The room had returned to silence, only the faint hum of the air conditioner filling the space.

Su Xunhao slumped onto the sofa, staring blankly at the tightly closed door. The lingering sensation from earlier—being pressed against the door, feeling Zhu Zhixun’s scorching body behind him—still clung to his skin. The cold wooden grain mixed with the heat from behind, leaving an indelible memory.

His legs were still slightly apart, knees trembling, and his back still twitching from the intense climax. The warmth inside him had not fully drained, and every slight muscle spasm sent thick, slick residue sliding down his inner thighs, soaking into the edge of the sofa and seeping between the fabric and leather, leaving an uncomfortable stickiness.

He had no strength to move. His mind was empty, only his heartbeat echoing in his ears… until—

“Ahhhhhh—!!!”

A piercing scream erupted from outside, shaking the soundproof walls and making his heart clench.

Straining, Su Xunhao lifted his eyes to the monitor on the wall.

The screen switched to the main stage—Zhu Zhixun had appeared, and the lights immediately focused on him. It was as if the sound of the world itself exploded.

Watching that radiant figure, Su Xunhao felt an overwhelming absurdity.

Just minutes ago, this same man had pinned him against a door, eyes dark with unspeakable desire, breathing hotly in his ear, whispering words that made his face burn.

And now, in front of the camera, he was the picture of elegance, every movement perfect, controlled, almost ascetic. When the close-up swept over that cold, noble face, Su Xunhao almost felt as if the wild, lustful man from moments ago had never existed—that the predator pressing against him was just a hallucination.

“How… did it turn out like this…” he whispered.

He leaned against the sofa, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, still sticky from sweat and ambiguous fluids. His fingertips grazed a mark on his collarbone; even a slight touch sent a jolt of pain through him.

Memories flared like an unlocked door.

He remembered the rainy afternoon years ago when they first met.

The office air conditioner was blasting, the corridor crowded with people rushing about, the air tense with busyness and anxiety. Su Xunhao had just finished a long meeting, holding a freshly signed contract, on his way back to his private office.

He was the company’s star agent, “Hao Ge,” walking with effortless authority.

Passing the entrance to the artist director’s office, a burst of impatience and shouting stopped him in his tracks.

“How many times have I told you? There’s no budget for your music! No extra roles for you either! Who do you think you are? Two years in this company, and you’ve done nothing! Don’t waste everyone’s time!”

The door slammed shut with a heavy bang, freezing the corridor for several seconds.

Su Xunhao frowned, glancing down.

In a corner of the carpeted corridor, crouched awkwardly, was a figure entirely out of place.

Zhu Zhixun, wearing worn, pilling practice clothes issued by the company, was on the floor, scrambling to pick up scripts and demo tapes tossed aside by the director.

These were songs he had stayed up all night writing, small acting auditions he had personally fought for—and now they were scattered like trash. Despite being signed, he was invisible among the stars of the company. No agent wanted him. No resources were available. He was a ghost, spinning day after day in the practice room.

One of the scattered papers drifted to Su Xunhao’s feet.

Zhu Zhixun reached for it but instinctively recoiled when his hand nearly touched Su Xunhao’s polished shoes—a reflex born from years of neglect and rejection. He was used to stepping aside, to being humble.

Su Xunhao could have walked on. There were plenty of frozen, forgotten artists in the company; it wasn’t his responsibility.

But at that instant, he saw the scars on Zhu Zhixun’s hands—calluses and old wounds from relentless practice.

Impulsively, Su Xunhao bent down, and with clean, steady hands, picked up the paper.

Zhu Zhixun’s head shot up, stunned.

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