The aroma of tomato beef brisket wafted into the living room. Looking at Ruan Qiuji standing amidst the pots and pans, Qi Bailu felt a sense of strangeness, though he had seen Ruan Qiuji wearing a strawberry-patterned apron once before while making popcorn. The kitchen was semi-open, connected to the dining area, allowing Qi Bailu to see him lifting the lid to check the pot, adding salt and sugar. After finishing, Ruan Qiuji turned to the bar and poured himself a glass of wine. Noticing Qi Bailu watching him from a distance, he said, "It’ll be another fifteen minutes."
Fifteen minutes. To Qi Bailu, even one more minute felt like agony. Ruan Qiuji, however, clearly had the patience to wait him out. He lowered his head and sipped his wine slowly, his eyes fixed on Qi Bailu, waiting for him to speak first. He wanted Qi Bailu to take the initiative to walk over, to prove that he was the one in control of the entire chessboard.
He had won. Qi Bailu set down the remote and walked to the dining room. He stood face-to-face with Ruan Qiuji, who turned slightly to look at him. Qi Bailu propped his elbows on the bar, reached out to take the wine glass from his hand, and set it aside. "I know it was you," he said.
"I never intended to hide it from you."
Ruan Qiuji spoke with such gentle candor, as if he wasn't the very person who had backed Zheng Kunyu into a corner. Looking at his smiling face, Qi Bailu still felt a surreal sense of dissonance.
Qi Bailu asked, "What exactly do you want?"
"I thought my objective was obvious."
He wanted the empire, and he wanted the beauty. He possessed the means to seize both. Even without Qi Bailu, he would have moved against Jinhe Entertainment and the others; it was only because of Qi Bailu that he had aimed his spearhead so precisely at Zheng Kunyu, hounding him to a dead end.
"Did you approach me just to distract Zheng Kunyu?"
Ruan Qiuji seemed slightly surprised. "Of course not. Though—if he didn't care about you so much, he might not have been so stretched thin. He shouldn't have gone to Tahiti. Bailu, you truly live up to the name of a 'calamity.'"
Ruan Qiuji leaned in close as he whispered that last part, a soft-spoken compliment tinged with a hint of intimate reproach. Qi Bailu rarely faced him so directly; he felt the man’s presence like a mountain, enveloping him in the shadows of the lamplight.
Because of the remark "He shouldn't have gone to Tahiti," Qi Bailu paused before saying, "If I am a calamity, aren't you afraid of the disaster spreading to you?"
"I am no King You of Zhou."
Qi Bailu stared into his eyes, finding him calm and patient, possessing a strange ability to make one feel secure. Yet that "guiding" tone of his was exactly like a fox waiting at the mouth of a burrow, just waiting for its prey to poke its head out before striking with a claw.
Qi Bailu could hardly stand his gaze, feeling as though he were the legendary Bao Si who refused to smile. He turned to pour himself a glass of wine, thinking that alcohol might bolster his courage. But before the wine could reach his lips, Ruan Qiuji pinched his chin, forcing him to look back. "And you?" Ruan Qiuji asked. "Why did you come to find me? What is it that you want?"
The two locked eyes for a moment. Before Qi Bailu could speak, Ruan Qiuji saw the truth in his face. His expression darkened, and he said coldly, "I can give you anything else you want. But if you're asking me to let Zheng Kunyu go, that is absolutely impossible."
His intentions exposed, Qi Bailu remained silent. Ruan Qiuji, seeing that he had guessed correctly, continued, "Is it because he threatened you? Did he force you to come to me?"
"No."
Upon hearing this, Ruan Qiuji quickly released him and turned to reach for his wine glass again. Qi Bailu grabbed his arm and looked up at him. "I know he deserves what’s coming to him, but you can stop now. You’ve already gotten everything you wanted. You know what kind of man he is as well as I do. Decades of humiliation are equivalent to killing him; he could never accept it. I have only one request: let him go abroad."
Ruan Qiuji showed no emotion. He finished half his glass of wine before glancing at him. "If I stop now, the time will come when you’ll be the one begging him to spare me."
Their shoulders were pressed together; Qi Bailu could feel the warmth radiating from him. Qi Bailu whispered, "What will it take for you to agree?"
The implication was blatant, his posture lowered to the point of being an invitation. Ruan Qiuji’s eyes darkened. He remained silent for a moment, then reached out to pinch Qi Bailu’s earlobe. His grip was heavy, kneading and rubbing with force. Ruan Qiuji said, "You’re so good to him. If I let him go, would you just run off with him again?"
