WRA CH19

Chapter 19: Didn’t You Say You’d Compensate Me with a Kiss?

Xiang Zhen had added almost everyone in the company on WeChat. Being in the same work group, people had naturally sent him friend requests. Last time, when the belle of the sales department posted a photo of her boyfriend on Moments for the first time with the caption “Please guide me for the rest of our lives,” at least thirty-eight mutual friends had liked it.

“Is it because I didn’t post Zhou Sicheng’s photo?”

Failing to receive his colleagues’ blessings left Xiang Zhen a little downcast. Usually, even a random picture of a pastry he posted would fetch a dozen likes.

On second thought, however, maybe it was just because everyone already knew he had a husband; since it wasn’t breaking news, there was no reason to leave a like.

At 11:20 PM, Xiang Zhen received a message notifying him that Zhou Sicheng’s flight had taken off.

The plane wouldn’t touch down until 2:30 AM. In truth, Zhou Sicheng could have opted for a morning flight the following day. But having been away on business for five days, by cramming his schedule together, he had carved out a weekend to stay home and keep Xiang Zhen company.

Over those five days, Xiang Zhen had eaten terribly. With all his business engagements wrapped up, Zhou Sicheng relaxed in his seat on the plane, passing the time by watching cooking tutorial videos.

Before shutting his eyes to sleep, Secretary Gao glanced over at the President, who was studying culinary skills with great vigor: “…”

He had assumed that the President had slammed the laptop shut in such a flustered hurry earlier because he was watching that kind of cooking video.

At the thought of soon hugging and kissing Xiang Zhen, Zhou Sicheng didn’t feel the least bit sleepy. To keep his identity hidden, Zhou Sicheng hadn’t had a single video call with Xiang Zhen over the past five days. Being out of town, he only just realized that he didn’t even have a single photo of Xiang Zhen saved on his phone.

Living side-by-side day in and day out, the thought of taking pictures had never crossed his mind.

Asking for photos now, on the other hand, would make him look like a creepy pervert.

Past midnight, e-commerce’s busiest hour arrived.

Xiang Zhen couldn’t fathom why selling nuts had to be split into a deposit and a balance payment, not to mention the complicated coupons attached to the deposit. Customers who found themselves unable to apply coupons at checkout cursed in fury.

Xiang Zhen had only studied addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, and basic arithmetic operations for a handful of lessons, remaining completely illiterate in advanced calculus, geometry, and algebra. At first, he had been quite anxious—convinced that mastering math and science was essential to navigate the world, he had even followed five celebrity calculus tutors online to teach himself. Later, he realized none of it was needed at all!

With simple addition and subtraction, Xiang Zhen effortlessly computed the exact sums for the customers.

Feng Chujun paced through several departments. Rather than keeping an eye on the livestream studio, he lingered around customer service for an extended period.

Xiang Zhen sat by the window. Being the first to spot Feng Chujun each time, he gave a soft cough to warn Yu Yueyue to put away her phone.

Yu Yueyue: “Why are you so obedient? Listening to the homeroom teacher at school, and listening to the boss at work.”

Yu Yueyue had a fiery temper. As a local only child, working was merely a pastime for her. Previously, because her colleagues were easy to get along with, she hadn’t let her temper loose; but ever since surveillance cameras were installed, she had been deliberately slacking off while waiting to be laid off.

Xiang Zhen: “I’ve never been to school.”

Yu Yueyue sighed. People who had never been to school were truly easy to deceive. A stingy guy goes away on a business trip, vanishes all day, and only remembers past eleven at night to scrimp out a measly 52-yuan red envelope—who was he trying to dismiss, a beggar?

In comparison, even Feng Chujun—who had ordered a 520-yuan KFC late-night spread for them—looked remarkably decent.

She knew very well why Feng Chujun kept loitering around here tonight: because Xiang Zhen’s husband wasn’t at home.

Seeing Yu Yueyue glued to web novels, Xiang Zhen grew curious: “What are you reading? Could you recommend something to me?”

Zhou Sicheng wouldn’t let him browse short-video apps, and long drama series required paid memberships. Xiang Zhen intended to read web novels instead; he could just read the free chapters and pay for the rest later once he made some money.

Besides, Yu Yueyue had impeccable taste—the videos by Sister Li she had liked were packed with solid insights. If not for her, Xiang Zhen still wouldn’t know that his husband was an S.

Yu Yueyue: “No way, you can’t read this.”

After that line, Yu Yueyue never unlocked her phone again, proving more effective than Feng Chujun patrolling the room eight hundred times.

1:00 AM.

The customer service department clocked out. Liu Xiaofang wasn’t on shift today, so Xiang Zhen and Yu Yueyue walked out together.

