Thinking back on it afterward, it was a sheer stroke of luck that the two of them were driving that reinforced Maybach that day.

When the two vehicles collided, Jing Hong felt the world spin and tilt violently before his eyes. His body defied inertia as the airbags deployed all at once. But once he calmed down a bit, he realized he seemed to be largely unharmed, free of any serious injury.

He immediately turned to look at Zhou Chang, only to find Zhou Chang struggling to open his eyes as well, trying hard to focus his hazy gaze.

Because he had angled his side of the car into the impact, Zhou Chang’s side had absorbed a heavier, far more violent shock. His dark eyes met Jing Hong’s, and Jing Hong shook his head slightly—signaling that he was fine.

As people in the distance began to cluster around the scene, the two could do nothing, simply looking deep into each other’s intense eyes.

Zhou Chang then turned his gaze back to the front, letting out a long, heavy breath as a sudden wave of lethargy washed over him. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he pulled it off, tugged at the door latch, and was surprised to find that the door could still be opened.

This custom “extra reinforcement” was truly no empty claim.

Zhou Chang pushed the door open and stepped out. Jing Hong pulled back his gaze, opened his side of the door, lightly caught the tips of Zhou Chang’s extended left fingers, and stepped out onto the street.

The SUV opposite them was in significantly worse shape—its front end was completely crumpled, and a figure lay slumped over the steering wheel.

Standing on the curb, Zhou Chang scanned Jing Hong up and down with his eyes, while Jing Hong did the exact same in return, confirming that both were perfectly sound.

Then, Zhou Chang pulled out his phone and dialed the police.

Hanging up, despite the growing crowd of onlookers, Zhou Chang still pulled Jing Hong’s arm into a tight, forceful squeeze.

The two locked eyes once again for a few lingering seconds.

They longed to hold each other tight, to kiss with wild abandon, but at this moment, it was impossible.

The police arrived exceedingly fast.

In the meantime, social media platforms had already erupted into complete chaos:

[Milky Way Galaxy Leader]: XXX Road in Beijing! A Maybach just got into a car crash!!! [Image]

[Discovering New Idiots Anytime Anywhere]: Word is that vehicle belongs to Zhou Chang…

[Jinjiang Ultimate Alpha]: Holy shit, Zhou Chang’s car!!! Is everyone okay? Are they okay??? That’s terrifying!!!

[Detective Bearlock Holmes]: Breaking News… No way… Are we about to witness history again… This is kind of scary…

[The Quietest Person in the Whole World Hahahahaha]: Update from the front line!!! The person who stepped out of the car really IS Zhou Chang!!! He looks completely fine!!!

[Cilantro is Truly Delicious]: The person riding with him… looks like Jing Hong!!!

[Account Flagged for Stirring Gender Conflict Please Block]: Holy shit!!!

[Goat Village Bking Ba Yangyang]: Holy shit!!! The two of them were in the SAME car???

[#1 Meal Eater in Kindergarten]: Jing Hong is fine too!!! Both of them walked over to the curb and were talking while waiting for the police—they didn’t even go to the hospital!!!

[Jinjiang Anti-Porn Squad Captain]: I found the specs on this car! It’s Zhou Buqun’s custom vehicle—bulletproof, blast-resistant, reinforced top to bottom!!!

[Lin Daiyu Takes Tiger Mountain by Strategy]: That saved both of them…

[Omega and Juliet]: Was it a pure accident, or…?

The police arrived incredibly fast, and so did the ambulance. When the driver of the SUV was pulled out, Jing Hong watched from a distance and thought it looked like a woman, her long black hair hanging down.

Even though they were unharmed, Jing Hong and Zhou Chang still went to the hospital for a thorough checkup.

As the doctors were running tests, Jing Haiping and Jiang Mei came rushing into the hospital room in a flurry. Jing Hong’s mother scanned and touched her son up and down to confirm he was safe and healthy, exclaiming, “How on earth could something like this happen!”

Jing Hong said calmly, “It was likely just an accident. I’m completely fine.”

“President Jing, President Jiang,” Zhou Chang greeted them with flawless composure. “I’ll step outside for a bit. You three have a good chat as a family.”

Jing Hong looked at Zhou Chang and gave a subtle nod.

Jing Haiping grumbled softly first: “Why were you riding in his car in the first place?!”

“…” Jing Hong kept a straight face. “We ran into each other at the forum, stumbled onto some ideas, and discussed a potential collaboration. We didn’t finish, so we continued talking on the ride back—that’s all.”

“Talk about collaborations in the office, or over drinks,” Jing Haiping said, still displeased, feeling that Zhou Chang had dragged his son into danger. “What’s there to discuss inside a car?”

Jing Hong remained silent.

“Sigh,” but then Jing Haiping’s complaints shifted to relief. “Still, it’s a good thing Zhou Buqun is so flashy—reinforcing the whole car into a bulletproof and blast-resistant fortress.”

“…” Jing Hong said, “Mm.”

