The Disliked Shou and the Charming Gong : Chapter 25: Wen Junhe, Have I… Already Stopped Loving You?

He Ning’s whole body went rigid on the spot. His hands and feet suddenly went weak, and a wave of heat surged up his spine.

“Zhou Ji?”

His mind was full of question marks, and the panic on his face was impossible to hide, all of it caught by Jin Mi.

Jin Mi had a smile at the corner of his mouth, deliberately pulling his shirt collar open wider to reveal half a shoulder. He leaned close to He Ning’s ear, his breath hitting the other person’s flushed skin: “I already had my eye on you.”

As he spoke, his finger lightly traced across He Ning’s burning hand: “But you rich people really know how to play. Playing around on the side is one thing, but you even find entertainment for each other.”

“Back then your father told me to stay away from you. He probably thought our circles were dirty, but I’m clean.”

He Ning instinctively shrank back, his back pressing against the sofa.

The faint scent of perfume on Jin Mi mixed with the smell of alcohol, making He Ning’s temples throb.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Jin Mi pressed a finger against his lips, so cold it made He Ning shiver.

“Are you the top or the bottom now?”

Jin Mi’s voice stuck to his ear, sticky and clinging: “When you were with that boyfriend before, you were definitely the bottom. But someone like you, any way is exciting.”

He Ning wanted to argue back, but the drug was hitting hard. Black spots danced before his eyes, his temples throbbing.

Jin Mi pushed him heavily into the sofa.

He Ning’s whole body was burning hot, the back of his waist pressing against the sofa arm so hard it hurt: “You… you calm down.”

The person who couldn’t calm down was actually He Ning.

Jin Mi’s breath hit the side of his neck, hot and carrying the smell of alcohol. The scariest thing was that his body was actually reacting under the drug’s effect. Shame and physical desire tore at what little reason He Ning had left.

Jin Mi’s words “your husband sent me” made He Ning’s mind a complete mess.

What exactly did Zhou Ji mean? Finding someone specifically to cheat on him? He found this scene almost impossible to understand right now.

Jin Mi’s hand had already slipped under his shirt, his palm burning like a hot iron.

He Ning suddenly arched his back, his nails digging into the leather of the sofa. Reason retreated step by step before the drug’s effect, leaving only the most primal urges crashing through his veins.

He Ning’s hand fumbled around on the sofa: “No… no, where’s my phone?”

“Young Master He, what’s wrong with you? You can’t still be keeping yourself pure for someone, can you? You wouldn’t sleep with me back then because your ex boyfriend was around. Don’t tell me it’s still because of someone now. Your husband already gave the word. We won’t hurt anyone.”

Things gradually started spinning out of control. Jin Mi poured another bucket of oil on the fire. He gripped He Ning’s waist and felt him up, the sensation making him savor it. He Ning jolted, and at first he was still pushing the person away.

But hearing Jin Mi’s words made a flicker of hesitation suddenly appear in his heart.

Jin Mi’s tongue licked his dry lips. The desire for He Ning in his eyes carried a bit of the hazy, ambiguous flutter from their younger days, not completely driven by instinct. It was a look that He Ning didn’t dare to face directly.

Jin Mi’s voice stuck to his ear, sticky and clinging: “Young Master He, I haven’t let anyone top me. You don’t need to feel guilty or resistant. I’m the one your husband hired. Today I’m here to make you happy. You don’t need to take any responsibility.”

Jin Mi suddenly stopped his movements: “Back then when I first debuted, there weren’t many real fans in the audience. You came to every show, sitting in the front row.”

He tugged at the corner of his mouth, showing something that couldn’t quite be called a smile: “The way you looked at me when I sang, your eyes were so bright they gave me the courage to keep singing.”

“He Ning, you don’t know. Sometimes when you look at people, you give them this feeling of wanting to bully you. But the person behind you back then made people back off. You’re very charming. Don’t you know?”

He Ning’s breath caught.

He remembered Jin Mi on stage, shaking his pink hair and roaring, sweat rolling from his jawline to his collarbones, completely absorbed in his performance.

Back then he had genuinely liked this prickly singer, liked him to the point that even Wen Junhe had complaints about it. Now this person was pressing down on him, saying ambiguous things, yet seemed more unfamiliar than ever.

Jin Mi’s fingers brushed over He Ning’s burning eyelids: “Just for how much you supported me back then, I have to serve you well tonight.”

He Ning thought somewhat mockingly that the person in his mind right now was actually Wen Junhe.

He actually rarely tried to guess Wen Junhe’s thoughts anymore. Before, he had always survived on Wen Junhe’s emotions, happy or sad because of his moods. Now he had defined their relationship as between lovers, so free to come and go. He thought he should have moved on long ago.

