What Bad Intentions Could a Spoiled Little Brat Possibly have? - Chapter 21.1

“Want a hug?”

Hearing these words, Lin Yarou’s expression stiffened for a momentary, almost imperceptible second. However, years of upbringing allowed her to quickly recover a dignified smile. She turned to look at Fu Zheng, her gaze holding a perfectly measured blend of inquiry and expectation.

The air seemed to freeze at that moment, as an invisible tension stretched between the three of them.

Fu Zheng’s eyes darkened. He cast his gaze down, sweeping over Cheng Huai’s flushed profile, and said to Lin Yarou, “I’m sorry, let’s make it another day.”

He took hold of Cheng Huai’s hand in a reverse grip, leading him toward the office desk. He pressed the intercom for his secretary: “Secretary Zhou, arrange lunch for Ms. Lin.”

“No need to trouble yourself,” Lin Yarou interrupted opportunely, the elegant curve of her lips remaining unchanged. “Since President Fu has other arrangements, I won’t disturb you further.”

Fu Zheng spoke into the receiver in a cool tone: “Forget it, then.”

Lin Yarou looked at the car keys in his hand, her smile undiminished. “I happen to be headed down as well. Shall we go together?”

Fu Zheng picked up his coat draped over the sofa, his other hand never letting go of the person beside him. As the three walked out of the CEO’s office side-by-side, Zhou Yuan stepped forward quickly and whispered, “President Fu, the documents that need urgent signing have been placed in the car.”

The elevator descended in silence. After the undercurrents of the previous confrontation, Lin Yarou wisely maintained her silence.

Cheng Huai pressed close to Fu Zheng’s side. The familiar scent of cologne lingered in his nose in wisps, making him feel dizzy and lightheaded. His cheeks flushed uncontrollably, and his legs felt weak in waves. The fingers held in Fu Zheng’s palm were already slick with a thin layer of sweat.

To alleviate the surging restlessness within his body, he quietly tilted his body, leaning most of his weight against Fu Zheng’s side, rubbing his forehead lightly against the other man’s shoulder.

Fu Zheng glanced down at him, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

When the elevator reached the underground parking garage, Lin Yarou walked toward a striking flame-red supercar, parting ways with the other two.

In the supercar’s rearview mirror, the other two were a step behind. Fu Zheng was rounding his arm around Cheng Huai’s waist, whispering in his ear. The posture of that habitually cold man bowing his head slightly was a tenderness he had never revealed to outsiders.

Lin Yarou’s expression gradually became a bit peculiar. Finally, she briskly stepped on the accelerator and vanished in a cloud of dust.

“What’s wrong?” Noticing the person in his arms was limp and constantly sliding down, Fu Zheng used his strength to pull him upward.

“Mm… legs are weak…” Cheng Huai looked up, his eyes shrouded in mist and shimmering with a blurred light.

Uncle Wang was already waiting by the car. Fu Zheng draped his coat over Cheng Huai, half-supporting and half-carrying him into the back seat.

“President Fu, the documents Secretary Zhou mentioned.” Uncle Wang handed over a stack of files from the passenger seat.

Fu Zheng took the documents and set them aside on the telescopic workstation unfolded in front of him.

Uncle Wang asked respectfully, “President Fu, where are we heading now?”

Fu Zheng tested the temperature of Cheng Huai’s forehead with the back of his hand. Then, he picked up the urgent documents and, without looking up, said, “Guange Academy.”

The car smoothly exited the basement and merged into the ceaseless flow of traffic.

Cheng Huai, feeling dazed, patted his cheeks in an attempt to clear his head. He suddenly widened his eyes and looked at the driver’s seat, realizing belatedly: “Uncle Wang, so you actually can talk?”

Uncle Wang cast a paternal look through the rearview mirror and mimicked Cheng Huai’s tone with a smile: “Yes, I can talk. It was my fault last time; I should have said a few more words so you wouldn’t misunderstand.”

