EIP 18

Zhou Jun tightened his grip. His gaze grew distant, unfocused. He pulled Yong Jin away from the window and murmured, almost to himself, “Why me?”

Yong Jin’s lips moved slightly, but he gave no answer. Zhou Jun cupped his face, his fingers pressing lightly against the corner of his mouth, feeling the damp warmth beneath his thumb. The confusion in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by something calmer, more resigned. His voice was soft, and the words that followed felt reckless, almost like a fantasy.

“Can we just sleep together this once? We’ll say goodbye at dawn.”

In his mind, he imagined something naive and romantic. Just one night, like a mistake they could both leave behind. But when Yong Jin heard those words, his eyes narrowed slowly. The anger that surfaced in his expression was unmistakable.

Zhou Jun felt the strength in Yong Jin’s hand tightening at his waist. It began to hurt. He lowered his eyes and let out a soft cry, trying to push him away.

Before he could, he was lifted. His waist and abdomen were pressed against Yong Jin’s shoulder. Zhou Jun was stunned, overcome with a wave of shame. He was a grown man, yet here he was, being carried off like a helpless child. His face burned, and by the time he was tossed onto the bed, his mind was in disarray.

Yong Jin stood at the foot of the bed, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. His muscular chest was gradually revealed. Only now did Zhou Jun notice the scars that crisscrossed his skin—some shallow, some deep, curved and jagged. They had always been hidden under clothing, unseen. Zhou Jun sat up, eyes fixed on them. He missed whatever Yong Jin had just said. After a long pause, he lifted his gaze.

“What did you just say?”

Yong Jin leaned down and grabbed his chin. His smile was thin. His eyes were cold.

“Mr. Zhou really is bold. I’m impressed.”

Zhou Jun blinked, stunned. He didn’t understand how his words could be seen that way. Yong Jin moved closer. His voice dropped.

“But unfortunately, in our relationship, it’s never been your decision.”

Zhou Jun’s eyes widened slightly. He still didn’t understand. Just a moment ago, Yong Jin had been whispering that he smelled good, that he would die for him. Now he was smiling politely while his tone pierced like ice. Yong Jin released him, sat down at the edge of the bed, and didn’t even bother taking off his shoes.

Zhou Jun stayed where he was, dazed.

Yong Jin raised an eyebrow. “Come here.”

Zhou Jun pressed his lips together and didn’t move. He stared at Yong Jin in silence. It wasn’t until Yong Jin repeated himself that he finally slid off the bed and stepped forward. His robe hung open, his feet were bare, and his expression was confused.

He looked like a child who had no idea what he had done wrong. But Yong Jin didn’t soften. His eyes were cold. His voice was firm.

“Kneel.”

Zhou Jun froze. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Yong Jin leaned back on the bed and smirked.

“Don’t want to?”

Zhou Jun slowly crouched, half-kneeling in front of him. His chest ached. His eyes burned. His lips trembled with resentment.

Yong Jin showed no reaction. He reached out, grabbed the back of Zhou Jun’s head, and pressed him forward, guiding him toward his groin.

He told him to open his mouth. Told him to relax his tongue. Told him to take it in properly.

Zhou Jun’s mouth was filled for the first time. He had never done anything like this before. His throat instinctively tensed. His eyes welled with tears. Yong Jin’s hand tightened behind his head, full of anger and frustration.

Zhou Jun was furious too. He wanted to bite down. To draw blood. To disappear from this man’s life. He even considered fleeing abroad, as far as he could go. His chest was full of rage, shame, and helplessness.

He heard Yong Jin breathing hard above him.

“This has nothing to do with your brother. You were the one who started it. It was you who came at me at the party a year ago.”

The last part was almost growled through clenched teeth.

Zhou Jun looked up at him, tears clinging to his lashes. He didn’t understand. His mind was spinning. He knelt there, disheveled, trying to grasp what Yong Jin meant.

But the truth was, he didn’t remember. Yong Jin knew that. He had always known.

And yet, as he looked at Zhou Jun now, something inside him twisted again. It was as if he was only just realizing who this man truly was.

---

Yong Jin had only gone to that banquet as a favor to a friend. He hated crowds. He had long since grown used to being in public, but he still preferred solitude. Even at high-society events, he rarely paid attention to anyone. He was arrogant, especially when it came to intimacy.

Desire was not foreign to him, but he refused to indulge it easily. Even when someone caught his eye, he kept his distance. If they could endure his indifference, he would be generous. If not, he wouldn’t chase. He didn’t believe in possessiveness. If a lover betrayed him, he wouldn’t punish them. He would simply give them money and send them away.

He could be considerate—almost gentle—but he would never admit to being anyone’s partner. He knew what came with that word. Expectations, obligations. He had too much to worry about already. A man in his position could not afford emotions. He had seen too many people fall because of love.

Meeting Zhou Jun had been an accident.

That night, Yong Jin had planned to leave early. He didn’t enjoy the party and only stayed to speak with a few friends. Eventually, he stepped outside and waited in the car. He sat in the back seat with the window cracked open, smoking in silence. He was slightly tipsy. Just as he loosened his tie, the car door opened.

Someone climbed in.

He turned, expecting his aide. Instead, a man in a dark red suit flopped into the seat beside him, clearly drunk. The man laughed and muttered something about not making a fuss. Yong Jin, illuminated faintly by the streetlight, recognized him. He had seen him inside.

But he didn’t relax. There were plenty of people who wanted him dead.

Deputy Chen turned around from the front seat, looking uneasy. “Sorry, Major General. I thought…”

Yong Jin had not specified who he was meeting. Chen assumed the man was expected and hadn’t stopped him. Just like that, the car of Major General Yong had been boarded by a stranger.

The stranger was bold. He called out a woman’s name. He leaned in, wrapping an arm around Yong Jin’s waist. He acted as if he didn’t even notice the gun pointed at his temple.

He reached into Yong Jin’s inner pocket.

Deputy Chen raised his weapon as well.

But the man only pulled out a lighter. A silver lighter shaped like a lion’s head. He flicked it open, letting a flame dance in the darkness.

The flash of light made Yong Jin’s pupils contract. His heartbeat quickened. Whether it was fear or irritation, he didn’t know. He only knew that, in the flickering glow, he could see the man’s face clearly for the first time.

Narrow eyes. Gray-blue irises. Lips redder than his cheeks. Shadows played across his features, softening them. But they were unmistakably male.

The man chuckled lowly. “What a beauty,” he said.

Yong Jin had no time to react. The man noticed the gun, sighed softly, and said, “If you’re not going to shoot, then I’m about to do something you definitely won’t like.”

Yong Jin’s brows furrowed. He had never been interested in men. No man had ever dared to act this boldly toward him.

Then the stranger leaned in and said with a smirk,

“If I die beneath the peony, I’ll still make a charming ghost.”

Then he kissed him.

Yong Jin froze. He had never kissed anyone. He wasn’t a romantic, and he guarded his personal space fiercely. He never expected his first time being kissed to come like this—forced, surprising, and by another man.

And yet it had. Right here, in the back seat of his own car.