AFM 47

Jing Mian had taken leave for the competition and still had one day of vacation left.

Lazing around at home with nothing to do, unable to participate in the competition yet streaming from home didn’t seem appropriate for his fans either. With Mr. Ren out for business, Jing Mian suddenly felt like going out for a walk.

A thought flashed through his mind, and he asked Mr. Ren, “If it’s convenient, could I visit your workplace tomorrow?”

After asking, he suddenly felt it might be a bit abrupt.

After all, apart from their daily shared breakfasts, cohabitation, and occasional intimacy, this would be the first time they’d step into each other’s time and lives beyond their routines.

Unexpectedly, Mr. Ren paused while tying his tie and replied almost without hesitation, “Why wouldn’t it be convenient?”

Jing Mian let out a quiet sigh of relief.

A faint sense of anticipation welled up inside him.

After two months of cohabitation and marriage, he had never once visited Mr. Ren’s workplace.

Jing Mian slept until noon. Now, sitting on the bed, clutching a corner of the pillow, he watched as Mr. Ren dressed and tied his tie.

It wasn’t an ordinary suit—it was a looser, more casual style, effortlessly cool and solemn, exuding a restrained allure.

The legendary “clothes hanger”—with a figure and face like Mr. Ren’s, even a burlap sack would look good on him.

However, he wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination,

but Mr. Ren seemed unusually quiet today.

Though usually reticent, today even Jing Mian, who had grown accustomed to his demeanor, noticed the difference.

So… Mr. Ren seemed to be in a bit of a low mood.

Was it because of him?

As his thoughts spiraled, he suddenly heard Mr. Ren ask, “Does your waist still hurt?”

Jing Mian froze for a moment before realizing what he meant, his ears instantly heating up. “Um… it’s better now.”

Last night, a certain position had been held for too long, and he might have cried out in pain…

Actually, it wasn’t exactly pain—just that in that position, certain moments were too intense, too rough. The overwhelming speed made Jing Mian want to flee, but his shoulders were pinned down by broad hands sliding beneath him, leaving no room for escape—like a sudden storm.

Pleading for him to slow down or be gentler usually had the opposite effect, acting as a catalyst instead. So when Jing Mian couldn’t take it anymore, he could only say it hurt.

At that, Husband would stop.

Then ask where it hurt.

Jing Mian: “……”

Jing Mian whispered that his waist hurt.

First, because other places were too embarrassing to mention. Second, it was partly true—with the numbing effect of the lube, it wasn’t pain, just pleasure.

So when the first round ended, Husband lifted him up, sat him on his lap, and massaged his waist for a long time.

But as the massage continued, things started to feel off again.

Thus, it became a vicious cycle. By the time the final round ended, Jing Mian’s thighs were trembling, and he genuinely couldn’t straighten his waist anymore.

Mr. Ren seemed to recall something and suddenly said, “Tomorrow won’t work.”

Jing Mian looked up. “Huh?”

Ren Xingwan said, “I have a business trip to W City tomorrow. It’ll be busy.”

A business trip?

So sudden?

And to W City?

A map flashed in Jing Mian’s mind—Lin City was at one corner of the oasis, while W City was at the opposite end, the two points separated by a vast distance.

…So far.

And this was a blatant rejection.

Jing Mian nodded, a little disappointed. “Okay…”

Moreover, he had only just returned from his own short business trip, and now, just a day later, it was Mr. Ren’s turn.

Jing Mian asked, “What time is your flight?”

Mr. Ren: “Nine o’clock.”

They had to wake up early in the morning, with little time to spare. It seemed they could only share breakfast together—just this one meal.

Jing Mian asked, “How long will you be gone?”

Mr. Ren replied, “A week.”

Jing Mian thought to himself, That’s so long.

Unsure of what else to say, Jing Mian murmured softly, “Husband, stay safe.”

“Don’t overwork yourself.”

As he spoke, Jing Mian continued thinking aloud, “Go to bed early at night.”

Mr. Ren’s gaze seemed to settle on him. After a brief pause, he said, “We should call.”

Jing Mian didn’t catch it clearly. “Hmm?”

Mr. Ren repeated patiently, “We agreed before—when one of us is away on business, we’d call every day at eight. Remember?”

Jing Mian nodded in a daze. “I remember.”

Mr. Ren asked, “Does it still count?”

Jing Mian smiled. “It counts.”

Mr. Ren added seriously, “Twice a day—morning and evening.”

