Chapter 16 – Delicate and Soft

The words of affection he spoke didn’t seem to carry the same meaning Zhou Daosen understood.

Regardless of whether it was a legitimate profession or not, taking pictures in this state and sending them to others was hardly something to boast about.

Clearly, the man on the bed knew exactly how to pose seductively—the curve of his arm, the deliberate placement of his legs, the expression that invited domination, the tender gaze in his eyes, the bitten lip—every movement was designed to shatter a rational person’s self-control.

Zhou Daosen considered himself a man of principle, yet even he was wavering. What did that say about others? What skillful manipulation—truly extraordinary.

Zhou Daosen stood in silent contemplation, the shutter of his camera unmoving as he fixed his gaze on the figure sprawled across the bed.

Yu Zhen had already noticed the shift in the atmosphere but pretended otherwise, feigning innocence. “What’s wrong?”

Zhou Daosen’s fingers tightened around the camera as his eyes flickered to the beaded chain pressed beneath a slender waist, its blue gemstones glinting against that provocative curve.

Yu Zhen followed his gaze downward, then lifted the chain from beneath his waist. “Where would you like me to put it?”

If Zhou Daosen gave an answer, Yu Zhen would dare to comply.

He seemed utterly fearless.

It wasn’t as if no one had ever thrown themselves at Zhou Daosen before—there had been plenty of bold individuals—but none had been as brazen as this man, none as beautiful, none with such a captivating figure.

The beaded chain rested in Yu Zhen’s palm, warm from his touch. When Zhou Daosen made no move, Yu Zhen sat up and suggested, “Why don’t you put it on me yourself?”

What exactly was his intention?

Was it just professional instinct? Could he really flirt so shamelessly with a complete stranger? Zhou Daosen couldn’t understand how someone with such a beautiful face could have so little restraint.

He had to admit, this temptress had skill—and he had made his own reaction blatantly obvious. But today, he would make sure Yu Zhen understood that playing games with Zhou Daosen was pointless. Whatever his goal might be, Zhou Daosen never danced to another’s tune.

Taking the chain into his hand, his fingertips brushed against Yu Zhen’s warm palm. The other man’s fingers curled slightly, as if trying to hold onto that scorching heat.

Then, before Yu Zhen could react, an unyielding force pressed down. His shoulder bore the weight as he was pushed back onto the bed, Zhou Daosen placing the chain across his thighs.

“Ah,” Yu Zhen instinctively lifted his leg. “Here?”

Zhou Daosen’s piercing gaze locked onto him, but Yu Zhen’s nerves of steel didn’t falter. Not an ounce of shame showed as he stroked his own thigh coyly. “It’s too cold.”

Zhou Daosen’s voice was flat. “You’re afraid of the cold?”

If he wasn’t afraid of a stranger like him, what else could possibly scare him?

Yu Zhen braced his hands against the bed, staring at the chain now resting near his inner thigh, and whined theatrically, “Of course I am. I’m delicate and soft—nothing like you strong types.”

Then, lifting his eyes, he added with shameless admiration, “You have such a great body.”

Zhou Daosen stared deep into those eyes, as if trying to see straight into his heart. Yu Zhen’s gaze shimmered with appreciation and envy, but Zhou Daosen couldn’t fathom why he was buttering him up.

“Delicate and soft” might be debatable, but in terms of physique, the man was undeniably slender—Zhou Daosen could tear him apart effortlessly. Yet his thighs had a plush softness, making the chain slip down toward the crease of his legs.

“You seem to enjoy squirming,” Zhou Daosen pressed down on his knee, gripping it with deliberate force. “Can’t stay still, can you?”

Yu Zhen felt a scorching heat coursing through his body just from having his knees gripped like this. Gazing at the man’s hand with a dazed expression, he repeated, “It really is cold.”

Even the coldest object would warm up after such repeated use—this statement was clearly dishonest, but Zhou Daosen didn’t bother calling him out on it.

