Chapter 23.1

“You’re finally awake, hmm?” Ivan smiled as he looked up at Mo Zimu.

Mo Zimu took a deep breath, using all his strength to pry Ivan’s hand away, trying to bring his legs together, but Ivan smiled and didn’t move. No matter how hard Mo Zimu tried, he couldn’t break free. So, he simply collapsed back onto the pillow, closing his eyes again.

Ivan chuckled and leaned down to kiss him, then continue to tease him. Mo Zimu groaned and had no choice but to open his eyes. “Enough, I said enough!”

“So, you’re saying you had fun today, right?” Ivan’s deep-set eyes looked at him, a playful, almost mischievous gleam in them.

Mo Zimu fell silent for a moment, reluctantly admitting, “Yes, I had fun, alright? You damn bastard!”

Ivan laughed and pinned Mo Zimu down, their noses nearly touching. With a grin, he said, “Seven, you have to admit it. You like this bastard. You want to be intimate with me. You really do. It’s the truth.”

“You’re deluded!” Mo Zimu snorted coldly.

“Every time you have a sex dream, isn’t it always me you’re dreaming about? You call my name, imagining us in bed…”

“Have you never had a sex dream?” Mo Zimu’s face turned red. Though he tried to act calm, the involuntary moan earlier had already exposed too many of his secrets.

“I have. Every night, I dream of you calling my name in bed. It’s because I love you!” Ivan said casually.

“Then have you had your fill of love?”

Ivan smiled, “What, you want to burn the bridge after crossing the river? Baby, that’s not how it works. You’re coming back to New York with me! The days of doing whatever you want are over, got it?”

Mo Zimu turned his head. He knew Ivan was the kind of person who spoke with a smile, appearing casual, but every word he said was a promise he intended to keep.

Ivan picked him up and carried him to the bathtub, gently and thoughtfully washing him. Mo Zimu didn’t want to mistake this gentleness for affection.

Sometimes, hunters only clean the wounds on their prey to keep them confined.

Once everything was done, Ivan carried Mo Zimu back to bed. They lay naked under the covers. Even though it was Christmas Eve, the room was warm with the heater on, and their warm bodies intertwined without feeling cold.

Mo Zimu said, “You’re pretty good at taking care of people.”

Ivan smiled, “Getting a compliment from Seven isn’t easy.” He acted composed and generous, and Mo Zimu had no choice but to close his eyes and keep quiet.

“Seven…”

“Spit it out!”

“Let me take care of you for the rest of your life?”

Mo Zimu thought to himself, Are you kidding? I’m not sure I’ll survive till tomorrow. But he didn’t say anything, the exhaustion from their intense sex leaving him with no energy to figure out how to deal with this bear of a man.

He knew Ivan was watching him, his sharp eyes catching every little emotion. Mo Zimu tried to calm his spinning thoughts, and after some time, he drifted back to sleep.

When he woke up again, a pleasant scent reached his nose. Mo Zimu opened his eyes immediately.

He rolled off the bed and quietly padded down the carpeted stairs, his bare feet making no sound.

The air carried a faint caramel fragrance. Mo Zimu’s eyes lit up. Ivan was actually making sweet and sour pork ribs.

“Put your shoes on!” Ivan glanced at Mo Zimu’s bare feet.

This bastard’s got a thing for cleanliness, Mo Zimu thought, his mouth twitching slightly.

A little while later, a plate of glossy, red sweet and sour ribs was placed on the small kitchen table. Ivan said, “Eat, go ahead!”

Mo Zimu picked up a pair of chopsticks and sat down at the table. Ivan said proudly, “Try it, I’ve made this dish hundreds of times over the past two years!”

Mo Zimu paused for a moment after hearing that, then continued eating piece by piece. After a while, Ivan brought over some vegetables.

Since there was no Chinatown, they were a local type of vegetable, somewhat like Chinese bottle gourd, but not as crisp, and they easily became mushy. Ivan had stir-fried it with basil from Mo Zimu’s garden, and it actually had a unique flavor.

“Eat some vegetables!” Ivan added a bite of his stir-fried basil gourd to Mo Zimu’s bowl.

Mo Zimu replied indifferently, “Your cooking isn’t bad, but it’s a pity you’re not a chef.”

Ivan smiled and said, “Marry me, and I’ll cook for you every day from now on!”

“Why should I ‘marry’ you?!” Mo Zimu raised an eyebrow.

Ivan let out an “Oh” and casually said, “If you think it’s not a good idea, then I’ll marry you.”

Mo Zimu was momentarily speechless. He realized he had accidentally walked right into this bastard’s trap.

Fearing Ivan would latch onto this topic, he quickly lowered his head and focused on eating. After a few moments of silence, Ivan suddenly raised his hand. Mo Zimu froze, and Ivan smiled, saying, “You’ve got rice on your face!” He gently removed the rice grain from Mo Zimu’s face.

Mo Zimu kept his eyes lowered, continuing to eat his rice. Ivan occasionally raised his hand to add something to his bowl.

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

Just as Mo Zimu was about to get up, he heard someone open the door and a cold voice snapped, “What do you want?!”

Sticks were here too. Thinking back to the earth-shattering sex scene earlier and his uncontrollable screams, Mo Zimu felt a mix of anger, embarrassment, and frustration.