Suppressing the corners of his lips, Jing Mian unconsciously raised two fingers, lightly brushing against the smooth pillowcase, and obediently said, “Got it. Twice.”

At that moment, Jing Mian thought he caught the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of Mr. Ren’s lips. It wasn’t very noticeable.

Though Jing Mian hadn’t found out why his husband had been in a bad mood today, his heart still brightened inexplicably.

Mr. Ren ruffled Jing Mian’s hair.

Not enough to mess it up—just a gentle brush against his locks and temples.

Jing Mian squinted the eye on that side but didn’t pull away, remaining obedient as his husband touched him.

Fingertips unconsciously trailed down to the corner of Jing Mian’s eye, rubbing lightly against the slightly swollen, damp skin.

Mr. Ren remarked, “You cry so easily.”

“This area is almost swollen.”

Jing Mian stiffened slightly.

His face burned almost instantly.

He rarely cried in front of his husband, so Mr. Ren must have been referring to last night—when they had fulfilled their obligation.

When it came to intimacy, Jing Mian seldom took the initiative.

Most of the time, things escalated naturally when the atmosphere grew heated. Though Mr. Ren wasn’t talkative, he was always the one to initiate, to take the lead, leaving Jing Mian weak-limbed and helpless, forced to simply endure.

But yesterday had been a rare exception—the first time Jing Mian had taken the initiative.

Since then, the dynamic between them seemed to have shifted slightly.

If before, they had been respectful and courteous…

Now, there was something indescribable—a delicate, ambiguous tension.

Dazed by the heat creeping up his face, Jing Mian pressed his lips together and defended himself, “I don’t cry easily.”

He muttered under his breath, “If Husband didn’t lick or bite, it wouldn’t swell.”

……

To an outsider, their conversation might have sounded like flirting.

But Jing Mian knew better—flirting was impossible for someone like Mr. Ren.

“So it’s my fault.”

Mr. Ren leaned down, seeming to consider it before murmuring softly, as if amused, “Husband will be more careful next time.”

Mr. Ren rarely smiled, so Jing Mian felt an odd sensation.

Right now, his husband looked… so gentle.

Compared to when they first met and even after moving in together, he seemed to have changed a lot.

And… next time?

Would there even be a third obligation?

There would be no more excuses, no special occasions or anniversaries—unless Mr. Ren got drugged again.

If they waited until their wedding anniversary, that was still far away.

Suddenly remembering something, Jing Mian spoke up, “Husband can use my suitcase.”

“I’ve already taken out the spare clothes. Everything inside is new—toiletries, disposable masks, a hat, chargers…”

Since he had just returned, his luggage was already packed, saving him the trouble of packing again.

Mr. Ren looked at the bright gleam in Jing Mian’s eyes and said, “Alright.”

The man paused, then added, “Thank you.”

Jing Mian replied, “You’re welcome.”

Then, Jing Mian watched as his husband packed his luggage.

Mr. Ren’s hands were beautiful—knuckles distinct, long and fair.

However, when Mr. Ren’s hand moved downward, about to touch the bottom compartment of the suitcase, Jing Mian’s gaze suddenly froze.

Though he showed no outward reaction, an inexplicable panic surged within him at that moment.

Because in that small compartment lay his medication.

He had taken the entire bottle with him for convenience when he went to M City, and after returning, he hadn’t had the chance to take it out yet.

Jing Mian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he suddenly spoke, “Mr. Ren.”

The man’s fingers paused.

He looked up. “Hmm?”

Jing Mian found himself at a loss for words, a chill creeping up his spine. “I’m a bit thirsty. Could you get me a glass of water?”

His husband stood up to fetch water, seemingly unaware of anything unusual.

Seizing the moment while the man was out of the bedroom, Jing Mian bent down, retrieved the small medicine bottle, and tucked it back into the hidden pocket of his backpack.

Only then did his pounding heart gradually slow down.

Before their contractual marriage, Mr. Ren hadn’t known about his illness.

Jing Mian wasn’t sure if the marriage would end if his husband found out.

Soon, the man returned with water, watching as Jing Mian gulped it down.

Not long after, Jing Mian heard his husband’s voice:

“I’ve ordered breakfast. Pick it up tomorrow morning.”

Jing Mian was slightly taken aback. “Alright.”

“Temperatures will drop next week. Wear the coat from the third layer of the walk-in closet.”

Jing Mian silently repeated to himself—third layer.

“Don’t water the flowers. Leave that to the housekeeper.”

Jing Mian nodded.

Mr. Ren said, “You’re in charge of our little potted plant.”

