For several days, whenever Xing Ming encountered Ol' Lin, he would always stare at his wrist unconsciously. His dad's Longines watch wasn't on Ol' Lin's wrist, but he just couldn't control himself. The stare from his eyes were like blades and he often threw glances towards Ol' Lin, one glare after another. Moreover, such stares couldn't be concealed from others. Ruan Ning even ran up to ask him, "Boss, did Ol' Lin borrow money from you and not return it?"
The encounter in the morning wasn't enough. Even at night Xing Ming would dream about him, as if he was bewitched with nightmares. In his dream, he pulled out a sharp knife and stabbed Ol' Lin full of holes. The blood dripped and dribbled, and evaporating from his fingertips in clouds.
Xing Ming desperately hated Ol' Lin, but he hated himself more. The good news was Ol' Lin didn't break his promise in the end. Yu Zhongye's assistant one day suddenly informed him that he had to go back, pack his bags, and prepare for a business trip with the chairman.
Xiang Yong knew that Xing Ming would attend an especially high-class event, so he immediately mailed him a special high-class present—a Hermès belt.
In recent years, the restaurant industry hadn't been doing too well, and Xiang Yong's restaurant was struggling a little. If it were before, he could have sent a whole set of Hermès products.
Xing Ming remembered certain moments from when he was in middle school. Xiang Yong used to pat him on the shoulders and brag pridefully to everyone else, "This is my son." Later, as Xing Ming grew taller and taller, and Xiang Yong shrunk more and more, he would need to stretch his arms so far to touch Xing Ming's shoulders. But his words had never changed.
"This is my son."
The sharp contrast between the small, dark-skinned form of Xiang Yong and the fair skinned, tall and handsome appearance of Xing Ming always made the other people giggle and snicker.
It was because of himself, a mere stepchild, that Xiang Yong's biological son, Xiang Xiaobo, always had trouble getting along with his father. Xing Ming had felt guilty over this for years.
People from Sheng-Yu had sent a private plane to pick them up, and, on the way to the villa, Ol' Lin picked up Xing Ming as well.
Yu Zhongye looked Xing Ming up and down and stretched his hands to grab Xing Ming's waist, bringing him closer. He unbuckled Xing Ming's belt buckle and stripped off his Hermès belt.
Xing Ming was startled. The good thing was that Yu Zhongye wasn't trying to do perverted things in broad daylight, instead commanding, "Ol' Lin, give your belt to young Xing."
The brand of that belt was unrecognizable, but it had a good texture and a good style. He heard Ol' Lin saying that it had been a present Yu Zhongye had brought for him from overseas.
Xing Ming obediently latched Ol' Lin's belt onto his waist and climbed into the car. Then, squeezing by the car window, he looked outside to the grass and flowers under the drizzling rain.
Tao Hongbin had taken good care of the villa's garden; it looked pleasing and vigorous. But it was nearing the plum rains, the East Asian rainy season of late spring, and Xing Ming had become tired and spiritless, as if he mirrored the weather in becoming damp and moldy, soft and rotten.
"Nights of Sheng-Yu" was not as extravagant and lavish as the rumors seemed to imply. Among the luxury, flashiness, and gaudiness, it showed some elements of worldliness. The people who attended the event were not all like the distant, aloof deities of heaven either. Most women attending the event wore delicate dresses and exquisite makeup as if in competition with each other over their beauty and charisma, but the men that came were all plain and cordial like commoners. From the beginning to the end, Xing Ming only saw two men boldly wearing luxury products, and both of them were glaring and shimmering like peacocks displaying their feathers for courtship, throwing delightful first impressions to onlookers. Only, Yu Zhongye told Xing Ming that, while these two were nominally known as a golf coach and horse trainer, in reality, one of them was a rich old woman's boytoy and the other was the abandoned plaything of a rich businessman.
After a few drinks, however, people became chaotically demonic, dancing in riotous revelry and fully exposing their true natures. At the table, some university's Secretary of Party Committee grasped the hand of a beautiful ceremonial attendant, saying, "You're so unfathomably deep that my whip may be too short to reach." Then he laughed loudly, and the surrounding crowd followed suite, laughing in concert. The ceremonial attendant blushed. By Xing Ming's approximations, this awkwardly bawdy joke had been used by this Mr. Secretary a total of six times this evening.
The first night, he was sent back to the hotel with Chairman Yu by the host. Xing Ming even had his own room with a small swimming pool and a luxury sea view.
Later that night, the receptionist called him, sending him to Chairman Yu's room.
He'd made a huge mess of things last time with Chairman Yu, and then there was the thing with that watch, so Xing Ming had spent these past few days in a dour mood. He couldn't pretend at placid obedience, so instead he procrastinated by taking a shower in his own room before going to knock on Yu Zhongye's door at a very late time
He never expected that the one who opened the door for him would be another person.
Of the "quiet middle-class natural beauty" and the "girl next door" stereotypes, the same existed also in men. Standing in front of him, the boy, Xiao Yuan, was one of those, expressing those stereotypes in vivid and thorough androgyny. Xing Ming had once seen some photos of this boy dressed as a woman, and it sufficiently displayed the features of his delicate face in a way that made them seem even more enchanting and lovely than most women's. Recently, he had acted in a relatively famous franchise, taking the role of a tertiary character who only had few scenes and little plot-relevance, but was attractive to the audience. It was said that he had been patronized by Sheng-Yu, so he ended up gaining a group of crazy fans who constantly pursued him and called him "my husband."
This little celebrity named Xiao Yuan looked Xing Ming up and down, then said with a little bit of pride and haughtiness on his face, "It was Boss Liao who sent me here to serve Yu-shu."
