“Puppy?”
Lu Zhuonian gently stroked Chen Zemian’s cheek, his voice laced with teasing curiosity. “Is it the kind of puppy that deliberately makes mistakes, waiting for its master to punish it?”
Chen Zemian’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Ah?”
Lu Zhuonian chuckled softly, his hand still resting on Chen Zemian’s face. “A puppy capable of cooking four dishes and a soup, and even taking a doctoral exam—now that’s interesting.”
Chen Zemian’s ears warmed, and a faint pink spread across his neck. “How do you know what I said to Fu Tingchao?”
Lu Zhuonian’s gaze sharpened, reminding him gently, “The voice call isn’t hung up.”
Embarrassed, Chen Zemian mumbled, “Oh.”
So it was that Lu Zhuonian also heard Fu Tingchao’s words—”puppies can leak urine.”
Chen Zemian didn’t feel anything at the words—yet, for some reason, the moment he realized Lu Zhuonian had heard them, his whole body flushed with heat.
Lu Zhuonian couldn’t forget it. He leaned in slightly, whispering with a low, deliberate tone. “Did Fu Tingchao teach you how to train a puppy that leaks urine?”
Chen Zemian held the belt with both hands, looping it around his neck and pushing the buckle as tight as he could with his right hand.
The men’s belt was thick, its platinum buckle heavy in his palm. The extra dozens of centimeters of length dangled unevenly, like a black chain, hanging around his neck with a distorted sense of disproportion.
Lu Zhuonian’s eyes darkened, and his breathing hitched instantly.
Chen Zemian handed the end of the belt to him.
Lu Zhuonian gently pulled, causing Chen Zemian to stumble forward. He braced himself with one hand against the wall to steady his balance.
“It hurts!” Chen Zemian cried out, fingers clutching the belt as he pressed into the gap between the leather and his neck. “Be gentle.”
The belt buckle’s hole wouldn’t align at this position—so it was not buckled tightly. When force was applied, the leather contracted sharply, tightening like white silk. The pain was sharp, suffocating.
Lu Zhuonian remained silent for a few seconds before untying the belt and tossing it aside.
Chen Zemian looked at the belt in confusion, then at him. “Are you not going to play anymore?”
Lu Zhuonian raised a finger, gently tracing the conspicuous red mark on Chen Zemian’s neck. “Chen Zemian, do you think I’ve gone too far?”
He looked at him, eyes unreadable. “What do you think?”
Chen Zemian, still confused, replied, “What’s too much?”
Lu Zhuonian slowly approached, his voice soft but heavy. “I asked someone to keep you here, not letting you go home—and I humiliated you.”
Chen Zemian didn’t understand. “No.”
They paid him a lot of money to stay.
Lu Zhuonian pressed Chen Zemian against the wall, his gaze darkening. “They treated you like this because they followed my orders. Don’t you have anything to say to me?”
Chen Zemian’s eyelashes fluttered slightly. He looked up to meet Lu Zhuonian’s eyes, then quickly lowered his gaze and whispered, embarrassed, “Again… humiliate me a little more.”
Seeing Chen Zemian’s seemingly heartless expression, Lu Zhuonian’s smile flickered with a hint of helplessness.
Since hearing last night that Fu Tingchao had sent the dog—since standing before Chen Zemian—Lu Zhuonian had spent a total of 18 hours and 20 minutes in a whirlwind of emotion.
He coordinated urgently with air traffic control across two countries, rushing to arrange the private plane’s route. During a tense three-minute silence with his friend Ye Chen, he briefly mentioned the “little milk dog” at home. Fearing Ye Chen couldn’t keep him, he even summoned all of Chen Zemian’s friends to come and take charge.
He hadn’t considered the consequences—nor cared about appearances.
Lu Zhuonian was in a panic.
At 10,000 meters high, crossing hemispheres—from one day to the next—he traversed a long, lonely night.
Eighteen hours and twenty minutes, over 10,810 kilometers—every moment of anxiety and contemplation condensed into this fleeting smile.