Jing Mian froze for a moment, pressing his lips together.

Ren Xingwan had said—our little potted plant.

His ears suddenly felt burning hot.

He felt… inexplicably flustered.

Jing Mian’s ears flushed slightly. “Anything else?”

Mr. Ren said, “Eat less instant noodles.”

Jing Mian suppressed a laugh. “Alright.”

“Cold medicine and fever reducers are in this drawer.”

Jing Mian looked down and nodded.

“There’s also some in the first-aid kit’s hidden compartment.”

“If you don’t know how to take them, call Dr. Zheng and have him come over.”

Ren Xingwan paused, then pointed at himself and said, “Then call your husband.”

Jing Mian smiled. “Call my husband first.”

Ren Xingwan paused again and said, “No need to call me first. I’d also need to contact the doctor first.”

Jing Mian: “…”

Alright.

Sorry to bother you, husband.

A short while later, Jing Mian, his legs still weak, watched as the man left through the front door. He returned to the second floor, curled up in bed, and used his tablet to watch replays of other provincial-level Glory matches.

It was only after returning home that he realized he had lost his phone.

Mr. Ren said his phone had been left in Greek’s car and that someone had been sent to retrieve it. The drive wasn’t long, so it should arrive soon.

Half an hour later, Jing Mian heard a knock at the door.

He thanked Chen Ke, Mr. Ren’s assistant, who had come to deliver the phone.

Sitting back on the sofa, Jing Mian scrolled through his unread WeChat messages, replying to them one by one for over ten minutes.

Then, Jing Mian suddenly noticed a distinctive system notification pop up at the top of the screen—it looked familiar, like it was from that forcibly downloaded app from not long ago.

[Tip:]

[You and your spouse haven’t engaged in marital intimacy for twenty days.]

Jing Mian’s fingers froze.

When he tapped on it, the app displayed another message:

[Marital life not harmonious?]

[For emotional counseling, please contact your local marriage counseling headquarters, where professional psychologists will help resolve your concerns.]

Jing Mian: “…”

Under normal circumstances, such a prompt would strike him as absurd and shocking. However, just last night, he and Mr. Ren had genuinely fulfilled their marital obligations.

Perhaps because his phone wasn’t nearby—left in Greek’s car—he’d coincidentally missed it, and the app failed to record this particular obligation.

What was incomprehensible wasn’t just that the app recorded such things.

Even more baffling was that this one particularly intense marital obligation had slipped through the system’s records… and Jing Mian actually felt somewhat indignant and wronged.

…As if he’d been thoroughly exhausted for nothing.

Moreover, although their marriage was contractual, their relationship had been relatively stable so far.

At the very least, he and his husband didn’t need to visit any marriage counseling centers.

After pondering for a while, Jing Mian tapped into the app’s customer service page and quietly submitted a data error appeal.

“…”

The appeal process didn’t seem difficult, as there had been precedents where users failed to record activities due to not having their phones nearby. However, to file the appeal, Jing Mian had to complete several steps.

Then, the automated chatbot asked him the following questions:

When did it happen?

Where?

How long did it last?

Approximately how many rounds.

…

Jing Mian: “…”

Enduring the embarrassment, he answered each question one by one. Finally, on the completion page, he saw the ‘Appeal Successful’ icon.

Mr. Ren returned very late that day.

By eleven, Jing Mian could barely keep his eyes open.

He had no idea about Mr. Ren’s schedule for the day. While fans could track their idol’s activities, Jing Mian had no clue how to check such things and had never asked the man. So most of the time, he had no idea where his husband went, what he did, when his schedule ended, or when he’d return home.

However, as he drifted off to sleep at night,

He faintly felt the bed dip beside him, and the covers were lifted.

Jing Mian opened his eyes groggily: “You’re back?”

“Mn.”

Mr. Ren lay down, lowering his voice: “Did I wake you?”

Jing Mian shook his head slightly, too drowsy to form complete sentences, and asked:

“…Are you leaving again?”

Mr. Ren replied: “Tomorrow morning.”

Even in his sleepy state, Jing Mian could manage a formal reminder, “Be careful, Husband.”

Mr. Ren, now lying down, seemed to gaze in Jing Mian’s direction for a moment.

Mr. Ren asked, “Anything else?”

Jing Mian, “…Hm?”

Ren Xingwan’s voice was soft, “Besides being careful, is there anything else?”

Too drowsy to separate thoughts from sleep, Jing Mian seemed to ponder for a while.

He said, “I’ll wait for you to come back.”

