Chapter Text
"Dammit, no one’s opening the door."
Wu Suowei stood in the hallway, suitcase in hand, glaring at the sleek, imposing door. What was a regular guy like him doing here, anyway? The man inside this penthouse was about to become his temporary landlord and not just any landlord.
Chi Cheng: second son of the ultra-wealthy Chi Corporation patriarch. Born in France, raised there until fifteen. Top graduate from Tsinghua University. Owner of a sprawling five-bedroom penthouse in Guangdong. Twenty-eight years old, single, and impossibly the youngest recipient of the Mao Dun Literature Prize.
A bestselling novelist whose books flew off shelves.
Wu Suowei hadn’t read a single one. And he wasn’t planning to start now.
Somehow, this overachiever was friends with his older brother, Chengyu. When Suowei mentioned he’d just returned from Tokyo, landed a job in the city, and had nowhere to crash, Chi Cheng had jumped at the chance to host him.
"He said to just come in if he’s not home," Suowei muttered, testing the handle. It turned easily.
The penthouse was silent, bathed in the soft glow of city lights filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. In the living room, a towering stack of manuscripts dominated the coffee table, a note pinned to the top:
Miss Mengyao,
I’ve gone to bed. Please take care of this. Thanks.
– Chi Cheng
Suowei’s gaze drifted to the couch, where a pile of brightly colored paperbacks gleamed under the lamp. So this was the kind of stuff the great Chi Cheng wrote?
He picked up the top one. The title made his eye twitch.
Romance of the Student Senate Room.
"Erotica?" He snorted, flipping it open.
Cheng: "Tell me what you want."
Chengyu: "Just more. More."
Cheng: "Like this?"
Chengyu: "Ahh! Yes, exactly like that."
Pages turned faster.
Chengyu: (A sharp intake of breath) "Your hands are cold."
Cheng: "Are they?" (A slow smile) "Then warm them up with your heat."
More flipping.
Chengyu: "It’s too loud… I can’t keep it quiet."
Cheng: "Then don’t. Let me hear you."
(A climax, taut and trembling into quiet.)
(Foreheads pressed to the glass, breathing fogging the view.)
Chengyu: "The rain hasn’t stopped."
Cheng: (A soft, sated laugh) "Nothing has stopped."
"What the hell..."
Suowei’s blood ran cold. Chengyu? That was his brother’s name.
"Where is this horny bastard?!"
He stormed down the hall, book clutched like evidence, and kicked open the bedroom door.
"Get up, you lying, perverted novelist! This—this is about my brother! What were you thinking? Explain yourself!"
The figure in the bed stirred, then sat up slowly. Chi Cheng’s hair was tousled from sleep, his sharp eyes still heavy-lidded as they fixed on Suowei—and the book in his hand.
"So," Chi Cheng said, voice low and husky. "You saw."
"Don’t even think about seducing him!" Suowei jabbed a finger at him, fury overriding any sense of self-preservation. "He’s naive. Gentle. Don’t you dare take advantage of him!"
In a blur, Chi Cheng was out of bed and across the room. Before Suowei could react, his back hit the wall, the novelist’s taller frame pinning him in place. Shadows swallowed the space between them.
"Who took advantage of whom?" Chi Cheng murmured, leaning in until his breath ghosted Suowei’s ear. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Did he tell you I forced him?"
"N-no," Suowei stammered, his earlier bravado crumbling as a shiver ran through him. "Just… stay away from him. Find someone else. You don’t care who it is, right? As long as it’s a guy?"
Chi Cheng’s expression shifted—something dark and predatory flashing across his face. To him, those words sounded suspiciously like an offer.
He slid one hand to Suowei’s waist, yanking him closer until their bodies pressed flush. The other hand dipped lower, boldly cupping the front of Suowei’s pants.
"I don’t pick just any man," Chi Cheng whispered, lips brushing his ear. "But you’re the one who offered, aren’t you?"
"I didn’t mean - wait, you pervert!"
"Want to scream for help?" Chi Cheng’s voice was teasing silk over steel, his grip firm but controlled. "Go ahead. No one’s here to hear you."
"Ahh—"
"Stop it, you bastard!"
Suowei’s protests melted into flustered gasps as Chi Cheng’s touch turned deliberate—teasing, exploring, stoking heat Suowei desperately didn’t want to acknowledge. But just as quickly, Chi Cheng pulled back, releasing him with a low chuckle.
"You’re pretty cute when you’re flustered," he said, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Fine. I won’t touch you again."
Suowei slid down the wall, legs unsteady, face burning crimson.
This was Day 1 living with Chi Cheng.