Those two words were like a spark, instantly igniting the dry tinder of tangled coldness and astringency.
The taut string snapped and collapsed.
Jing Mian noticed that Mr. Ren had stopped walking. The patch of skin he had kissed was gradually flushing with a faint redness, almost imperceptible.
Jing Mian wasn’t sure if Husband had wavered.
But the man neither spoke nor responded—he simply halted his steps. The brim of his cap cast a crescent of shadow over his eyes, making it impossible for Jing Mian to tell whether he was even looking at him.
Perhaps the heat had fried his nerves, clouding his judgment. Under normal circumstances, he would never have done something like this. Yet now, not only had he acted, but deep down, he faintly felt… if he wanted to shake Mr. Ren, he might need to go even further.
But this seemed to be his limit.
So, to an outsider, Husband remained as composed as ever. Even in Jing Mian’s subconscious, Mr. Ren—unswayed by any external temptations—clearly wasn’t affected by this approach.
“…”
Slightly disappointed, Jing Mian lowered his gaze and buried his forehead back into the crook of Husband’s neck.
The footsteps resumed.
Once they stepped outside the guesthouse, the chill assaulted them, and the last shred of Jing Mian’s rationality made him tense instinctively, pressing closer into Husband’s embrace.
Holding a man was eye-catching enough, let alone someone with Mr. Ren’s sensitive status.
But soon, he dismissed the concern.
What paparazzi would follow them all the way from Lincheng to M City?
With that thought, Jing Mian gradually settled down. In his daze, he glanced sideways and spotted a familiar car not far away.
He recognized it at once—it was the one his manager used to chauffeur Mr. Ren.
Anticipating where that car would take them, Jing Mian pursed his lips, instinctively resisting.
The next moment, he felt Husband’s palm tighten around him, squeezing just enough to make him furrow his brows slightly in discomfort.
Then, Brother’s voice sounded by his ear, restrained and hoarse,
“MianMian.”
“…Don’t move.”
For some reason,
To Jing Mian, those words didn’t sound like a warning. Instead, they had the effect of encouragement and provocation.
He lifted his head slightly, his lips brushing against Husband’s earlobe as light, heated kisses landed on the man’s cheek, ear, and neck.
In his haze,
Jing Mian seemed to hear Husband suck in a sharp breath.
Though unintentional on Jing Mian’s part, the warmth and softness of his lips, damp and lingering, were impossible for Mr. Ren to ignore.
A sliver of rationality remained, so Jing Mian didn’t dare touch Husband’s lips. Instead, between kisses, he whispered, “Brother.”
The night draped over the city, yet Jing Mian sensed the temperature rising—not just his own, but seemingly Mr. Ren’s as well, scorching enough to make him ache.
Though Husband was still holding him, something felt different. A sudden premonition struck Jing Mian.
—Mr. Ren probably… wouldn’t be taking him to the hospital first tonight.
He must have gone mad, because the realization made him exhale in relief.
But soon, they reached the car.
The door handle was gripped by a hand taut with veins, opened single-handedly, then slammed shut with a “thud” seconds later.
Jing Mian’s throat felt inexplicably dry. He swallowed hard.
If possible, Jing Mian wished Ren Xingwan could maintain his original posture. Though it was hard to admit, he needed his husband’s embrace right now—to draw warmth and scent from him, offering temporary relief from his thirst.
But it was merely scratching an itch.
However, Jing Mian soon sensed from the unfamiliar presence that there was someone else in the car.
It was the driver sent to pick up Mr. Ren.
Jing Mian’s lashes trembled, and he immediately settled down.
Shame could overpower desire—this was proven true in Jing Mian at this moment.
He consciously loosened his arms from around Ren Xingwan’s neck, lowered his hands, and pressed his palms against the seat beneath his sleeves, leaning slightly to the side to create some distance from his husband.
Yet, in the next moment, the man’s palm tightened around him. Jing Mian was pulled away from the seat by the firm strength of Ren Xingwan’s arm encircling his waist!
What was meant to be an escape only brought him back into the embrace, pressed even closer than before.
Jing Mian: “!”
His heartbeat scattered into chaos.
Held tightly around the waist, Jing Mian didn’t move—or rather, under his husband’s unyielding strength, he couldn’t move at all.
In his hazy vision, he wasn’t sure if Mr. Ren’s heartbeat was as frantic as his.
But his husband… seemed to have been shaken by him.
The towering figure reflected in Jing Mian’s eyes blended with the streetlights outside the window. In his dazed state, he realized this heart-pounding truth.
Mr. Ren looked up, his usually shallow, icy pupils now darkened with intensity as he spoke:
“Get out.”
…
Jing Mian suddenly understood—those words weren’t directed at him.
