Chapter 104#
Ji Yang was literally packed up in his pajamas and carried straight back to Boman.
Here at the private underground parking lot, Ji Yang sat in the passenger seat, side-eyeing the man beside him. “You really don’t want your son anymore?”
“Rather than letting you agonize over custody rights,” Nie Xu unbuckled his seatbelt, turned sideways, “I’d prefer to establish a stable, harmonious relationship between the caregivers. The problem then naturally ceases to exist.”
Ji Yang knew he was injured. His gaze dropped down. He asked deliberately, “What kind of harmony?”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Nie Xu simply scooped him up. His brain hadn’t even caught up before he was lifted and swung over the center console, settling directly onto his lap.
Even in a car with this much space.
Two adult men sitting in a car in this posture still made the space feel cramped.
Ji Yang sat at a higher angle, his head nearly brushing the roof. He braced his hands on Nie Xu’s shoulders and glared at him. “You’re asking for it, aren’t you?”
Nie Xu’s hand slid quietly up from the hem of his clothes onto his spine. “Provoking me?”
Nie Xu’s hand ran hot — warmer than Ji Yang’s own body temperature even in this month. Ji Yang’s originally stiff body softened bit by bit from the touch.
His mind turned, and he simply let himself lean in, pressing close to Nie Xu’s ear as he said: “Yeah, so what if I’m provoking you? Didn’t you say it yourself — I have full authority over you. Doesn’t count?”
Nie Xu’s hand came to rest on the side of his waist. The thin callus on the web between his thumb and forefinger grazed his delicate skin, almost imperceptibly. His expression was relaxed and easy. “It counts, of course.”
Watching that look on his face, a retaliatory urge rose in Ji Yang.
“Everything goes my way?”
Nie Xu nodded. “Everything your way.”
Ji Yang smiled. “Good. Then you’re not allowed to move.” He bared his teeth. “Whoever moves is a son of a bitch.”
As he said this, Ji Yang’s hand reached down and unfastened the belt at Nie Xu’s waist. The click of the buckle releasing rang clearly in the enclosed space. Ji Yang drew it out unhurriedly, rose, swung his leg over, and sat directly facing Nie Xu. He gathered both of Nie Xu’s hands together and wound the belt around them, loop after loop.
As he did this, Ji Yang kept glancing at Nie Xu’s eyes.
This man was far too cooperative — no surprise, no resistance — as though he were just watching him play.
Ji Yang was genuinely provoked by this reaction. He fastened the belt haphazardly, pulled both of Nie Xu’s hands above his head, leaned down until the tip of his nose almost — almost — grazed Nie Xu’s. He rubbed up and down lightly, then slowly trailed lower, sweeping past his lips, his chin, his Adam’s apple.
The instant his tongue licked over the Adam’s apple, the involuntary bob up and down and the momentary catch in his breathing pleased Ji Yang immensely.
Who would have expected Nie Xu to tilt his head toward him and murmur, low: “That’s all?”
That’s all??
Ji Yang thought to himself, of course not.
The seat was reclined. Ji Yang’s entire body slid down, inch by inch.
He was a novice at this kind of thing, but that couldn’t stop him from being a smart and eager student — and from being absolutely determined to seize the initiative and the upper hand at this very moment. His hands shifted from pinning Nie Xu’s hands down to pressing his waist, his eyes commanding him not to move as he took full control of the rhythm.
For the first time, Ji Yang understood that when you truly liked someone, you never tired of wanting to see their reaction.
The unintentional disruption in breathing rhythm. The sudden tensing of the muscles along his abdomen. Those darkening eyes fixed so intently on him.
The smaller the detail he discovered, the greater the sense of accomplishment.
The subtle, ambiguous sounds in the confined space were magnified infinitely.
Ji Yang knelt on one knee on the car’s floor mat. He started slowly, so the time stretched out even longer — a test of endurance for someone with his stamina.
The moment his phone vibrated abruptly, he actually felt a wave of relief. He wanted to brush it off and wrap things up.
But just as he made the first move to stop, Nie Xu’s hand — which at some point had slipped free of the belt — pressed him back down. Fingers threaded into his hair, blocking him.
