Jing Ling had been idle in the hospital for a week. Other than the unbearable pain in his throat that made it hard to sleep at night, the doctors found nothing seriously wrong with him.
During his stay, no one came to visit. Jing Ling even started to worry about whether anyone would pay his medical bills. But after spending a few peaceful days in the hospital bed, he decided it wasn’t something he needed to stress over.
Someone from Jing Ling’s company did stop by once, but judging by their attitude, they weren’t likely to spend much on him. The way they talked made the company seem less like an entertainment agency and more like a front for exploiting young dreamers who aspired to stardom. They probably made their money by signing hopefuls, using their connections to network with industry bigwigs, and taking a cut from their earnings.
So, if the company wasn’t footing the bill, and Jing Ling himself didn’t seem to have much money, the only logical explanation was that it must’ve been Yan Yixuan—the man he’d encountered in a haze that day—who had paid for him.
Every time Jing Ling thought about it, he couldn’t help but replay the moment in his mind. Who would’ve thought he’d meet the heir of the Yan family in such a way?
Speaking of the Yan family, they were worlds apart from the Zong family.
The Yan family was said to have a long scholarly lineage. During wartime, the eldest Yan son made a fortune in shipping, marking the family’s first big break. From there, the Yans had remained in business, building wealth that ranked among the nation’s top. But unlike those who got rich quick and cashed out, the Yan family invested heavily in the military during turbulent times, earning respect for their contributions. Over the years, they produced many renowned advocates of democracy and were still known for their philanthropic efforts.
Now, the head of the family, Yan Jisheng, was a legend in his own right, expanding their empire even further. Unfortunately, his two sons had tragic fates. One was said to have been rebellious and extreme, succumbing to illness at an early age. His widow made a dramatic scene at the Yan estate before leaving empty-handed. The other son managed to take over the family business, only to perish in a widely publicized plane crash alongside his wife.
Aside from the grandson taken away by the eldest son’s widow, the second son left behind two heirs: Yan Yixuan and his younger sister, Yan Yueshi.
Yan Jisheng was already advanced in years, and logically, the Yan family’s future should have belonged to Yan Yixuan. But things weren’t so simple.
It turned out that Yan Yixuan’s father had an illegitimate child from his younger years—one who was even older than Yan Yixuan.
Jing Ling couldn’t help but sigh at the troubles that came with large, powerful families. It was nothing like his own father, who had built a business from scratch and had only two sons. Even his father often joked that two kids were already too many.
Perhaps due to the pain of losing both his sons, Yan Jisheng wasn’t willing to give up any trace of his bloodline. Not only did he accept the illegitimate son into the family, but he also involved him in the Yan business.
Rumor had it that Yan Jisheng’s health was failing. Yan Yixuan had taken over the family operations and was widely recognized as the rightful heir. Everyone called him the ‘Young Master Yan.’ But his elder half-brother, Yan Yili, was also active in the business world, while his younger sister, Yan Yueshi, was still too young and remained under Yan Yixuan’s care.
Yan Yixuan had made quite the name for himself in the business scene. Always smiling, polite, and composed, he had the kind of charm that made everyone enjoy dealing with him. In an era where traditional family businesses often struggled to adapt, Yan Yixuan not only carried the weight of his sprawling family but also managed to thrive amidst the challenges.
Jing Ling couldn’t help but admire him for that.
That said, Yan Yixuan had one notable flaw: too many tabloid-worthy scandals.
Jing Ling could understand, though. A businessman couldn’t always be consumed by work; it was natural to seek some warmth and softness in life. Although Yan Yixuan’s colorful escapades often became the talk of the town, Jing Ling reasoned that no one was perfect. A bit of indulgence wasn’t unforgivable, especially since Yan Yixuan wasn’t married, so there was no issue of infidelity.
That was how Zong Bolin used to think, back when he was someone else entirely. But now, as Jing Ling, he couldn’t help but feel a bit conflicted.
Still, he had to admit, if Yan Yixuan weren’t the kind of man prone to such indulgences, he wouldn’t have shown up at the club on a whim that night. And Jing Ling wouldn’t have been rescued, wouldn’t now be lying comfortably in this hospital bed, receiving proper care, with kind nurses checking in on him daily.