What was laughable was that just now when Jin Mi asked him what he was worried about, He Ning realized that in his heart he was still guarding a piece of “chastity” for him.

Before he had followed Wen Junhe’s emotional ups and downs like a puppet on strings. He had finally drawn a clear line, but his body remembered more clearly than his mind.

If he betrayed Wen Junhe with his body too, would he finally be truly free?

Thinking this, He Ning suddenly relaxed his limbs. He was breathing slightly, his body seeming to become lighter.

Jin Mi felt He Ning’s relaxation and leaned in to kiss him. A warm body pressed down on him. He Ning couldn’t describe the feeling, only knowing that at that moment his scalp went numb, floating and unreal.

Jin Mi knelt down before He Ning.

He Ning made a small sound, his body stiffening.

With the drug’s help, He Ning was trembling with excitement all over.

The stimulation Jin Mi brought him was very intense. His forehead was already soaked with sweat. Jin Mi simply pushed his bangs back, completely different from his usual arrogant and untamed look on stage. The pink hair added a special charm to him. His handsome face was flushed with a rosy color.

He knelt before He Ning, carrying a bit of eagerness to please, and an expression of discomfort, a feeling that could stir up He Ning’s desire to dominate.

He Ning almost couldn’t control his hand, placing it on the back of Jin Mi’s head, pressing his head down.

He Ning looked up at the white ceiling, and in a daze it was as if he saw heaven and earth, briefly freed from the constraints of the flesh, his soul drifting in the sky with the wind.

Jin Mi was somewhat uncomfortable, but he didn’t push He Ning away. Instead he worked even harder.

He Ning’s thoughts broke off for a few seconds. Jin Mi’s lips were already pressing down, a wet warmth spreading from the corner of his mouth.

He instinctively gripped the back of Jin Mi’s head, his fingertips sinking into the pink strands.

Jin Mi’s kisses traveled downward, leaving scattered wet marks on He Ning’s heaving chest.

The door opening made a slight creaking sound.

Wen Junhe stood in the doorway, his backlit outline stiff as a statue. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting striped shadows on the floor, cutting right across the space between the three of them. One end was the messy sofa, the other end was frozen silence.

He Ning’s hand was still on the back of Jin Mi’s neck, clearly feeling the other person’s muscles suddenly tense.

When Jin Mi looked up, the corner of his mouth still carried a wet sheen. Wen Junhe’s gaze moved slowly from their overlapping bodies to He Ning’s face, his pupils black and terrifying.

Jin Mi was violently thrown to the ground, his back hitting the coffee table with a dull thud. When he propped himself up his face looked terrible, pink hair sticking messily to his sweat-dampened forehead.

The weight on He Ning suddenly lifted. Squinting his eyes, he saw Wen Junhe’s towering figure, the shadow he cast completely covering him.

“This is what you called work?” Wen Junhe’s voice was cold as ice.

He Ning’s shirt had long been torn to pieces, hanging off his arm about to fall. The drug’s effect had faded somewhat, but his mind was still foggy. He rubbed his head.

When Wen Junhe tried to drag Jin Mi away, He Ning instinctively grabbed his wrist, touching a patch of cold skin. His collar slid down to his elbow, revealing a large expanse of reddened skin: “If you drag him away, who’s going to sleep with me?”

He Ning could feel the artery in his wrist pulsing rapidly.

The room still carried the scent of Jin Mi’s perfume, mixed with the lingering heat of arousal.

When He Ning looked up, he saw Wen Junhe’s jawline pulled into a sharp arc.

Jin Mi staggered to his feet, two buttons on his shirt popped open, his collar hanging crooked on his shoulder. He stuck his neck out and yelled at Wen Junhe: “Who the hell are you? Mr. Zhou hired me!”

Wen Junhe didn’t even give him a proper look, directly grabbing him by the back of his collar and dragging him toward the door.

The moment the door slammed shut, the whole wall shook.

He Ning lay on the sofa, hearing Jin Mi’s knocking on the door outside, then the sound of cursing gradually fading away.

When Wen Junhe turned around, the violence in his eyes hadn’t completely faded. The room suddenly became terrifyingly quiet.

Wen Junhe: “He Ning, were you clearheaded about what you were doing just now?”

He Ning nodded.

He knew.

Of course he knew what he was doing.

Hot water poured down from above, washing over He Ning until he couldn’t open his eyes. The water flow was like a layer of airtight film, wrapping around him until he couldn’t breathe. Wen Junhe’s palm pressed against him, the force so strong it seemed like it wanted to scrub off a layer of skin. He Ning choked on water, his nasal passage burning, his fingers scratching several white marks on the tiles.

