Hormones That Can't Be Hidden - Chapter 33

The two rounds of internal “testing” concluded as evening approached.

Shortly after dinner, Xu Jun pulled Dong Junhao aside. With a smile that combined commendation with mystery, he gave him a firm pat on the back.

“Junhao, not bad! Supervisor Sun and the girls have been singing your praises high comprehension, willing to endure hardship, and your hands have developed a feel for it very quickly.”

His tone shifted, dropping into a whisper with a touch of suspense. “Therefore, you are officially ready to graduate and join the roster. Furthermore, I’ve already arranged your ‘first guest’ for you, in the grandest ‘Yunding’ suite. The guest is already there; hurry up and get ready, then head over.”

Dong Junhao’s heart gave a leap.

The “Yunding” was the most premium and private suite on the second floor. It was rarely opened, and the service fee there was equivalent to more than half a month’s wages for an ordinary technician.

He subconsciously straightened his crisp, new white technician’s uniform and took a deep breath. “Thank you, Boss. Is there… anything special I should pay attention to regarding the guest?”

Xu Jun’s eyes flickered. He waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing special. Just follow the standard procedure and give it your best state. Oh, right,” he added as if suddenly remembering something, “the guest… might not like to talk much. Observe more, speak less. Go on.”

This vague instruction tightened the string in Dong Junhao’s heart even further.

Carrying the prepared premium essential oils, hot stones, and clean towels, he walked through the quiet corridor and stopped before the heavy, carved wooden door of the “Yunding.”

He took two deep breaths before knocking gently three times and pushing the door open.

The light inside the suite was adjusted to be extremely soft and soothing. An expensive aromatherapy machine silently exhaled calming sandalwood.

A massive massage bed sat in the center of the room. A figure was already lying prone upon it, covered from head to toe by a large white bath towel. Even their hair was wrapped tightly, leaving only a small patch of skin at the nape of the neck exposed.

The guest had a slender build but remained exceptionally still stiff, even in that prone position.

“Good evening, Sir. I am Technician Number 88, Dong Junhao. It is a pleasure to serve you.”

Dong Junhao spoke in a steady, clear tone according to the standard training procedure, bowing slightly as he did so.

The guest beneath the towel offered no response, not even a slight movement. There was only the extremely faint, almost imperceptible rise and fall of their breath.

Recalling Xu Jun’s warning that the guest “did not like to talk,” Dong Junhao asked nothing more.

He skillfully dimmed the auxiliary lights in the corners, leaving only a single light source at the head of the massage bed like a reading lamp to create a more focused and private space.

Then he walked to the bedside and said softly, “Sir, I will begin with a relaxation for your back. If you have any specific requirements regarding pressure or any part of the process, please let me know at any time.”

The guest remained silent, merely extending an arm from beneath the towel to give an “OK” gesture, indicating he could begin.

It seemed this was truly a guest who was either inconvenienced or unwilling to speak.

Dong Junhao collected his thoughts, pushing aside all distractions to focus on the work at hand.

He warmed his hands, poured the high-quality essential oil into his palms and rubbed them evenly. Then, slowly and steadily, he pressed his palms onto the exposed shoulder and back area of the guest.

His first impression upon touch was that the skin was unexpectedly firm and smooth, with muscle lines that were fluid and well-defined—not at all like the guests he usually encountered whose bodies were hollowed out by alcohol, lust, or overwork.

However, as he performed his professional pushing, pressing, kneading, and squeezing, his fingertips quickly captured a hint of discordance beneath this good foundation.

The muscle group at the lower edge of the right scapula was exceptionally rigid, with fine knots buried in the texture that had not been fully dissolved. The erector spinae muscles on both sides of the lumbar spine were also tensed, as if the body were unconsciously protecting an old injury.

Furthermore, the shape of those shoulder blades, the depth of the spinal groove, even the shadows of the mermaid lines on both sides of the lower back disappearing into the towel… they were so familiar!

An absurd and startling thought suddenly pierced Dong Junhao’s mind: Fang Mingxuan?

Impossible! He immediately denied the thought.

Fang Mingxuan should still be in the VIP ward on the top floor of Jinghai Central Hospital undergoing rehabilitative physiotherapy. Why would he come to a place like this, and appear in this manner?

Moreover, why would Xu Jun arrange for him to be his “first guest”?

Yet, the memory transmitted through his fingertips stubbornly overlapped with that fleeting glimpse of the lines of Fang Mingxuan’s back, waist, and hips from the moment he had taken off his bathrobe to step into the bath amidst the mist of the VIP suite that day…

They overlapped perfectly.

Dong Junhao’s heartbeat accelerated uncontrollably.

He forced himself to focus on the movements of his hands, but his physical memory stubbornly resisted his logic. Every press and every stroke seemed to validate that terrifying hypothesis.

The body beneath his hands possessed beautiful muscle texture formed by long-term self-disciplined training, yet it also carried an undetectable sense of vulnerability from unhealed injuries.

When his thumb slid over the other’s shoulder blade, his fingertip clearly felt an extremely subtle, suppressed tremor the body’s most honest reaction, independent of will.

A sharp emotion, a mix of shock and a certain dull ache, seized Dong Junhao’s heart without warning.

