A Warm Tones - Chapter 2

Listening to the man’s voice, Qin Jiangzhi remained excessively indifferent. His gaze shifted from the man’s face to the metallic nameplate on the desk that read “He Rongchuan” and “Asia Region Chief Executive Officer.”

It was the name of the man in front of him.

“Let’s calculate how long it’s been since we last saw each other.” He Rongchuan showed no intention of standing up. He remained seated upright behind the desk, listing Qin Jiangzhi’s offenses in a deliberate, accusatory tone. “Should we start counting from the day I left for France in our freshman year? Or from the day you completely stopped answering my calls?”

Qin Jiangzhi frowned slightly.

“It’s been three years, hasn’t it?” He Rongchuan narrowed his eyes. “It’s been three years since the day you lied to me about coming to France and then disappeared without a trace, Qin Jiangzhi.”

“I don’t know what you’re…”

“Where exactly did you hide?” Two sharp taps sounded as He Rongchuan’s fingertips struck the desk. “A person with no real ability—where could you possibly hide that I couldn’t find you for three whole years?”

“…”

“If you wanted to hide, you should’ve stayed on high alert and lived like a sewer rat for the rest of your life.” As He Rongchuan spoke, his speech quickened uncontrollably, and his tone grew even more aggressive. “You should know how miserable you’ll be now that I’ve found you.”

Qin Jiangzhi shifted his bound legs and leaned his back lightly against the sofa. He seemed completely unaffected by the other man’s anger, only feeling that He Rongchuan was talking too much.

“I thought about you every single day, Qin Jiangzhi.” He Rongchuan continued, “Thinking about how I should torture you once I found you.”

If it was this kind of one-sided conversation, Qin Jiangzhi actually had trouble focusing on one thing or one person for too long. Although He Rongchuan said a lot—seemingly dumping years of accumulated resentment onto him and demanding that Qin Jiangzhi immediately understand the situation and give the ideal response he wanted—Qin Jiangzhi didn’t absorb much of it and couldn’t quite grasp He Rongchuan’s intentions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Most importantly, Qin Jiangzhi currently had no energy to play along with He Rongchuan’s drama. “I’m not the Qin Jiangzhi you’re looking for. I don’t know you.”

From the moment he was kidnapped, Qin Jiangzhi had worn the same expression and displayed the same calm, unruffled emotion. He Rongchuan took it upon himself to assume that the Qin Jiangzhi before him had already admitted to all the “crimes” he committed over the past three years through his attitude.

“You’ve got the wrong person,” Qin Jiangzhi said.

But those few simple words from Qin Jiangzhi completely denied He Rongchuan’s entire existence.

A heavy crashing sound of objects hitting the floor rang in both their ears. Qin Jiangzhi’s emotionless face turned toward the source of the sound. The teak floor was spotlessly clean; there were no broken fragments visible. He had no idea what He Rongchuan had thrown.

Qin Jiangzhi’s head started to ache again—sharp, throbbing pulses, but light enough to easily ignore.

He Rongchuan was clearly angry. Although he controlled his expression well, Qin Jiangzhi could still sense it.

After a few minutes, He Rongchuan finally spoke again: “Very good, Qin Jiangzhi.”

He reached for the landline on the desk, dialed an internal number, and said “Bring the documents over,” then hung up immediately.

Soon after, the large door behind Qin Jiangzhi opened. Wen Xu walked in, handed a stack of papers to He Rongchuan, and left without even glancing at Qin Jiangzhi.

Without bothering to confirm anything, He Rongchuan roughly grabbed the papers, finally stood up, and walked over to Qin Jiangzhi. Looking down at the slouched man, he said:

“Qin Jiangzhi, two choices.”

Once he got closer, Qin Jiangzhi truly felt the intense oppressive aura radiating from He Rongchuan.

He Rongchuan threw the few sheets of paper onto Qin Jiangzhi’s lap.

“Either become an organ donor…” He Rongchuan’s gaze swept across Qin Jiangzhi’s abdomen, his voice so icy it sounded like he wanted to cut him open right then and there. But the next second, his eyes turned slightly strange. “Or become my lover in bed.”

He Rongchuan said, “Qin Jiangzhi, make your choice.”

“Organs,” Qin Jiangzhi answered without hesitation, his response brief.

He Rongchuan let out a cold “Hah,” interpreting it as Qin Jiangzhi’s childish defiance. He took a fountain pen from the inner pocket of his suit and tossed it onto Qin Jiangzhi as well. “Sign it.”

The fountain pen had some weight; it still hurt when it landed on his leg.

Qin Jiangzhi’s hands were tied behind his back. Forget signing—he couldn’t even pick up the pen.

He Rongchuan had no intention of untying him, so he called Wen Xu back via the internal line: “Secretary Wen, you sign it.”

Qin Jiangzhi watched helplessly as Wen Xu picked up the contract from his lap, used He Rongchuan’s fountain pen, and shamelessly signed the name “Qin Jiangzhi” on the contract.

“…Secretary Wen.”

“Yes, Mr. Qin?”

“You imitated my handwriting,” Qin Jiangzhi paused, “and it’s pretty accurate.”

Wen Xu maintained his smile, looking rather proud. “Mr. Qin, I practiced for half a month.”

“I see.” Qin Jiangzhi offered the polite remark without any sincerity. “Thank you for your hard work.”

With the signature settled and the contract signed, even though Qin Jiangzhi didn’t know whether the contract had any legal validity, the result was that he had been forced into becoming He Rongchuan’s lover.

He Rongchuan had claimed to give Qin Jiangzhi a choice, but the contract only contained various restrictive conditions about being a lover. Because there were so many clauses, Qin Jiangzhi had only skimmed it briefly. After seeing a few obscene words that were too vulgar to mention, he stopped reading in detail.

“President He, here is the contract. Please take a look.” Wen Xu neatly arranged the papers and handed the contract to He Rongchuan.

“Hm.” He Rongchuan showed little interest in the contract. After confirming the signature, he casually tossed it onto the desk.

Wen Xu probably thought his task was complete and was about to leave.

But just as he turned around, He Rongchuan stopped him: “Secretary Wen.”

“Yes, President He? What can I do for you?”

He Rongchuan’s gaze was fixed on Qin Jiangzhi. Since Qin Jiangzhi had also raised his head, their eyes met.

Qin Jiangzhi felt that something unsettling was lurking in the way He Rongchuan was looking at him.

Sure enough, the next second He Rongchuan gave Wen Xu an order while staring at Qin Jiangzhi:

“Secretary Wen, take off Qin Jiangzhi’s clothes.”

He added one more condition:

“And do not untie him.”