Ning Zhuo walked up to Shan Feibai and leaned down to look at him.
He left Shan Feibai with a set of exoskeleton equipment and unlocked a fifteen-minute usage permit, allowing him to clean himself up in the little washroom inside the dark room.
As expected, Shan Feibai’s vanity hadn’t lessened one bit—locked up as he was, he still hadn’t forgotten to shave.
Ning Zhuo lifted Shan Feibai’s chin using his steel spine like a whip, carefully examining the look in his eyes. Then he gently flicked Shan Feibai’s cheek, leaving a faint red mark.
“Sleep well?”
Shan Feibai’s eyes curved into a smile. “Very well.”
He was still gazing at Ning Zhuo with infatuated adoration, but there was no flattery in that gaze—only pure, fervent affection.
Ning Zhuo felt a little creeped out under his stare and nudged the steel spine slightly into Shan Feibai’s eye socket. “What are you looking at?”
The dangerous closeness made Shan Feibai’s heart surge wildly, his chest rising and falling without control. He avoided answering, murmuring instead, “…This is great. I don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“Pretend what?”
Shan Feibai lifted his chin and said outright, happily, “Pretend I don’t want to f*ck you.”
Ning Zhuo watched him for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh.
He stepped closer, aligning Shan Feibai’s steel spine with the socket at the back of his neck, holding his neck steady and inserting it halfway—just enough to restore a little sensation in his limbs, but not enough to let him move.
Ning Zhuo gently parted Shan Feibai’s knees with the tip of his foot, resting his perpetually cold foot lightly between them.
At the thought of where this solid, weighty thing had been the day before and that very morning, a flicker of hot blue sparks shot up Ning Zhuo’s own spine.
As he toyed with Shan Feibai, Ning Zhuo murmured softly, “I came to talk about something.”
His expression remained cold and untouchable as he got to the real reason: “About Jin Xueshen—I want Yu Shifei involved as well. I heard the two of them are close. This way, Haina and Panqiao’s relationship can deepen too.”
“Funny, isn’t it? We’re like water and fire—can’t get along—but the people under us are close. They’re just scared we’ll find out, so they sneak around in secret.”
“Do you think… we’re holding them back?”
Shan Feibai stared at Ning Zhuo’s leg.
From his angle, Ning Zhuo’s legs looked long and straight, perfectly shaped, the muscles warm and springy. They shifted subtly with each teasing, punishing movement of his foot.
Yet compared to the intimacy of his actions, Ning Zhuo’s words sounded casual and careless—like talking to a dog.
Shan Feibai felt like he was burning up inside, his back pressed against the wall, breathing in short, painful gasps.
He never bothered to hold back, letting out soft little noises—pleasant, almost like a small animal, rising and falling naturally, or perhaps deliberately seductive.
Ning Zhuo found the sound rather enjoyable and asked with unusual warmth, “What’s so good about this, hmm?”
Footsteps echoed outside.
Shan Feibai let out a short breath. “Not good at all… Ning-ge, why are you here so early?”
Ning Zhuo gave a cold laugh, almost amused. “What, you think I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I came here just to screw you?”
Shan Feibai looked to the side, smiling slightly, and shrugged.
The next second, he curled up from the pain, cold sweat pouring down his face, soaking his temples in no time.
Ning Zhuo crouched down, asking without a trace of pity, “Did I step too hard?”
At that moment, the sounds of footsteps and quiet conversation drifted in from outside.
Both Haina’s and Panqiao’s people were there.
Yawning, Kuang Hexuan greeted Boss Fu, who was carrying a big pot of congee from the kitchen. “Morning, Boss Fu. You’re here early.”
At first, Panqiao’s people had been unsure what to call Boss Fu.
Kuang Hexuan had even suspected that Haina was hiding Boss Fu’s real name on purpose—trying to fool them into accepting Haina’s boss as their own.
Yu Shifei had received many such complaints and had gone to Jin Xueshen specifically to ask Boss Fu’s real name.
Unexpectedly, Jin Xueshen had answered cheerfully, “No idea.”
Yu Shifei: “?”
Jin Xueshen: “He said that was all in the past, not worth mentioning. Our people only know his surname is Fu. Ning Zhuo’s been with him the longest—maybe he knows. Ask him.”
In the end, Panqiao’s people got used to Boss Fu’s cooking.
His skills were terribly average, but whenever they wanted a bite and didn’t have time, they could always find Boss Fu—and there’d always be a hot meal.
It’s hard to complain when someone feeds you. Over time, Panqiao’s people willingly called him Boss Fu.
Boss Fu smiled in return to Kuang Hexuan’s greeting. “Beef congee today. Eat plenty.”
