Though he had said it was "downstairs," one had to walk a fair distance past the hotel entrance all the way to the beach to reach the place Ruan Qiuji had mentioned. Qi Bailu wore only a thin T-shirt; as the night breeze swept in from the sea, a chill crept over him, and he couldn't help but wrap his arms around himself.
There were no streetlights. The path was pitch-black, guided only by the distant glow of lanterns. Qi Bailu wore the hotel’s straw slippers, his feet sinking unevenly into the soft sand with every step. Halfway there, hurrying along, he failed to see what was beneath him and tripped over a coconut shell half-buried in the sand. He tumbled forward. The fall didn't hurt, but it was embarrassing; fortunately, there was no one around to see.
Qi Bailu sat on the ground, brushing the sand off his body. He picked up one of his slippers, which was stuck in the sand, and fell into a silent daze. The slippers were woven from grass, and the strap had somehow snapped during the trip. They were unwearable.
How could he be this unlucky? He looked around at his surroundings, momentarily unwilling to stand back up. The grit clinging to his skin wouldn't come off no matter how much he brushed; it seemed he would need another shower upon his return. Letting the sea breeze blow against his face for a moment, Qi Bailu stood up in silence. Clutching both slippers in one hand, he walked toward the shore barefoot by the light of the moon.
The bare soles of his feet felt a bit itchy against the sand, yet it was strangely comfortable. The moonlight alone wasn't enough to see the path clearly, so he turned on his phone’s flashlight. As he neared the bar, he tucked the phone away. He looked up to see the tall coconut trees silhouetted against the night sky like streaks of ink, bleeding out and then congealing. Beneath the trees, a red neon sign flickered.
The bar was an open-air, semi-exposed structure. The wide corridor was lined with lush, broad-leafed tropical plants. Qi Bailu stepped into the warm glow of the lights; the orange bulbs burned with a faint reddish hue. His feet hit the wooden planks of the walkway as he headed toward the furthest corner. He had intended to call over a waiter to ask for directions, but a turn of his head revealed Ruan Qiuji’s silhouette.
Ruan Qiuji sat alone at the L-shaped bar, his back to Qi Bailu, still wearing the same Hawaiian shirt from earlier that day. The reason Qi Bailu hadn't seen him at first was the white linen curtains hanging between them to dampen the sound; now, the wind had blown a gap in the fabric.
Qi Bailu lifted the floor-length curtain and stepped through. Outside, waves of laughter and chatter rose up. He crept up behind Ruan Qiuji and said abruptly, "Ruan Qiuji, why didn't you answer my calls?"
Ruan Qiuji didn't speak, his back still turned. One hand was propped on the bar, a half-finished cigarette held between his fingers. Qi Bailu moved to his side to look at his face. Only then did Ruan Qiuji seem to notice him. He raised his eyes and said, "You came..."
Qi Bailu caught the heavy scent of alcohol on him. Ruan Qiuji’s gaze was noticeably vacant. "How much did you drink? Are you drunk?"
Ruan Qiuji didn't answer. He saw the slippers in Qi Bailu’s hand, then lowered his gaze to Qi Bailu’s bare feet. He smiled. "Are you 'carrying your golden-threaded shoes' tonight?"
Qi Bailu felt a flush of embarrassment. He knew the literary allusion to the secret affair between Li Houzhu and Queen Zhou the Younger, but he feigned ignorance. "More like grass-threaded shoes... It’s late. Let’s go. I’ll take you back to your room."
As he spoke, he reached out to snatch the glass and the cigarette from Ruan Qiuji’s hands. Ruan Qiuji let him take them without protest, but just as Qi Bailu moved to support his arm, Ruan suddenly wrapped both arms around Qi Bailu’s waist. He pulled him into his embrace and whispered, "I waited for you for three hours."
Caught off guard by the sudden move, Qi Bailu dropped the slippers. They hit the floor with a dull *thud*. Looking at Ruan Qiuji now, he felt the man wasn't drunk at all. He tried to pry the hands away. "So you didn't answer my calls just to spite me on purpose?"
Sitting on the high stool, Ruan Qiuji leaned forward and pulled Qi Bailu tighter. The weight of his upper body pressed down against Qi Bailu’s shoulder. "What do you think?"
