With fireworks lighting the way, Chen Zemian returned to Shengfu Hua Ting.
Before he even parked, he spotted the lights on inside. The dim glow filtered through the glass windows, quietly imprinting itself on his heart.
Normally, given his forgetful nature, he might’ve assumed he’d left them on. But today was his birthday, and Lu Zhuonian had already given him so many surprises.
It had to be him.
Chen Zemian couldn’t wait. He didn’t even bother getting out to confirm. Still on the phone, he asked breathlessly, “Is it you? Is it you?”
Lu Zhuonian’s voice smiled through the speaker. “It’s me.”
Chen Zemian’s heart surged. Expected or not, joy still spilled out of him. “I’m turning into the courtyard—come out, come out now. I want to see you first.”
Leaning against the doorframe, Lu Zhuonian said calmly, “I saw your car.”
The courtyard gate stood open, two stone pillar lights casting a soft, welcoming glow.
Someone was waiting for him.
Chen Zemian barely straightened the wheel before leaping from the car.
Lu Zhuonian stood beneath the light, smiling.
Without warning, Chen Zemian jumped into his arms and kissed him hard.
Lu Zhuonian stumbled half a step back, spine knocking against the stone wall—painful, but he said nothing.
As they embraced, longing burst open like wildfire. It set his pulse racing and ignited the blood roaring through his veins.
Chen Zemian kissed Lu Zhuonian’s cool lips, his tongue tracing every familiar line and curve.
Lu Zhuonian’s gaze darkened. He raised a hand, gripped the back of Chen Zemian’s neck, and deepened the kiss, the motion heavy with unspoken possessiveness.
Breaths grew short. The heat between them, stifling.
The moonlight broke through the clouds, casting shifting shadows over their faces.
Chen Zemian slid his hand into Lu Zhuonian’s pocket, searching, then down along the small of his back.
Lu Zhuonian caught his wrist, voice husky and magnetic. “The gift’s inside. I didn’t bring it out.”
Chen Zemian leaned in, nose brushing his cheek. “I’m not looking for the gift. Where are your handcuffs, Lu Zhuonian?”
Lu Zhuonian’s breath hitched. “You really want to play?”
Chen Zemian’s fingers twitched eagerly. “I said I’d handcuff you when we met. I keep my word.”
Lu Zhuonian tightened his grip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Chen Zemian scratched his chin. “They’re padded with cotton. It won’t hurt.”
“You bought them?”
“Yeah.”
Lu Zhuonian took his hand and walked him inside. “So obedient today?”
Chen Zemian had his own little calculation. “Later, you handcuff me once, and I’ll handcuff you once.”
Lu Zhuonian paused, looking back. “How exactly do you plan to handcuff me?”
Chen Zemian demonstrated. He crossed his wrists above his head. “Tie me to the iron bed in the basement, like this. You’ll be half-leaning against the headboard, arms stretched, your abs pulled taut. The lines will look amazing.”
Lu Zhuonian smirked. “You can try it.”
A few minutes later, Chen Zemian found himself cuffed to the bedframe exactly as described.
“…,” Chen Zemian muttered.
His arms, raised high, made his waist seem impossibly slender—delicate but toned, like he’d been sculpted from paper, every line precise.
Lu Zhuonian admired the view. “You’re right. It looks great.”
Chen Zemian tilted his head back, baring his pale neck. “Doesn’t it look even better like this?”
Lu Zhuonian leaned down, kissed the red mole on his neck, then released the cuffs and entwined their fingers. “Let’s eat first.”
Chen Zemian squeezed his hand. “You’re not in the mood?”
Lu Zhuonian pressed a hand to his stomach. “You’re hungry. Think you still have the energy for that?”
Chen Zemian rested his chin on his shoulder. “I don’t need energy. You can do whatever you want.”
Lu Zhuonian stroked his hair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take better care of you while you were sick. You’re clearly not in the right headspace now. If I cuff you and have my way with you, I’d be a real beast.”
Chen Zemian laughed. “It’s not that I’m not interested. I just keep thinking about when you’ll leave. I feel like… vacation’s ending and school starts tomorrow. I’m stuck in between.”
“I leave Sunday night,” Lu Zhuonian said. “We still have days ahead.”
Chen Zemian counted silently.
