【Chapter One: Ambiguity Flowing from the Fingertips】

Taipei's Ximending, a neon-flashing, noisy night, always hides secrets and desires no one knows about.

That night, the rain-soaked streets gleamed with a damp light. Young handsome Ah-Yao had just finished a day's work, wearing a tight white T-shirt and gym shorts, his six-pack faintly visible. He walked down the alley behind the Red House as his phone kept buzzing with messages.

"It's really busy tonight. I booked you an extra client—do your best ❤️" was the message from the shop manager.

Ah-Yao was the shop's most popular gay massage therapist, twenty years old, clean-cut and good-looking, with a gentle technique that carried a hint of ambiguity—he was the regulars' top pick. He didn't talk about feelings, only cash.

Until that night, when he received a booking.

The location was a high-end hotel in Ximending, the appointment details clear—no photos, no small talk, only a name left: "Mr. Chen."

When the room door opened, a presence familiar yet out of place washed over him. The man was around fifty, impeccably suited, a Rolex catching the light on his finger. He was Chen Yuanxing, chairman of a well-known company, a man long married with a family.

"You're Ah-Yao?"

Ah-Yao nodded, his expression the usual calm professionalism. He was used to this kind of client—seemingly proper but actually hungry.

But this time was different.

Chen didn't rush to pounce; he just watched him quietly, then said softly, "You're so young—don't you think this kind of work is a waste?"

Ah-Yao raised an eyebrow and smiled. "I've got a six-pack, time, and energy—why not make money? It's a lot faster than sitting in an office collecting a paycheck, isn't it?"

"What if I said I could help you find a legitimate job, one where you don't have to sell yourself—would you take it?"

Ah-Yao wanted to laugh, but the sentence pierced his chest like a needle.

And so their story began—
One was a young man addicted to the lure of money;
One was a middle-aged husband suppressing his true desire.
Each massage stopped being merely physical touch and became a test of emotions and a descent.

One night, in the middle of a massage, Ah-Yao suddenly kissed him.

"Didn't you say you only talked about money?"

"I don't know when it started, but I found myself thinking about you, not your money."

Melodrama ensued.
Mr. Chen's wife discovered the affair;
Ah-Yao's identity was exposed—recognized by a client;
He began to wonder whether he was the shop's star or just someone's plaything.

And love—would it be salvation, or a fall?


Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental.