Work Text:
‘Good evening, you’re through to Candid Companions. What can I do for you this evening?’
‘Um.’ Feng Xin’s throat closed up. The man on the other end of the line sounded both exhausted and impatient, like he had a thousand other things better to do. He didn’t exactly sound thrilled to be speaking to Feng Xin either. But the ad said the phone line was open twenty-four hours, and it had taken three cans of beer to get him to pick up his phone and dial the number. He couldn’t do this.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi. Um.’ He cleared his throat and took a breath. He couldn’t not do this. ‘I’d like to…uh.’
‘Hire a companion, by any chance?’
‘…Yeah. Yeah, that.’
‘It’s alright, sir. There’s no need to be embarrassed or ashamed.’ His words were reassuring, but his tone didn’t quite match. He sounded like he’d recited the same script for years and was utterly bored of having to do so. ‘Why don’t you start by telling me your name?’
He considered using an alias for about half a second. He would die and shrivel up on the spot from embarrassment if even friends of friends ever found out about this. But a “companion” would need to know his real name, or else Xie Lian would have some questions. ‘...Feng Xin.’
The man on the other end of the line hesitated. Feng Xin was used to it. His name wasn’t native to this country. ‘And what do you need a companion for, Feng Xin? Is there a special event, or do you just want someone to spend time with?’
Feng Xin cringed. God, he already felt pathetic enough making this phone call—he hadn’t realised people would hire a “companion” out of nothing more than loneliness. He was also vaguely impressed with the accurate pronunciation of his name, but the discomfort drowned it out too much to ask about it. Climbing up from the sofa, he started to pace the length of his small apartment, stepping over the toys Cuo Cuo had left strewn about during his last visit. ‘It’s- It’s for a wedding. In three weeks.’
‘That’s a bit short notice.’
Short, clipped, and to the point. His heart plummeted. ‘I know, I know. I’m sorry. I was hoping- I didn’t want to- I just- This wasn’t exactly my first choice, you know?’
‘…’
‘N-no offence, of course.’
‘…Of course.’ He cleared his throat delicately, and despite his dismissal his tone turned much frostier. ‘For how long will you be needing our services?’
‘Two weeks. The ceremony is on the fourteenth, but I’m part of the wedding party, so I need to be there for…everything.’
‘I see. I hope you understand that it will be difficult for me to find you a companion by next week with a two-week gap in their schedule?’
His heart dropped even further, landing somewhere in the region of his appendix. ‘I understand. I don’t mind who it is. Anyone… Anyone is fine.’ God, he really was pathetic.
‘Do you want to tell me a little bit about your expectations for your companion? So that they can provide the best service for you.’
Feng Xin sighed. ‘It’s my best friend’s wedding. I’m one of the groomsmen. The guy he’s marrying already thinks I’m pathetic. Everyone I’ve ever met in my life will be there, including my son and my ex-wife. I can’t turn up on my own, and they already think I’m bringing someone-’ He bit his lip to halt the tsunami of words and clawed his free hand into his hair.
The nameless man on the other end of the line was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, he sounded fractionally less cold—or perhaps Feng Xin’s desperate mind was yearning so hard for comfort that he was just imagining it. ‘…Do you have a preference for gender?’
‘No. No preference,’ he answered with a short laugh. He was openly bisexual, and Xie Lian was the most tolerant and open-minded person on the planet. It really didn’t matter one way or the other who turned up to play Feng Xin’s partner for a fortnight, as long as they were convincing.
‘All right.’ He listened to the faint tap-tapping of a keyboard in the background. ‘Will they have any specific duties during the lead up to the wedding?’
‘No. As long as they turn up and don’t look completely miserable with me, that’ll be more than enough.’
There was a whoosh of breath down the line, and Feng Xin wondered if he was sighing or laughing at him. ‘Do you have any other requirements?’
The word no was on the tip of his tongue again, but he managed to hold it back long enough to consider for a moment. The entire wedding party and everyone attending could speak fluent English, but they wouldn’t use it exclusively. Why would they? It wasn’t their first language. ‘…A decent grasp of Mandarin would be useful, but not essential,’ he conceded. He didn’t think he had much room to be picky, but the man did ask.
‘Understood. Let me take some contact information from you, and you’ll receive an email within twenty-four hours confirming whether I’ve found a suitable companion for your needs.’
‘…Okay. Thanks.’
