Chapter 30: Dionysus (10)

Tan Zhao had been displeased with Gu Jing for quite some time.

Setting aside the issue of this personal secretary being far too close to Wen Mingwei, what bothered Tan Zhao more was that Gu Jing clearly did not consider him one of their own. He was currently Wen Mingwei’s boyfriend and business partner; Wen Mingwei was usually falling over himself to coax him, so why was this secretary always so lukewarm? It was as if he were merely a guest in this home, rather than another master of the house. He even tried to avoid Tan Zhao when reporting investigative information, treating it as purely official business.

After washing up, Tan Zhao walked out of the bathroom and sat down next to Wen Mingwei with a dark expression, intentionally trying to assert the authority of the man of the house. Unfortunately, neither Wen Mingwei nor Gu Jing noticed the young master’s petty thoughts. One was busy tying up his hair, while the other remained respectful, stern, and rigid, showing almost no emotion.

"We traced the anonymous package back to the sender through the courier company’s internal network," Gu Jing said. "It’s a high school student, seventeen years old, with a clean background."

He showed Wen Mingwei a photo. In it, a tall boy in a school uniform faced the camera with a cautious expression and ordinary features. "According to his confession, he was paid by someone else to send the package. He happened to be short on money, and since sending a photo wasn’t illegal or dangerous, he agreed without much hesitation."

"Who paid him?"

Gu Jing hesitated for a moment before saying, "He said it was a man with the surname Jian."

The atmosphere went quiet for a few seconds. Wen Mingwei asked, "Any other information?"

"He described his appearance. The features generally match, but I cannot guarantee that his statement is entirely accurate." Gu Jing gave Tan Zhao a look of ambiguous meaning and added vaguely, "Other than that, we haven't found any effective leads regarding last night's explosion."

Wen Mingwei frowned, remaining silent.

Tan Zhao didn't understand the riddle they were speaking in. "The features match? Match who? Is it someone with the surname Jian that you know?"

Tan Zhao was unfamiliar with Wen Mingwei’s social circle. When a person named Jian was mentioned, his first reaction was Jian Xinning. As he thought of Jian Xinning, something flashed across his mind, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He asked subconsciously, "It couldn't be that person, could it? The man you once had a crush on?"

"..."

"I forgot to ask last time—what was his name?"

Wen Mingwei pressed his hand down in a soothing gesture and said to Gu Jing, "I understand. You may leave."

As soon as Gu Jing left, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Even though the couple, who had just spent their first night together, were physically separated, their spirits remained intertwined. Tan Zhao gripped Wen Mingwei’s waist, wanting to kiss him once before letting his temper flare. "Speak."

"..."

"Did I guess right? Is his surname Jian? Didn't you say it was impossible for him to have sent the photo? What is going on now?"

With his mouth blocked, Wen Mingwei parted his lips to return a deep kiss. His initiative carried a hint of fawning. Tan Zhao, already accustomed to being coaxed, pushed him away slightly, feeling displeased. "Speak properly. No acting cute to brush me off."

However, the warning was useless. Wen Mingwei kissed him again, proving with his actions that acting cute was highly effective. He pressed his hands against Tan Zhao’s shoulders, guiding him back toward the head of the bed. The look in his eyes during the kiss was exactly the same as it had been last night—though, strictly speaking, it couldn't be called acting cute. Wen Mingwei was casting an inescapable net, wrapping Tan Zhao in his scent, forcefully and gently stealing the oxygen from his lungs. As if that weren't enough, he wanted more; he wanted to swallow Tan Zhao whole and chew him to pieces.

It took half a minute of being pinned down and kissed for Tan Zhao to realize that this was possessiveness.

Love is difficult to define precisely, but the feeling of being loved was tangible. Wen Mingwei’s desire and intense possessiveness were proof that he loved him to the bone. The little reserve he had possessed vanished completely after their first night together. Even the kisses were no longer simple; they carried a sexual undertone, a desire for union.

Morning is a dangerous time for impulses. Tan Zhao began to feel aroused, and in his haste, he glanced at his watch—he had a business trip today and couldn't spend the morning dallying with Wen Mingwei. With his thoughts drifting so far away that he almost forgot what they were talking about, he felt a flicker of annoyance. "You're trying to dodge the question again."

Wen Mingwei chuckled and bit his lip, leaving a tooth mark. "Just leave this matter to me. You’ll only get upset if you dig too deep."

"You're being suspicious."

"No, I’m just afraid of you overthinking things." Wen Mingwei said, "My past feelings for him are exactly that—the past. It’s been so long, why bring up old grievances? Now, I only have eyes for you."

Tan Zhao snorted.

"You have to trust me."

Wen Mingwei kissed the spot he had just bitten, smoothing things over. "Someone wants to make an issue of this to drive a wedge between us. No matter what rumors you hear, don’t take them to heart. Don't let him succeed, okay?"

"Why do I feel like what you’re saying is strange?"

"I just ache at the thought of you being sad or angry."

"...So sappy."

If a person’s spirit had a tail, the one behind Tan Zhao would have been wagging frantically. He couldn't keep kissing Wen Mingwei, or he wouldn't be able to leave the house today. "I have to go on a business trip to Renzhou." He rescued himself from Wen Mingwei’s "net" and went to the closet to pick out a suit. After changing, he looked back to see Wen Mingwei still sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him—as if he hadn't looked away for a second, reluctant to part even before he had left.

Are all couples this inseparable? Or was Wen Mingwei just particularly clingy?

