Lu Qin kissed the stunning beauty until his face was flushed red, then slightly pulled back, his hands braced on the table on either side, his gaze deep and predatory like a wolf.
He reached out, heavily rubbing Pei Rong’s cheek with his finger, and said in a hoarse voice, “Be good, eat first.”
Pei Rong, sitting on the dining table, was a head shorter than Lu Qin. Hearing this, he looked up at the man who already seemed a bit wild, feeling somewhat surprised.
The honeycomb was already broken open, dripping with honey, and he wasn’t going to eat?
Lu Qin gritted his teeth, growling fiercely, “Eat. I’m afraid you won’t have the strength to handle my anger.”
If he got thirsty or hungry later, he wouldn’t care.
Lu Qin brought over a bowl, picked up some big plate chicken and cold noodles with chopsticks, and coaxed him almost like feeding a child, “Open your mouth.”
Pei Rong looked at him with a subtle gaze while opening his mouth.
Lu Qin was about to explode. Pei Rong’s eyes, clothes, posture… every inch of him was tempting him.
He was doing it on purpose!
Was it because he shed a couple of tears? If he’d known tears were this effective, he should’ve staged a tearful father-son reunion the moment he saw him.
Worried that the beauty might eat too quickly and upset his stomach, Lu Qin’s self-control reached its peak.
Finally, after he was fed, he scooped him up in his arms like a bandit carrying off a bride and headed upstairs.
Just one step up the stairs, he abruptly turned back to grab the opened bottle of red wine.
There were only two bottles in total; not a single drop could be wasted, and they had to drink it in creative ways.
“Don’t move. You just ate, so sit still for half an hour.”
Pei Rong sat on the bed, watching Lu Qin actually start warming the wine, and began to feel a bit regretful.
All this flashy nonsense…
As it turned out, “don’t move” gave Lu Qin, the big bear, a massive advantage.
Even after all that, he still told him not to move.
***
The next day, the stunning beauty lay on the bed, thinking, What did I do wrong? I’m just a poor single father who’s been painstakingly raising a cub.
He shouldn’t have said, “Let me know how angry you are.” That was careless—it could easily be interpreted as, “Let me know how perverted you are.”
Three years ago, President Lu was still relatively restrained. After all, to some extent, they weren’t that close back then, hadn’t yet entered each other’s hearts, and their actions naturally came with self-imposed boundaries.
Apart from the chaotic bed-sharing in the rain—which mostly tormented Lu Qin himself—he was relatively polite and gentlemanly toward Pei Rong. When he said he’d do something, he buried himself in the task without hesitation.
Perhaps it had something to do with the imbalance in their relationship back then. Lu Qin was the big boss who controlled all the resources. If he had gone too far, it would’ve been no different from financially exploiting a celebrity, and there would’ve been no chance for a future between them.
Pei Rong sighed, resting his head on his arm. This was the downside of getting too familiar—they were in an equal relationship now, dating openly, but it seemed the damned bear Lu Qin no longer bothered hiding his perverted side.
Just during the quiet after-dinner digestion period, Lu Qin first insisted on his own one-sided method of drinking red wine, then took the chance to play drunk.
Had anyone ever seen someone spread honey on their stomach as "coupling gel," then use their tongue to mimic an ultrasound probe, calling it "making up for lost time"—all while forcing him to recount, word for word, his real prenatal checkup experience?
What was this, playing house?
Pei Rong reluctantly played along, resignedly describing his second prenatal visit back then.
Lu Qin frowned at his overly brief account. "Next time, we’ll do a 4D ultrasound."
There’s gonna be a next time?
Pei Rong’s fists clenched. Just as he was about to call it a night and leave, Lu Qin, sensing the limit, eased off. Rubbing his temples, his gaze clear, he said, "Sorry, I was drunk just now. Talking nonsense."
Pei Rong: "So you’re sober now?"
Lu Qin replied smoothly, "Of course. Honey sobers you up."
The hell it does...
Pei Rong: "..."
He suspected this whole carefully crafted script had been planned by that damned bear for a month.
"Again?" Thinking about last night, Pei Rong decided he couldn’t keep letting himself be manipulated like this. He was a decent person—how could he keep playing along with Lu Qin’s fake prenatal checkups, especially when their child was already born and had even been detained twice?
He had a soft spot for "crocodile tears," and Lu Qin had clearly noticed, exploiting it every time. So he needed to find a way to stop Lu Qin from using "making up for regrets" as an excuse.
