The Disliked Shou and the Charming Gong : Chapter 21: It Really Is Unequal

He Ning dragged out the last syllable of his words, carrying a few parts impatience as he told him to get lost.

But Wen Junhe acted as if he heard nothing. He raised his knuckles and clamped He Ning’s jaw, kissing him back without allowing any discussion, the force fierce and urgent, as if trying to block all the unfinished words back into his throat.

The desk was knocked with a dull thud. Documents scattered across the floor. He Ning was completely pressed into that mess, his back against the cold desktop while his front was met with burning hot body temperature.

He gasped for breath rapidly, his palm pressing against Wen Junhe’s shoulder trying to push him away. The intimacy from not long ago had barely just stopped, and now here it came again. He Ning was practically furious, his voice carrying a bit of gritted teeth: “Wen Junhe, I don’t want to right now. Let me go!”

But the person in front of him paid no attention. His fingers had already picked open the bathrobe’s tie and were slowly sliding up his thigh.

That bathrobe was something Wen Junhe had specially picked out. Moon white, making He Ning’s entire person look clear and clean. But now the lapel was in disarray, carrying a meaning of trying to cover up something that was already obvious.

A muffled hum of anger escaped from He Ning’s throat. His back neck pulled into a sharp line. He struggled trying to break free, but Wen Junhe’s arm was like an iron cast cage, fitting him seamlessly into his embrace. He Ning’s frame was a full circle smaller than his. When he struggled, his knee hit the other person’s waist and abdomen, which instead seemed like he was actively rubbing himself against the person.

“You really are sick!”

Before He Ning’s cursing could finish, it was cut off by a sudden whirl of heaven and earth. Wen Junhe pinned both his wrists together behind his back with one hand, flipped him over, while his other hand already lifted the hem at his lower back. Warm lips pressed against his shoulder blade. He Ning shuddered violently and heard a devil’s whisper from behind: “I think sometimes, no matter how much explaining you do, it’s not as direct as doing.”

Fuck!

He Ning cursed in his heart.

This bastard Wen Junhe was simply born with natural talent.

The bathrobe belt had long come loose during the tangle, now hanging precariously at the crook of his arm, swaying out a seductive arc with the struggling movements.

Wen Junhe’s fingertips were like carrying electric current, precisely sweeping across every hypersensitive zone of He Ning, from his tensed waistline to his protruding shoulder blades.

He was so skilled, as if a pianist playing the keys of a piano that had already cooperated with him thousands of times.

“Ningning, this time will make you very comfortable. Trust me.”

The defense line crumbled completely.

He Ning: “…Stop dawdling. I have something at eight.”

Before his words finished, the trailing sound was cut off by a suddenly intensified force, instantly squeezing the remaining distance between the two of them into nothingness.

Later, He Ning finally personally experienced Wen Junhe’s obsession with and love for this position.

At seven sixteen, He Ning was reclining on the sofa like a cat whose bones had been removed, even his fingertips carrying a lazy weariness.

The scattered documents had been put back in place. The tilted desk lamp had been straightened. The rug had been pulled away. Only after doing all this did Wen Junhe gather the person back into his embrace again, massaging his waist for him: “I didn’t know you resisted this position so much before.”

Wen Junhe’s tone carried a bit of having gotten an advantage and still acting cute. His palm pressed against He Ning’s waist: “I really like it. You should have told me earlier.”

Hearing Wen Junhe emphasize the word “like,” He Ning mentally laughed hollowly twice.

Wen Junhe was now a considerate good lover. Every time the meeting location was decided according to He Ning’s preferences. Most of the time it was executive suites at five star hotels. Later it gradually became the master bedroom at his home. Other things aside, at least in this matter, they were shockingly compatible.

He Ning didn’t have the habit of staying overnight. No matter how late it was, he insisted on leaving. Actually there was no real need to return to the Zhou family. Most of the time he lived alone in an outside apartment. But He Ning absolutely would not give Wen Junhe even a sliver of hope.

At Wen Junhe’s home, he wouldn’t let He Ning smoke, and he would cook for He Ning.

