Finding Jing Hong’s tie in the way, Zhou Chang untied it in a few quick motions, tossed it onto the cabinet, and passionately pressed his lips against Jing Hong’s neck once more. Holding Jing Hong close, he kissed him while unbuttoning the top button of Jing Hong’s shirt, pulling it open to expose his shoulder. He inhaled softly first before lightly pressing his lower lip against the skin, trailing from neck to shoulder, and back from shoulder to neck, repeating the motion over and over.

Next, Zhou Chang began to lightly purse his lips against him. He would press his lips together, part them, press them together again, and part them once more, before proceeding to draw up a small patch of skin with a light suction, release it, draw up another patch, and release it—repeating the sequence rhythmically.

Gradually, the kisses deepened into something heavier. Zhou Chang sucked forcefully while thoroughly licking the skin, as if the latter were a form of soothing consolation. The two actions alternated back and forth. Jing Hong felt as though he were a piece of candy or something similar; one side of his neck felt intensely itchy yet thoroughly numb at the same time, while a surge of blood rushed uncontrollably to his brain. He wanted to push Zhou Chang away, but simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.

This style of kissing fully mirrored Zhou Chang’s personality—immensely patient, step-by-step, refusing to let pass a single scrap of interest or advantage along the way, until he slowly, deliberately, and completely squeezed the other party dry. Bound to win, firm and domineering.

Jing Hong let out a faint sound: “Zhou Chang—”

Zhou Chang raised his eyes, his gaze still dripping with aggression and oppressiveness. Looking at Jing Hong from an exceptionally close distance with those eyes that always seemed deceptively affectionate, he suddenly asked with absolute gravity: “Jing Hong, there’s something I’ve actually been wanting to know for a long time.”

“…Hm?” Jing Hong looked straight into Zhou Chang’s eyes, not dodging his gaze in the slightest.

Zhou Chang asked: “Back when Qinghui Group was going public in the US, people from Weilai took advantage of the quiet period to sling dirt at Qinghui… The person who helped Qinghui back then—was it you?”

Jing Hong: “…”

The quiet period—also known as the “waiting period”—was a regulation set by the US SEC (Securities and Exchange Commission) stipulating that in the weeks surrounding an IPO, senior executives of the issuing company and the underwriting investment banks were forbidden from issuing any major statements outside the prospectus, strictly prohibiting public hyping of the new stock or soliciting investments. Yet back then, taking advantage of that exact quiet period, several senior executives from Weilai launched a barrage of attacks against Qinghui Group, claiming, for instance, that a certain Qinghui executive had committed numerous illegal acts during their past tenure at Weilai and had been fired, among other accusations…

And yet Qinghui had been unable to respond.

At that crucial juncture, unexpectedly, Fanhai Group had stepped up for Qinghui. For instance, Fanhai stated that since that Qinghui executive had also worked at Fanhai for several years—during which the executive had been conscientious and dedicated—Fanhai hoped Weilai could produce concrete evidence of those “illegal acts,” as Fanhai did not wish to be implicated. After all, if that executive had broken the law at their previous company, they might have done so at Fanhai as well, a matter Fanhai Group took with utmost seriousness.

Zhou Chang pressed Jing Hong further: “Was it you? Jing Hong? To be frank, I can hardly imagine that being Jing Haiping’s idea.”

“…” Jing Hong looked at Zhou Chang and said, “It was my idea. I couldn’t stand by and watch it happen. Fanhai, Qinghui, and the other two giants should engage in healthy competition and a virtuous cycle. There’s no need for Chinese internet companies to tear each other down.”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Zhou Chang kissed him again with fierce intensity.

The world seemed to vanish.

In a metropolis of tens of millions, it felt as though only the two of them remained.

Kissing him, Zhou Chang unbuttoned the bottom few buttons of Jing Hong’s shirt. Holding Jing Hong’s waist and capturing his lips, he murmured indistinctly: “Jing Hong, baby… I want to lick you.”

“…” Jing Hong didn’t dodge either, asking, “…Lick where?”

Zhou Chang replied: “Everywhere.”

Things having reached this point tonight, an uncontrollable craving surged inside Jing Hong’s body as well. He gave Zhou Chang a light push and said, “Let me take a shower first.”

Zhou Chang said, “Alright. You use the one in the master bedroom, I’ll use the other one.”

Jing Hong took his time in the shower, washing himself meticulously inside and out. When he stepped back out, he found Zhou Chang sitting at the head of his massive bed handling some work, eyelashes half-draped, bathrobe half-open, and the belt loosely tied around his waist, exposing a broad expanse of firm chest muscle. With one leg bent and the other resting flat, his stature was so tall that the small netbook resting on his lap appeared even smaller as he focused intently on the screen.

Jing Hong walked over, extended his right hand, and snapped the netbook’s LCD screen shut with a sharp clack.

Zhou Chang raised his eyes, looking up at Jing Hong.

Jing Hong looked right back at Zhou Chang, using his right hand to nudge the netbook, pushing it inch by inch toward the edge of the bed.

Zhou Chang made no move to stop him.

