The robe had fallen open some now that he was on his back. When it had fallen open during that first appointment, it had been seductive, alluring—but now it revealed something much different: a dark purple bruise that started at his collarbone and spread out over his chest. It looked like he’d been hit by a truck.

Weiran snatched his hand away. “Xiaokai?”

“Just go to sleep,” Xiaokai whispered. “If you stay awake any longer, I’m going to want to have sex again, and I don’t think you’re up for that.”

Weiran’s eyes just kept lingering on that dark purple bruise. How far did it spread? Where the hell had it come from? He’d been peppered with bruises before—Weiran wasn’t so clueless that he hadn’t seen them—but this was worse. This was a lot worse.

He reached out again, but still couldn’t touch him, still couldn’t offer any kind of comfort.

I never want this to happen to you again, he thought. I never want you to have bruises ever again. His throat closed.

I’ll protect you, he wanted to say. I’ll protect you no matter what it takes. But the words wouldn’t come out, and he knew that Xiaokai wouldn’t accept them anyway. He would just have to say them in his head, in his heart, over and over, until he couldn’t think of anything else.

I’ll protect you, Xiaokai.

IN THE MORNING, he woke to an empty bed with a note on the nightstand next to him, written in perfect English script: “Let’s take a break from this.” Weiran crushed the paper in his palm.

HE PEILIN DIDN’T say much when Young Master Liu called him to pick him up at the hotel, but that wasn’t necessarily out of the norm. The young master was the sort of man who didn’t want commentary—didn’t want comfort. He wanted only the knowledge that He Peilin was present and loyal.

He Peilin still wanted to ask questions, however; he and Huang Fei’er had been worriedly communicating the last week about where their young master could be, despite Director Sun and President Liu firmly telling them at the beginning that it was nothing they needed to worry about (and stop asking questions, it’s not your place), and he wanted to make sure the young master didn’t need more help than he could give him.

“Just take me back to the house.”

“Yes, sir.” He Peilin started the car, glancing at the young master in the mirror.

“Just ask what you want to ask,” said the young master, rubbing his face. “You’ve been working for me long enough that you’ve earned that right.”

He Peilin decided to just go ahead and ask. “Do I need to take you to the hospital, sir?”