After the crowd shifted their attention to Ruan Qiuji and a new topic began, Qi Bailu suddenly stood up. He murmured a brief "Excuse me, I need to use the restroom." The male actor to his left hesitated, making a slight gesture as if to steady him, but withdrew his hand when he saw that Qi Bailu’s steps were relatively stable. Pan Xiaoyan tried to call out to him, but Qi Bailu had already hurried to the door.
The restaurant’s private dining room was opulently decorated. As Qi Bailu pushed open the carved wooden door, a waiter immediately stepped forward to close it behind him and ask if he needed anything. Qi Bailu told him, and the waiter gestured down the hall. "Just straight down the corridor."
The moment he reached the restroom, Qi Bailu pushed into a stall, flipped up the toilet lid, and threw up. He had a slight intolerance to alcohol; whenever he drank too much, he always ended up vomiting. Because he had pushed the door open so hurriedly, the panel had swung back and struck his shin, but he didn't seem to feel the pain. After a moment, the sound of the flush echoed in the stall, and he walked to the vanity to wash his hands.
The water seemed to dilute the scent of alcohol on his breath and body. Qi Bailu looked at his hands braced against the edge of the sink; his fingers were actually trembling slightly. Unsurprised, he reached into the pocket of his denim jacket and pulled out a small medicine bottle. He tilted it into his cupped palm. One pill rolled out and fell to the floor, but he ignored it, swallowing the rest of the medication in his hand in one go.
Three large mirrors were mounted on the wall, reflecting the restroom door directly opposite the vanity. Qi Bailu had just tucked the bottle away when he saw another person in the mirror. Ruan Qiuji was leaning against the doorframe, though it was impossible to tell how long he had been standing there. Qi Bailu steadied his nerves and slowly turned around.
Ruan Qiuji gazed into his eyes and asked, "What did you just take?"
Qi Bailu’s hands were still damp. He reached out to tear off a paper towel, drying his hands with downcast eyes. "A throat lozenge," he said steadily.
Ruan Qiuji’s gaze shifted downward, landing on the small, round pill on the floor. He walked over, half-crouched, and picked it up. Qi Bailu’s movements paused. Ruan Qiuji held the pill between his fingers, studying it for a moment before looking up at him. "A throat lozenge?" he repeated.
Qi Bailu said nothing. Ruan Qiuji walked straight toward him and reached for the pocket of the denim jacket, where the white cap of the medicine bottle was partially visible. Qi Bailu grabbed his hand to stop him. Ruan Qiuji’s movements weren't violent, but they carried significant force. He gripped the hem of Qi Bailu’s jacket with one hand and pulled the bottle out with an air of non-negotiable authority, then held it up to the wall lamp to read the tiny, dense print on the label.
Qi Bailu felt a surge of frustration, waiting to see what Ruan Qiuji would do. However, after Ruan Qiuji finished reading, he simply stuffed the bottle back into the pocket. "Actors really are the best liars," he said calmly.
"Don't ask me anything," Qi Bailu warned, leaning in slightly.
His tone was a bit sharp—the kind of boldness that only came after drinking. Though his face was still covered in stage makeup, his ears and neck were flushed a soft pink. Ruan Qiuji looked at his eyes beneath the brim of the baseball cap, his smile carrying a touch of well-meaning mockery. "If I asked, would you even tell me the truth?"
Qi Bailu lowered his gaze. The alcohol had left him lightheaded; he had to exert great effort to keep his thoughts straight. The conclusion of those thoughts was that the man was too close. Ruan Qiuji’s arm was brushing against his own. If he lifted his head, the brim of his hat would hit the bridge of Ruan Qiuji’s nose.
Back at the dinner table, he had almost thought their date at the skating rink yesterday was nothing but a fleeting dream. What was this now?
Amidst the mingling scents of alcohol, Qi Bailu grabbed the man's arm and asked, "Do you have a cigarette?"