Jing Hong felt that even without the extra reinforcement, nothing severe would have happened; the other car’s speed wasn’t particularly fast, and the driver had clearly hesitated.

“This custom job was worth every penny,” Jing Haiping sighed again. “His first custom car was a custom Bentley. Bentley specially repainted the body for Zhou Buqun, customizing it to his exact specs—one side of the car had ‘Zhou’ painted on it, and the other side had ‘Zhou Tiger’.”

Jing Hong: “…”

“That’s terrifying,” Jiang Mei said. “What kind of tacky CEO style is that?”

After a pause, Jiang Mei asked, “Are the checks done? Can we head home now?”

Jing Hong nodded. “Done. We can.”

When they stepped out of the room, Zhou Chang was still waiting at the door—Zhou Buqun and his wife were currently soaking in hot springs abroad and couldn’t fly back immediately. In truth, Zhou Chang felt there was no need for them to rush back anyway.

Jing Hong shifted his gaze toward Zhou Chang, and Zhou Chang stared right back at Jing Hong.

As Jing Hong walked past, their gazes remained locked, shifting smoothly with every step. When their shoulders brushed, Jing Hong gave a slight nod and said, “Thank you, President Zhou. I’ll be heading back with my parents first.”

Zhou Chang nodded back. “Alright.”

Their thick, sticky gazes seemed to pull into lingering threads of light, breaking only when Jing Hong turned his head to follow his parents forward with long strides.

After taking a few steps, lingering behind, Jing Hong sent Zhou Chang a text: [I’m going back to my parents’ place tonight. See you tomorrow at five.]

Zhou Chang replied: [Alright.]

Looking at his parents’ backs, Jing Hong licked his lips and sent Zhou Chang another line: [I love you.]

Zhou Chang replied: [I love you too.]

“…” Jing Hong tucked his phone away, suddenly recalling a conversation they had a while back.

It was probably around April, right when they first “got together.”

At the time, they were watching a TV program where people were promising to “love each other for a lifetime.” Jing Hong had immediately let out a light chuckle, saying, “‘Love for a lifetime’—easier said than done.”

Zhou Chang had looked at him and asked, “What about you then?”

With his wrist resting on his knee, Jing Hong had said, “I love you right now. But I don’t know about decades from now. I don’t know if I’ll still love you in a few decades, just like I don’t know if Fanhai will still exist in a few decades.”

At the time, Zhou Chang had sighed, “You really…”

“Can you make that promise?” Jing Hong had asked. “You’re not that kind of person either.”

“I can,” Zhou Chang had looked closely at Jing Hong, speaking with absolute certainty. “I can. Certain things are worth spending a lifetime to study. The more you study, the richer the taste becomes, and the more delight you find in it.”

Hearing that answer, Jing Hong had stayed silent.

But now, in that split second when he had instinctively reached out his hand wanting to protect Zhou Chang, Jing Hong suddenly felt certain: this kind of emotion was a once-in-a-lifetime deal for him—it was impossible to ever give it to a second person. Besides, how could it be so easily extinguished?

He continuously drew him in.

Growing more mature, more powerful, using various subtle details to endlessly showcase those qualities that fascinated and drove him wild, to a degree that only ran deeper by the day. He couldn’t even bear to look away.

Such explicit, unmistakable “love.”

After arriving home that night, Jing Hong didn’t handle any work, nor did he contact Zhou Chang. He simply spent time with his parents, discussing the industry, talking about Fanhai, and sharing ordinary, cozy banter.

His parents had been badly shaken as well.

In between, the police contacted him and Zhou Chang to share some details of the case.

Sure enough, it hadn’t been a pure accident.

Yet Jing Hong didn’t tell his parents, letting Jing Haiping continue to believe the collision was merely a routine traffic mishap.

The next day, Jing Hong went to Fanhai as usual. During meetings, he answered a few questions about yesterday’s crash. As for “why he was in the car,” he stuck to the same script: “We ran into each other at the forum, stumbled onto some ideas, and discussed a potential collaboration. We didn’t finish, so we continued talking on the ride back—that’s all.”

No one suspected a thing.

If not that, what else could it possibly be?

That evening, Jing Hong left Fanhai early and headed straight to Zhou Chang’s place.

The moment he stepped through the door, they fell into a frantic, wild embrace, kissing with desperate passion.

Their tongues grew completely numb, and wet sounds echoed from deep in their throats, as if trying to melt each other directly into their blood and bones.

They stood at the doorway, kissing endlessly—one wrapping his arms around the other’s lower back, the other clasping his lover’s neck and running his fingers through that familiar dark hair. They kissed continuously, pausing only briefly to rest and gaze into each other’s eyes before diving back into another fiery, frantic kiss.

It went on for a long, long time, until the sunset outside faded into a warm, dim haze indoors, and their kisses finally turned tender and deep.

Moist, lingering, and inextricably intertwined.

Impossible to part.

Yesterday, in that crucial, split-second choice, both had seen the other’s true heart with absolute clarity.

