Chapter 84 - Flickering Shadows of Truth
In the end, Qi Bailu missed his afternoon appointment with Cheng Wenhui. By the time the two of them finally rose from the bed, it was already four o’clock. Qi Bailu dressed himself with a practiced, expressionless efficiency, while Ruan Qiuji remained reclined against the pillows, watching him with a languid gaze.
"Let’s have dinner together tonight," Ruan Qiuji suggested, his voice still thick with the remnants of sleep. "Then I’ll drop you off to pick up Jeanne?"
It sounded like a domestic scene—a family of three reuniting for a quiet evening. Qi Bailu didn't look back as he buttoned his shirt. "Don't you have work to do?"
"It’s Saturday."
"Dinner is fine," Qi Bailu conceded, his tone clipped. "But I’m not staying the night."
Ruan Qiuji considered the trade-off for a moment before nodding in agreement. Qi Bailu tossed Ruan’s clothes toward him and moved to the foot of the bed to organize his suitcase. As Qi Bailu began hanging garments back into the wardrobe, Ruan Qiuji’s eyes caught on a beautifully wrapped box sitting on the bed. He gestured toward it with his chin. "What’s that?"
"A gift," Qi Bailu replied succinctly.
The box was adorned with a delicate green silk ribbon, tied in a meticulous bow that suggested a great deal of thought had gone into its preparation. Such care was a rarity for Qi Bailu; Ruan Qiuji had seldom seen him show this level of consideration for anyone. Qi Bailu’s vague answer was as good as no answer at all.
Quietly, Ruan Qiuji picked up his phone and typed Lin Yuewei’s name into a search engine. Her birthday wasn't today. He cleared the search bar, paused for two seconds, and typed another name: Xue Fang.
When the birth date appeared on the screen, Ruan Qiuji swiped the page closed. He looked up, his expression unreadable. "Your memory is impressive," he remarked casually. "To remember that today is Xue Fang’s birthday."
Qi Bailu, his back still turned as he folded clothes, paused. He glanced over his shoulder. "It seems yours is even better than mine."
"Slightly worse, perhaps."
"As long as the sentiment is delivered, that’s what matters," Qi Bailu said, turning back to close the wardrobe. It was impossible to tell if he was genuinely oblivious to Ruan’s jealousy or merely feigning it.
Ruan Qiuji stared at his silhouette. Qi Bailu seemed to feel the weight of the gaze but remained unaffected, sitting at the edge of the bed to methodically pack the rest of his things. After a long silence, Qi Bailu suddenly spoke. "November first."
Ruan Qiuji leaned forward, the intensity in his eyes shifting.
"You said it yourself," Qi Bailu continued, a faint edge to his voice. "I have a good memory."
November 1st was Ruan Qiuji’s birthday. The statement was a clear provocation, a subtle tug on the leash. But before Ruan could respond, Qi Bailu added one more thing: "Of course, I also hold grudges."
Ruan Qiuji moved from the head of the bed to the foot, his hand reaching out to cup Qi Bailu’s chin. He searched the younger man’s eyes for a heartbeat before leaning down to kiss him.
"Not going to be a petty miser anymore?" Qi Bailu murmured against his lips.
"Not unless I receive an even better birthday gift," Ruan replied.
Qi Bailu’s lips curved into the ghost of a smile, though it lacked any real warmth. He pressed a fleeting, feather-light kiss to Ruan’s mouth—a touch so delicate it felt as though Ruan were a still lake that might shatter at the slightest ripple. As Qi Bailu’s eyes drifted shut, Ruan Qiuji allowed himself the brief, fleeting illusion that he was loved.
***
If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, Cheng Wenhui would never have believed that Qi Bailu was living in a place like this. The residential complex sat on the edge of the Third Ring Road, an aging labyrinth of "matchbox" buildings where outside vehicles were forbidden. Cheng wandered through the narrow, cramped alleys, following the address Qi Bailu had sent. Cars were crammed along every curb, making the path nearly impassable. The rain had stopped, replaced by a sudden, stifling heat that made the air feel heavy. After searching under the blistering sun for what felt like an eternity, Cheng finally saw Qi Bailu coming down to meet him.
The ground floor was lined with a row of cramped eateries and stalls. Groups of elderly men sat nearby, absorbed in games of chess and cards. Qi Bailu looked entirely out of place yet strangely at home, dressed in simple slippers and a baseball cap. He stopped at a small shop to buy a bottle of floral water to ward off mosquitoes.
"Do you want an ice cream?" Qi Bailu asked as they stood by the register. Cheng blinked, startled by the mundane offer. Qi Bailu didn't wait for an answer, reaching into the freezer to pull out two bars.
The building lacked an elevator, but fortunately, Qi Bailu lived on the second floor. As they entered the apartment, Jeanne, the cat, trotted over lazily, attempting to lick the melting ice cream in Qi Bailu’s hand before being scooped up and deposited in the bedroom.
Cheng Wenhui stood in the cramped living room, taking in his surroundings. The apartment was devoid of any real decor, the lighting was poor, and the overall atmosphere suggested a profound indifference on the part of the tenant. The only vibrant spot was the collection of green plants thriving on the balcony.
As he ate his ice cream, Cheng remained in a state of quiet shock. Since moving out of the university dorms, Qi Bailu had never known "hardship." This place was a world away from the Lakeside Villa Zheng Kunyu had once provided.