Cheng Huai blinked his moist eyes and said seriously, “That’s good! Secretary Zhou said you were still single. I had never heard you speak, so I thought it was because you couldn’t talk that you couldn’t find a partner. But don’t worry, a good destiny is worth the wait!”

Fu Zheng looked up from the documents. “Single?”

Uncle Wang made an emergency save: “Yes, yes, a man in his middle age is like a flower!”

Fu Zheng caught a glimpse of the monitoring bracelet worn securely on Cheng Huai’s wrist and immediately guessed this was one of Zhou Yuan’s bad ideas. He leaned back into the leather seat, the corners of his mouth twitching into a rare smile.

The drive from the company to Guange Academy was about half an hour, but they happened to hit the midday rush hour. The continuous stream of cars was like a river of steel converging toward the Fourth Ring Road; their car was trapped in the congested traffic, barely moving.

Fu Zheng focused on processing the documents, while Cheng Huai nestled quietly to the side, scrolling through his phone.

In the dormitory group chat, Gu Siming’s messages were frantically flooding the screen, and two photos leaped into view.

The photos showed two people soaked to the bone like drowned rats, their faces somehow blackened and filthy.

Gu Siming sent a long string of red exclamation marks: Evil is rewarded with evil! Huai-bao, someone stood up for you!

The people in the photos were famous underachievers in the academy. Skipping class, alcoholism, and staying out all night were routine for them; even their dormitory hygiene was a mess. During military training, they had received disciplinary action for repeated unexcused absences.

Leng Muyu had once commented sharply in the dorm: “Those two are simply the disgrace of our academy.” At that time, the other three rarely didn’t contradict him, thinking to themselves that Leng Muyu had finally said something human.

It was one thing to be degenerate themselves, but much of the targeting Cheng Huai suffered had been instigated by these two. Seeing them in such a pathetic state now, Cheng Huai didn’t feel anything special. He didn’t tell Gu Siming that the person who “stood up for Huai-bao” was actually Huai-bao himself.

Moreover, it wasn’t entirely just to vent his own anger. Cheng Huai replied with an emoji in the group and couldn’t help but turn his head to look at the person beside him.

Fu Zheng was reviewing documents at a rapid pace, occasionally making annotations with a pen. When he encountered details that needed confirmation, he called Zhou Yuan directly. Very quickly, the documents on the workstation were cleared away.

The midday sun passed through the car window, illuminating Fu Zheng’s profile. His high nose bridge cast a sharp silhouette, and a focused concentration gathered between his slightly furrowed brows. His Adam’s apple bobbed gently with the action of turning pages… every detail was like a meticulously blended catalyst, the most potent aphrodisiac that could set Cheng Huai’s entire body on fire.

As Cheng Huai watched, his mind began to wander. The “adult films” he had watched before now played out in his mind with full imagery, except the faces in those scenes were now automatically replaced by himself and his brother.

The blood in his body surged at high speed, racing through his veins. His heart beat so fast it felt frantic. He unconsciously bit his lower lip, his gaze becoming increasingly burning.

I want to touch him…

Cheng Huai’s fingers instinctively gripped the hem of his clothes. His legs curled slightly, and his breath carried a scorching temperature.

Fu Zheng’s finishing work was soon completed. He tossed the documents back to the passenger seat, pressed his finger against the space between his eyebrows, and suddenly turned to look at Cheng Huai, asking bluntly: “Want a hug?”

Caught off guard by Fu Zheng’s sudden turn, Cheng Huai didn’t have time to hide the surging desire in his eyes. He bit his lower lip lightly, his dark eyes shimmering with moisture as emotions churned within. His most secret delusion had been exposed.

His brother was beckoning to him.

All his love, dependence, and even his life and death were firmly tied to Fu Zheng’s hands. As long as his brother was willing to give, he was willing to sink; if his brother wanted him destroyed, he would go without hesitation.