Looking around the dining hall, he chuckled. “Quite a crowd this morning.”
Kuang Hexuan grinned broadly. “Right? Everyone had a feast and some drinks last night. Woke up with empty stomachs this morning—been craving your hot food since dawn.”
Seeing Boss Fu laugh made Kuang Hexuan feel a deep warmth.
His father had died young. Looking at Boss Fu, he couldn’t help but think—if his dad had lived, maybe he’d laugh like that too.
Leaning closer, he lowered his voice and asked, “Um… have you seen Ning-ge?”
Boss Fu raised an eyebrow in surprise, lowering his voice as well. “You’re asking me?”
Kuang Hexuan fidgeted a little. “Well… isn’t he one of yours?”
“Got business with him?”
“Not exactly…” Kuang Hexuan licked his lips, a suspicious flush creeping onto his cheeks. “Last time he beat me up, I figured out a few ways to break his moves. I wanted to try them out. Been stalking the training room for days, but I haven’t seen him.”
Boss Fu chuckled knowingly and handed him a full bowl of beef congee. “Then ask Feibai.”
Kuang Hexuan scratched his head, taking the bowl with both hands, looking troubled. “I haven’t seen our boss either…”
A lifetime brawler, Kuang Hexuan had never suffered lovesickness—until now. The unfamiliar ache felt like a hundred claws scratching at his heart.
While they chatted, Jin Xueshen arrived as well.
He respectfully offered his lunchbox. “Boss.”
Boss Fu casually filled it to the brim and asked, “Xiao Xue, have you seen Ning Ning?”
Jin Xueshen’s face froze. “…No.”
Boss Fu said, “Tell him to come eat.”
Jin Xueshen: “Got it.”
On the surface, he looked calm and mild—but inside, his teeth ground together in envy.
To Boss Fu, who’d saved his life, Jin Xueshen always held the respect and admiration of a son for a father.
But as for Ning Zhuo—in Jin Xueshen’s eyes, he was that selfish, lawless, disrespectful brat who defied their father figure and yet somehow still got all his affection.
…Even though Ning Zhuo was younger than him.
That’s why Jin Xueshen took great care of his health, determined to win Boss Fu’s favor in the long run—at least outlive this so-called “big brother.”
No matter the season, he always showed up punctually at every mealtime.
And where he went, Yu Shifei would follow.
No one knew when this had become a rule.
Full of anger yet obedient, Jin Xueshen made a round trip to Ning Zhuo’s room, came back empty-handed, and ran into Yu Sifei at the entrance to the dining hall’s storage room.
Yu Sifei was holding a neatly plated small dish and raised it for Jin Xueshen to see. “Fresh hot biscuits on an iron tray. Served with chocolate.”
Jin Xueshen was so furious he became hungry, picked the nearest seat, and stuffed a biscuit into his mouth, puffing his cheeks.
Yu Sifei handed him a glass of milk. “Eating while angry is bad for digestion.”
Jin Xueshen grumbled, “I like it this way.”
Yu Sifei asked, “Did you see Ning Zhuo?”
The fire Jin Xueshen had just calmed flared up again. “Why does everyone ask me?! He’ll show up to eat before he starves to death!”
Yu Sifei said, “Don’t misunderstand. I just wanted to ask Ning Zhuo where our boss is.”
Jin Xueshen pulled the beef porridge back toward himself and resumed his fusion breakfast of East and West. “What about them? Off scheming again?”
Yu Sifei thought for a moment and replied seriously, “Possibly scheming and screwing.”
Jin Xueshen was caught off guard and laughed. “Didn’t expect you to have a sense of humor.”
Yu Sifei solemnly stared at him, making Jin Xueshen’s scalp tighten. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”
Yu Sifei said, “Their screwing—or not—concerns the future of both our groups. So I think it’s necessary to discuss it with you.”
Jin Xueshen’s spoon clanked against the bottom of the lunchbox.
He forced a laugh. “Are you crazy? Even jokes have to know their audience.”
Yu Sifei’s face didn’t change. “Besides, this could impact Ning Zhuo’s health. He’s barely recovered, and our boss choosing this time to do such things is rather reckless. Maybe we should find a way to talk them out of it.”
Jin Xueshen’s eyes widened in disbelief until he finally couldn’t take it anymore. His face turned red, and he grabbed Yu Sifei’s head, pressing their foreheads together as he quickly shot back, “You mean to say… they did it… and Ning Zhuo was the bottom?!”
Yu Sifei rubbed his forehead against Jin Xueshen’s, finding the texture pleasant. “Mm.”
Jin Xueshen was genuinely panicking now. “Our Ning—bah—Ning Zhuo’s body isn’t in shape for that! That bastard Shan Feibai’s a wild dog, an animal, to do this to him now?!”