Qi Bailu sat on the sofa and got straight to the point. "We could have talked over the phone, but there are things I need to ask you face-to-face."
Cheng nodded, bracing himself.
"Did you know my father had been in contact with Zheng Kunyu?" Qi Bailu asked.
Cheng’s hand froze. "...You found out?"
"Was it Zheng Kunyu who sent him to prison?"
The ice cream was sweet, but Cheng could no longer taste it. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded.
Qi Bailu wiped a trace of cream from his lip. "Is there anything else he’s hidden from me?"
"As far as I know, no."
"Think carefully."
Cheng looked at him helplessly, shaking his head. "Even if there were, I wouldn't necessarily know. He didn't report everything to me."
Qi Bailu seemed to accept this. He paused, then looked up. "Have you seen that DV camera?"
It took Cheng a moment to register the question. "You still haven't found it?"
Qi Bailu turned his head away, finishing his ice cream in silence before frowning and tossing the wooden stick into the trash. The silence stretched awkwardly between them. Cheng glanced at his phone, which sat face-down on the coffee table. When Qi Bailu looked back, Cheng immediately averted his gaze.
"Thank you for making the trip," Qi Bailu said. "Do you want to stay for lunch? I’ll order delivery."
"No, no," Cheng said quickly, standing up. "I have other things to attend to."
Qi Bailu didn't press him. As Cheng prepared to leave, Qi Bailu suddenly asked, "Is it possible the camera is with Ruan Qiuji?"
Cheng stiffened visibly. Qi Bailu’s eyes narrowed at the reaction.
"That... I don't think so," Cheng stammered. "No."
"Has he ever asked about my affairs?"
Cheng’s expression crumbled into a mask of conflicted misery. Qi Bailu watched him, noticing how Cheng’s eyes flickered toward the phone on the table. Cheng shook his head, picking up his device. "President Ruan rarely inquires."
The two men exchanged a long, weighted look.
"Fine," Qi Bailu said. "Very well. That’s all I wanted to know."
***
Cheng Wenhui insisted he didn't need to be seen out, and Qi Bailu didn't argue. Despite the sweltering heat, Cheng felt a cold sweat prickling his skin. He hurried to his car and wiped his palms on his trousers before gripping the steering wheel. He glanced at his phone and then into the rearview mirror.
In the back seat, Ruan Qiuji sat with his head down, fiddling with his own phone. A soft *ding* signaled the end of a call that had lasted over twenty minutes.
Ruan Qiuji, dressed in a pristine white golf outfit, set his phone aside and picked up a can of Fanta. "Good work," he said calmly.
Cheng turned around, his voice trembling slightly. "President Ruan, perhaps I shouldn't ask, but..."
"Then don't."
Cheng fell silent.
"He needs a manager," Ruan Qiuji continued. "From now on, you’ll handle him. Tell him it was your own idea."
"Will Xiao Qi accept that?"
"If he still has any ambition for his career, he won't refuse."
"Are you... asking me to spy on him?"
Ruan Qiuji shot him a sharp look, raising an eyebrow. "Do you think you’re a secret agent? Just do your job."
Cheng had no choice but to comply. Ruan Qiuji slowly finished his soda before stepping out of the car, carrying a transparent plastic shopping bag from a nearby supermarket.
As Cheng turned the car around, he caught a glimpse of the bag’s contents: a new toothbrush and other basic toiletries. It was clear the two of them were entangled again. Cheng couldn't fathom why Ruan Qiuji was going to such lengths; he had never understood the whims of men like him.
But the thought of Ruan Qiuji having to climb those stairs in the heat, walk through the grit of the old neighborhood, and squeeze onto that narrow single bed gave Cheng a small sense of balance. The bitterness of his upcoming overtime faded, replaced by a touch of schadenfreude as he hit the accelerator and sped into the shade of the roadside trees.
***
Inside the apartment, Qi Bailu had ordered a pizza. When Ruan Qiuji returned, Qi Bailu pointedly ignored him, focusing instead on a calendar where he was mapping out his schedule. He was set to join the cast of *Golden Branches and Jade Leaves* in late August, with filming expected to wrap in November.
Qi Bailu drew a small heart next to the start date. Ruan Qiuji reached over, took the pen from his hand, and drew another heart next to a different date.
"What’s that for?" Qi Bailu asked.
"The premiere of *Sorrows of the West Wind*."
Qi Bailu had almost forgotten about the long-delayed drama. He realized Ruan was planning for his future. He took the pen back and continued marking his dates. When he flipped to November, Ruan spoke up.
"Can I visit you on set?"
"I won't have time for you."
Ruan Qiuji watched him, unbothered by the rejection. He knew time was like water in a sponge—there was always more if you squeezed hard enough. He continued to stare until Qi Bailu’s pen faltered.
Without looking up, Qi Bailu asked, "Don't you have anything you want to say to me?"
"About what?"
Qi Bailu raised his head, meeting Ruan’s gaze. His eyes weren't aggressive, and Ruan’s expression remained perfectly composed, as if they were merely discussing a trivial topic. Qi Bailu quickly looked away. Ruan was about to speak when he saw Qi Bailu draw one final heart—right next to Ruan’s own birthday.
His heart skipped a beat. As Qi Bailu bowed his head again, a lock of hair fell forward, veiling his eyes from view.
