Yun Che's brow furrowed tightly, as if bound by invisible threads. "What exactly do you want?" His voice cut through the silence of the room with cold hardness.
The man seemed to genuinely ponder for a moment, a faint, ambiguous smile playing on his lips. "Purpose? If I had to say... perhaps I'm... very interested in you?"
"In me?" Yun Che's voice sharpened with wariness. "My what?"
"Your body." The man answered bluntly, even with a hint of appreciative amusement.
Yun Che froze, his mind blanking for an instant. "My body? Organs? Corneas? Or..." He instinctively braced for the worst.
"..." The man fell silent for a few seconds, then chuckled lowly, the sound strangely magnetic in the darkness. "You're adorable," he said, his tone teasing. "I have no interest in your corneas. However..." His voice lowered, dropping to an intimate, husky rasp, "...your lips are indeed very soft. The feel... is quite memorable."
"?!" Yun Che's nerves felt like they'd been struck by a sledgehammer, instantly tightening to their limit. "Are you fucking insane?!" he roared, humiliation and fury scorching his reason.
The man spread his hands, his posture relaxed, as if stating an inconsequential fact. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm perfectly healthy and fully functional." His tone shifted, carrying an undeniable command. "In short, if you don't want your meticulously crafted five-year cover as a spy to be shredded before dawn, tonight... you'd better be good. You're a smart man. You understand the stakes, right?"
He regarded Yun Che gently, his gaze seeming to pierce through the black silk blindfold, precisely capturing the panic and unease Yun Che struggled to suppress. Then, like coaxing a spitting cat, his voice dropped to a whisper, laced with temptation: "Come. Come here."
Yun Che clicked his tongue in irritation. Five years undercover had honed him to be cool and controlled, rarely swayed by emotion. Yet, inexplicably, facing this unidentified, enigmatic man, a nameless fury always surged uncontrollably, burning him with restless agitation.
He shuffled slowly off the bed, his hands cuffed behind his back, his balance precarious. His foot caught on the trailing bedsheet, and his body lurched violently, threatening a humiliating sprawl.
In that split second, he seemed to catch an infinitesimal rustle of fabric from across the room – as if the man had instinctively started to rise and catch him, only to forcibly restrain the impulse at the last moment.
The man merely patted his own thigh lightly, his voice steady and devoid of inflection. "Come. Sit."
Yun Che cursed the man viciously in his mind, his face darkening like storm clouds. Suppressing the urge to tear the man apart, he walked over step by step, carrying his humiliation and resentment, and straddled the man's solid thighs. The moment he settled, he immediately twisted his head away, as if looking at the man was torture.
The man emitted a low, pleasant chuckle, seemingly amused by his reaction. His left arm slid naturally around Yun Che's lean waist, pulling him closer until their bodies pressed tight, almost feeling each other's body heat. His right hand, however, exerted irresistible force, gripping Yun Che's jaw and forcing him to turn his head, to "face" him – even though those beautiful eyes were still veiled in black silk.
He leaned down, his warm lips brushing a light kiss against the tense corner of Yun Che's mouth, an action imbued with a strange intimacy. Then, he posed a question that caught Yun Che completely off guard, his voice tinged with an elusive note of contemplation: "You've been by Ye Jin's side for five years, deceiving him for five years. Has there ever been... even for a single moment... when you felt guilt towards him?"
Yun Che was utterly stunned. The question was like a fine needle, piercing precisely into the most hidden corner of his heart. He couldn't fathom why this man, who had invaded his room in the dead of night and subjected him to coercion, would suddenly ask this.
Guilt? Yun Che's thoughts drifted momentarily. Yes. Occasionally. In those fleeting moments touched by Ye Jin's unexpected leniency. Among all subordinates, his rank wasn't the highest, yet he was often permitted to stay close. The treatment was generous; even when he messed up, punishments were often severe in threat but light in execution, brushed aside easily. In the Human Security Bureau training camp, Ye Jin was depicted as a cruel, cold-blooded, harsh, and emotionless tyrant. But after five years of close proximity, what Yun Che saw didn't entirely match that description... Or rather, at least, he hadn't personally experienced that legendary terror.
His deception stemmed from allegiance, from the Human Federation standing behind him. Towards Ye Jin personally, he held no malice. So that sliver of guilt existed, like a few grains of sand in a vast desert, a lone fish in an endless ocean – tiny, yet undeniably real.
But why should he bare this private feeling to this bastard?! Yun Che snapped back to reality, his voice cold and hard as iron: "Why feel guilt? We are enemies. An adversarial relationship. What guilt is there to speak of?"
The man's body seemed to stiffen almost imperceptibly. The arm encircling Yun Che's waist slowly tightened, the force so great it felt like it might snap his spine.
A long silence stretched through the darkness, heavy and suffocating. Finally, Yun Che heard the man release an extremely soft, complex sigh – like the release of a disappointed expectation, yet carrying a trace of inexpressible loss.
"Alright," the man's voice returned to its earlier calm, even sounding somewhat detached. "I see."
Without warning, he pushed Yun Che off his lap. Yun Che stumbled, caught off guard, barely steadying himself on the cold floor, his mind filled with confusion.
"It's late," the man stood up, his voice devoid of emotion. "Go back to sleep."
"?" Yun Che was baffled, completely unable to follow this abrupt shift. "What the hell are you playing at?!"
The sound of the door turning signaled the man's departure. Yun Che panicked: "Hey! The cuffs! The cuffs aren't open yet!"