If he could force Lu Qin into rehab three years ago, there was no reason he couldn’t do it now.
Lu Qin: "You said yourself you’d bear my anger. I’m still plenty furious."
Pei Rong replied calmly, "If you’ve got rage left, you can always curse at me to vent. Say whatever you want."
He looked ready to listen with perfect patience.
"Why would I scold you…"
Lu Qin could never outmaneuver the salted fish.
That is, unless he knew exactly where he stood in Pei Rong’s heart.
Ever since discovering that Pei Rong used his birthday as the password for his photo album, his ambition and confidence had swelled to unprecedented heights.
Pei Rong had him in his heart—love meant indulgence, and being loved meant audacity.
This rule applied to both of them. Following the "password" clue, Lu Qin could catch glimpses of the great beauty’s little acts of audacity.
Everything about Pei Rong was like honey to him. Whether it was Pei Rong being bold with him or indulging him, he welcomed it all.
And Lu Qin… he only wanted to be audacious in certain matters. Last night, he had been indulged too.
Pei Rong tried to dissuade him, "It’s fine if you didn’t go back last night, but if you stay any longer, Dundun will cry looking for his dad."
His tone was like a poker buddy coaxing a gambling-addicted father away from the mahjong table—persuasive, full of concern.
Lu Qin: "He won’t. I already talked to him."
Pei Dundun had an almost fanatical enthusiasm and determination about earning money on his own to buy his dad a birthday gift. That part, he took after him.
Pei Rong’s mood was complicated: Such a filial son, and yet he’s being taken advantage of!
"What’s he doing to be so well-behaved?"
Lu Qin sealed his lips, cutting off the questioning: "A rather… unique amusement park…"
***
"I’m tired of lying down. I want to get up and walk."
Lu Qin hurriedly draped an autumn robe over Pei Rong, covering the marks all over his body.
The moment Pei Rong’s toes touched the floor, he pulled them back and complained, "My foot’s twisted."
It wasn’t, really. Even if it were, he’d done it days ago hiking down the mountain—but pinning it on Lu Qin worked just fine.
Lu Qin knelt down, lifting his ankle to inspect it. "Where does it hurt?"
Pei Rong: "Figure it out yourself."
So Lu Qin began to reflect—had there been any moment last night where he’d been too impatient, too careless with Pei Rong?
He’d been so careful the whole time; logically, it shouldn’t have happened. But seeing the faint red marks around the ankle, guilt suddenly flooded him: "Sorry, it’s my fault."
Lu Qin examined every part of his ankle as carefully as if defusing a bomb. He had casually thrown on a short-sleeved shirt, and on his well-defined arm, a freshly healed scar stood out starkly.
The wound from the wooden splinter had been uneven, leaving a jagged patch of scar tissue rather than a clean line.
Pei Rong watched him and began to feel that using a sprained ankle as an excuse to hide his shame over being unable to walk was… inappropriate.
"Actually, it might not be a sprain… more like muscle soreness."
Lu Qin: "My fault."
He pulled Pei Rong to lean against him. "Come on, let’s take it slow."
Pei Rong’s expression control had always been impeccable during his time as a celebrity, and today, it served him well.
He walked with perfect composure and sat down without so much as a flicker of discomfort.
"Why are all the curtains closed?"
The living room and kitchen were brightly lit by overhead lights. Pei Rong couldn’t help checking the time to confirm it was 10 AM, not 10 PM.
At least he hadn’t slept an entire day before being rudely awakened by the despicable Lu Qin.
Lu Qin: "There are paparazzi nearby."
Pei Rong froze. He’d been retired for almost three years—there were still gossip reporters? Was the entertainment industry so uneventful lately?
He’d lived in this house since childhood, and the neighbors all knew it was Pei Rong’s family home.
During his time in the industry, he’d never returned here, afraid that paparazzi would disrupt the peace. Over time, his hometown had indeed faded from public attention.
But recently, his renovation work had caused some commotion, so it made sense that someone noticed.
Still… was it really worth sending paparazzi to stake out the place? What news value did he even have now?
What Pei Rong didn’t know was that his "Legendary Beauty" compilation videos on a certain site had seen their view counts multiply tenfold over the past year, all from nostalgic fans and new admirers.
The more cleanly a superstar vanished, the more people wondered about their private life.
What was a great beauty doing after leaving the spotlight? Had he managed to maintain his looks? There were even persistent haters claiming he’d relied on plastic surgery to outshine the industry and finally couldn’t keep up the facade—that’s why he’d disappeared.