Still bewildered, Xing Ming responded, "Who's Boss Liao?"
Yu Zhongye didn't seem to have planned to explain anything to him but instead patted Xiao Yuan's shoulder, saying with a smile, "You'll serve Host Xing first."
Xing Ming glared at Xiao Yuan with slight embarrassment. He didn't have much interest in women, let alone men. While Xiao Yuan had been born naturally pretty, he wore far too much makeup. Xing Ming looked at his effeminate appearance and felt instinctively repulsed. He had said previously that he would refuse a threesome, but clearly Yu Zhongye hadn't remembered. Or maybe he was forcing Xing Ming into repugnant things in order to diminish his stubborn spirit.
"Boss Yu, you're so mean…" Xiao Yuan was an experienced man. When he flirted with Yu Zhongye, his eyes were mournful, his voice was mellow, and his appearance was enchanting.
Right in front of Xing Ming, Yu Zhongye pinched Xiao Yuan's chin with a smile in response to Xiao Yuan's coquettishness. Then he sat on the bed, the smile on his face deepening, using his eyes to tell them to start.
Xiao Yuan climbed onto the bed, kneeling down with a desperate and eager sort of posture, and initiated a conversation with Xing Ming, introducing himself then introducing his whole family. He didn't act at all shy, evidently a veteran at this.
Xing Ming hadn't felt pleased recently, so he'd already planned to metaphorically smash the slightly cracked pot, to give up completely on this not-at-all lost cause. He glanced at Yu Zhongye, and, upon seeing that he had displayed no reaction, Xing Ming closed his eyes and made an absolute decision. Wasn't it just a piston motion? With women it was fucking; with Yu Zhongye it was also fucking; more so it was fucking when it came to this feminine boytoy.
Xing Ming also got onto the bed and awkwardly approached Xiao Yuan. Before he could touch Xiao Yuan, a hand from behind his back stretched out and forcefully twisted his neck around.
"That's enough. You're taking me seriously?"
Yu Zhongye used his pair of lips, which were curved up in a smile, to approach Xing Ming. Covering Xing Ming's lips with his own, his tongue slid into his mouth. Yu Zhongye waved his hand at Xiao Yuan, indicating that his interference was no longer needed here.
Unable to finish his task, Xiao Yuan probably felt guilty towards his patron organization, so he shamelessly persisted in staying in the room. When Yu Zhongye kissed Xing Ming, he was extremely committed. While kissing, the older man embraced him and forcefully caressed him. His bathrobe almost slipped down, and a solidly muscled back and thighs were revealed, their unyieldingly steadfast lines glistening with sweat. The view was extremely sexy. Xiao Yuan, thinking that Chairman Yu wanted a threesome, grinned and approached, vying for a kiss.
He didn't expect for Yu Zhongye, intolerant of interruptions, to pushed him off the bed.
Xiao Yuan didn't seem to understand Yu Zhongye's actions, so he stood up and tried to climb back onto the bed. Still not looking at him, Yu Zhongye fiercely pushed him off once more.
Xing Ming and Yu Zhongye sat face-to-face kissing, their eyes wide open. He clutched Yu Zhongye's shoulder, over which he could clearly see the forlorn face of Xiao Yuan, glaring with multitudes of complicated emotions: resentment and confusion, maybe even envy and empathy. He had probably thought that he would be the centerpiece tonight, probably never expected that reality would be opposite to his prediction, that he would be completely downgraded to voyeur.
Xing Ming suddenly pitied Xiao Yuan, but then he thought, at least this person had a definitive goal, at least he was fearless of losses and hopeful of gains.
Xing Ming was even more pathetic than Xiao Yuan.
Yu Zhongye noticed that the person in his arms was not concentrating, so he pinched Xing Ming's chin and turned his face forward, "Where are you looking?"
Xing Ming had to stop throwing glances at Xiao Yuan and instead turned to look into the eyes of Yu Zhongye. Yu Zhongye had completely ignored the existence of Xiao Yuan. He split the legs of Xing Ming, took some lube and explored the depths of the dark red pucker, then thrust right in.
Xing Ming had already been kissed so much that his entire body had relaxed, and even the invasion of such a large object was easily accepted with naught but a soft moan.
Maybe because he wasn't convinced that his position could be replaced by someone who was so inferior to him, Xiao Yuan miserably called, "Boss Yu, I'm better than he is!" Then, once again, he climbed onto the wide hotel bed. This time, Yu Zhongye didn't push him, but instead stretched out to grab the stained-glass lamp at the head of the bed, unplugged it with a harsh pull, then flung it brutally toward Xiao Yuan's face. Xiao Yuan wasn't able to dodge, and his pretty face made direct contact with the bedside lamp that had been thrown at him. He stumbled and fell. Then, with half of his face bruising, he finally fled, crying all the way.
Yu Zhongye put one hand around Xing Ming's neck and the other one around his ankle, pumping him ferociously up and down. Xing Ming's lips parted, and the tip of his tongue slipped slightly out at the corner of his mouth. He felt like he would pass out from the lack of air, but at the last moment, he was pulled back into Yu Zhongye's arms and fucked cruelly even as he was embraced. Yu Zhongye's gaze was extremely callous as it fell on him, but the cock thrusting in and out of his hole was abnormally heated. Maybe it was because Xing Ming hadn't gotten much action lately and his body had felt the lack, or maybe it was because this time Yu Zhongye had outdone himself in giving pleasure, but Xing Ming suddenly hit the peaking point. The more fiercely Yu Zhongye thrust, the more tightly Xing Ming clenched. It was so gratifying that Xing Ming's whole body started to shiver and spasm.