He pressed Yu Zhen’s legs down and picked up the camera. Seeing the lens pointed at him, Yu Zhen focused again, no longer distracted. As the lens trailed down from his face, Zhou Daosen suddenly asked, “Who are these for?”

Yu Zhen lifted his eyes. “Hmm?”

Zhou Daosen clarified, “Who are the photos for?”

He needed to know the audience—the consumer demographic—to determine which areas to emphasize.

Yu Zhen replied, “My patron, of course. Just shoot freely. There’ll be post-processing anyway.”

The sheer chiffon fabric revealed glimpses of skin, and a small damp patch on his chest reminded Zhou Daosen of something again—a body that naturally dripped with desire, inherently seductive.

So-called photography was often about veiling and unveiling. The relationship between photographer and model was delicate. When shooting risqué photos, it wasn’t improper for the photographer to be physically aroused by the model—just as actors in intimate scenes, despite knowing it’s just acting, couldn’t always suppress their physiological reactions. It was instinct, unrelated to reason.

So Zhou Daosen didn’t bother hiding it, letting Yu Zhen see, letting himself be drawn in. He was a man; it was natural to react to stimulation. And this neighbor of his was even more enticing than any film—how could he be blamed?

Yu Zhen’s eyes wandered over the other man’s waist, his imagination running wild. He was proud to have provoked such a reaction yet dissatisfied at not being able to claim it. It was rare for him to act so indecently, flirting with a stranger, but he was utterly captivated by that physique—every inch of it hitting his sensitive spots, luring him into a frenzy in his mind.

“You don’t have a girlfriend?” Yu Zhen asked. He knew the other man disliked him, but he couldn’t care less.

Zhou Daosen just wanted to finish the job quickly, leave this room, and never see him again. But he realized that would be too weak—he needed Yu Zhen to know he wasn’t so easy, nor someone to be trifled with.

“Is that a problem?” Zhou Daosen said bluntly. He was usually polite, but with those he deemed beneath him, he spared no harshness.

Yu Zhen replied, “Just asking. No ill intent.”

Zhou Daosen’s tone, though measured, carried an unbreakable distance: “Don’t be curious about me.”

Yu Zhen fell silent. He lay back, resting his head on his arm, surrendering himself completely. No matter the angle, he was willing to share himself, to cooperate.

Profession and desire had blurred together.

Zhou Daosen zoomed in.

The clothes were just decoration—the real beauty was the body. He intended to focus on that slender waist, but the beaded chain accidentally slipped into the frame, and suddenly the lens was filled with the creamy expanse of inner thighs. He was no longer surprised by any indecent attire his neighbor wore, but that skimpy thong was eye-catching—its color unbearably provocative.

The beaded chain had long since slipped deeper from Yu Zhen’s restless movements—it wasn’t draped over his legs anymore but wedged between them.

The fabric on Yu Zhen’s body had already loosened, and as he twisted like a pretzel, the ties came undone. He suddenly sat up. Zhou Daosen lowered the camera and looked over.

Yu Zhen pressed a hand to his chest, holding up the silk ribbon with an innocent expression. “Hmm, it fell off.”

Zhou Daosen knew the shoot was coming to an end. He tossed the camera onto the bed as if discarding something filthy and turned away. Yu Zhen thought he was about to leave and was just about to speak when he saw the man stop and stand nearby. Relieved, Yu Zhen picked up the ribbon and looped it behind his neck, starting to retie it.

But his hands seemed to lack strength, and after struggling for a while, he still couldn’t manage it. Yu Zhen moved slowly, making no progress, yet the other man showed no impatience. Yu Zhen realized this man had remarkable patience—the kind who wouldn’t get annoyed no matter how long his girlfriend took to put on makeup.

His arms grew tired.

Yu Zhen’s eyes flickered, and he looked up, feigning helplessness. “Could you help me?” he asked.

Zhou Daosen glanced at him.

The man sitting on the bed was dazzlingly beautiful.

