The Wealthy Old Man’s Palm-Sized Pet - Chapter 7

Watching Fu Xingnian kick open the door and take a boy from the private room, followed by his bodyguards getting into a brawl with the people inside everything happened so fast and so suddenly that his friends had no idea what was going on.

They didn’t understand why Fu Xingnian would stick his neck out for a boy. Wasn’t this boy just an ordinary waiter? Everyone knew Fu Xingnian loved to play and always had a variety of people around him, even big stars. But this seemed impossible; Fu Xingnian never developed real feelings for those around him, let alone a stranger. What was so special about this boy? Was it just because he was exceptionally beautiful? They had to admit, he was the best-looking boy they had ever seen.

Standing in the corridor, the friends were unsure whether to enter. One close friend finally knocked on the door. “Old Fu, if you’re busy, should we reschedule the gathering?” There was no response. When he went to knock again, the door opened and Fu Xingnian walked out, followed by the beautiful boy.

The boy was draped in Fu Xingnian’s blazer, which was so large it almost completely covered his upper body.

“I have something to do, I’m leaving first. You guys enjoy yourselves,” Fu Xingnian said. To show his apologies, he announced that all expenses for the day were on him, including the stored wine. Under everyone’s gaze, Song Zhiyuan followed him out.

On the bustling streets, a luxury car moved forward toward an unknown destination. Song Zhiyuan sat wrapped in the oversized suit, smelling a mix of oud, tobacco, and whiskey—the latter being the scent of the spilled alcohol from his own clothes.

Fu Xingnian remained silent, but Song Zhiyuan had already guessed their destination. He stole a glance at the man. Earlier in the room, he had heard Fu Xingnian’s words clearly. Fu Xingnian held a cigarette, the tip glowing in the dim cabin. Seeing the man’s icy demeanor, Song Zhiyuan waited patiently until the cigarette was extinguished. Then, he leaned in and showed his wrist.

“Mr. Fu, you squeezed me very hard just now… it hurts.”

His right wrist bore a ring of purple-red marks. Seeing the bruise, Fu Xingnian’s gaze finally flickered with emotion. He began to gently rub the area. Song Zhiyuan took the opportunity to place his hand fully into the man’s palm. “Mr. Fu, rub it more for me.”

Fu Xingnian didn’t pull away; he truly began to massage the wrist, perhaps out of a sense of guilt. Song Zhiyuan whispered softly, “Mr. Fu, can you carry me off the car later?” His voice was soft and sweet, like a cat showing its soft white belly for pets.

Half an hour later, the car stopped at the city’s most luxurious hotel, where Fu Xingnian kept a permanent SVIP suite. When Chu Wei opened the door, even he showed a rare moment of surprise. Fu Xingnian was strong and tall; he carried Song Zhiyuan as easily as a pillow. Chu Wei had seen Fu Xingnian bring people here before, but Song Zhiyuan was the first to be so intimate. Looking at the boy’s smiling eyes, Chu Wei thought of the phrase “fabled femme fatale.”

In the spacious bathroom, Song Zhiyuan stood under the shower, letting the warm water slide over his body. The steam blurred his exquisite face, which gradually turned a light pink. He closed his eyes and smiled. He had won his bet: Fu Xingnian did care about him.

When he emerged, he was wearing a loose bathrobe. The sexy lines of his collarbones were fully visible, and the belt around his waist was tied loosely, looking as if a light tug would reveal everything. His hair was damp. Fu Xingnian sat on the sofa, his long legs crossed, holding a wine glass against the backdrop of the city’s night view. He watched Song Zhiyuan approach; the white robe made the boy’s skin look as smooth as top-tier silk.

“Mr. Fu,” Song Zhiyuan said, walking to his side. “This robe is a bit large, it keeps slipping.”

Song Zhiyuan’s voice was as beautiful as his face, especially when acting spoiled. Fu Xingnian drained his glass. Song Zhiyuan took the empty glass and poured half a cup for himself. He looked at the man. “Mr. Fu, can I drink?”

The light from the window was hazy, and so was Song Zhiyuan’s smile. As he sipped from the exact spot Fu Xingnian’s lips had touched, Fu Xingnian instinctively loosened his tie. The movement caused Song Zhiyuan’s collar to open even wider, though he seemed not to notice.

When their fingers brushed against the glass, Song Zhiyuan’s skin was hot against the cool crystal. Fu Xingnian downed the rest of the wine in one go.

“Song Zhiyuan, I’ll give you one chance to regret this. If you want to back out, you can leave now.”

Song Zhiyuan stepped forward and slowly began to undo Fu Xingnian’s tie. Then, one by one, he started on the shirt buttons. “Mr. Fu, you must keep your word.” His slender fingers slid down the man’s chest toward his lower abdomen.

Fu Xingnian caught his hand. “From now on, you must listen to me. If you want to stay by my side, you are not allowed to be intimate with anyone else. You are not to question my business. When I call, you must come unconditionally. You’d better be prepared this relationship won’t last forever, and I don’t want any entanglements when it ends.”

“Alright,” Song Zhiyuan replied. “I have no problem with that. I’ll listen to everything. Just please keep your word and resolve all my troubles.”

Song Zhiyuan focused on the “won’t last long” part it was exactly what he wanted. He hoped Fu Xingnian would lose interest in a few days. He answered so readily that Fu Xingnian looked down at him; the belt of the boy’s robe had loosened further, and the collar had fallen open.

With a light tug, the belt fell silently onto the carpet. The white robe slid from his shoulders. Deprived of his covering, Song Zhiyuan’s calm vanished, and his face turned bright red.

“Continue,” Fu Xingnian commanded.

The belt of the man’s trousers was undone. Song Zhiyuan’s fingertips grew increasingly pink. The man watched him intently; the back of the boy’s neck was just as mesmerizing. Song Zhiyuan’s eyes watered and he coughed twice, choked by his own nervousness and the unfamiliarity of the task. He felt dizzy, even though he could breathe perfectly well.

Fu Xingnian occasionally frowned, but the boy’s green, unpracticed movements only stimulated his nerves further. He picked Song Zhiyuan up and placed him on the soft bed.

“Song Zhiyuan, once we start, the end is for me to decide. Only me. You must listen to me…”

The floor-to-ceiling window reflected the shadows of the two people on the bed…

When Song Zhiyuan woke the next day, he was alone. He didn’t know when Fu Xingnian had left. It was already past noon. He drank a whole bottle of mineral water to soothe his parched throat, feeling as if he had finally come back to life.

His body was incredibly sore. Last night, he thought he might actually die in that bed. He hadn’t expected Fu Xingnian to be so… vigorous. He had barely slept, and in the end, he didn’t know if he had fallen asleep or fainted.

He lay in bed for a long time before struggling to stand. His legs shook, and he felt a sharp pain. In the bathroom mirror, his fair skin was covered in bruises and bite marks. Shivering at the memory, he washed up and found a set of new clothes on a chair.

As he dressed, he noticed the trash can. It was mostly empty, except for five used “umbrellas.” Five. No wonder he felt like this. His legs trembling, Song Zhiyuan finally called a taxi to take him home.