Even so, after so many days without a single visitor, Jing Ling figured Yan Yixuan had probably forgotten all about him.
He knew how these stories went. A wealthy benefactor saves some pretty-faced kid on a whim, arranges for their hospital stay, and promptly forgets about them. Weeks later, when the secretary reminds the boss about an outstanding medical bill, the benefactor vaguely recalls, ‘Oh, right, that kid.’ And that’s that.
Jing Ling couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. It was his first laugh since the accident. But just as he stifled it, he noticed something unexpected—expensive leather shoes and a tailored suit standing at the door of his hospital room.
Wait, he actually came?
And not just came—Yan Yixuan strode in with the impeccable grace of a nobleman, carrying a bouquet like a scene from a drama. He had actually shown up at the hospital to visit the ‘pretty-faced kid’ he had saved.
For a moment, Jing Ling didn’t know how to react.
Yan Yixuan, on the other hand, was perfectly at ease. He set the flowers on the bedside table like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Jing Ling stared at him as if he were an alien.
“Your recovery seems to be going well,” Yan Yixuan said warmly, his voice gentle, his smile friendly, as though they were old friends catching up.
Jing Ling couldn’t help but admire his flawless demeanor. This was only their second real meeting, and they hadn’t even spoken during the first. Yet Yan Yixuan acted as if they were longtime lovers.
“Talking is still a bit difficult,” Jing Ling croaked, pointing to his throat. His voice was hoarse and strained, but he managed to respond. Since the man who had paid his hospital bills was taking the trouble to visit, Jing Ling felt it would be rude not to.
By mentioning his difficulty speaking, Jing Ling had hoped to end the conversation early.
But Yan Yixuan surprised him again. Instead of leaving, he sat down right by the bed, leaning in closer. Then, with a gentle motion, he reached out and placed his hand on Jing Ling’s neck. His fingers rested lightly on the back of Jing Ling’s nape, while his thumb brushed softly against the bandages.
For a moment, Jing Ling forgot how to breathe.
Jing Ling felt like he’d been struck by lightning.
Zong Bolin had always had his share of lovers, but he’d never been particularly interested in men. Sure, there had been offers—some bold, others subtle. Even his secretary had fallen for him, but none of it had stirred any genuine response in him.
But now, here he was, having his neck touched in a blatantly suggestive way by another man.
“You look a little pitiful,” Yan Yixuan teased softly, his smile carrying a hint of mischief. The playful remark sent a chill down Jing Ling’s spine, making his skin break out in goosebumps. Instinctively, he leaned back, pulling away from Yan Yixuan’s hand and shifting his posture to put some distance between them.
Yan Yixuan let out a low hum, clearly unbothered by the rejection. “Your name is Jing Ling, right?” he said, his tone almost lazy. “I’ve let you lie here comfortably for days. Don’t you think it’s time to repay the favor?”
Still seated on the edge of the bed, Yan Yixuan loomed over him with an air of casual dominance. Though his face remained warm and inviting, Jing Ling recognized the undertone of command. He’d seen this dynamic play out countless times before.
Unless Yan Yixuan lost interest, he had plenty of ways to get what he wanted.
Jing Ling couldn’t decide whether to laugh or feel angry. He was used to being the one in control, coaxing and toying with others. Now that the roles were reversed, it left him feeling awkward, even a little humiliated.
He chose to stay silent, though his expression spoke volumes. Yan Yixuan softened his tone, his voice dripping with feigned patience. “I’ve been out of town the past few days, couldn’t find time to visit you. But you’re looking much better now. Once you’re discharged, I’ll take you out for some fun.”
Jing Ling couldn’t help but twitch the corner of his mouth at that. Wasn’t he older than Yan Yixuan? Who was taking who out for fun here?
Yan Yixuan continued as if he didn’t notice Jing Ling’s reaction. “Attending a funeral can be pretty exhausting.”
The words hit Jing Ling like a bolt of lightning. He stared at Yan Yixuan, his voice low but urgent. “Funeral?”
