A pair of hands lingered on his shoulders for a few seconds before pulling him into an embrace. A restrained kiss descended, and he could feel the scorching heat of those palms. The man wore a black suit, his face a blur—a complete stranger. Qi Bailu heard him ask a question, and after a long, dazed moment, he finally made out the words: *Will you come with me?*
*Go where? Why should I go?*
He struggled to see the man clearly. The figure seemed to smile. Qi Bailu jolted, seizing the man’s hand, desperate to glimpse his face. At that exact moment, the dream shattered.
Qi Bailu opened his eyes halfway, reaching out from under the covers to grope around the pillow until he found his phone. The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out all light; for a moment, he couldn't tell if it was day or night. He checked his phone—it was already noon. Having slept so long, his head throbbed with a dizzying ache.
Groggy, he checked his messages and saw a "Goodnight" sent earlier by Ruan Qiuji. After returning last night, he had exchanged a few words with Ruan but had fallen asleep before replying to the question: *When are you going to Beijing?* Qi Bailu scrolled up through the chat history, but before he could process anything, a chilling voice suddenly rang out from the side of the bed.
"Did you have fun last night?"
Qi Bailu jolted into full wakefulness, half out of fright and half out of shock. In the next second, he clicked his phone screen off and turned over beneath the quilt. Propping himself up with his hands, he slowly sat up. Zheng Kunyu was sitting on the other side of the bed, his back to Qi Bailu. Hearing the rustle of movement, Zheng Kunyu turned his head, his gaze slanting toward Qi Bailu. His expression was indistinct in the dim room, but his eyes held an invisible, heavy force.
Zheng Kunyu was still wearing his overcoat, his hands neatly gloved. He reached out and patted the mattress beside him—a silent command for Qi Bailu to come closer. But Qi Bailu didn't move. He only asked, "When did you get back?"
"This morning."
"Why didn't you say something in advance?" Qi Bailu’s voice sounded remarkably steady.
Zheng Kunyu turned his body a bit further, his voice slow. "You didn't answer my question."
"...I did."
"Because you went out alone with Ruan Qiuji?" Zheng Kunyu didn't smile, but his eyes held a hint of mocking, cruel amusement.
"We just had a drink..."
Before he could finish, Zheng Kunyu suddenly raised his hand and flung something at his face. Qi Bailu instinctively closed his eyes as the objects struck him head-on; the sharp edges scraped against his skin with a sting. He opened his eyes to see a stack of photos fluttering down onto the quilt.
Qi Bailu glanced at Zheng Kunyu, then picked up one of the photos. It was a candid shot taken last night when Ruan Qiuji was walking him to the parking lot. The photo didn't show any overstepping of bounds, but their posture was undeniably intimate—heads bowed close, gazes meeting, every gesture carrying an indescribable ambiguity. Qi Bailu hadn't realized he looked like that at the time. Perhaps it was the alcohol from the night before, but his heart skipped a beat. He picked up another one. It was still the parking lot; Ruan Qiuji was leaning down, holding a lighter for his cigarette, while Qi Bailu held Ruan’s wrist with one hand and cupped his other hand to block the wind.
He scanned the remaining photos. They were all candid shots from the parking lot, and they were very clear. A paparazzi must have followed him last night. Since the photos were here, it meant Zheng Kunyu had already bought them off.
Qi Bailu set the photos down. "I'll be more careful next time."
This was a deflection, clearly not the point Zheng Kunyu cared about. Zheng Kunyu said, "Do you think I'm blind?"
Qi Bailu said nothing. He turned to switch on the bedside lamp. The light flared to life, pouring over the surroundings like clear, bright water. The glow illuminated Qi Bailu’s face and Zheng Kunyu’s cold eyes.
"There is nothing between him and me."
As Qi Bailu spoke, he picked up the photos one by one and stacked them neatly on the nightstand. He kept his head down, the patch of fair skin on the back of his neck looking like white mutton-fat jade under the lamp.
The hand Zheng Kunyu had placed on the bedsheet slowly retracted. He stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed. Qi Bailu froze, instinctively shrinking back, but Zheng Kunyu yanked the quilt away and seized his hand. His movements were rough, forcibly dragging Qi Bailu up from the headboard.
Qi Bailu looked at him with uncertainty and alarm, thinking he wanted to do it right then. But Zheng Kunyu merely grabbed both of his arms and pulled him forward, saying coldly, "Get down."
At those words, Qi Bailu looked down to find his slippers while trying to pull his hands free, but Zheng Kunyu only gripped him tighter. His slippers must have been kicked under the bed. His wrists ached, and he couldn't help but soften his tone, looking up at him. "Zheng Kunyu, let go of me first."
He rarely addressed him by his full name like this, and his tone was supple, tinged with a hint of a grievance. It was the kind of thing that usually moved a heart. In the past, when Qi Bailu called him this way, Zheng Kunyu would always soften. Today, however, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Zheng Kunyu pinched his arms and leaned down until their faces were inches apart. "It must be hard for you, acting for me like this."
Since Zheng Kunyu had put it that way, Qi Bailu’s expression darkened. Zheng Kunyu gave him a sudden, violent tug, and Qi Bailu stumbled off the bed. He didn't know what Zheng Kunyu was planning, so he had no choice but to be pushed along, step by step, barefoot. Zheng Kunyu’s hand was at the small of his back. When they reached the large full-length mirror, Zheng Kunyu shoved him forward. Qi Bailu’s body slammed against the cold glass, his face pressed against it. They came to a halt.
