“You can find a man!”
Chen Zemian sounded like he had finally solved a nearly impossible math problem. He was visibly thrilled.
“Find a man. A strong one. That way, when you two… you know… even if you have an episode and your brain gets taken over by animal instinct, he can stop whenever he wants. He’d still have the strength to resist you.”
Lu Zhuonian: “…”
The look in Lu Zhuonian’s eyes made it clear he had objections again. Chen Zemian caught on instantly.
“What now? Women aren’t an option, and men aren’t either. So what do you want to do?”
Expressionless, Lu Zhuonian replied,
“I want to fuck you.”
Chen Zemian’s mind went blank for a second. He froze.
“Me?”
Lu Zhuonian said nothing. He simply lifted his teacup with graceful detachment and took a quiet sip, eyes lowered.
Chen Zemian leaned over the table, creeping in closer with cautious disbelief.
“When you say ‘fuck’… do you mean the kind of ‘fuck’ I think you mean?””
Lu Zhuonian was calm and took the initiative. “How do I know which one you understand?”
Chen Zemian said, “Do you want to do me because I just said something abstract, or do you want to do me because you want to do me?”
Lu Zhuonian gave him a sidelong glance and said, “Speak human language.”
For the first time, Chen Zemian felt that Chinese might actually be a terribly inconvenient language—but thankfully, with his unparalleled verbal improvisation skills, he managed to find a workaround.
“I mean, when you said ‘fuck,’ did you mean hit, or… do?”
Lu Zhuonian couldn’t help but chuckle.
Chen Zemian was already anxious to death, yet Lu Zhuonian was still laughing. It made him feel like Lu Zhuonian was deliberately teasing him.
Maybe Lu Zhuonian said he wanted to do it with him just because he suggested finding a man. Or maybe it was because they were close, and Lu Zhuonian just picked the nearest option.
“Stop laughing.”
Chen Zemian gave Lu Zhuonian a shove. “Are you serious or not?”
Lu Zhuonian’s voice carried a hint of laughter. “I’m serious.”
The more he laughed, the more Chen Zemian felt that he’s teasing him.
But as a good brother, he had to make his point even if he was joking.
His support was non-negotiable!
He stood up, lifted his hand, and tugged loose the drawstring of his sweatpants.
“Alright. If it’ll help treat your illness, it’s no big deal.”
Lu Zhuonian’s pupils contracted sharply, his eyes fixed on Chen Zemian in shock.
With righteous determination, Chen Zemian grabbed Lu Zhuonian’s hand and pressed it to his own chest.
“If you want to do it, then do it.”
Lu Zhuonian’s fingers curled slightly. His brain stalled for a moment, caught in utter shock. Under such extreme disbelief, he actually caught whatever madness Chen Zemian had—his words came out scrambled.
“You don’t even have a chest, so what’s the point of putting my hand there, may I ask?”
Still gripping his hand, Chen Zemian guided it to move it down along his chest to his lower abdomen.
Just before touching the critical point, Lu Zhuonian suddenly came to his senses and pulled his hand back as if he had been electrocuted.
“Chen Zemian! Are you crazy?!” he barked, voice sharp.
But Chen Zemian had been expecting this. He shook the drawstring of his sweatpants with dramatic flair and burst out laughing. “Hahahaha! Lu Zhuonian, I knew you were just messing with me. You, of all people, with your pride—how can you out-abstract me? I dare to take off my pants now, do you dare?”
Lu Zhuonian was simply convinced, and was completely convinced.
He admitted defeat. “I dare not.”
Before he discovered the truth about Chen Zemian’s father, Lu Zhuonian had already made up his mind—he didn’t want to stay just friends anymore. He wanted more. Whether it was habit or the slow erosion of boundaries over time, it didn’t matter.
He had to have Chen Zemian, no matter the means.
But now… Lu Zhuonian was starting to hesitate.