And then, it vanished—ash in the wind.
All that emotional exhaustion, all the long journey’s toll, left him hollow. But upon seeing Chen Zemian again, his heart surged with an unbreakable affection.
Fu Tingchao insisted on giving the little milk dog to Chen Zemian. What was wrong with Chen Zemian?
It never took Lu Zhuonian long to forgive him. He tossed the belt aside, draping an arm around Chen Zemian’s shoulders, pulling him into a gentle embrace.
Chen Zemian, still drowsy, pressed his cheek against Lu Zhuonian’s chest, succumbing to sleepiness once more. He yawned and asked softly, “Why don’t you just go home?”
Lu Zhuonian replied indifferently, “That would interfere with your playtime with the dog.”
Unaware of their different meanings—Chen Zemian thought of the dog, while Lu Zhuonian was alluding to something else—he smiled. “That can’t happen. If you come back, I’ll have Fu Tingchao take the dog away.”
Lu Zhuonian pressed a hand against Chen Zemian’s neck. “Then there won’t be any dog to play with.”
Chen Zemian smiled and, grabbing Lu Zhuonian’s collar, kissed him. “Then I’ll stay.”
His breathing grew uneven as Lu Zhuonian’s grip tightened. Without hesitation, he strode out, taking Chen Zemian with him.
The platinum belt still resting on the sofa caught Chen Zemian’s eye. He reached for it, but before he could fold it up, Lu Zhuonian snatched it from his hands.
Outside, they happened to meet several still-present guests.
Chen Zemian’s right hand was held by Lu Zhuonian, leaving him no choice but to raise his left hand in greeting. “You guys haven’t left yet.”
But the moment he lifted his hand, everyone’s gaze fell on the belt in his possession.
Everyone: “…”
Chen Zemian hurriedly withdrew his hand, clasping his behind his back, offering an awkward smile.
In that moment—one that tested both emotional intelligence and IQ—Xue Duo stepped forward and helped him out, saying softly, “Mr. Lu, are you going home? I’ll drive you.”
Hearing the phrase “go home,” Lu Zhuonian’s stern expression darkened further.
Xue Duo’s face fell.
His original intention was to help his brother—save him from fire and water. Yet, unexpectedly, he had only added fuel to the flames and slapped the horse’s hoof.
He was confused.
Why couldn’t he even mention going home? It was impossible to predict when Mr. Lu would lose his temper.
Liu Yuebo, having learned much from Chen Zemian, kept his dodge skills sharp. He never acted first; he didn’t speak, ask, listen, or look. Instead, the instant he saw the belt in Chen Zemian’s hand, he turned away, pretending to admire the intricate patterns on the wall.
Cheng Ziyi and Shen Qingwan hesitated, unsure of what to say or do.
Chen Zemian took the initiative to break the silence. “It’s okay, really. Lu Shao and I often play like this.”
Hearing this, everyone found the scene even more bizarre.
Chen Zemian felt himself sinking deeper into embarrassment. He wanted to make amends, but Lu Zhuonian impatiently pulled him along.
Chen Zemian staggered slightly, then was pulled into the elevator by Lu Zhuonian amid their puzzled gazes.
The elevator doors closed, slowly ascending.
“He, they’re not going home?”
Cheng Ziyi instinctively looked at the directory. Suddenly, she fell silent—the elevator had stopped at the top floor.
The entire top floor housed only one presidential suite.
What was happening upstairs was obvious—no need for words.
Everyone exchanged glances, unsure of what drama was unfolding. They dared not speak or ask. Seeing the owner had already taken his person away, they decided to disperse.
The suite was luxurious, private, and expansive. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in natural light. The clever one-way glass protected their privacy while offering a sweeping view of the scenery outside.
Without a word, Lu Zhuonian silently dragged Chen Zemian into the living room. Suddenly, he pushed him against the French window.
Chen Zemian’s back hit the cold glass, and he heard Lu Zhuonian whisper three words in his ear. “Turn over.”
