Chapter 43

Chapter 43

The System: "Host, if you keep playing like this, the world will collapse. Don’t forget, Shen Mo still needs to go back and compete for the family inheritance with Fu Xiaoen."

Jiang Yao turned on the bathroom light, pulled a tissue, and wiped his face in the mirror. "I haven’t forgotten."

The System worriedly asked, "Has Shen Mo fallen in love with you?"

Jiang Yao twisted the faucet to wash his hands, his hands already aching from exhaustion. That man was too much—insisting on holding out for a full hour right in front of him.

Forget the duration, Shen Mo’s sheer size was overwhelming. One hand could barely manage, and after all that exertion...

Jiang Yao rinsed his hands under cold water. The tendons near his palms still ached, twitching slightly. He stared at them for a while, unable to erase the image of Shen Mo lost in desire from his mind.

When he looked up again, his neck and body were covered in red marks—left by Shen Mo’s mouth. His waist even bore the faint bruises of fingers that had lost control.

His usual composure was gone, replaced by a flushed, slick heat. His entire body bore the undeniable marks of indulgence.

Truly... absolutely shameless.

The System: "Host?"

Jiang Yao hummed in response. After washing his hands, he found Shen Mo already asleep on the sofa. Jiang Yao downed three glasses of water, drinking them all to replenish what Shen Mo had drained from him.

He kicked Shen Mo, rolling him from his stomach onto his back. Shen Mo’s shirt was still on, but his pants were nowhere to be seen, leaving him disheveled. The lower half was swollen and bruised, nearly too brutal to look at.

Even with himself, he was this rough.

So, the last injury had unlocked something in him.

Jiang Yao chuckled, picking up Shen Mo’s discarded pants from the floor. A shake sent the man’s wallet tumbling out. Shen Mo didn’t carry cash—just IDs and two cards.

The System: "Seems like there’s nothing you can take."

Jiang Yao picked up the two cards, examining them. Both were black cards. So what if he took one? He rummaged through the wallet messily, took one of the black cards, and dropped the wallet onto Shen Mo.

The System: "Aren’t you going to help him clean up?"

Jiang Yao: "Sleep."

The System: "Oh... Poor tycoon, treated like this."

Jiang Yao scoffed.

Shen Mo was woken abruptly by his phone ringing. For a moment, he didn’t recognize where he was—an unfamiliar ceiling above him. The next second, his eyes widened in realization.

He sat up abruptly, scanning the room, reconstructing his memories. This was Jiang Yao’s place. Shen Mo exhaled in relief.

Grabbing his phone, he was shocked to see it was already 8 a.m.

For nearly a decade, he had woken up at 6 a.m. daily, sometimes needing only two or three hours of sleep. His doctor had called his insomnia severe, yet here he was, sleeping until 8 a.m.?

Frowning, his gaze landed on a set of fresh clothes in the corner of the sofa—prepared by Jiang Yao. Shen Mo’s lips quirked unconsciously.

It wasn’t until he showered that Shen Mo noticed the swelling and bruising below. He froze for a long moment. The hot water cascaded over him, bringing a faint sting.

That sting dragged him back to last night—the same sensation, a throbbing ache that left him breathlessly alive.

It was the feeling Jiang Yao had given him. Now, the pain flared again, as if... he was still receiving Jiang Yao’s touch.

Shen Mo raised his hand, wiping the hot water dripping down his face with his palm, then exhaled sharply before switching the water from hot to cold.

His phone buzzed.

Shen Mo stepped out of the shower, naked, to check the messages.

All of them were billing notifications.

From one of his cards.

Shen Mo smiled to himself. He was genuinely pleased and began imagining how Jiang Yao must have looked while using his card freely—happy? Delighted?

Fine. If money alone could keep Jiang Yao by his side, he was willing. Even if it cost him more, it didn’t matter.

Late March.

The rainy season had passed, and the Mediterranean was once again bathed in scorching summer heat. Tourists flooded into the country of G, and the city lights blazed all night. Jiang Yao took a moment to relax in the backyard pavilion, opening his laptop.

Jerry suddenly ran up, trying to startle him!

Jerry yelled, "Butler Jiang!"

Jiang Yao gave a soft hum. "What is it, Master Jerry?"

Jerry asked, "What have you been busy with lately?"

Jiang Yao replied curiously, "Just the usual estate work. Why do you ask, Master Jerry?"

Jerry studied Jiang Yao, then pointed at the hem of his shirt. "Mommy told me yesterday that your shirt’s shine is really nice, like it's mixed with diamond powder."

Diamond powder—finely ground diamonds—was blended into feather silk through a special process, then handcrafted into the shirt Jiang Yao was wearing.

Jiang Yao smiled to himself. Auntie Zhou wasn’t wrong. This was a shirt airlifted from Germany a few days ago, custom-made for him by Shen Mo.

It was a little surprise.

Jiang Yao liked it a lot. As a reward, he even let Shen Mo sleep at the foot of his bed for two nights. According to Shen Mo, sleeping near him was calming.

Apparently, the trope in novels where a domineering CEO sleeps with the woman he loves to cure insomnia wasn’t entirely baseless after all.

Jiang Yao grinned.

Suddenly, Jerry leaned in close. Jiang Yao leaned back, avoiding Jerry.