If he didn’t cross that line, he could be Chen Zemian’s brother for life—protecting him, shielding him, paving the way for his success. He could watch him rise, marry, have children, grow old surrounded by joy and legacy.
But if he did cross that line… knowing himself, Lu Zhuonian understood one thing clearly: there would be no turning back.
He would hold onto Chen Zemian with a grip so tight, it would leave no room for escape. Lu Zhuonian would not hesitate to do unspeakable things, things that couldn’t stand the light of day, just to keep him.
He had the power to make Chen Zemian belong to him alone. Like guarding a priceless treasure, he would lock him away in a place no one else could reach, let alone touch or even desire.
Chen Zemian was easy to coax. Always had been. Give him what he needed, treat him well, and he’d soon get used to being pampered—and eventually, grow reluctant to leave.
And now, the results were beginning to show.
Chen Zemian had flown a red-eye just to see him after learning he was unwell. He’d shown up at five in the morning without hesitation. When Lu Zhuonian said I need you, Chen Zemian hadn’t flinched—just loosened the drawstring on his sweatpants without a word.
For all his outlandishness, Lu Zhuonian knew: even if he really had gone through with it, Chen Zemian probably wouldn’t have gotten mad.
It was as if only the thinnest pane of glass stood between them.
But just then, the results of the background check on Chen Qingyu had come in.
One unexpected revelation—and the whole plan began to fall apart.
Lu Zhuonian still hadn’t figured out how to handle it, nor how to break the news to Chen Zemian about his father. Before he could, his body gave out first.
This time, the symptoms came hard and fast—far worse than any episode before.
All it took was a brief chat downstairs with Chen Zemian. Cold sweat began to soak his back. His vision sparkled with flashing lights. His head spun. He’d been forcing himself to stay lucid just to talk to Chen Zemian, and as if fate wanted to toy with him, Chen Zemian had chosen that moment to say something utterly outrageous.
Chen Zemian placed the toy back in front of him and said, quite seriously, “You keep holding it in like this and it’ll mess you up. Whether you want to or not, today you’re letting it out. You doing it by hand, or should we use the toy?”
Neither option was remotely easy for Lu Zhuonian to accept. But he knew: if he didn’t make a choice, Chen Zemian absolutely had a backup plan.
Because Chen Zemian was nothing if not unpredictable.
Lu Zhuonian stood up, unsure whether it was out of exasperation or because the blood had drained from his head. The world tilted violently. He had to steady himself against the table just to stay upright.
Chen Zemian’s voice echoed, strangely distant, “What’s wrong?”
Lu Zhuonian opened his mouth to say I’m fine—but his vision was already blurring.
A second later, everything went black.
Chen Zemian caught him just in time. “Lu Zhuonian! Hey—wake up! Lu Zhuonian!”
No response.
A limp body was much heavier than expected. Chen Zemian couldn’t lift him, so he let Lu Zhuonian lean against his own shoulder while he reached over to grab his phone from the table.
First, he called the emergency line and gave them his location. Then he dialed Ye Chen.
Ye Chen was calm. “We can’t let outsiders find out about Zhuonian’s condition. I’ll send a private physician immediately.”
“How long will it take?” Chen Zemian asked.
“Fifteen minutes, tops.”
Chen Zemian glanced at the clock. “The ambulance might actually be faster.”
“Don’t call them,” Ye Chen said firmly. “The fewer people who know, the better.”
He knew Lu Zhuonian’s condition well. After all, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. After a brief pause, Ye Chen added, “Don’t panic. He’s not in danger. It’s just… backed up.”
Hearing that, Chen Zemian finally felt like he’d found someone who could actually communicate on his wavelength. “That’s what the doctor said too. But Lu Zhuonian—he’s too much sometimes.”
With smart people, you didn’t have to spell everything out. A few exchanges were enough for both sides to understand the full picture.
Ye Chen sounded mildly surprised. “He actually told you?”
“Yeah,” Chen Zemian said. “Nothing works for him. I was literally recommending a toy and then boom—he passed out.”