"No."
Qi Bailu answered quickly, but the answer had been long-deliberated. Ruan Qiuji was unmoved, still looking at him coolly while toying with his earlobe, likely scrutinizing the honesty of the reply.
Before long, Qi Bailu’s ear and neck were flushed deep red. His eyes followed Ruan Qiuji’s, but within that clear, focused gaze, there wasn't a shred of true submissiveness. Not today, and likely not tomorrow either.
Ruan Qiuji suddenly grew tired of their little game. He straightened up, switched hands, and used his fingers to forcefully turn Qi Bailu’s face toward him. His tone was calm but carried a edge of biting sarcasm. "To save a man like that, you’re willing to play these games and sell yourself?"
That bit of sarcasm sounded almost venomous, suppressed beneath Ruan Qiuji’s refined upbringing, barely held in check. Qi Bailu could tell he was angry. An angry Ruan Qiuji was as rare as a lotus on a snowy mountain, yet Qi Bailu had seen every facet of it today.
The word "sell" was ugly to hear. Qi Bailu grew angry as well, though he wasn't sure if he was mad at Ruan or at himself.
Qi Bailu said, "I am nothing more than this physical shell. Whoever dares to take it, whoever can afford it, let them have it. Do you think your hands are clean? You are just as hypocritical and despicable as he is. Today it is him; how do you know it won't be you tomorrow? The tables always turn."
The latter words were spoken out of spite, the "inner thoughts" Qi Bailu had been suppressing. Ruan Qiuji looked down at him with hooded eyes. *The tables always turn.* The boy certainly knew how to make him feel unpleasant.
"I’m sorry to disappoint you, but they won't be turning on me anytime soon," Ruan Qiuji said calmly.
Qi Bailu gritted his teeth, waiting for the man to either strike him or unleash a torrent of abuse. To his surprise, Ruan Qiuji suddenly let him go. Ruan Qiuji’s expression shifted as he leaned back against the bar, his hand finding his wine glass. He watched Qi Bailu without blinking, as if observing a play.
His voice and expression seemed shrouded in mist. "Bailu, if you want to ask a favor, show some sincerity."
Ruan Qiuji did not share Zheng Kunyu’s straightforward style. He was willing to wait, and he could afford to. The one who couldn't afford to wait was Qi Bailu. Now, Qi Bailu either had to crawl out of the rabbit hole or stay inside until he starved; either way, a choice had to be made.
Ruan Qiuji glanced at him and walked away. When he returned, he was holding one of his own bathrobes. With a cigarette between his teeth, he pulled Qi Bailu up and wrapped him in the robe. Qi Bailu sat woodenly on the sofa. Ruan Qiuji crouched before him and placed the cigarette in Qi Bailu's mouth. "Will this help clear your head?"
Qi Bailu looked at him, took the cigarette between his fingers, and let his hand rest on his knee. When he spoke, his voice was raspy. "Why?"
"You’re right. I am just as hypocritical and despicable as he is. There were several times I thought I could deceive you, but you are too clever and too cautious. Sweet words aren't enough to move you. But Bailu, even if nine-tenths of what I say is a lie, that remaining tenth is genuine. It isn't something you can trample on."
Ruan Qiuji’s tone no longer held any hint of flirtation or coaxing; it was unreadable. His gaze rested steadily on Qi Bailu’s face, as if he were speaking the absolute truth.
Qi Bailu took a drag of the cigarette and leaned his head against the back of the sofa. The confrontation with Ruan Qiuji had drained him of all his strength. He felt utterly exhausted. He couldn't save anyone—not Zheng Kunyu, and certainly not himself.
Both remained silent for a long time. Ruan Qiuji walked away to pour more wine. When he returned, Qi Bailu was lying on the sofa, having fallen fast asleep, with tear tracks still wet on his face. He hadn't slept well the night before, and the successive blows of the past two days had finally broken him.
Ruan Qiuji sat beside him and leaned over, softly calling, "Bailu." Seeing no reaction, he reached out and took the cigarette butt from between the boy's fingers, placing it in the ashtray. The cigarette had almost burned out; if it had gone any further, it would have burned his hand. As Ruan Qiuji wiped the ash from Qi Bailu’s finger, he suddenly noticed a faint indentation on his ring finger—the mark left behind after a ring had been removed.