It was already Wednesday night. Today didn’t count. Sunday was a travel day, so no fun then.
“Thursday, Friday, Saturday.” He clung to Lu Zhuonian’s neck. “Three days. You call that ‘several’?”
Lu Zhuonian laughed. “Next Sunday.”
Chen Zemian’s head shot up. “Really?”
Lu Zhuonian pulled out his leave slip and showed him.
“…Isn’t this too long a break?”
“I used to take sick leave all the time. Now that I’ve got you, I don’t take as many. Call it accumulated time.”
Chen Zemian lived in his own vivid world. Blending into groups was never something he forced himself to do. He knew how to enjoy life, self-contained and content.
Free-spirited and playful, he was always in motion, always drawing others in. Yet he never lingered for long, and he never clung too tightly.
Still, love sharpens greed. Makes you possessive.
When he left Boston, it wasn’t just for rest. He needed space—needed to distance himself from Lu Zhuonian, physically and emotionally. To cool off, reset, gain perspective.
But avoiding it only made the feelings louder.
That separation didn’t calm his blood. It only confirmed what he already knew—
He really liked Lu Zhuonian.
So much that even after seeing him, he missed him already.
*****
Since Chen Zemian had taken several days off work, word of Lu Zhuonian’s return spread fast.
He kept getting invitations. Too many to handle individually, so he rolled them into one big gathering.
Someone asked him what kept him so busy. Why was he so hard to pin down this time?
Lu Zhuonian answered casually, “Not busy. Just spending time with my boyfriend, and playing games when I can.”
Silence fell.
Boyfriend?
Lu Zhuonian has a boyfriend?
Only Ye Chen and Xue Duo seemed unsurprised. Ye Chen already knew. Xue Duo remembered the name “Lu Xiaomian.”
Both turned to look at Chen Zemian.
Chen Zemian said nothing. Just lowered his head and sipped his soup.
Everyone wanted to ask, but Lu Zhuonian’s tone shut down the topic. So they turned their hopeful eyes to Ye Chen.
Ye Chen averted his gaze, unwilling to drag Chen Zemian into the spotlight.
Under the weight of all that silence, Chen Zemian practically buried his face in his bowl.
And still, he made no move to deny it.
Lu Zhuonian looked displeased. He frowned and tapped the table in front of Chen Zemian with his fingers.
Chen Zemian raised his head, feigning innocence. “Mr. Lu, do you want soup too?”
Lu Zhuonian’s tone remained flat. “What did you say before we came?”
Chen Zemian paused.
He had said that if anyone asked, they could go public at the party—but he hadn’t expected Lu Zhuonian to start right from frame zero. He wasn’t prepared.
Almost everyone at the table was sharp. With Lu Zhuonian’s calm declaration, anyone not absorbed in their food quickly put the pieces together.
Of course. It was Chen Zemian.
The surprise lasted only a moment. Then came the clarity. It all made sense.
No wonder Chen Zemian had gone from sidelined to center stage. It explained how he gained access to Mr. Lu, who no one could even approach. Their inseparability over the past months was no mystery either. When people couldn’t get an appointment with Mr. Lu, they quickly learned to go through Chen Zemian.
The realization swept the table. A quiet, charged silence filled the box.
Then someone said it aloud.
“Fuck.”
Liu Yuebo looked up, still holding a roast duck roll, pointing it at Chen Zemian. “Fuck, it can’t be you, Chen Zemian!”
Chen Zemian, a born fighter, straightened up. He had been playing weak, but now he snapped into position and slammed down three verbal buttons. “It’s me. What? You have a problem?”
Liu Yuebo, quick to adapt, remembered the fear of being steamrolled by Chen Zemian’s icy flair. His surprise dissolved immediately. He shook his head, then clapped three times, rapid and sincere.
“Good, Good, Good,” he said. “Great. I fully support it.”
Chen Zemian blinked.
The awkward applause made the air tense.
Liu Yuebo, living by the principle if I must embarrass myself, let’s all go down together, turned to everyone. “What, you all don’t support this?”
He trapped them with that one line.
One by one, applause trickled in. Sparse at first, then growing into an enthusiastic storm.
Chen Zemian just stared.
What the hell had Liu Yuebo dragged him into?
Ye Chen applauded too, unable to help himself at the absurdity.
