Chapter 1 — Contract of Possession

When flipping through the terms of the contract, my eyes fell on a particular line: [Absolute non-interference in each other's personal lives.] I looked up at Feng Da, blinking as I asked, "So, am I allowed to date a boyfriend?" The noble, cold-gorgeously handsome man swept a sharp, piercing glance over me— Jet-black hair, fair skin, pitch-black eyes, a dainty floral nightgown, cloud-shaped fluffy slippers... I looked entirely obedient, perhaps a bit timid. Feng Da loosened the bath towel tied around his waist, walked toward the bathroom, and glanced back at me over his shoulder. "If you have the guts, go ahead and try." ... What a coincidence, as it turned out, I actually did have the guts.

I am a remarkably simple person. It is just that... I have a rather intense weakness for handsome men. My level of infatuation is probably around this magnitude—normally, I am as cowardly as a turtle pulling its head into its shell, yet I possessed the audacity to sign a contract with Feng Da. Money did not matter; what mattered was his physique. Broad shoulders, a slender waist, long legs, absolute perfection in every measurement, I was thoroughly satisfied with all of it. Even our preferences aligned seamlessly. What kind of preferences, you ask?

— One of the contract clauses: [Article 1: Inside the hotel, Xu Zhaoying must absolutely submit to Feng Da's control.]

It was delightfully simple. I only needed to lie back and enjoy. Where to look, how to position my legs, everything was dictated entirely by him. He conjured up endless games, ranging from what I had to wear in bed to precisely what I was supposed to say and at what exact moments.

— Oh heavens, I was essentially the epitome of a flawless, automated physiological plaything.

Over the weekend, inside the hotel bathroom where we always rendezvoused, a low, magnetic male voice echoed: "Be a good girl, lift your head and look at me." Ah, here it came again. I immediately raised my gaze, meeting his through the steam-fogged mirror with eyes glistening from sheer pleasure. Feng Da usually radiated an intimidating chill, but at this moment, the tips of his ears were stained a faint, lovely shade of red.

"Call me."

I parted my lips, my voice softening into a puddle: "Husband..." Feng Da was clearly exceedingly pleased with my docility, his eyes narrowing slightly. His hand wrapped around behind me, cupping my chin, his fingers lightly grazing against my lips.

"Bend down, tilt your head back a little... Yes, very good."

The swirling mist enveloped the room, and every time the mirror fogged up, Feng Da would command me to wipe it clean, forcing me to gaze at my own reflection. He was unmistakably deeply aroused. As for me, the stimulation was so intense that I could barely maintain my posture. Feng Da's hand struck sharply against my lower back.

"Did I give you permission?"

I bit my lip and shook my head. Feng Da spun me around, lifting me up to sit on the marble sink, his sharp gaze locking directly onto mine. "Speak." I propped my hands against his shoulders. His shoulders were truly broad, his muscles exquisitely sculpted. Lost in admiration for a single second, I blinked, whimpering, "Husband, I was wrong..." His voice was low and gravelly: "Where were you wrong?"

"Husband hadn't given the command yet... but I went ahead and indulged myself..."

Feng Da narrowed his eyes fractionally. "Knowing you're wrong yet doing it anyway—bow your head." I obediently complied, my lips instantly captured, and my entire body swept up and carried out of the bathroom.

Leaving the hotel behind, I climbed onto my modest little electric scooter and returned to the mundane routine of office life. Feng Da was a man of immense wealth, while I was merely an ordinary office worker. Apart from those fragmented moments of exquisite stimulation on the weekends, my weekdays were lived with strict discipline. Monday: go to work, leave work, eat, sleep. Tuesday: go to work, leave work, eat, watch a movie. Wednesday... Friday. Technically, I was supposed to head to the hotel to find Feng Da by evening. However, he made an unexpectedly early appearance at the company where I worked. When I carried a tray of tea into the conference room, Feng Da was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, the rimless glasses perched on the bridge of his nose catching the cold glare of the lights, making his aura more oppressive than ever. He was undoubtedly negotiating some major project—the kind of project where my boss smiled with sycophantic flattery to ingratiate himself. Tsk, that bald, pot-bellied boss of mine completely lacked a backbone. In bed, I never smiled at Feng Da like that.