Ji Yang looked up, about to curse him for breaking their agreement, when Nie Xu reached over and picked up Ji Yang’s vibrating phone.
He swiped to answer with the most casual ease.
“Hello.”
At the same time, he lowered his gaze and looked at him, silently mouthing two words: Open up.
The word “pervert” that Ji Yang had in his mouth never got the chance to come out. Instead, he heard Nie Xu say into the phone: “He doesn’t have time.”
Ji Yang could feel the pressure of Nie Xu’s fingers massaging his hair roots — sometimes light, sometimes slow — and yet also precisely timed to give him room to breathe at the exact moment he couldn’t bear it anymore. Ji Yang was being tormented thoroughly. Nie Xu’s tone, meanwhile, came off as completely nonchalant. By the end, he even let out a short scoff. “Chips at the table? Pity he’s no longer the fourth young master of the Ji family — he’s mine, Nie Xu’s. If he really has something worth betting, tell him to come to me directly.”
Ji Yang wanted to ask who it was, but the physiologically forced tears had already moistened his lashes first. In the end, Ji Yang simply went hard on himself. The moment he did, he felt the breath above his head suddenly deepen.
The call ended right after.
“Enough.” Nie Xu’s voice came out hoarse, and he yanked him up.
Ji Yang, caught off guard, found himself pressed against his chest again. He ran his tongue over the sore, stinging corner of his mouth and let out a breathless laugh. “What for? You’re the one who broke our agreement first.”
“Done playing?” Nie Xu’s thumb pressed gently against his reddened lips. He wrapped an arm around his waist and, with a single flip, swapped their positions. “Now it’s my turn.”
Ji Yang landed in the seat. Before he could even get up, Nie Xu had drawn out the very belt Ji Yang had used earlier. Compared to Ji Yang’s clumsy attempt, Nie Xu wound it around twice with effortless ease, and Ji Yang immediately felt his hands locked tight, completely unable to break free.
“Let me go.” Ji Yang struggled, lowering his voice. “We never agreed to swap.”
Nie Xu, looking down at him from above, shrouded him between the seat and his own chest, and nodded. “It’s not a swap. It’s lesson time.”
Ji Yang’s hands were hoisted up and tied above his head. Unable to move his hands, he kicked with his feet instead — kicking and kicking while saying: “Don’t need it.”
He didn’t actually kick hard. He kept remembering that Nie Xu was still injured, which meant his resistance was like a trapped prey struggling in a snare — exhausting all his own energy while accomplishing nothing beyond being subdued with ease.
His pajamas had long since come loose, the collar askew, revealing a broad expanse of collarbone and shoulder.
Together with the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, it was enough — for no reason at all — to light the fire in this cramped space.
He was pulled up by the back of the neck by Nie Xu and forced to tilt his head back.
Nie Xu’s kiss was heavier than any of their previous ones, carrying the force of someone who had finally released chains that had been restrained for too long. His tongue pressed past his teeth and drove straight in. For Ji Yang, this was no more pleasant than everything before.
The temperature inside the car kept climbing. The pajamas were utterly useless now. The moment Ji Yang was easily overtaken, he tilted his head back, his voice changing pitch.
He realized things were spiraling out of control.
Summoning every last ounce of strength, he flipped over, trying to break free, and forced out a desperate reminder: “This is in a car!”
Nie Xu brought his hands down but didn’t untie them, letting out a soft laugh. “This vehicle weighs over three tons, is nearly 4900mm long, has three differential locks, a full-time four-wheel-drive system, and a body-on-frame construction. Know what that means?”
Ji Yang, in all sincerity, actually asked: “What does it mean?”
Nie Xu pulled his arms above his head, turned sideways, and pressed down on him. “It means that whatever happens in this car tonight, no one outside will ever know.”
The warm air Nie Xu had turned on at some point — the heating was far too generous — had already drawn a thin sheen of sweat across Ji Yang’s temple.
He didn’t have time to read the surging darkness in Nie Xu’s eyes before he was swept into what was called the “lesson journey.”
Nie Xu said: “Your first mistake today — your professional knowledge isn’t rigorous enough.”
