In the end, Zheng Yan Che still hurried into the car, full of grievances, under everyone's keenly interested gazes.
The driver tactfully stepped on the gas as soon as he fastened his seat belt. Only after the car left the villa entrance did Zheng Yan Che let out a soft breath.
Wen Shaoyu gave a quiet snort of laughter, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes to rest.
Throughout the drive, the car was frighteningly quiet.
This had never happened between Zheng Yan Che and Wen Shaoyu before. As far as he remembered, whenever the two of them were together, there were always arguments of one kind or another.
Zheng Yan Che glanced sideways. The man beside him had his eyes closed, and he could not tell whether he was asleep. His gaze traveled downward, finally settling on the hand resting on Wen Shaoyu's thigh.
The gauze was gone, as though he had never been injured, just as Wen Shaoyu was now acting as though everything before had never happened.
Zheng Yan Che silently curled his lips, turned to look out the window, and never looked to the other side again.
The driver had received only one address. When the car stopped outside the apartment building, Zheng Yan Che paused, said nothing, and got out in silence.
A minute later, as he waited by the elevator, he heard footsteps behind him, which finally stopped beside him.
The elevator moved quickly. Almost the instant he entered the code to unlock the door, Wen Shaoyu pressed Zheng Yan Che against the wall, and wet sounds rose one after another.
The navy-blue tie was tossed onto the floor, his shirt collar hung loose, and Wen Shaoyu lingered at his pale neck, unable to leave it alone.
In the pitch-black room, Zheng