Back at the banquet, Jing Hong and Zhou Chang were once again separated by Fat Peng, sharing minimal interaction between them.

The charity gala concluded right on time at 11:00 PM. Jing Hong still had plenty of work to deal with and several meetings to attend, as did Zhou Chang. Their drivers, highly professional, arrived from the lounge to collect them. Jing Hong and Zhou Chang parted ways with everyone at their table with polite social pleasantries. Finally, they exchanged a subtle, veiled glance, said nothing further, and departed separately with their respective drivers.

Peng Zheng once again assumed they didn’t get along.

By the end of the gala, total funds raised reached over 200 million yuan. Zhou Chang accounted for 30 million on his own, while Jing Hong contributed 18 million—both substantial sums.

……

Over the next two weeks, Jing Hong and Zhou Chang were each immersed in critical company projects.

Two weeks later, Jing Hong traveled to Hungary. Hungary hosted a battery-focused economic development zone. With the rising popularity of new energy vehicles, many battery manufacturers had chosen Hungary for investment and factory construction to supply the entire European market.

Fanhai was set to collaborate with a Chinese battery firm to build a new base there, named the “XX & Fanhai New Energy Vehicle Battery Industrial Base.” The partner company would handle R&D and manufacturing, while Fanhai would provide technological support for R&D, such as AI quality inspection—using computer vision systems to identify product defects, boost efficiency, and ensure quality performance.

This time, Jing Hong was attending the foundation-laying ceremony.

The ceremony itself was unremarkable, yet he unexpectedly crossed paths with Zhou Chang once again.

Jing Hong had booked the top castle hotel in Budapest. On the morning before the ceremony, however, he suddenly received a message from Zhou Chang containing a single line: 【I’m in Hungary right now too.】

“…” Jing Hong asked: 【You…?】

Jing Hong knew news of his attendance at the ceremony had already been published across various media outlets; the construction of a new battery plant was a major event.

Zhou Chang replied: 【Just looking around. I was negotiating in Germany a few days ago, and my head was about to explode. Finally signed the contract this morning, so I came over to Hungary to rest—it’s close by anyway.】

Immediately following that, Zhou Chang asked: 【What are your plans after this, President Jing?】

Jing Hong said: 【No plans to rest. Flying to San Francisco tomorrow noon.】

“Then there’s plenty of time,” Zhou Chang said. “Today happens to be a festival. There are river cruises and fireworks on the Danube. Want to check it out?”

Since Zhou Chang had come over specifically, Jing Hong pondered quietly for a moment before replying: “Sure.”

Because they had to select an auspicious hour, the foundation-laying ceremony took place in the afternoon.

After attending the ceremony, Jing Hong and his team shared a brief meal with the battery manufacturer before returning to the hotel at exactly six o’clock—the time agreed upon with Zhou Chang. He changed clothes and went down to the lobby, where he found Zhou Chang waiting for him by the fireplace. Jing Hong was staying at Budapest’s most luxurious castle hotel, and Zhou Chang was at the same venue, merely on a different floor.

Upon seeing Jing Hong, Zhou Chang asked, “Shall we take the tram over? Ever ridden a European tram?”

“No,” Jing Hong replied. “Let’s go.”

Hungary’s trams didn’t look outdated at all; instead, they were clean, modern, and attractive.

The two bought tickets, walked to the back, and sat down. The tram carried them down Budapest’s main avenue—lined on both sides with European-style architecture—and across a grand bridge over the Danube.

They chatted casually along the way.

Jing Hong remarked, “Just yesterday, a supplier drove up to Feichi in a Rolls-Royce and told Feichi’s CEO, ‘Make it just like this! I love this design!’ The CEO was completely flabbergasted.”

Zhou Chang let out a low chuckle.

“Feichi’s CEO retorted, ‘So you want our 200,000 to 300,000 yuan electric vehicles to give off a Rolls-Royce feel, right?’ The supplier didn’t even realize it was sarcasm and said, ‘Exactly, exactly! As expected of Feichi’s CEO, you got it right away!'” Jing Hong continued, “Once he finally caught on, the supplier thrown out a new business theory about ‘vegetarian abalone,’ claiming vegetarian dishes can imitate delicacies from land and sea, so they shouldn’t give up easily.”