Xing Ming felt good and so did Yu Zhongye, grabbing his ass, forcefully thrusting and panting.
Xing Ming was fucked by Yu Zhongye for nearly the entire night.
When he woke up again, Xiao Yuan had already gone, but Yu Zhongye was still in the room, sitting on the sofa in front of the bed and talking to someone on the phone.
Xing Ming dared not open his eyes for fear of meeting Yu Zhongye's gaze. He was ashamed of the crazed indulgence of last night, so he buried his face into the covers and pretended to sleep.
"Stop pretending to be asleep," Yu Zhongye said, ending the call. "I'm taking you somewhere."
With the exception of the round-table culture of drinking and parties, the other things that "Nights of Sheng-Yu" had were various summit meetings and exhibitions. When it came to things like yacht shows, jewelry exhibitions, and watch exhibitions, Xing Ming had little interest. Only when Yu Zhongye brought him to the outdoor art exhibition was his interest noticeably piqued.
The exhibit was quite stylish, without decorative spotlights or interior ornaments. The simplicity and starkness made the true nature of art stand out.
Liao Hui was the third man there to wear luxury brands and gaudy accessories. He seemed about thirty-seven or thirty-eight in age, not tall, but strong enough in build. Though he was naturally quite handsome, there was something discordant about his presentation. Just a lowkey outdoor art exhibit, and through it walked the President of the Sheng-Yu Corporate Group alongside the Chairman of Pearl Station with their extensive entourage, becoming a bit of a spectacle. Yet Yu Zhongye stayed calm and collected, his confident disposition in complete control of the situation.
Although it was the first time that Xing Ming met Liao Hui, he didn't have many inherently positive feelings for him. Rumor had it that this guy did little beyond playing around with girls. Sometimes, if he felt like it, he would also play around with boys.
This must be the "Boss Liao" that Xiao Yuan had mentioned last night.
After some small talk, Xing Ming fled, excusing himself by claiming to want to admire the art. Yu Zhongye and Liao Hui sat behind him somewhere not far away. Even though he didn't intend to eavesdrop, the conversation between the two men still fully passed into his ears.
"I have invited my brother-in-law how many times? This is the very first time that you've accepted my invitation, and I'm supposed to be inattentive?"
"This is a place for young people. I, as an old man, needn't participate."
"Then why have you agreed to honor me, your younger brother, this time?"
"There's a kid from the TV Station that I wanted to bring out to meet some people."
"When I heard that you had brought a kid with you, I thought he would be Shao'ai. I wanted to say that, as his uncle, I've really missed him. After all these years, has he grown more handsome?"
Liao Hui was the type of person who thought, "In recent years, who still watches the news?" He didn't watch Pearl Line, so he certainly didn't know the formerly popular Host Xing. The not-so-popular Xing Ming had just finished appreciating the Chinese paintings called Gold and Tyrian Peonies in Bloom and Maid of the Tang Dynasty Court. Just when he was entering a state of boredom, he was suddenly attracted to painting called Ten Thousand Horses Standing Silent[1].
Strong muscles and bone structure, pulsing with vigor, the feelings it expressed was impressive. Xing Ming stared at that painting, feeling his heartbeat pounding like rumbling thunder. The forceful and vigorous feeling almost seemed to emerge from its thin paper background, as if it was pouncing into his face.
Ten Thousand Horses Standing Silent, or, in Chinese, Wan Ma Qi Yin.
Yin and Ming; silent and singing[2].
Xing Hong had always said that this idiom was a metaphor for media professionals.
According to Tang Wan, she had suffered a lot when she gave birth to Xing Ming. She had stayed in the delivery room for three days and three nights. She always compared the ordeal to the mythical Li Jing's wife, who was said to have taken a decade to give birth to Nezha, a young boy who would later become the Third Lotus Prince. But when Xing Ming was born, he hadn't cried until he'd been spanked by his grandmother with a bundle of garlic scapes. He'd cried out loud then, like the idiom of Yi Ming Jing Ren, which referred to the myth of a previously silent bird stunning the world with a single brilliant call. Supposedly, that was why he was Xing Ming.
But Xing Ming personally speculated over his father's original intentions; amongst the silent horses that were the public, there would always be someone to choose a different path, to go against the mainstream, yelling out from ignorance, from death throes, loud enough to overcome deafness.
It was so different from Yu Shao'ai's. "Shao'ai" of Qing Chun Shao Ai; youthful and carefree. What a blessed name.
"Brother-in-law, I must say, you're so cruel as a father. You threw Shao'ai overseas when he was so young. Not only did you never ask after him, but you also never gave him any allowance."
"He has scholarships, and he can take a part-time job." Yu Zhongye paused, his face remaining calm and placid. "He won't starve."
"I guess you can't get rid of those military ideals. When you used to use corporal punishment on Shao'ai, I felt so bad for him, even as an outsider."
"Spare the rod, spoil the child. There is truth in that old saying."
"It'll soon be time for Shao'ai to graduate, no? I've missed my godson so much…"
During the conversation, Liao Hui kept glancing at the nearby Xing Ming. At first, he did it stealthily like a voyeur, but after seeing that Yu Zhongye didn't seem to care, Liao Hui blatantly sized Xing Ming up. He did it just like he was measuring an object. The more he looked at him, the more satisfaction he felt, and the more carried away he became. Xing Ming had long legs and a trim waist. Liao Hui thought that it would be very nice to get such legs propped on his shoulders, that such a waist would feel very supple if it were cupped in his arms. He hadn't felt this sexually frantic in a while. The last time he could only think with his downstairs head like this, it was with a student in a communication university, a girl who'd been elegant in appearance but distant in bearing. In short, compared to overly attractive beauties, Liao Hui preferred the aloof type.
