Chapter 35: Just a Hint of a Heartbeat

In the morning, the group sat down together for breakfast.

Qin Li massaged his lower back with one hand, looking sluggish. When someone asked what was wrong, he complained, "I had a dream all night long, don't even get me started. I dreamt a pack of wolves was chasing me and biting at my heels. I ran for my life in the dream, and now my back is aching and sore."

Chen Yuning inserted a straw into a carton of milk and asked, "What did you do last night?"

Qin Li scratched a mosquito bite on his face. "I don't quite remember. I think I went to find Yan Zhuo to fight, and then he conceded..."

"Yan Zhuo conceded?" Chen Yuning let out a snort of laughter. "I think that part is definitely the dream."

Qin Li felt a bit guilty and changed the subject. "But seriously, the wolf howling in my dream sounded incredibly real." He looked thoughtful and leaned toward Wen Xi, who was sitting silently nearby. "Brother Wen, there shouldn't be any wolves around here, right?"

"What are you thinking? Of course not," Wen Xi replied with a helpless smile. "Leave the fighting for later; don't go looking for Yan Zhuo recently."

Qin Li wanted to ask more, but Wen Xi pressed a hand onto his head. "Don't ask, kid."

Qin Li muttered under his breath, "I'm not a kid."

Watching from the side, Chen Yuning found it novel, thinking to himself that Brother Wen really was something; if anyone else had said that, Qin Li would have definitely flown into a rage.

Wen Xi discarded his trash and headed toward the living quarters of Yan Zhuo and the others, familiar with the route. Song Chengfeng was not around. Wen Xi scanned the living room, extended his psychic perception for a moment, and then knocked on the bedroom door.

Inside the bedroom, two windows were left slightly ajar, letting in the cool morning breeze. Yan Zhuo lay on the bed with his shirt disheveled, his face flushed and damp, his eyelashes trembling as they held back beads of sweat and tears. He seemed trapped in a dream from which he would never wake.

Qu Yan smoothed his collar and looked toward the door. "Who is it?" It wouldn't be Song Chengfeng, and surely not Qin Li.

"It's me," Wen Xi's voice was measured. "How is Yan Zhuo?"

They did not speak loudly, but Yan Zhuo still woke up. His crimson eyes locked onto Qu Yan, sweat tracing his jawline. His lips moved slightly: "Uncomfortable..."

Qu Yan wasn't sure if he was lucid or not, so he hesitated before answering, "He is fine."

With his hands and feet bound, Yan Zhuo bared his teeth, struggling to no avail. He rubbed restlessly against the bed, whispering repeatedly, "Uncomfortable... Qu Yan..."

He must be delirious. Wen Xi, still outside the door, didn't seem to have left. Qu Yan asked, "How long will he be like this?"

"How long..." Wen Xi toyed with the doorknob, avoiding the question, his tone rising slightly. "Is Mr. Qu regretting this?"

Behind the face that could deceive anyone, Wen Xi actually hid a soul that was incredibly annoying. Qu Yan realized this once again, gritting his teeth with a sudden urge to punch Wen Xi.

"Snap!"

Yan Zhuo's strength was too great, and one of the vines around his wrists snapped.

Qu Yan had to bind him again; releasing the vines wasn't difficult, but dealing with Yan Zhuo was. His struggles grew violent, his teeth biting into his lips until blood trickled down the corners of his mouth.

The large bed creaked incessantly, a sound clearly audible outside the bedroom. Wen Xi’s expression froze for a moment. Thinking of something, he spoke faster: "He will recover in seven days at the latest. I'm sorry to trouble you for a few more days, Mr. Qu. I'll take my leave now, so as not to disturb you."

Buttons fell away during the struggle, revealing smooth, taut muscles. Yan Zhuo arched his back repeatedly, the fabric on his back gradually soaking through with sweat. Even the wolf ears atop his head drooped, lying limply against his hair.

His wolf tail thrashed against the thin quilt, which had been torn into strips. Yan Zhuo moved slowly toward Qu Yan. Just as he was about to fall off the bed, Qu Yan stopped him.

Qu Yan pinched Yan Zhuo's cheeks with one hand, forcing him to release his tortured lips. His fingertips touched the still-warm blood. Qu Yan leaned down and asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"Want you... want Qu Yan."

His Adam's apple bobbed. Because he was bound by the vines, Yan Zhuo’s usually straight back was slightly hunched. He panted heavily, his clenched fists tightening until the veins on the back of his hands were prominent. "Touch me..."

His fingertips were touched by something soft and wet. Qu Yan did not pull his hand away, letting Yan Zhuo lick his fingers until every trace of blood was wiped clean.

"What is your relationship with Wen Xi?" Qu Yan heard himself ask.

He did care after all—about the relationship between Yan Zhuo and Wen Xi, or perhaps, he cared about Yan Zhuo himself. He had long ago branded Yan Zhuo as his exclusive property, and he never liked his things to be tainted by the scent of others.

"Yan Hangzhang's adopted son... Wen Xi... also an experimental assistant... threatened him... was by Yan Hangzhang..."

Yan Zhuo’s words were incoherent, his breath hot as he spoke. Qu Yan understood the gist and continued, "Do you like him?"

"No!" The red eyes showed shock and grievance. "Like Qu Yan, only want Qu Yan."

His expression was persistent, and he didn't forget his current needs, kissing along Qu Yan's wrist, half his body nearly sliding off the bed. "Want you to touch me."

"Alright then." Even though it was the expected answer, Qu Yan still curved his lips upward.

He was too paranoid; only repeated promises could put him at ease. And Yan Zhuo was too good, willing to offer everything for the person he liked, which greatly satisfied Qu Yan’s desire for possession and control.

He was satisfied and no longer stingy. Besides, he had always been interested in exploring Yan Zhuo's body.

Like a string stretched to its limit, the youth’s body was taut. Receiving Qu Yan’s touch, the psychological pleasure far surpassed the physical. Yan Zhuo’s lips parted slightly, his breathing deepened, his face flushed without a strand of hair to cover it, the corners of his eyes slightly damp.

He quickly surrendered, looking at Qu Yan with a dazed expression.

Qu Yan was slightly stunned, laughing softly as he comforted him: "Do you like it that much?"

Yan Zhuo buried his face in the quilt. He wasn't fully conscious, but he knew he had lost his dignity.

As the sun shifted, the time without any leisure activities dragged