Feng Chujun appeared with his hands tucked into his pockets: “Thanks for the hard work, everyone. Let me drive you home.”

Saying that, he pulled out a car key, twirling the ring around his index finger.

Xiang Zhen had plenty of grievances about his exploitation of the customer service staff. Yet today, only Feng Chujun had liked the post about his husband’s red envelope. Returning courtesy for courtesy, Xiang Zhen’s eyes curved in a smile: “No need, Yueyue and I are heading in different directions. Just driving Yueyue will do!”

Feng Chujun: “Then I’ll drop her off first and take you after.”

Previously, he had always assumed that an attractive guy like Xiang Zhen must be seeing a wealthy big boss. Before figuring out the rival’s background, Feng Chujun hadn’t dared to act recklessly. But today, he had seen Xiang Zhen’s Moments post.

Heh, just an impoverished pauper who sends a pathetic 52-yuan red envelope to his wife on a holiday.

He was rich and generous, and held the geographical advantage. How could that man possibly compete with him?

He only needed to display his thoughtfulness and generosity to drag the other man through the mud, and Xiang Zhen would realize who the superior choice was.

Nobody was an idiot. After receiving a pauper’s 52-yuan red envelope, Xiang Zhen’s attitude toward him had noticeably softened.

Xiang Zhen noticed the key in Feng Chujun’s hand: “What do you drive?”

Feng Chujun: “A Ferrari.”

Xiang Zhen: “A gas car? Gas is very expensive. Mr. Feng, if you really feel working night shifts is hard on us, reimbursing our taxi fare will do.”

Feng Chujun: “…”

Yu Yueyue chimed in: “Yeah, exactly! Just reimburse our cab fare. Driving us back and forth will eat up the whole night, and we won’t even get any sleep.”

She was under no obligation to defend Xiang Zhen’s romance with a cheapskate, but Feng Chujun was no saint either, swinging both ways while abroad. Having Xiang Zhen deceived by one person was still better than having him deceived by two.

With a twitching grimace, Feng Chujun sent 53 yuan each to Yu Yueyue and Xiang Zhen via QR code. “Then I’ll head out first.”

Yu Yueyue began hailing a ride, accidentally tapping the wrong app and opening a web novel page.

Xiang Zhen didn’t need to hail a cab; he planned to jog back once Yueyue got into her ride. His gaze inadvertently caught the title of his colleague’s novel:

A Straight Guy Falls for an S but Fears the Pain [S/M]

Whoa—!

So Yu Yueyue had not only video materials, but novel literature as well—she just wasn’t willing to share!

“Zhenzhen, I’m heading out.”

“Bye-bye.”

Xiang Zhen memorized the title and bounced in place to warm up. Suddenly, a car pulled up right in front of him.

Feng Chujun rolled down the window: “Still haven’t caught a cab? Let me give you a ride. It’s only three or four kilometers, don’t decline.”

Xiang Zhen thought for a second. “Alright then, thank you.”

He opened the door and bent down to get in. Feng Chujun’s car had low chassis clearance, cramped space, and a loud engine—nowhere near as comfortable as Zhou Sicheng’s car.

Speaking of which, could his husband’s car still be fixed?

The streets were deserted in the middle of the night. Feng Chujun slammed on the accelerator; the Ferrari let out a roar, only to brake violently at a red light.

Instantaneous acceleration naturally sent heart rates soaring. Out of the corner of his eye, Feng Chujun watched Xiang Zhen; manufacturing the suspension bridge effect was his foolproof secret for chasing partners.

Clutching his seatbelt, Xiang Zhen thought to himself that Feng Chujun’s driving skills were abysmal—he couldn’t even maintain a steady speed over a three-kilometer stretch. Zhou Sicheng never drove like this.

Xiang Zhen suddenly missed his husband terribly.

Arriving at the entrance of the residential compound, Xiang Zhen unbuckled his seatbelt: “Thank you.”

Feng Chujun suddenly spoke up: “I need to use the restroom, do you mind? There don’t seem to be any public restrooms around here.”

Just as Xiang Zhen was about to agree, someone tapped on the car window. Turning around, he saw Ye Yun’s large face.

Ye Yun was slapping the window frantically as if a ghost were lurking outside—naturally, this too was on President Zhou’s orders.

“Xiang Zhen! You just got off work too? The captain and I are heading out for barbecue skewers, come join us!” He acted as if he had only just noticed Feng Chujun: “Are you Xiang Zhen’s colleague? Come along too! I live right next door to Xiang Zhen, separated by just a wooden partition wall—zero soundproofing, practically no different from cohabitation.”

Xiang Zhen felt slightly confused; last time Ye Yun had clearly said the soundproofing was excellent and that he couldn’t hear a thing.

Feng Chujun smiled: “No need, I’m in a rush to get back.”