Staring at Xing Ming's silhouette, Liao Hui clicked his tongue and exclaimed, "Brother-in-law, your taste has become pickier and pickier."
Yu Zhongye also followed his eyes to look. Smiling, he said, "Has it?"
"I've already heard about what happened last night from Xiao Yuan." Liao Hui looked coarse and his words were equally unsubtle. "You used to praise Xiao Yuan as being unique. What? Just two months, and now you won't even let him into your bed?"
Yu Zhongye's stare still remained on the solid and straight back of Xing Ming but the smile on his face had faded away. He only looked at him.
Liao Hui couldn't understand why Yu Zhongye had kicked Xiao Yuan out of the room. He wondered what was wrong with that perfect match, and asked with an incredulous face, "Brother-in-law, dare I say it? Do you intend to go monogamous for this kid?"
Yu Zhongye laughed out loud, saying nothing.
Xing Ming had his back toward the two men who were talking, but he could feel their eyes from behind him. Their gazes scorched him so much that he felt like he was under intense heat. The veins in his temple pulsed repeatedly.
Exhaling softly, he rubbed his temples and lowered his eyes, wanting to see this painting's artist.
"I've seen a lot of hosts. But to be honest, they were all too vulgar. Only the ones coming out from our Pearl Station are elegant and charming." Liao Hui's lust was aroused, and his lewd heart was moved, so his words became wild and careless. "Brother-in-law, if you really like him, as your younger brother, I definitely won't touch him. But if you're just playing with him, if he's just a fling, then how about lending him to me? Would you?"
Xing Ming's eyes moved to the artist biography of Ten Thousand Horses Standing Silent, but all of a sudden, he felt faint. The few clear lines of characters became strangely blurry.
Who made this art? How will Yu Zhongye reply? His heart pounded and his mind wheeled.
Yu Zhongye didn't speak, so Liao Hui promptly kept asking, "Can't spare him?"
"No such thing." Yu Zhongye smiled and he raised his voice: "Come here, young Xing."
Liao Hui welcomed Xing Ming by pulling out a chair, putting his hand on Xing Ming's shoulder to have him sit by his side. His grin was radiant and vigorous with flattering attentiveness—only a male dog in rut meeting a female dog in heat would display such fawning behavior.
Liao Hui informed them that a pharmaceutical company under a branch of Sheng-Yu was promoting new products and preparing to launch an upcoming liver medicine. He intended to become a sponsor for Pearl Station's program but was too lazy to attend the investment attraction meeting, so he directly asked for a collaboration here.
"You come to my place tonight. We have to have a long talk about the sponsorship." First offering benefits, then he asked for payment. When Boss Liao of Sheng-Yu met prey that interested him, he'd always been generous. Moreover, this trick had always worked for the prey he targeted. Through back and forth "trades," they would then pay him back with their bodies.
Liao Hui put his hand on Xing Ming's thighs, groping and caressing them for a while. Even in public, Xing Ming noticed the restlessness of that hand, that it yearned to roam over his body. He was reminded of that pair of moist, sticky, triangular eyes in the gay bar. It turned out that all men in heat would look like that.
Yu Zhongye asked Xing Ming if he was willing.
Xing Ming didn't speak, just slightly raised his chin, staring straight at Yu Zhongye.
This place had one side facing the ocean and the other three against mountains. As soon as they'd come here, the shadiness and darkness of the encroaching plum rains had completely swept away. The sunshine was bright and beautiful and would overwhelmingly sprinkle down on one's skin. Then it seemed to penetrate through the texture of the skin, lighting the person up from inside out. Xing Ming found that he could hardly put up a façade and look into the eyes of this man under such captivating sunshine.
This was thanks to Liao Hui. Just then, he had kept humble, obediently lowering his eyebrows and gaze in Yu Zhongye's presence, hiding his temper—especially the type that belonged in bed. It was simply because Liao Hui had offered Xing Ming the grounds to be on an equal footing with Yu Zhongye. If a man knew that he still had a way out, then he wouldn't lose too badly.
The first time Xing Ming met Yu Zhongye, he felt Yu Zhongye looked familiar. Such a feeling of déjà vu was usually described as "love at first sight" in literature. It would start with the passion of new romance and end with the strength of long-term love. But Xing Ming wasn't like that. Back in that study, with rain falling outside the window, he had indeed seen the spirit of Xing Hong in Yu Zhongye's body even though they looked completely different. The essence of Xing Hong was much more honest, simple, and amicable, probably what most people called being down-to-earth. In contrast, Yu Zhongye seemed to have been born on a higher plane of existence, to have always had a good grasp on situations even while remaining silent. The contours of his eyes were elegant, and the arc of his mouth was full of tenderness and affection. There was only a slight wrinkle near the corner of the eyes on his face, but this was more a sign of experience and maturity that added even more charm to his countenance, without any signs of the vicissitudes of life.
Xing Ming closely stared into Yu Zhongye's eyes, eagerly seeking a response in them. It did not matter whether it was an expression of unhappiness or mocking. In short, it just had to be a little bit of something in there to made him feel that he wasn't just an object or a pet that could casually be thrown away.
Last night, the intimacy and affection between them was so obviously scorching that no outsider could fit, but right at this moment, Yu Zhongye's eyes were deep, freezing, relentless, and calm like the surface of water without any ripples.
Their gazes intertwined for a while, but then Xing Ming suddenly felt dejected. The grudges and resentment from that time when he had once succumbed to the man, they all surged forth and emerged, then promptly turned into an idea of revenge.
