Chapter 25.1

Ivan was a practical man. He picked a quiet yet tasteful bed-and-breakfast, one that didn’t seem too out of place. The innkeeper gave them a knowing look before saying, “Twenty-five pounds per person. We offer a continental breakfast, or for an extra two pounds, you can have an English breakfast.”

Ivan tossed an extra five pounds onto the counter. The innkeeper took the money, grabbed the key, and handed it to him.

Mo Zimu kept his head down and quickly went upstairs.

Once inside the room, Ivan frowned and asked, “That innkeeper said they serve English breakfast. Are they seriously claiming English breakfast is better than the rest of continental Europe’s?”

Mo Zimu smiled as he removed his veil. “English breakfast has fried eggs and bacon, while continental breakfast usually just consists of a few dry slices of bread and milk.”

Ivan scoffed. “The British diet only has this delusion of grandeur left.”

Mo Zimu casually pulled his dress down as they chatted. Suddenly, he felt something was off. He looked up and saw Ivan leaning against the wall, smiling at him.

His first reaction was a rush of heat to his face, but he knew better than to engage with this lecherous wolf. He turned his back to continue taking off the dress. However, before he could get halfway through, Ivan embraced him, gently kissing his neck and whispering in his ear, “Seven…”

Mo Zimu wasn’t sure if it was the heating in the room or the warmth radiating from the man behind him, but a sudden flush of heat spread through his body. He waited in silence, expecting the thug to say something like, Let’s fuck.

But instead, Ivan whispered against his back, “Seven, I like you.”

Mo Zimu had always regarded Ivan with a touch of cold amusement. Sometimes it was because he could see right through the dirty thoughts swirling in Ivan’s mind. Other times, it was because he was keenly aware of the calculations behind his cunning schemes. And then there were moments when it was simply because of the man’s crude and violent ways. This constant resistance had always kept them moving in different directions.

Yet in that moment, his mind was a mess, as if he were falling, tumbling straight into some inevitable entanglement with Ivan.

Mo Zimu had never lacked admirers, but unfortunately, none of them had ever told him they liked him. Their so-called affection always carried an air of conquest and possession. He had never known the pleasure of being truly liked.

Ivan’s lips trailed along his back. Mo Zimu suddenly turned his head, and with a near-desperate sense of surrender, kissed him back.

Ivan seemed caught off guard, staring at him in slight daze. Mo Zimu licked his lips and said coolly, “Are you going to do it or not?

Ivan chuckled and bent down, suddenly lifting Mo Zimu and pushing him onto the bed. Leaning down, he said, “Seven, you like me, don’t you?”

Mo Zimu refused to answer, but he wrapped his legs around Ivan’s waist, completely igniting the man’s desire. They tumbled together in heated passion.

Just as things were getting intense, Ivan abruptly got up. He lifted the curtain slightly and peered outside. Mo Zimu immediately lowered his voice and asked, “What’s going on?”

Ivan grinned. “Young Master Geoffrey sure is persistent. Looks like his dogs have arrived.”

“Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

Mo Zimu sprang up at once, pulling on his sweater and jeans. Ivan carefully pushed open the window, braced himself, and gave Mo Zimu a boost.

Mo Zimu climbed onto the window and carefully leaped onto the small balcony outside. Ivan put on his suit, grabbed something, opened the door, and threw the item outside.

The moment the object hit the ground, thick smoke billowed up. The sound of people tumbling down the stairs followed immediately after.

Ivan pushed himself up onto the small balcony, then jumped down to the courtyard below. Mo Zimu lowered his voice and asked, “Did you kill them?”

Ivan raised an eyebrow and said, “I was planning to, but I just gave them a little tear gas instead…”

Mo Zimu turned his head, just as Ivan lazily added, “Honestly, I’m not particularly fond of killing. If that bothers you, you can just say so.”

Mo Zimu scoffed coldly. “What does your love or hate for killing have to do with me?”

Ivan pushed open the door, swiftly knocking out the two bodyguards who rushed at him. Then, in an almost courteous tone, he said, “My sincerest apologies for the fall.” Turning back with a smirk, he asked Mo Zimu, “Was that gentlemanly enough?”

By then, Geoffrey’s private mercenaries had entered the building. From the balcony, one of them shouted, “They’re downstairs!” In an instant, four or five more black-clad guards sprinted toward them from a distance.

Mo Zimu wanted to retreat and run, but Ivan held him back and calmly said, “Hey, hey, we haven’t finished apologizing yet. Don’t you think that’s a bit rude?”

Grinding his teeth, Mo Zimu forced out a stiff apology toward the unconscious bodyguards. “Sorry…”

Only then did Ivan let go, and the two of them took off. Mo Zimu, being intimately familiar with London’s streets, led the way, while Ivan’s agility ensured that Geoffrey’s men didn’t stand a chance. Anyone who got too close was taken down in an instant. After an intense chase, they finally lost the never-ending stream of black-suited guards.

“Where to now?” Ivan asked, slightly out of breath but grinning. “The opera house? A fine-dining restaurant?”

Mo Zimu shot him an annoyed look and said, “We’re going somewhere else.”

He led Ivan through the streets, finally turning onto a road lined with red lanterns. Many storefronts displayed festive banners and couplets at their entrances. Ivan chuckled. “You brought me to Chinatown?”

Mo Zimu said nothing. He made a few more turns, entered a narrow alley, and climbed the stairs of a slightly run-down apartment building. After searching under the doormat, he retrieved a key and unlocked the door.

