Come in.”

“Long time no see,”

Doctor Chen entered with his medical bag, joking with Song Shuling. “You called me so early, did something happen last night?”

They were from the same circle and had known each other since childhood, so they spoke more freely.

“Cut the crap,”

Song Shuling turned and sat on the sofa, somewhat impatiently. “He has a fever, his skin is very hot.”

Doctor Chen sat on the bed, giving Song Shuling an ambiguous look as he took out a thermometer.

“Let me check him first.”

He put on medical gloves. The person on the bed was already in a deep sleep, his cheeks flushed and his breathing heavy. He lifted the pajama top and paused when his gaze fell on the waist and hips.

The look he gave this time was different.

Complex, yet oddly relieved.

Song Shuling didn’t understand, propping his head with one hand, his gaze deep.

“Playing it this big?”

Doctor Chen let go, looking disgusted.

“Song Shuling, you’re a beast!”