Zheng Yan Che knew almost instantly who had kidnapped him, and after fading his initial panic, he silently let him take him away.
His body crashed into the sofa, and Zheng Yan Che reached out to remove the clothes on his head, glanced around the surroundings, and lifted his eyes to look.
Wen Shaoyu rested one hand on his hip, pulled at his tie with the other hand, and shook his neck along with the motion, which, matched with his undercurrent-surging expression, looked full of lust.
Zheng Yan Che swallowed subconsciously, his throat bobbing, and averted his head with slight panic.
Wen Shaoyu stepped on the sofa between his legs, thrust forward with a reckless air, and laughed maliciously: "Keep running, then?"
This action carried far too strong a sense of violation, and Zheng Yan Che, who had lived an honest life for thirty years, had never been treated this way, so he backed away in embarrassment and shame, widening the distance.
How could Wen Shaoyu possibly let him go? For every bit Zheng Yan Che retreated, he advanced an inch, until there was no retreat left.
He pressed against his shoulder, pinned him onto the sofa, leaned over close, and cast his entire shadow over him, a pair of cold and fierce eyes tightly grasping him.
"You two were calling each other quite affectionately, weren't you?"
Zheng Yan Che was driven to his limit by him, his whole body burning hot, and he reached out to try to block his advancing onslaught, completely unable to attend to his question.
Wen Shaoyu directly pinched his neck, forcing his head to tilt back, and questioned him in a chilling voice: "Yan Che? Does it feel so great being called that by him?"
At the mere thought that he himself had never