Chen Zemian froze; his breathing quickened.
Lu Zhuonian loosened his tie, covering Chen Zemian’s eyes.
Deprived of sight, Chen Zemian’s other senses sharpened. Even the slightest sound—the fabric rubbing—became vivid.
His fingertips trembled with anticipation.
Lu Zhuonian’s eyes held a deep, inscrutable emotion as he watched him.
Seeing Chen Zemian struggle to untie his tie twice due to his obscured vision, Lu Zhuonian grew anxious, annoyed—like a young lover overwhelmed with desire—and suddenly turned him over.
Chen Zemian supported himself against the glass, groaning softly, “Slow down, it hurts!”
“Didn’t you ask for more humiliation?” Lu Zhuonian’s voice was low, yet commanding. He lowered his head, turned Chen Zemian’s face, and kissed him fiercely—possessively, passionately, with the primal strength of a beast.
It was too intense.
Chen Zemian was pressed against the window, his world tilting and spinning—an impending collapse.
He began to regret his impulsiveness, his words spilling without restraint.
Though he knew Lu Zhuonian was addicted to sex, he couldn’t help teasing him, relishing the sight of Lu Zhuonian losing control.
Testing the limits of danger—knowing there would be consequences.
Clothes fell in disarray, tangled in the chaos.
The tie slipped from his eyes; his lashes, moist with tears, fluttered. He closed his eyes, afraid to look outside or at his reflection in the glass.
Lu Zhuonian grasped Chen Zemian’s neck, forcing him to look into the mirror.
Chen Zemian’s muscles tensed immediately, whimpering like a small animal.
Lu Zhuonian’s breath was hot, his voice hoarse.
“Mianmian, do you enjoy being humiliated like this?”
Chen Zemian wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go. Only trembling, he hooked his fingers around the fallen tie, tying it over his eyes again—an attempt to conceal.
In the whirlwind of their intimacy, Chen Zemian was the first to surrender.
Lu Zhuonian stepped back slightly, releasing him.
Chen Zemian’s face, obscured by the black tie, felt an overwhelming emptiness—an unsettling void after Lu Zhuonian’s heat had left him.
The only sounds in the room were their hurried, echoing heartbeats, the only reality they knew.
He instinctively looked for Lu Zhuonian.
Despite his fierce demeanor moments ago, and the fierce kiss that left him breathless, Chen Zemian still longed for him—wanted to hold him close.
The glass before him was cold, yet Lu Zhuonian’s touch could make him warm.
His fingers brushed the trembling tie in front of him, and he reached back, voice trembling.
“Lu Zhuonian.”
Lu Zhuonian’s tone was cold, flat. “The glass is a little dirty. I can’t see the scenery below clearly.”
Chen Zemian pressed his forehead against the window, panting heavily, his shoulders twitching like broken butterfly wings. “Then, what should I do?”
Lu Zhuonian grasped the tie behind Chen Zemian’s head, pulling it tight, then handed him a handkerchief. “Go wipe it clean.”
Chen Zemian hesitated, leaning closer to the glass.
He couldn’t see where the glass was dirty—he didn’t remove his blindfold. Instead, he raised his face, gently fanning his nose, trying to find the scent on the glass with his nose.
Seeing this, Lu Zhuonian couldn’t suppress a curse. “Chen Zemian, how are you so good at this?”
Chen Zemian chuckled softly. “I’ll get better.”
Then, turning to “look” at Lu Zhuonian, he tilted his chin to the glass, the elegant line of his jaw, the fragile white neck, the bright red mole—each detail overlapping, constantly assaulting Lu Zhuonian’s waning willpower.
His breath grew heavier.
Even so, Chen Zemian felt it was not enough.
With his moist, tender lips parted slightly, he stretched out his tongue, licking the glass with a slow, deliberate motion.
*****
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Author: LazyHermitGal
A Lazy Hermit Gal wondering in the void and falling into the translation abyss.