Yu Zhen added, “It’s too short. I can’t tie it.”

Zhou Daosen stepped forward, and Yu Zhen slid off the bed, standing straight and turning his back to the other man. The lines of his spine were smooth, his waist slender and soft—qualities one could sense without even touching. As Zhou Daosen approached, he caught a whiff of that unusual fragrance. Taking the ribbon from Yu Zhen’s hands, his gaze involuntarily drifted downward.

The scent seemed to come from his hair, but it was a wig. It must have seeped from the pores of this body, permeating the room and Zhou Daosen’s senses.

Was it really impossible to tie? How had Yu Zhen managed when changing earlier? Zhou Daosen didn’t call him out. They were both playing their roles flawlessly.

Once the ribbon was tied, Yu Zhen touched it lightly and turned to offer a grateful smile. Barefoot, he walked to the side, picked up a plush toy from the shelf, and returned to the bed. “Let’s switch to this,” he said.

Zhou Daosen didn’t care. Zhou Daosen was indifferent.

Yu Zhen sat on the bed, one leg folded beneath him, the other dangling over the edge. “Shoot from below,” he instructed.

Zhou Daosen picked up the camera again, adjusted the distance, and crouched down.

Yu Zhen stretched his toes toward the lens. Zhou Daosen looked up at him, and Yu Zhen grinned. “Take a picture of my feet. They’re quite pretty too, don’t you think?”

As he spoke, his toes curled. The man hugged the plush toy, entering the frame. Zhou Daosen had never quite understood the internet’s obsession with the “pure yet seductive” aesthetic, but now he got it. The plush toy feigned innocence, the lingerie showcased his figure—utterly pristine yet undeniably erotic, a blend that defied definition.

For the next pose, Yu Zhen drew his foot back, propping it on the edge of the bed, toes flexed. He faced the camera, the fringe of his outfit revealing glimpses of skin.

Zhou Daosen frowned. “Like this?”

Yu Zhen pretended not to understand. “Is something wrong?”

Zhou Daosen said nothing more.

He raised the camera again, his gaze darkening. He knew—this man had seen through his preferences.

Yu Zhen noticed the growing bulge. His hunch had been right. The tough guy had a foot fetish.

That part couldn’t lie.

Yu Zhen gripped his own ankle, stroking his toes, his long legs shifting between folding and stretching toward the lens. But if he was the one teasing, why was he the one sweating so profusely?

The sheets were damp.

His chest was damp.

Yu Zhen bit his lip, his arms weak. He wanted to be held, to be wrapped in those muscular arms, to be cradled by those veined hands. He wanted to burn.

His muddled mind burned through his nerves, his toes suddenly brushing against the other’s hand. Yu Zhen’s alarm bells rang violently, his senses snapping back in an instant as he reflexively kicked out. The man was already glaring at him with displeasure.

Yu Zhen’s tongue felt scorched, his voice thick with embarrassment. “Sorry…”

Zhou Daosen stood up.

Yu Zhen didn’t understand, watching as the man tossed the camera aside. The air had long grown unbearably heated, the night spiraling into absurdity. Zhou Daosen suddenly couldn’t fathom why he had been so patient.

Yu Zhen hurriedly said, “I really didn’t mean to.”

Zhou Daosen’s gaze was like an unfathomable black hole.

He had never been the gentle type.

In the fighting ring, his fists struck flesh with brutal precision. If he wasn’t satisfied, he’d go all out to destroy his opponent—a reckless, life-for-life madness that sent chills down countless adversaries’ spines. Many had fallen before him.

But now, Zhou Daosen felt like the one teetering on the edge.

The damp fabric clung as if soaked through, the sheets suffering the same fate. Lips, redder than smeared lip gloss, hid within, dripping with moisture, shamelessly displaying their hunger.

Lush yet flustered, fragile yet brazen.

The female mantis had already devoured half the male’s head, yet still feigned innocence, putting on a pitiful act of wounded helplessness.