He had guessed correctly.

There was definitely something mixed into the alcohol.

What surprised Jiang Yu, though, was that Bolfa and Bolang had actually joined forces to pull off such a dirty trick.

His blood was boiling now, adrenaline spiking violently; sweat beads were bizarrely pouring from his neck; his legs had gone weak from who-knows-where, and his throat was burning fiercely.

As for drugs with aphrodisiac effects—just the ones legally circulating on the market—Jiang Yu had heard of no fewer than a hundred varieties.

But a drug that takes effect in an extremely short time and triggers such intense physical reactions—

It was probably some kind of illicit substance.

He had no idea where that kid had gotten it from.

Just as they were about to turn the corner toward the stairwell, Qiu Shihuan let go of his arm and only allowed him to follow behind.

Jiang Yu had no choice but to smile wryly. Leaning against the wall, he gazed at the paintings in the corridor while gasping heavily.

He was so uncomfortable that his fingernails were practically digging into the wall, yet all he could do was wait for Qiu Shihuan to open the door.

"You actually dared to take a drink from someone like that? Uncle, are you really tired of living?"

Qiu Shihuan pushed the door open, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"If I hadn't taken it, Bolang would have found some other way to force it down my throat later." Jiang Yu hunched over, afraid that the other might notice anything off. "That guy always makes trouble. I'm sleep-deprived, not sexually frustrated down there…"

"So?—You just can't say no, or you don't know you could have dumped the drink right in his face?"

"If he were the type to let things go, I'd probably let myself do that"

Jiang Yu fumbled for the light switch on the wall. The light stung his eyes, triggering another wave of intense dizziness.

He staggered toward the large bed, muttered something unintelligible, and dove headfirst into the soft bedding.

"Uncle, you reek of alcohol."

Qiu Shihuan pinched his nose and closed the door behind him.

"It doesn't smell that bad to me…"

Soon, the mattress sank in another spot: "That's because you've been drugged. Get up—how can you get on the bed all stinky like that? No wonder your place is such a mess—come on, hurry up and take a shower!"

"I can't take it anymore. It's awful. This stuff—this stuff must have a pretty strong aftereffect." Jiang Yu buried his face in the pillow, breathing raggedly while biting down hard on the pillowcase. "Just let me calm down on my own for a bit, while I can still remember what I'm doing."

Suddenly, there was no response.

"Young master?"

Jiang Yu didn't hear the sound of the door opening, but his body was already so hot that he was writhing under the covers like a worm.

"Go wherever you want, I…"

I can't hold it anymore.

Several veins had popped out on the back of his hand, every finger swollen and aching.

Jiang Yu lifted his shirt, not even bothering to unbuckle his belt. His fingers, as if leading a blaze of fire, traveled down his strong, wheat-colored body, pressing over his taut abdominal muscles, then hurriedly slipped into his jeans.

He let out a slightly satisfied groan.

The places his fingers covered were rubbed by calluses—it felt unbearably good.

But the next second, his wrist was seized.

Jiang Yu suppressed the urge to curse and spoke in a placating tone: "Don't, young master… This is no time for jokes. I'm not joking, really not…"

The fingertips pressing against his wrist were cool and smooth, like butterflies offering themselves willingly, fluttering their bright blue wings within a web of silver threads.

But the butterfly was not the end—or at least not the finale of this sensory feast—something else brushed past his ear.

That something teased every single one of his pores, until molten lava boiled in his veins.

The touch between their skins was undoubtedly throwing oil onto a raging fire, yet he had to risk reaching his hand into that very flame.

Only searing pain, only deep, piercing pain, could temper this unquenchable urge.

But in the next moment, Jiang Yu felt as if he was about to have his throat torn out by a leopard.

That beautiful, willful leopard, always harboring malice, leaped lightly onto the bed and circled its dying prey.

He could even feel the other's gaze boring into his back—his own humiliation; the uncontrollable urges; and his sweat-soaked state, begging for some physical solace.

The leopard carried the scent of soil and blood on its body. He was about to be torn to shreds; he was about to become the victim.

But Jiang Yu was no prey, because that leopard was watching him with extreme wariness.

They were both on guard, watching for the moment when the other might snap at their throat.

"Uncle, you look really miserable. Want me to make something for you?"

"Young master, that's enough. Get out."

He almost said it in a commanding tone.

Jiang Yu gritted his teeth, his back arching in pain, his fists clenched until they turned white.

Slowly propping himself up with his palms, his brown eyes glared at Qiu Shihuan, who was watching with keen interest, and he ground out the order:

"Listen. Don't come near me. Don't make me throw you out myself."

Qiu Shihuan froze—he had never seen Jiang Yu so utterly resistant like this.

"Uncle, I'm getting excited." He bit his lip excitedly and grabbed the other's collar. Their eyes were almost touching, his blue pupils trembling with intense arousal. "Do you want to kiss? I know you can't refuse…"

Qiu Shihuan didn't finish his sentence. His shoulder was seized and he was pushed down onto the bed.

Even the springs beneath them trembled.

"Mmph—!"

