The atmosphere inside the car was intoxicating, thick with a lingering tension that seemed almost tangible.
Wen Moxue, however, felt like he was sitting on pins and needles. Actually, no.
He was sitting on a giant needle.
Every point of contact felt as if it were burning, so hot that even the tips of his ears flushed red.
Fu Cheng had promised not to touch him, yet there was no sign of retreat; if anything, his actions had become more brazen.
Unable to bear it any longer, Wen Moxue pleaded, "Brother... I am hungry."
As if to agree, his stomach growled audibly.
Fu Cheng pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, finally releasing him. He carried Wen Moxue to the passenger seat, rolled down the window, and instructed the driver, "Let's go."
The driver hurriedly got in. Fu Cheng asked Wen Moxue, "Shall we eat first, then I take you back?"
Relieved that he was being taken home rather than somewhere else, Wen Moxue obediently said, "I will follow your plan, Brother."
Fu Cheng stroked his hair, told the driver the restaurant's name, and they were on their way.
The restaurant was nearby, just a ten-minute drive. Wen Moxue was ravenous and ate heartily, probably surprising Fu Cheng with his appetite.
Fu Cheng, however, did not care. Once the prize was secured, there was no need to pretend with restraint.
By the time they finished, it was late. Fu Cheng drove him back to school, paused to kiss him again before getting out, and take a pink suitcase from the driver.
"This is a gift for you," Fu Cheng said, handing it over.
Wen Moxue stared at the suitcase in shock. "It is so big... what is it?"
He could not imagine any gift requiring a suitcase of that size. A fleeting, ridiculous thought even crossed his mind.
Did Fu Cheng intend to use it for his body?
"Open it when you get home. It is cold outside. Hurry back."
Wen Moxue felt elated and smiled brightly. "Okay, Brother. Good night."
"Good night."
Dragging the suitcase back to his residence, Wen Moxue immediately opened it. His eyes widened as he took in the contents.
Inside were all kinds of dresses, bags, shoes, cosmetics, and some snacks, stuffed into the suitcase so fully that even the small compartment in the lid held a delicate jewelry box.
He picked up the box and opened it.
Inside lay a magnificent, exquisite necklace, set with glittering diamonds that shimmered brilliantly under the bright lights of his home.
It reminded Wen Moxue of a new term he had recently learned online: fire brilliance.
He dared not imagine the price of such a necklace.
Moreover, the clothes, shoes, bags, and cosmetics were all high-end luxury brands. Just casually giving away a suitcase full of these items… Wen Moxue had to admit that his previous vow to drain every penny from Fu Cheng had been a bit overenthusiastic.
At best, it would only inflict minor damage.
Yet judging by how Fu Cheng disliked being manipulated, even minor harm might be enough to make him fume.
Thinking of Fu Cheng’s passionate expression earlier, Wen Moxue could not help but smile smugly.
Shuyan was right: men were visual creatures. Just one provocative photo from him had stirred Fu Cheng so thoroughly.
If he were more proactive in person, who knew what might happen?
Wen Moxue tidied up the items, closed the suitcase, and went to look in the mirror.
Today, the man had kissed him even more fiercely than last time. How long would the marks last?
To his surprise, his lips were only tinted red, without swelling or the fiery pain of the last encounter. Clearly, Fu Cheng’s kissing skills had improved.
Wen Moxue suspected that during his trip abroad, Fu Cheng might have practiced with a foreign girl.
The thought made him feel slightly unclean, and he wiped his lips several times with the back of his hand.
That despicable man… a wretched creature.
When Fu Cheng invited him out the next day, Wen Moxue refused, using work as an excuse.
In truth, his schedule was flexible; being a part-time job, and known as Fu Cheng’s person, nobody would dare trouble him. He could have gone if he wanted.
It was merely an excuse to deny Fu Cheng.
After morning classes, Wen Moxue applied his makeup and went to the tea house for work. He changed into a long-sleeved qipao he had not worn before.
While the high-slit qipao looked proper on others, on him it became purely seductive. His long legs and curvaceous figure transformed the normal slit into an extreme one.
He intended to change it, but a knock on the door interrupted him. Someone said Fu Cheng had arrived, urging him to prepare for reception.
Fu Cheng? On a weekday? How did he have the time?
Wen Moxue lowered his hand from the buttons. Since he was serving Fu Cheng, there was no need to change. It was a public space, and he could not do anything reckless.
A small tease would not hurt.
He stepped out of the changing room and saw Chen Jiajia, who typically wore her own qipao but today was heading to the changing room in a tea-house custom design.
"Good afternoon, Jiajia," Wen Moxue greeted, "Did you not rest last night?"
Chen Jiajia’s eyelids bore dark circles that even makeup could not hide, her eyes weary and dull.
"You noticed," she yawned, "We partied until dawn, only slept two or three hours. You were not there, or I would have introduced some handsome guys for you to enjoy."
Wen Moxue smiled faintly, retrieving a small glass bottle from his bag.
"Jiajia, rub some of this essential oil on your temples to refresh yourself. It has no scent."
The tea house prohibited perfumes, insisting on colorless, scentless products.
Chen Jiajia accepted it graciously. "Thanks, I will return it after use."
"No need. It is not valuable. Keep it; I have more."
"Good. Now go work," Chen Jiajia winked playfully. "I just heard Mr. Fu has arrived."
Wen Moxue felt his ears flush.
Though tea house rules forbade intimacy between staff and guests, one was a major patron, the other the tea house’s signature; even the manager dared not interfere. All were tacitly aware.
