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Lin Xiangqi felt like his entire worldview had just been turned upside down.

Before today, he never knew that the human body could have such particular sensations at certain moments.

He didn’t even know how to describe his feelings—he could only blame everything on Lu Cong.

He had touched Lu Cong’s hand before—rough like sandpaper, with thick finger bones, callused and powerful. There were scattered scars on the back of his hand and tiger’s mouth, and his palm was etched with deep, dried lines from old calluses. They were hands full of strength—hands that had crushed many skulls over the years. Blood and violence were embedded in every fingerprint.

Lin Xiangqi had once even complimented Lu Cong, saying that although his hands were rough, they were warm—and holding them made him feel safe.

Never did he expect that one day he’d be sent spiraling into an overwhelming climax by those very same warm hands.

The unfamiliar and intense stimulation left Lin Xiangqi dizzy for a moment. Lu Cong lifted him out of the water, bringing a cascade of splashes with them. His large palms held Lin Xiangqi steady as he used clean, hot water to rinse away the sticky, slippery mess from the inside of Lin Xiangqi’s thighs.

That night, Lin Xiangqi drifted in and out of consciousness several times. When he opened his eyes again, he wasn’t even sure whether he was truly awake. All he knew was that he was curled up in Lu Cong’s arms, the soft hum of the hairdryer buzzing beside his ear. At the wrong time, he found himself thinking: When did Lu Cong switch back to this old hairdryer model? The smart styling one from last time was pretty good.

From his angle, his gaze was level with Lu Cong’s shoulder. When he looked up, he saw that horrifying scar again.

Lin Xiangqi didn’t know what was wrong with him. Maybe he was still groggy from sleep, or maybe he was so mentally fogged from his first orgasm that his brain hadn’t caught up. It was like that numbed-out state one gets after anesthesia—anything could happen.

In that state, Lin Xiangqi suddenly leaned forward and licked the scar on Lu Cong’s shoulder.

And then—he fell asleep again.

The hairdryer abruptly stopped. Lu Cong stared down at the person in his arms, stunned. For a long while, he couldn’t even catch his breath.

But Lin Xiangqi was out cold, as if that wet, soft sensation just now had been a complete hallucination.

After a moment, Lu Cong finished cleaning him up, carried him out, and carefully tucked him into bed.

He stood at the bedside for a while. In the end, he couldn’t help himself. He leaned down, gently pinched Lin Xiangqi’s soft cheeks, and kissed him deeply. His lips captured Lin Xiangqi’s tongue with a kind of frustrated ferocity, sucking on it for a long time.

In his sleep, Lin Xiangqi frowned and whimpered pitifully, like he was in pain.

Only then did Lu Cong finally let go, stared at him for a long moment, and then quietly left the room.

That night, the alpha’s surging pheromones boiled hot and wild, like a fire threatening to scorch the entire bathroom. The air was thick with lust—enough to leave a man who prided himself on self-control tossing and turning all night.

The next morning, the very first thing Lin Xiangqi did upon opening his eyes… was close them again.

Lu Cong stood at the bedside holding breakfast. “?”

Lin Xiangqi: “……”

If I close my eyes fast enough, I can pretend none of this ever happened.

“I have an 8 o’clock meeting,” Lu Cong glanced at the time—less than ten minutes left. He wanted to say a simple goodbye, “Aren’t you going to see me off?”

Lin Xiangqi kept pretending to sleep and even turned to face away from him.

He used the back of his round little head to respond to Lu Cong with brutal indifference.

Lu Cong said, “The breakfast is crab roe soup dumplings—the ones you said you wanted a few days ago.”

The little head lifted a bit.

But soon, with incredible resolve, it sank back into the pillow.

Lu Cong understood.

This one wasn’t going to acknowledge him.

“I’ll leave the breakfast here. Make sure to eat. Today’s meeting shouldn’t take too long—I should be back before noon. If I’m running late, I’ll let you know.”

He set the tray down and looked at that stubborn little head again.

“If you get bored, call me. I’ll always pick up. If you want to wait for me to do your homework, that’s fine too. Or you can do it yourself. Tell them to give you paper workbooks instead of those new digital ones—you’re not used to them, and they’ll strain your eyes.”

He gave all sorts of instructions, which only made Lin Xiangqi more annoyed. From under the covers came a muffled, “Stop nagging.”

Lu Cong, playing dumb: “So you are awake?”

Lin Xiangqi didn’t reply.

Lu Cong suddenly laughed low.

His voice was now deeper and rougher than before, and even that laugh rumbled, scratching at Lin Xiangqi’s ears.

Lin Xiangqi mumbled, “What are you laughing at.”

“You rarely get upset with me,” Lu Cong said, crossing his arms and looking down at him. “It’s kind of refreshing.”

He wasn’t counting the period when Lin Xiangqi had been influenced by Shen Qiaolan.

Since they were kids, their relationship had always been good—almost no arguments or conflict between them.

When they were young, Lu Cong had a good temper, was humble, and was an all-around model student—morally, intellectually, physically, and socially perfect.

Lin Xiangqi had a sharper personality, but he always knew Lu Cong was more mature and saw things more clearly, so even when they disagreed, he’d usually go along after some discussion.

Lin Xiangqi wasn’t exactly known for his good temper. On the contrary, he had a short fuse and held grudges—if someone pissed him off, he’d make them pay dearly.

But Lu Cong had never given him a reason to get angry. Lu Cong always yielded to him. He never had a chance to say harsh words to Lu Cong—much less throw a tantrum. At most, he’d tease or joke around. It felt more like he was just acting cute.

“I’m not angry,” Lin Xiangqi finally turned over and sat up—but scooted himself to the foot of the bed, avoiding eye contact. “I just woke up.”

He really wasn’t angry.

Lu Cong said, “Why are you sitting so far? Are you scared of me?”

Lin Xiangqi: “No.”

Lu Cong: “Then come over here.”

Lin Xiangqi shrank back. “Stop it.”

“Lin Xiangqi,” Lu Cong said in a mock stern voice. “Come here.”

Lin Xiangqi wasn’t intimidated at all. He pouted and muttered, “Why would I go over there—so you can do that thing again.”

Lu Cong pressed his lips together, holding back a laugh. He moved closer, stretching a leg to the edge of the bed—just a hand’s reach away.

“What thing?” he asked.

Seeing Lu Cong approaching, Lin Xiangqi panicked. “Back! Back! Back!”

Lu Cong: “So you’re not mad—you’re just shy.”

Before Lin Xiangqi could react, Lu Cong suddenly grabbed his exposed ankle.

Lin Xiangqi jolted and kicked instinctively, but compared to Lu Cong’s strength, he might as well have tickled him. All he managed to do was make himself easier to catch.

Sure enough, Lu Cong caught his slender ankle and effortlessly pulled him over.

Lin Xiangqi was dragged right up to him, and before he could escape, Lu Cong leaned down over him.

Lin Xiangqi squeezed his eyes shut and heard Lu Cong whisper low in his ear, “Yanyan, you’re adorable when you’re like this. But I hope you’ll adjust soon. Because that thing—we’re going to be doing it a lot from now on.”

Lin Xiangqi: “!!!”
He opened his eyes wide in shock and glared at him. “What? What do you mean a lot?!”

Lu Cong didn’t answer. He just kissed him hard on the lips with a loud smooch and said, “I’m leaving now. We’ll talk more when I get back.”

At the door, he paused and added, “If you’re not happy with my hands, we can always try something else.”

Lin Xiangqi blinked for a couple of seconds—then grabbed a pillow and hurled it at his back.

“…Pervert!”