Chapter 58 Go to Work

Chapter 58: Get Your Ass to Work

At first, it was just a light touch, like a feather brushing past.

But with that single touch, the sweet taste he'd craved for ten years, yearned for through countless hopeless dreams, never getting no matter how much he tossed and turned, instantly shattered what little resolve he had left.

The idea of just a taste went out the window.

He deepened the kiss.

His tongue cautiously pried open his slightly parted lips, carefully slipping inside, savoring that one-of-a-kind sweetness, mixed with a hint of wine and a crisp, clean taste.

What started as gentle probing slowly turned fiery and intense, carrying ten years of longing, pain, possessiveness, and endless love.

He kissed with total focus, almost drowning in this stolen, long-overdue intimacy.

Until Shen Qingci beneath him let out a faint, annoyed murmur in his sleep.

Lu Lin snapped awake, jerking his head up, panting hard, his eyes bloodshot with lust and lingering obsession.

He watched Shen Qingci frown slightly in his sleep, unconsciously licking his slightly swollen lips—a sight that sent an even fiercer rush of heat straight to his groin.

He knew he couldn't stay.

Lu Lin practically fled, rushing into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

Soon, the bathroom echoed with heavy, rapid, muffled breaths, punctuated by low, hoarse moans thick with lust, and the steady sound of running water.

The noise went on for over an hour before finally dying down.

After a long while, the bathroom door finally opened.

Lu Lin stepped out, now wearing dark silk pajamas, his hair still damp, his face flushed and still damp from the steam.

He looked at Shen Qingci, fast asleep, his eyes still dark, like bottomless ink.

He walked over, gently lifted the blanket, and slipped in, then reached out and pulled Shen Qingci's warm, soft body into his arms, holding him tight.

He buried his face in the crook of Shen Qingci's neck, took a deep breath and let out a contented sigh.

In a voice so low only he could hear, he murmured a few indistinct endearments.

Then, he slowly closed his eyes, a hint of contentment curling at the corners of his mouth, and fell into a deep sleep.

Morning light filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting long, thin patches of light on the floor.

Shen Qingci woke from a hazy hangover, his mind still foggy.

He glanced instinctively at the other side of the bed.

Empty. The sheets were smooth, not a single wrinkle.

He sat up, rubbing his forehead, a dull ache throbbing at his temples.

Memories of last night came in fragments, like an old movie shrouded in fog.

He'd apparently… said some weird things to Lu Lin.

Then Lu Lin dried his hair, and then…

Shen Qingci touched his own lips.

Was that a dream?

Shen Qingci frowned slightly and leaned back against the headboard.

A rare flicker of confusion crossed his cool, composed face.

With his self-discipline and rationality, why would he have a dream like that?

And it felt so real—so real that when he woke up, his lips still seemed to carry a faint warmth and… the clean, crisp scent of Lu Lin.

He shook his head, pushing the absurd thought aside, and picked up his phone from the bedside table.

He quickly texted Lin Wei, asking her to prepare a brief report on the Wang family, especially Wang Chengshun's situation over the past ten years.

After sending the message, he got up, washed up, and put on a dark gray suit, moving with his usual unhurried composure, though his gaze occasionally lingered on the empty bed.

A faint sound came from downstairs.

Shen Qingci came down the stairs with his cane, immediately spotting the busy figure in the open kitchen.

Lu Lin had his back to him, wearing a well-fitted black shirt and tailored dress pants.

Though dressed for a formal occasion, he had a light-colored plaid apron tied around his waist, a stark contrast to his usual vibe.

He was slightly bent over, focused on frying something in the pan, his profile soft and concentrated in the morning light.

Shen Qingci paused at the bottom of the stairs, his lips tightening slightly, his gaze fixed on Lu Lin, his expression complicated.

Uncle Fu came over with freshly brewed pour-over coffee and, seeing Shen Qingci, smiled warmly: "Sir, you're awake. Mr. Lu has been making breakfast since early this morning."

Shen Qingci hummed almost inaudibly, shifting his gaze from Lu Lin and walking to the dining table to sit down.

The rich aroma of coffee filled the air. He picked up the bone china cup, took a small sip, letting the warm, slightly bitter liquid slide down his throat, bringing a hint of clarity.

His phone vibrated.

It was a reply from Lin Wei. The file wasn't long, but the information was staggering.

Shen Qingci lowered his eyes, his fingertips gliding across the screen, reading word by word.

When he reached the part about Wang Chengshun's legs being crippled—reportedly due to a severe conflict where Lu Lin personally broke both legs, followed by six months of confinement, missing the optimal treatment period, resulting in permanent disability—his fingers gripping the coffee cup tightened almost imperceptibly.

The compensation Lu Lin later gave the Wang family was a coveted overseas core project they had long dreamed of but never reached, elevating them to unprecedented heights.

What seemed like compensation and cooperation actually bound the Wang family more deeply to Lu's war chariot, completely seizing their lifeline.

Shen Qingci put down his phone, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the warm cup wall, his gaze once again drifting toward Lu Lin in the kitchen.

Morning light outlined his upright back, and the apron made him look almost domestic and harmless.

It was hard to connect the man cooking for him with the madman from five years ago, who could ruthlessly break a man's legs and then use massive benefits to completely control the other family.

Before Shen Qingci's death, the Lu family, though prominent, still lagged behind the deeply rooted Wang family.

Now, Lu's empire was a behemoth, and even families like the Wangs could only bow to its power, even swallowing the crippling of their heir in exchange for greater gains.

"Brother, awake?" Lu Lin turned around, carrying a tray, a bright smile on his face, interrupting Shen Qingci's thoughts.

He set down a beautifully plated, mouthwatering breakfast in front of Shen Qingci.

He bent down slightly, his eyes holding a cautious hope and eagerness to please: "Try it, do you like it? I specially learned a new sauce."

Shen Qingci picked up the silver knife and fork, cut a small piece of the fried egg, and took a bite.

It tasted great, perfectly cooked.

But after just one bite, he put down the knife and fork.

The smile on Lu Lin's face instantly froze, the light in his eyes fading, and he asked nervously, "Is it no good, brother? Is it too salty? Or is the temperature off?"

Shen Qingci looked up at him, watching his expression shift to one of unease and even panic, and felt a corner of his heart pricked, like by a tiny needle.

Without a word, he picked up the knife and fork again, quietly and slowly finishing the breakfast on his plate.

Then, he set down the utensils, picked up the napkin to wipe the corner of his mouth, and offered a faint evaluation: "It's good."

The gloom in Lu Lin's eyes instantly dissipated, replaced by a brilliant light, his lips uncontrollably curving upward, his whole face lighting up: "Really? Then I'll make you lunch too, brother? What do you want to eat?"

Shen Qingci didn't answer. He picked up the cane leaning against the table and stood up.

Hearing Lu Lin's words, he paused in his steps, turned sideways, and raised the cane, tapping it—not too hard, not too soft—against Lu Lin's calf.

"Aren't you going to the office?" he asked, his tone calm yet carrying a habitual chill.

Lu Lin didn't dodge the tap but instead leaned in with a grin: "The office isn't as important as you, brother. Your leg's been bothering you lately; I want to spend more time with you."

Shen Qingci shot him a glance, cold and frosty, devoid of emotion, yet it made Lu Lin's smile fade a little.

"Get the hell to work." Shen Qingci tossed out these four words, no longer looking at him, and walked steadily toward the door with his cane.

Lu Lin stood there, watching his back until it disappeared through the doorway, then let out a helpless yet fond smile and began untying the apron around his waist.