"Timed," the man's voice came from the doorway, carrying a hint of barely perceptible weariness. "They'll unlock automatically in ten minutes."
Before the words fully faded, the door clicked softly shut. The man's footsteps quickly receded, vanishing down the corridor.
Yun Che felt the man was utterly, bafflingly insane! Ten minutes later, a soft click sounded behind him, and the cuffs sprang open. He rubbed his sore, reddened wrists, then roughly yanked off the blindfold. The moment his vision cleared, he immediately swept his gaze around the bedroom – everything was normal, as if that dangerous man had never appeared, leaving no trace.
Yun Che irritably ran a hand through his disheveled black hair, shoving the strands off his forehead, his brow knotted into a scowl. His situation was already precarious, walking on thin ice, and now this disruptive menace had appeared out of nowhere! How much did this man know about him? What was his goal? Everything was shrouded in mist, but one thing was undeniable – this man was no good!
The immense pressure weighed Yun Che down, keeping him awake all night. It wasn't that he couldn't sleep – alcohol worked wonders on him; a few sips of red wine could easily send him into slumber. But he dared not sleep! He feared the man would return, feared facing a more terrifying assault in the vulnerable state of sleep.
He bent down, picked up the military dagger that had fallen to the floor, pulled up his pajama hem to casually wipe off the dust, then carefully slid it back into the hidden compartment beneath the mattress. Then, he sat rigidly on the edge of the bed, clutching his phone, the screen's faint glow illuminating his tense jawline, waiting until the sky outside began to lighten.
Only when dawn broke did he manage to close his eyes for a little over an hour. Upon waking, the first thing he did was open the special laptop that never connected to the internet. The screen lit up; the triple-encrypted message sent last night – the one carrying his hope for escape, the "Request for Extraction" – still sat quietly in the outbox, unanswered.
His superior, Mo Ting, Director of the Human Security Bureau, a man in his fifties who had cared for him since he was orphaned in childhood, a mentor and father figure during his military training... Yun Che had thought his request would be approved. But the undercover operation was too critical; even Director Mo Ting needed to consult with higher-ups. Yun Che could only suppress his anxiety and force himself to wait patiently.
At eleven in the morning, Ye Jin summoned him for lunch.
Yun Che only then remembered this obligation. Despite a thousand internal refusals, as a subordinate, he had no right to decline.
In the top-floor restaurant of the Rose Manor, the vaulted ceiling soared high. A massive, rose-shaped skylight was set into it, its layered petal patterns refracting dazzling light in the sun. Autumn sunlight streamed through the clean glass, slanting down to gild the silver strands at Ye Jin's temples with a shimmering halo.
Ye Jin was gazing down at his right hand. Near the base of his thumb, close to the wrist, a dark red bite mark was clearly visible, the blood that had seeped out now dried and crusted. He remembered Yun Che had a sharp canine tooth; no wonder the bite was so fierce.
He tugged his lips into a wry smile, murmuring to himself, "Truly like a guard dog."
Then, he placed his left hand over the bite mark. A soft white light emanated from his palm, swirling and flowing. The wound on his skin visibly healed and smoothed over, vanishing completely in the blink of an eye, leaving not even a trace of redness, as if it had never existed.
Five minutes later, the heavy, carved wooden door of the restaurant opened silently. Cang Ming, dressed in a tailored black vest and crisp white shirt, entered. He walked briskly to Ye Jin's side, bowed slightly, and reported something in a low voice.
Ye Jin gave a slight nod. "Let him in."
Soon, the door opened again. Yun Che walked in. He too wore a white shirt today, no jacket, the hem neatly tucked into tailored black trousers. A narrow black armband cinched his sleeve, preventing wrinkles, accentuating his tall, straight posture and sharp appearance.
However, faint shadows lingered beneath those beautiful, ink-black eyes, and strands of hair fell carelessly across his forehead. Despite his efforts to maintain a calm facade, his nerves were stretched taut like a drawn bowstring, every muscle in his body tense and alert. Knowing this was a banquet laid with traps, he had no choice but to attend.
The moment Yun Che stepped into the restaurant, the waiters in the corners seemed to receive an invisible signal. They immediately picked up silver trays and, like well-trained dancers, began weaving through the hall, laying out dishes with practiced efficiency.
It was a luxurious long table capable of seating over a dozen people, adorned with a magnificent silver candelabra in the center. Yun Che walked straight to the far end of the table, pulled out the chair farthest from Ye Jin, and prepared to sit down.
Tap. Tap. Ye Jin rapped his knuckles lightly but firmly on the smooth obsidian tabletop, his gaze indicating the seat beside him.
Instinct drove Yun Che to resist proximity to Ye Jin. He hesitated. "Sir, this... isn't proper."
Ye Jin's lips curved slightly, his smile gentle yet brooking no argument. "It's just the two of us today. No need for formalities."
Yun Che had no choice but to comply, walking over to take the seat at Ye Jin's left hand.
Well-trained waiters swiftly arranged the appetizers before them. An array of exquisite dishes filled the table.
Ye Jin's gaze settled on Yun Che's slightly weary face. "Didn't sleep well last night? You look tired," he asked, knowing the answer.
Yun Che's eyes flickered. "Yes... a bit of insomnia."
"Insomnia?" Ye Jin narrowed his rose-colored eyes slightly, his probing gaze sweeping over Yun Che's face like a physical touch. Then, as if nothing had happened, he looked away, his expression turning neutral again. A meaningful smile played on his lips as he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice to a suggestive murmur: "Insomnia... Bambi? Are you sure it wasn't... a night spent in passionate embrace?"