Is This The Right Way To Repay A Favor? Chapter 61

Massage

The car drove into the underground parking lot. The engine cut out, and the surroundings instantly fell silent.

Jiang Zhou unbuckled his seatbelt and turned his head to look. Shen Zhiyu seemed to be asleep, his eyes closed, his breathing steady, but his brow was slightly furrowed, revealing a hint of fatigue and discomfort.

The lights from the underground parking lot filtered through the car window, outlining his sharp jawline.

Sitting in this position for too long in the car was uncomfortable and hard on the back.

Jiang Zhou hesitated for a moment, but finally gently nudged Shen Zhiyu’s arm, “We’re here.”

Shen Zhiyu’s eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes.

He adjusted to the light, looked at Jiang Zhou, and then turned to look at the familiar parking lot outside the window.

Shen Zhiyu acknowledged him with a sound, and with slightly sluggish movements, reached to unbuckle his seatbelt. When his elbow brushed the car door, it seemed to pull at his waist, causing him to draw a nearly inaudible breath.

Jiang Zhou immediately got out of the car, walked around to the passenger side, and pulled the door open for him, his hand hovering protectively.

“Be careful.”

Shen Zhiyu glanced at him, said nothing, and slowly straightened up, using Jiang Zhou’s support. The soreness in his lower back made his face turn a shade paler. He instinctively braced his lower back with his hand, standing still to recover for a few seconds.

Liu Mo had truly been heavy-handed. He really shouldn’t have been so provocative in front of him earlier; now he was simply asking for trouble.

However, if it could garner some sympathy, perhaps it wasn’t so bad.

Shen Zhiyu leaned his weight further in Jiang Zhou’s direction.

Jiang Zhou supported him as they walked into the elevator and went upstairs.

With a soft chime, the elevator doors opened, and Shen Zhiyu said, “Let’s go to your place.”

Jiang Zhou recalled Shen Zhiyu’s words in the car—”This afternoon, I belong to you”—and his ears felt slightly warm.

Upon reaching the spacious sofa in the living room, Shen Zhiyu practically collapsed onto it, releasing his weight. He let out a long sigh, closed his eyes, his face showing obvious fatigue and discomfort.

Seeing his state, Jiang Zhou hesitated about whether he should ask him to lie down on the bed.

But asking that question seemed too intimate, almost like an invitation.

Just as he was deliberating, Shen Zhiyu spoke with his eyes closed, his voice muffled by the sofa cushion.

“What does CEO Jiang like to do when he’s home?”

Even now, Shen Zhiyu was still thinking about accompanying him to do something.

An undetected void deep in Jiang Zhou’s heart was slowly being filled.

Jiang Zhou heard the faint drumming of his heart beating in his chest.

“Watch movies, sleep.”

Jiang Zhou added an extra option so that “sleep” didn’t sound so abrupt.

Compared to having Shen Zhiyu accompany him to do something, Jiang Zhou would rather he lie down and rest on the bed.

If that wasn’t possible, watching a movie was a slightly better second choice.

He had a home theater installed, and the viewing area held a loose, soft sofa bed. Jiang Zhou used to watch Shen Zhiyu’s performances there, and when he got tired or sleepy, he would just fall asleep right there.

“Alright, let’s watch a movie then.”

“You rest for a bit, I’ll go tidy up.” Jiang Zhou poured Shen Zhiyu a cup of hot water and turned to head to the home theater.

After hiding all the videos related to Shen Zhiyu in the home theater, Jiang Zhou came out to call him.

Shen Zhiyu sat down on the sofa bed, finding a side-lying position, facing the screen. He bent his legs, placed one hand under his head, and hugged a cushion with the other.

Jiang Zhou sat in the corner on the other side of the sofa. The sofa bed, usually spacious, suddenly seemed a little cramped with two tall men seated on it.

“What kind of movie do you like?” The screen lit up, and Jiang Zhou distractedly flipped through the movie catalog, his peripheral vision constantly fixed on Shen Zhiyu on the sofa bed.

“A long one.” Preferably one that could last the entire afternoon.

Jiang Zhou’s thoughts coincided with his. He hoped the movie was long enough to put Shen Zhiyu to sleep.

He searched and found a classic sci-fi film that was four hours long.

“Is this movie okay?”

Shen Zhiyu glanced at it—four hours and ten minutes—and nodded in satisfaction.

The movie began to play.

Jiang Zhou turned off all the lights in the home theater.

The room instantly darkened, illuminated only by the light reflecting off the screen.

Jiang Zhou sat stiffly on one side of the sofa bed, leaning slightly forward, seemingly focused on the screen, but in reality, all his senses were capturing the slightest movement from the other end.

Shen Zhiyu remained very quiet, only occasionally making a faint rustling sound when adjusting his posture.

It wasn’t until after a fierce explosion sound effect that Jiang Zhou suddenly heard a very low, suppressed gasp.

He immediately turned to look.

Shen Zhiyu had somehow returned to lying flat on his back, one hand pressing hard against his lower back.

Jiang Zhou rushed to his side, his tone urgent, “Did you twist your back?”

The home theater was dark, with only the flickering light from the screen illuminating Jiang Zhou, the light and shadow constantly shifting.

Shen Zhiyu saw the worried look on Jiang Zhou’s face, and the words “I’m fine” were swallowed back down his throat.

A simple “It’s a bit uncomfortable” slipped out instead.

Jiang Zhou looked at Shen Zhiyu’s hand pressing his waist, the knuckles white from the force. He remembered Dr. Liu’s instruction to “massage it often when you get back,” and an impulse overcame his rationality.

“Don’t move.” Jiang Zhou’s voice was tight.

