When Jiang Yu returned to the rented apartment, more than two hours had passed since he left.

The moment he opened the door, he saw Qiu Shihuan sprawled across the living-room sofa, sleeping lightly.

He wasn't even covered with a blanket. His thin shirt had ridden up, revealing the full contours of his abdominal muscles, the line from his navel disappearing into the partially unzipped fly of his pants.

By the stove, Li Yuanxi was still busying herself.

The pots, bowls, and dishes on the table had yet to be cleared away. Apparently, while waiting for Jiang Yu, she had cooked three servings of instant noodles and stir-fried a few simple dishes.

There were also two plates of leftovers wrapped in plastic wrap, presumably saved for him.

“Thanks for taking care of him for me.”

Jiang Yu took off his coat and set the plastic bags on the dining table. From inside, he pulled out a carton of eggs, a large bottle of Coca-Cola bought as part of a bundle deal, and several small bags of puffed snacks.

“Take this.” Jiang Yu handed Li Yuanxi a bag of chips. “It’s still early. I’ll clean up the rest. You can eat while watching TV. Just keep the volume down—he’s sleeping.”

“No need to thank me. You two saved me. It’s the least I can do.”

Li Yuanxi smiled sweetly.

Jiang Yu loosened his collar, took a can of ice-cold Coke, and gently touched it to Qiu Shihuan’s cheek.

“Prince, you can’t sleep here.” He bent down, pulled the hem of his shirt over his exposed stomach, and said softly, “And you haven't even pulled your clothes back down. Aren’t you worried about catching a chill and getting diarrhea?”

“Too hot—” Qiu Shihuan mumbled sleepily, rolling over without even bothering to open his eyes. His arm draped over Jiang Yu’s arm as his body pressed against him. “What was that cold thing just now?”

“Coke. The ice-cold Coke you wanted so badly. Did you forget?”

“Let me think… But now I want orange juice instead… Uncle, what time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“Uncle, I waited for you for so long. Was it two hours?”

“Almost three. Sorry, something held me up. Still sleepy? Want me to take you to bed?”

Qiu Shihuan wrapped his arms tightly around Jiang Yu’s shoulders and buried his face against his chest, nodding.

Jiang Yu had no choice but to indulge him. He slid an arm around his back, then hooked his other arm beneath his knees and lifted him into a horizontal carry. The sleepy young man obediently curled up in his arms.

Jiang Yu nudged open the bedroom door with his toes, sweeping aside the various clothes scattered across the carpet.

Just as he was about to place Qiu Shihuan onto the chaotic single bed, he lost his grip for the first time.

Qiu Shihuan refused to cooperate, clinging tightly to his back with both arms as though determined not to surrender.

“Shihuan, didn’t you want to sleep?” Jiang Yu first put his legs onto the bed, but he simply couldn't free himself from the upper half of Qiu Shihuan’s body. Helplessly, he tried to reason with him. “All right, stop clinging to me. You’re still growing. If you’re tired, just go to sleep.”

Qiu Shihuan hummed beside his ear. “Uncle, you came back so late. Where did you go?”

“To buy things.” Jiang Yu smiled as he grabbed a pillow and tucked it beneath the hollow of Qiu Shihuan’s lower back. “The supermarket had a special sale today. Eggs were discounted, so there were lots of people. Checking out took forever. I lost quite a bit of time.”

“Uncle.”

The delicate face turned toward him.

They were so close that it was impossible to tell whose breath was whose.

Qiu Shihuan opened his eyes wide and stared coldly at him, devoid of the slightest emotion.

“You’re lying. I’m sure of it—hearing lies always puts me in a terrible mood. Do you feel that way too? Maybe I should pull out your tongue? Or remove your vocal cords? What do you think, Uncle?”

A thin layer of cold sweat suddenly appeared on Jiang Yu’s neck.

“No.”

Their breaths seemed to freeze against one another’s skin.

Jiang Yu answered firmly, almost instinctively trying to put distance between them.

He wanted to deliberately control his heartbeat, breathing, pupils, and sweat glands.

Impossible. And doing so would only make things worse.

Qiu Shihuan was an expert at reading microexpressions. If he wanted to know something, there was practically nothing he couldn't find out.

So hiding the truth was far less convincing than simply shaking his head.

Qiu Shihuan gave an almost inaudible snort. He released the unnaturally tense Jiang Yu and lay back beneath the covers.

“Just kidding! Don’t be so nervous. You scared me too. Oh, right, Uncle, do you remember what you promised me earlier?”

Jiang Yu instinctively took a step backward.

“What?”

Qiu Shihuan cried out unhappily. Hugging his pillow, his eyes immediately grew moist, and he began sniffling softly.

The speed of his emotional transition caught Jiang Yu completely off guard.

“You actually forgot? How could you forget? Uncle never took his promise to me seriously. That’s so mean, so mean!”

Seeing Qiu Shihuan lose his temper, Jiang Yu immediately sat on the edge of the bed and caught his flailing wrist.

“All right, all right. It’s all my fault. Uncle’s getting old and can't remember things anymore. How about you give me one little hint?”

Qiu Shihuan sniffed.

His well-muscled upper body shifted a little closer to Jiang Yu. The seductive young man beckoned him over with one finger.

“Then come a little closer, Uncle. I’ll tell you.”

Jiang Yu helplessly leaned toward his lips.

His whisper was as soft as a kitten that had yet to break free of its birth sac.

“Steamed—egg—custard. You promised me before, Uncle. That still counts, right?”

Their lips were within inches of each other.

Their eyelashes were barely a hair's breadth apart.