The belt finally slipped free from Ji Yang’s wrists, but the cold leather traced across every inch of his skin. The way Nie Xu taught him to tie knots was far too unconventional, and in the end, Ji Yang was trapped in a predicament he could barely bring himself to face — trembling and begging for mercy far too long.
Nie Xu said: “Your second mistake — all show, no substance.”
Then Ji Yang personally experienced what it meant to do more and say less. So much less that every sound was buried, suppressed — leaving only the frantic, surging sensory stimulation and layer upon layer of sweat. Continuously fermenting and accumulating inside the car, leaving him like a beautiful, soaking-wet fish, parched to the very bone.
Nie Xu said: “The most fatal mistake — after receiving a clear warning, you still trusted someone like me…”
The night stretched on, endless. Nie Xu’s injuries had not affected him in the slightest. On the contrary, the windows fogged over with a thin veil of mist, and when Ji Yang, voice gone hoarse, cursed him as a “beast” and a “dog of a man,” the overlapping handprints pressed against the glass were the last proof that Ji Yang had been conscious at all.
Ji Yang never expected that on his first night back from the border, he would have absolutely no recollection of how he returned to the house at Boman.
The next morning, he woke up in bed, and even he wasn’t quite sure where he was.
Clear daylight poured through the window. The panes were rimmed with frost.
The door to the room was pushed open.
Nie Xu looked like he had just finished his morning exercise. Seeing him sitting up in bed, there was a rare warmth in his eyes. “You’re awake?”
“What time is it?” Ji Yang asked.
Nie Xu lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch. “Seven in the morning.”
Ji Yang was a bit surprised. “This early?”
Nie Xu: “To be precise, this is seven in the morning after you’ve slept for nearly twenty-four hours.”
Ji Yang: “…”
He could hardly believe it. He instinctively grabbed his phone to check the date, and then found — that’s right. Counting from the day he flew back, this was already the third morning.
Nie Xu was amused by his reaction. He walked over, picked up the glass of water that had been sitting on the bedside table all along, and sat on the edge of the bed. “You were too tense from work before you came to find me. Sleeping more is a good thing.”
Ji Yang stared at the rim of the glass pressed to his lips, half-convinced, half-doubtful. “Why do I feel like this is just an excuse to avoid guilt?”
Nie Xu neither confirmed nor denied it, simply gesturing for him to drink.
Ji Yang drank most of the water straight from his hand. Unbidden, his mind conjured up the scene of drinking water in the car — water trailing down from the corners of his lips — an image so lewd it was absurd.
“Running a fever?” Nie Xu set down the glass, frowning as he pressed his hand to Ji Yang’s forehead.
Ji Yang swatted it away at once. “No.”
Nie Xu stared at him for two seconds, then raised an eyebrow with understanding. “Weren’t you pretty bold when you took the initiative at first?”
At the mention of this, Ji Yang regretted everything.
Once Nie Xu had teased him fully awake, that was that. He patted Ji Yang’s hair. “Get up and eat. Auntie made soup yesterday and has been waiting for you.”
Ji Yang: … So even the household staff knows he slept for twenty-four hours straight, then.
Holding on to one last thread of hope, Ji Yang asked: “L-last night — the night before last — what time did we get back?”
“Five in the morning.” Nie Xu answered quickly.
Ji Yang let out a breath of relief. At that hour, there wouldn’t be many people around. Then he dissatisfied ed again: “Might as well have just stayed in the car and slept.”
Hearing this, Nie Xu’s eyebrow rose. He turned back, bent over, and braced his hands on either side of Ji Yang.
Ji Yang looked up. “What?”
“You don’t know why we can’t stay in the car?” Nie Xu asked.
Ji Yang instinctively felt this was not a good question, but still blurted out: “Why?”
Nie Xu leaned in close, whispering intimately against Ji Yang’s ear: “Because that night, the car took on a flood.”
Ji Yang turned red on the spot.
Nie Xu gave him a thorough lesson — and by hand, demonstrated to him exactly what it looks like when someone with an extreme need for control from the very marrow of their bones, who calls himself no good man, truly lets go.
Ji Yang’s hands gripped the bedsheet viciously.
In his mind, he had already placed the G-Class on a lifelong blacklist of vehicles he would never buy — and had resolved that from now on, he wouldn’t even sit in one.