Xiang Zhen: “Are you still using the restroom?”

Feng Chujun: “I just remembered I own an apartment nearby. I won’t disturb you.”

Aboard the flight, when Zhou Sicheng received the update from Shi Ting, he had only felt a mild twinge of discomfort; an employer offering a ride after late overtime was understandable.

A minute later, however, the smartband app sent a heart-rate spike alert for Xiang Zhen. Zhou Sicheng instantly felt extreme tightness in his chest, as if suffering from high-altitude hypoxia.

Could an entry-level Ferrari ever match the comfort of a high-trim BYD?

Why had his heart rate spiked? Had he been verbally harassed?

For the first time, Zhou Sicheng felt that an away-on-business husband was just as powerless as a dead one.

Next time, he would bring Xiang Zhen along no matter what.

Zhou Sicheng deplaned at a speed akin to an emergency evacuation.

Secretary Gao once again confirmed that Zhou Sicheng had psychological trauma regarding air travel.

Zhou Sicheng’s teenage experiences were truly pitiable. Over the years, he must have been suppressing his fear of flying while shuttling between cities—simply because Zhou Qingyun never permitted him to display any sign of weakness. Over time, Zhou Sicheng had forgotten the fear himself. Now that he had found a wife who loved him, his soft underbelly was slowly showing through.

With legs slightly shorter than the President’s, Secretary Gao jogged alongside him. “President Zhou, the custom sunflower hair clip you ordered is finished and placed in the car. The trunk is also stocked with the seven desserts you promised Madame, made this afternoon with a shelf life of three days.”

The repaired BYD was quietly parked on the arrivals level.

Zhou Sicheng pulled open the driver’s side door: “I won’t be coming to the office for the next two days. Call me if anything comes up.”

…

After washing up, Xiang Zhen didn’t go straight to bed; he wanted to wait for his husband to return, and he wasn’t sleepy in the slightest.

Stacking two pillows against the wall as a backrest, he eagerly searched for the novel he had spotted on Yu Yueyue’s phone.

He wanted to understand his husband better.

Sister Li’s video explanations were rather broad and generalized, whereas literary works were far more nuanced, romantic, and soul-searching.

“Falling for an S but fearing the pain…” Xiang Zhen typed out the title, wanting to see how other comrades tackled this dilemma.

Huh—?

Why couldn’t he find it?

Xiang Zhen grew frantic. His husband was almost home; he wouldn’t be able to read it in front of Zhou Sicheng—how would that be any different from flipping through a medical treatise right in front of a patient?

[Xiang Zhen: Xiao Kui, help me find this book.]

[Xiao Kui: Sorry, I can’t help you, I’m just a baby.]

Xiang Zhen: ?

Left with no choice, he relied on his own efforts, finally tracking down the file—which turned out to be a compressed archive.

To extract it, he even purchased a membership.

He had sacrificed far too much for his husband.

Three minutes later… reading at rapid speed, before Xiang Zhen could realize what he was taking in, it was already too late.

Twenty minutes later, Xiang Zhen licked his lips. Without even looking in the mirror, he knew how flushed his face was—as red as a giant sunflower plate baking under a 38-degree Celsius sun all day!

The author wrote with extreme detail and diligence, providing thorough explanations for every term.

Forty minutes later, Xiang Zhen set his phone down in a daze.

So Zhou Sicheng was this kind of S!

He had originally thought:

Domestic abuse = Beating your wife whenever you feel like it.

S = Only beating your wife with her consent.

Turns out, you had to strip naked to take the lashings.

Xiang Zhen found this somewhat hard to accept; he had turned into a human specifically to wear clothes. Xiang Zhen felt that, just like the straight guy in the novel, he wouldn’t be able to hold back from hitting back. Then the S would grow furious, feeling a lack of trust.

The novel also claimed that the better an S was at dishing out beatings, the more sought-after they were, with people flocking to them.

Humans were truly bizarre.

Xiang Zhen finally understood why they had no sex life.

Because Zhou Sicheng was an S, and an S’s sex life was conducted like that—Zhou Sicheng simply couldn’t bring himself to do it to him.

Xiang Zhen felt his heart ache for his husband. The book stated that having S instincts in one’s genes wasn’t the husband’s fault.

His husband had been holding back this entire time.

At least Xiang Zhen hadn’t spotted any whips in that secret room, proving that Zhou Sicheng didn’t want to carry it out.

Hearing footsteps approaching the door, Xiang Zhen scrambled up, closed the novel, and dashed barefoot to open the door.

He smelled his husband’s scent!

“Hubby!”

The moment the door opened, Xiang Zhen threw himself forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Zhou Sicheng and burying his face into his shoulder.