You asked if I was willing.Comparing the chairman of Pearl Station to the president of the Sheng-Yu corporate group, it's like discovering how beyond mountains there are taller mountains.Why shouldn't I be willing?
Xing Ming took back the gaze which he'd cast on Yu Zhongye, turned his face, and smiled at Liao Hui. The smile looked shameless and extremely sexy, "Sounds great, I wanted to learn more from Boss Liao as well."
Liao Hui laughed out loud, blinking his eyes at Yu Zhongye, "Thank you, brother-in-law!"
Yu Zhongye also smiled. Then, the two men kept chatting on about something finance- and politics-related, but Xing Ming didn't hear it clearly. At this point, his eardrums only heard loud roaring. A moment later, a man arrived. He had a pointed, half-bald head but a thick, salt-and-pepper beard, like an inverted radish. Based on his words, he seemed to work with the Chinese Artist Association and wanted to invite Yu Zhongye to give a calligraphy showing at their organized painting exhibition. Mr. Pointed Head used his best efforts to fulfill his duty in flattery, praising upon arrival that Yu Zhongye's calligraphy and paintings were divine masterpieces. His grizzled beard fluttered and flapped in the breeze as his spit splattered everywhere.
Yu Zhongye used a particularly light and relaxed smile to completely brush the compliments aside as they started to talk with each other. The content of the conversation was sometimes elegant, while sometimes vulgar. They talked about impressionist ideas on naturalistic landscapes, the magnetism of ink painting, and a notorious painter who'd recently been cast out by the Chinese Artist Association because of his crime of "assembling a crowd for group promiscuity."
Liao Hui couldn't understand the conversation, nor was he interested in it, so he stood up and told Yu Zhongye, "Brother-in-law, I'm going to leave with young Xing." After finishing his words, he dragged Xing Ming from the chair.
Xing Ming obediently followed Liao Hui. After walking a few steps, he subconsciously turned back to glance at Yu Zhongye, but Yu Zhongye was talking cheerfully to that painter from the Chinese Artist Association and didn't seem to realize that he had already left.
He went for wool and came back shorn; he tried to take advantage only to get taken advantage of. The pleasure of revenge immediately vanished—this man did not seem care about it at all.
Well, it wasn't as if they were cherished lovers, both contributing to an important relationship. It was just giving and taking, a simple carnal trade of back-scratching.
Boss Liao's car was just like him, frivolous and grandiose in appearance, with glamourous colors like a venomous viper. It was said that this was a concept vehicle which had only recently been approved for production. It hadn't been sold in the market yet. In a few months, it would officially come out in a car show in one of the bigger cities. As both of them sat in the car, Liao Hui asked Xing Ming, "Where to?"
"Anywhere." Xing Ming turned his head to one side. How cheerily he'd laughed just earlier; how spiritless he'd become now. Either way, as long as he stayed away from that shrewd old fox…
Along the way, Liao Hui babbled and chattered unceasingly. Xing Ming only said a sentence or two to be nice. Otherwise, he just kept silent. In the end, Liao Hui felt bored, saying, "I thought hosts like you guys had the gift of gab. Clever and eloquent."
"There are some clever and eloquent ones at the Station."
"But your chairman only gives special attention to you." Seeing that Xing Ming hadn't spoken again, Liao Hui continued on his own, "I would say, Yu Zhongye treats you pretty well."
Xing Ming no longer looked out the window at the ominously blue ocean, instead turning his head to stare at Liao Hui.
"What? You're so despondent. You don't believe me?" Liao Hui also turned his head to look at Xing Ming with a strangely complicated smile on his face. "I've known him longer than you have, yet he has never brought his bedpartner out to meet people."
Liao Hui had another ulterior motive for why he was giving Xing Ming special treatment. Enjoying what the others had left behind was disgusting, but sleeping with the person who had slept with Yu Zhongye gave him a particular sense of pride and honor.
Xing Ming lowered his eyes and saw a Hermès belt tied around Liao Hui's waist with bright shining letters in the middle. Except for the color, it was the same as the one that Yu Zhongye had taken away from him.
Liao Hui freed one hand from the steering wheel, cupped Xing Ming's face and kissed him, giving the impression of extreme wealth. "Babe, if you like it, I can give you a whole set of these."
Feeling the ocean breeze, watching the seascape, tasting seafood, Liao Hui felt strangely like he wanted to do this slowly, to conquer Xing Ming little by little, to enthrall him bit by bit. But Xing Ming was fed up with this type of romantic foreplay. They were all adults, so they should directly take off their pants and finish everything as soon as they were in agreement. Why waste time?
Hence, he took the initiative to say that it would be better to go back to the hotel.
Liao Hui originally had the same resolve to go slowly as an alcoholic did in "tasting" wine, so he rejoiced at how willing Xing Ming was to get straight to the point. Quickly, he started the car's 16-cylinder engine and brought them back to the hotel.
It was not quite ten at night when Yu Zhongye, who was practicing calligraphy in the study, heard a series of pounding sounds on the door.
After he opened the door, a man fell straight into his arms. It was Xing Ming. He seemed to have rushed here, panting open-mouthed, with blood stains all over his face and body.
"I… I can't do it." Xing Ming sank his head into Yu Zhongye's chest, his voice shaking.
Yu Zhongye frowned slightly and pinched Xing Ming's chin, raising it up toward his face. His thumb rubbed across the younger man's eyebrows and eyes and then wiped the blood on his face—Xing Ming was not severely injured. Only his cheeks were a little bit swollen and his forehead was slightly scraped. It was someone else's blood that was stuck to his face.
"I can't do it… I can't do it…" Xing Ming half-knelt on the ground, his hands tightly grasping Yu Zhongye's arms, repeatedly saying, "I can't do it."
