Does the House Have That Kind of Thing?

Zhong Mohan paused, the hand holding the knife stilling as he turned to look at Wen Chengze.

That glance made Wen Chengze instinctively straighten up, danger washing over him in an instant.

Seeing Wen Chengze's wary expression, Zhong Mohan set down the knife and walked toward him. "What do you mean?"

As Zhong Mohan drew closer step by step, Wen Chengze pressed his lips together. Shouldn't he be the one asking that?

"You're good to me, you helped the Wen Household, and you dealt with the people who bullied me on the show. Wasn't it all because of that? Could it be because you had too much time on your hands?"

Zhong Mohan ground his teeth in frustration. This little thing—he had finally figured out his own feelings and was planning how to carry him back to his nest, yet Wen Chengze did not appreciate it at all and even thought he was after his body?

Zhong Mohan's temples throbbed as he silently consoled himself. Don't get angry. Don't get angry. He's still young. Be tolerant.

Seeing the oppressive aura around Zhong Mohan gradually settle, Wen Chengze let out a breath of relief. He had genuinely been worried that Zhong Mohan might strike him just now.

It was not that he thought himself weak, but after comparing their builds, Wen Chengze had no desire to challenge Zhong Mohan.

"If I wanted someone, there'd be plenty of people lining up. Would I have to wait specifically for you?" Some things could not be said outright; this person had to figure them out himself, or they would lose their effect.

But Zhong Mohan had not expected Wen Chengze's train of thought to take such a sharp turn.

Wen Chengze crossed his arms over his chest and gave a cold snort. "I see. There really are enough people who want to climb into Best Actor Zhong's bed to line up from Antarctica to the Arctic."

With that, Wen Chengze turned and left, leaving Zhong Mohan standing there, utterly baffled. Why was he angry again?

Wen Chengze was not exactly angry. He just felt stifled. Did Zhong Mohan's words not plainly mean that he did not fancy him?

Yet he had acted so eager, making it seem as though he had been the one imagining things.

Wen Chengze did not even have the mood to eat the fruit that had just been washed and placed on the coffee table. He sat alone on the sofa, sulking.

After handling the fresh shrimp in the kitchen, Zhong Mohan could not shake his unease. Once he had washed his hands and stepped out, he indeed saw Wen Chengze's furious back on the sofa.

He sighed inwardly.

When they first met, he had thought Xiao Ze was a gentle, steady young man. When they met again at the banquet, he had thought he was something like an enchantress, luring him into casting aside all his principles. Now, he was like a proud little fox, sulking alone because he had not gotten the candy he wanted.

"Zeze." The husky voice made Wen Chengze shudder all over.

Not even his parents or brother had ever called him Zeze. The name was far too intimate.

Zhong Mohan did not even want to sleep with him, so why was he trying so hard to please him?

Rather than sitting beside Wen Chengze, Zhong Mohan crouched in front of him and looked up at him.

Wen Chengze had long known how sexy Zhong Mohan's face was. After they had been intimately entwined, he had become even less willing to look directly at Zhong Mohan. But in this position, he had nowhere to hide.

Just as he awkwardly tried to turn away, Zhong Mohan's fingers lightly settled beneath his chin. The force was gentle, yet it kept him from turning his head.

Looking into Wen Chengze's moist eyes, Zhong Mohan sighed. "I really fell for you. I hadn't wanted it to happen this quickly."

Wen Chengze's hands at his sides suddenly clenched into fists, and his heartbeat immediately sped up. He had a feeling that what came next would be beyond anything he expected.

Zhong Mohan stared fixedly at Wen Chengze, determination in his gaze alongside a tenderness visible to the naked eye. "What I want isn't to sleep with you. What I want is..."

That final word, you, died between Zhong Mohan's lips as a pair of soft, fair hands pressed over his mouth, stopping him from saying it.

At that moment, saying Wen Chengze was shocked would not have been an exaggeration.

He did not know why Zhong Mohan had suddenly said something like that. They had known each other for less than two months in total. How could Zhong Mohan be so certain?

It was not as if Wen Chengze had never been confessed to before. Quite a few boys had confessed to him too, but back then, his heart had not stirred in the slightest. This time was different. He could feel his heart pounding wildly, feel the nervous tension rising within him. Zhong Mohan's gaze made him instinctively want to flee.

The moment Zhong Mohan saw Wen Chengze's blank expression, he knew he had pushed him too hard. But things had already reached this point. If he did not reveal his feelings and simply let Wen Chengze guess, he would only be making his path to winning his wife even more difficult. He liked challenges, but when it came to the person he loved, he did not want to take even the slightest risk.

Knowing that Wen Chengze was not in love with him yet and could not immediately return his feelings, Zhong Mohan did not pressure him. He released his fingers and said softly, "I'll go to the kitchen. Rest here for now." He gave Wen Chengze all the space and respect he could.

Only Wen Chengze remained in the living room, sitting blankly on the sofa. He looked no different from usual, but only he knew how violently his thoughts were churning inside.

Zhong Mohan liked him?

How could that be? It was not that Wen Chengze looked down on himself.

