Chapter 2

Voices came from outside. Qi Liang quickly pressed himself against the door to listen.

He heard Yan Bozong cough lightly before asking, "Aunt Chun, who's the person in the second room?"

"That's…" Aunt Chun hesitated, seemingly unsure how to refer to him. "Mr. Qi, Song Wei's… um…"

"Oh. I saw the light on inside and thought the second brother had returned."

Aunt Chun seemed more cautious, perhaps afraid that he might overhear. Her voice dropped significantly. Qi Liang could only make out a few soft hums of acknowledgment from Yan Bozong before the conversation outside fell silent.

He carefully pushed the door open a crack and peeked outside. The living room was empty.

With a sigh of relief, he returned to his bed and sat down, only to notice the light outside had brightened. Turning his head, he saw that the room across from his had just lit up.

Qi Liang's first act of spying on Yan Bozong wasn't driven by any indecent desires—it was purely curiosity.

The novel described the Yan family's estate as a massive H-shaped mansion, with the living room as the central horizontal section, serving as a shared space. The two wings housed the private quarters. Interestingly, the room Qi Liangqin stayed in was directly opposite Yan Bozong's, separated only by a small garden.

Now, with late spring fading into summer, the nights had grown warmer. Both windows were open, allowing the fragrance of overripe blossoms to mix with the thick, humid night air.

Who knew how many nights Qi Liangqin had spent hungrily watching the room across from his, stealing glances at Yan Bozong's every move? He would even deliberately leave his own curtains open, strutting around in revealing outfits by the window, putting on a show.

Qi Liang was curious—could he really see that clearly?

Pressing his lips together, he hesitantly walked to the window.

And then his eyes widened in shock.

He could see Yan Bozong showering.

The bathroom window wasn't large, and the curtain occasionally fluttered, partially blocking his view. Even so, what little he could see was enough to make his heart race.

Yan Bozong had broad, sturdy shoulders and a strong, expansive back. At 189 cm, he was tall enough that his waist was the lean, elongated type Qi Liang loved most. The novel had described it as a "soul-stirring alpha waist"—narrow hips, taut and upright, exuding a restrained yet explosive sensuality. His thick, muscular thighs radiated power, while his calves were long and straight, their fine black hairs dampened by the water, clinging to his skin.

Right now, the man was facing away from him, so he couldn't see more—but he didn't need to. He already knew exactly what the front looked like. He knew how the muscles on his chest and abdomen would ripple with tension, how his V-line would be sharply defined, and how certain features could make one's heart pound and legs tremble.

He watched as Yan Bozong ran his hands through his hair, working up a lather, the foam trickling down the curves of his muscles, emphasizing their strength and sculpted beauty.

The truth was, he wasn't seeing everything in perfect detail. But he didn't have to—he had read every chapter of the novel countless times. He knew Yan Bozong's body intimately, even though this was his first time actually seeing it. He could almost trace the contours of his muscles and every strand of body hair from memory.

Yan Bozong wasn't the rugged, brawny type. He had the refined air of a gentleman—aloof, composed, exuding an untouchable elegance. His physique was the perfect balance—slim in clothes, muscular underneath. His aura was one of repressed desire, a mature restraint that only made his presence more intoxicating. Even in a perfectly tailored suit, his raw masculinity was impossible to hide.

And now, this man was standing right in front of him, showering.

Qi Liang felt his mouth go dry, his face burning red. The sheer presence of Yan Bozong was overwhelming, pressing against him even from across the garden.

Flustered, he quickly lowered his head, too ashamed to keep watching.

He was a naturally shy person—so much so that he once believed he had social anxiety.

Despite his deep loneliness and yearning for male affection, he had never overstepped any boundaries.

It was only now that he suddenly realized what he was doing. He quickly pulled back from the window.

But… just looking shouldn't be illegal, right?

In his twenty-eight years of life, aside from his own reflection, he had never seen another man's naked body in reality.

Back in university, the dorms had communal showers. Each time he went in, he was too afraid to look around—rushing in nervously and stumbling out in a daze. He knew he had seen bodies, but he couldn't remember what anyone's actually looked like. He had always been known as someone with bold desires but no courage to act on them. Maybe it was his deep-seated insecurity about his own sexuality—his fear that if he were ever caught sneaking a glance, he would be treated like some kind of monster.

But now… he could freely steal glances at Yan Bozong.

This was Yan Bozong, after all. A peak-specimen straight man, the kind that didn't even exist in real life. To him, Yan Bozong was nothing short of a walking embodiment of raw masculinity.

Suddenly, he understood Qi Liangqin.

This was chapter one of the novel—the very first meeting between Qi Liangqin and Yan Bozong.

That first, mortifying encounter had sent endless ripples through Qi Liangqin's heart. He had fallen for Yan Bozong at first sight—while Yan Bozong hadn't even gotten a good look at his face.