After an unmeasurable stretch of time, Zhou Chang asked Jing Hong, “…Shall we shower separately?”

Still holding him close, Jing Hong said, “…Mm.”

When they met again wrapped in bathrobes, Jing Hong and Zhou Chang kissed once more.

As the kiss deepened, both parted the hems of their bathrobes and let go, allowing the two sides of fabric to drape back down, shrouding them together as their bodies rubbed together with unrestrained desire.

Then, Jing Hong pressed down on Zhou Chang’s shoulders, bringing him to a half-kneeling position. Gripping Zhou Chang’s hair, he moved with fierce intensity, filling his lover’s throat.

Twenty minutes later, they swapped positions.

And after that, they tumbled onto the carpet together.

They were in the second-floor atrium, right beside that indoor tree.

Their bodies intertwined like two numbers. This time, Jing Hong fit entirely against the curve running from the tip of Zhou Chang’s tongue down into his throat. Resting on top, Jing Hong breathed heavily, thrusting with fierce power.

Perhaps due to yesterday’s accident, or perhaps due to the intense atmosphere right now, in the moment when Zhou Chang leaned over him, a fleeting urge crossed Jing Hong’s mind to take Zhou Chang instead. Yet when he looked into Zhou Chang’s desire-filled eyes and felt his desperate urgency, Jing Hong’s heart softened, and he let it go.

Then, from the atrium, they moved into the bedroom.

Jing Hong was by no means light—in fact, due to his high muscle mass, he weighed significantly more than most people of his height and build. Yet Jing Hong had never imagined that Zhou Chang could gather him up into a bundle, effortlessly carrying him into the bedroom before tossing him onto the bed.

Once again, Jing Hong was amazed by Zhou Chang’s full-body strength.

Soon after, Zhou Chang’s formidable core strength proved his point all over again.

Two hours later, after taking another shower, Jing Hong leaned lazily against the headboard.

“Jing Hong,” Zhou Chang suddenly turned over, pulled a velvet box from the drawer, opened it, and held up a delicate ring, asking, “Try this on and see if it fits?”

“…” Jing Hong looked closely at it, letting out a light laugh. “Doesn’t the U.S. abide by the rule that an engagement ring should cost three months of the buyer’s pre-tax income? Does mine meet that standard?”

Zhou Chang said, “If we only count base salary, it’s about right. Though no matter how fine or expensive it is, you probably wouldn’t care for it anyway. Idol dramas always make a grand spectacle out of ‘diamond rings,’ but I never expected that regardless of a ring’s value, my partner wouldn’t care at all.”

Jing Hong smiled, extending his hand with fingers pointed up and palm facing out: “Bring it on.”

Zhou Chang slipped the ring onto his finger.

Jing Hong flipped his hand over—palm up this time—and asked Zhou Chang, “Where’s yours? Let me put it on for Little President Zhou too.”

Zhou Chang kept his eyes on him as he handed over the ring box.

Both were simple, elegant men’s bands—two relatively wide rings whose diamond sizes were far from ostentatious, embodying a low-key, reserved sophistication instead. Each band was split horizontally across the middle: the upper half featured a full row of paved blue diamond accents, while the lower half held a matching row of paved white diamond accents. Set side by side within the inner band, the two colors sparkled together, that vibrant blue resembling the deep ocean.

Zhou Chang’s ring was identical in design, except the blue diamond accents were replaced with rich red diamond accents.

Engraved inside one was “JH,” and inside the other was “ZC”—the initials of their respective names.

After slipping the ring onto Zhou Chang’s finger, Jing Hong suddenly recalled the long-standing rumor about their “fire and water” incompatibility. He let out a soft laugh and asked Zhou Chang, “Have you heard the rumors outside that Jing Hong and Zhou Chang are ‘as incompatible as fire and water’? One is water, one is fire—forever unable to mix.”

Zhou Chang gave a dry chuckle: “I’ve heard it.”

“In truth,” Jing Hong spread his palm, unconsciously turning the ring that symbolized “water,” and added, “the phrase ‘incompatible as fire and water’ is outdated. Fire and water are merely ‘difficult to combine’—you can’t say ‘incompatible.’ That four-character idiom was limited by the cognitive understanding of the ancients.”

“Mm.” Zhou Chang looked at Jing Hong, knowing where he was going with this, and followed along: “Back then, people didn’t realize that fire and water could actually coexist—so long as there is an intense, unquenchable accelerant.”

“Exactly,” Jing Hong said. “Take methane, ethane, propane, or butane, for instance. With those accelerants, even underwater can ignite into roaring flames—spreading rapidly, out of control, setting the very water ablaze.”

“Then I wonder,” Zhou Chang said again, “between Jing Hong and Zhou Chang, what is that accelerant?”

The ring stopped spinning. Jing Hong met Zhou Chang’s eyes, cupped his chin, and leaned across his neck.

As their four lips brushed together gently, Jing Hong said, “Love, of course. My dear Little President Zhou.”