Chapter 8: Punishment (II)
Jiang Zhaosheng unexpectedly had a dream and returned to the past.
It was several years ago. He had made a mistake and was kneeling on the mahogany floor of Shen Qimingâs study. He wore a pair of silver handcuffs, but only one hand was cuffedâthe other was cuffed to the armchair.
“Do you know why I called you here?” Shen Qimingâs voice came from above.
The man wore a dark gray silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The blue veins on his forearms were knotted, showing clear muscle texture and a sense of power.
Jiang Zhaosheng had complained more than once in his head that such a muscular frame in such loose fabric was a disasterâit looked sickeningly greasy.
But currently, knowing he was in the wrong, he swallowed his sharp remarks about Shen Qimingâs fashion sense. Staring at the patterns on the floor, he mumbled:
“…I took a private job.”
Shen Qiming paced behind him. The tip of his polished leather shoe pressed against Jiang Zhaoshengâs knee. Thinking it was unintentional, Jiang Zhaosheng moved to the side, but the shoe followed. This frivolous posture was one he had only seen Shen Qiming use when playing with his cat.
Being treated like a pet cat… Fire rose in his heart, but being in shackles, he had no way to retreat and could only glare at the man.
Jiang Zhaosheng was extremely frustrated and, throwing caution to the wind, urged the other to act:
“I was wrong. Just punish me.”
“Heh, that mouth of yours really is…”
Shen Qiming smiled and looked down at him. The man had deep features and a naturally imposing look, but shrouded in an indescribable “appreciation,” he appeared somewhat dangerous.
At that time, Jiang Zhaosheng was still a naive straight man. If he looked back with his current perspective, he would understandâShen Qiming had no such virtue as “appreciating subordinates”; that look was clearly a hungry wolf staring at meat on a chopping board.
“Boss, I was just…”
The crisp click of a belt buckle interrupted his defense. Jiang Zhaoshengâs entire body tensed. When the warm leather touched his cheek, his eyelashes trembled uncontrollably.
A chaotic thought filled his head: Just don’t hit my face. If you hit my face, itâs definitely because you’re jealous of it.
Fortunately, the belt only briefly touched him before moving away. Jiang Zhaosheng had just let out half a sigh of relief.
However, the expected whip did not whistle down.
Shen Qiming gripped his lower back while his other arm, like an iron hoop, crossed his lower abdomen.
The handcuff chain clattered. After a dizzying spin, Jiang Zhaoshengâs abdomen hit a hard and elastic surfaceâShen Qimingâs thigh.
His upper body hung helplessly in the air, his cheeks quickly flushing as his hair swept across the floor, dirtying the ends. His cuffed right hand was still attached to the chair, unable to move. This shameful posture, being held across an elderâs knee like a child, made Jiang Zhaosheng instantly explode:
“Get lost! Shen Qiming! Are you crazy?! Let go!”
Jiang Zhaosheng used all his strength to twist and kick in a wild struggle. His cuffed hand pulled desperately, the chain making a piercing “clang clang” sound as it hit the chair. Using only the hand on his lower back, Shen Qiming easily suppressed his struggling frame while simultaneously preventing him from falling.
Smack!
A crisp sound. It wasn’t loud, but it was like a magic spell, interrupting all of Jiang Zhaoshengâs insults. His bodyâs reaction was faster than his emotions; his hanging legs twitched in a spasm before snapping straight.
Smack! A second strike followed immediately, landing precisely in the corresponding position without a millimeter of error.
The same crisp sound. It wasn’t intense pain, yet it felt like a red-hot iron had been imprinted. Jiang Zhaosheng jerked his head back, the lines of his neck pulling tight. He forced back the cry of pain that rushed to his throat, leaving only a muffled groan in his chest.
Why? Why not use a whip? Why use this… nearly humiliating posture?
It felt as if a soul-chilling answer was about to emerge.
“Rules are rules, Azhao.” Shen Qimingâs voice fell from above. No emotion could be heard; it was as dignified as usual.
Bullshit rules… do your rules involve putting a subordinate over your knee to grope them?
