Chapter 51: The Lion (11)

Wen Mingzhe had "died" once nine years ago, and after being caught off guard again recently in Pubang, he had nearly capsized. His vigilance was now more than doubled, making it no easy task to trap him again.

However, if there was an opportunity to trick him into gaining his trust, things would become much simpler.

Playing along to beat him at his own game was a good idea. Wen Mingzhe felt there was nothing wrong with it and asked Tan Zhao, "How do you plan to reply?"

"We can't be too cooperative right off the bat, or it will look fake," Tan Zhao said. "I should be cautious, playing hard to get, and make him take the initiative to win me over."

Wen Mingzhe let out a chuckle, savoring his phrasing. "Playing hard to get. You're right."

The two of them left the window and walked over to the bed. Wen Mingzhe took off his ring and placed it on the nightstand, right where his medication used to be kept. Since he hadn't been taking his medicine lately, Gu Jing had taken it all away and disposed of it.

Tan Zhao followed suit, taking off his own ring and placing it beside Wen Mingzhe's. The patterns on the bands merged into the shape of a mask—the symbol of Dionysus that Wen Mingzhe had given him back then.

Tan Zhao gazed at the "mask" for a few moments, then put the ring back on.

—He hadn't worn it for some time, and only dug it out from the bottom of the box now that their relationship had thawed.

Tan Zhao stroked his own finger and asked, "Does Wen Mingzhe have any weaknesses?"

"Weaknesses?" Wen Mingzhe thought for a moment and said, "Arrogance, megalomania, a fondness for flattery, and... an exceptionally high sense of entitlement. So, he's actually very easy to fool."

"How so?" Tan Zhao didn't quite understand.

Wen Mingzhe explained, "Simply put, ordinary people know what they deserve and what they don't. If a pie suddenly falls from the sky or someone shows unprovoked goodwill, they feel a bit uneasy and can't help wondering 'why.' But he doesn't. He feels it's only natural, because he is of noble birth, extraordinary, and inherently deserves everything. Those who choose him are wise birds picking the right tree to perch on, while those who don't are simply blind to Mount Tai."

With a cynical laugh, Wen Mingzhe added, "He's definitely restrained himself a lot by now, but a leopard never changes its spots. Be careful with your tactics when interacting with him."

Tan Zhao nodded. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled Wen Mingzhe onto his lap and said, "I'll let you see the messages first. You tell me if they look appropriate before I reply."

"..."

Saying this to avoid suspicion, his expression—pretending to be casual yet laced with a trace of bitterness and awkwardness—shifted away the moment Wen Mingzhe gave him a scrutinizing look, impossible to completely conceal.

Wen Mingzhe knew what he wanted to hear; it was nothing more than an explicit reassurance of trust. It wasn't that he couldn't give it, but the more aggrieved Tan Zhao looked, the less Wen Mingzhe wanted to respond. He pinched Tan Zhao's jaw and said, "You're so submissive now. Aren't you going to argue with me?"

"I'll have plenty of chances to argue in the future."

"Oh? For example, what kind of chances?"

"The day you fall in love with me, I'll make sure you can't resist at all."

Wen Mingzhe burst out laughing, a rare, indescribable delight surfacing across his usually cold face, as if this were a joke that particularly amused him. "I'm not resisting right now. Do whatever you want with me, how about that?"

"Really?"

"Mhm."

With a rising inflection at the end of the monosyllable, Wen Mingzhe was pressed back against the headboard. Clearly, they hadn't even finished discussing business, yet the atmosphere changed uncontrollably.

His eyes were bound with gauze, and his lips sealed with tape—Tan Zhao must have learned it from somewhere—while his hands were tied to the top of the headboard with a necktie. During the act, Tan Zhao choked his neck from time to time. Unable to make a single sound and gasping for insufficient oxygen through his nose, Wen Mingzhe was enveloped for almost the entire duration by a suffocating sense of oppression. Physiological tears pooled in his eye sockets, dampening his eyelashes and the gauze, trickling from the corners of his eyes into his temples. He trembled incessantly, wanting to call out to Tan Zhao, but unable to utter a sound.

His long hair was a hindrance; beautiful as it was, it kept getting pinned underneath and pulling painfully.

Tan Zhao swept it to one side for him, but it got disheveled again when they shifted positions, sprawling unruly across his back, sliding down with the tremors of his body, slick with damp sweat, which Tan Zhao grasped in his hand to toy with and grip tightly.

Though somewhat difficult to endure, it wasn't quite painful. Tan Zhao wasn't intentionally torturing him; rather, he was reveling in the sensation of being able to do whatever he pleased with him.