A large, pale hand clamped directly over his throat—the fingers weren't squeezing, just seeming to restrain him for the moment.

"Uncle, you think that'll make me behave? How naive."

His struggling lips were firmly sealed by the man's, and his uncooperative teeth left several bloody scrapes on Jiang Yu's tongue.

Qiu Shihuan narrowed his eyes.

He didn't seem to mind the coppery taste spreading through his mouth.

But this retaliatory kiss continued nonetheless. They stared at each other, pupils so close they could almost peer into each other's souls.

Yet what lay in their eyes was different.

Qiu Shihuan saw the growing fury in Jiang Yu's eyes.

In this terrifying war that had evolved from limbs to lips and tongues, Jiang Yu's tongue was nearly bitten through. Blood surged into the other's throat—far more salty and thicker than saliva.

And Jiang Yu saw the satisfaction and contempt hidden deep in Qiu Shihuan's heart.

Even though it was a kiss—something that should have been romantic, a symbol of deep affection—this kiss still represented too many things. Resistance, tearing, persistence, or competition between those at the top.

Qiu Shihuan sucked hard on the other's tongue—the salty tang, the other's slight frown—all of it acted as a catalyst.

His jaw gradually relaxed. He knew that if he didn't let go soon, he might bite through Jiang Yu's lingual frenulum.

Then he'd have no choice but to swallow the entire tongue.

No one knew how long the kiss lasted—both their tongues and mucous membranes were nearly numb.

Only then did Jiang Yu slowly withdraw from Qiu Shihuan's mouth. His tongue was bleeding profusely, and a large piece of skin had been torn from the corner of his mouth.

Qiu Shihuan smiled at him.

The latter silently spat out the blood in his mouth, his expression still displeased.

A crimson thread of saliva stretched between their lips.

"Listen up. Next time—don't tease me anymore, kid." Jiang Yu said, "In other matters, I can give way to you."

Then he rolled off the bed.

At some point, Jiang Yu's consciousness had cleared considerably. His physical state was no longer as agitated as when the drug had first hit.

"Hey, Uncle, you actually got angry." Qiu Shihuan sat up behind him, utterly indifferent to the blood all over his mouth. "What's there to be mad about? Weren't you enjoying it yourself just now? Isn't kissing me exciting? Uncle, that's so mean—are you even listening to me? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take a cold shower." Jiang Yu sighed. "Young master, please give me personal privacy. Given that you've bitten me like this, could you grant me a little private space for now?"

Qiu Shihuan stared at his back, eyes blazing.

"Fine." He relented. "I'll remember this day forever."

Jiang Yu wiped his face in despair.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Soon, the sound of water came from the bathroom.

Qiu Shihuan sat alone by the bedside, sometimes looking at the moonlight outside, sometimes at the hotel room's furnishings.

Neither interested him in the least.

His fingers gently traced his blood-tinged lips. Humming cheerfully, he swung his legs back and forth unconsciously.

When the water in the bathroom stopped, Jiang Yu emerged, towel-drying his hair, wrapped in another towel.

"Uncle, you're done washing up?" Qiu Shihuan immediately jumped off the bed, hands behind his back, looking visibly cheerful. "You even washed your hair? That was fast—is the drug effect over already?"

"That’s thanks to you." Jiang Yu's expression was peculiar as he said this. "So… young master, if there's nothing else, I'm going to turn in. Today's been… pretty exhausting."

Qiu Shihuan, as if deliberately not catching his hint, spoke loudly:

"Mm, I'm going to take a shower. I'll come find you right after, Uncle."

Jiang Yu sighed as Qiu Shihuan smiled and waved goodbye to him. Slipping on some slippers, he skipped into the bathroom.

The door closed behind him, and the gaze that had been stuck on his back vanished.

In an instant—

The smile, the tiny movements around his eyes and facial muscles, all crumbled away.

Expressionless, he walked to the sink.

Then he faced the mirror and curled up the corners of his mouth.

Just as he had rehearsed hundreds of times, thousands of times.

Until fine lines appeared at the corners of his eyes, until the muscles around them contracted correctly.

And it formed a standard, perfect bright smile.

He couldn't help but let out a cold laugh, then punched the bright, smiling face reflected in the mirror.

As if he felt no pain at all.

Qiu Shihuan looked at the mirror shattered from the center, at the blood trickling down bit by bit.

Then he gazed deeply at the countless broken versions of himself.

His chest heaved violently.

He saw a figure.

A figure in a blue-and-white striped top, crying and screaming as he was pinned down on a table.

That person struggled madly against the restraints, until people in white clothes attached electrodes to his temples and chest.

Qiu Shihuan immediately slapped himself.

He lowered his head and stared at his palm, covered in blood and shards of glass.

"Jiang Yu."

Qiu Shihuan leaned toward the shattered mirror and turned on the faucet.

He muttered this name under his breath, his thumb lightly brushing across his blood-red lips.

Finally, he tentatively brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting the salty blood over and over, his pupils contracting slightly.

"Jiang Yu—mmf, you really are… quite different from before, aren't you…"