Xue Fang was jolted awake by the sound of his phone alarm. Still immersed in the remnants of last night’s dreams, he reached out groggily to grab the device. He fumbled for a long while without finding it, only to hear the soft scuff of slippers a moment later. He forced his eyelids open, squinting against the bright light, and saw Qi Bailu standing before him in checkered pajamas. Qi Bailu had a toothbrush clamped between his teeth as he leaned over to pick up the phone from the coffee table and silence the alarm.
It took Xue Fang a few seconds to process his surroundings. He looked down at the blanket covering him; his clothes were perfectly neat, not a single button undone. Recalling the events of the previous night, he felt a wave of embarrassment, unable to fathom how he had simply drifted off. Qi Bailu, appearing entirely unfazed, took the blanket away and poured him a glass of plain water.
"Thanks."
Xue Fang put on his glasses and took the disposable paper cup, keeping his head down as he drank to hide his emotions. He noticed several empty snack bags on the coffee table, along with a few brightly colored medicine bottles. Qi Bailu turned back to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth. By the time he emerged, Xue Fang was waiting for him at the entryway.
"Sorry for crashing here," Xue Fang said. "I’ll head back to my hotel now. I have to get to the airport soon."
Qi Bailu nodded.
Xue Fang looked as if he wanted to say more, but he simply pointed toward the door. Qi Bailu opened it for him, and they exchanged goodbyes.
As the door slowly clicked shut, Qi Bailu checked his phone. Ruan Qiuji had called him four times last night. Seeing no response, he had sent a WeChat message at midnight: *Where are you?*
Qi Bailu replied quickly: *I’m with the crew filming night scenes.*
After that message was sent, the rest of the night passed in silence. Ruan Qiuji didn't respond, nor did he call again. Qi Bailu glanced at the time—it was six in the morning, over five hours since that message. He pressed the phone against his chin and began to pace slowly through the living room. He had to keep moving, or else he would start to tremble—whether from excitement, fear, or some other emotion, he couldn't tell.
The wait felt interminable. Three minutes later, a sharp, urgent knocking suddenly rang out. Qi Bailu turned to open the door. As his hand gripped the handle, his heart hammered against his ribs, but the person outside was only Xue Fang.
Xue Fang gave a small wave and glanced toward the sofa. "Sorry to bother you again, but I forgot my jacket."
Qi Bailu gave a steady nod and went to retrieve the jacket for him. This time, as Xue Fang draped the garment over his arm, he lingered at the door and summoned the courage to add, "I’ll see you when you’re back in Beijing."
"Alright."
Qi Bailu looked into his eyes, but Xue Fang felt as though the other man was distracted, likely by his schedule for the day. Not wanting to waste any more of his time, Xue Fang hurried away.
When he stepped out of the elevator into the hotel lobby, that sensation of being watched from the night before returned. Xue Fang instinctively glanced toward the lounge area and caught sight of a familiar figure. As he walked past the lounge, the person stood up and headed for the elevator, catching the doors just before they closed. Xue Fang didn't think much of it at first, but once he was inside a taxi, the realization hit him: *Was that man just now... Ruan Qiuji?*
Leather soles pressed into the hallway carpet, moving almost silently, yet the steady, unhurried pace carried a heavy sense of pressure. The second knock came quickly—three sharp raps, followed by three more, as if the person feared those inside wouldn't hear.
Because it happened so soon after the first visit, Qi Bailu assumed Xue Fang had forgotten something else. But as soon as the door cracked open a sliver, a hand pressed against the wood and shoved it wide. The force caused Qi Bailu to lose his grip on the handle. He looked up to find Ruan Qiuji standing before him.
Ruan Qiuji wore a long trench coat. His expression was cold and weary, a departure from his usual suave and elegant demeanor. He looked as though he hadn't slept all night, and there was no hint of a smile in his narrow, elegant eyes. Qi Bailu instinctively took a step back. Ruan Qiuji followed him inside and closed the door behind him. The moment the lock clicked, Ruan Qiuji reached out to touch his neck. Qi Bailu flinched away.