If it really is him, his injury… should be right in this spot!

The accident that day… though it wasn’t his intention, he could not escape the blame.

At this moment, this man who was of noble status and should have been focusing on recovery—was lying here in such a hidden, even humble manner. He was trustingly handing over his still-aching body to the hands of his “enemy” and novice technician… Why?

He wanted to keep pretending to be calm, but his mind was in disarray.

He tried to find more evidence, but the guest remained motionless, his face buried deep in the hole at the head of the bed, hidden completely by the edges of the towel and the shadows.

No, I still need to confirm.

Dong Junhao’s mind raced, though his manual movements remained steady and professional.

He pretended to need the hot stones. As he turned to retrieve a small towel placed on the lower shelf of the nearby trolley, he “accidentally” knocked over a small glass bottle of essential oil.

“Apologies, Sir.” He apologized in a low voice and naturally leaned down to pick it up.

The instant he crouched down and his line of sight was parallel to the facial opening of the massage bed, he cast a swift glance inside

There were no eyes, nose, or mouth as he had expected to see.

A pure black, full-face non-woven mask, leaving only holes for breathing, was stuck tightly to that face, blocking out all facial features.

Dong Junhao’s heart sank abruptly, and was immediately shrouded in an even thicker cloud of suspicion.

A black face mask? In an environment that requires relaxation? This isn’t so much skincare as it is… a disguise.

He slowly stood up, picked up the bottle and set it back. His fingers were trembling ever so slightly.

His doubts, far from being cleared, grew like a snowball.

If it really was Fang Mingxuan, why would he do this?

Going to such great lengths, disguising his identity, and coming here just to have him perform a massage?

Was it a prank? Or… did that seemingly non-existent “entanglement” really reach a point where such a circuitous route was necessary?

He truly wanted to tear off that obstructive mask right then and there to ask for the truth.

But what if it wasn’t him?

What if it was just a stranger who happened to have a similar build and the habit of wearing a mask for skincare during a massage?

An impulsive move would not only offend a precious “first guest” and ruin the bathhouse’s reputation, but it might also make him the laughingstock of the industry.

And… Dong Junhao looked at the figure lying there quietly, allowing him to do as he pleased, and a complex emotion welled up in his heart.

If it really was Fang Mingxuan, with his status and position, why would he need to do this?

He could have had ten thousand more direct, more condescending ways to find him.

To lie here in such a state of “accepting grievance to seek perfection,” approaching him like an ordinary guest what exactly was it for?

An indefinable mood entwined around him, a mix of doubt, a strange softening of the heart, and an even deeper unease.

He sighed silently, forcing all the churning questions back into the depths of his heart.

No matter who was underneath, at this moment, he was first and foremost Technician Number 88, Dong Junhao, and he had to finish his job.

He pressed his warm palms back onto the other’s spine. Every subsequent technique was performed with even more care and caution than before.

When touching the areas suspected of unhealed pain, his pressure would unconsciously become the lightest, and his technique adjusted to a softer, penetrative kneading, as if silently smoothing over some guilt he hadn’t even clearly defined himself.

Time flowed amidst the fragrance of essential oils and soothing music.

The 90-minute full-body oil relaxation process finally neared its end.

Dong Junhao carefully wiped away the remaining oil from the guest’s back with a warm towel and recovered him with the bath towel.

The guest still lay motionless, merely extending a hand from beneath the towel to give him a thumbs-up gesture of approval, then pointed toward the table next to them.

On the table, several red banknotes were pressed under a teacup a tip for him.

Clean and decisive, leaving no room for communication.

“Thank you for coming. Please have a good rest.”

Following the rules, Dong Junhao bowed and finished his closing remarks, picked up the tool tray, exited the suite, and gently pulled the door shut.

The heavy wooden door isolated the inside from the out.

Dong Junhao did not leave immediately. He leaned against the cool stone wall outside the door, his chest heaving.

The mysteries and that strange mood were like vines entangling him, making it hard to breathe.

Xu Jun’s secretive attitude, the guest’s bizarre silhouette, the disguise, and that familiarity that made his heart pound along with the subtle feedback of possible pain remaining on his fingertips…

No, I can’t just let it go.

Xu Jun likely wouldn’t reveal the guest’s information, so he would wait here. He had to see this “mystery guest” come out with his own eyes.

The “Yunding” suite had only this one exit. Unless he stayed inside until dawn, he would have to show himself.

Dong Junhao quickly scanned his surroundings.

Not far from the corner of the corridor was a niche for cleaning supplies, which was just enough to hide his figure while allowing him to clearly observe the door of the “Yunding.”

He retreated there soundlessly, held his breath, and hid his body in the shadows, his eyes locked tightly on that carved wooden door.

Minute by minute passed. The only sound in the corridor was the low hum of the central air conditioning.

Every second felt stretched thin.

He could hear his own suppressed heartbeat, thumping against his eardrums like a drum in the silence.

He didn’t know how long had passed perhaps only ten minutes, perhaps half an hour.

Click.

The sound of the door lock turning was extremely faint, yet crystal clear in the silence.

Every muscle in Dong Junhao’s body instantly tensed. His pupils constricted, and he didn’t blink.

That heavy wooden door was slowly pulled open from the inside, leaving a small gap.