Zhou Chang laughed again and said, “That reminds me of something too…”

Their topics ranged far and wide, touching even on events from years past.

For instance, Zhou Chang mentioned that Qinghui Group had switched to a new advertising firm, where Jing Hong had happened to intern over a decade ago.

Jing Hong recalled, “I was in the account department back then… needed to take secret photos of a competitor’s store shelves. I found a fake ID maker right by the East Gate of Renmin University and made a fake employee card for that rival company. Then, when I went to the supermarket, I told their sales staff I was from their marketing department, sent to inspect shelf and display arrangements. I chatted them up, asking things like, ‘Is so-and-so in charge of this area?’ When they said no, it was actually someone else, I’d say, ‘Oh right, right, of course it’s them, my mistake…’ After a few words, nobody suspected a thing. When I went back and handed in my PPT, my manager at the time asked, ‘Jing Hong, why are all your covert competitor photos centered, wide-angle, and high-definition?'”

The curve of Zhou Chang’s lips widened, and the atmosphere between them grew thoroughly relaxed.

Jing Hong realized their conversations were becoming increasingly personal. They were sharing more and more about their pasts—stories from before they became “President Jing” and “President Zhou.”

Later, a company Jing Hong mentioned turned out to be a client from Zhou Chang’s time at McKinsey seven or eight years ago. Zhou Chang described a particular project, and after listening, Jing Hong remarked with utter calm on the surface, “I know. You posted a case summary about it on McKinsey’s website before.”

Zhou Chang visibly paused for a second and asked, “You searched for it on purpose?”

Jing Hong maintained his calm tone: “Yeah.”

“When?”

Jing Hong recalled, “During the Saint Games bidding war, after I was dragged along to Chongqing.”

Zhou Chang gave him a deep, lingering look.

Getting off the tram, Jing Hong followed Zhou Chang, but after walking a while, he came to a stop just as they entered Europe’s largest thermal bath complex.

“The fireworks don’t start for another two hours, at nine o’clock,” Zhou Chang raised his chin slightly. “There’s a thermal bath party here tonight. Soaking in the hot springs while partying is supposed to be great for stress relief. I thought I’d check it out since I’ve never experienced it.”

Hungary possessed an abundance of thermal springs, and “soaking in thermal baths” was one of the most vital leisure activities for locals. People could spend an entire day at the baths, which even offered card tables and other facilities—nearly anything could be done in the water.

While Northeast Chinese bathhouses required stepping out of the water, Hungary genuinely brought all sorts of recreational activities right into the pool.

The thermal bath in front of them sat right in the heart of the city, occupying a massive area surrounded by grand European architecture, with museums, art galleries, Heroes’ Square, and castles just beyond.

Jing Hong glanced at Zhou Chang’s profile.

“What is it?” Zhou Chang met Jing Hong’s gaze, teasingly asking, “Is President Jing shy about being seen? Too late, I’ve already seen it all.”

“Right, right,” Jing Hong stepped into a small nearby shop selling swim trunks, browsing as he spoke. “Nothing worth seeing anyway, right?”

“Not really,” Zhou Chang paused briefly, then added, “It was worth seeing.”

Jing Hong: “…”

Zhou Chang picked out a solid black pair for himself, then grabbed another pair—also black, but featuring two blue wave stripes down the side—holding it against Jing Hong’s lower abdomen: “Take this one.” With that, he pulled out his credit card and paid.

The changing rooms were private. When Zhou Chang emerged, he didn’t see Jing Hong. A few minutes later, he discovered Jing Hong had already made his way into the bath area, sitting on a stone bench inside a small, circular pool facing a central platform.

The bath area was divided into two vast square sections, separated by a long, straight raised platform. Inside both large square pools were smaller circular pools enclosed by stone walls about waist-high, leaving only a small entrance. Bathers could sit on the stone benches, leaning back against the walls to rest while taking in the surroundings.