Soft limbs.

An invisible fire churning between them.

A secret, beautiful private world.

A thought—a somewhat unfamiliar thought—appeared, then vanished.

The young body possessed a completely natural allure. It had nothing to do with gender, only pure appreciation, pure envy, and yearning.

For an instant, Jiang Yu’s fingernails dug into his palm, and the inside of his mouth stung from biting down. But he couldn't stop. A body brimming with strength and youth was simply too evocative, especially after the two of them had already dared to explore each other so intimately.

He had to use this method to force down the strange turmoil in his heart.

Jiang Yu knew what it was: a desire for conquest that could become lethal at any moment. He understood his position perfectly.

This was the apple of Eden.

The fruit of knowledge that God had explicitly forbidden them to eat—the rule clearly stated, the prohibition absolute. It was taboo, temptation, and humanity’s deepest desire, one that should never be satisfied.

Jiang Yu quickly stood up.

“It still counts. Whatever I promised you, I’ll give you.”

Qiu Shihuan watched his retreating back as the bedroom door remained half-open.

He rolled over counterclockwise, his legs unconsciously drawing together. His right hand rested on his stomach while his left arm supported the back of his neck. Lying on his back, he let out a long breath.

“Something’s wrong.”

Qiu Shihuan stared at the grime on the ceiling, muttering to himself before turning toward the window. His pupils didn't blink.

“Something’s wrong. What else is he hiding? What is it? What should I do?”

After a long while, he slowly spread his five fingers and stared at the mark left by the ring on his ring finger.

He smiled happily.

“It’s okay, it’s okay—you can fool the heavens and cross the sea. You can try to deceive everyone. But you absolutely cannot escape my eyes.”

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Jiang Yu stood before the cutting board.

The kitchen knife repeated its mechanical motion, slicing the scallions into thin pieces.

Water boiled in the pot, bubbles gurgling up as it reached its boiling point.

He was distracted.

His mind was filled with strings of encrypted characters.

After finishing the last section of scallion, he lowered the knife and sliced a mushroom in half.

Back at the Geek CAT cybercafe, Jiang Yu had used specialized techniques to investigate Qiu Shihuan. These personal details couldn't be found through ordinary online searches.

For example, the deliberately altered background and résumé associated with Qiu Shihuan, down to news reports and call records linked to his name.

Once the parameters were entered, the information could be filtered instantly.

But the results surprised Jiang Yu.

His address, media photographs, gossip, even fabricated reports—all of them were completely clean.

The only thing he could find was a charity foundation celebration Qiu Shihuan had attended at the age of nine. It was also the first time President Qiu had allowed his previously obscure adopted son to enter the public eye.

After all, during the previous nine years, no one had known anything about him.

The photograph was blurry, probably a candid shot.

In it, President Qiu was holding his adopted son’s hand, the two standing very close together. Because they were concealed by the man's tall figure and the shadow of the car, Qiu Shihuan’s expression was difficult to make out.

Perhaps it was just an illusion, but in the corner of the photograph—which couldn't be enlarged—something seemed to be visible in the back seat of the car.

Qiu Ang was equally strange.

Aside from being the chairman of several publicly listed companies and controlling almost half of the Federation’s political power, virtually all the speculation surrounding him—election manipulation, political scheming, and so forth—was baseless and drowned out by overwhelmingly positive reports.

He devoted himself to charity and to improving laws concerning adoption and foster families.

In short, Qiu Ang was practically a perfect person on the internet.

Jiang Yu suddenly felt pain in his finger.

A piece of skin and flesh had been sliced cleanly from the right side of his index finger, and blood instantly splattered across the cutting board.

Frowning, he sucked on the injured finger, threw the piece of tissue into the sink, and immediately began washing the blood from the knife.

Qiu Ang was very suspicious.

In fact, anyone connected to Ibis Technology was suspicious.

The larger the target and the wider its sphere of influence, the more lice and ticks it should have. If Qiu Ang really were as spotless as the media portrayed him, from head to toe without a single blemish—

then there was only one explanation.

He had taken a bath.

—Then what about Kim Woo-chul?

Jiang Yu held his injured index finger beneath the faucet.

His expression remained grim.

He remembered that when he tentatively entered Kim Woo-chul’s name, he had quickly found multiple deliberately deleted and suppressed negative reports simply by using layered decryption.

At least in the eyes of the public, he was a reviled murderer, a madman tormented by mental illness.

Kim Woo-chul had enlisted in the military at seventeen. He distinguished himself repeatedly during the Sixth and Seventh World United Land Campaigns, becoming nothing less than a war machine.

During the final defensive battle, he was knocked unconscious by a grenade detonating at close range. After waking, his mental condition deteriorated rapidly.

He remained trapped in the war, unable to escape it.

As a result, Kim Woo-chul instinctively harmed anything that approached him—from initial resistance, to violent attacks, and eventually spontaneous murder.

Everything seemed to make perfect sense.

Except for one thing.

During the period when he should have been serving his sentence, who had somehow pulled him out of prison without anyone noticing?

Why had he appeared at the club?

And what exactly was the history between him and Qiu Shihuan?

Jiang Yu covered the wound with a Band-Aid and rested his hands against the edge of the table. He stared at the water accumulating in the bottom of the sink, watching the blood he'd washed off gradually dilute.

With five minutes remaining, his fingers rapidly entered another string of code.

A new message appeared.

[Kim Woo-chul was hired by Ibis Technology six years ago.]

Jiang Yu abruptly pulled the drain plug.

The water surged violently into the drain.