“What are you going crazy for?!” He Ning wiped his face and kicked out with his foot.

But Wen Junhe pinched his chin, his thumb roughly forcing open his teeth, the pad of his finger rubbing against his tongue, as if trying to scrape away something unclean.

A muffled whimper came from He Ning’s throat, his nails digging into Wen Junhe’s forearm, leaving several scratches that oozed blood.

The shower was still running, steam fogging up the entire mirror.

Wen Junhe’s hand traveled down He Ning’s spine, every place it passed turning an abnormal red.

He Ning bent over coughing, water droplets flying from his hair onto Wen Junhe’s face, impossible to tell if it was hot water or something else.

But he didn’t have Wen Junhe’s strength, couldn’t fight force with force. Wen Junhe cupped He Ning’s face and said to him: “You weren’t clearheaded. He drugged you.”

He Ning was picked up and placed on the counter, completely naked and dripping wet.

Wen Junhe was in a rage.

Pain, a pain that tore his heart and lungs, a pain engraved into his bones.

He Ning felt like he was being split in two alive. He cried out, but Wen Junhe didn’t slow down at all, even becoming more frantic.

After the pain came near suffocation.

The drug had left He Ning with no judgment at all.

The scratches on Wen Junhe’s back burned, but this pain was nothing compared to the torment in his heart. Like the torture He Ning brought him, both painful and pleasurable, addicting.

He lowered his head to bite He Ning’s neck, his teeth sinking into the skin at his collarbone, like a bloodthirsty beast. He Ning tilted his head back panting, his Adam’s apple rolling under Wen Junhe’s lips.

When Wen Junhe finally stopped, He Ning’s whole body was covered in a thin flush. His fair skin glowed with a peachy pink, from his chest to his ear tips as if smeared with rouge. Sweat rolled from his chin into the hollow of his collarbone, pooling into a small patch of wet sheen. That face, no longer childish, still carried lingering confusion, his eyes wet, his eyelashes stuck into clumps by sweat.

Wen Junhe braced himself above him, staring at He Ning’s slightly parted lips, where traces of being bitten still remained. The room only held the sound of their intermingled breathing, and the occasional sound of cars from outside.

He Ning’s shirt had long since been thrown who knows where. The red finger marks on his waist and abdomen stood out starkly against his pale skin. Red lips and white teeth, his whole body twitching, tilting his head back and panting.

Wen Junhe’s voice was hoarse beyond recognition: “I’m going crazy because of you.”

His fingers pinched He Ning’s chin, the force enough to leave bruises. Wen Junhe couldn’t understand. How could someone who was cold and indifferent to him react to someone else?

This thought was like a knife, stabbing away all of Wen Junhe’s reason.

He lowered his head to bite He Ning’s lip, the taste of blood immediately spreading in his mouth. He Ning frowned in pain but didn’t dodge, instead tilting his head up to meet him.

He went in fiercely, hearing the whimper squeezed from He Ning’s throat, sounding like crying yet like laughing.

Wen Junhe carried unwillingness. He Ning could no longer speak, letting Wen Junhe do as he pleased.

When He Ning opened his eyes, his bones felt like they had been taken apart and reassembled. Wen Junhe was sleeping beside him, the two of them squeezed together on wrinkled sheets. The blanket had long been kicked to the floor, and only one pillow remained. The other had somehow flown to the window.

Wen Junhe woke up almost immediately, coming close with lingering sleepiness. He Ning’s fingers threaded through his hair, rubbing now and then, the pads of his fingers brushing against the stubble on his chin. This movement was too natural.

The next second Wen Junhe pressed down on him, the force so strong the bed frame creaked. He seemed eager to prove something, his movements both fierce and hurried.

In a daze He Ning felt that Wen Junhe wanted to drag him to die together in this bed.

After it ended the two of them lay stacked together, chest against chest, clearly feeling each other’s racing heartbeat.

Wen Junhe got out of bed and lit a cigarette, the ember flickering on and off in the darkness.

He Ning lazily beckoned him with a hooked finger.

Wen Junhe lit a cigarette for He Ning, then took that hand of his, slowly sliding it from his own brow bone down to his collarbone, finally pressing it against his left chest, where it was beating heavily and rapidly.

He Ning took a drag, white smoke blurring his expression.

He stared at Wen Junhe and suddenly spoke: “Doing it with someone else seems about the same too. Wen Junhe, have I… already stopped loving you?”

For the first time Wen Junhe showed an expression of despair and terror, tears instantly pouring from his eyes.

They fell onto the back of their overlapping hands.

Wen Junhe blamed all of He Ning’s loss of control on that glass of spiked wine.

It turned out that wasn’t it.