Is This The Right Way To Repay A Favor? Chapter 62

Initiative

Jiang Zhou didn’t know how much more time had passed when he felt Shen Zhiyu’s breathing pattern change, no longer the long, even breaths of deep sleep.

Jiang Zhou paused his movement, instinctively wanting to pull his hand back.

But it was too late.

Shen Zhiyu slowly shifted his shoulder, then seemed to wake up. He didn’t immediately turn over, maintaining his back-to-him position. His voice was thick and husky with the congestion of just waking up. “What time is it?”

His tone was so natural, as if he had simply woken up from a normal nap and was asking the person waiting beside him.

Jiang Zhou retracted his hand, his fingertips still retaining the warmth and texture of the other man. He glanced at the time on the screen. “Almost four.”

“Mm.” Shen Zhiyu responded, slowly turning over to lie flat on the sofa, then looked at Jiang Zhou, who was still kneeling behind him.

His eyes were clear now. His gaze landed on Jiang Zhou’s face, then swept over the hand he had just withdrawn.

The corner of Shen Zhiyu’s mouth curved almost imperceptibly. “CEO Jiang’s technique is good. It really feels more comfortable.”

Jiang Zhou immediately looked up. “Does it still hurt?”

Shen Zhiyu looked at him, not answering the question, but suddenly reached out a hand toward him.

Jiang Zhou was startled, looking blankly at the distinctly jointed hand.

“Help me up.” Shen Zhiyu’s tone was completely natural, carrying the laziness of just waking up. “My legs are numb from lying down.”

Jiang Zhou looked at the hand suspended in mid-air, and his heart started beating erratically again. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and grasped Shen Zhiyu’s palm.

The other man’s palm was dry and warm, carrying the heat of just waking up, easily enveloping his hand.

A force came through, and Jiang Zhou subconsciously pulled hard, forgetting that he himself had been kneeling on the sofa bed, and his legs were long since numb.

With that pull, he failed to lift Shen Zhiyu, and instead, his own body swayed, causing him to fall onto Shen Zhiyu.

The gap instantly vanished.

Shen Zhiyu’s arm naturally draped over him, firmly wrapping around Jiang Zhou’s waist.

The warm weight transmitted through the thin fabric, carrying an undeniable presence and possessiveness.

“Is CEO Jiang’s leg numb too?” Shen Zhiyu looked straight ahead, watching the scene on the screen where the protagonist was making a desperate counterattack. His tone was as calm as if discussing the weather, as if the action of wrapping his arm around Jiang Zhou’s waist was the most natural thing in the world.

But the reactions of their bodies were not so innocent.

Jiang Zhou clearly felt the changes in both their bodies. He was completely stiff, afraid to move. All the blood in his body rushed to the area of his waist that was being touched, making him frighteningly hot.

The movie was reaching its most thrilling climax, with cosmic battleships roaring toward the enemy camp.

But in Jiang Zhou’s world, there was only the heavy breathing near his ear, the scorching arm around his waist, and his rapidly spiraling heartbeat.

“I can get up now,” Jiang Zhou whispered, his voice clearly trembling.

He struggled to rise, but Shen Zhiyu’s arm remained around him, the force brooking no argument.

“Don’t move—” Shen Zhiyu hissed softly. The trajectory of his fingers slowed, carrying a sense of exploration as they moved slowly upward.

The heat burned Jiang Zhou’s nerves through the fabric. Those fingertips seemed like a silent pull, yet they carried an irresistible implication.

“Is this okay?” Shen Zhiyu’s hand stopped, not leaving, but hovering over that warm spot.

Their first time had been driven by anger and impulse.

Their second time had been fueled by alcohol.

Now, both of them were completely sober and aware. For some reason, this time, Shen Zhiyu didn’t want to force or tempt Jiang Zhou at all.

He stared at Jiang Zhou, his gaze focused and fervent.

He was waiting for an answer.