He Ning watched Wen Junhe standing under the warm yellow light of the dining room, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his well defined forearms as he cooked. This scene was too domestic. So domestic that it made his heart feel blocked up.

Wen Junhe would talk to him about his time studying in England, about the apartment he rented.

“The curtains are the beige color you like.”

The arrangement, the habits, were all preferences He Ning had back when they were together. Now the roles were reversed. It was Wen Junhe’s turn to remember every little detail, while He Ning had become the cold and distant one.

He Ning occasionally wondered what would have happened if he had really gone with Wen Junhe back then. There were too many things between them that couldn’t be clearly explained. Those misunderstandings and suspicions accumulated day by day. Even the deepest feelings would be worn down to nothing but a thin layer of skin.

The way things were now was actually just right.

He Ning came and went freely. After finishing, each put on their clothes and left. They were actually at the perfect level for being lovers, like two trains on different tracks, occasionally running parallel for a stretch, but ultimately heading toward different directions.

Being lovers was indeed much simpler than being lovers in the full sense. No need to explain whereabouts. No need to account for the past. Even less need to tear one’s heart and lungs out over those old matters from years ago.

That day Wen Junhe personally came to deliver documents. It was clearly something that could be handled by sending any random assistant. The office door had barely shut when he pressed He Ning against the desk and kissed him.

When Zhou Chong’s voice sounded in the hallway, Wen Junhe only then unhurriedly let him go, conveniently straightening out his wrinkled collar.

He Ning lowered his voice and told him not to come again: “Just send your secretary next time. There’s no need for us to…”

Before he finished speaking, Wen Junhe interrupted him.

Wen Junhe lowered his eyelashes, his tone obedient: “Okay. I won’t make things difficult for you.”

This appearance made He Ning’s chest feel tight. He suddenly blurted out: “Why do you have to hang yourself on me? You could find someone else and get married too.”

Hearing this, Wen Junhe paused. His Adam’s apple moved a few times. After half a moment, he suddenly pressed his forehead against He Ning’s shoulder. His warm breath burned through the shirt fabric onto the skin: “Ningning, don’t say such things to torture me.”

He Ning sometimes stared at Wen Junhe in a daze. This person used to be so proud. Now he was willing to be a lover hidden in the shadows.

At first there was indeed the intention to humiliate him. But Wen Junhe accepted everything, endured everything without complaint, not even frowning.

The more he was like this, the more uneasy He Ning felt in his heart. This revenge had somehow changed flavor at some unknown point.

Wen Junhe said: “Come to my place for dinner tonight. Stay for dinner. I’ll make the dishes you like.”

Hearing this, He Ning’s movements paused. As if possessed by a ghost, he spoke: “No. I have to accompany Zhou Ji to an elder’s birthday banquet later.”

Wen Junhe made a sound of agreement, his eyes full of disappointment.

Seeing this, He Ning inexplicably felt a bit guilty. He irritably scratched his hair, thinking what kind of scumbag was he, unable to even achieve the most basic coldness and heartlessness.

He Ning finally understood. He could never be a qualified bastard in this lifetime. Especially when facing Wen Junhe’s face, compared to how Wen Junhe could cold shoulder him for years, he was still too green.

At the birthday banquet.

Zhou Ji was dressed in a finely tailored black suit. Hair gel fixed the strands in front of his forehead meticulously in place. Gold rimmed glasses sat on his tall nose bridge. The gaze behind the lenses carried just the right amount of distance.

He skillfully guided He Ning through the banquet hall, occasionally stopping to exchange pleasantries with acquaintances, conveniently pressing a glass of amber colored cocktail into He Ning’s hand.

A middle aged man in a suit was talking incessantly about analyzing global economic trends, occasionally mixing in a few French wine terms.

He Ning sipped his drink, the corners of his eyes drooping slightly, putting on an appearance of focused listening,适时 revealing an expression of sudden realization. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Zhou Ji holding a smile at the corner of his mouth.

At this moment a man with a wide and flat face enthusiastically came forward, both hands grasping Zhou Ji’s right hand: “President Zhou’s honored presence. This must be Mr. He?”