He shot Ivan a glare and quickly rushed over, pulling open the door wide where Sticks had been about to continue speaking on behalf of the host.

“Oh my God, baby, where did this guy come from? Are you in trouble?” The cook from the tavern, Marsha, whispered to Mo Zimu. “You know, I have a bit of a relationship with Sheriff Bush…”

“Don’t worry, Marsha, he’s… someone I know. He just came over to crash for a while,” Mo Zimu reassured her.

Marsha breathed a sigh of relief. “This guy doesn’t look like a proper person!”

“You’ve got sharp eyes, old woman!” came a cold voice from behind Mo Zimu.

Marsha jumped in fright, clutching her chest.

Mo Zimu couldn’t stand it anymore. He turned to shout inside, “Ivan, please control your animals at home!”

“You heard that…” Ivan lazily replied.

Sticks, still as thin as a bamboo pole after two years away from Mammon, muttered under his breath but reluctantly walked toward the back room.

“Don’t worry, Marsha, his mouth’s just like that, but he’s not a bad guy,” Mo Zimu comforted her. “Did you come for something else?”

“Oh, to put it simply, there’s going to be a masquerade at the tavern tonight. We’re celebrating Christmas Eve together, so come by later!”

Mo Zimu smiled slightly, knowing they were throwing a party to avoid him spending Christmas Eve alone like last year. He felt a bit of warmth in his heart and replied, “Okay, I’ll come.”

Marsha glanced over her shoulder before leaving, still suspicious.

Mo Zimu closed the door and went straight upstairs.

Sticks awkwardly fumbled with his chopsticks and said, “Boss, you could totally just take him with you. I don’t get why you keep asking if that piece of luggage should come along.” Still pissed about being called an animal earlier, he decided to get back at Mo Zimu with a jab.

Ivan lazily responded, “I can eat with my own animals at the table. Why can’t I ask if my luggage wants to come with me?”

Sticks was momentarily speechless, so he started aggressively stabbing his food with a fork to vent his frustration.

Mo Zimu put on a dark gray sweater. His black jeans were stained with semen, so he changed into a pair of light indigo jeans. He headed straight for the living room, grabbed his coat and scarf from the couch, and walked toward the door.

However, as soon as he opened it, someone slammed it shut.

“Seven, the boss himself came to pick you up, and you just ran off without a word? Don’t you think you’re being a little ungrateful?!” Sticks said coldly, leaning against the door.

“That’s his business, what does it have to do with me?” Mo Zimu replied coldly. “We have an old saying in China: ‘A good dog doesn’t block the way!’ Please, move aside.”

Sticks sneered, “It’s not your business? Do you think you could live this peacefully in the countryside without our boss? Do you know how many people the Sutherland family sent to find you? If it weren’t for our boss sending a group of people across the world, you’d have been caught and raped multiple times by now!”

“Enough!” Ivan frowned. “He’s just going to a party. I haven’t restricted his freedom!”

With the boss speaking up, Sticks had no choice but to reluctantly step away from the door. Mo Zimu smirked and opened it, putting on his coat and scarf before leaving.

Many houses in the small town had Christmas trees at their doorsteps. It was now close to evening, and the lights on the trees had come on, making them look colorful and beautiful.

He entered the tavern through the back door, seeing the kitchen staff and servers laughing and decorating.

The tavern had rented many costumes from the school’s drama club, and the owner and the kitchen staff had made more. Everyone was excitedly choosing costumes and masks.

Marsha picked a Snow White dress, and her plump body squeezed into the princess gown, making her probably the fattest Snow White ever, but everyone complimented her, and she blushed happily at the praise.

The owner, Jane, chose a Queen Elizabeth costume from an opera, which suited her perfectly, accentuating her strong presence with a regal touch. Everyone praised her as well.

“Come on, baby, pick one!” Jane playfully patted Mo Zimu’s ass.

At first, her habit of doing this, especially with him, had embarrassed him, but by now, he was used to it. He smiled and nodded, flipping through the costumes. To his surprise, he found a Faust outfit.

He grinned as he put it on, completing the look with the hat and mask.

There weren’t many people in the small town, but they all enjoyed gathering together. On festive days like this, even before the lights were lit, the tavern was already filled with people.

Everyone was dressed as various characters, and there was no shortage of people brave enough to dress as princes and princesses, and of course, clowns were in abundance. Mo Zimu nestled into a corner of the bar, ordered a simple cider, and sat on a wooden chair, enjoying the lively atmosphere.

All the food for the night was provided by Jane. Turkey, fried potato chips, fried fish, everything was laid out buffet-style. The tables and chairs were pushed to the side, creating a large open space.

Mo Zimu was almost buried in the sea of tables and chairs, sipping his drink, ready to enjoy a quiet evening in the midst of the bustling crowd.

The culinary talents of the British were inherently lacking compared to their neighboring French counterparts, but that didn’t stop the celebration’s energy. Fried potato chips and fried fish were their favorite and most popular foods, but it didn’t affect the vibrancy of the party.

After dinner, as usual, the dance began. The music started, and as expected, the favorite song of the tavern’s owner, a woman’s anthem, played.