Chapter 17
10:30 PM.
A single, dim glass lamp illuminated the spacious living room, stretching the man's silhouette long across the floor and casting an air of isolation and desolation.
Wen Chen was sunk deep into the sofa, twirling a black USB drive between his fingers. The rhythmic click-clack sound struck against his heart, making him increasingly irritable and restless.
It was past curfew, and Jiajia still wasn't home. He was still at the hospital keeping his "good Gege" company.
The thought that Jiajia was neglecting his own well-being for another man, losing his temper at him for another man, hanging up on him for another man... it made Wen Chen feel as if a piece of his heart had been brutally carved out.
He downed a glass of red wine, trying to numb the agonizing pain. Unfortunately, the alcohol content was too low to dull his nerves.
If it couldn't numb him, so be it. He wouldn't switch to hard liquor. Jiajia didn't like it, Jiajia only liked red wine.
He set down the glass and picked up his phone again. His fingers swiped rapidly, he watched the screen light up, then quickly dim.
After repeating this cycle who knows how many times, he finally sighed in resignation. He opened his only pinned WeChat chat, masochistically rereading the three messages the other had sent him.
The first was sent at noon:
[Thank you for the breakfast and lunch you had sent over, Uncle. It was delicious, and I ate it all by myself! Also, I'm sorry about this morning; it was my misunderstanding. You threw away the crab roe wontons so my brother couldn't eat them because he's allergic. It was my fault for getting mad at you without understanding the situation. I'll apologize properly when I get home tonight. You can punish me however you want then, Uncle~ [FingerHeart.jpg]]
The second was sent at 8:30 PM, right after hanging up his call:
[Uncle, it's not convenient for me to take calls right now. Ah! I just saw your WeChat message saying you were coming to pick me up. Are you already here? You don't need to pick me up, I still can't get away right now. Don't worry, I'll be home before the 10 PM curfew. I'm really craving red bean sago soup. If you have time, could you head home first and make some for me, Uncle?]
The third was sent at 10 PM, replying only after Wen Chen had sent his seventeenth message:
[I'm sorry, Uncle, I probably won't be home until around 10:30. My brother had a little emergency just now, and I was busy helping him so I didn't see my phone. I broke the house rules by missing curfew, so I accept my punishment. As long as it quells your anger, Uncle, you can punish me however you want.]
The more Wen Chen read those unusually distant and polite words, the colder his heart grew. The words "my brother" stabbed at his chest like a knife.
Could a decade of living together day and night as his uncle really not compare to a "brother" he had only spent a few days with? Aside from being younger, sweeter with his words, and more manipulative, how exactly was Wen Qingheng better than him?
If Jiajia knew that bastard's true colors, would he still be calling him "Gege" so affectionately?
But... if Jiajia found out the truth, wouldn't he be heartbroken?
Wen Chen stared at the black USB drive in his hand, complex emotions flashing through his eyes.
"Welcome home, Little Master," the robot 003 suddenly announced from the entryway.
Wen Chen stiffened, almost reflexively shoving the black USB drive into his pants pocket. The drive contained evidence of every scheme Wen Qingheng had plotted against Jiajia.
He couldn't let Jiajia know that the brother he thought was wholeheartedly good to him was actually just putting on a fake act laced with only a sliver of sincerity. Jiajia cared about very few people, yet Wen Qingheng was one of them.
He couldn't be so selfish. He couldn't force Jiajia to face such a cruel reality just to eliminate a romantic rival.
To deal with an underhanded person like Wen Qingheng, there were plenty of underhanded methods. As long as he tossed that bastard far away, Jiajia would eventually forget him.
Of course, he also needed to put in some effort to show off his own advantages, keeping Jiajia's eyes so occupied that they couldn't possibly wander to anyone else.
His mind made up, Wen Chen unfastened the top three buttons of his black dress shirt. He picked up his wine glass, took a small sip, and then—with absolute, calculated "carelessness"—spilled the rest directly onto his exposed chest.
