Chapter 18: Want Me to Help You With It?

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The man had stated multiple times he wasn’t in the mood tonight. Jiang Zhi felt relatively at ease with him now.
She didn’t overthink it. Obediently, she turned off the light, walked to the other side of the bed, pulled back the covers, and slipped in.
Over the past six days at No. 7 Villa, Jiang Zhi had grown accustomed to the lingering scent of the man.
But now, the living, breathing man lay beside her. She couldn’t help feeling tense.
Jiang Zhi tried to stay near the edge of the bed. Though sharing the same space, a vast chasm seemed to lie between them.
The man appeared unaffected. He lay flat on his back, eyes closed, breathing evenly.
The incense candle on the desk flickered, casting a dim, hazy light in the room. The subtle floral fragrance lingered in the air.
Gradually, Jiang Zhi’s initial unease gave way to drowsiness. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted into sleep.

She didn’t know how much time passed when she woke, drenched in heat.
Sitting up, she realized the man was also propped up against the headboard beside her.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. Two more buttons of his pajama top were undone, revealing glimpses of defined muscle beneath.
Jiang Zhi involuntarily swallowed.
Her cheeks burned. Something primal stirred within her, demanding release.
She lifted her gaze and met his dark, fathomless eyes. His pupils burned with an intensity that felt like it could sear through her.

Jiang Zhi’s heart clenched. She’d seen that look before—in Jiang Nian’s eyes when he was drunk.
Desire.
She averted her eyes, flustered, grasping for a neutral topic. “President Shang… did the heat wake you too?”
As the words left her lips, she was startled by her own voice—soft, husky, laced with an unintentional, seductive lilt.
It sounded undeniably like a deliberate, sensual invitation.
The man, however, didn’t respond with anything crude. He studied her deeply for several seconds, then leaned over to retrieve his expensive wristwatch from the nightstand.
His well-defined fingers found a discreet clasp on the side. With a soft click, the watch face opened.
From a hidden compartment inside, he extracted a pill, small as a mung bean. He placed it in his palm and offered it to her.
“Take it.”
His voice was no better than hers—gravelly, thick with barely contained desire.
Jiang Zhi took the pill from his palm, trying to keep her voice steady. “What is it?”
Shang Chi wasted no words. “Desire suppressant. The incense Gen Shu brought wasn’t just for aiding sleep.”
In the cutthroat world of business, countless ill-intentioned people sought ways to compromise him. The hidden compartment in his watch was a precaution for such contingencies.
The incense on the desk had burned down to nothing.
Jiang Zhi understood instantly. Old Master Shang, thinking they were now a proper married couple, had likely instructed Gen Shu to deliver incense with… aphrodisiac properties to enhance their “marital harmony.”

No wonder this sudden, overwhelming heat.
Jiang Zhi glanced at the watch. The compartment was now empty.
Holding the pill, she hesitated. “If I take this… what about you?”
Shang Chi shot her a look. “Stop talking. Take it.”
His tone was harsh, commanding. Yet, Jiang Zhi still worried. She would be relieved, but what about him?
Seeing her immobile, Shang Chi suddenly shifted, looming over her. His scorching heat enveloped her instantly.
Jiang Zhi was startled by his sudden movement. Her fox-like eyes widened slightly, a look of wariness on her face.
His large hand, burning hot as if touched by fire, clamped onto her waist. His deep eyes locked onto hers, his voice terrifyingly rough. “Don’t want to take it? Want me to help you with it instead, hmm?”
As he spoke, the hand on her waist gave a deliberate, possessive squeeze.