The switch for the ceiling light was right next to the mirror. Zheng Kunyu slapped the wall, and the chandelier above flared to life, illuminating everything in the room with stark clarity. Qi Bailu propped his hands against the tall, oval mirror, steadying himself as he stood back up. Looking at the reflection of himself and Zheng Kunyu, he asked, "What are you doing?"
Zheng Kunyu’s mood was volatile; there were no obvious signs of rage on his face, but usually, the calmer he appeared, the closer he was to a total fury. He stripped off his gloves and tossed them at Qi Bailu’s feet. Stepping forward, he gripped Qi Bailu’s throat, forcing him to lean back into his chest, and began unbuttoning Qi Bailu’s pajamas.
Qi Bailu was wearing a two-piece plaid set, every button fastened perfectly. They stood facing the mirror. The moment Zheng Kunyu touched the first button, Qi Bailu grabbed his hand firmly. "Zheng Kunyu!"
Zheng Kunyu’s fingers at his throat brushed against the roots of his hair. Hearing his name, he didn't loosen his grip; instead, he grabbed the collar and yanked it hard, then pressed a scalding kiss onto Qi Bailu’s collarbone. Qi Bailu tilted his neck to dodge, and Zheng Kunyu easily popped the button.
His fingertips slid down against the skin, searching for the second button. Qi Bailu twisted his head, trying to see his face, but Zheng Kunyu only stared at the mirror as he undid the third and fourth, until Qi Bailu’s entire chest was exposed. His gaze roved over Qi Bailu’s body as he grabbed the back of the pajama top and let it slide off his shoulders.
The garment was pulled down his arms and tossed lightly to the floor, the two empty sleeves overlapping.
Zheng Kunyu placed his hand on Qi Bailu’s back, slowly tracing downward. Qi Bailu whispered into his ear, "Is this what you want?"
"Do you really know what I want?" Zheng Kunyu’s voice was deep and indifferent.
Qi Bailu moved to strip the rest himself, but Zheng Kunyu caught his hands. Zheng Kunyu wanted to do it himself. Like dressing a beloved doll, he stripped Qi Bailu bare. Qi Bailu looked at his own body in the mirror, and Zheng Kunyu watched him too. His eyes behind his glasses were sharp—it wasn't so much an act of humiliation as it was an inspection mixed with appreciation, toy-like fascination, and predatory conquest, along with a jealous hatred that wanted to strip him to the bone.
"Letting her finish her dance... you really have done many 'good deeds' behind my back."
Qi Bailu’s eyes flickered. Zheng Kunyu touched his elbow and raised one of his arms, looking like a tango partner supporting a dancer from behind. Zheng Kunyu quickly let go and turned Qi Bailu’s body around to face him, leaving his back to the mirror.
At this moment, Qi Bailu understood his intention. He was checking him.
Qi Bailu had a scarring constitution; even a slight pinch would leave a red mark. Zheng Kunyu knew every inch of his body better than anyone. If there were any marks he didn't recognize, he would know instantly.
Qi Bailu lifted his chin to look at him, saying flatly, "Sorry to disappoint you."
Zheng Kunyu pressed closer, forcing Qi Bailu back against the mirror until his body was flush with the glass. The watery surface of the mirror trembled. Zheng Kunyu leaned his head down. "I knew he didn't have the guts. And you certainly don't."
At this, Qi Bailu actually let out a mocking hum, a cold, stubborn glint in his eyes. Zheng Kunyu cupped his face, his lips a hair’s breadth from Qi’s. Zheng Kunyu seemed to be waiting for something, but after a long time, Qi Bailu didn't move. Since Qi Bailu was indeed "clean," Zheng Kunyu’s anger seemed to gradually dissipate. He said helplessly, "It’s been two years. Why do you still have this temper?"
If Zheng Kunyu hadn't said that, it might have been fine, but Qi Bailu’s body went rigid. His eyes shifted upward, staring at Zheng Kunyu for a moment before he said slowly, "He likes me."
Zheng Kunyu’s gaze instantly darkened, weighing whether Qi Bailu was telling the truth. Qi Bailu seemed to be intentionally testing and provoking him; his inner self was so wild and untamable.
"Do you know what I think?" Qi Bailu gently stroked Zheng Kunyu’s arm. As if afraid he wouldn't hear clearly, he emphasized each word: "What does it matter who I sell myself to?"
The atmosphere around Zheng Kunyu plummeted. His eyes burned with a deep, profound fury. His hand suddenly exerted force, slamming Qi Bailu’s head and neck back against the mirror with a loud *thud*. Zheng Kunyu snarled, "Are you really that cheap?"
Qi Bailu stared at him, his eyes wet and bright. He whispered, "Is being liked by you considered cheap?"
His soft hair pressed against the mirror. Qi Bailu lowered his head slightly, and his reflection followed suit, like ripples fading on the surface of a lake. For reasons unknown, Zheng Kunyu withdrew his hand. He didn't touch Qi Bailu again, merely standing there in silence. A moment later, he calmly adjusted his glasses, his eyes turning elsewhere as if searching for something. His search was aimless, as if the two of them were standing in a vast, thick fog.
"Overestimating yourself is a foolish thing."
After dropping that line, Zheng Kunyu left Qi Bailu behind and walked out.
***
