Chapter 76 - Tangled Strands
The tip of the cigarette held a long, precarious pillar of ash that threatened to crumble at the slightest vibration. It hung there, a fragile gray monument to the silence stretching between them. From Ruan Qiuji’s vantage point, he could only see the sweep of Qi Bailu’s long eyelashes as they cast dense, velvety shadows over his downcast eyes. The curve of the younger man’s bare back, pale and smooth in the dim light, possessed an indescribable, haunting elegance—a canvas of skin that seemed to glow with a faint, ethereal luster.
Ruan Qiuji finally moved, his fingers retreating as he crushed the spent cigarette into the crystal ashtray. He leaned down, his lips brushing against Qi Bailu’s shoulder in a gesture that bordered on genuine affection. The touch was lingering, heavy with a sudden surge of emotion. Qi Bailu, however, merely shifted, rolling away from the contact. He turned onto his side, his voice a faint, exhausted murmur.
"No more... just go to sleep..."
As he spoke, Qi Bailu’s eyes remained tightly shut, weighed down by a leaden drowsiness. Ruan Qiuji sighed softly and pulled the duvet up, draping it over their midsections before pausing and drawing it higher to cover Qi Bailu’s exposed back. The movement seemed to disturb the younger man; his eyelids fluttered open halfway, and he peered at the figure beside him on the pillow. For a long moment, he stared at Ruan Qiuji with a glazed, half-awake intensity, as if trying to discern whether the man before him was real or a fragment of a dream.
Ruan Qiuji reached for the bedside lamp, intending to let him rest, but the lingering strangeness of Qi Bailu’s behavior throughout the night gave him pause. His hand hovered over the switch as he asked in a low, searching voice, "Who am I?"
*Who are you?* Qi Bailu thought, his consciousness drifting on the edge of a dark abyss. He thought Ruan Qiuji was being an insufferable blockhead. Did the man truly believe he was so muddled, so lost in the haze of pleasure, that he would forget exactly who was sharing his bed? But the retort died in his throat. He simply drifted off, his head pillowed on Ruan Qiuji’s arm. He never saw the way Ruan’s gaze dimmed, mirroring the sudden darkness that swallowed the room the moment the light clicked off.
Ruan Qiuji was not a man prone to dreaming, yet the following morning, he found himself ensnared by a rare, lingering slumber. He failed to wake to his usual internal clock, the persistent ringing of his phone bleeding from his dreams into reality. When he finally forced his eyes open, the sun was already high in the sky, its harsh light pouring through the gaps in the curtains. Qi Bailu was gone from the bed.
The caller was his secretary. Ruan had a business engagement scheduled for noon, but he had clearly missed the window. As he listened to the secretary’s professional drone, Ruan reached out and plucked a single long strand of hair from the neighboring pillow. He watched it idly as he wound it around his finger, the dark thread a stark contrast against his skin.
When the secretary asked if he should reschedule the meeting for that evening, Ruan declined. The secretary pushed further, suggesting tomorrow.
"Forget the meeting," Ruan Qiuji said, his voice raspy with sleep. "Just get me a few tickets for the Shanghai International Film Festival."
The secretary paused. To travel all the way to Shanghai only to have his boss skip work to hunt for movie tickets seemed absurd, but he was well-acquainted with Ruan’s whims. Swallowing his frustration, he agreed.
"Two tickets," Ruan added. "They need to be adjacent seats."
There was a second of silence on the other end. This year’s tickets were notoriously expensive and nearly impossible to secure on short notice, let alone a pair of prime seats. The secretary checked the listings and noted a screening of *The Godfather*.
"A date for a gangster flick?" Ruan mused. He was about to respond when he heard a sound from the bathroom—the muffled whir of a hairdryer. Qi Bailu hadn't left after all.
"Perhaps we could look for something else..." the secretary began.
"That one is fine," Ruan interrupted, hanging up.
He threw on a silk robe and walked toward the bathroom. Pushing the door wider, he was greeted first by the sight of Qi Bailu’s long, bare legs, and then by the chaotic cloud of hair being tossed about by the hot air. Qi Bailu caught his reflection in the mirror but said nothing; any attempt at conversation would have been drowned out by the mechanical roar. Ruan Qiuji leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, content to watch him in silence for as long as the dryer ran.
The noise filled the small space, making the sudden silence when Qi Bailu switched it off feel jarringly heavy. Qi Bailu set the dryer aside, unplugged it, and picked up a comb. The hotel’s conditioner had been subpar, leaving his hair dry and prone to tangling. The comb snagged repeatedly, catching on stubborn knots. As Qi Bailu twisted his head, trying to work through a particularly difficult snarl, Ruan Qiuji stepped forward. He reached out and took the comb from Qi Bailu’s hand.
"Let me," he said softly.
Qi Bailu’s eyes met his in the mirror, filled with silent skepticism. Ruan only offered a faint, inscrutable smile as he began to work through the strands, using his fingers to gently tease apart the knots before drawing the comb through. Though there was the occasional sharp tug on his scalp, it was far more efficient than Qi Bailu’s own clumsy efforts. Gradually, the hair smoothed out under Ruan’s touch.
In every measurable way, Ruan Qiuji’s attentiveness was flawless. As Qi Bailu caught the faint scent of the man’s cologne, a cynical thought crossed his mind: *Does he do this for everyone?*
Once the hair was smooth, Ruan didn't pull away. Instead, he gathered the dark mass in his hand, tilting his head to study Qi Bailu’s face in the glass. He swept the hair over Qi Bailu’s right shoulder, baring the nape of his neck. Ruan leaned in, his arms circling Qi Bailu’s waist as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin, inhaling the clean, light scent of the hotel soap.
"Why didn't you sleep a little longer?" Ruan murmured.
Despite the intimacy of the previous night, Qi Bailu still felt a prickle of discomfort at such blatant domesticity. He turned in Ruan’s arms, breaking the contact. "I have to go out this afternoon."
"With whom?"
Qi Bailu didn't answer immediately. Ruan’s tone carried a note of authority, a subtle demand for accountability. If it had been a casual inquiry, Qi Bailu might have easily mentioned his meeting with Xue Fang. But in this moment, Ruan’s possessiveness was naked and undisguised, etched into the sharp line of his brow.
When the silence stretched, Ruan reached out to stroke Qi Bailu’s face, his thumb brushing against his cheek. He wasn't angry; he still carried the relaxed, sated air of a man who had enjoyed himself. He leaned in to press his lips against the corner of Qi Bailu’s mouth. Sensing that Ruan intended to deepen the kiss, Qi Bailu spoke up, his voice cool and level.
"If you're acting this way because of last night—because you feel you need to take responsibility—there’s really no need."
Ruan Qiuji froze. When he pulled back, the warmth had vanished from his expression. The tender mask fell away, replaced by a sharp, piercing gaze that reflected in the mirror.
He understood perfectly. Qi Bailu was drawing a line in the sand, making it clear that last night was merely a physical transaction, something he had no intention of dwelling on. He was treating Ruan Qiuji as nothing more than a one-night stand.
"How cold-hearted," Ruan said. His voice was devoid of emotion, and while the words sounded like a flirtatious quip, his eyes remained dark and stormy.
"It's not as if you actually want to be with me," Qi Bailu countered.
Studying Ruan’s face, Qi Bailu knew he had hit the mark. No matter how much Ruan might desire him, the man had never considered a legitimate relationship. He wanted Qi Bailu, yes, but only as a lover kept in the shadows—a beautiful plaything.
Ruan didn't deny it. Qi Bailu placed a hand against Ruan’s chest, pushing slightly. "We both got what we needed. Let's leave it at that."