Within two minutes, Liao Hui had brought his men into the room. He had a bleeding wound on his head, wound open like a crimson mouth. It looked scary, but based on a quick assessment, the injury wasn't too bad. Liao Hui remained energetic, his eyes glaring, neither pale nor faint.
"I am going to fucking kill you!" As one of Liao Hui's hands covered his wound, the other hand pointed at Xing Ming's nose, cursing, "You ungrateful whore!"
Xing Ming was in Yu Zhongye's arms, meaning Liao Hui couldn't take immediate action, so he pushed aside his bangs to show his bloody forehead, saying, "Brother-in-law, what am I to do?"
The forehead covered with trickling blood and gore looked frightening, but really the wound was just an inch or so, inflicted by a sharp object. Compared to when Xing Ming had injured Ol' Chen, who had collapsed and lost consciousness on the spot, Liao Hui had already gotten off lucky.
"I thought something serious had happened." Liao Hui had always had a bunch of shady colleagues, akin to the most vicious dogs and the most wicked wolves. At this moment, among the people standing in this room, some of them were even holding iron rods. The situation seemed pretty scary, yet Yu Zhongye just gently smiled, patted Xing Ming's shoulder, and said lightly. "Go and apologize to Boss Liao."
If Yu Zhongye didn't intend to save him, based on Boss Liao's temper, Xing Ming might be killed right on the spot. Xing Ming lifted his face to look at Yu Zhongye like he was crying for help, but it was hard to tell from Yu Zhongye's expression whether the man had hidden any intention on helping, since his eyes were still tranquil and deep, callous yet ambiguous. Xing Ming hesitated for a while, but in the end, he finally obediently walked toward Liao Hui.
Before opening his mouth, he heard the man behind him say, "Kneel down."
Yu Zhongye's voice was slow and heavy, with an undeniably oppressive feel to it.
People say a man should have dignity and not grovel or bow down. At present however, he had to do this to save his life. Xing Ming still hesitated, dilly-dallying. Finally, he slowly knelt down on the ground, groveling in front of Liao Hui.
"Boss Liao—"
The roast duck had not only flown away, but also pecked his hand. Liao Hui, who was already having a hard time suppressing his anger, didn't even wait for Xing Ming to kneel down properly before he slapped Xing Ming across the face.
This slap was so fierce that a pounding sound resounded in Xing Ming's head. It was like booming thunder on a sunny day, exploding right by his eardrums. His eyes were wide open, and a bloody taste filled his mouth due to damage in its delicate inner membranes. The shock was even greater than anger. In the past, for test scores, competitions, or certain other naughty things, Xing Hong would use a belt to whip him. So Xing Ming would escape, hide, or argue, trying hard to defend himself regardless of right or wrong… In short, after more than twenty years of living, he had never obediently taken a beating from someone else.
Xing Ming swallowed a mouthful of saliva and blood, lifted his face, and coldly looked at Liao Hui, grinding his teeth with cracking sounds.
Those eyes were so prickly and sharp that the attacker almost felt like he was being assaulted. Thinking that one slap was not enough, Liao Hui raised his hand to give Xing Ming another.
Yu Zhongye's voice came over at just the right time. "That's enough."
Liao Hui's hand had to stop in midair, since even he dared not continue his slap. Instead, he raised both his hands above his head in a gesture of surrender and slowly retreated by two steps.
"Given that my brother-in-law has spoken, of course I must show him respect. However," after a pause, Liao Hui abruptly gave a fiercely sharp grin, "I shall not be beaten for free."
"You want to have the title sponsorship of Pearl Station's program," Yu Zhongye slightly smiled, making a concession, "Okay."
"I only want the best." Since they had gone straight to business, Liao Hui felt slightly satisfied. The advertisement bidding meeting of Pearl Station had not yet been held, but If People Love Beauty had enormous capital, an experienced senior production team, and a wide range of abundant platform resources. Online, it was said that a Fast-Moving Consumer Goods enterprise had intended to offer a bid of up to 1.2 billion yuan. Though it was unclear if it was truth or rumor, it clearly showed various people were extremely interested in it. For Sheng-Yu, 1.2 billion yuan was just like a drop in the ocean, but Liao Hui was too lazy to bid with the nouveau riche of the dairy and wine industries. He had proposed the collaboration to Yu Zhongye twice previously but had received no response. This time, however, Yu Zhongye had personally made the promise, and he didn't even seem to care too much about the possibility of embarrassment to his personal image.
Yu Zhongye said, "Of course it'll be the best."
Liao Hui slightly controlled the fierceness in his eyes, "You want me to pay 1.2 billion?"
Yu Zhongye replied, "Fifty million."
"Fifty million?" Liao Hui felt dubious, "If People Love Beauty is only worth fifty million?"
"I didn't say 'If People Love Beauty'; I only said 'the best.' If you have a top-notch rating for a variety show, it's normal for the earnings from the channel and advertisements to start in the billions. But in terms of the popularity, reputation, and the audience penetration brought by its brand image, they are far less useful than news programs. Right now, the program in question only costs fifty million, but it has a prospect of two billion." Yu Zhongye slightly lowered his eyes, taking a look at Xing Ming, "Oriental TV Line will be the best show from Pearl Station."
These words were like a flame burning his heart, and it was impossible for Xing Ming to ignore it. He lifted his face, throwing his most passionate yet hesitant stare towards Yu Zhongye. But Yu Zhongye's eyes had already withdrawn from him. He was still showing that callous and handsome side of his face. Under the hotel lights, it seemed sometimes distant and sometimes close, like an ocean mirage. He was unfathomable, making people want to approach yet also to not dare move.