Across the table, Lu Zhuonian remained calm. His expression hadn’t changed, even in the midst of the farce.
Seeing no help coming from that quarter, Chen Zemian leaned toward Ye Chen and gripped his arm in mock fury. “Ye Shao, don’t encourage them!”
Xue Duo was laughing so hard he nearly collapsed.
Chen Zemian stared at him, deadpan. “Is it that funny?”
“Yes!” Xue Duo wheezed. “And this guy is your soldier, Chen Zemian!”
Chen Zemian sighed.
After such a bizarre public reveal, he silently vowed to avoid all second-gen gatherings for at least the next ten years.
After hearing about Lu Zhuonian’s return, Cheng Ziyi invited both of them to a banquet to express her thanks.
Since Chen Zemian stood up for her at the airport, her agent Zhang Kun had gone silent. Once he discovered Chen Zemian’s background, he apologized in person, deferential and meek.
Cheng Ziyi proposed to terminate her contract with Huanyu Media. Zhang Kun didn’t refuse outright—he only said he’d “discuss it with the company.”
“I will terminate it,” Cheng Ziyi told Chen Zemian quietly. “Huanyu Media is rotten to the core. They use the guise of incubating influencers to select concubines. They drugged artists.”
She paused, eyes hard. “I was lucky. I’m allergic to the drug ingredients. I vomited all over the investor and spiked a 39-degree fever. That’s the only reason I escaped.”
Chen Zemian frowned. “No one called the police? Do they have something on the victims?”
She nodded slowly. “They took videos. No one dares report them. And after taking Xiaojin Pill, you lose all awareness. In the footage, the girls look… willing. It’s impossible to explain.”
Even though the Internet police would intercept most such content before it spread, one viewer alone would be enough to cause damage. That fear silenced the victims. Meanwhile, the perpetrators acted without restraint.
Huanyu’s operations followed a clear, horrifying structure.
They baited targets using celebrities and influencers, selected the most appealing prey, drugged them, and sent them to powerful businessmen. They filmed everything—then used that footage to control them.
Under that threat, the victims had no choice. Some even turned accomplice to avoid exposure—helping cover it up, persuading others to keep quiet.
The only way out was to find a sponsor for exclusive protection or claw their way to the top of the entertainment world, buy their own videos back, and escape.
A brothel disguised as a media company.
The rot beneath the glitz was sickening.
Lu Zhuonian lowered his gaze and said nothing.
Everything happening now mirrored the Yaotai Langyuan case from twenty years ago.
Director Sun had said someone escaped back then—someone who knew the banned drug formula. That person had spent two decades building a new empire of exploitation atop the ashes of the old.
Chen Zemian’s father had vanished the day Yaotai Langyuan closed—likely betrayed, or outed.
Could that surviving perpetrator know what happened to him?
In silence, the wheel of fate turned.
Chen Zemian slammed the table, voice tight. “Do they think they’re above the law?”
Cheng Ziyi hunched her shoulders. “Scandal ruins you. No one wants to risk it. Artists are public figures. Their reputation means everything. Who would dare go up against a giant like Huanyu and shatter themselves?”
She had thought of speaking up, but she knew it wasn’t just about her. Insults and smear campaigns she could endure. Walking away from the industry was also an option. The others, however, had no such choice.
If her resistance led to those videos leaking, she’d be blamed for everything.
Tears filled her eyes. “Am I being selfish? I know others suffered more. But I still kept quiet. I just wanted to stay safe… hiding behind you and Mr. Lu.”
Chen Zemian looked at her seriously. “That’s not selfish. You had no choice.”
She broke down. “I don’t know what to do…”
“We go to the police,” Chen Zemian said. “But we need to act fast. Hit hard, hit once. If the police move before they react, those videos won’t have time to leak.”
Cheng Ziyi blinked. “But how? Without key evidence, the police can’t just arrest an entire company.”
Lu Zhuonian turned, already guessing where this was headed.
Chen Zemian met his gaze. “I’ll find a way to reach your boss. I’ll get the evidence.”
Lu Zhuonian’s fears were confirmed.
Twenty years had passed. And now, everything had circled back.
Those who knew the truth had tried to protect Chen Zemian, hoping to shield him from his father’s fate.
But in the end, he picked up the blade his father left behind—rushed headfirst into the storm.
*****
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Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