"You're early," Qi Bailu said.
Qi Bailu’s pajama collar was slightly askew, revealing a hint of his collarbone. Ruan Qiuji stared at him for a beat before walking past him into the room. The small beige sofa was a mess; the cardigan Qi Bailu had worn yesterday was tossed over it, and a throw pillow lay on the floor. Ruan Qiuji’s gaze swept over the remote control, the snack bags, and the wine glasses. He stopped by the coffee table and picked up the bottle of red wine, examining the foreign label.
It was the bottle he had bought for Qi Bailu the last time he visited.
Qi Bailu took the bottle from Ruan Qiuji’s hand and set it back on the table.
"Why did you lie to me?" Ruan Qiuji asked.
"Lie to you about what?"
Ruan Qiuji turned to look at him coldly. He reached out and forced Qi Bailu down onto the sofa. His grip was rough. Qi Bailu didn't resist, though his spine remained stiff and rigid. Ruan Qiuji leaned down, bringing his eyes level with Qi Bailu’s.
"I’m giving you one chance to explain. Why did you lie?"
This version of Ruan Qiuji was utterly foreign. Even when he was drunk, he was never this frightening. Anger and suspicion were written clearly in his eyes.
Qi Bailu said, "I thought you wouldn't be able to help yourself last night. I didn't expect you to wait the whole night."
Ruan Qiuji’s expression didn't change at the revelation, but his gaze grew dark and sullen. Qi Bailu’s indifferent tone had thoroughly provoked him. He grabbed Qi Bailu’s face, forcing him to look at him.
"You did it on purpose." Bringing Xue Fang over for the night, ignoring the calls, and lying about the night shoot—it was all intentional. He was truly that heartless.
"You agreed to be with me from the start just for this? All these months of playing along... was it all for today?" Qi Bailu met his gaze without flinching. Ruan Qiuji tightened his grip. "Was it?"
Qi Bailu didn't answer. His cheeks were pinched inward by the man's fingers. He looked at him and said, "Happy birthday, Boss Ruan."
Ruan Qiuji let out a couple of dry laughs, but his eyes remained void of mirth. He released Qi Bailu and stood up, looking down at him from his height. "Is this your way of getting revenge?"
"This hardly counts as revenge," Qi Bailu replied. "It’s just letting you taste what it feels like to be calculated against."
"Impressive tactics."
"I learned them from you." Qi Bailu tilted his face up slightly.
Ruan Qiuji’s gaze bore down on him, sharp as a blade. He stood there motionless for perhaps half a minute. During that time, he seemed to be suppressing something, until finally, he spoke.
"Is this because of Zheng Kunyu?"
Qi Bailu’s throat hitched. He looked away.
"Have you still not forgotten him?"
"Can't I just be doing this for myself?"
They spoke almost simultaneously, their words nearly overlapping.
Ruan Qiuji sneered. "For yourself? Or are you still pining for your dead lover?"
Stung by the cruelty, Qi Bailu tried to stand up, but Ruan Qiuji grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back. Qi Bailu gripped the armrest but slid down onto the floor. Ruan Qiuji crouched down to meet his eyes, catching him by the back of the neck.
"Too bad he’s dead," Ruan Qiuji whispered.
Qi Bailu feigned indifference, acting as if the name Zheng Kunyu meant nothing to him.
Ruan Qiuji pressed his forehead against Qi Bailu’s. "I have never regretted his death. Not if it makes you look at me like this."
"This is your true face, isn't it?"
Qi Bailu could hardly stand his gaze—that look that sought to control him, to tear him apart. He twisted his head to avoid Ruan Qiuji’s palm.
Ruan Qiuji said, "Since you know what I'm like, how do you have the nerve to do something like this?"
"Because I’m sick of your egoism."
