Chapter 8: Fish Him Out, Call a Doctor.

Chapter 8: Fish Him Out, Call a Doctor.

"You want him to let you go?"

In front of him stood a long-haired man with sharp features and heavy brows, but he gave off this vibe of a male succubus.

But it was enough to make your skin crawl.

Wen Yu looked at the crowd—way too many people. He'd already cried once, and now the tears were coming back. He asked cautiously, "Really... you'll really let me go?"

Wen Yu thought he'd met a living Bodhisattva, but the next moment, the long-haired man tipped his glass and poured the wine onto the toe of his own shoe.

The wine was a deep, rich color.

"I was planning to watch a good show. You cry so easily—makes me wonder how much water this body can hold. A lake or a sea?"

"But I'm not that unreasonable. Drink all the wine at my feet, and I'll have them let you go."

The long-haired man's hair spilled over his blue suit. "Drink up."

Wen Yu hesitated, but he didn't want to be these people's toy. He knelt on the carpet, knees aching, but suddenly he couldn't feel it anymore.

The alcohol they'd forced on him earlier was kicking in.

Wen Yu felt something burning inside him. His vision blurred—lights turned into blobs, people into shadows, and the carpet patterns into slithering snakes.

He blinked, tears and sweat clinging to his lashes, his legs going jelly.

Wen Yu's body was limp, so he could only crawl forward, under everyone's eyes, like a wounded animal—so pathetic.

Somehow, the mist in his eyes got thicker, the lights turned into fuzzy blobs, and those feet became two blurry black shapes.

Suddenly, the crowd around him exploded like a bomb went off!

Because Wen Yu had crawled to the wrong person and mistaken the wrong shoes. Everyone was on high alert.

Especially the long-haired man, who was scared speechless.

The next second, just as Wen Yu's lips got close to those shoes, the man moved.

The shoe's toe pressed against his chin, tilting his face up. Wen Yu's face was bright red, his lashes soaked.

His eyes met the person in front of him.

Everyone around realized this pretty boy was probably about to be fed to the sharks.

Wen Yu looked at the familiar silhouette, felt the familiar presence, and his shaking hand grabbed the man's pant leg.

"Mein kleines Haustier." Gu Junhan said in German, watching Wen Yu's tormented state. "What a pathetic little bitch."

The long-haired man beside him was stunned. "Master Gu, you know him?"

Gu Junhan's gaze was icy. He said nothing.

He reached out, his thumb and forefinger digging into Wen Yu's waist, and lifted him straight up.

Wen Yu sat on Gu Junhan's lap, shooting back, "You're the dog."

The young man was forced to sit with his legs spread wide, and Gu Junhan was at a loss for words.

The cigarette burning low in his hand suddenly pressed into Wen Yu's waist, leaving a round mark.

"Ah..." Wen Yu was delirious, looking half-dead. It hurt like hell.

Wen Yu struggled, reeking of booze, his nails digging into the side of Gu Junhan's neck. The man's tone was impatient. "Look at me—do you know who I am?"

Gu Junhan held Wen Yu tight, the heat making it impossible for him to tell what was in front of him.

Wen Yu blurted out of nowhere.

"Are you that Ah Huang the old man next door keeps?"

Ah Huang...

Gu Junhan went silent, squeezing Wen Yu's waist hard.

He scooped the man up with one arm and threw out a single line. "We're leaving."

The others could only watch their chance to cut a deal with Gu Junhan vanish—an opportunity they'd begged for, shattered by a kid.

The long-haired man said nothing, just turning his blame on Zhao Chenzui. "Just as I thought—you set your sights on someone you shouldn't have."

Zhao Chenzui was innocent, and his uncle shot him a glare, cursing, "Get lost."

Gu Junhan walked toward the helicopter on the roof, Wen Yu dangling like a chick being carried by the scruff.

The wind seemed ripped to shreds. The estate's helipad was lined with people.

Everyone around looked fierce and menacing, except the butler beside them, whose face was kind but hid a knife behind his smile.

"Boss," the butler called out. He'd followed Gu Junhan for ten years, the head of the Eastern Continent mines, known as Mr. Dong.

Gu Junhan came down, carrying Wen Yu. The estate was huge, but this spot was close to the pool.

The next second, cold water flooded Wen Yu's nose. He was tossed into the pool.

Wen Yu couldn't swim. He struggled desperately, but his head wouldn't clear.

"Help me..."

Gu Junhan didn't move. He just sat there, watching the kid beg.

Three months—he hadn't even bothered to send a single message on the phone he'd given him. Time to wash that brain out.

Till Wen Yu stopped struggling.

A subordinate nearby asked, "Boss, is he..."

Gu Junhan hadn't killed him. "Fish him out. Get a doctor."

The next morning, Wen Yu woke up buried in a white cotton pillow. He sat up, his pale feet landing on the plush carpet covering the floor. Around his neck hung a WRTIX designer necklace.

The room was decorated in blue and white tones, with white curtains swaying gently.

Wen Yu, still drunk, only remembered being tricked by Wen Qingshi, someone burning him with a cigarette, and then... falling into the water?

He threw off the blanket and found himself in a perfectly fitted pair of pajamas.

Wen Yu went downstairs and saw Gu Junhan sitting on the couch, reading.

Was this the man he'd saved three months ago?!

"Hello?"

Wen Yu's voice had a hesitant lilt to it as he tentatively said hi.

The man on the sofa set down his book.

Gu Junhan, dressed in dark loungewear, looked far more clean-cut than he had three months ago.

He had a refined air, but his deep black eyes seemed to size you up, though he hid it well.

"Awake?" Gu Junhan said in a low voice. "Come eat."

Wen Yu glanced at the table—the bowl was jade, the chopsticks gold, and the edges of the plates were etched with fine patterns. They looked less like tableware and more like museum pieces.

The food itself was simple—congee, a few small dishes, and a steamer of dumplings, all things Wen Yu had bought in the county town before and really liked.

Wen Yu sat down, picked up the hefty chopsticks, and hesitated before saying, "Thank you for saving me."

Gu Junhan, ever the gentleman, picked up a piece of food with his chopsticks and set it in Wen Yu's bowl.

"No need," the man said, a slight curve at the corner of his mouth softening his face. "With all this back and forth, doesn't that make us pretty familiar by now?"

Wen Yu blinked, caught off guard.

"We're... bonded for life or death?"

Wen Yu said it half-joking.

Gu Junhan's deep black eyes rested on him, heavy and unreadable, like a dark current under still water.

"Yes," his voice dropped a notch. "A life-and-death bond."

There was a beat of silence.

"Isn't your nickname Xiaobao? Can I call you that?"

"Sure." Wen Yu was a bit surprised but nodded.

Wen Yu picked up the jade bowl, took a sip of the congee, and popped a dumpling into his mouth.

The dumplings tasted familiar—exactly like the ones he'd eaten with Gu Junhan in the county town.

Wen Yu stayed at the estate for a few days, and every night, Gu Junhan would watch his body late into the night.

As Wen Yu lay in bed, Gu Junhan greedily planted kisses on the young man's lips, ears, and even his thighs.

Every morning, the marks were obvious.

At dinner, Wen Yu spoke up, "Um, I've been here a while, but I think I should head home. Dad will worry."

Gu Junhan was still adding food to Wen Yu's bowl. "Didn't you sleep well last night?"

Wen Yu looked at Gu Junhan, whose sudden words felt like ice picks stabbing into his throat.

"Your estate has too many mosquitoes," Wen Yu said honestly, "and I don't want to put you out."

The man looked up at him and simply said, "Fine."