RKNDL chapter 10

Li Qing—neurotic, sick.

Xie Zhinan quickly defined him in his mind, frowning. His actions were quicker than his thoughts, almost instinctively replying.

[Xie Zhinan]: He’s not the same as you.

After replying, he opened Li Qing’s contact page, blacklisted him, and deleted everything in one go. Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he felt a heavy, somewhat heated gaze on him.

Suddenly, Xie Zhinan remembered something. Slowly, he raised his head little by little and looked at Wen Yun beside him.

Wen Yun was resting his chin on his hand, leaning on the desk, his head tilted as he looked at Xie Zhinan. His pitch-black eyes were fixed on him, gaze intense and burning, like he had discovered the fatal weakness of a prey.

Xie Zhinan, who thought he had disguised himself perfectly, had a hole poked in his seemingly flawless facade, and yet he was completely unaware of it.

Wen Yun smiled, a shallow smile, but his mood was clearly very pleased. His brows relaxed, and his cold, perfect face became suddenly vibrant.

“Xie Zhinan,” he said in a low voice, magnetic and pleasant to hear.

The sky had darkened, but the office lights were still off. The dim twilight filtered through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a shadow on the two of them and enveloping them in a quiet, hazy space.

Perhaps because they were too close, and the surroundings were too silent, every sense was amplified in that moment.

Xie Zhinan once again smelled the scent on Wen Yun, a cool woody fragrance, but this cold scent seemed to have been warmed by the atmosphere, becoming somewhat ambiguous.

Everything around him suddenly felt so familiar. Xie Zhinan instantly felt the echoes of countless nights spent together—those hazy, ambiguous nights, with the damp scent enveloping him. Wen Yun would be close, whispering his name in his ear.

This image came so suddenly, without logic, and it made Xie Zhinan’s face flush with intense heat, his skin turning red.

He was afraid that Wen Yun would notice anything, so he quickly lowered his head, letting his longer bangs and hair fall to cover his ears and cheeks, hoping to hide his burning face.

Wen Yun, this time, was patient. He didn’t push the evasive Xie Zhinan; instead, he asked calmly, softly, but with a hint of malice: “How do you know I’m not like him?”

It seemed like Xie Zhinan had managed to keep his thoughts about the mess in his head undetected.

He swallowed the dryness in his throat, mentally scolding himself for his dirty thoughts, and then slowly lifted his eyes, glancing quickly at Wen Yun. He said softly, with a hint of subtle reproach, “…Why are you looking at my messages?”

Wen Yun replied, “Oh, my apologies.”

It was sarcastic.

An apology with no sincerity.

Xie Zhinan had always found it hard to understand Wen Yun’s thoughts, but now, it seemed even more difficult to grasp.

He quietly glanced at Wen Yun, noticing that Wen Yun was staring at him, seemingly waiting for him to say something. But Xie Zhinan wasn’t planning on responding and decided to ignore Wen Yun’s inexplicable mood this time. He turned his head back, resting his hands on the keyboard, saying, “…I need to work now.”

Before he could type a word, he suddenly heard Wen Yun’s cold voice: “Why aren’t you answering my question?”

What question?

Xie Zhinan looked slightly confused, though it was hard to tell if it was genuine confusion or if he was pretending. Wen Yun, dissatisfied, called out again, “Xie Zhinan.”

Xie Zhinan had no choice but to turn back to Wen Yun, looking at him in a daze, saying, “Mr. Wen.”

It was obvious he was pretending.

Xie Zhinan was very good at pretending—pretending to be confused, pretending to be obedient, sometimes even pretending to faint.

Wen Yun coldly stared at him, not saying a word.

The silence stretched on for half a minute, and Xie Zhinan eventually couldn’t stand it anymore. Those lips, softer than clouds, seemed like the hardest shell of a pearl, waiting to be pried open in order to reveal a little truth.

“…He’s just not the same as you. That’s all,” Xie Zhinan said vaguely.

Wen Yun wasn’t satisfied with this vague answer. His words were sharp like a cold blade: “How do you know? Do you think you’re familiar with me?”

Xie Zhinan felt like he was finally starting to understand and quickly shook his head, saying, “Not familiar, not familiar.”

Wen Yun let out a laugh, irritated: “Not familiar?”

Why did it still feel like this answer wasn’t quite right?

Xie Zhinan wracked his brain, thinking hard, and finally seemed to realize what the issue was.

He cautiously and tentatively asked, “Is it because Li Qing… the pervert who just said you were the same as him… did that make you angry?”

Wen Yun smiled, “What do you think?”