“Mm-hmm.” Yan Yixuan leaned back against the headboard, his shoulder brushing Jing Ling’s as he made himself comfortable. His tone was casual, almost intimate. “Haven’t you seen the news? Zong Bolin from the Zong family died in a car accident.”
Jing Ling froze. Yan Yixuan reached out to touch him again, but this time, Jing Ling didn’t even react. His mind was elsewhere, caught in a loop.
Funeral. Zong Bolin’s funeral.
Hearing it spoken aloud was a far greater shock than Jing Ling had anticipated. The weight of it pressed down on him, a mix of pain and disorientation that he couldn’t shake.
Yan Yixuan, oblivious to Jing Ling’s turmoil, chuckled as if amused by his silence. Leaning closer, he stole a quick kiss, planting it squarely on Jing Ling’s lips.
That abrupt action yanked Jing Ling out of his spiraling thoughts, leaving him stunned all over again.
It was as if lightning had struck him a second time.
Yan Yixuan’s smile was as gentle as a spring breeze, but Jing Ling wasn’t in the mood to admire it. All he felt was a wave of disgust, so strong that he wanted to leap out of bed and scrub his mouth clean.
Yan Yixuan chuckled, a teasing glint in his eye. “Who told you to care so much about other men? Your patron is right here in front of you, but your mind is elsewhere. Aren’t you afraid I’ll get angry?”
The look of disgust on Jing Ling’s face seemed to amuse him even more. Yan Yixuan laughed out loud, his smile almost dazzling. “I have to say, hospital gowns and bandages are surprisingly… provocative.”
Finally, Jing Ling couldn’t hold back. “You’re sick in the head!” he spat, his voice laced with fury.
Yan Yixuan merely laughed again, his charm almost maddening. It wasn’t hard to see why so many people wanted to be his lover—his easy, playful demeanor could make anyone’s heart race. But the more he acted like this, the more humiliated Jing Ling felt.
To Yan Yixuan, Zong Bolin’s death was a distant event, the tragedy of a man he barely knew. Even if there was a sliver of regret in his heart, it couldn’t compete with the delight he found in teasing Jing Ling.
Jing Ling’s expression darkened further, but Yan Yixuan seemed unfazed. With a low hum, he suddenly grabbed Jing Ling by the shoulders and pushed him back onto the bed. Leaning over him completely, Yan Yixuan covered him with his weight and crashed down with a storm of violent kisses.
Pinned beneath him, Jing Ling’s frail body was no match for Yan Yixuan’s strength. He struggled, but it was futile—he couldn’t budge him an inch.
Desperately, Jing Ling clamped his mouth shut, trying to resist, but Yan Yixuan was a seasoned predator. With a few playful nips at Jing Ling’s lips, he forced his way in, his tongue sweeping through with brutal dominance.
The room filled with the sound of ragged breaths, heavy and suffocating.
When Yan Yixuan finally had his fill, he pulled back, leaving Jing Ling gasping for air. His throat burned with pain, his body trembling from the combined shock and exertion. His hands clutched at his injured neck, his eyes red-rimmed with pain and humiliation.
Yan Yixuan, on the other hand, looked utterly composed. He stood back, watching Jing Ling curl up on the bed like a wounded animal, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was even a hint of satisfaction in his expression.
This man is a monster.
Zong Bolin had always been the one in control, bending others to his will. Never in his life had he been treated like this. Yet now, as Jing Ling, he had been utterly overpowered and humiliated by Yan Yixuan.
It was a cruel reminder of his new reality—a harsh lesson from this man who had given him his second life.
“I’ll come pick you up when you’re ready to be discharged,” Yan Yixuan said casually, as though nothing had happened. Without waiting for a response, he turned and strolled out of the room, clearly in high spirits.
Jing Ling’s chest heaved with barely contained anger. His eyes followed Yan Yixuan to the door, watching as he shut the door behind him.
At least call the doctor before you go, you bastard.
TL: New chapters will be posted every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday!
Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters. (๑>ᴗ<๑)
Lmao, I look forward to thier dynamic 👀
Hmm?