Chapter 14 – The Last Thing

Zhou Daosen had experienced his fair share of romantic advances—love letters in middle school, confessions in high school, random WeChat adds in college. In the past, he’d politely decline with restraint, but later he lost patience and would bluntly throw out “I’m gay” to avoid trouble.

Yet he’d never been interested in men.

To be precise, he’d never been interested in anyone at all.

He was like the pine and cypress on a cold mountain, raised under strict discipline, listening to elders’ moral teachings since childhood. It was hard for him to stray.

Even as an adult, with the freedom to make his own choices, he never indulged in reckless hedonism. Most people saw wild indulgence as enjoyment and freedom, but not Zhou Daosen. To him, it was nothing but degradation—a lack of self-control, ambition, and purpose. It wasted the mind, drained energy, and consumed positivity. It was the executioner of a person’s ruin, yet people loved to dress it up as liberation and pleasure.

He had even once advised Lu Pingwei to rein himself in and straighten out his priorities. He still remembered Lu’s rebuttal: “Brother Zhou, you don’t get it. Some temptations are impossible to resist—they stand above reason.”

Zhou Daosen had mocked him at the time, saying he was just making excuses for his own moral decay. Even now, he held the same belief—that a person’s willpower should outweigh all worldly temptations. If someone believed a temptation was too great to resist, that it could shatter their reason and make them abandon everything, it only meant they lacked resolve.

Lu Pingwei had argued, “Brother Zhou, you’ve never tried it, so you don’t understand. The human body is beautiful—it’s a priceless work of art. It can fulfill your spiritual needs, pull you into ecstasy. Every kind of ecstasy feels different. I can’t describe it to you unless you experience it yourself.”

Even a smooth-talker like Lu Pingwei couldn’t put that “ecstasy” into words, and for a brief moment, Zhou Daosen had been curious. But he never acted on that curiosity—because Zhou Daosen was conservative.

In his view, emotional development had to begin with genuine affection—one that wasn’t tainted by baser desires, especially lust. That was too crude. It had to be admiration, a stirring of the heart. Any other justification was just using “affection” as an excuse for depravity—false, defiling, and meaningless.

Lu Pingwei often said he was missing out on life’s pleasures, but Zhou Daosen didn’t care. He believed he had missed nothing. He lived with discipline and conviction.

He wouldn’t stoop to Lu Pingwei’s “degenerate mindset,” nor would he seek love in nightclubs. Lust was vulgar and debased—the root of all corruption.

Zhou Daosen’s gaze sharpened abruptly. The figure in the lens matched Lu Pingwei’s description—a priceless work of art, one that blurred the lines of gender, simply a breathtakingly beautiful form. The curves were graceful, alluring. Tiny pearls on the long dress trembled faintly, as if someone had shot an arrow through the stars, shattering them.

They rained down in fragments, crashing into dark pupils, threatening to shatter reason itself.

“Need to know?” Zhou Daosen pressed the shutter. The room was so silent he could hear sounds beyond their conversation.

Yu Zhen held onto the back of the chair, maintaining her posture without moving, her smile radiant as if her gaze sought to meet the skepticism in the man’s eyes through the lens. “We’re neighbors. Distant water can’t quench a nearby fire. There might be many opportunities to help each other in the future. Isn’t it natural to know this?”

“Unnecessary,” Zhou Daosen refused again, no longer mincing words. “I’ve never liked troubling others, nor do I like being troubled by them.”

Yu Zhen continued to smile, unbothered by his bluntness, her voice gentle as water. “That’s not necessarily true. Who can guarantee there won’t be situations where we need help again? We’re both still young, and out in the world, it’s best not to speak so definitively.”

Zhou Daosen stopped shooting and adjusted the camera settings, almost outright telling her, I lied earlier—I know how to use a camera, but I don’t want to take your photo. As he skillfully adjusted the settings, he said mercilessly, “I lived in my last place for a long time and never once knocked on a neighbor’s door.”

The camera was easy to handle, obedient in Zhou Daosen’s hands.

“But you knocked on my door,” Yu Zhen straightened up, resting her palm on her ankle as she half-sat on the chair. “There are so many doors in the hallway, yet you didn’t knock on anyone else’s. That’s fate. We’re destined to be neighbors who help each other.”

There was a hint of moral coercion in her words.

Zhou Daosen lifted the camera, his gaze fixed on the graceful figure on the chair, refusing to take the bait. “I think what I did today is enough to repay the favor of a glass of water and a bottle of vinegar. You don’t need to know my name, just as I don’t need to know who you’re sending these photos to.”

Click.

Yu Zhen closed her eyes briefly.

He really didn’t want anything to do with her. Though Yu Zhen didn’t understand his temperament, she could tolerate rejection. She had merely asked for his name, yet it had drawn such clear boundaries, as if he had guessed her intentions and was guarding against her.

This was the first time she’d encountered someone who wanted to keep her at arm’s length.

Yu Zhen rubbed her ankle, lifting the hem of her skirt and letting it fall freely into irregular folds. She rested her head against the back of the chair and said, “You can ask me anything. I’ll answer.”

“I’m not interested.” Zhou Daosen raised the camera, their movements synchronized.

His words were cutting, but then again, they had no prior connection, and he had no intention of forming one. His decisive manner was a smart approach.

Yu Zhen didn’t rush to explain. She didn’t understand why he seemed to dislike her, but she wouldn’t blame herself for it. She preferred to think he had certain expectations she hadn’t met—that was his issue, not hers. She was just a stranger, and strangers didn’t need to live up to anyone’s standards.

