71: article

Although Yan Zhuohua's body hadn't fully recovered by this Friday, Yan Qinghe still lived a life full of sensual pleasure.

Fortunately, today was Saturday and they could stay home; otherwise, Yan Zhuohua wouldn't have known how to step out and face anyone.

Yan Zhuohua sat at another desk not far from Yan Qinghe, writing a literature review, occasionally stealing glances at Yan Qinghe.

Yan Qinghe kept his head down, seriously working on a thesis proposal that was nearly finished, but his voice suddenly rang out.

“Why are you peeking at me?” Yan Qinghe still didn't look up.

Yan Zhuohua hadn't expected to be caught like this, but he felt Yan Qinghe definitely had no evidence.

“Who's looking at you? I certainly wasn't.”

Yan Qinghe typed the final period and saved the file before looking up at Yan Zhuohua.

“Really?”

“Really!”

Yan Qinghe gave an “oh,” stood up, and walked toward Yan Zhuohua. He stopped beside him under Yan Zhuohua's wary and terrified gaze, leaning down to look at the literature review on the computer screen.

“But you've been at it for three hours this morning and written less than a thousand words?”

“Can't I prioritize quality?”

“Fine.” Yan Qinghe pulled him up, sat in the chair himself, and forced Yan Zhuohua to sit on his lap.

“What are you doing? I still have to write my review!” Yan Zhuohua sat reluctantly in Yan Qinghe's arms, though he didn't struggle.

Yan Qinghe lightly stroked Yan Zhuohua's swollen lips. “Still angry?”

How could he not be! Yan Zhuohua didn't speak, only glaring at Yan Qinghe with indignation.

“Don't be angry anymore. How about I apply some medicine for you?” Yan Qinghe coaxed him in a low voice.

Yan Zhuohua glared at him. “Where on earth did you learn all these... these... these messy things!”

Yan Qinghe chuckled and confessed directly.

“Last time when I was buying the ‘torture devices’ to interrogate you, I saw it in the related recommendations, so I conveniently bought a story pack.”

Hearing this, Yan Zhuohua's eyes filled with disbelief, and he reached out to search Yan Qinghe's person for his phone.

Yan Qinghe let him fish the phone out of his pocket and watched as he skillfully unlocked it.

“Where is it? Where do I look?”

Yan Qinghe freed a hand to open that story pack.

Yan Zhuohua read word by word; before finishing even one story, his face flushed, and he bit his lip, slamming the phone back into Yan Qinghe's arms.

“You plan to use all of these on me?”

Yan Qinghe pulled him closer into his arms with both hands. “Most of them are too unrealistic; I don't plan on using those.”

Good grief, so that means he's going to use everything that is achievable?

“Yan Qinghe! What exactly is in your head?”

“My head is full of you, wife.”

Yan Zhuohua was so angry he was speechless, staring fiercely at this big rogue.

Yan Qinghe laughed happily, picked up the phone that had fallen on him, and handed it back to Yan Zhuohua.

“You should read a few more. I've picked out some I like and put them in the bottom folder. I was originally going to choose the punishment you still owe me from there. But since you know now, I'll give you some face—pick one yourself.”

I don't want to pick! Yan Zhuohua held the phone but was unwilling to look down.

“Be good. Otherwise, I'll pick two to use at the same time.”

Yan Zhuohua grew even angrier, but he still couldn't win against Yan Qinghe, so he gritted his teeth and compromised.

“I'll pick one, and you delete the rest. And you're not allowed to look for them again in the future!” Such things shouldn't continue to exist on Yan Qinghe's phone.

Yan Qinghe was naturally unwilling to let his originally abundant benefits dwindle to a solitary one.

“No.”

“Two, I'll pick two.”

“Zhuohua, there are conservatively over thirty stories in the folder I've curated. You want me to give up the rest for a mere two?”

Yan Zhuohua suppressed his anger. “Then how many do you want? Let's be clear: if you go too far, I'm really going to lose my temper.”

Yan Qinghe naturally knew when to quit while he was ahead.

He said smoothly, “Half.”

Yan Zhuohua stood up abruptly.

“In your dreams!” If even a single part of any one of those stories was taken out on its own, it would make him wish for death. Half? It would probably cost him his life.

Seeing that the man was truly incensed, Yan Qinghe quickly reached out and pulled him back into his arms.

“Fifteen, how about fifteen?”

Yan Zhuohua struggled.

“Ten, no fewer than that.” Yan Qinghe forcibly restrained the person in his arms. “And I get to pick them personally.”

Yan Zhuohua finally stopped struggling.

Thus, he sat in Yan Qinghe's lap, watching the man's eyes flicker with indecision and his face full of reluctance as he browsed through those “articles,” taking over ten minutes to painstakingly keep ten stories.

After personally deleting all the other files and, at Yan Qinghe's request, shamefully picking one at random as the content for his punishment, Yan Zhuohua finally breathed a sigh of relief when Yan Qinghe returned to his desk, still looking somewhat unsatisfied.

This will be the death of me.

On Sunday afternoon, at the police station, Zhao Mingting—who had been pacing anxiously and burning with worry for two days—finally saw the person he wanted to see.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and this time, two people indeed entered.

Zhao Mingting narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Head of the Yan Family? Why are you here too?”

Yan Qinghe sat down imposingly beside Yan Zhuohua. “I'm here to accompany my wife. Don't worry, just talk; I won't interfere.”

Although he didn't know why Yan Zhuohua had suddenly brought Yan Qinghe along, it didn't affect what Zhao Mingting had to say.

“I have experienced Madam Yan's methods; you truly deserve to be called A City's most dazzling heir back then!”

Yan Zhuohua couldn't be bothered to argue over the title; after all, this was all the man was capable of now. Yan Qinghe, on the other hand, gave a faint smile, earning a deep look from Yan Zhuohua.

“Get to the point.”

Zhao Mingting hadn't expected him to be so cold, as if he no longer cared about these matters.

After enduring for a long time, Zhao Mingting finally spoke under Yan Zhuohua's increasingly impatient expression.

“I can tell you everything I know, and I won't ask you to let me go, but you cannot let anyone else know, and you must guarantee Zixing's position as the head of the family.”

Yan Zhuohua sneered, and Yan Qinghe beside him also let out a mocking laugh.

“You've experienced my methods, and this is all you've come up with?”

Yan Zhuohua was just short of calling him shameless to his face.

Zhao Mingting didn't get angry at Yan Zhuohua's mockery. He hadn't expected Yan Zhuohua to agree in the first place; it was just a negotiation tactic—propose an impossible condition first, then slowly negotiate later. This was also known as the “breaking the window effect,” mentioned by Lu Xun.

“Since Madam Yan is dissatisfied, we can discuss it further.” Zhao Mingting had not given up his attempt to humiliate Yan Zhuohua with the title “Madam.” Though Yan Zhuohua didn't care at all.

“Head of the Zhao Family, do you think we are still in a conference room, negotiating as equals?” Yan Zhuohua said. “Right now, I am unilaterally crushing you under my foot, seeing if you, a dying man, can produce something that catches my eye to make me a bit happier, so that I might let you die a bit more gracefully.”