The Bentley's leather seats felt like sinking into a cloud, but to Lu Chenzhou, it was a bed of nails. The cabin was saturated with Fu Jingshen's crisp cedarwood cologne, mixed with the faint, expensive smell of hide, creating an intensely oppressive, closed space. He kept his head turned toward the window, watching the city's neon lights smear into grotesque, flowing colours against the rain-blurred glass, like a false, feverish dream.
Fu Jingshen was silent, his fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm on his knee—a rhythm that seemed to beat directly against Lu Chenzhou's raw nerves, setting them alight. He could feel the weight of the man's gaze, heavy and appraising, laced with a dark amusement. It was the look of a connoisseur examining a new acquisition, already contemplating how best to break it in.
"Boss Fu," Lu Chenzhou's voice was tight, grating from the tension coiling in his throat, "where are we going?"
Fu Jingshen's eyes lifted, lingering on his rigid profile for a moment before a thin, cold smile touched his lips. "You'll see when we arrive."
The smile was a shard of ice. Lu Chenzhou said nothing more, pressing himself harder against the door, every line of his body tense as a trapped animal.
The car finally glided into an exclusive, mountainside villa compound, its gates severe and imposing. They passed through impeccably landscaped gardens before stopping before a starkly modern villa. Its vast glass walls glowed from within, showcasing a lavish interior that stood like a crystal prison in the rainy night.
Lu Chenzhou followed him out. His soaked shoes left dark, guilty prints on the warm, pristine marble of the entranceway. He instinctively recoiled, but Fu Jingshen's arm snaked around his waist, holding him in place.
"Worried about the mess?" Fu Jingshen's breath was hot and intimate against his ear, his voice deliberately low. "This is your home now, too. If it gets dirty, someone will clean it."
Lu Chenzhou shoved the arm away, stumbling back a step, the familiar fire of defiance flashing in his eyes. "Keep your hands to yourself."
Fu Jingshen watched his reaction with open interest but didn't pursue. He simply turned and pushed the heavy door open. "Inside."
The living room was vast enough to swallow sound. A colossal crystal chandelier hung from the double-height ceiling, its light almost painfully bright. The minimalist furniture and monochromatic décor screamed of cold, calculated wealth. A maid stood silently in the shadows, bowing slightly as they entered. "Sir."
"Take him to the guest room. Prepare a meal," Fu Jingshen commanded, his tone devoid of inflection yet leaving no room for doubt.
"Yes, Sir."
Lu Chenzhou followed the maid up the stairs, each step a effort. He glanced back. Fu Jingshen had settled on the sofa, a cigarette between his fingers, his dark, unreadable gaze fixed on him—an inescapable net already drawing tight.
The guest room was oversized, with a private bathroom. The maid laid out a set of soft, obviously expensive loungewear. "Sir requested you freshen up and change. Dinner will be ready shortly," she said softly, closing the door behind her without a sound.
Lu Chenzhou stared at the clothes, a hot knot of humiliation tightening in his gut. He was here on a job, not for a vacation—yet this felt exactly like being prepped for a gilded cage.
He stalked into the bathroom and cranked the shower to cold. Icy needles of water slammed into him. He needed the shock, the pain to override the shame. The water streamed over his body, highlighting the hard-earned muscle and the fresh bruises from the fight that marred his shoulders and back like a testament to his defiance.
He glared at his reflection—the face still sharp, the eyes still fierce, but now shadowed by a deep, unsettling gloom. He thought of his sister's frail form, the loan sharks' venomous threats, Fu Jingshen's possessive stare... His resistance crumbled, leaving behind a hollow, soundless sigh.
When he went downstairs, changed, Fu Jingshen was already at the long dining table, which was laden with elaborate, steaming dishes.
"Sit," Fu Jingshen said, nodding to the chair opposite.
Lu Chenzhou remained standing, his voice hard. "Boss Fu. Let's talk terms."