He Ning maintained a standard social smile and briefly shook hands with him.

After that person walked away, Zhou Ji leaned close to He Ning’s ear: “The Kang family’s eldest son. The birthday star’s eldest son tonight.”

He Ning calmly took a sip of wine, just one mouthful but not enough to trigger an allergy. He nodded.

“Has Zhou Chong been bothering you lately?”

Hearing this, He Ning tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealing an expression somewhere between irritation and helplessness: “He’s now concentrating all his firepower on me.”

Zhou Ji sighed: “He’s been like this since he was little. I’ve tried many methods, but I’m afraid he won’t change in this lifetime. I can only hope he’ll figure it out himself.”

He Ning thought, wait for Zhou Chong to figure it out himself? He was afraid not even the next lifetime would be enough.

He Ning patted Zhou Ji on the shoulder: “We’re in the same boat now. Helping you deal with trouble is part of my job. Besides, Zhou Chong is just a bit troublesome. He’s not being as serious as before.”

Zhou Ji: “But the price you paid is too great. Sometimes I wonder whether it was right to pull you into this back then.”

He Ning suddenly smiled: “A Ji, I’ve also gained a lot. This kind of life now is what I should have.”

Those days of self punishment in the past were like an absurd nightmare. He was clearly the most innocent one.

This kind of relationship between them was the most unbreakable. Zhou Ji relied on him to cut off that twisted incestuous relationship. He borrowed the Zhou family’s power to be reborn. Mutual benefit, each taking what they needed. More solid than any emotional relationship.

Zhou Ji asked again about the progress of his lawsuit with Han Qing. He Ning shook his head, his fingertip tracing half a circle along the rim of the glass: “The lawyer says the situation doesn’t look good. The Han family is hard to deal with.”

Before his words finished, he suddenly caught sight of Wen Junhe’s figure not far away out of the corner of his eye. That person was in a crisp suit. Just a few hours ago he had said he wanted to cook for He Ning. Now his arm was linked with a young lady in a champagne colored evening gown, chatting and laughing with several business figures.

That girl was the one He Ning had seen at the hospital back then.

Zhou Ji敏锐地 noticed something was off and followed his gaze: “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He Ning withdrew his gaze. He suddenly realized that standing by Zhou Ji’s side always gave him an inexplicable sense of security. Perhaps Zhou Ji himself didn’t even know how much courage he had given He Ning to face the past.

Wen Junhe had mocked He Ning’s “two person theory.” Back then his father had told He Ning that relationships between people were always either this or that. Either extremely close or extremely distant, either you die or I live.

Across the banquet hall filled with clinking glasses, Wen Junhe’s gaze briefly connected with He Ning’s through the crowd.

He Ning was following Zhou Ji in socializing. Fragments of information floated to his ears: That girl holding Wen Junhe’s arm was called Kang Yimei. The most doted upon youngest daughter of Kang Encheng. Rumor had it she and Wen Junhe were classmates when studying abroad.

The Kang family’s shipping business was booming, but at this moment many people’s gazes were unanimously focusing on Wen Junhe. The way he stood by Kang Yimei’s side looked too well matched with her. The black suit set off his shoulder line straight and tall. The profile of his face revealed when he lowered his head to listen to someone speak could be called perfect.

The whispers of surrounding guests spread like a tide, all guessing whether Wen Junhe was about to become the Kang family’s son in law.

He Ning was momentarily distracted. The wine glass in his hand was suddenly bumped and tilted. The wine splashed onto the front of his snow white shirt, instantly blooming into a glaring stain.

The young waitress hurriedly pulled out tissues, her fingers trembling as she wiped for him, her mouth continuously apologizing.

He Ning had originally only moistened his lips because of his allergy. Now it was great. Most of the glass had been contributed to his clothes.

“It’s fine.” He said briefly to the waitress who was scared pale, then turned to greet Zhou Ji and headed toward the restroom.

Cold water rushed over his fingertips. He Ning roughly rubbed at the wine stain on his shirt, but the more he rubbed the worse it got.

He stared at his sorry figure in the mirror, suddenly losing patience. He shook the water droplets off his hands and prepared to give up.