Tan Zhao’s heart, filled with satisfaction since last night, felt like a balloon about to burst, making him feel light, as if he were weightless. He suddenly felt that the word "love" had grown too large for his body to contain and that he needed to find an opportunity to blurt it out. It was all Wen Mingwei’s fault for saying things like "I don't mind if you don't respond." He didn't seem to understand that someone who gives too much of themselves risks being looked down upon and taken for granted.

"Wen Mingwei, do you know," Tan Zhao suddenly walked over, cupping that face which was staring at him, and said in a teasing tone, "if you’re this clingy, it’s very easy for me to abandon you."

"..."

Wen Mingwei was slightly startled, then actually smiled. "Is that so?"

Tan Zhao frowned. "What are you laughing at? Aren't you afraid?"

The beautiful face in his hands was firmly under his control, and he left a distinct mark on the skin, which was so pale it was almost translucent. Wen Mingwei looked up at him, his calm eyes like deep water. The expression in that instant was indescribable.

"I’m afraid."

His parted lips slowly uttered a sound of submission. "Don't abandon me."

Tan Zhao’s heart exploded instantly; the balloon had burst. His hands tightened, and fireworks seemed to flash before his eyes—an indescribable, spiritual climax. He knew he hadn't yet reached the height where he could truly conquer Wen Mingwei, yet even so, Wen Mingwei bowed his head, obsessively loving him without asking for anything in return.

"Fine, I promise." He feigned calmness and pulled Wen Mingwei’s chin over to plant a kiss. "I won't abandon you."

Wen Mingwei smiled, compliantly being kissed for a few seconds, like a well-soothed cat, perfectly obedient to its master.

"..." The moment Tan Zhao thought of himself as the master, the fireworks in his mind went off for another few rounds. He almost couldn't resist exercising his master’s power right then and there. It was a waste that he had once called himself asexual; it turned out all those years of abstinence had been saved up for today.

After one last lingering kiss, Tan Zhao finally—reluctantly, or rather, with Wen Mingwei refusing to let him go—left for his business trip.

**

Tan Zhao’s trip to Renzhou was to inspect the construction of the Renzhou Bridge. It was mainly to meet with local officials, and he would be back in a few days. He made it sound easy, but Wen Mingwei believed the situation was unclear, as if a hand belonging to someone unknown had suddenly reached out from the shadows. Renzhou was not as safe as Xijing, so he needed to send a group of men to protect him.

This was also a way of loving, Tan Zhao understood.

They were separated for three days. It wasn't as if they hadn't been apart before, but these three days felt like years. Whenever Tan Zhao had a spare moment, he couldn't help but check his phone to see if there were any messages from Wen Mingwei. Sometimes there were, sometimes there weren't. When there weren't, he couldn't bear the disappointment and would take the initiative to ask, "What are you busy with? Why aren't you checking in on me?"

Wen Mingwei’s answers were nothing more than "reading," "painting," or "just took a nap"—nothing new.

Tan Zhao was very arrogant: "Are those things more important than me?"

Wen Mingwei: "No. But it’s hard for me when you’re not here; I have to find something to do."

His disappointment was instantly smoothed away, and his heart was filled to the brim again. He felt himself becoming a vessel for happiness, watching it fill until it overflowed—unable to control it, unable to refuse it. But who would refuse happiness? The more, the better.

At night, Tan Zhao returned to his hotel and video-called Wen Mingwei. The most advanced communication technology allowed for holographic projections, but it required specific equipment, and the effect on a mobile phone wasn't as good. They stuck to regular video calls. Wen Mingwei, wrapped in a bathrobe, appeared on the screen, walking from the bathroom door to the bed. His wet, long hair dripped water, and some droplets accidentally landed on the camera lens. It felt as if the screen could transmit scents, and that water was the fragrance of his shampoo.

Tan Zhao suppressed the strange hallucination, suspecting that he was being controlled by hormones and that his body was suffering the side effects of finally "tasting meat." Otherwise, how could he be unable to restrain himself, wanting to exercise his master’s power again?

He endured for a few minutes, wondering why he was even bothering, and unsurprisingly, he failed. He took the initiative to propose "doing that" over the video call. Wen Mingwei seemed like he would never be shy; he agreed to everything, lying down cooperatively and adjusting the camera to a suitable angle. From start to finish, he was very natural, not deliberately suppressing his voice; perhaps he was even doing it on purpose, letting every sound reach him clearly, his eyes fixed on him, hidden smiles in his gaze.

When he was too cooperative, it seemed he was too much in control, and it became hard to tell who was the cat and who was the master. But in the heat of the moment, he couldn't worry about that. Listening to his voice as he reached his release, Tan Zhao felt satisfied, yet he resented the coldness of the phone—it couldn't transmit his body heat. It didn't soothe his longing; it only made him more sleepless.

They didn't hang up until late at night. After saying "goodnight" to each other, Wen Mingwei went to take another shower. His hair wasn't quite dry, but he took the hairdryer himself, a rare occurrence, and combed through it while drying. He finished patiently despite his drowsiness, returned to bed, and turned off the lights.

He had been having frequent nightmares these past few days. Even though he didn't believe the lead about the package was real, his emotions were affected—he had dreamed for two days in a row of Jian Qingzheng’s funeral, only for that person to crawl out of the coffin and say to him, "Mingwei, I sent you a photo. Did you receive it?"

In the dream, Wen Mingwei didn't answer.

Jian Qingzheng held his hands, his eyes filled with tears. "You have a new love, and you don't like me anymore?"

"..."

"You were never as gentle with me as you are with him. I’m so jealous, Mingwei."

This wasn't something Jian Qingzheng would say, but he felt so real in the dream. Wen Mingwei’s hands were pinned down, unable to struggle free; it was as if he were wearing handcuffs, and Jian Qingzheng was trying to lock him inside the coffin.