What had he been doing during those three hours? He had been in bed with Zheng Kunyu. Qi Bailu turned his head away, trying to distance himself, but the scent of alcohol surrounding Ruan Qiuji enveloped him; no matter which way he turned, there was no escape. Ruan Qiuji stared intently into his eyes—a signal of absolute danger.
"I’ll... I’ll buy you ice cream tomorrow. Can we go now?" Qi Bailu paused, choosing to continue playing dumb.
"You have to answer one question first."
Qi Bailu thought for a moment. "What?"
Ruan Qiuji’s palm slid up his back through the fabric of his T-shirt, moving all the way to the nape of his neck to hold him in place. Only then did he speak: "Why did you come looking for me again?"
"You didn't reply to my messages or answer my calls. I was afraid you’d fallen into the sea and been eaten by sharks."
"And if I really had been eaten?"
"I’d light three sticks of incense for you."
"Does he know you’re out?"
"Are we going or not?"
"He doesn't know. You’re hiding it from him." Ruan Qiuji looked down at him, seemingly triumphant at having caught him in a lie.
"So what if I am?"
"You have a guilty conscience."
"Are you a ghost then?" Qi Bailu retorted instinctively, then realized it sounded wrong. "I don't!"
"Oh?"
Qi Bailu looked at him quietly for a while. "Boss Ruan, you’re the one who should be an actor. You aren't drunk at all!"
How could a drunk person trap him in a conversation so efficiently? Ruan Qiuji leaned toward his ear. "And what about you? These past few days, have you been acting? Are you deliberately torturing me, or are you torturing yourself?"
Qi Bailu paused. "I haven't been acting."
Ruan Qiuji straightened up to look at his face, as if trying to discern if he was lying. After a moment of scrutiny, Ruan’s gaze turned peculiar. Qi Bailu took the opportunity to push against his chest. "If I did anything before to make you misunderstand, it won't happen again."
Qi Bailu turned to leave. Ruan Qiuji said thoughtfully, "He hurt you like that, and yet you still love him?"
Hearing this, Qi Bailu suddenly spun back around. But Ruan Qiuji merely traced the rim of his glass with his finger and said no more. Qi Bailu stepped forward, questioning him with a touch of neurotic intensity, "What do you know?"
"The apartment on the 3rd Ring Road, back then." Ruan Qiuji stopped there, his tone indifferent. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Qi Bailu’s expression shift violently.
How could he know about what happened back then—unless Zheng Kunyu told him? But Zheng Kunyu was not the type to broadcast his private affairs. Qi Bailu stared fixedly at his face. There was only one other possibility. "That day... you were the one who called Zheng Kunyu."
While they were entangled on the sofa, Zheng Kunyu had answered a call. The person on the other end said they were going to Los Angeles. Zheng Kunyu left. That was the only time he had left during those ten days. And so, before he could return, Qi Bailu had swallowed Zheng Kunyu’s sleeping pills.
"It was me."
The world was truly full of such coincidences. Qi Bailu met his gaze expressionlessly. If that was the case, Ruan Qiuji must have known from the start that he had been sent to the hospital. This was the part of his past he was most unwilling to mention, yet now Ruan Qiuji was forcing him to remember.
Qi Bailu’s eyes flickered. He walked back to the bar and rested a hand on the counter. Though the bartender and the laughing tourists outside were all foreigners, he still lowered his voice. "How were you so sure that person was me?"
"I was curious, and surprised. I wanted to know who could make Zheng Kunyu go to such lengths to rush them to the hospital and fight so hard to keep them alive. So, the hospital gave me a name. I remembered that name, and I remembered your face from the movies."
That was why, when they first met at the charity gala, Ruan Qiuji had said, "I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before." The moment he remembered, he understood the relationship between the person before him and Zheng Kunyu. He had known of Qi Bailu’s existence for so long; that phone call had even indirectly altered Qi Bailu’s choices and his life, yet their fates had only brushed past each other.
"What else do you know?"
Ruan Qiuji said, "I investigated you. You have an independent household registration; you owned property in Beijing at twenty, yet your family background is untraceable. You studied at the Film Academy but dropped out. The school leadership is tight-lipped about the reason, and all other records were destroyed—nothing remains in the archives. Usually, when a star debuts, it’s easy to dig up their entire past. So why is there so little on you? Qi Bailu, is that even your real name?"
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
"At first, I thought you only stayed by his side for the sake of your career, but I underestimated you both. You’re a perfect match—one willing to strike, the other willing to suffer. He fell for you, and because of that, you remain indifferent to the harm you’ve endured." Having reached this point, Ruan Qiuji’s words were cuttingly sharp.