Just at this moment, an extra figure appeared in the mirror.

Wen Junhe had somehow ended up standing behind him. He reached out and pressed on He Ning’s shoulder, his voice low: “Let me help you.”

Before He Ning could react, he had already pulled out a tissue, wet it, and was skillfully starting to help him deal with that wine stain.

He Ning’s tone was stiff: “No trouble for you.”

He turned to leave but was grabbed by the wrist by Wen Junhe.

“Ningning, what’s wrong? In a bad mood?”

“What business is it of yours?” He Ning shook off his hand. He wanted to say if you have this free time why don’t you go accompany your Kang family young lady, but ultimately he only coldly turned his face away.

Wen Junhe pressed up against him relentlessly: “Why are you suddenly throwing a tantrum, Ningning?”

This “Ningning” was called too intimately. He Ning suddenly felt a wave of irritation.

“I said I don’t need you to care!” He suddenly shoved Wen Junhe. The other person stumbled and bumped into the sink. “Wen Junhe, can you not be so annoying?”

He Ning turned to leave, but Wen Junhe’s arm suddenly stretched across to block him, pulling him back with one tug. That force was completely opposite to the gentle voice, carrying an irresistible dominance, forcibly circling him into his embrace: “He Ningning, can we talk properly?”

He Ning struggled once but couldn’t break free. Wen Junhe suddenly pulled him into a stall. The restroom lock clicked shut at this moment. He shrank back like a cat with its fur standing on end, his back pressing against the cold tiles: “What kind of crazy are you throwing?”

Wen Junhe trapped him between his arms: “Tell me what’s wrong?”

He Ning laughed coldly: “Like hell! Go talk to your Miss Kang.”

“Ningning,” Wen Junhe’s lips were almost pressed against his earlobe, “are you jealous?”

“Wen Junhe, I said if you find someone else our relationship automatically ends…”

It really is unequal.

But who asked Wen Junhe to insist on continuing this relationship.

Before He Ning could finish, he was forced to tilt his head back. Wen Junhe’s face was right in front of him, nose tips touching, breaths intertwining. In the cramped stall, even the air became thin.

“Kang Yimei is just an ordinary friend from when I studied abroad.” Wen Junhe’s expression was serious. “We just have a classmate friendship. At that time there were several other friends eating together. I politely saw her back, and then I saw you enter the hospital. This time I agreed to come because I wanted to see you.”

“I clearly knew seeing it would hurt, but I just couldn’t control myself…”

Wen Junhe was very jealous.

Wen Junhe longed to receive even a word or two of comfort from He Ning. As long as He Ning said one sentence that he wasn’t sincere about Zhou Ji, he could continue deceiving himself in this relationship.

He had abandoned all his pride. Even when pushed away by He Ning with the most biting words, he stubbornly guarded this relationship hidden in the shadows.

He knew he had no right to resent, because all of this was self inflicted.

Wen Junhe also knew that every word he spoke now reeked of undignified begging. He was finally tasting the flavor of being cold shouldered that He Ning had experienced back then, like needles piercing into flesh, hurting in a long and dense way.

Every time after their intimacy, watching He Ning drowsily falling asleep in his embrace, he would again generate laughable delusions, as if in this moment He Ning completely belonged to him.

He really wanted to keep He Ning. Even if it was just accompanying him for a meal, not doing anything. But in that empty apartment, sometimes he would sit alone facing the cold food until late at night. He had thought he had long gotten used to loneliness during those years abroad. But now, as long as he saw the image of He Ning and Zhou Ji standing shoulder to shoulder, that bone eating loneliness would come surging back.

He was like an addict greedily craving He Ning’s warmth, even if he could only get close through the most primitive way.

But when they truly met, every word from He Ning was like a knife, stabbing him until there was no intact skin left. Wen Junhe used every trick in the book to please him, only to receive even sharper mockery in return.

The only thing worth being grateful for was that at least in bed, He Ning hadn’t pushed him away yet. But this remaining bit of warmth precisely proved that He Ning had already withdrawn all the special favor he once gave him.