The driver in the front seat fell silent, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously at the command.
“Yes, President Ren.”
On the other side of the guesthouse.
Song Xianyang sat atop the fallen solid wood door.
After beating the man half to death, the suffocating anger in his chest finally eased a little. Throughout the night, he had experienced genuine panic. When all attempts to contact and search for Jing Mian failed, he had nearly called the police before President Ren arrived.
Sitting beside Greek, Song Xianyang noticed a cigarette had rolled out of Greek’s scattered pack on the floor.
His eyes suddenly lit up.
As if grasping at a lifeline, Song Xianyang picked one up, quickly lit it, and took a deep drag.
Only then did he feel satisfied in every sense.
Sitting there, he watched Greek cough uncontrollably, blood staining his lips. When he turned his head, he realized Brother Mianmian was no longer on the bed.
He had probably been taken away by President Ren.
Song Xianyang suddenly grew worried. The drug seemed to have aphrodisiac effects but didn’t completely knock the person out, meaning their consciousness remained intact.
So, whether it was their conversation after barging into the room or Mr. Ren’s sudden, unexpected appearance—under such circumstances, Brother Mianmian would inevitably… start questioning his identity.
The smoke curled lazily in the air, but it did nothing to ease Song Xianyang’s anxiety.
What worried and unsettled him most was this: If Brother Mianmian found out he had been secretly placed by President Ren to watch over him, would he never speak to him again?
And then, accordingly, he would have to leave the Team.
Wait… was it still appropriate to call him “Brother Mianmian” now?
The relief he had felt earlier now turned heavy again.
Song Xianyang let out a heavy sigh. He had already instructed the front desk that someone might violently dismantle the door soon and had prepared compensation in advance, so there was no need to worry about the homestay manager checking the situation immediately.
This also gave Song Xianyang ample time to vent his anger before calling the police.
Song Xianyang waited for a while, and sure enough, before long, rapid footsteps echoed through the hallway outside the homestay room.
Had the homestay owner arrived so quickly?
Song Xianyang stubbed out his cigarette, tossed it aside, stood up, and leaned against the wall.
However, when the footsteps stopped, he realized the person who entered was actually Li Shengwen.
Li Shengwen was drenched in sweat, looking utterly disheveled, as if he had only rushed over here some time after parting ways with Song Xianyang.
Initially, Li Shengwen had refused to reveal anything. After all, Greek’s reckless actions were their own business. Even if things had reached an irreparable point, they still had ways and opportunities to resolve it. But disclosing this deadly secret to an adversary? That would make him a complete fool.
Yet, when Song Xianyang grabbed Li Shengwen by the collar and punched him in the stomach, he noticed how the other man retched, his face terrifyingly pale, yet still refusing to utter a single word. It was then that Song Xianyang realized violence wouldn’t work on Li Shengwen.
Song Xianyang lowered his gaze and began searching Li Shengwen’s pockets. Finding nothing, his eyes landed on Li Shengwen’s tightly clenched fist.
Song Xianyang said exasperatedly, “At this point, what’s the use of hiding it?”
Li Shengwen bit his bloodless lips and remained silent.
Just as Li Shengwen tried to take advantage of Song Xianyang’s momentary distraction to throw whatever he was holding, Song Xianyang swiftly grabbed his wrist and squeezed hard.
Li Shengwen let out a pained whimper, the intense pain making it impossible for him to keep his grip. His palm loosened, and the small medicine bottle fell, caught deftly by Song Xianyang.
His gaze fell on the now-empty transparent bottle, no larger than a thumb, its scent faint but enough to make Song Xianyang’s pupils constrict.
“You drugged Brother Mianmian?”
Song Xianyang’s eyes burned with fury.
Li Shengwen’s expression twisted in distress. He swallowed hard and said, “…No, I didn’t know about it.”
“If you didn’t know, why were you hiding it?”
Song Xianyang gripped Li Shengwen’s collar, no longer having time to press for details. “Where is Jing Mian now?!”
Seeing Li Shengwen still refusing to speak, Song Xianyang suddenly released him and let out a cold, inexplicable laugh.
“Greek actually has the means to get his hands on something like this.” Song Xianyang looked up, teeth clenched. “Or does this have something to do with your father?”
“This kind of drug isn’t something just anyone can obtain, right? And for those specially sourced limited batches, there are records. Should I report this to the police and have us both verify it together?”
This time, Song Xianyang finally saw a crack of panic in Li Shengwen’s expression.
Sure enough, under Song Xianyang’s relentless questioning, Li Shengwen had no choice but to reveal Jing Mian’s whereabouts, allowing Song Xianyang to track them here.
However, what was unexpected was that President Ren had arrived before him.