Xie Zhinan became more anxious: “Sorry, should I bring him out and scold him again?”

Wen Yun took a deep breath. “Xie Zhinan.”

Xie Zhinan, stunned, said, “Huh?”

Wen Yun said, “If I die one day, it’ll be because you pissed me off.”

Xie Zhinan became even more anxious, thinking that would mean he really deserved to die a thousand deaths.

He stared at Wen Yun’s cold, sharp profile for a long time, then finally softened his tone, apologizing, “I’m sorry, please don’t be angry anymore.”

When Xie Zhinan was being obedient, he was truly obedient. He was like a well-trained little animal, staying close to you, curling up next to you, looking at you with his bright, shining eyes.

He was always restrained, polite, and maintained boundaries with everyone else, but with you, he would show you his softest, fluffiest belly.

It felt like you could do anything excessive to him.

This feeling was… really good.

He was so capable of satisfying someone’s desire for possession and control.

“I’m not joking with you,” Wen Yun suddenly said.

Xie Zhinan froze for a moment. “What?”

“How do you know I’m not the same as him?”

Wen Yun looked at him. By now, the sky had completely darkened. His eyes were hidden in the darkness, making it hard to see them clearly. The only light came from the computer screen, casting a soft blue glow on his chin and illuminating his sharp lips.

Xie Zhinan didn’t feel scared by his question. Instead, he keenly sensed that Wen Yun’s tone was somewhat downcast when he said it, so he leaned forward, widened his eyes, and innocently said, “I just know.”

Wen Yun stared at him for a long time, silent. After a moment, he lowered his eyelashes, collected all his emotions, and said calmly, “…Seems like you really understand me.”

Xie Zhinan leaned forward to continue watching him, but he couldn’t read anything from Wen Yun’s expression. It seemed as though everything that happened earlier was just an illusion.

Wen Yun used the remote to turn on the office lights. The soft white light flooded the large space, and in an instant, all the lingering, oppressive atmosphere disappeared. He noticed Xie Zhinan’s curious movements and asked, “What are you looking at? Did I say something wrong?”

This was not an easy question to answer. Xie Zhinan didn’t respond immediately. After confirming that Wen Yun seemed fine now, he quickly gave a casual smile, the kind that was half-hearted, and, after the smile, he planned to continue his work.

Wen Yun, dissatisfied with his nonchalant response, snorted through his nose, glared at him, and said, “Your phone.”

To send the overtime pay.

Xie Zhinan obediently took out his phone, unlocked it, and opened Alipay to check his bank account number. Just as he was about to report the number, he suddenly heard Wen Yun say, “WeChat transfer.”

Xie Zhinan was a bit confused. “WeChat?”

Wen Yun gave him a sharp look and said, “I’ll transfer the overtime pay from my private account. Is there a problem?”

Xie Zhinan’s eyes widened, and at that moment, he fully realized the truth—this so-called “overtime pay” was nothing more than bait on a hook, a poisoned treat coated in syrup.

He was trapped, with no way out.

Of course, the two of them had previously used WeChat to communicate. After their amicable breakup, Xie Zhinan hadn’t deleted Wen Yun from his contacts.

The problem was that Xie Zhinan had abandoned that WeChat account. He hadn’t deactivated it but hadn’t used it again in years—not even logging in for a quick look.

A wave of guilt washed over him, and cold sweat began to break out.

Tentatively, he tried to test the waters. “Actually… I’m very willing to…” contribute to the company for free.

Wen Yun smiled and interrupted him. “Caring for employees is part of our company culture. Providing overtime pay is necessary, proper, and non-negotiable. Don’t you agree?”

Xie Zhinan ..…

He swallowed hard, thinking he might still have a chance to salvage this by using a payment QR code.

Just as he was about to discreetly pull up his QR code, Wen Yun placed his phone on the desk with a soft click.

The screen was lit, displaying a large WeChat QR code profile.

Xie Zhinan’s eyelids twitched. He stiffly turned his head to look at Wen Yun.

Wen Yun glanced coldly at the service interface on Xie Zhinan’s phone before lifting his gaze to meet his eyes.

That look made it clear: if Xie Zhinan dared to pull out a payment code, he’d be done for.

Xie Zhinan: “…”

Resigned to his fate, Xie Zhinan dejectedly returned to his home screen, opened the add contact menu, and obediently scanned Wen Yun’s WeChat.

Wen Yun’s WeChat was still the same as years ago, even the profile picture remained unchanged—it was his personal account.

Xie Zhinan’s heart suddenly began to race.

[mfn]Author’s Note
Xie Zhinan: I’ve behaved. Please let me go QAQ[/mfn]