Jiang Zhaosheng sneered in his heart, yet he had to endure the burning pain on his buttocks, covering his mouth as he sucked in air.
Shen Qimingâs chest vibrated as if he were laughing very softly. The hand on his waist finally moved away. After a faint click, the cold steel ring around his right wrist loosened.
His wrist suddenly felt light as the pulling force vanished. But where he had been cuffed, a clear ring of red marks was left, the skin rubbed raw and stinging.
Shen Qiming gently lifted the reddened wrist, his thumb slowly and carefully rubbing the startling marks.
“…Does it hurt?”
“……”
He was turned over like an object. Jiang Zhaosheng was nearly numb. The hand with callouses from guns smoothed back his hair, which was soaked in cold sweat, over and over again, as if peeling a mangosteen, occasionally rubbing his cheek.
“Guess why Iâm punishing you like this?”
His blood-stained lower lip was gently rubbed by a thumb. Shen Qiming looked at the faint red on his fingertip and, as if tasting a delicacy, licked it away.
“Because I like it when you hurt, but I can’t bear to see you injured.”
Jiang Zhaosheng snapped his eyes open.
Damn it… Perhaps it was due to the frustration in reality, but the humiliation and anger in the dream were still clearly felt. Shen Qiming had been dead for three years; why was he still dreaming about this?
The area around the bed was empty. Jiang Zhaosheng felt clean all over, yet he shuddered in disgust at the contents of the dream. Just as he was about to get out of bed to find clothesâ
The ceiling, lamps, and table spun wildly. He helplessly used his hands to prop himself up on the carpet. It wasn’t until his forehead was rubbed raw by the coarse fibers that he realized he seemed to have fallen off the bed?
To be precise, he had tumbled.
The moment Wen Zheng entered, he saw Jiang Zhaosheng lying face-down on the carpet. His thin bathrobe was open, revealing a fragile neck and pale shoulders.
In that instant, his heart seemed to stop, and his blood went cold. He strode over and half-knelt, sliding his arms under Jiang Zhaoshengâs armpits and knees, carefully lifting him and placing him back on the large bed.
“Where does it feel uncomfortable?” Wen Zheng asked nervously, reaching out to check Jiang Zhaoshengâs forehead, only to have the man turn his head away to avoid him.
The morning sun slanted through the window, shining on Jiang Zhaoshengâs bloodless face. At this moment, Wen Zheng truly understood what it meant for someone to be “so pale they were nearly transparent.” The person in his arms was as fragile as a ghost formed from morning mist that could dissipate at any moment. The realization that he could slip through his fingers at any second caused a sharp pain in Wen Zhengâs chest.
Those azure eyes took a moment before slowly focusing. His long, gold-lined eyelashes trembled. Jiang Zhaosheng shook his head slightly, his refusal unmistakable.
Just as Wen Zheng was about to get up to find a doctor, an unexpected forceâcarrying a desperate decisivenessâsuddenly gripped his collar!
Jiang Zhaosheng gripped so tightly that his knuckles turned white from the effort, nearly tearing the expensive fabric on his chest.
This sudden explosion, carrying a ruthless, all-or-nothing intensity, made Wen Zhengâs breath hitch. He was forced to lower his head, crashing into those eyes burning with complex flames.
Wen Zheng didn’t move. With his hands propped beside Jiang Zhaoshengâs shoulders, he allowed the man to grip his collar, his Adamâs apple bobbing.
The sunlight through the curtains shone on Jiang Zhaoshengâs face. Wen Zhengâs gaze moved from the man’s sweat-dampened hair to his taut jaw, then back to his face. Setting aside those jewel-like eyes, his other features were nearly perfectâthe tips of his eyebrows were sharp like brush strokes, and his straight nose had the texture of jade. Yet his lips were full, soft, and sensual, and when kissed…
Wen Zheng firmly supported Jiang Zhaoshengâs back with one hand while slowly covering the hand gripping his collar with the other.
He didn’t pull it away. Instead, he wrapped that cold, trembling handâalong with the fabricâinto his own warm palm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Don’t move around, Zhaozhao.” Wen Zhengâs voice sounded a bit strange. “You had a bad fall. Let me see, okay?”