Yu Sifei replied calmly, “I think so too, but sometimes physiological needs are—”
Jin Xueshen cut him off impatiently. “Evidence? Did you see them do that?”
Yu Sifei: “No. But I think it’s likely.”
Jin Xueshen finally sighed in relief, leaning back and pointing at him with his spoon from a distance. “…Ridiculous matchmaker. Ning Zhuo sleep with Shan Feibai? I’d sleep with you before he’d sleep with Shan Feibai.”
Yu Sifei: “Okay.”
Jin Xueshen’s emotions soared and crashed within seconds. His mouth had run away from him again, dragging himself into the mess. Hearing Yu Sifei shamelessly reply so seriously, his face turned scarlet, and he buried it in the steaming beef porridge, mumbling, “Screw you, stop taking advantage of me.”
Whatever they were saying outside, it reached Ning Zhuo’s ears only as a muddled, buzzing noise.
Shan Feibai, ever the opportunist, was skilled at seizing every chance.
No one knew how he’d managed to pester and hint enough to make Ning Zhuo let him “take care of things” one more time.
Shan Feibai got his spine back, obediently knelt on the floor, and with his briefly regained movement, carefully rolled up the hem of Ning Zhuo’s shirt, inch by inch, until it reached the top. He made Ning Zhuo bite onto the fabric.
At first, Ning Zhuo refused.
Shan Feibai whispered, “Ning-ge, you wouldn’t want our people to walk in and see us like this, right?”
With no choice, Ning Zhuo bit the hem of his own shirt, letting him proceed.
But Shan Feibai, harboring a bellyful of wickedness, deliberately teased him just as Ning Zhuo was about to finish. He used his tongue to hold him back, making Ning Zhuo grab his hair in fury, lifting a leg to stomp his shoulder, as a ring of warm moisture spread on the white shirt at his mouth. Only then did Shan Feibai stop with a grin.
Even the faintest approaching footsteps outside made their silent blood race, like walking a tightrope between skyscrapers—a thrilling, secret affair.
After thoroughly serving Ning Zhuo, Shan Feibai finally revealed his true colors.
Looping a chain twice around Ning Zhuo’s neck, he could at last hold Ning Zhuo as much as he wanted.
Ning Zhuo, in a surprisingly good mood from the treatment, noticed his hands wandering and, amused and annoyed, didn’t stop him. “Shan, are you here for unlimited refills?”
Shan Feibai laughed, burying his face in Ning Zhuo’s chest. “So will you let me have them?”
Ning Zhuo closed his eyes. “Not again. Or I’ll castrate you.”
Bold as ever, Shan Feibai dared to suck lightly on his lips. Sweat ran down his temple, sparkling like drops of water. “Sure. Then I’ll mold myself into whatever shape Ning-ge likes.”
…
Meanwhile, at the “White Shield” headquarters building, explosive news arrived.
Officer Xiao Xu, once Lin Qin’s junior, burst into Lin Qin’s office like a whirlwind. “Lin-ge, we… we fished up… we fished up a…”
After the Columbus Memorial Concert Hall explosion, debris floated all over the nearby sea. Xiao Xu had been sent to lead a recovery team—officially to “search for clues,” but really the “White Shield” higher-ups just wanted to stall for time and make the organization seem useful.
In name, it was a recovery team. In truth, it was a cleanup crew.
Lin Qin was reviewing intel squeezed from mercenaries who had trailed Ning Zhuo. Hearing this, he didn’t rush to ask, but calmly poured Xiao Xu a glass of water. Only after he drank it did Lin Qin speak: “What did you find?”
After gulping the water and catching his breath, Xiao Xu finally uttered the words that made Lin Qin leap to his feet:
“Honbu Takeshi… We pulled up Honbu Takeshi!”
Lin Qin’s voice turned low. “How did you find him?”
Xiao Xu wiped his mouth. “We were told to fish out debris, right? We found this huge chunk of concrete near the shore. I thought it looked fishy—probably some gang hit where they cemented someone. But we couldn’t just toss it back in. Had to check it properly. So we cracked it open—and there he was. Honbu Takeshi.”
“Every part of him that could be replaced had been swapped with cheap prosthetics and organs. His face was covered in copper plating… I’ve never seen such brutality. It didn’t look like some average gang vendetta. We ran the DNA, and sure enough, it’s Honbu Takeshi. Even finding unscarred skin to draw blood from was a struggle…”
Lin Qin stood up. “Let’s go. To the forensics lab.”
Xiao Xu waved frantically and dropped an even bigger bombshell. “No… not the lab. He’s still alive.”