"So you’d rather sleep with someone you don't even like?"
Meeting Ruan Qiuji’s mocking gaze, Qi Bailu paused, then said, "Didn't I sleep with you, too?"
In the heat of anger, people say anything, especially when they know exactly where the other’s weak points are. Qi Bailu felt a rush of vengeful pleasure as he spoke, a sensation so intense it made him dizzy. He knew he was lying, and the lie sent a shiver through him, as if he were betraying himself. Why was it that only when they were hurting each other could they truly strip away their disguises and see a glimmer of the other's heart?
Those words shattered Ruan Qiuji’s pride, piece by piece. Even Ruan Qiuji found it surreal—this feeling of being loathed, neglected, and trampled upon. With a single sentence, Qi Bailu had overturned their entire past, discarding all the careful testing and the moments of sweetness like a petulant child kicking over a painstakingly built toy castle.
Only Ruan Qiuji knew how long he had been waiting. In his coat pocket were two tickets for a ballet performance dated last night, October 31st. They were useless now. He had imagined walking along the road after the show; perhaps they would have seen the same tricycle selling flowers, and he would have bought him a bouquet of roses. If Qi Bailu had kissed him and said "Happy Birthday," Ruan Qiuji would have said to him on his thirty-third birthday: *Let’s be together.*
Perhaps Qi Bailu would have pretended not to understand. Then he would have said: *Bailu, I don't want to wait anymore. I don't want to wait until the day you say you love me to become your lover. I don't want to waste time. I don't want to have regrets.*
Ruan Qiuji gripped Qi Bailu’s face, his eyes looking at him as if he were an executioner. "What exactly am I to you?"
Though Ruan Qiuji had never shown violent tendencies before, Qi Bailu was afraid. He grabbed Ruan Qiuji’s hand to prevent him from suddenly choking him. "I have never—"
Ruan Qiuji suddenly grabbed the bottle of red wine from the table. Qi Bailu instinctively closed his eyes and curled away, but Ruan Qiuji held his chin firmly, preventing him from moving. The mouth of the bottle was jammed against Qi Bailu’s face. The wine surged out, pouring over his features, flooding his mouth and nose, cutting his words short. Qi Bailu squeezed his eyes shut, struggling in Ruan Qiuji’s grip. He choked on the liquid, trying to dodge the waterfall of wine drenching his head and face, but there was no escape.
It felt as though he were drowning. Qi Bailu coughed violently, the wine in his nasal passages and throat creating a terrifying sense of suffocation. Throughout it all, Ruan Qiuji simply watched him with cold detachment. When the bottle was mostly empty, Qi Bailu was finally able to turn his head and gasp for air. Ruan Qiuji tossed the bottle aside and leaned in to look at him. Qi Bailu’s brow was furrowed, his face streaked with wine, his eyelashes and hair soaked. As the bottle rolled away, Ruan Qiuji straightened Qi Bailu’s face, saying nothing, merely watching the miserable sight of him coughing.
Qi Bailu’s hair was drenched in red wine, as were his pajamas. Lying in the puddle of wine, he looked as if he were resting in a pool of blood, the deep red making his skin appear a sickly, porcelain white. Ruan Qiuji reached out to touch his soaked hair. Qi Bailu turned to look at him, but before he could speak, Ruan Qiuji kissed him fiercely. The lips, steeped in red wine, were tart and sweet, carrying the intoxicating, heavy scent of alcohol.
It was a kiss that felt like a bite, but Qi Bailu didn't pull away. He no longer cared about being hurt. He almost wished Ruan Qiuji would shatter him; even if he became a pile of broken porcelain, he could still make Ruan Qiuji bleed. This reaction seemed to be exactly what Ruan Qiuji wanted. With dark eyes, Ruan Qiuji used brute force to tear open his pajamas. The sound of rending fabric echoed clearly in the air. If they were going down, they would go to hell together.
***