He used the pad of his finger to extremely carefully touch the red mark on Jiang Zhaoshengâs forehead from the carpet. The startling red made his face look even paler.
“…Forget it.”
As if the last bit of strength had been drained from him, Jiang Zhaoshengâs tense body suddenly went limp. He raised an arm, helplessly blocking his eyes, covering those azure eyes and all the surging emotions, leaving only a soft murmur like a sigh escaping his lips.
“âHeâs having a bit of hypoglycemia.”
The door was pushed open rudely, and Shang Yan walked in carrying an exquisite tray. The aroma of food instantly filled the room.
His gaze quickly swept over the bedâat the person lying there weakly with an arm over his face, and at Wen Zheng, who nearly loomed over him in an intimate and possessive posture.
Shang Yan approached with the tray, looking down at Jiang Zhaosheng with malice and a sense of superiority:
“What, the two of us can’t even feed you enough? Or…” He paused deliberately. “Did you not get enough yesterday, and now you’re acting up because you want a different ‘snack’?”
Jiang Zhaosheng lay there, his brow furrowed under his arm. Shang Yanâs face… touching my hair… so that sceneâeither it was a dream, or Shang Yan was insulting me while he touched me.
He turned a deaf ear to Shang Yanâs malicious joke. The reason was simple: Shen Qiming had long since made him immune to all kinds of foul, hooligan-like talkâone good thing that came from it.
His body was extremely exhausted. Jiang Zhaosheng knew any reaction now would play right into Shang Yanâs hands. He needed to recover his strength; he needed to be calm.
He lowered his arm, his gaze calm. Passing over Shang Yanâs probing face, it landed on the tray of food.
“Put it down.”
The man’s voice was a bit raspy, making one’s heart itch.
Without giving Shang Yan another look, Jiang Zhaosheng tilted his head slightly toward Wen Zheng and said, “…Help me up.”
Wen Zhengâs gaze shifted between Shang Yan and Jiang Zhaosheng. He followed the request, carefully supporting Jiang Zhaoshengâs back to help him sit up, then tucking a pillow behind him.
Unexpectedly, as the seemingly ordinary bowl of rice porridge entered his mouth, it instantly woke Jiang Zhaoshengâs numb taste buds.
The mild aroma of rice and the perfect softness, carrying a faint, comfortable sweetness, layer by layer soothed his empty stomach and exhausted nerves.
He wasn’t considered a picky eater, but never had food struck the deepest cravings of his body so accurately. Almost instinctively, Jiang Zhaosheng wanted to swallow faster, but he forced himself to restrain it as the spoon reached his lipsâhe absolutely could not show a pathetic eating manner in front of these two ill-intentioned guys.
However, the frequency of the spoon moving between the bowl and his lips was still a bit faster than usual.
Wen Zheng remained quiet by his side, occasionally brushing away a stray strand of hair from his temple to prevent it from falling into the bowl.
Shang Yan stood leaning to the side with his arms crossed, the usual mocking curve of his lips deepening. Jiang Zhaoshengâs nerves instantly tightened, thinking he was about to mock himâ
But Shang Yan said nothing.
Wearing his red uniform, he maintained a… focused posture. His heavy gaze landed on Jiang Zhaoshengâs hand holding the spoon, on the small movements of his Adamâs apple, and on the long lashes that were lowered as he focused on eating.
There was an unprecedented silence, with only the sound of soft swallowing echoing in the room until the last spoonful of porridge was consumed.
Warmth filled his stomach, and some strength returned to his body. Jiang Zhaosheng set down the empty bowl. After a moment of hesitation, out of basic manners, he evaluated softly:
“This meal… was well made.”
“Hmm.”
Shang Yanâs reaction was unexpectedly flat. He didn’t even throw out any more pointed words, instead walking forward and cleanly taking away the empty bowl and tray. If the Shang Yan who entered had been like a spiteful waiter, the back of him leaving with the empty tray was like a model student working part-timeâquiet, orderly, and even submissive.
Jiang Zhaosheng stared at his back, feeling… something was wrong.
âToo quiet.
Quiet… like the satiety after a certain satisfaction.
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