Zhong Mohan had been born into a century-old family and stood at the pinnacle. He had also brought his own career to its peak, and the number of fans Zhong Mohan had was an astronomical, terrifying figure.

Meanwhile, he was only a child with psychological issues who loved to be difficult. How could Zhong Mohan possibly like him?

Though he was usually composed and never flustered when handling matters, he knew very clearly that he was not that mature. He was even laughably childish.

Zhong Mohan should not like him, and he did not deserve Zhong Mohan's affection.

After his thoughts churned for a long while, Wen Chengze could not help turning his gaze toward the kitchen. Though he could not see Zhong Mohan, he could imagine the man's seriousness and focus as he prepared the ingredients, his lowered brows and eyes, every inch of him radiating gentleness.

Zhong Mohan was mostly distant and unapproachable before others, coldness written between his brows. Yet before him, Zhong Mohan seemed never to have shown that side of himself.

From the very beginning, Zhong Mohan had treated him differently.

After sitting on the sofa for a while, Wen Chengze stood and walked toward the kitchen again.

Although he had just confessed and seemed to have been rejected, Zhong Mohan showed no sign of discomfort. When he saw Wen Chengze approach, he said gently, "Hungry? I made some small dishes over there. Have some first. Dinner will be ready in five minutes."

Wen Chengze remained standing at the doorway. Several seconds later, he said, "Let's eat together later." There was a hint of awkwardness in his voice.

Zhong Mohan turned and smiled at Wen Chengze. "All right."

Wen Chengze was slightly dazed by Zhong Mohan's smile. Now he understood why so many wealthy young ladies only wished to trade everything for a single smile from Zhong Mohan.

When he did not smile, he carried an innate air of authority. But when the corners of his lips lifted and even his eyes seemed to smile, it felt as though you were his entire world, as though he smiled for you alone. That warm, restrained smile sent a rush of adrenaline through him in an instant.

Clearly, Zhong Mohan was the one whose confession had been rejected, yet Wen Chengze felt like he was the one uncomfortable all over.

While Wen Chengze was lost in thought, Zhong Mohan had already prepared dinner.

"What are you thinking about? Time to eat. Weren't you hungry?" Zhong Mohan curled a finger and lightly tapped Wen Chengze's forehead.

Only then did Wen Chengze touch the spot that had just been tapped. It did not hurt; instead, it felt exceedingly intimate.

Had he been flirted with again?

Sitting at the dining table, Wen Chengze and Zhong Mohan faced each other.

Wen Chengze ate elegantly with his chopsticks, but Zhong Mohan quickly noticed a problem: Wen Chengze did not dare look at him.

"Zeze, what's wrong?"

Wen Chengze paused with his chopsticks halfway to a dish, his voice sounding normal. "Nothing."

But Zhong Mohan easily heard the tension in Wen Chengze's voice, just like that little kitten on that night.

He had clearly been terrified, yet he had still stubbornly urged Zhong Mohan to hurry up.

"Xiao Ze, I'm the one who was rejected, and I'm also the one who needs to work hard to pursue you. All you need to do is enjoy being loved. You don't need to think about anything else. Being good to you is my choice. My love should not be a burden to you."

Only after he finished speaking did Wen Chengze look up at Zhong Mohan. The sincerity in the man's eyes was not false in the slightest.

In that instant, Wen Chengze became even more flustered.

It was not as if he had never been cherished. His family unquestionably doted on him, but he knew that affection was built upon blood ties, family love, and guilt. He knew what a terrible person he was. How could there be someone else willing to treat him well without conditions?

But Zhong Mohan was not someone who lied. Every dish on the table was something Wen Chengze loved, proof of Zhong Mohan's feelings.

"All right, I understand."

If it had been someone else, he could have rejected them without hesitation. But Zhong Mohan seemed to be... different.

That night, Wen Chengze lay on the bed in Zhong Mohan's bedroom, seriously recalling the time he had spent with Zhong Mohan. He truly was different.

When Zhong Mohan emerged from the bathroom, he saw Wen Chengze lying on the bed wearing only a bathrobe. His pupils constricted in that instant, and Zhong Mohan suddenly did not know how to walk.

Wen Chengze looked at Zhong Mohan and said lazily, "Come here. The guest bedroom is too cold, and I don't want to sleep there. Sleep with me."

How could central heating be cold? But Zhong Mohan did not ask that question. Anyone who asked would be an idiot.

Yet that was far from the end of it.

After Zhong Mohan lay down, Wen Chengze suddenly turned over and sat astride his waist.

Zhong Mohan's body went rigid as he looked at the person on top of him, but Wen Chengze's eyes were sultry, his moist lips slightly parted. "I want it."

Zhong Mohan's immediate reaction made Wen Chengze smile, and then he leaned down.

In the midst of the heated atmosphere, Wen Chengze suddenly asked, "Does the house have that kind of thing?"

What followed was Zhong Mohan's low curse. He did not fool around with other people, so how could he possibly keep that sort of thing at home?

Perhaps this was what it meant for a hero to be brought low. The man stroked Wen Chengze's back, helping him ease the tension, his voice edged with frustration. "Go to sleep."

Wen Chengze lazily yawned. "Even if we don't go all the way, I can still help you."