The shock in Qin Chuan’s heart was about to break through the screen.
How was this possible? These were techniques that only professional veteran players taught in private. How could this poor loser Gong Ze know them?!
Qin Chuan turned his head and glared at Gong Ze. “How come you also—”
“Shocked?” Gong Ze leaned down, using his body as cover while pressing his knee against Qin Chuan. There was a mix of pain and an intimate, almost tender ambiguity in the gesture. Gong Ze no longer hid his delight and dominance. He drew close to Qin Chuan like a tease, his breath soft as orchid. “Enjoy taking advantage of me, huh?”
Watching this highly aggressive, dangerously seductive version of Gong Ze, Qin Chuan—himself a master of disguise—suddenly understood.
“So you were faking it!!”
Qin Chuan’s expression darkened as he coldly stared at Gong Ze, running through hundreds of theories about Gong Ze’s motives in his mind. At the same time, in his eyes, GongZe transformed from short-sighted and foolish to dangerous and incredibly sexy.
Gong Ze suddenly smiled. He mimicked Qin Chuan’s earlier gesture and stroked him.
He pressed down with his knee, grinding slowly, and Qin Chuan immediately let out a muffled sound that was half pain, half pleasure.
“This is a punishment.”
Gong Ze breathed against Qin Chuan’s ear.
His narrow eyes squinted with a mischievous, delighted smile. At the same time, his knee released, pressed, released, pressed again… Qin Chuan’s struggling weakened, the exposed skin flushing pink. And then…
“Nn!”
After making that sound, Qin Chuan froze, not daring to move.
He could feel this far more terrifying impostor reaching a cold hand around his back to rest on his stomach. With a mischievous intent, those five fingertips pressed firmly, slowly rubbing against the tense muscles through the fabric, one dipping motion at a time.
His clothes were disheveled, wrinkled.
The touch was like a lover’s tender, soothing caress.
And then…
“This is a reward.”
A magnetic, laughter-laced voice teased his ear canal.
Hearing Gong Ze taunt him, do that to him… Qin Chuan felt shame and anger, but beneath it all, a strange excitement stirred in his heart, which began pounding uncontrollably.
“Brother Qin, what are you doing?! Why haven’t you pushed that lunatic away!”
Yan Zhenzhen screamed furiously from offstage.
On the stage, Gong Ze slowly and deliberately pushed himself upright, seemingly unafraid of any retaliation from Qin Chuan. Because as long as Qin Chuan had any shred of dignity left, he wouldn’t dare stand up.
Qin Chuan turned his head. He watched helplessly as Gong Ze untied the tie from his wrist with the same leisurely, unhurried motion as at the start. Then Gong Ze dangled it over Qin Chuan’s body and let go…
The tie spiraled downward and landed right on the main protagonist gong, Qin Chuan.
Gong Ze turned and waved at the protagonist gong Qin Chuan, who was staring intently at him from the floor. “I win. Had a great time today, thanks to Young Master Qin. Let’s continue another time. Heh… Goodbye.”
“GONG ZE!!”
Behind him came a roar—Qin Chuan’s first unguarded outburst, tearing off his gentle, refined mask.
Gong Ze looked back.
Qin Chuan’s chest heaved. “I won’t let you get away with this!”
Gong Ze heard the system notification in his mind: [Main protagonist gong Qin Chuan’s affection +50. Current affection: 50.] He was amused by Qin Chuan’s duplicity.
Gong Ze curved his lips. “I’ll be waiting.”
Qin Chuan watched Gong Ze leave the stage with a bitter, humiliated feeling. As he stewed in his mortification, a jacket suddenly flew over to him—the very one Qin Chuan had taken off before going on stage.
Qin Chuan’s head snapped up.
The man at the edge of the stage, his own suit jacket draped over his arm, had already walked away without looking back.
“…” Clutching the jacket, the heat beneath Qin Chuan’s chest grew more intense. Under the audience’s awkward, silent stares, he feigned composure, wrapped the jacket around his waist to cover himself up front, and got to his feet.
He had been angry—after all, he cared about appearances and liked playing the good guy.
But then a small object fell to the ground.
Qin Chuan looked down.
It was the tie Gong Ze had tossed onto his lap.
Like a victor’s humiliation of the loser. Also like the hottest, most scorching temptation.
Qin Chuan stared down at it. After a moment, as if possessed, he quickly snatched up the tie and stuffed it into his pocket.
·
·
On the way back, the system was as silent as the dead.
Gong Ze ignored it. He closed his eyes and calmly mapped out a clear game plan in his mind.