If Jiang Zhou said no, he would stop immediately.

Jiang Zhou lowered his eyes and saw Shen Zhiyu’s face so close to his own.

The light from the screen flickered, outlining Shen Zhiyu’s deep eye sockets and high nose bridge. The look he directed at Jiang Zhou was so tender and gentle.

Jiang Zhou’s heart pounded like thunder, the noise echoing in his eardrums.

Let him sink.

Let him fall into the dust, let him satisfy the man with his body, let him bear all the shame.

Perhaps this was the only value he had left to stay by Shen Zhiyu’s side.

Jiang Zhou lowered his head, driven by an impulse close to self-destruction, and kissed the corner of Shen Zhiyu’s lips.

Warm, soft, carrying the man’s unique scent, it instantly overwhelmed all of Jiang Zhou’s senses. The moment their lips touched, a massive sense of humiliation and a twisted pleasure struck him simultaneously, nearly suffocating him.

Shen Zhiyu hadn’t expected Jiang Zhou to be so proactive. His body jolted, and a muffled, low laugh escaped his throat.

Then, a large hand cupped the back of Jiang Zhou’s neck, deepening the kiss.

That humble clumsiness was gently enveloped and melted away.

Shen Zhiyu braced his hand on the edge of the sofa. He held Jiang Zhou, intending to roll over and sit up.

Jiang Zhou pressed down on his hand. The force wasn’t great, but it carried an undeniable insistence.

“Don’t move.” Jiang Zhou’s voice was extremely hoarse, clearly nervous, yet unusually firm. “Your back isn’t well.”

Shen Zhiyu: “?”

Immediately, in the next second, a slightly cool, trembling finger reached out with a clear objective toward the hem of Shen Zhiyu’s shirt.

Shen Zhiyu subconsciously tensed for a moment. He raised an eyebrow, looking at the suddenly proactive Jiang Zhou, the surprise in his eyes quickly replaced by a deep, intense interest.

He didn’t speak, merely watching with an air of composure, wanting to see what this little cat, who had suddenly extended its claws, intended to do.

Jiang Zhou’s heart hammered wildly in his chest. He avoided Shen Zhiyu’s probing gaze, leaned closer with his knees pressed against the sofa.

A shadow fell over them, and their breaths mingled in the extreme proximity.

Shen Zhiyu closed his eyes. The hand wrapped around Jiang Zhou’s waist slid down, loosely resting on his side—a posture of acquiescence, even indulgence.

This response undoubtedly encouraged Jiang Zhou.

His movements were light, carrying an evident sense of cherishment and tentativeness, as if he were handling an unparalleled treasure.

Shen Zhiyu allowed him to proceed, only letting out low, suppressed sounds from deep in his throat when more flames were ignited.

The scorching temperature and the increasingly obvious reaction accelerated Jiang Zhou’s heartbeat.

He looked at Shen Zhiyu in the light of the screen. Those slightly cold and beautiful eyes were now clouded with desire, gazing intensely at him, churning with deep lust and a certain indescribable patience.

This gaze was almost enough to ignite Jiang Zhou. He lowered his head again. This time the kiss landed on Shen Zhiyu’s Adam’s apple, feeling the violent bobbing there. He mimicked the man’s previous actions, lightly tracing the spot.

Shen Zhiyu sharply inhaled. The hand resting on Jiang Zhou’s side suddenly tightened, pulling him even closer into his embrace.

“Jiang Zhou—” Shen Zhiyu called his name hoarsely, his voice laced with suppressed gasps and a hint of warning.

But Jiang Zhou seemed not to hear, or perhaps, he was determined to have his way.

Like being unexpectedly struck in a vital spot, a muffled groan escaped. Shen Zhiyu abruptly opened his eyes, the moisture in them surging like a tide, almost ready to swallow the other man whole.

He looked at the person above him, whose eyes were flickering but refused to retreat. Finally, he seemed to give up on something, his Adam’s apple bobbing with difficulty. He closed his eyes again, tilting his head back, exposing the flushed line of his neck.