After listening, a stubborn light appeared in Qi Bailu’s eyes. He countered, "You aren't me. How do you know I’m indifferent?"
Ruan Qiuji watched him, slowly finishing the wine in his glass before pushing it aside. He said tonelessly, "It seems you don't want to leave him now. I must warn you, that is not a wise choice."
"Are you trying to criticize me?"
Ruan Qiuji glanced at him with an inscrutable look. Finally, he said, "I hope you cut your losses in time."
This attitude provoked Qi Bailu. "Cut my losses? Did you ever think about giving me a hand back then after you found out about the apartment? Did you ever think about what that stranger might be suffering? You didn't. You were indifferent. Perhaps you were even mocking me in your heart for being so cheap and self-degrading. I could have been tortured to death and no one would have saved me!"
By now, Qi Bailu’s emotions were agitated, as if Ruan Qiuji’s words had pierced a nerve. He didn't stop, continuing aggressively: "All of you just stand on your high horses and say, 'Don't love this person, don't love that person.' But where were you all before? You offer your sanctimonious sympathy and point out other people’s moral failings, but have you ever, for a single second, cared for someone from the bottom of your heart? You all use me. You want me to smile, you want my youth, you want this face of mine—but you don't want *me*. Your love comes with conditions. So what if I hate him to death? At least he won't leave me. He’s good to me. I’m not some heartless fool!"
Qi Bailu was no longer talking to Ruan Qiuji; he was talking to himself, venting the resentment buried deep within. The moment the words left his mouth, he felt a pang of regret, but he forced himself to meet Ruan Qiuji’s scrutiny. Perhaps it was at this very moment that he fully understood his own heart.
He had long since fallen into a degenerate life. He knew how bad Zheng Kunyu was—even worse than others imagined—and he himself was no saint. Over the years, he had punished and abused Zheng Kunyu mentally to varying degrees. Even his refusal to reject Ruan Qiuji’s advances was, perhaps, a desire to see Zheng Kunyu jealous.
Qi Bailu knew their relationship was morbid and twisted. But could he not crave love? Not a single plum grows on ten thousand miles of wasteland. He was dying of thirst; why couldn't he drink poison to quench it?
As Ruan Qiuji listened to these frantic words, his gaze slowly sharpened into a taut line. It was as if that line had suddenly ripped the mask from his face; his usual well-disguised upbringing was stripped away along with the mask.
Qi Bailu’s eyes were slightly red, perhaps flushed by the seductive red lights. At this moment, he looked like a rabbit with its ears pinned back.
They stared at each other. Ruan Qiuji didn't want to listen anymore. He saw it clearly: Qi Bailu was a rabbit huddling in a burrow. Unless you dug up his hole completely, he would crouch there and never move. You had to grab him by the ears and tail and drag him out—drag him out even if it hurt him, even if he bit you in his panic.
Ruan Qiuji stood up from the barstool and reached out for Qi Bailu. Qi Bailu jerked back violently, as if a venomous snake were about to strike. Ruan Qiuji was faster, catching Qi Bailu’s chin, his thumb and forefinger clamping down on the jawbone. His voice was calm yet dark as he asked, "He’s good to you, and I’m not?"
The true face was finally revealed. Qi Bailu hadn't guessed wrong; at his core, Ruan was the same kind of person as Zheng Kunyu. Qi Bailu looked at him silently. He couldn't answer the question; just because someone is good to you doesn't mean you will be good to them in return. Ruan Qiuji was indeed good, but he was so good it was unbearable. He grabbed Ruan Qiuji’s wrists with both hands and wrenched the hand away.
The moment Qi Bailu turned his back on Ruan Qiuji to leave, Ruan hooked his arm around Qi Bailu’s neck from behind. He pulled him back, forced his face around, and kissed him hard in that position.
The kiss came more suddenly than a crack of spring thunder. Qi Bailu’s eyes widened. Before he could even struggle, Ruan Qiuji pinned both his wrists with a single hand. His neck was arched back, his entire body held firmly in Ruan’s embrace—a completely passive posture.
Ruan Qiuji went straight for a deep kiss, his tongue pressing against Qi Bailu’s to sweep through his mouth. Their lips were pressed tight, the kiss lingering and erotic. He gave Qi Bailu no time to adjust mentally, intending to make him melt and surrender through this kiss alone. Qi Bailu couldn't break free; he could only watch as Ruan sucked on his lips and tongue with even greater force.