The main protagonist gong, Qin Chuan, wasn’t that hard to hook. Gong Ze had seen through his true nature at a glance.
This type—lustful, arrogant, believing everyone else is a fool being played by his superior intelligence—will come knocking on its own, as long as you give them one stimulating, unforgettable, ambiguous signal.
It’s also because this type of protagonist is lust-driven that he lacks genuine feelings. He thinks highly of himself, believing no one is good enough for him—a classic narcissist and egoist.
Reaching 70 affection, the “lover” threshold, isn’t a problem. It only gets difficult past 70.
Gong Ze had no real interest in toying with Qin Chuan. He decided to fish casually from now on—let the fish get impatient, then give it a little sweet bait, and leave it to free-range in between.
The car stopped at the Sang residence.
Sang’s parents had already been eliminated by the original Gong Ze, and now this house also belonged to Gong Ze.
His eyes flickered. Gong Ze changed direction mid-step and headed toward the room of the protagonist shou, Sang You.
The man had scrapes on his face and arms, his hands in his pockets with his suit jacket draped over his arm. Burdened by a deep, blood-soaked vendetta, the gloomy, ominous air about him detracted from his handsome features.
But today, he was clearly in high spirits.
His brow carried an unmistakable smugness. His steps were light and long, his goal clear as he walked toward the boy’s room—like a jackal eager to show off after defeating a rival for a mate, the corners of his lips slightly curved.
However, when he spotted another man pacing outside the boy’s door, his relaxed brow instantly darkened again with a cloud of vicious jealousy.
“What are you doing here.”
His voice was furious as he interrogated his subordinate.
“You told me to look after Young Master Sang.” Upon seeing his master, the bear-like suited man lowered his head. His massive, thick pectoral muscles strained dangerously against the suit jacket buttoned across his chest.
His handsome face, paired with a dull, sullen personality, gave off an annoying aura—the kind of person who couldn’t express himself no matter how hard you tried.
Though taller, Wang Liben hunched his back in front of Gong Ze. He said in a low, sullen voice, “But Young Master Sang won’t let me in, won’t let me take care of him. He threw me out.”
Upon hearing that he had been driven out, Gong Ze’s terrible expression suddenly improved—even became quite pleased.
“He threw something at you? Where?” Gong Ze asked casually.
Wang Liben reached out and unbuttoned the suit button that was about to pop off his chest, along with the shirt underneath that had already lost its buttons. A warm, pale mound immediately sprang into view.
“Here.”
He lowered his head to show Gong Ze the purple-blue bruise on the rounded curve.
Gong Ze’s gaze dropped to the crown of the bear-like man’s head. Unnoticed by him, a flicker of surprise crossed his brow.
Is it just my imagination…
Gong Ze narrowed his eyes. Why did he feel like this Wang Liben was seduce him?
Who in their right mind would strip open their clothes on the spot to show another man their breast? Sure, they were both men, but this behavior was really suggestive.
The atmosphere fell into silence.
After a moment, Gong Ze deliberately reached out and gently brushed the back of his index finger along that muscular, rounded curve resting outside the shirt. The skin exposed to the cold air pitifully broke out in goosebumps.
Gong Ze’s fingers traveled downward. Even when they nearly touched that light brown (nipple), Wang Liben didn’t flinch.
So now Gong Ze understood.
Interesting…
Heh. For such a small, cliché, melodramatic plot, how many more surprises were there that he didn’t know about?
“Yeah, that’s quite a bruise. Looks swollen. No wonder you couldn’t button your shirt.”
Wang Liben stood motionless and silent.
Gong Ze withdrew his hand and glanced at him. “What did he throw at you?”
Wang Liben finally answered, “An ashtray.”
Gong Ze said, “Take the day off. Go home and apply a warm compress.”
Hearing this, Wang Liben looked up at Gong Ze, then glanced at Gong Ze’s fingers. He nodded, silently and obediently closed his clothes, turned around, and left.
Watching this man—the original owner’s most loyal attack dog—Gong Ze stared at his retreating back and suddenly called out softly, “System.”
The system, which had been moping in a corner, responded blankly: [Huh?]
Gong Ze curved his lips with amusement. “Do you know what functions a scholar’s attendant had in ancient times?”
The system was baffled by this completely out-of-left-field question.
[Uh… they basically took care of their master’s studying and writing, I guess?]
Gong Ze neither confirmed nor denied it. He simply glanced at the system with a smirk and said, “Look it up when you have time.”
Then he knocked on the protagonist shou Sang You’s door.
Leaving the system with a head full of little question marks.
?? Was that wrong? Did scholar’s attendants have some other purpose?
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