Is This The Right Way To Repay A Favor? Chapter 86
byThe Follow-up
“Ignore it.” Shen Zhiyu’s kiss fell again, his warm breath brushing against Jiang Zhou’s sensitive neck. “I want to serve my sugar daddy right now. Daddy, will you give me the chance?”
His palm was scorching hot, and every inch of skin his fingertips grazed felt like it had been set alight, burning like a wildfire.
Jiang Zhou couldn’t help but let out a soft moan, his fingers unconsciously gripping the fabric on Shen Zhiyu’s back, wrinkling a patch of it.
“Ph-phone,” his eyes were flushed with moist crimson, his voice broken and barely forming a complete sentence.
“Don’t answer.” Shen Zhiyu used his teeth slightly, nipping a small patch of skin on Jiang Zhou’s collarbone, leaving a damp, ambiguous mark.
At the same time, his other hand skillfully untied Jiang Zhou’s sash, and warm fingers explored beneath the clothing, his intention crystal clear.
Jiang Zhou gasped sharply, his body instinctively arching up, only to be pressed down harder into the depths of the sofa.
The annoying phone ringtone had barely stopped for a second before it started vibrating persistently again, the sharp sound particularly jarring in the quiet room.
Shen Zhiyu paused, clicking his tongue in annoyance. His forehead rested against Jiang Zhou’s, his breathing heavy and hot.
Taking advantage of the pause, Jiang Zhou pushed him away slightly and reached for the phone on the coffee table, his voice still wrapped in the hoarseness of lingering arousal. “Seriously, it’s important.”
His eyes were shimmering with moisture, his lips swollen from kissing, and his collar was loose, revealing a patch of pinkish skin. Shen Zhiyu’s eyes darkened. He suddenly lowered his head with a mischievous intent and bit the exposed skin, neither too hard nor too soft.
“Ah!” Jiang Zhou was caught off guard, a short yelp escaping his lips, and the phone nearly slipped from his grasp.
Only then did Shen Zhiyu slowly pick up the phone for him. He glanced at the screen, a playful curve lifting his lips. “It’s Wei Yan.”
He slid his thumb across the answer button, but deliberately held the phone away from his ear. Instead, he lowered his head and kissed Jiang Zhou again, swallowing all his whimpers and gasps between their lips.
On the other end of the line, Wei Yan’s excited voice faintly carried through. “Mr. Jiang! Great news! The public opinion is starting to shift!”
Jiang Zhou trembled all over, feeling both shame and annoyance. He bit Shen Zhiyu back fiercely, his wet, deer-like eyes glaring at him in accusation.
Seeing his reaction, Shen Zhiyu knew when to stop and reluctantly released him.
Jiang Zhou took a deep breath, trying hard to suppress his erratic breathing and heartbeat.
On the phone, Wei Yan continued his report. “Several key pieces of evidence have been picked apart by netizens and tech experts, revealing contradictions. Now, the voices of doubt under the trending topics are growing!”
Jiang Zhou’s eyes instantly cleared, the previous haze of confusion completely gone. “What’s the reaction from the other side?”
“They’re still holding on, but the intensity of their comment control is noticeably weaker. We found that several accounts that were the most aggressive before suddenly deleted their posts or set them to be visible for only six months. They probably realized the tide was turning and wanted to quietly retreat.”
“Good. Continue to guide the discussion, but be careful with the pacing. Let the dust settle for a bit longer.”
“In another three or four hours, we can let our follow-up moves start rolling out.”
“Understood!”
The call ended, leaving only the sound of their uneven breathing in the room.
Shen Zhiyu looked at Jiang Zhou, who had instantly switched into work mode. He ran his fingers through Jiang Zhou’s slightly damp fringe, his tone carrying a hint of subtle frustration. “Was my service not up to par?”
Jiang Zhou turned his head, his earlobes still crimson, but his eyes had returned to their usual clear, sharp state.
“?”
“One phone call, and Mr. Jiang can pull away from me.” Shen Zhiyu’s eyes held a playful glint, but he deliberately put on a wronged expression. “It seems the quality of my service still needs improvement.”
Hearing him say that, Jiang Zhou’s behavior did sound a bit like that of a heartless scumbag who gets what he wants and leaves.
Jiang Zhou’s heart softened slightly. He proactively raised his head and kissed Shen Zhiyu’s chin in a comforting gesture. “I’m giving you a chance now.”
Four hours later, Languang Media’s follow-up moves were deployed on schedule.
There were no grand statements, no aggressive comment control; everything began quietly.
The first to act was a seemingly ordinary “industry insider” account. Under a post accusing Shen Zhiyu of being a diva, it left this comment:
“As a behind-the-scenes staff member, honestly, I feel a bit sorry for S. His traffic has been too explosive since returning to the country, directly cutting into someone else’s profits. This time, he’s clearly being targeted for destruction. This wave of smearing is too deliberate. Do they really think netizens have no memory? Remember that time when X family’s young star failed to snatch resources and it turned ugly? Did you forget?”
This comment seemed casual, yet it precisely threw out several key elements: conflict of interest, deliberate smearing, and a vague “certain family” that was enough to spark speculation.
Soon, the comment was liked and pushed to the top, with replies piling up beneath it.
“Sister, you hit the nail on the head! I knew something was up with so many black materials suddenly appearing, and the timing is so concentrated!”
“I’m blindly guessing X is… the young star whose surname starts with Y? His fans definitely fought with Shen’s side over resources before.”
“Requesting background info! Which profit? Which family made the move?”
“This whole operation is chilling when you think about it.”
Immediately after, several entertainment marketing accounts with significant follower counts “just happened” to start reposting an old video clip from several months ago.