"President Feng."

I placed the teacup on the table before him, keeping my eyes lowered, maintaining absolute professional decorum without sparing him so much as a single glance.

"Mmh."

Feng Da's voice resounded. That single cadence nearly induced an illusion in me, making me feel as though I were not in an office building, but back in the hotel room. After all, Feng Da loved giving commands above all else, and once I executed them correctly, he would respond with a low, deeply satisfied "mmh." I even secretly assigned him the nickname "The King of Mmh-Mmh." This inner musing compelled me to look up at him, accidentally catching his gaze from behind the lenses of his glasses. His eyes were slightly narrowed, his eyelashes lowered, radiating a cold, penetrating stare. It was precisely the same commanding gaze he wore in bed. What a wretched man. I refused to believe he wore that look in everyday life; he was definitely doing it on purpose. But I was far from foolish enough to voice my stray thoughts. I simply straightened up, offered a polite, professional smile, and turned to leave. When work ended, I was robbed of the chance to ride my beloved little electric scooter home. Instead, I found myself stepping into Feng Da's luxury car parked in the dimly lit underground garage. He had been waiting inside all along, his phone screen still displaying the text message he had just sent me, instructing me to come to him. The moment the car door closed, an arm banded around my waist, pulling me straight into his embrace. In the dim, ambient light, Feng Da leaned down and, without a single word, kissed me.

"Let go..."

Had we not clearly stipulated that outside the hotel, we were utter strangers? [Article 4: Outside the hotel, both parties are strangers to one another.] A sudden disturbance echoed from outside the car—the sound of another vehicle passing by, footsteps crunching on concrete. My heart fluttered with panic. No one knew about my entanglement with Feng Da. Everyone regarded me as an introverted, quiet office worker. No one was more demure than I was. I had no desire to be caught in such a compromising position and become the fodder for idle office gossip. Yet Feng Da acted as though he had lost all self-control from the kiss, ignoring every push and shove I offered, refusing to yield even an inch. Even a gentle person knows how to fight back when driven into a corner! Moisture welled up in my eyes. I must have looked thoroughly pitiful. Even as I swung my hand outward, landing a sharp slap squarely across his handsome, cold face, a tear spilled right over my lower eyelashes.

"Clap—"

Feng Da was a man raised in the lap of luxury, who had never once been struck by anyone in his entire life, not even by his own parents. Thus, that sudden slap brought an abrupt halt to his actions. Yet the look he cast my way was chillingly terrifying, as if he intended to tear me apart limb from limb. I drew in a ragged breath, my voice trembling slightly, playing the part of the ultimate obedient subordinate.

"Mr. Feng, according to the contract terms, we are strangers right now. We cannot do this..."

I knew full well that my slap would carry consequences. Therefore, I proactively wriggled off his lap, wiped my tears, popped open the car door, and hurried over to find my beloved little electric scooter. Riding my scooter away, I decided there would be no rendezvous this weekend. It did not matter; I simply refused to be seen by others, and there was nothing wrong with that slap. If rumors started circulating with headlines like, "The company's obedient employee, Xu Zhaoying, caught making out with a man in the underground parking garage..." I simply would not be able to bear the shame. Well... the direct consequence of that slap was that for an entire month, Feng Da made no attempt to contact me. It seemed he was genuinely furious. Given his intense need for control, he certainly could not stomach my defiance. I had a terrible foreboding. Most likely, solely because of that single slap, Feng Da was going to tear up our contract. But—it did not matter. What was it, after all, other than losing a plaything with a flawless body and face? What was it other than missing out on a bed partner with whom I shared incredible physical chemistry? It did not matter, it did not matter, it really did not matter at all!