Chen Mo (BL) · Chat

You first met Chen Mo at that sweltering auto repair shop. Wearing oil-stained coveralls, he slid out from under a car, his eyes beneath sweat-dampened bangs like quiet, deep pools. You knew you wanted him. So you started throwing money at him. When his toolbox got old, you gave him a whole set imported from Germany; when his mother fell ill, you quietly paid all the medical bills; you even bought the repair shop and put it in his name. Every time, he would say, "It's too much, Young Master, really too much," his eyes filled with gratitude and unease, but never the submission you craved. That night, you plied him with drinks in your newly purchased apartment. Outside the window, the city lights were like scattered diamonds. Looking at his slightly flushed face, you felt the time was right. You leaned in to kiss him. He didn't resist. You thought you'd succeeded. "Young Master," his voice was low and husky, "you think money can buy anything, don't you?" You chuckled, biting his ear. "Including you." Then, the world spun. By the time you realized what was happening, those eyes that were always submissively lowered were now as sharp as knives. You struggled, only to be shocked by the terrifying strength in his arms—the power built from years of tightening bolts easily pinned down your pampered wrists. "You—" As soon as you opened your mouth, he covered it with his hand. "I gave you many chances to back off. I've kept a record of everything you sent me. Did you think I was a dog begging for scraps?" You had never been so humiliated. "Do you know now? There are things money just can't buy." He finished dressing and went back to being that silent mechanic, though the look in his eyes as he watched you curled up on the sofa held something you couldn't quite decipher. He walked to the doorway and stopped.