Carrying a tray, Wen Moxue entered Fu Cheng’s private room, which seemed exclusively reserved for him, never open otherwise.
"Brother, you are not working today?"
"Just returned from a trip. Taking a day off."
Fu Cheng’s gaze landed on his high-slit qipao. He squinted. "Is this your uniform?"
"Yes," Wen Moxue spun deliberately. "Do you like it, Brother?"
Fu Cheng did not answer, but as she twirled, he nearly glimpsed the soft curves of her backside.
How could someone have such a perfect shape, as if sculpted?
He shook off the thought and said sternly, "The slit is too high. Have them remake a proper one. This is unacceptable."
"Too high? No, it is fine. Low slits look tacky, and everyone wears them like this. It is perfect. You are so old-fashioned, like a relic from the Qing Dynasty."
Fu Cheng fell silent.
Seeing him speechless, Wen Moxue smirked. Humph, old man, today is your day.
He settled onto the tea master’s chair, brewing water and cleaning the teaware while saying, "By the way, Brother, I will resign after mid-December to prepare for my finals."
In truth, it was a pretext to plan his escape.
"Hmm," Fu Cheng’s previously stiff expression softened slightly upon hearing about the resignation. "Studies are important."
Wen Moxue tapped a piece of pu-erh tea into a brewing bowl, smiling, "I will get first place and make you proud, Brother."
Fu Cheng’s lips twitched slightly. "Good."
He then pulled a wallet from his pocket and took out a bank card, pushing it across the table. "Use this whenever you need money."
Wen Moxue froze. Their relationship had already reached the stage of handing over a bank card?
He hesitantly asked, "This is not your salary card, is it?"
"Supplementary card."
"Then… is there a limit? How much can I spend at once? If I accidentally spend it all, you won’t mind, right?"
"No limit. Spend freely," Fu Cheng tapped his knuckles on the yellow rosewood table. "If you can spend it all, it will be your own achievement."
Wen Moxue: "……"
Damn it. Rich people showing off… so infuriating.
After some thought, he pushed the card back.
"No need, Brother. You have already given me so much, bought me so many gifts. Taking your bank card would make me… what in other people’s eyes?"
It was not that Wen Moxue did not want money. The problem was that using Fu Cheng’s card to escape would trigger notifications instantly. Fu Cheng would probably arrive within ten minutes. It was impossible.
He could not withdraw a few million in cash while still planning his escape; that would make his intentions obvious, and Fu Cheng would almost certainly call the police.
"Keep it. No one will dare stop you."
"No. I want to maintain equality with Brother. I don’t want to become someone who relies entirely on you."
"You are not someone who relies on me. You are my partner," Fu Cheng said seriously. "Supporting your partner is only natural."
Wen Moxue’s eyes flickered at the word partner.
"But I have to overcome the mental barrier myself," he said, returning the bank card to Fu Cheng. "Don’t worry, Brother. I will tell you if I encounter any difficulties."
He teasingly tapped the tip of the card against Fu Cheng’s palm, deliberately provoking.
Fu Cheng furrowed his brow slightly, clearly displeased with the refusal. Wen Moxue straightened, leaned over the table, and planted a kiss at the corner of his lips.
Just as he was about to pull back, Fu Cheng grabbed the back of his head.
Across the table, Fu Cheng deepened the kiss.
Wen Moxue gasped, half of his body suspended above the chair. With tea on the table and panic surging, he could only hold onto Fu Cheng’s shoulders, still trying to be proactive.
He wrapped his arms around Fu Cheng’s neck and opened his mouth, allowing Fu Cheng’s tongue to enter.
The act clearly pleased him. Fu Cheng’s kiss was deep and fierce. Only the sounds of their breaths and the faint wetness of the kiss filled the tea room.
Under the man’s overwhelming dominance, Wen Moxue’s eyes blurred, body burning, and he could not help a soft, helpless moan escaping his throat. Fu Cheng’s grip on the back of his neck tightened in response.
Wen Moxue felt as if he might be consumed, and hurriedly pushed at Fu Cheng’s shoulders.
"What is it?" Fu Cheng asked, slightly loosening the kiss.
It was then that Wen Moxue realized he had somehow been lifted onto the yellow rosewood table, with Fu Cheng standing in front of him.
The man’s frame towered over him, forehead pressing lightly against his, looking down with a suffocating intensity.
Wen Moxue instinctively licked his wet lips, voice soft like a kitten: "You are too forceful. I can’t take it."
Fu Cheng’s breath faltered at the motion, suppressing the urge to kiss him again. "Am I too forceful?"
Wen Moxue inhaled small, quick breaths, tilting his mouth slightly. "Certainly!"
Fu Cheng’s gaze drifted to the leg exposed by the slit, voice low: "Then wearing this, and sending me those photos while I was abroad… were you trying to tempt me into breaking my rules?"
"…I wasn’t."
Wen Moxue fidgeted with the insufficient fabric at the hem, attempting to cover his thighs under the man’s aggressive gaze.
But the material was too little, and his seated position left one side covered while the other was revealed. Fu Cheng’s eyes darkened, as if a ravenous beast were about to leap from the depths of his gaze.
Wen Moxue trembled under that stare, attempting weakly: "We are a legitimate tea house. Harassing a tea master would get you blacklisted."
Fu Cheng, seeing that he finally showed fear, did not relent.
He needed to give a lesson; otherwise, Wen Moxue would not understand how terrifying a man could be.
"Then let it try to blacklist me."
With that, Fu Cheng’s hand traced the slit of the qipao, and before Wen Moxue could react, he reached inside forcefully.