Receiving the silent encouragement, Jiang Zhou’s last trace of hesitation vanished. Every touch was accompanied by cautious probing.

In this moment, Jiang Zhou felt a kind of base excitement he had never experienced before. It was as if he had found his reason for existence at this moment.

A low, cheap outlet for the other man’s use.

Shen Zhiyu’s breathing grew increasingly ragged. He suddenly lifted his hand and forcefully gripped the back of Jiang Zhou’s head.

On the verge of losing control, he mumbled two words, hurried and low.

“Get on.”

Jiang Zhou’s mind was a chaotic mess, stirred by that base excitement and the other man’s reaction. He followed instinct and the vague command, trembling as he sought his position.

What followed was a deep, predatory kiss, as if intending to devour the other man alive.

In the darkness, only heavy, chaotic breathing remained.

—

A long time passed before the two of them calmed down.

To be precise, it was Jiang Zhou who calmed down.

Shen Zhiyu had recovered quickly, even shamelessly suggesting they go for another round.

But Jiang Zhou was mindful of his back injury and absolutely refused.

Shen Zhiyu finally understood what it meant to truly hoist himself by his own petard.

He held Jiang Zhou and lingered for a while longer before getting up to stretch his neck and shoulders, radiating a sense of post-satisfaction refreshment.

Jiang Zhou wanted to get up too, but he was completely drained of strength.

Shen Zhiyu leaned down and kissed the corner of his lips. “You rest. I’ll go see what we’re having for dinner.” He said this and walked out of the screening room toward the kitchen, leaving Jiang Zhou to rest alone.

Shen Zhiyu went to the kitchen and quickly made a simple tomato and egg noodle dish.

He came to the screening room to call Jiang Zhou.

Jiang Zhou was already up, tidying up the remnants on the sofa bed.

Shen Zhiyu didn’t interrupt. He stood by the door, watching quietly.

He watched the slight curve of his back, the exposed pale nape of his neck when he bent his head, and the meticulous way he restored that small area, which had just experienced a storm, back to everyday order.

It was like a nesting bird, carefully repairing a nest disturbed by wind and rain…

An indescribable feeling, like a warm tide, slowly washed over Shen Zhiyu’s heart.

Jiang Zhou finished tidying up and seemed to notice Shen Zhiyu by the door. His face was still slightly flushed, and his fingers were unconsciously twisting together.

He hadn’t yet learned how to face Shen Zhiyu soberly in the aftermath.

Shen Zhiyu seemed to know what he was thinking. He didn’t mention what had just happened, his expression natural. “The noodles are ready. Come eat.”

Jiang Zhou followed him out.

The two sat silently at the dining table, eating.

Shen Zhiyu seemed very hungry and ate quickly, fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Jiang Zhou ate slowly. The noodles were warm, quietly softening some of the tense emotions.

After finishing the meal, Shen Zhiyu naturally pushed his empty bowl away, leaned back in his chair, and subconsciously pressed his lower back again, his expression carrying the languor of being well-fed.

“The movie isn’t finished—” He looked up at Jiang Zhou, pointing his chin toward the screening room. “Want to keep watching?”

The movie, strictly speaking, had barely been watched at all.

But both of them tacitly agreed not to expose the truth.

“Okay.” Jiang Zhou stood up, habitually reaching to clear the dishes.

“I’ll do it.” Shen Zhiyu stopped him, getting up to collect the bowls and chopsticks. “You go grab a blanket.”

Returning to the screening room, Shen Zhiyu was already seated.

He wasn’t lying down, but sitting on one side of the sofa. Seeing Jiang Zhou enter, he beckoned to him. “Come here.”

Jiang Zhou sat down beside him. The sofa sank softly, and their arms were almost touching.

The latter half of the movie’s plot grew increasingly tense and violent, the light flickering intensely in the darkness.