With arms wide open, Zhou Sicheng drew a soft breath. His nose filled with that familiar, warm fragrance radiating from Xiang Zhen’s hair. After the exhaustion of travel and five nights of tossing and turning, he finally had a moment to bow his head and find rest.

Zhou Sicheng brushed his lips against Xiang Zhen’s forehead: “Let go of me first so I can put these things down.”

He too wanted to cast luggage aside regardless of consequences, simply embracing, kissing, and tumbling together. But he couldn’t—in his hands were seven boxes of cakes.

Xiang Zhen released his grip, looking down to see pastry boxes dangling from both of Zhou Sicheng’s hands, moved to the brink of tears.

Stepping into the room, Zhou Sicheng tucked the cakes into the fridge, leaving one box out on the counter. From the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he produced something resembling a ring box. “I promised to buy you a present. See if you like it.”

Xiang Zhen took it, looking up with eyes reflecting only his husband’s silhouette: “Is it a pair of matching rings?!”

Zhou Sicheng’s posture stiffened. He suddenly felt a surge of panic as Xiang Zhen prepared to open the box, dreading the disappointment he’d feel upon seeing it wasn’t a ring.

Dammit, why wasn’t it a ring?! Why was it a sunflower hair clip encrusted with a 5.5-carat fancy vivid yellow diamond!

Snap.

Xiang Zhen opened the box. Even under the modest indoor lighting, his eyes were instantly dazzled by the brilliant fire of the yellow diamond and its surrounding white diamonds. “It’s so gorgeous! Hubby, where did you buy this? You have amazing taste!”

Seeing that he wasn’t upset, Zhou Sicheng made up an excuse on the fly: “Passed by a mall, picked it up on a whim.”

Xiang Zhen: “A clip like this must cost at least thirty yuan!”

“Mn.” Minus five zeroes.

Zhou Sicheng took it out, brushed back Xiang Zhen’s long bangs with his fingers, and gently clipped them up with the sunflower pin, revealing a smooth, fair forehead and eyes that looked even larger and brighter.

Their gazes locked. Cupping Xiang Zhen’s cheeks, Zhou Sicheng pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, drifting downward across his fluttering, curled eyelashes, over the neat, rounded tip of his nose, and finally landing heavily upon those soft, rose-red lips.

Xiang Zhen abruptly pushed Zhou Sicheng away: “Hubby, I’m not ready yet.”

He wasn’t ready to hold back from hitting back.

Zhou Sicheng closed his eyes. With his first kiss derailed like this, he put on a nonchalant front: “It’s almost three in the morning, I won’t do anything. Didn’t you say you’d compensate me with a kiss (Qinqin)?”

Xiang Zhen: “Did I say that?”

Zhou Sicheng: “You did. I have proof.”

Looking at the chat logs Zhou Sicheng pulled up, Xiang Zhen argued earnestly: “Qinqin is just an address, like ‘dear’! I say that to everyone.”

Zhou Sicheng’s feigned nonchalance shattered instantly, his expression turning sour: “What do you mean, you say that to everyone?”

“It’s standard customer service lingo! Doesn’t anyone call you qinqin when you shop online…?”

As Xiang Zhen spoke, he caught sight of Zhou Sicheng’s expression—an exact match for the prelude described in the novel where an S was on the verge of erupting to administer punishments and discipline.

Zhou Sicheng drew a deep breath: “Have some cake first.”

Once Xiang Zhen was fed and happy, following up with a sweet kiss might not meet with as much resistance. Why on earth was this box wrapped so tightly, layer upon layer?

Xiang Zhen watched Zhou Sicheng unwrap the cake box and peel open disposable gloves, his movements exuding a chilly, forceful edge beneath the patient gentleness.

His husband was practicing restraint for love.

Could he really not make a single compromise?

“Hubby, if you want to whip me, can you use yardlong beans?” Xiang Zhen offered after deep contemplation, making a sacrifice.

If long green beans were used to whip a sunflower—plant striking plant—it felt somewhat acceptable. Just like in a typhoon, branches thrashing against branches, breaking, bruising, snapping amidst the chaos of a downpour—all of that was completely normal.

Besides, the custom leather whips in the novel were terribly expensive; they didn’t have that kind of money.

Wearing a frosty expression, Zhou Sicheng fed him a spoonful of ice cream cake: “So you know I want to whip you.”

Swallowing the ice cream, Xiang Zhen licked the corner of his lips: “Yardlong beans are cheap. The ones from Shandong will hit the market in huge quantities soon.”

They wouldn’t hurt; if one snapped, just toss it, and they could still be cooked and eaten afterward.

Zhou Sicheng: “You’re craving them? I’ll buy some tomorrow.”

Ordering dishes the second he got home—he really treated him like a personal chef.