It was just a netbook running a cloud OS anyway; if it broke, it broke—everything was backed up on the company intranet.

And so, with a dull thud, the notebook dropped onto the floor, sinking into the thick carpet.

Jing Hong leaned his upper body forward. Holding onto Zhou Chang’s shoulders while Zhou Chang held his waist, the two began to kiss once again.

After kissing for a moment, Zhou Chang exerted force with his arms, flipped their positions over, and in an instant, Jing Hong sank into the massive bed. Zhou Chang pressed down on top of him, his tongue invading with fierce intensity.

Their bathrobes hung loosely off their shoulders, slipping down to their arms with the belts completely undone.

Zhou Chang truly kissed him everywhere.

As emotions reached their peak, the undergarment Jing Hong had just changed into was naturally stripped away. Jing Hong drew his leg back, hooked the piece of fabric with his right foot, and kicked it far away.

Zhou Chang chuckled: “5th-degree black belt in Taekwondo, huh? Using it to kick stuff like that.”

Jing Hong said, “Don’t provoke me.”

When he felt the fingertips, Jing Hong paused abruptly. He gripped Zhou Chang’s arm and asked, “Zhou Chang, it’s impossible that you just want to sleep with me to humiliate me, right? This can’t be another one of your long-game strategies, President Zhou? After all, what you’re best at is setting up long-term traps.”

Zhou Chang looked at Jing Hong with his deep, captivating eyes. Suddenly changing his course of action, he withdrew his hand, spread the hem of Jing Hong’s bathrobe wider to both sides, and lowered his head.

Jing Hong felt as though he were swept into a scalding sea, plunged into a blazing fire.

After an unknown stretch of time, his body gradually settled down. Zhou Chang sat up straight, grabbed the water glass off the nightstand, and downed a large gulp.

Setting it down, Zhou Chang sat up straight once more and asked Jing Hong, “Like this—do you believe me now?”

By this point, Jing Hong was already desperately craving… He said to Zhou Chang, “Hold down both of my wrists when the time comes. I don’t want to push you away.”

“Alright,” Zhou Chang agreed.

Throughout the entire process that followed, Jing Hong stared up at the ceiling light in the bedroom. The illumination grew blurry, doubling in his vision, as a hazy dizziness washed over him.

The Beijing night felt like a bottomless abyss, impossibly vast and deep.

Zhou Chang had already showered, his features clean and refreshed, completely stripped of his usual ruthless edge.

At one point, Jing Hong cursed: “You beast…”

Zhou Chang said, “I can be even more of a beast.”

“President Jing,” Zhou Chang even teased him at this moment, leaning down to whisper into Jing Hong’s ear, asking, “You wouldn’t be that useless, would you?”

“…” Jing Hong’s eyes carried a touch of watery mist as he looked at Zhou Chang, devoid of his usual ease and composure, stripped of the distant, unattainable aura he normally wore.

Zhou Chang couldn’t resist him like this.

Toward the end, listening to Jing Hong give two blatantly contradictory commands to him, Zhou Chang let out a soft laugh and kissed his lips: “My grand CEO, changing orders every morning and evening is a major taboo in business. You can only pick one. Which one are you choosing?”

His mind in a state of flustered irritation, Jing Hong said, “The one from earlier.”

Zhou Chang said, “As you command.”

The more aggressive a person was, the more abundantly their male hormones surged. Unluckily, both of them fit the bill.

They simultaneously conquered and submitted to one another.

No one knew how long had passed before everything finally came to an end.

Zhou Chang tossed a certain object into the trash bin by the bed, causing the bin to emit a heavy, dull thump.

Zhou Chang opened a drawer again, but Jing Hong found it bothersome and said, “Don’t need that thing.”

Zhou Chang immediately obliged. Losing control of his strength as he pushed the drawer shut, it closed with a loud bang.

This time, a whole night slipped past. The bed was an Alaskan King Size—2.75 meters long and 2.75 meters wide—yet in the end, every inch of it was left a mess.

It wasn’t until the sky began to turn pale with dawn that Zhou Chang finally lifted himself off Jing Hong. Holding each other, Zhou Chang asked, “We’ll sleep together like this every time in the future, hm?”

Jing Hong offered a lazy hum of agreement: “Mm.”

Zhou Chang confirmed once more: “Didn’t you say that time that you didn’t like sleeping in the same bed with other people?”

Jing Hong thought for a moment and said, “You don’t count as ‘other people’ anymore.”

Zhou Chang felt a sense of disbelief—Jing Hong, the grand CEO of Fanhai Group, was lying in his bed right now.

The person who had ultimately ended up in his bed was actually Jing Hong.

He stroked Jing Hong’s hair again and asked, “Baby, it’s morning. What do you want to eat?”

Jing Hong’s soul had long since drifted out of his body. Buried under the duvet in a hazy daze, he worked hard to focus his consciousness, thought it over, and said, “Malatang.”

Zhou Chang froze for a second before bursting into laughter: “Alright. I’ll tell them not to make it spicy?”

“…” Jing Hong let Zhou Chang have his way, and after thinking a bit more, added: “Tell them to add extra fried tofu puffs.”