Zhou Chang walked over and sat beside Jing Hong inside the small enclosure, leaning one arm casually against the back stone wall: “Looks like the party starts at seven.”

Jing Hong replied: “Yeah.”

He had actually seen Zhou Chang approaching.

He still possessed that tall, imposing frame and taut, powerful muscles.

Jing Hong recalled that night when Zhou Chang unbuttoned his shirt and placed both hands over his chest—that elastic, firm touch still seemed to burn at his fingertips.

Bare-chested, the two soaked in the water, wrapped in the warm, comforting thermal spring.

Around seven o’clock, the thermal bath party officially kicked off.

In the dark, disco lights cast a pink glow over the water, matched by pink spotlights beaming from several windows of the surrounding buildings onto the pool. Beneath the surface, blue lights turned on, transforming the thermal bath into a glowing blue lake. The hired DJ spun tracks amid the screams of revelers, while thick clouds of steam rose and drifted above the water’s surface, illuminated into vivid shades of pink by the light beams behind them.

Jing Hong ordered a Mojito, sipping his drink while taking in the scene.

The floating pink mist, warm water, alcohol, music, and dancing were undeniably therapeutic.

As the atmosphere reached its peak, Jing Hong discovered the party even featured an annual “Ab Competition”!

When the time arrived, amidst deafening cheers and screams, registered Eastern European men walked one by one across the platform. Every one of them was bare-chested, showing off their physique, and each contender was showered with enthusiastic applause from the crowd in the water. Music, shouts, and cheers echoed across the entire space.

It had been a long time since Jing Hong had been in such a wild setting. He observed the physiques, taking them in while sipping his drink.

As contestants stepped forward one by one—both white and Black men—Zhou Chang suddenly asked casually beside him, “Have you always preferred men, President Jing?”

Jing Hong paused briefly without answering, instead turning the question back: “What about you, President Zhou?”

Zhou Chang looked at Jing Hong’s face and said casually, “If you’re a man, I like men. If you’re a woman, I like women.”

“…” Jing Hong offered no response, leaving it unclear whether he had heard or simply chosen not to acknowledge it.

Following the ab competition, various forms of revelry resumed.

Seven or eight pairs of young men and women dressed in traditional Hungarian attire took to the platform to dance.

Hungarian dance music had long been renowned for its fiery, passionate energy. The girls spun in circles wearing flowers in their hair, their bright red circular skirts—emblematic of Hungarian dance—flared out like waves, revealing athletic legs clad in black tights.

Outside, the night grew progressively colder, yet the thermal spring remained steamy and hot. Sipping his Mojito, Jing Hong felt glad he had come; the blood-soaked commercial battlegrounds felt delightfully distant at this moment.

After an unknown stretch of time and another finished Mojito, Zhou Chang checked his watch and said, “It’s about time. Let’s head to the Danube.”

As they reached the edge of the pool, Zhou Chang said to Jing Hong, “Wait in the pool for a moment.”

Jing Hong: “Hmm?”

“It’s cold outside,” Zhou Chang stepped nimbly out of the water. “I’ll grab a towel.”

Jing Hong looked up at Zhou Chang from below the ledge.

Water droplets fell heavily, pattering against the ground. Zhou Chang’s legs were muscular and firm; from this angle, his black trunks looked stretched so tight they almost appeared sheer, the contents inside restrained and bursting to break free.

His throat felt dry.

Soon, Zhou Chang returned with a large white bath towel. Jing Hong stepped out of the spring and took the towel to wipe himself dry.

Once finished, Jing Hong looked at Zhou Chang and noted, “President Zhou, you’re not completely dry yet, especially your back.”

“Is that so.” Zhou Chang had brought only one towel and had wiped himself down right by the towel rack. Not minding it, he took the towel Jing Hong had just used and vigorously wiped his neck, chest, abs, arms, and legs—his movements subtly, undeniably magnetic.

He raised his arm to wipe his ribs, then wrapped the towel around his leg to rub upward from the ankle.

Finally, Zhou Chang dried his short black hair while Jing Hong watched in silence.