The tide of memory surged up again. This time, Cheng Huai changed his approach. He whispered tentatively, “Can I?”

But they were in the car now. Cheng Huai felt a bit embarrassed and glanced awkwardly at the back of Uncle Wang in the driver’s seat.

The air in the car suddenly became suggestive. Uncle Wang’s back began to stiffen; he focused all his attention on the steering wheel, not daring to glance at the rearview mirror even once.

Cheng Huai waited for Fu Zheng’s answer, his palms sweaty. His innocent and pitiful gaze lingered on Fu Zheng; almost no one could refuse him when he looked like that.

Fu Zheng heard a strange voice take over for his reason and give the answer: “You can.”

Then, his fingers uncontrollably pressed the button beside him. A black partition rose between the front and back seats, dividing the cabin into two private spaces.

Cheng Huai stared blankly at the partition. The previous bashfulness was instantly swallowed by overwhelming emotion. His nose tingled; the longing and grievances accumulated over these days finally broke through the dam.

He grabbed Fu Zheng’s arm, straddled over without hesitation, and wrapped his arms tightly around the other’s neck. He buried his face deep into that familiar crook of the neck, greedily breathing in the scent that made him feel safe.

Cheng Huai’s eyes reddened quickly, as if he wanted to express all his grievances. He rubbed restlessly against Fu Zheng’s neck, acting as if he wanted to compensate for all the intimacy missed during these days.

Fu Zheng hadn’t expected Cheng Huai’s movements to be so decisive. Before he could even ask how he wanted to be held, a furry head had already burrowed into his embrace.

He could only reach out to cup the back of Cheng Huai’s neck, his palm sliding slowly down the spine, pressing gently on those slightly trembling shoulder blades.

Fu Zheng’s breath was inches away, and his warm body heat was transmitted through the thin fabric. Cheng Huai almost unconsciously reached out to touch the other’s chest, wandering over the firm muscles like a child tirelessly exploring a new world.

After an unknown amount of time, Fu Zheng finally caught the hand that was becoming more and more restless even moving downward and asked in a hoarse voice, “Have you touched enough?”

Cheng Huai gave a soft hum, instead burrowing deeper into Fu Zheng’s arms.

“Brother, I’m sorry,” Cheng Huai spoke in a muffled voice, absorbing Fu Zheng’s scent.

Through these several quarrels, Cheng Huai had gradually learned Fu Zheng’s boundaries. Before, he always felt that Fu Zheng would spoil and indulge him unconditionally, satisfying all his requests. But he had forgotten one thing: there was a four-year gap between them, and Fu Zheng had many changes he didn’t understand.

Perhaps, only by strictly adhering to the duty of a brother could he continue to stay by Fu Zheng’s side.

Otherwise, it would be like the previous few times, causing their relationship to fall into a deadlock again.

He didn’t want to experience that coldness again. Although he could feel that Fu Zheng’s attitude had softened since returning from this business trip, he couldn’t say exactly what was different.

Since his brother wanted to return to a sibling relationship, then he would do what a younger brother should do.

Fu Zheng was stunned, then understood where this seemingly random apology came from. He sighed in his heart; making Cheng Huai apologize was not his intention.

“You don’t need to say sorry.” Fu Zheng rubbed the soft hair on top of Cheng Huai’s head.

Since they were young, he had always told Cheng Huai that no matter what he wanted, he would provide it. He was the one who personally spoiled Cheng Huai into the person he was now.

If anyone had to apologize, it should be him.

“Brother…” Cheng Huai called out softly again.

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember the first time you were ever mean to me? What was it about?”

“Why ask this suddenly?”

Cheng Huai said gloomily: “No reason, just feeling like… you haven’t truly lost your temper with me in a long time, but also… like you’re always angry with me.”

Fu Zheng, of course, remembered.

It was Halloween during Cheng Huai’s third year of middle school. It was late autumn, and the phoenix tree leaves outside the window covered the ground in golden yellow.

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