Jing Mian’s hand, resting at the edge of the blanket, peeked out with just his fingertips, curled slightly in relaxed slumber.

Mr. Ren’s large hand slowly enveloped Jing Mian’s from above.

Palm against the back of his hand, long fingers slipping between his, Jing Mian’s hand appeared a full size smaller than the man’s, and slightly paler.

His nails were clean and smooth.

Almost entirely cradled within Mr. Ren’s grasp.

…

The bedroom fell into deep quiet.

Only the faint, even breaths of two people remained.

Manager Yang arrived at Ren Xingwan’s residence early the next morning.

Then, President Ren got into the car. Yang Fan took his coat and had the assistant unfold and fold it neatly while he reported the itinerary, as well as the speeches and scripts needed for tonight’s event.

City W was too far from Lincheng—even by private jet, it would take over three hours.

But an important grand ceremony was to be held, with Brother Ren as the finale guest. His schedule was packed, and the entire trip would take six or seven days.

Manager Yang felt a bit of sympathy for President Ren.

After all, it hadn’t been long since his marriage to Mr. Jing Mian, and they hadn’t even had time for a honeymoon before he had to travel all over the country.

Though absence makes the heart grow fonder, a separation so soon after marriage was another matter entirely.

And Manager Yang vaguely sensed something else.

Mr. Ren… seemed to be in a bit of a low mood.

He had noticed it yesterday, but today, after President Ren left home, the atmosphere became even more palpable.

Manager Yang was experienced, so he was more attuned to reading the room. He didn’t dare bring up anything unrelated, focusing diligently on work the entire day.

Until the ceremony ended.

As the two waited for the driver to bring the car through the VIP lane, a cold breeze swept past under the chilly night sky.

Mr. Ren suddenly spoke: “Yang Fan.”

Manager Yang quickly responded, “President Ren.”

“Have you ever been separated from your partner?”

…

Manager Yang was visibly taken aback.

This question was quite unusual compared to the topics he usually discussed with President Ren. He answered, “Of course. Separation happens often.”

“A few days apart during business trips, sometimes a week or two, or even months. The most recent is right now.”

Husband fell silent for a few seconds.

Then asked, “Does being apart for too long affect the relationship?”

Manager Yang’s folded hands twitched slightly.

A quiet surprise rose in his heart.

President Ren actually cared about something like this?

In Yang Fan’s impression, Mr. Ren was the textbook definition of someone untainted by worldly concerns.

In this industry, those who ultimately succeeded either had unimaginable connections and resources or were people with strong goals and execution.

Mr. Ren had both.

So when Yang Fan first heard President Ren was getting married, he was nearly stunned.

Later, upon learning it was an arranged marriage between families, Yang Fan thought it fit President Ren’s style perfectly.

Emotions seemed the least worthy of effort—even marriage was no exception.

But this Mr. Jing seemed a little different.

Yang Fan weighed his words carefully,: “It depends on the situation.”

“You and Mr. Jing are newlyweds, and your feelings are at their most intense. This trip will last at most a little over a week. Absence makes the heart grow fonder—it might not just avoid affecting your relationship but could even strengthen it.”

Mr. Ren didn’t respond.

As if considering the credibility of those words.

Yang Fan asked, “Is Mr. Jing clingy?”

Mr. Ren looked at him. “No.”

Yang Fan: “…”

He seemed to have touched on a sensitive topic he shouldn’t have.

Yang Fan thought for a moment. “If you’re really worried about being apart too long, you could buy Mr. Jing some small gifts.”

“Gifts…?”

“Yes.” Yang Fan said, “After all, City W is so far from Lincheng. There are lots of delicious foods and fun things you can’t get locally. Mr. Jing is young—he’d definitely be interested in those.”

Mr. Ren seemed persuaded, though he frowned slightly.

As if deep in thought.

He asked Yang Fan, “What do people usually buy?”

Yang Fan considered, then listed examples, “For men, wallets, watches, keyboards, mice, basketballs…”

Yang Fan’s voice gradually trailed off as he noticed President Ren’s expression.

Yang Fan tentatively asked, “He doesn’t like it?”

Mr. Ren replied, “No, he doesn’t.”

This time, Manager Yang was truly stumped.

Being a relationship consultant wasn’t easy.

Rubbing his fingertips against his palm, he hesitantly asked, “Then… do you remember what Mr. Jing liked when he was little?”

When he was little?

Mr. Ren was momentarily taken aback.

“……”

“I remember.”

After a few seconds of silence, Mr. Ren repeated in a low voice,

“I remember.”