"Terms?" Fu Jingshen picked up his utensils with unnerving grace. "About your five-million-debt? Your sister's critical condition? Or... how you took your frustration out on my bathroom wall?"
Lu Chenzhou's face drained of colour. *Monitoring.* The villa was monitored. The sensation of being utterly exposed, stripped bare, made his skin prickle with dread.
"Fu Jingshen!" He ground out the name, fists clenched. "What do you want? A contract? Spell it out!"
Fu Jingshen set his cutlery down, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, and looked up, his expression chillingly placid. "The terms are simple." One finger rose. "One. For one year, you live here. You obey me."
A second finger joined it. "Two. Your body is mine. You yield it when I require it."
The air in the room solidified. Rage, hot and blinding, surged through Lu Chenzhou. He lunged forward, grabbing Fu Jingshen's collar and wrenching him forward. "In your dreams!"
His strength was formidable, but Fu Jingshen, pulled off-balance, didn't even flinch. A faint, cruel smirk touched his lips. "And your sister's treatment..."
"You—!" Lu Chenzhou's grip faltered. His hand, white-knuckled on the fabric, trembled with impotent fury.
Fu Jingshen peeled the fingers away, smoothing his collar with deliberate slowness. "Lu Chenzhou, shed that pathetic pride. It's undignified."
He stood, closing the distance between them in a stride. His hand shot out, gripping Lu Chenzhou's chin, forcing his head up. This time, Lu Chenzhou didn't fight it. He just stared, his eyes burning with pure, undiluted loathing.
"Remember this," Fu Jingshen's thumb pressed against his lower lip, the pressure brutal and possessive, "the moment you said 'yes', you surrendered the right to refuse."
The touch was cool but seared like a brand. Lu Chenzhou squeezed his eyes shut, wrestling with the urge to destroy. When he opened them, the fire was gone, extinguished, leaving only a flat, dead calm.
"Understood," he heard himself say, the voice alien in its stillness.
Fu Jingshen seemed satisfied. He released the grip, patting Lu Chenzhou's cheek almost approvingly. "Good. Now eat. It's getting cold."
Lu Chenzhou didn't move.
Fu Jingshen didn't repeat himself. He simply returned to his meal.
Time stretched. The only sound was the precise click of cutlery on fine china. Lu Chenzhou stood rooted, a statue of defiance, until a traitorous groan from his stomach broke the silence. He moved stiffly and sat down.
He picked up his fork, appetite gone. Every bite was ash and glass.
Fu Jingshen, contrastingly, seemed in high spirits. He occasionally served food to Lu Chenzhou's plate, making bland, conversational remarks as if they were two companions sharing a meal.
Lu Chenzhou offered no reply. He ate, burying every shred of emotion under a layer of ice. Resistance was pointless now. He would endure. He would wait. Until his sister was safe. Until he could escape.
After dinner, Fu Jingshen dismissed the staff and moved to the bar, pouring two glasses of rich, dark wine.
"Come," he said, not looking up.
Lu Chenzhou approached.
Fu Jingshen held out a glass. "Drink."
"I don't—"
"Drink," Fu Jingshen's voice sharpened, a blade of command.
Lu Chenzhou met his gaze for a long moment before snatching the glass and draining it in one go. The wine was smooth, then burned all the way down.
"Good," Fu Jingshen murmured, finishing his own glass. Then his hand settled on Lu Chenzhou's waist, the heat branding through the soft fabric. "It's late. Time to retire."
The touch jolted through him. "I'll use the guest room," Lu Chenzhou said, trying to pull away.
"The guest room?" Fu Jingshen's low laugh vibrated against him. His fingers tightened on his hip. "Who said anything about the guest room?"
His eyes darkened, becoming deep, storm-churned waters filled with undisguised possession.
"From tonight onward, you sleep in my room."
Lu Chenzhou's heart plummeted, a cold stone sinking into an abyss. It was coming. The inevitable price.