He reached out, his fingertips trembling slightly, yet he firmly placed his hand over the back of Shen Zhiyu’s hand that was pressing his waist. He wanted to rub it for him but dared not use force. “Is it here? Dr. Liu said it would be more sore right after the procedure. Massaging it often will help.”

His fingertips were cool, but the touch felt as if it carried a scorching heat.

Shen Zhiyu’s body seemed to stiffen for a moment. He lowered his gaze, looking at Jiang Zhou kneeling in front of him with a serious expression. In those beautiful deer eyes, a section of his waistline and the massaging hand were clearly reflected.

Shen Zhiyu flipped his hand and grabbed Jiang Zhou’s wrist, the force strong enough to pull Jiang Zhou up.

Shen Zhiyu moved back slightly, taking the opportunity to pull Jiang Zhou down to sit beside him on the sofa bed.

He lifted a corner of his shirt, guided Jiang Zhou’s hand, and placed it back on his sore lower back.

“Here—” Shen Zhiyu closed his eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his voice low and husky.

Jiang Zhou, somehow, was forced to sit right next to Shen Zhiyu.

Without the obstruction of clothing, the muscle beneath his palm was taut and warm. Jiang Zhou’s fingers felt scalded and instinctively wanted to curl up, but they were held in place by Shen Zhiyu’s hand, which hadn’t fully released him, forcing them to stiffly conform to that burning area.

Shen Zhiyu still seemed uncomfortable. He shifted forward, leaning toward Jiang Zhou.

Jiang Zhou sat rigidly, raising his eyes to meet Shen Zhiyu’s gaze.

Shen Zhiyu looked at him with heavy eyes, complex, indecipherable emotions churning within them, his breath hot.

“Change positions.”

“You sit on the inside.”

In the dim light, such words sounded ambiguous.

Jiang Zhou’s fingertips trembled subtly, and he didn’t move for a long time.

Shen Zhiyu urged, “CEO Jiang?”

Jiang Zhou snapped back to attention, taking a deep breath.

“Are you going to watch the movie while squatting? Sit on the inside.”

Jiang Zhou realized what he meant, stepped over Shen Zhiyu’s feet, walked around the other side of the sofa bed, and sat down behind him.

Shen Zhiyu took the opportunity to shift forward slightly.

Recalling the massage techniques he had occasionally seen, Jiang Zhou placed both hands back on Shen Zhiyu’s waist, tentatively increasing the pressure, and began to slowly press with his palms.

His movements were a little clumsy but exceptionally focused. Every bit of pressure was applied carefully, constantly observing Shen Zhiyu’s reaction.

The tense muscles under his hands seemed to begin relaxing, albeit very slowly, under his massage.

A very low, almost comfortable sigh escaped Shen Zhiyu’s throat, and his body sank more loosely into the sofa bed.

The faint scent of medicinal oil permeated the air. The screen in the home theater flickered, and the sound of the movie mixed with their intertwined breathing and the friction of skin being pressed.

Jiang Zhou knelt behind him, his entire focus fixed on the small area beneath his fingertips.

He felt the warmth of Shen Zhiyu’s body and the gradual softening of the muscle texture beneath his hands.

This sensation was strange and intoxicating, carrying an intimacy that felt almost sacrilegious.

He kept his eyes lowered, not daring to look at Shen Zhiyu’s face, only staring at his moving hands and the outline of the exposed waistline.

Time passed quietly.

After an unknown duration, Shen Zhiyu’s breathing became increasingly long and even.

Just when Jiang Zhou thought he might have fallen asleep again, Shen Zhiyu suddenly spoke, his voice heavy with sleep and a hint of lazy hoarseness.

“Jiang Zhou.”

“Hmm?” Jiang Zhou paused his movements.

Shen Zhiyu offered no further words, as if he had only called his name unconsciously.

After a few seconds, he mumbled again, like a sleep-talker. “Good massage.”

Then, he turned over, positioning himself with his back to Jiang Zhou, exposing his entire back and waist even more completely to his sight and hands.

Jiang Zhou’s fingertips hovered in mid-air, his heart pounding like a drum. He looked at the short stubble on the back of Shen Zhiyu’s neck, the lines of his shoulder blades rising and falling slightly with his breath, and that lean waistline…

Jiang Zhou knew he shouldn’t be having suggestive thoughts at this moment.

But his body’s reaction was honest and utterly irresistible.

Jiang Zhou took a deep breath, rationally forced himself to look away, and placed his slightly trembling palms back down, continuing the slightly clumsy but incredibly earnest massage.

Shen Zhiyu’s breathing became more and more regular. The hand resting on the edge of the sofa was completely relaxed, his fingers slightly curled.

He seemed to be truly asleep.

Jiang Zhou remained kneeling on the soft sofa bed. His knees were starting to feel numb, and his arms were aching, but he dared not stop his movements. He was afraid that if he stopped, this stolen moment of intimacy would instantly end.

After another unknown period, Shen Zhiyu moved without warning.

It wasn’t an adjustment of posture, but his entire body leaned back ever so slightly, pressing more closely against Jiang Zhou’s hands massaging his lower back.

Jiang Zhou’s movements instantly froze.

Shen Zhiyu didn’t seem to wake up, only emitting a vague, satisfied sound from his throat, like a cat rubbing against a satisfying itch, before sinking into deeper sleep.

The hand that Shen Zhiyu had unconsciously rubbed against became scorching hot and stiff, as if it no longer belonged to him.

After recovering for a while, Jiang Zhou resumed his movements, making the pressure even gentler.

The movie continued to play, the flickering light and shadow falling upon the two of them, creating an intimate atmosphere.