At the peak of his excitement, Tan Zhao kissed him through the tape. After kissing for a while, he used his teeth to peel back the edge of the tape bit by bit. Before fresh air could rush in, Tan Zhao's tongue forced its way between his lips and teeth, sealing him up tight all over again.

The reply to Wen Mingzhe was sent at that exact moment.

Before they were even finished, Tan Zhao whipped out his phone right then and there, pulled off the blindfold over Wen Mingzhe's eyes, showed him the lines of text popping up on the screen one by one, and asked, "Is this reply okay?"

Wen Mingzhe saw it clearly. The sentence nothing special—just as they had discussed earlier, a tactical, playing-hard-to-get response conveying unfamiliarity, distrust, and the belief that contact was unnecessary.

Yet, caught in the throes of pleasure, seeing clearly was almost like not seeing at all. Tan Zhao guided Wen Mingzhe's finger to press "Send," tossed the phone aside, and resumed kissing him.

Scarcely a few minutes later, the phone buzzed nearby with the chime of a new email.

Tan Zhao retrieved the phone while continuing his movements. A rush of white washed over Wen Mingzhe's vision; as the email contents unfolded before his eyes, the familiar words seemed like some alien language skimming across his retina, and he didn't retain a single word.

Yet Tan Zhao, pressing close to his ear, asked, "How should I reply now?"

"..."

His low, husky voice breathed out hot air, matching the uninterrupted deep thrusts below. Tingling sensations rippled through Wen Mingzhe's entire body, bringing a rare sense of losing control. Tan Zhao seemed to be doing it on purpose, stripping away his rationality through intense physiological sensations to manipulate him.

Yet he hid nothing; if Wen Mingzhe couldn't see clearly, he made him look at it a few more times until he did.

Finding it almost unbearable and defying his physiological instincts, Wen Mingzhe forcefully broke free from his bound wrists and shoved Tan Zhao away.

Yet he was subdued immediately. The intrusion that had just been forced to leave plowed back into his mental world once more, storming the gates with an aggressive momentum meant to shatter his will. At the height of his unbearable distress, he kicked out at Tan Zhao, but his ankle was instantly seized and hoisted high. Looking thoroughly satisfied, Tan Zhao pressed close to him and said, "Wasn't it you who said earlier that you wouldn't resist and that I could do whatever I wanted?"

"..."

Wen Mingzhe had completely forgotten those words. Not yet finished, Tan Zhao proceeded to send emails right before his eyes. After sending about three, he finally stopped and announced, "I'm going to pretend to hesitate, leave him hanging for a few days, put on a grand front, and only then say yes."

Distressed yet amused, Wen Mingzhe said, "Fine. You'd better cast a long fishing line."

"How long?"

"To sound out his bottom line overseas, find out the extent of his development, and see if he's colluding with anyone."

Wen Mingzhe added, "Since we've already done all this, we might as well uproot his entire den."

Tan Zhao thought about it. "Then I'll need to have more interactions with him and get in-depth contact."

"Of course. Would he trust you without in-depth contact?"

Maintaining his composure after all, Wen Mingzhe pulled himself back from the brink of losing control and hooked his arm around Tan Zhao's neck. "Take your time. Don't rush."

Whether Tan Zhao was in a rush when it came to business was hard to say, but his patience in bed was boundless. Seizing this rare opportunity to act as he pleased, he refused to stop until he had pushed Wen Mingzhe to the verge of collapse.

By the time it was over, a long while had passed. Wen Mingzhe was carried into the bathroom to be cleaned up. His lower body was submerged in the bathtub, his long hair floating on the water's surface, too exhausted to keep his eyes open.

Throughout the entire bathing process, his mind was blank, and Tan Zhao remained silent.

Logically speaking, people in love shouldn't date the way they did; they ought to chat and communicate their feelings—things like "How was I just now?", "Which position do you like?", or "Did you feel uncomfortable or have any other thoughts?" But that capacity, common to ordinary couples, was sorely lacking between them. Sitting in mute opposition, the atmosphere was somewhat subtle.

After washing up, they returned to bed and lay down together. Just as Wen Mingzhe was drifting off to sleep, Tan Zhao asked, "Can we do this again next time?"

Wen Mingzhe gave no response, as if he hadn't heard.

Answering his own question, Tan Zhao murmured, "I know. Not refusing means you liked it."

"..."

Wen Mingzhe finally managed a faint smile, remarking ambiguously, "It was alright."