Where the towel passed, water droplets were absorbed once more, mingling and soaking together with Jing Hong’s moisture, completely intertwined and inseparable.

Afterward, Jing Hong tossed the towel into the bin beside the rack. They went into separate shower rooms to wash up and blow-dry their hair. By the time they emerged, Jing Hong was impeccably dressed once more, as if the wild party had been entirely left behind.

At nine o’clock sharp, the river cruise departed.

Both men were reminded of their night tour in Chongqing, though the scenery here was entirely different. Tonight, the Parliament Building, castles, and churches lined the riverbanks, bathed in dreamlike lighting.

To the left of the river lay “Buda,” with rolling hills and colorful houses tucked along the banks and mountainsides. To the right lay “Pest,” a flat, vast plain. It was a city steeped in contradictions—the birthplace of John von Neumann, the father of computing who represented pure logic, as well as Franz Liszt, who embodied pure artistic sentiment; George Soros, representing speculation, and Joseph Pulitzer, representing truth and integrity.

A magical place.

The cruise ship was crowded with people, ordinary men and women seeking to add a dash of excitement to their mundane lives under the guise of the festival, whether insincerely or with genuine passion. Jing Hong realized he was doing the exact same thing.

Vibrant fireworks launched into the night sky, drawing cheers from the passengers.

Leaning gently against the railing, Jing Hong gazed at the clusters of fireworks—red, yellow, green, blue, and multicolored—illuminating the night sky directly above the Parliament Building.

The ship passed under the Chain Bridge. Brightly lit from end to end, the bridge’s reflection shimmered on the water as the vessel glided right through the center of the dual beams of light.

The city exuded a spirit that was classical, historic, passionate, and melancholy.

The night breeze over the river blew somewhat strong. Zhou Chang glanced at Jing Hong beside him, suddenly reaching out his right hand to tuck a stray strand of dark hair behind Jing Hong’s ear.

Jing Hong turned his gaze toward him: “…?”

Zhou Chang said, “The Danube is beautiful. I want to look at you.”

Jing Hong: “…”

Though the two sentences seemed completely unrelated, hearing them made Jing Hong’s heart race with heat.

He turned his neck back toward the distant fireworks. Rockets ascended and exploded; only after a long moment did Zhou Chang shift his gaze back, his dark eyes once again reflecting the stunning night view of the Danube.

At a certain point, almost inexplicably, Jing Hong quietly glanced at Zhou Chang’s side profile.

As strikingly handsome as ever. In the glow of the fireworks, flecks of light danced in his eyes, while a soft halo draped over the bridge of his nose, emphasizing its high, sharp line.

Wave after wave of brilliant fireworks soared and burst across the sky, reflecting off the Parliament Building, surrounding architecture, the passionate river, and the affectionate crowds from various nations aboard the ship.

During the final, grandest round of fireworks over the Danube, Jing Hong and Zhou Chang unconsciously looked into each other’s eyes once more. Their pupils were lit up time and again, each repeatedly capturing the other’s reflection inside.

……

It was 11:00 PM by the time they returned to the hotel by taxi from the Danube. Jing Hong stayed on the third floor of the castle, while Zhou Chang was on the fourth. After exchanging goodbyes in the elevator, Jing Hong stepped out first.

Arriving at his room door, Jing Hong noticed several Fanhai Group employees chatting in the hallway. One was Jiang Rengui, President of Cloud Computing—Fanhai was providing cloud services for the battery base—alongside the General Manager of Public Relations and Jing Hong’s new assistant.

Jing Hong wasn’t quite used to this new assistant yet, but since Tan Qian had been promoted to Vice President of a major business group, a replacement was necessary. The new assistant had previously served the President of a head office at a state-owned bank, retaining certain persistent habits from that environment. For example, if Jing Hong stood before a desk to give instructions, the assistant would invariably stand up; if they crossed paths in a hallway, he would immediately step to the side and wait for Jing Hong to pass, regardless of how wide the corridor was.

Otherwise, however, his capabilities were top-notch.

A few days ago, Jing Hong heard that the bank president’s newer assistant was a post-90s youth who loved freedom, paid zero mind to the president’s numerous rules, and treated them as background noise—a phenomenon his cousin referred to as “the post-90s generation reforming the workplace.”