Jerry narrowed his eyes. "Butler Jiang, are you in love?"

Jiang Yao raised a brow, closing his laptop to face Jerry properly. "Why do you say that?"

Jerry hesitated. "That smile you just had—it looked really sweet."

Jiang Yao chuckled. He’d become much gentler lately, his smiles more genuine. But that was only because, in just about two weeks, Shen Mo had splurged over ten million on him.

Just smugness and contentment fueled by money.

"I don’t believe in love," Jiang Yao said.

Jerry sighed. "When do you think Miss Aili will marry Uncle?"

Jiang Yao thought for a moment. "I’m not sure. Maybe never."

"That won't do!" said Jerry. "If they don't get married, then I—"

"Then what?" Jiang Yao shot back.

Jerry fell silent, his smile vanished, replaced by worry as if struck by some thought.

"Young Master Jerry, you're only seventeen. Why so gloomy?" Jiang Yao turned his laptop back on, which caught Jerry's eye. After a moment, his eyes widened in shock.

Jerry: "Jiang Yao! You're gambling!"

Jiang Yao chuckled softly: "Yes, a nasty habit I've developed these past two months."

"N-no... is it because of me? That time at the casino?" Jerry hesitated.

Jiang Yao took a sip of black coffee, the bitter coffee burning his throat. "Could be, Young Master Jerry. I've already lost millions. What should I do?"

Jerry: "Like, a Ferrari?"

"Yes, a Ferrari's worth," Jiang Yao said with a laugh.

Jerry: "..."

Jerry ran off without another word.

Jiang Yao checked his phone. With less than a month until the F1 race, the championship standings were set. Victor had contacted him earlier, hoping he could pick him up at the dock later.

In the remaining weeks, top racers from across the nation would gather in the country of G for a final pre-race training and strategy session—the country would be in celebration.

After replying to Victor, Jiang Yao was about to shut his laptop and head to the dock when a news alert popped up.

A South African oil project had suffered a major leak, causing significant damage.

Jiang Yao narrowed his eyes. While business news rarely went viral like celebrity gossip, this blew up online within half an hour. More surprising was the company behind the project—Shen Mo's corporation.

Pulling the laptop closer, Jiang Yao frowned at the report. Estimated losses from the leak had already reached up to billions of dollars.

System: "What's wrong?"

Jiang Yao: "That 'world collapse' you mentioned earlier..."

His phone rang—Shen Mo calling. Jiang Yao answered immediately. The man's voice was steady: "A subsidiary had an issue. I need to fly there and won't be home for a couple of days."

Jiang Yao grunted in response.

Shen Mo continued, hesitantly: "Could you..."

Jiang Yao: "Speak."

Shen Mo's perfectly rough voice was deeply sensual: "Give me one of your shirts. To take on the plane."

"Hmm," Jiang Yao teased, amusement coloring his tone.

Shen Mo whispered, "I'm begging you." The words were hushed, as if afraid of being heard.

Jiang Yao leaned back casually and suddenly asked: "Shen Mo, do you love me?"

A pause on the other end: "Why ask that?"

Jiang Yao: "Just wondered."

"Love?" Shen Mo said. "Or that I need you—which one do you want me to say?"

Jiang Yao's voice was calm, satisfied: "Either works for me."

"Then you?" Shen Mo countered.

Over the phone, urgent voices called for Shen Mo in the background. He pressed: "Then you? Butler Jiang, could you... ever love this unworthy one?"

Jiang Yao: "I'll have the shirt cleaned and sent to your arrival airport in South Africa."

A long silence followed, the silence stretched unbearably even through the phone. "Why won't you answer me?"

Jiang Yao: "I love your money."

Shen Mo's face turned stormy. He forced out the lie between clenched teeth: "That's enough."

But inwardly, he knew it wasn't. Not nearly.

If money could chain Butler Jiang to his side, then love—love would imprison his soul!

Your body, your soul—all should belong to me!

Shen Mo's eyes glowed with madness at Jiang Yao's image on his screen.

"Sir!" Secretary Song hurried over. "The jet's waiting on the tarmac. They're waiting in South Africa—they asked if we could arrange a conference call first."

Shen Mo's glare was so fierce Secretary Song recoiled. "O-of course, if you'd prefer to rest, I'll decline immediately!"

Tossing his suit jacket at Secretary Song, Shen Mo snapped: "Board the plane. Prepare the meeting."

Jiang Yao stared at his phone until another breaking news alert appeared: the oil was still leaking, the situation dire. Workers could only evacuate bystanders to prevent potential fires.

Amid fleeing workers, an on-scene reporter shouted into the camera: "...Experts warn unchecked leakage could cost Shen Corporation tens of billions! Locals are being urgently evacuated—hoping to avoid casualties!"

Jiang Yao rested his chin in his hand: "It's begun."

System sighed: "...If you keep this up with Shen Mo, the first thing he'll lose is his billionaire status. Command says agents need clean exits—no exposing the organization."

His phone buzzed.

Victor: "Rabbit Butler, We're docking soon! Are you here? My teammates are eager to meet you—your fame has spread overseas! How'd you manage that?!"

Jiang Yao opened his calendar: "Perhaps the F1 finals will be my ideal exit point."

Countdown: 25 days.