"I can definitely pay this measly sum, regardless of its returned revenue. It's just like tossing money into the water. But I have to discipline this kid today, not for me, but for you, brother-in-law." Having attained his current position, Boss Liao was certainly not an idiot. He understood what Yu Zhongye had meant, but was still not able to forgive the issue. "The media professionals regard 'a loose tongue' as their taboo for the trouble it could cause. You've stayed in the circle for many years, you've witnessed the living, the dead, and the ones struggling between living and death, and you understand the lessons from them. A wild and unruly temper like this isn't a good thing for this kid or for your Pearl Station."
Yu Zhongye laughed, and the atmosphere of bitter and intense hostility which had just moments ago felt like drawn swords and bent bows, seemed to diminish with his laugh. Then, he said, "He's my man, so he's mine to discipline."
"Since brother-in-law has said so, how could I say any different? That's it, then; it's done." Liao Hui grinned, showing his white teeth and shrugging in a seemingly relaxed way. Then he turned as if to leave—but before taking more than two steps, he suddenly turned back and, quickly seizing an iron rod from his subordinate's hand, raised his hands to smash it onto Xing Ming's head.
No one was able to react in time, including Xing Ming himself. Liao Hui's blow had held his utmost power, aiming for the kill.
Wind rumbled past his ears and Xing Ming paled, his eyes wide-open in panic. He saw the thick black shadow hurtling toward his face, never expecting it to suddenly stop right above his head—
Yu Zhongye had raised his arm just in time, protecting Xing Ming's head from the blow.
The collision between the iron and flesh made an appalling sound of cracking, like the fracturing sound of a forearm bone. Still, Yu Zhongye had blocked Liao Hui without giving an inch. He frowned slightly, his calm eyes staring at Liao Hui, then said, one word at a time, "I said, I will discipline him."
Liao Hui left bitterly and angrily. As soon this group of gang members walked out of the hotel room, Xing Ming was pushed onto the bed by Yu Zhongye.
The force of Yu Zhongye's hands was so overwhelming that Xing Ming was almost powerless to resist. Instinct drove him to struggle a bit, but then he lost strength and obediently allowed Yu Zhongye to tear his shirt and pants apart and strip them off.
He was stripped bare, like the flesh of a fruit that had been peeled from its shell, exposing itself unreservedly. Xing Ming lay with both hands on the bed and his knees bent down in a kneel, his back toward Yu Zhongye. The dim lights in the hotel reflected from his skin in a way that made it seem even paler. It was so fair that it appeared stainless, untainted, and almost transparent.
Suddenly, a belt fiercely slammed into Xing Ming's back, and that ashen-pale skin immediately grew a freshly bloody welt.
The "discipline" Yu Zhongye had mentioned was not some ambiguous euphemism. The belt in his hand swung up and down, each slap genuinely smashing into Xing Ming's back. But Xing Ming suddenly felt relieved from the pain, as if the slight panic, unwillingness, and rage inside his heart had found the gate for release—many people had said that the reason he was not obedient enough all boiled down to the fact that he had grown up without a father around to discipline him.
Soon his back became messy with bruises and bloodstains, but Xing Ming only clenched his teeth, not uttering a sound. He stabilized his body, not swinging or shaking, with just his flushed, dripping cock hanging at his crotch, swaying to the rhythm of the belt's blows.
After about two dozen lashes with the whip, just like their first time together, that man tied the belt tight around Xing Ming's neck and entered from behind.
Unlubricated, the dry hole suffered from its breaching, and Xing Ming struggled involuntarily, his arm swinging to grasp the injured right arm of Yu Zhongye.
"Laoshi, your arm…" Yu Zhongye's cock had only gone in half way. Xing Ming still preserved a little bit of consciousness and feared that he would enrage his bedpartner.
"It doesn't matter." Yu Zhongye raised Xing Ming up almost completely with just one hand, trapping him entirely in his embrace. He forcefully thrust in, bottoming out in one rush.
Xing Ming sat in Yu Zhongye's lap, his wound-ridden back rubbing back and forth against Yu Zhongye's chest. Agony and pleasure fervently intertwined. He clumsily participated, spreading apart his thighs with great effort and pulling his body up and down and up and down, trying to get the length inside him to reach more deeply, despite that length having already explored so deeply and oppressively that it felt like it would burst out of his abdomen at any moment.
The hard cock in the soft cavity thrusted back and forth and rubbed in circles. Then, Yu Zhongye suddenly raised his hand to press on the back of Xing Ming's neck, forcing him to lower his head and look at that thing.
Xing Ming was forced to look down. The thing at Yu Zhongye's crotch was quite frightening. The shaft, almost purple and bulging with veins, thrusted quickly in and out in between his two thighs, occasionally changing its angles, rubbing the soft flesh at the rim and making it glisten seductively as it laboriously gorged on the girth of that cock.
His own penis had long since been hard as well, the slit not just moist but shimmering, constantly drooling with slick fluids.
Such a sight was shameful yet also arousing. Xing Ming was enraptured, continuously moaning.
This time their coupling ended more quickly than usual. Shortly after Xing Ming came, Yu Zhongye also shot a molten load inside of Xing Ming.
Xing Ming stood up and put on his clothes. After a quick tidying up, he called the hotel to send someone up with a medical kit. He carefully examined Yu Zhongye's injured right arm, then cut the gauze into long stripes and bandaged it up to stop the bleeding with an experienced technique.
"If you're still worried, you can go to the hospital and get an x-ray, but I'm certain that this is just a slight wrist fracture. You're lucky since you've got the forearm muscles of a soldier. On a normal person, that impact would definitely have caused a complete bone fracture, and the resulting bone repair and recovery would not be nearly so easy as what you have."