It was the incident where a certain young star surnamed Y’s team was exposed for using unconventional methods in business negotiations. Although it didn’t explicitly point to Shen Zhiyu at the time, its reappearance now, echoing the comment, was highly suggestive.
Concurrently, another batch of technical analysis posts began to trend. They didn’t directly defend Shen Zhiyu but systematically dismantled the logical flaws and technical doubts in the recent black materials.
“Rational discussion: Was there really an event at the hotel mentioned in the ‘chaotic private life’ exposé during that time? I checked the official website, and it seems like it was under renovation?”
“Gossip class representative here. After sorting out the timeline, I found that the time mentioned in a certain exposé and another certain exposé don’t match up at all. So how did SZY manage to be in two cities simultaneously?”
“Pure technical analysis, no taking sides. The source file properties of the chat record screenshot someone posted are quite interesting.”
Water armies, mixed in with genuine netizens, engaged in seemingly rational discussions, but were actually guiding the public step by step. They cleverly shifted public attention from “Did Shen Zhiyu do it?” to “Who is doing the exposing?” and “Why are they exposing?”
In the living room, only a few ambient lights were on, the lighting soft.
Shen Zhiyu leaned lazily on the sofa, scrolling through the rapidly changing public opinion on his tablet screen. The light from the screen flickered in his deep eyes, revealing little emotion.
Jiang Zhou sat beside him, a laptop on his knees, its screen displaying constantly updating data streams and public sentiment analysis charts.
Suddenly, Shen Zhiyu stretched out his leg and gently nudged Jiang Zhou, who was focused on the data, with his toe.
“Mr. Jiang,” Shen Zhiyu spoke, his voice carrying a lazy rasp. “You’re quite skilled at this trick of diverting disaster to the east.”
As he spoke, his toes restlessly traced light circles on the inside of Jiang Zhou’s calf.
Jiang Zhou’s fingers, tapping the keyboard, paused slightly. He turned his head, his gaze shifting from the screen to Shen Zhiyu’s face.
He didn’t speak, but instead reached out and firmly grasped Shen Zhiyu’s mischievous ankle.
The cool temperature of his palm pressed directly against the skin, causing Shen Zhiyu to let out a soft hiss.
“Cold so quickly?” Shen Zhiyu frowned slightly.
The next second, he suddenly exerted force, using the leverage of his grasped ankle to yank Jiang Zhou directly toward himself from the other end of the sofa.
Jiang Zhou tumbled into his arms, his laptop narrowly resting beside them.
Jiang Zhou struggled to open his eyes amidst a flurry of urgent doorbells.
The light outside the window was faint; it was only a little past six in the morning.
The spot beside him was empty, and the faint sound of running water came from the bathroom.
Jiang Zhou pressed his throbbing temples and got up to open the door.
Standing outside the door was a couple in their sixties. The elderly gentleman wore a well-ironed Zhongshan suit, his temples graying, with an elegant demeanor. The lady beside him wore a plain knitted cardigan, her hair neatly tied back.
They clearly paused when they saw Jiang Zhou open the door, then looked up to confirm the apartment number.
“Excuse me, isn’t this A-Yu’s place?” the elderly gentleman asked, his voice gentle.
A-Yu?
Jiang Zhou quickly searched his memory but couldn’t match the two people in front of him with any relatives or friends Shen Zhiyu had mentioned.
“Yes, it is. May I ask who you are?”
“We are Xie Xuan’s parents,” the elderly woman softly interjected, a hint of subtle anxiety and earnestness in her eyes. “We came to see A-Yu about something urgent.”
Xie Xuan’s parents?
Jiang Zhou’s heart jumped. He immediately stepped aside and invited the two into the house. “Ah, Uncle and Auntie, please come in quickly.”
Yesterday, the circuit in his apartment had malfunctioned, so the two of them had slept at Shen Zhiyu’s place.
Jiang Zhou led the elders to sit on the living room sofa, then went to the kitchen to pour two cups of warm water. “Please sit for a moment. I’ll go call him.”
The two elders sat down as requested, their posture somewhat constrained, their hands nervously clasped, their expressions conveying an unspoken gravity.
Just then, Shen Zhiyu emerged from the bathroom, water still dripping from his hair, carrying a moist, warm aura. He hadn’t seen Jiang Zhou in the bedroom and was slightly confused when he saw Jiang Zhou walking toward him from the living room direction.
“You’re awake? Why didn’t you sleep longer?” Shen Zhiyu naturally reached out and touched the corner of Jiang Zhou’s eye with the back of his finger, his tone carrying the relaxation of a fresh shower and a hint of tenderness. “You went to sleep so late last night.”
His fingertips still held the heat from the bathroom, brushing against the skin and leaving a subtle tickle.
Jiang Zhou had faint dark circles under his eyes, showing obvious fatigue. He considered himself energetic; pulling all-nighters was commonplace during his early years of entrepreneurship, and working several days straight was nothing to him. His stamina and endurance were top-notch.
But all of that was completely defenseless against Shen Zhiyu, especially during certain indulgent moments.
Like last night.
Jiang Zhou’s ears felt warm as the touch and words reminded him of certain unspeakable fragments from the previous night. He brushed his hand away, trying to keep his voice steady. “Xie Xuan’s parents are here, in the living room.”
Shen Zhiyu paused, a hint of surprise in his expression. “Why are they here?”
He quickly changed into casual clothes suitable for receiving guests.
Jiang Zhou intentionally avoided going out with him.
However, just as Shen Zhiyu walked out,
Bang! Bang!
Two consecutive dull thuds suddenly came from the living room, sounding like heavy objects falling or a body suddenly dropping to its knees.
Jiang Zhou’s heart leaped. He immediately rushed out.