The rumors were so convincing that anonymous forums even had "photo evidence."
Lu Qin stirred a pot of pumpkin porridge for him. "You can leave with me, or I’ll stay."
He couldn’t leave Pei Rong alone to deal with the paparazzi—he wouldn’t rest easy.
Pei Rong tapped the table. "Us coming and going together would be the real headline. You should leave first—I’ll stay here and sleep."
If it were just him, what did it matter if the paparazzi got a couple of blurry photos?
Lu Qin set a bowl of congee in front of him. "How can I not worry? Unless I station twenty bodyguards here, sealing the place tight."
Pei Rong: "..."
Twenty bodyguards would be an over-the-top spectacle. The whole world would know he’d returned home—not just the tabloids, but obsessive fans too.
Lu Qin: "We’ll stay here for a week. If the paparazzi can’t catch you leaving, they’ll give up eventually."
"Keeping the curtains drawn all day, never stepping outside—is this your idea of a ‘captive romance’ trope?" Pei Rong couldn’t help retorting. "Did you hire those paparazzi yourself?"
Lu Qin feigned indignation. "Slander. Expect a lawyer’s letter."
Pei Rong: "Then how do we get out?"
Lu Qin suggested, "Walk out with me, openly."
Announce it to the world.
Then everyone would know they’d spent last night behind closed curtains, "reviewing the script."
Pei Rong: "Have some shame."
Zhou Hang sent him a script—a period drama set in a fictional era resembling the Republic of China, centered on entrepreneurship.
Pei Rong thought it over. If he could quietly return to his old profession, it might not be so bad—as long as it wasn’t another case of being infamous for the sake of publicity.
No promotions, no public appearances—just treating acting like a nine-to-five job sounded perfect.
Managing the estate was never his strong suit anyway. With a professional executive handling things, he only needed to review quarterly reports.
No publicity meant no leading roles—main characters had to participate in marketing.
Of course, landing a lead role was just a word from Lu Qin away.
Instead, Pei Rong picked a supporting character who appeared in the first three episodes—a spoiled young master whose family mansion is burned down by scheming enemies. After burying his family, he vanishes without a trace, taking his three-year-old son with him.
Eighteen years later, the son—now the protagonist—returns for revenge, igniting a ruthless business war.
A melodramatic saga spanning three generations.
Minimal screen time, just what he wanted.
If he wanted to return to acting quietly, he couldn’t afford a scandal before filming even began.
Pei Rong sincerely suggested, “How about I call a moving company? You can disguise yourself as a worker and sneak out.”
Lu Qin and his bodyguards were all dressed in black suits. After the bodyguards went in and out a few times, Lu Qin finally got into the car.
A few more cars were sent to follow, boxing the paparazzi behind them.
In the car, Lu Qin held Pei Rong’s fingers and belatedly asked, “Are we together now?”
Pei Rong closed his eyes. “Still under review. Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”
Lu Qin declared confidently, “Then we’re together.”
Pei Rong didn’t argue.
The car headed to Lu Qin’s home, where both the man and his luggage were unceremoniously dumped into the bedroom.
Pei Rong wanted to refuse, but once he lay down, he couldn’t be bothered to move. Worst case, I’ll just kick Lu Qin out later.
At 5:30 in the afternoon, Pei Dundun rushed home excitedly.
Lu Qin caught the dusty little troublemaker at the door. “Ahem, let’s go wash up first.”
The state of the kid directly reflected his parenting skills, which indirectly affected his standing in the beauty’s heart.
But Pei Dundun hadn’t seen his dad in 11 days. He impatiently broke free from Lu Qin and scrambled straight up to the second-floor bedroom.
“Dad! I’m back from work at the construction site!”
Pei Rong opened his eyes and immediately zeroed in on the little rascal—his clothes covered in sand, an orange plastic water bottle hanging from his chest, the last drops of water sloshing inside.
“Construction site?” Pei Rong turned to Lu Qin. Your so-called ‘good place’ is a construction site? Since when is that a place for kids?
Lu Qin rubbed his nose. “I just bought a new plot of land. The site’s been leveled but hasn’t started construction yet—it’s perfectly safe.”
He added thoughtfully, “Better for Dundun to start from the bottom. By the time he’s eighteen and takes over the company, no one can say he lacks experience, right?”
Pei Rong: “What kind of ‘bottom’—”
Pei Dundun: “I drive excavators! 800 bucks a day!”
Pei Rong: “…”