Even if he had misunderstood her, Yu Zhen was content to let it persist. Explaining to a stranger felt too much like ingratiation. She could flatter clients who paid her, but she wouldn’t casually appease a stranger.

The photoshoot for the long dress she was wearing had concluded. Yu Zhen rose from the chair and walked toward Zhou Daosen in her high heels. He couldn’t wait to ask, “My task is done?”

Yu Zhen adjusted her shoulder strap and said, “I want to see the photos first.”

Zhou Daosen handed the camera back to the other party. Yu Zhen was about to take it, but the man placed it on a tripod instead, avoiding even that minimal physical contact. Yu Zhen paused for a moment, looking at the man, who took a step back—a movement laden with meaning. Yu Zhen curled his lips slightly and retrieved the camera from the tripod.

The camera was warm, still carrying the lingering heat from the man’s fingertips.

Yu Zhen checked the photos for clarity, angles, and his own expressions. Strangely enough, the man was skilled at capturing moments—better even than Chen Qinghuai’s shots. Each photo was polished enough to go straight into post-processing.

By the time Yu Zhen reached the fourth photo, Zhou Daosen asked, “Satisfied?”

He still held an attitude of repaying a favor.

He was eager to end this entanglement and had no intention of ever knocking on this door again.

Yu Zhen said, “Haven’t finished looking yet.”

Zhou Daosen stood behind Yu Zhen. The other man’s figure was slender, almost delicate compared to an average man’s build. His skin, unnaturally pale as if treated by medical means, stretched over a beautifully structured spine, where smooth, glossy black hair cascaded down, partially obscuring the sharp lines of his shoulder blades.

Zhou Daosen could crush that waist with one hand, tear apart his dress, and lay bare that mesmerizing sight without obstruction. He could do many things—but he did none of them. Just the thought alone made him scold himself for such depravity.

Yu Zhen had long finished reviewing all the photos but didn’t turn around. He wanted to glance back and see where the man’s gaze lingered—was it his most flattering feature? The curve of his spine was exquisite, and he didn’t mind sharing it.

But he didn’t turn, unwilling to meet the man’s indifferent gaze. Not because it would wound him, but because that icy hue in his eyes was far too exhilarating.

So Yu Zhen kept examining the photos, and for a long while, the man didn’t rush him again. Only when Yu Zhen finally called it did he turn around, meeting the man’s eyes as he praised, “You’re really good at this.”

Zhou Daosen was indifferent to compliments and simply replied, “Glad you’re satisfied.”

Then came the mood-killing follow-up: “Can I leave now?”

“Wait—” Yu Zhen immediately reached out to grip his arm, a slight motion that visibly displeased the other man. Zhou Daosen’s brows furrowed briefly, and Yu Zhen, catching it, quickly withdrew his hand. “One last thing.”

As if fearing refusal, Yu Zhen swiftly added with practiced grace, “Consider it a favor I’m asking of you. I can pay.”

He made it sound urgent.

Zhou Daosen scrutinized the sincerity in his eyes but didn’t outright refuse. Since he’d come this far, he might as well see it through. “No need. Get it.”

Yu Zhen seemed to glimpse a sliver of hope.

He thanked him, his smile brightening, then walked over to a nearby floor cabinet and began selecting something.

While he did, Zhou Daosen swept his gaze across the room—a hidden paradise, beautifully staged and perfect for photography. A clothing rack held numerous formal gowns, but no menswear in sight. It was like a heaven for a girl who loved dressing up.

The vanity was cluttered with shimmering trinkets—earrings, necklaces, hairpins—and a few hooks held long ribbons in various colors, their purpose left to the imagination.

The entire room was even more extravagant than Zhou Tanxi’s bedroom.

The closet was a dazzling array of skirts, each with its own distinct features—varying lengths and accentuating different parts of the body. Yu Zhen casually picked up a hair clip, twirled his hair around his fingers a couple of times, and pinned it up at the back of his head. He then meticulously began selecting his next outfit, occasionally glancing back at the man’s broad shoulders.

What an incredible physique.

He finally understood what had been bothering him about Qin Bei. Once you’ve seen something better, even the so-called “best” becomes just a compromise.

In all his years in the industry, he had never encountered another body that made him want to throw caution to the wind and indulge in pleasure. The fashion world was full of toned, muscular men, but when their hands slid over his waist or back, none of them could compare to the disdainful glance of this man before him.

Was Yu Zhen a masochist? He actually liked this man’s cold indifference.

So good.

Such a thrilling look, such utter disregard.

The man’s waist and abdomen looked powerful—like they knew exactly how to thrust, how to pound.

Yu Zhen had just touched his arm. In that brief moment, he felt as though he had traced the pulsing veins beneath the man’s skin, veins brimming with intimidating vitality. Each throb seemed to collide violently with the depraved recesses of his mind.

From an angle the man couldn’t see, a faint flicker of fire ignited in Yu Zhen’s eyes before dimming again. His fingers skimmed over the options before finally settling on a garment as sheer as a cicada’s wing.

It was the most revealing piece he had ever worn in his career—the one with the least fabric, the one that pushed boundaries the furthest. A lingerie set with only two silk ribbons at the lower back.

The ribbons tied around his waist, the fringe swaying at his thighs. No photographer could be present for this. It was something Yu Zhen had to do alone—shedding all dignity, abandoning all restraint, and flaunting himself shamelessly before the camera.

The outfit was so obscene—if someone were to walk in and force themselves on him, they could take him right then and there.

His gaze lingered on the man’s waist as his fingers flicked, and the garment fell into his palm. Yu Zhen closed his eyes, inhaling the faint fragrance clinging to the fabric. He wondered—should he lie down, or kneel?

Should he tease the front, or the back?