Thinking back, this story had always carried a tinge of sadness from the very beginning—as if proving the old saying: "Those who are detestable must have their own pitiful circumstances."

Qi Liangqin's origins weren't good. He had grown up poor, a street-smart survivor of hardship.

His marriage to Yan Songwei, the second son of the Yan family, was nothing but a contract.

Qi Liangqin and Yan Songwei weren't a couple in the true sense—because Yan Songwei wasn't even into men. He had fallen for a nightclub hostess, but Madam Yan had firmly opposed the relationship.

Being the reckless playboy that he was, Yan Songwei had gone out of his way to provoke his mother—marrying a man just to prove a point.

"See? Compared to this, a nightclub girl isn't so bad, right?"

Madam Yan had been so furious she was hospitalized. The wedding never even took place. Yan Songwei simply brought Qi Liangqin home and left it at that.

Yan Songwei rarely came home, and when he did, Qi Liangqin had to sleep on the floor.

With no formal family recognition and no parental approval, Qi Liangqin was never truly accepted into the Yan household.

But at least… he had money.

And sometimes, money was all he had.

Qi Liangqin loved money—just as he would later love desire.

He was also shrewd, always knowing how to use himself to obtain both.

At twenty, his body still carried the freshness of youth.

Back then, Qi Liangqin was still innocent.

It was only after falling for Yan Bozong, after finding his love unreturned, that he began to lose himself in madness.

He tried to imagine what it would feel like to be someone like that-but he couldn't.

Qi Liangqin was not Qi Liang.

He was youthful, beautiful.

His waist was exceptionally slender, yet not fragile. Instead, it was smooth, supple, and resilient-delicate yet firm, impossible to break. It moved with a life of its own, even more fluidly than a woman's.

And then, there were his hips-

High, round, and impossibly perky.

A true"peach-shaped ass"-just as the novel had described.

It was his greatest asset.

After all, what man wouldn't love a perfectly shaped, perfectly firm ass-gay or straight?

But Qi Liang did not have such a body.

His physique was sensitive, yet unremarkable.

His skin wasn't as smooth, his frame wasn't as slender, and he lacked that serpentine vitality -that lithe, irresistible energy.

He couldn't end up like the novel had written—failing to seduce, only to lose his life instead.

He had to keep his distance from Yan Bozong.

After all, according to the author's design, what is unattainable is always the most desirable.

Just as Wu Song was to Pan Jinlian, Yan Bozong was to Qi Liangqin—something to crave, but never to have.

There would be no future between him and Yan Bozong.

Lying on the soft bed, Qi Liang thought to himself—Yan Bozong, for all his perfection, was poison.

Lethal.

To him, Yan Bozong was nothing more than a living embodiment of desire.

He did not love him—and he was not worth dying for.

But… could anyone truly resist falling in love with such a perfect man after spending too much time around him?

Qi Liang could feel his impulses stirring, and he wanted to crush them before they could take root.

Drowsy with thoughts, he drifted into sleep.

The next morning, he woke to broad daylight—

—and a phone call from Yan Songwei.

A stranger's voice came through the receiver.

"You've rested for a day. That's enough, isn't it? Get back here and take care of the old lady."

According to the novel's plot, his next scene was to visit Yan Laotai in the hospital—only to suffer humiliation.

He had just transmigrated into this world.

He wasn't ready to face the Yan family.

He wanted to stay hidden, take time to figure things out.

Besides—going to see the old lady meant inevitably running into Yan Bozong.

And he wasn't ready for that either.

Not yet.

But Qi Liang's wishful thinking quickly fell apart.

Since he had already become Qi Liangqin, he had no choice but to follow the plot.

A sudden, splitting headache hit him—so intense it felt as if his soul was being wrenched from his body.

The pain was worse than death.

For a moment, he nearly blacked out.

It was then that he realized—he couldn't change the predetermined story.

With no other choice, he gathered his clothes and stepped out the door.

The sky outside was overcast, a mist-like haze looming in the air.

But the courtyard—

A riot of colors, flowers blooming wildly, their fragrance rich and heady, almost intoxicating.

The wind swayed the swing, its old ropes creaking with a soft, rhythmic murmur.

And yet—

His headache was gone.

His heart no longer raced with anxiety.

Instead, his mind felt clear, his breath steady, his entire being refreshed—like he had been reborn.

It confirmed his suspicion.

He was now living within a fixed trajectory.

He could not deviate.

Still—his heart was restless, full of unease.

And maybe… just a little bit excited.

Because according to the script—

He still had a long way to go.

His mission?

To flirt with Yan Bozong.

Day and night.

Shamelessly.

Relentlessly.

And Qi Liangqin's first attempt at seducing Yan Bozong?

It would happen at the upcoming family dinner.