Ye Chen replied coolly, “Isn’t this the perfect opportunity?”
Chen Zemian stiffened. “You mean…?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Chen Zemian glanced at the toy. Then at Lu Zhuonian.
“He’s going to kill me when he wakes up, isn’t he?”
“You’ve got twelve minutes. I’m hanging up.”
The call ended, but Ye Chen’s sinister voice still echoed in his mind:
Isn’t this the perfect opportunity?
Twelve minutes.
Twelve minutes… that should be enough, right?
Chen Zemian swallowed and slowly reached for the “thermos” sitting on the table.
When he was awake, this was off-limits, that was forbidden. But now that he’d passed out—surely he didn’t get a say anymore, right?
Chen Zemian glanced around, despite the fact that they were clearly alone. Still, guilt clung to him like a thief caught mid-act, his heart thudding wildly in his chest.
He called Lu Zhuonian’s name again—once, twice. No response.
Swallowing hard, he steeled himself and slowly reached out a hand.
The moment he touched it, Chen Zemian inhaled sharply.
Holy hell. No wonder he’s the main character in a male fantasy novel—this was too dominant.
He stole a quick glance at the thermos cup beside him and sincerely doubted whether it could hold Lu Zhuonian at full strength.
What he was dealing with now… was probably just half capacity.
The half-awake serpent slumbered in the dark.
Chen Zemian’s pulse thundered in his ears as he carefully drew it out, preparing to collect the venom with the thermos cup.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy to fit an unconscious serpent into such a limited container. Left with no choice, Chen Zemian began manually rousing the beast.
As a man who’d been single for twenty-seven years—and a veteran in snake-rearing—Chen Zemian wasn’t entirely without technique.
The python stirred awake quickly.
But once fully alert, its true form was even more overwhelming. The thermos cup he’d prepared in advance proved far too small to contain it.
Chen Zemian attempted to cram it in—once, twice—but it just wouldn’t go. Grumbling, he gave up.
There was no time to regret choosing the wrong size cup.
The clock was ticking. The mission was urgent.
No turning back now.
Helping others was a traditional virtue, after all.
And in the process of carrying out that virtue, minute by minute, Chen Zemian transformed—from blushing and guilty to mechanical and hollow-eyed.
This is taking forever.
If you don’t quit when you should, it’s easy to dig yourself into a hole you can’t climb out of.
By the third minute, his wrist had already started to ache. But he kept telling himself, Just a bit longer, almost there. And so he trudged down the one-way path.
Fifth minute: Surely it’s about time now, right?
Eighth minute: I’ve come this far. If I stop now, it’ll all be for nothing.
By the tenth minute, Chen Zemian had grown so bored he started counting Lu Zhuonian’s eyelashes.
They were long, feathered, and carried a faint bluish tint, like crow feathers kissed by dusk.
Lu Zhuonian leaned against him, eyebrows furrowed sharply even in unconsciousness. Eyes tightly shut, but his aura remained formidable. His face, pale and almost fragile in its stillness, was damp with a sheen of cold sweat across his temples and nose.
Even unconscious, his body reacted instinctively—his chest heaved with uneven breath, his neck flushed red, and every so often he let out a low grunt, eyelids trembling faintly.
He looked like a life-sized, dangerously handsome doll.
By the eleventh minute, Chen Zemian was ready to throw in the towel.
The doctor would be here any second.
Just as he was about to release his grip, the serpent gave a sudden jolt—twitched once, twice.
There it was!
With renewed focus, Chen Zemian continued his efforts while reaching toward the box of tissues on the table.
His fingertips brushed the edge of the box—success!
But in the same moment, his other palm was hit with a sudden burst of sticky heat.
No—no no no! Not now! It’s going to get everywhere!
Just one more second, please—hang in there.
Gripping the tissues, Chen Zemian turned around—
And found himself staring straight into a pair of dark, unreadable eyes.
*****
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Author: LazyHermitGal
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