Though Ruan Qiuji looked at him with disapproval, he still opened his cigarette case and handed him one—the same blue-filtered brand as before. Qi Bailu held the cigarette between his lips, waiting expectantly for a lighter. Ruan Qiuji was about to light it for him but then lowered his hand, gesturing with his chin toward the "No Smoking" sign on the opposite wall.
Qi Bailu was deeply disappointed. Ruan Qiuji took the cigarette from his mouth and put it back in the case. "It’s time to go back."
"I don't want to go back."
"Then where do you want to go?" Ruan Qiuji waited patiently, his tone even softening slightly.
"I want to go back to the hotel."
"Shall I call your manager to go with you?"
Qi Bailu was caught in a dilemma. He could walk away regardless of social niceties, but Cheng Wenhui couldn't. Ruan Qiuji seemed to make up his mind. "Let's go." Qi Bailu stood there watching him. Ruan Qiuji added, "Let's go sit downstairs for a bit."
"What's downstairs?" Qi Bailu asked as he followed him. It couldn't possibly be another skating rink.
"That's a good question."
Qi Bailu didn't know if he was being mysterious or if he truly didn't know. In fact, Ruan Qiuji had simply noticed a bar on the first floor when they arrived but hadn't gone in.
The staff helped them with their coats, and they took the elevator to the first floor. The bar was named "La Porte étroite." True to its name, the door was narrow and small; they almost missed it. Pushing through the door and crossing an equally narrow corridor, they found a hidden world inside. Since the bar had only opened two days ago, it was quiet and lacked foot traffic; they were the only customers tonight.
The place was rare in its tranquility, even featuring a separate open-air courtyard that would likely be more interesting in the summer. They didn't go outside, instead sitting side-by-side at the high bar counter facing the liquor cabinet. Seeing customers, the bartender gave a casual greeting and asked what they wanted. Ruan Qiuji looked at Qi Bailu and pushed the drink menu toward him. Naturally, Qi Bailu couldn't drink any more alcohol, so he ordered orange juice. Ruan Qiuji closed the menu and ordered orange juice as well.
The bartender hadn't expected them to come here just for that, and his expression was one of slight surprise. Qi Bailu seemed exhausted. As soon as the bartender left, he took off his scarf and slumped halfway onto the bar, burying his face in the crook of his arm. Ruan Qiuji faced Qi Bailu, propping his arm on the counter. He pulled out his cigarette case and lit one for himself first, then asked politely, "Want one?"
Without a word, Qi Bailu lifted his head and pulled the clean crystal ashtray toward him, then leaned in to light his cigarette from Ruan Qiuji’s hand. The bar was dim to begin with, and Qi Bailu’s baseball cap obscured half his face. Only in the moment the flame flickered did Ruan Qiuji see those beautiful eyes clearly.
Qi Bailu looked around. Since the other booths were empty, only a small wall lamp by the liquor cabinet was lit. The round tables, painted red, sat lonely in the darkness. The orange juice was served quickly. The bartender set down the glasses and left again, perhaps disliking the second-hand smoke they were creating.
The orange juice looked bright and golden in the large glasses, exceptionally vivid in the dim environment. Neither of them was in a hurry to drink. Ruan Qiuji held his cigarette between his fingers, taking only an occasional puff, but Qi Bailu smoked heavily. Whether it was the medication taking effect or not, Ruan Qiuji felt that he seemed much more emotionally stable.
Qi Bailu turned toward Ruan Qiuji, his body shifting with the movement until their knees touched. Qi Bailu hesitated, wanting to move away, but felt that doing so would look too deliberate, so he remained as he was. "Thank you for tonight," he said. He didn't specify what he was thanking him for—perhaps for diffusing the situation at the table, perhaps for the cigarette, or perhaps for taking him away from that suffocating dinner party.
Ruan Qiuji stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, his gaze landing on Qi Bailu’s face. He asked impassively, "How are you going to thank me?"
Though his tone was calm, Qi Bailu felt something very specific hidden within it. Qi Bailu exhaled his last puff of smoke and dropped the butt into the ashtray. "I have nothing. I have nothing to give you."
