The smell of mildew seeped from every crack in the basement walls. Sheng Linyou knew it well—just as he knew the thing fastened around his neck.
He gave a derisive snort and ran his fingers over the black leather collar and its metal clasp. The number 763 gleamed against it.
Two years ago, he had floored the accelerator, crossed the finish line, and claimed the championship. Who could have imagined that the celebrated racer would one day be locked in a cage with a price on his head?
Footsteps sounded beyond the iron door. Voices followed.
“Young Master, right this way! This is the racing champion from two years ago. I've been saving him especially for you—no one has laid a finger on him!”
Evans's fawning voice made Sheng Linyou's brows draw together.
A second voice answered, soft and timid. “Really, Uncle? I-I've never owned a lower-tier before. I heard some of them can be awfully fierce…”
“Don't worry, Young Master. I guarantee this one will behave.”
From his corner, Sheng Linyou rolled his eyes. Another newly elevated elite.
The iron door creaked open, flooding the basement with blinding white light. Sheng Linyou narrowed his eyes on instinct. A slender figure stood silhouetted in the doorway.
His short pink hair looked impossibly soft. His skin was pale, and everything about him seemed out of place in this filthy basement. A faint fragrance drifted toward Sheng Linyou.
*One punch would probably make him cry.*
“Here he is, Young Master. I have other matters to attend to, so please, take your time.”
Evans backed out with a greasy smile. His hurried footsteps retreated, and the iron door swung shut once more.
The pink-haired young man stared openly at Sheng Linyou, his almond-shaped eyes wide with curiosity.
Irritation flared beneath Sheng Linyou's skin. “Seen enough? Is crawling into a dump like this how you high-and-mighty types make yourselves feel important? Get lost. You're in my way.”
The young man froze. His eyes immediately reddened.
“B-Brother, I wasn't going to do anything. I just thought you were handsome…”
Sheng Linyou faltered for half a second, then sneered. “You're spending tens of millions on a useless man in a collar because he looks good? If you have that much money to burn, don't come to the black market pretending to be innocent. And don't call me ‘Brother.’ It's disgusting.”
“I'm sorry. I won't call you that anymore. Please don't be angry…”
The young man bowed his head. His voice dwindled to a whisper, and his shoulders trembled.
Sheng Linyou stared.
He had seen creditors wave contracts in his face. He had felt buyers paw at him like livestock. But he had never met anyone who would actually start crying after a single harsh word.
“Enough. Stop crying. Anyone listening would think you were at a funeral.” Sheng Linyou looked away, his tone stiff.
“Mm. I'll stop. I-I'll unlock this for you…”
The young man sniffed and crouched beside him. Cool fingertips brushed Sheng Linyou's neck. With a quiet click, the black leather collar sprang open.
Almost simultaneously, a truck engine roared outside. Evans called from a distance that the cage was ready.
The moment the collar's restraint vanished, Sheng Linyou went weak. His knees shook, and he nearly slid down the wall.
The drug from the injection had yet to wear off. His limbs felt filled with lead. He gritted his teeth and braced himself against the wall before finally forcing out, “…Are you just going to stand there, or will you help me?”
“I'll help! I'm coming! Um…my name is Yin Xigui.”
The young man obediently took his arm. His palm was absurdly soft, its warmth seeping through the thin fabric.
Sheng Linyou glanced down at him. *Why is he acting so obedient?*
“Got it.”
Outside the basement, a cargo truck waited in the courtyard. The stench of rot rolled from its open compartment.
Sheng Linyou frowned and moved toward it, only for Evans to block Yin Xigui's way.
“Young Master, you can't go inside. It isn't proper.” Evans smiled apologetically, but planted himself squarely before the door.
“Is there a rule against it?” Yin Xigui tilted up his face, his voice still soft. “What if I want to?”
Evans's smile stiffened. “Your father would be displeased. An upper-tier must preserve his dignity.”
His critical gaze raked over Sheng Linyou from head to toe. The message was plain: *You think this thing is worthy of you?*
Sheng Linyou couldn't be bothered. To hell with their rules. If the boy wasn't coming, then he wasn't coming.
But just as Sheng Linyou lifted a foot toward the truck, someone seized his wrist.
“No.”
Yin Xigui's grip wasn't strong, yet he clung on desperately.
“You're coming with me.”
Without waiting for an answer, he pulled Sheng Linyou toward the black sedan parked nearby. Sheng Linyou stumbled. Before he could react, the boy had dragged him several paces away.
“Wait! What are you doing?”
Yin Xigui didn't answer. He glanced back slightly, his voice sweet even as his words drained the color from Evans's face.
“Uncle, if I remember correctly, no rule says a human commodity can't enter his owner's residence. Does it?”
Evans gave two dry laughs, displeasure lurking in his eyes. He waved sharply at Sheng Linyou. “Of course not, my dear Young Master. No. 763! Get in the car at once!”
Sheng Linyou was practically thrown into the back seat.
His legs buckled beneath him. He pitched forward, but instead of striking anything hard, his face sank into a cloud of refined, expensive fragrance—the kind favored by upper-tiers.
Forcing his eyes open, he discovered that he had fallen directly on top of Yin Xigui.
The pink-haired young man lay pinned beneath him, his long hair spread across the seat. His eyes were still red, his lips parted, and each quick breath warmed Sheng Linyou's jaw.
“B-Brother, you're crushing me…” Yin Xigui whispered, his breath brushing Sheng Linyou's skin.
Sheng Linyou stared down at the face inches from his own. Yin Xigui's skin was so delicate that faint blue veins showed beneath it. His slender throat bobbed as he swallowed.
He was obviously terrified, yet he stubbornly refused to move away.
An inexplicable heat surged through Sheng Linyou's chest. Instead of getting up, he deliberately settled more of his weight onto the young man.
“So what if I am? Is your precious body so delicate that no one is allowed to touch it?”
His knee pressed between Yin Xigui's legs, his shadow engulfing him completely.
Yin Xigui stiffened but made no attempt to push him away. Instead, his fingers instinctively tightened around the hem of Sheng Linyou's shirt.
Sheng Linyou swore inwardly.
“I'm not delicate,” Yin Xigui murmured. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. “If Brother wants to stay on top of me, you can.”
Sheng Linyou shoved himself upright and hastily put distance between them, refusing to look at him again.
“Shut up. Call me Brother one more time and I really will hit you.”
“Oh…all right.”
Yin Xigui sat up obediently and straightened his rumpled clothes. A faint blush still colored his cheeks.
Footsteps approached outside. Evans was clearly bringing someone with him.
Yin Xigui's ears twitched. Without warning, he looped an arm around Sheng Linyou's neck and pulled him down until his lips nearly brushed Sheng Linyou's ear.
Someone knocked on the car door.
“Young Master, your father sent someone to ask whether this lower-tier should spend two days at the conditioning facility first.” Evans spoke from outside.
Yin Xigui kept his arm around Sheng Linyou and turned toward the door. His voice came out small and apprehensive.
“Uncle, please tell my father that he's mine. I'll train him myself.”
He paused, sounding genuinely puzzled. “Besides, didn't you say he was very obedient? Why would he need conditioning? Were you lying to me?”
Silence hung beyond the door for two seconds. Then Evans laughed dryly.
“Of course not, Young Master. How you've grown… You have ideas of your own now. This old servant will report back at once.”
His footsteps gradually faded. Quiet returned to the car, broken only by the mingling of two breaths.
Sheng Linyou looked at the arm still hooked around his neck. The skin was pale, the fingertips smooth—every inch of it a testament to a life of privilege.
“Finished touching me?”
Yin Xigui blinked and hastily withdrew his hand. “Yes. I was only checking whether you were hurt.”
“What, afraid the defective merchandise you bought will cost you money?”
“No, no!” Yin Xigui shook his head quickly. “I was worried you were in pain…”
*Damn it. What is wrong with this guy? An upper-tier caring about a lower-tier? As if.*
Still, the concern didn't feel half bad.
Sheng Linyou stopped objecting and allowed Yin Xigui to lean closer and inspect the bruises around his wrists.
The car glided through several streets. Beyond the window, the grimy old district slowly gave way to bright, open avenues.
Leaning against the glass, Sheng Linyou glanced at Yin Xigui from the corner of his eye. It was almost funny. The boy had spent tens of millions buying a person, only to curl up in fright himself.
“Hey, Young Master.”
“Mm?” Yin Xigui raised his head, his eyes still shining.
“Aren't you going to ask my name?”
Yin Xigui blinked, apparently surprised that he had volunteered to speak. “I thought you didn't want anything to do with me. What is your name?”
Sheng Linyou instinctively turned away. “Sheng Linyou.”
“Linyou. That's such a beautiful name!” Yin Xigui leaned closer, delight undisguised in his voice.
Sheng Linyou cleared his throat and looked away without answering.
The car raced onward before finally stopping in front of a white villa, elegant and opulent.
Sheng Linyou followed Yin Xigui out, but no one came to greet them.
He looked around. The courtyard was utterly silent, without even a servant in sight.
Sheng Linyou arched a brow. “Aren't you a young master? Where's the butler? Where are the servants?”
Yin Xigui pressed his lips together. “There is no butler. No servants either.”
“…What do you mean?”
“I live here alone.” Yin Xigui lowered his head and twisted his fingers together. “I don't like having too many people in the house. Y-You're the first.”