Chapter 91: There’s a Disobedient Little Kid at Home

Chapter 91: A Disobedient Little Steward at Home

Fu Zhichen had always known that Song Jiang’s skin was fair, but now that the man was lying beneath him on the dark-colored bedsheets, the contrast was even more striking.

He watched as Song Jiang’s long lashes trembled—maybe out of nervousness. The young steward gently bit his lower lip, and his cheeks turned visibly crimson.

What would it be like if he actually did something, and the little steward begged for mercy beneath him? Would he cry out his name and call him a beast with tears streaming down his face?

Fu Zhichen thought about it for a few seconds, and eventually concluded that he was looking forward to it.

The villa’s soundproofing was absurdly good. With neither of them speaking, the room was utterly silent.

So silent that Song Jiang could almost hear the man above him swallow.

What did the CEO mean by “shut his mouth”?

He couldn’t figure it out right away, so he decided to just cover his lips first.

His sharp chin was covered by both small hands. His almond-shaped eyes were like a clear spring, reflecting only one person.

Fu Zhichen’s heart felt inexplicably ignited a flame. No longer holding back, he lowered himself until their foreheads touched.

Song Jiang was completely flustered. Fu Zhichen’s unsettlingly handsome face loomed larger before his eyes—pleasing to look at, yet dangerous.

What’s President Fu’s problem so early in the morning?

What did he mean by pinning him down?

And what did he plan to do to him now?

Before he could figure it out, he heard Fu Zhichen speak in a low voice.

“Steward Song, if you’re seducing me this early, are you hoping I don’t go to work?”

Song Jiang shook his head in confusion. Seducing him? How was he seducing him?

If President Fu didn’t go to work, how would he get paid?

“President Fu, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

This position they were in was terrifying. Song Jiang had no doubt that if his hand weren’t covering his mouth, Fu Zhichen would absolutely kiss him.

He tried to push Fu Zhichen away, but it was useless. He could only keep his hands between their bodies.

“Steward Song, if you want me to stay with you today, you can just say so. I’ll consider it.”

Was Fu Zhichen’s Chinese taught by a gym teacher? Where did this twisted understanding come from?

Couldn’t he see that Song Jiang wished he would just leave?

His plan for today was to chat with Aunt Wang at home and play some games!

With President Fu at home, he wouldn’t dare to do anything. Absolutely not. What a jinx! Go away, go away!

“President Fu, I don’t need anyone to keep me company. Please go to work.”

Song Jiang’s mind was perfectly clear.

“Besides, the co-sleeping contract specifies that Party A cannot force Party B into any intimate behavior. President Fu, you should let go of me…”

It was one thing for Fu Zhichen to hold him while sleeping, but now this—was this really okay?

The young steward’s soft, muffled protests were like magic, igniting an indescribable heat deep in Fu Zhichen’s throat.

“Steward Song, I warned you earlier. You insisted on messing with me, and now you’ve lit a fire you can’t put out. And you still have the nerve to bring up the co-sleeping contract?”

What nonsense was Fu Zhichen spouting now? When had Song Jiang lit any fire?

Seeing Song Jiang’s confusion, Fu Zhichen lowered himself completely, his head dropping beside Song Jiang’s ear. When he spoke, his hot breath crept into Song Jiang’s ear, the warm, refined tone setting his nerves on edge.

“Steward Song, do you know how you started the fire?”

“……”

Song Jiang’s mind went blank.

After a few seconds, if he still didn’t get it, he’d be an idiot.

Fu Zhichen’s breathing grew heavier. As if in punishment, he gently grazed the edge of Song Jiang’s ear with his teeth.

After a long moment, he finally murmured, “Steward Song, I’m going out to earn money. You stay home and wait for me, be good.”

“Don’t even think about running off. If I can’t find you again, the consequences will be severe.”

“……”

An outright threat.

He hadn’t planned to go anywhere anyway. This was a huge villa, a place those female supporting characters would kill to get into. It was so comfortable—why would he want to leave?

By the time Fu Zhichen left for work, Song Jiang was still lying motionless in the bed, unable to snap out of it.

The more he thought about it, the stranger Fu Zhichen’s last two sentences seemed.

More like a newlywed husband, after a night of doting on his wife, telling her the next morning something like, “I’ll earn the money, you focus on being beautiful at home.”

？？？

What had made him come up with such an absurd idea?

Right, he must still be half asleep. Song Jiang violently pulled the blanket over his head, curling up under the covers.

Ten minutes later, the lump on the bed began to squirm rapidly—someone was rolling over under the covers.

……

……

Having spent the whole day in the villa, Song Jiang felt uncomfortable all over.

He wanted to scratch.

But Fu Zhichen had explicitly forbidden it.

He said that if he saw any scratch marks on Song Jiang’s body, each scratch would cost him a thousand.

What kind of unreasonable rule was that? It was his own body—why did President Fu get to control whether he could scratch an itch?

What’s the deal? Does he not even have the right to control his own body now?

Fortunately, after Fu Zhichen left, someone brought him a big bag of medicine, saying that taking it on time would help with the symptoms.

Each medicine box had detailed instructions on dosage and precautions written on it. Song Jiang tore open all the packages.

The pills were fine—he could just close his eyes, swallow them with water, and get it over with. But the tricky part was the ointment.

It said to apply it wherever it itched.

So what was he supposed to do if his back itched?

That was a huge problem. Was he supposed to strip down and ask Mrs. Wang to apply it for him?

Song Jiang imagined the scene in his head. No way, that would be so awkward. He’d be too embarrassed.

After racking his brain with no solution in sight, he just set the ointment aside and ignored it, enduring the itch all day.

He didn’t even notice Fu Zhichen coming back.

He was busy playing a one-on-one game on his phone against Chu Yan, trying to distract himself from the itch. But his skills were terrible—he had already lost two rounds.

Back in college, when he saw people around him playing games, he got into it too. Best of five, and he wouldn't quit until the last round!

He was lying on the single sofa in the living room, fuming.

“You’ve already won two rounds. Can’t you just let me win one?”

Chu Yan replied mercilessly, “No way. In e-sports, there's no room for brotherly love.”

“...”

“Having fun?”

Song Jiang didn’t react at first. He sighed and said honestly, “Not fun at all. I’ve been losing all day.”

“Beg me, and I’ll help you win.”

Huh?

Song Jiang froze for a few seconds, looked up to see who was speaking, and almost dropped his phone.

Wait, is this for real? The sun wasn't even down yet, and the CEO was already back at the villa? That can’t be right, can it?

Song Jiang didn’t believe it. He thought he might be hallucinating from playing games for too long, so he checked the clock hanging in the living room again.

The hour hand was between five and six, and the minute hand was pointing at twenty.

Normally, at this hour, the CEO should still be grinding away at the office, making money.

Seeing Song Jiang’s dazed expression, Fu Zhichen flicked him on the forehead.

“Silly, does it hurt?”

It hurt.

So the CEO was real after all.

Song Jiang quickly turned off his phone, flashed a playful smile at Fu Zhichen, and said, “Mr. Fu, you’re back early today. Not busy at the office?”

The spot on the young butler’s forehead that Fu Zhichen had flicked quickly turned red. His face was already fair, so the redness was very noticeable.

How did he get such delicate skin? What did he eat when he was growing up?

Fu Zhichen felt a pang of regret for what he had just done. Frowning, he stared at that spot for a few moments before finally answering.

“Busy.”

“But there’s a naughty little kid at home.”

＊

(๑ १д๑) It’s windy and rainy today, a Black Thursday.

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