Ruan Qiuji leaned in slightly, placing his fingers palm-up against Qi Bailu’s chin, signaling for him to lift his head. His hand was very warm. Qi Bailu felt a flutter of panic at the gesture, but he tilted his head back nonetheless. The dim yellow light from the wall lamp spilled over the wooden bar with a faint sheen, casting shadows across their faces. Ruan Qiuji watched him for a few seconds, then smiled. "How about a kiss?"
Before Qi Bailu could speak, Ruan Qiuji lowered his head and pressed his lips gently against his cheek. After the kiss, Ruan Qiuji pulled back just a fraction, his eyes fixed on Qi Bailu’s lips. Qi Bailu’s heart was pounding so hard he couldn't speak, but he could see that if he didn't say something now, Ruan Qiuji would kiss him on the mouth. Thus, just as Ruan Qiuji moved to kiss his lips, Qi Bailu turned his face away and whispered, "You know about my relationship with Zheng Kunyu."
The most difficult thing to say had finally been voiced. In this place and at this time, Qi Bailu didn't dare—and didn't want—to see Ruan Qiuji’s expression. He didn't understand how Ruan Qiuji could constantly ignore Zheng Kunyu’s existence as if nothing were wrong, when he had clearly known from the very beginning.
Only their breathing filled the silence by the bar. If one listened closely, there was also the sound of the bartender washing glasses in the back and the clinking of glassware.
Ruan Qiuji replied, "I know."
Qi Bailu grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away. Ruan Qiuji didn't resist, continuing in that same tone, "Bailu, you have a choice."
Qi Bailu looked up, meeting his gaze once more. Ruan Qiuji appeared perfectly composed, yet there was something very, very heavy shimmering in his eyes. Several thoughts flashed through Qi Bailu’s mind in an instant, but in the end, he only shook his head.
"Are you content with this?"
Qi Bailu never expected him to ask such a question. While tracing the edge of the bar with his finger, he gazed quietly at Ruan Qiuji’s face. As if to show Ruan Qiuji his sincerity, his thoughts were slow and his voice steady. Qi Bailu said, "I am indeed not content."
After a brief pause, Qi Bailu added, "But it won't be you, either."
He rejected him so decisively that it caught Ruan Qiuji off guard. Ruan Qiuji showed no frustration at being rejected, simply asking, "Why?"
"Because you are the same kind of person as him."
"Isn't it a bit early to reach a conclusion?"
"Mr. Ruan can change his mind while there's still time."
"How cruel," Ruan Qiuji chuckled softly.
"I'm afraid you're even crueler than I am." Qi Bailu even managed a small smile, but it was fleeting and ethereal, like a shooting star. He wore no mask now, showing Ruan Qiuji the most stubborn, hardened parts of his inner self.
Ruan Qiuji didn't mind the assessment. He reached for his orange juice. "Want to make a bet?"
Qi Bailu wouldn't fall for his trap. He also reached for his juice. "I'm not betting with you."
Since he had said so, Ruan Qiuji smiled and let the matter drop.
After such a conversation, a strange trace of tenderness remained between them, allowing them to still coexist in peace. The flowing ambiguity from moments ago slowly melted into the air. They brought their glasses to their lips almost simultaneously. The glasses had no straws, so they had to tilt their heads back slightly to drink. After taking a sip, Qi Bailu looked at Ruan Qiuji’s face, and Ruan Qiuji did the same. They watched each other, but neither was the first to set the glass down.
Until Ruan Qiuji frowned, and then Qi Bailu frowned as well. At that, Qi Bailu quickly set his glass down and glared at him. Ruan Qiuji suppressed a laugh. Qi Bailu wiped the corner of his mouth with his finger, muttering as if to himself, "How can it be this sour?"
"I thought you could hold it in."
How could he! Qi Bailu gave him a look and went back to studying the glass. He had never had orange juice this sour in his life. He feared it was so tart that every time he drank orange juice in the future, he would remember this glass from tonight.
***
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Countless Blossoms: The Actor's Gamble | Chapter 23 | A Sour Kiss | Novela.app | Novela.app