"Uncle, why did you drink so much?!" The moment Luo Qingjia walked in and caught sight of Wen Chen drinking his sorrows away, his guilt intensified.
He patted the head of the robot 003, which was crouching to help him change his shoes, terminating its service, and sprinted barefoot toward Wen Chen.
Unfortunately, he ran a bit too fast. He tripped over the small rug in the entryway, about to become intimately acquainted with the floor.
The next second, he fell into a familiar embrace reeking of red wine.
The man was likely drunk, his footing was unsteady as he stumbled forward, catching him. He backed Luo Qingjia all the way into a corner, leaving him nowhere to retreat.
The scalding, hormone-drenched body of a mature man pressed against him, leaving absolutely no gap between them. A sexy jawline nudged into the crook of his neck, rubbing against him, while coarse hair brushed against the skin of his neck, raising a trail of goosebumps.
It was as if the man's OCD had flared up, exacerbated by the alcohol numbing his senses. He completely discarded his usual strict boundaries. Instead, he raised a hand to caress Luo Qingjia's neck, repeatedly stroking the skin as if determined to smooth out the goosebumps before he would stop.
As if he could smooth them out.
The man's large hand entirely engulfed his neck. Though the pressure was light, the posture mimicked a chokehold. Coupled with the scorching breaths fanning against the side of his neck and a gaze that looked ready to devour him whole... it truly gave the illusion of some illicit kink.
Luo Qingjia shivered with arousal. Goosebumps rose in waves, no sooner were they smoothed down than they erupted again. His mind was utterly consumed by filthy thoughts, making it impossible for him to even register what Wen Chen was whispering in his ear.
"Hiss!" A sudden, sharp pain bit into his earlobe, followed instantly by a dense, tingling itch that seeped straight into his core.
The man bit his earlobe, seemingly punishing his distraction. "Baby, answer my question." As he spoke, he tightened his arm around Luo Qingjia's waist. so tight that Luo Qingjia could distinctly feel the outline of that.
"What?"
Luo Qingjia's attention was entirely focused on his lower abdomen. Paired with the itch spreading continuously from his earlobe—like an invisible feather lightly scratching at all his sensitive nerves—he truly had no idea what Wen Chen was saying.
His limbs were no longer under his control, acting solely on primal desire.
He raised his arms and hugged Wen Chen back fiercely. Through the thin fabric of the shirt, his fingertips could clearly trace the lines of the man's back muscles and feel a body heat so intense it made him blush.
Moreover, the scent of red wine mixed with the man's natural musk was so intoxicatingly good it went straight to his head. Losing all reason, he buried his face into the man's firm, bulging chest. The aroma of the wine grew thicker, leaving him drunk on the scent.
Possessed by some unseen force, he poked the tip of his tongue out and gave it a lick. The more he licked, the hungrier he felt, it was as if the red wine had seeped right into the flesh. Thus, he opened his mouth and sank his teeth in.
"Hiss..."
The man let out a muffled groan, the deep vibration resonating from his chest sounding exceptionally sexy.
"Baby, you still haven't answered me. Who is more important, Wen Qingheng or me?"
As if trying to jolt Luo Qingjia awake, Wen Chen asked this question while firmly gripping his buttocks. The force was heavy.
That certainly snapped Luo Qingjia to attention. He tilted his head back, looking straight into Wen Chen's crimson phoenix eyes. "Of course you're more important, Daddy~"
"Then since you broke Daddy's heart today, how do you plan to compensate me?" Wen Chen left one hand resting on those peach-like buttocks while his other hand slowly trailed upward.
Luo Qingjia squirmed his waist in feigned discomfort. His soft fingertips traced circles over the bite mark on the man's chest before slowly creeping up to rest directly over his wildly beating heart. His liquid, autumn-water eyes overflowed with guilt and heartache:
"As long as Daddy isn't angry anymore, any kind of compensation is fine."
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