"I forgot that you were a medical student." Yu Zhongye lowered his head, looking into Xing Ming's eyes. The burning lust and desire had already cooled down, the sticky body fluid had already been cleaned. They just looked like the most average boss and subordinate, teacher and student. From head to toe, their relationship was distant and orderly, presenting complete propriety and politeness both inside and out. "Why did you want to join the news industry?"
"I remember that I answered that question in your class before," Xing Ming concentrated on making the wrist splint, intending to stabilize the wound on the forearm for Yu Zhongye, "In recent years, there are always groups of people who have dreams about journalism. Aren't there many people who would give up medicine for the liberal arts?"
Yu Zhongye didn't seem to fully believe his words, "Since you had dreams of journalism, why didn't you directly choose a journalism-related major?"
Xing Ming stopped the work he was doing to think it over, then said, "My mom didn't like it."
"Why?"
"There's an old saying about how people who act naïvely might actually have a crafty mind, like a wolf in sheep's clothing. I'm like that." Xing Ming lowered his head again, patiently using the gauze to stabilize the splint, then he wrapped it over the wounded arm, 'round and 'round. "There isn't a reason. My mom thinks that being a journalist is high risk profession. She thinks that my personality would get me killed."
This was quite true. Yu Zhongye laughed, "What about your father?"
Xing Ming's hand shook noticeably.
Yu Zhongye then asked, "You don't want to talk about it?"
"Not really. He has passed away many years ago. There's nothing to say." Xing Ming knew that he couldn't hide from Yu Zhongye's eyes, so instead, he lifted his face, boldly looking at him, "I don't want Sheng-Yu's sponsorship."
The arm had already been well-bandaged, and Yu Zhongye seemed a little bit tired. He gently closed his eyes. "Why are you making trouble again?"
"I'm not trying to make trouble…" Too many incidents had transpired tonight. Even though they had expended so much time and energy, the sun still had not come out yet. Xing Ming was worried that Yu Zhongye would say he didn't know when to take a chance, so he quickly added, "Actually, I'm trying to get something else."
"Oh?" Yu Zhongye opened his eyes, showing an expression of curiosity. "So rare for you to take initiative and ask for something like today. What do you want?"
Xing Ming originally wanted to take back the Longines watch he had given to Ol' Lin, but he really could not interpret Chairman Yu's mood; whether he was pleased or agitated, nor could he accurately guess Chairman Yu's likes or dislikes. Therefore, he decided to try to live on the edge by carefully planning and calculating the potential costs of this moment versus the possible benefits of the future. Rather than being afraid to offend Ol' Lin, he was terrified of going back to that state of nothingness where he had to accept all situations with goodwill since there was nothing and no one that he could rely on.
There was a widely known line of lyrics which was particularly true—"Those who are favored have nothing to fear."
"I want a painting," Xing Ming paused for a second, "Ten Thousand Horses Standing Silent. I saw it at the outdoor art exhibition."
Yu Zhongye asked him, "Did you like it?"
"Yeah," Xing Ming said truthfully, using all the knowledge about paintings and calligraphy that he had learned from his father. "It's been a while since I've seen such a bold and unrestrained painting. It should be regarded as one of the exemplars of contemporary Chinese paintings."
"Could you understand it?"
"I wouldn't say that I could fully understand it, but I think the artist of this painting is someone who is idealistic but also very unsatisfied and cynical. And he's probably also fairly young with deeply suppressed passions and ambitions." Xing Ming paused. "Just like me."
"Do you know who this painting's illustrator is?"
"I don't know." Xing Ming shook his head. At the time of viewing, his mind had wandered, which meant he really didn't know who it was.
But he found that Yu Zhongye's gaze had become a little bit strange, like he was maybe critical, maybe stunned, or maybe suspicious. In any case, he had revealed a rare hint of emotion, and, for all that it was tiny and nearly undetectable, it truly did exist.
Xing Ming straightforwardly stared at him until Yu Zhongye's gaze gradually shifted, returning to a waveless stillness.
After he finished bandaging the wound, Xing Ming stood up in farewell and prepared to go back to his room. Unexpectedly, he heard Yu Zhongye say, "Stay here tonight."
He secretly sighed in relief; he didn't really dare to leave Yu Zhongye at the moment. Boss Liao of Sheng-Yu had a dreadful history of malicious deeds. As soon as Xing Ming left the room, he would probably be chopped to pieces and thrown into the sea to feed the fish.
"But I… I can't lie down." Xing Ming said, turning around. The wounds on his back were even more painful now.
"Come here."
Xing Ming obediently climbed onto the bed and, avoiding Yu Zhongye's injured right arm, threw himself into his embrace. With his butt to the ceiling, he shamelessly lay down on that man. Coincidentally, he met the lowered gaze of Yu Zhongye, so they instinctively kissed each other. Their lips were cold but their tongues were warm. They both gave and took in turns, rendering the kiss exceptionally tender.
After the kiss, Yu Zhongye used his wounded right hand to gently caress Xing Ming's back, which had many wounds. The other hand gripping his chin, he said, "In the future, I forbid it."
"Forbid" it? Forbid what? Forbid him from making trouble, forbid him from beating people up? Or forbid him from climbing into other people's beds behind his back?
[1] The original Chinese name, Wan Ma Qi Yin, means "10000 horses simultaneously mute/silenced." Historically, it has symbolized a public that dares not speak. Nowadays, it also describes oppressive political situations.
[2] Xing Ming's given name, "Ming," is the verb used for birdsong or birdcall. It is opposite in meaning yet parallel in form to "Yin," the character in the title of the painting that means "mute" or "silent."