Hearing that had made Jing Hong reflect on how everyone’s needs differed.

Then again, his cousin had added that it was nothing compared to web novels, where assistants to big CEOs bowed every single day. Jing Hong had pointed out those were surely Japanese light novels, but his cousin argued passionately that they were Chinese web novels. That left Jing Hong feeling rather bewildered; over the next few days, he made a point to observe other people’s assistants, though he truly never saw anyone behaving quite like that.

Walking over, Jing Hong asked Jiang Rengui and the others, “What are you all chatting about?”

“President Jing.” The GM of Public Relations quickly summarized what he’d just heard to give Jing Hong a laugh, “President Jiang was just sharing a story from his past about getting a tattoo!”

“Oh?” Jing Hong glanced at Jiang Rengui. “What happened?”

“It’s like this,” Jiang Rengui recounted animatedly. “When I was young, as President Jing knows, my dream was to become a triad gangster. Only because that didn’t work out did I end up taking the entrance exam for Tsinghua.”

“…Right, I know,” Jing Hong said.

It was precisely due to this unique trait that Jing Hong had noticed him in the first place—during the 2011 “Group-Buying War,” Jiang Rengui’s aggressive drive allowed him to secure meetings with potential merchants right at the start while everyone else shrank back.

“There was this one time,” Jiang Rengui continued, “I wanted to get a dragon tattooed on me.” He gestured with his hands, “The kind that drapes over the shoulder like Chan Ho-nam’s! Super cool.”

Jing Hong said, “Mm. And then?” Jing Hong had a faint recollection of Chan Ho-nam’s shoulder dragon tattoo, given how immensely popular the Young and Dangerous movies had been back in the day.

“Then the tattoo artist refused,” Jiang Rengui went on. “He said you can’t just tattoo mythic beasts or fierce animals casually; it affects your fortune, and ordinary people can’t carry that kind of weight. Only someone with an ‘imperial destiny’ can hold up a divine beast like that, especially an over-the-shoulder dragon.” He looked at Jing Hong, “An imperial destiny—probably someone like you, President Jing.”

Jing Hong asked, “…And then?”

“I wouldn’t listen, of course,” Jiang Rengui put on a rebellious expression. “I started arguing with the shop owner right there, fighting tooth and nail until we were practically at blows. The owner said, ‘You’re just a fifteen-year-old kid, why do you need an over-the-shoulder dragon? Pick something else.’ I refused to back down and said, ‘I want the dragon! I MUST have the over-the-shoulder dragon! If you don’t tattoo it, I’m not leaving!'”

“…” Jing Hong put himself in the tattoo artist’s shoes and felt suffocated, asking again, “And then?”

“And then,” Jiang Rengui sighed, “the owner gave up and yielded, saying, ‘Fine, fine, lie down on the table, let me put on some local anesthesia.’ I was thrilled, but after the anesthesia kicked in, I fell fast asleep.”

Jing Hong asked once more, “What happened when you woke up?”

Jiang Rengui looked up at the ceiling, let out a long breath, and said, “When I woke up, I found that right on my shoulder, the tattoo artist had written a tiny, regular Chinese character in kai script: 【龍】 (Dragon). No cool over-the-shoulder dragon, nothing of the sort—just one single, stupid Chinese character: Dragon.”

Jing Hong: “…”

Though the others had already heard it once, they still burst into unstoppable laughter.

“President Jing,” the GM of Public Relations chimed in, “you should take a look at his ‘dragon’! We already saw it, and it nearly killed us laughing!”

Jiang Rengui wasn’t shy either; he generously started unbuttoning his shirt.

Jing Hong asked, “You didn’t get it laser-removed afterward?”

“Nope,” Jiang Rengui replied. “I heard laser removal hurts like crazy. So I just left it there.”

At that moment, the GM of Public Relations received a phone call from a restaurant, saying he had left something behind. He hurriedly excused himself from Jing Hong and the others and left.