Last time, he hadn't said this. He had clearly said he would wait until Qi Bailu was willing. Held so tightly, Qi Bailu felt a flush of heat spread through his body. Before he could find a gap to breathe, his strength began to fail him. This was their first kiss, yet it was entirely under Ruan Qiuji’s control. As his tongue was entangled, Qi Bailu felt as though a thread of his soul was being drawn out.
Taking advantage of the moment Ruan Qiuji tilted his head to change positions, Qi Bailu finally wrenched his hand free and pushed him away. But in a split second, Ruan Qiuji pinned him from the front. His strength was unexpectedly immense. Dizzy and lightheaded, Qi Bailu tripped over the barstool behind him, his back hitting the edge of the bar. Ruan Qiuji pressed against him from the front, lifting him onto the stool and kissing him again before he could even sit steady.
He hadn't expected the usually good-tempered Ruan Qiuji to be so fierce when kissing; his lips felt as though they were being rubbed raw. Qi Bailu was going mad—this was a public place, there were people talking just outside, and they could be seen at any moment. He felt Ruan Qiuji had gone mad too, for the man showed no sign of stopping.
Drowned in the scent of alcohol and masculine presence, Qi Bailu’s resistance weakened slightly, making him appear obedient and submissive. But only Ruan Qiuji knew how restlessly Qi Bailu’s hands were trying to escape. As Ruan Qiuji shifted his head to kiss him from another angle, Qi Bailu, in his daze, saw a figure behind the floor-length white linen curtains.
It was pitch-black outside, and he couldn't see clearly, but Qi Bailu’s intuition told him someone had just been staring at them! His whole body tensed. He thought he heard the sound of footsteps retreating. Qi Bailu desperately pulled his hand free to slap Ruan Qiuji’s shoulder. Ruan’s movements stopped. Qi Bailu thrust his hand into the hair at the back of Ruan’s head and pulled hard to force him away from his lips. Trembling with shock, he said to Ruan Qiuji, "Someone was just there..."
Ruan Qiuji’s dark eyes shifted. He didn't rush to look back. Instead, he first used his thumb to wipe the saliva from the corner of Qi Bailu’s mouth before letting him go and walking toward the curtain. Qi Bailu slid off the stool and followed. Ruan Qiuji reached out and flicked the curtain aside. There was nothing behind it. The corridor was empty; only the tropical plants swayed their broad leaves, and large pink hibiscus flowers hung their heads, lonely, vibrant, and listless.
Ruan Qiuji glanced down the corridor past the row of swaying leaves. In that final second, he saw it: a long, slanted black shadow dragging across the ground.
But he didn't intend to tell Qi Bailu. He simply said, "No one’s there."
Qi Bailu stood there, stunned. He felt his intuition couldn't be wrong. Was it just a hallucination born of tension? Ruan Qiuji turned back to touch his face, but this time Qi Bailu fled. He scrambled back two steps and warned, "Don't you dare tell anyone about tonight."
With that, he grabbed his slippers and phone and circled far around Ruan Qiuji to leave. He didn't look back, as if looking back would allow Ruan Qiuji to seize him again and make him remember the taste of that kiss.
Fortunately, Ruan Qiuji didn't follow. Back at the hotel, Qi Bailu dragged his exhausted body out of the elevator. He reached his room and used the key card to open the door. Now, he truly had no desire to sleep. He needed to shower, take his medicine, and get into bed—ideally without waking Zheng Kunyu.
Zheng Kunyu. Qi Bailu felt a sudden premonition. After closing the door, he looked toward the far side of the double bed. The white duvet was tossed aside in a heap, looking like a lonely cloud.
Zheng Kunyu was not in the bed.
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
李后主 | Li Houzhu | Li Yu, the last ruler of the Southern Tang dynasty and a famous poet.
小周后 | Queen Zhou the Younger | The younger sister of Li Houzhu's first wife; they had a famous secret affair.
金缕鞋 | Golden-threaded shoes | A reference to a poem by Li Houzhu about a secret tryst.
饮鸩止渴 | Drinking poison to quench thirst | An idiom meaning to seek a temporary solution that results in disaster.
三环 | 3rd Ring Road | A major orbital road in Beijing.