It was a small one-bedroom apartment, though every available surface was cluttered with souvenirs and trinkets from around the world – Loch Ness monster figurines, Venetian carnival masks. If not for the thick layer of dust, the place would have looked lively and full of memories.

“This is…” Ivan glanced around before realization dawned. “This was your old home.”

Mo Zimu touched a hanging ornament by the door and said, “My mother and I rented this place for years. After she died in a car accident, I used the compensation money to buy it.”

Ivan was silent for a moment before he finally said, “Then Geoffrey must be very familiar with this place.”

Mo Zimu said flatly, “That man is just overly confident. He’d never expect that after all his relentless chasing, I’d actually dare to come back here.”

“Geoffrey’s really unlucky,” Ivan smiled slightly. “He seems to care a lot about you, but you seem to really dislike him.”

“I don’t hate him,” Mo Zimu murmured, his gaze fixed on a small figurine. “I just don’t want to see him.”

Ivan smiled slightly. He realized Geoffrey must have made an irreversible mistake, one that left no room for redemption. Wisely, he didn’t press for details. But he was rather pleased, because a formidable rival had essentially been taken down without a fight.

Though the lights were off, the moonlight in foggy London that night was unusually bright. Taking advantage of the silver glow, Ivan carefully examined the apartment.

The bedroom had been deliberately divided into two sections. The larger space was covered wall-to-ceiling with sheet music, even extending to the ceiling itself. On the wall, an oak-framed photograph displayed a mother and child nestled closely together.

Ivan glanced over at Mo Zimu, who was lost in thought, sitting in the living room. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit it, carefully inspecting the photographs. The mother’s expression was faint, her eyes half-open as if sleepy, yet still quite alluring. She was an undeniably attractive woman. The boy beside her wore a soft smile, his hand tightly clasping his mother’s.

Those frames told Ivan far more than Mo Zimu had ever revealed. He turned his gaze to Mo Zimu, who seemed deep in thought.

Ivan quietly walked over. Mo Zimu was sitting on the worn-out sofa, holding a small clown figurine in his hands, staring blankly ahead. The apartment had no heating, making the space feel especially cold. Without a word, Ivan grabbed a vibrantly colored Gypsy shawl and draped it over Mo Zimu’s knees.

The slight movement startled Mo Zimu, and he turned his head away, seemingly embarrassed. Ivan chuckled, “Are you crying again?”

There was no response. So, Ivan continued in his usual mocking tone, “You really are a fool, crying over a selfish woman. Was it worth it?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Mo Zimu snapped, a flicker of anger in his voice.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ivan said casually. “She was a woman who lived entirely by her own desires, trapped in her own little world. Time passed, but she never grew. Even motherhood couldn’t change her. She rejected every sacrifice made for her, indulging in the love her child gave her, only to turn her back and run when reality became too much. In the end, she left the one person who truly loved her, lost and alone… A woman like that, even if you gave her to me, I wouldn’t—”

“You have no right to judge someone you don’t even know! What do you understand about her?!” Mo Zimu roared, fists flying. He didn’t hold back, punching and kicking with all his strength. Even someone as skilled as Ivan couldn’t avoid taking the beating head-on, ending up bruised and bloodied.

“…Why aren’t you fighting back?” Mo Zimu asked between heavy breaths.

Ivan grinned, but the movement tugged at his split lip, making him hiss in pain. “Because you can’t hit her. So you might as well take it out on me.”

Mo Zimu lowered his head slightly, his voice hoarse. “Why do you do this? You know I don’t like you. Honestly, I don’t think I ever could…”

“Oh?” Ivan dragged out the syllable with a smirk. “That’s unfortunate. Because I like you.”

A single tear slid down Mo Zimu’s face. Ivan reached out, pulling him into his arms, feeling him tremble as quiet sobs escaped.

In that moment, Ivan swore to himself. I’ll make you love me in this lifetime, and you’ll never escape.

His earlier confession had been sincere. And so was this vow. He was a practical man. When he wanted something, he took it.

Mo Zimu was a very proud person, and he didn’t want anyone to see his vulnerable side. But Ivan was more than willing to indulge that fragility, knowing that only this side of Mo Zimu could be conquered and controlled.

He wrapped his arms around Mo Zimu’s waist and kissed his skin, which carried a scent different from Europeans, faint and fresh, soothing to the senses. Mo Zimu’s youthful body was soft, and Ivan smiled, holding him even tighter.

Mo Zimu, unaware that he was falling into a trap, simply curled into the warmth. Exhaustion took over, and he drifted into sleep against Ivan’s chest.

That drowsiness was contagious. The weight of Mo Zimu in his arms gave Ivan an unfamiliar sense of contentment. With his chin resting lightly against the top of Mo Zimu’s head and his back leaning against the wall, Ivan too, slowly closed his eyes.

A rustling sound came from outside the door, and Ivan suddenly opened his eyes. “Someone’s here!”

Mo Zimu frowned. The two of them carefully moved to the window and peered outside. Police cars and a fleet of black vehicles had completely surrounded the building.

“We’re surrounded!” Ivan frowned.

“It’s Geoffrey…” Mo Zimu muttered softly.

“Looks like we’ll have to fight our way out.” Ivan said calmly. “I’ll draw their attention. You find a chance to escape.”

Mo Zimu lowered his head and replied, “I know there’s a way from the top floor to another building. Let’s go together!”

Ivan didn’t argue. He grabbed Mo Zimu’s hand, picked up the shawl from the sofa and flung it out the door. The men outside had been strictly ordered not to fire recklessly, so when the unidentified object came flying at them, they instinctively stepped back.