It wasn’t entirely safe for a woman to walk the streets of a foreign city alone at 11:00 PM, so Jing Hong gestured for his new assistant to accompany her. Turning back, he saw Jiang Rengui had already exposed the “dragon” character on his shoulder.

It sat right below the collarbone, at the edge of his chest muscle.

“…” It was indeed a Chinese character, written in formal regular script.

Jing Hong tugged at the fabric of his shirt, staring at his chest for a few seconds, finding it genuinely hilarious as well. After a dozen seconds, he finally let go of Jiang Rengui’s collar, casually rebuttoning the shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles.

They chatted for a bit longer before Jiang Rengui returned to his room—which happened to be right next to Jing Hong’s.

Jing Hong was about to step into his own room as well, but as he pulled out his key, he inexplicably glanced down the end of the hallway—and caught sight of Zhou Chang.

Zhou Chang walked over, glanced at Jiang Rengui’s room door, and asked casually in his Beijing accent, “What were you guys up to just now?” He had actually arrived not long before.

Perhaps influenced by the alcohol, Jing Hong intentionally decided to tease Zhou Chang. Unlocking his door with the key, he stated expressionlessly, “Nothing much. It has nothing to do with you, President Zhou.”

The hotel was an ancient castle, and the doors required physical keys to unlock.

Zhou Chang kept one hand in his pocket, staring at Jing Hong’s back, and added, “Even over at Qinghui, I’ve heard rumors about ‘Consort Jiang’—they say he got that nickname because he’s your current favorite and is about to be promoted in your harem.”

“Those people are just making wild jokes.” Jing Hong opened his room door. “Alright, it’s 12 o’clock. Get some rest, President Zhou.”

With that, Jing Hong stepped into the room without turning around, casually waving a hand behind his back as a parting gesture.

Zhou Chang didn’t truly believe there was anything going on between them—not at all—yet he was still provoked by Jing Hong’s cold attitude, especially after confirming tonight that Jing Hong had always been interested in men. Stepping forward in two quick strides, he grabbed Jing Hong’s raised wrist, forcing him back into the room. With a quick turn and pivot, he pinned Jing Hong aggressively against the wall inside the room.

Jing Hong: “…”

Zhou Chang shifted his stance, trapping both of Jing Hong’s hands behind his waist, pressing his broad chest close while locking eyes with him.

Jing Hong’s eyes remained completely unruffled as he said, “I’m a 5th-degree black belt in Taekwondo.”

Zhou Chang practiced combat sports himself, yet he countered, “So you’re going to kick me?”

Jing Hong continued to gaze at him calmly, though his heart tightened slightly.

Zhou Chang tightened his arm around him, bending his neck down halfway: “Are you gonna kick or not?”

Jing Hong remained entirely motionless.

Zhou Chang brought his lips closer, breathing a puff of warm air onto Jing Hong’s lips, and asked again, “Still not kicking?” His breath carried the aroma of alcohol—a mix of cocktails from the thermal baths and whisky from the cruise ship, fragrant and fiery.

Then, Zhou Chang’s lips pressed lightly against Jing Hong’s, subtly and sensually brushing over them, his voice laced with temptation: “Really not kicking?”

It felt as though a feather had brushed across his lips, yet Jing Hong’s legs didn’t move an inch.

Zhou Chang pushed further, wedging one knee between Jing Hong’s legs, nudging them gently left and right: “What about like this? Why aren’t these two legs moving?”

Jing Hong still gave no answer.

Yet faced with Jing Hong’s unbothered, calm gaze, Zhou Chang was the one who could no longer hold back. He kissed him fiercely—aggressive, impatient, sucking on his lips again and again, letting out soft, heavy sounds as his breathing turned ragged.

“Zhou…” Before Jing Hong could finish a single word, Zhou Chang drove deep inside.

Breathing heavily, Zhou Chang entwined his tongue with Jing Hong’s, hungrily savoring his taste with deep licks and firm pressure, not letting a single drop escape, thrilled to finally taste these sweet lips once again.

Jing Hong paused for a split second, then wrapped his arm around Zhou Chang’s neck, passionately kissing him back with equal intensity.