Feng Xin gave his details and waited for the line to disconnect. He half-dropped, half-threw his phone down into the sofa, before collapsing into the cushions himself and groaning into his arms.
Almost exactly twenty-four hours later, as Feng Xin was trying to rally the motivation to get this report done for work before his annual leave officially began, his confirmation email came through. He abandoned his report to read it from top to bottom three times; but it said absolutely nothing other than the fact that, yes, a “companion” would be joining him for the two weeks he requested. That they would be in touch. There were no other details. His companion’s name, their gender, their appearance—all a mystery. The email wasn’t even signed.
Feng Xin tried replying to ask, but received no response.
The following Monday, he had to join the rest of the bridal party for hotpot. Xie Lian, Hua Cheng, his groomsman and the groomsman’s girlfriend would all be there. He was supposed to be introducing his new partner to them all ahead of the wedding. But lunchtime rolled around, and his “companion” still hadn’t contacted him.
Feng Xin regretted taking so much time off work. It’s not like he had much choice – companion or no companion, he still had so much to do for Xie Lian’s wedding – but so much downtime was driving him insane. He had nothing to do but think about what a stupid idea it had been to pay for a partner.
One that might not even show up anyway!
Hours ticked by. No phone call.
Feng Xin picked out his outfit for the evening meal and made an attempt to clean himself up. No emails.
He left his apartment, locked the door, took three flights of stairs down to the street and hailed a taxi. No texts.
As he dragged his feet the entire short walk from the roadside to the restaurant door, his phone chimed in his pocket. Entirely expecting it to be Xie Lian asking where he was, since he was on the verge of being late, Feng Xin’s heart jumped up into his mouth when he saw a number he didn’t recognise.
??
(19:00) Is this Feng Xin?
He’d lived here for over a decade, and it was still weird to see his name written out in Western script. He ducked to the side of the restaurant doors, out of sight of the windows just in case the others were keeping an eye out for him, and responded.
Feng Xin
(19:00) yes
??
(19:00) Good.
(19:01) I understand that you need me tonight?
Feng Xin
(19:01) well yeah that was the idea but its a bit late now
(19:01) ?
??
(19:01) Do you want me there or not?
Feng Xin blinked down at his phone screen. He’d had absolutely no idea what to expect, but it hadn’t been this. Sure, he doubted he would receive typical corporate-style customer service, but this abrasive passive-aggression was still a surprise. He was paying this person, after all.
Feng Xin
(19:02) i mean sure if youre free
??
(19:03) Address?
Feng Xin texted over the address of the restaurant, scowling down at the message chain the entire time. This was going to be a long two weeks if this person was going to be this abrupt the entire time. Xie Lian was bound to ask why they were together as soon as they had a moment alone. Someone like this was not his type at all. He’d have to come up with a believable explanation. Maybe this person just wasn’t comfortable around strangers. Yes, that would work.
??
(19:04) Go inside and tell them I’m running late. Tell me what table you’re sitting at and I’ll be there in 15.
Feng Xin
(19:04) ???????
(19:04) what are you talking about
(19:04) thats it?
??
(19:05) ? What else do you need right now?
Feng Xin
(19:05) idk your name maybe
(19:05) what you look like
(19:05) i need something
(19:05) i dont even know your pronouns
??
(19:06) Pick whatever name you want. I’ll go with it. You and your friends will find out what I look like in about 13 minutes. My pronouns are he/him.
Feng Xin
(19:06) i dont want to pick a name for you????
(19:06) just tell me what it is
He received no response. Feng Xin waited another two minutes, even though he was definitely late now, but his mystery boyfriend didn’t answer. At least he knew that much, he supposed; fumbling his way through avoiding any reference to his partner’s gender would be way too awkward, not to mention obvious.
‘Feng Xin!’ Xie Lian called without a care for the other diners when he finally relented and entered the restaurant. ‘We were getting worried!’
‘Sorry, I got held up.’ He sat down in the chair beside Xie Lian, avoiding looking at the empty seat opposite him. He ordered water from the waiter hovering awkwardly beside the table, despite really wanting something a little stronger. A clear head was definitely needed more than liquid courage for this.
Hua Cheng peered at him through sharp, mismatched eyes. ‘Didn’t you say you were bringing someone, Feng Xin?’ he asked, all polite curiosity on the surface with an underlying hint of a mocking sneer.
Urging his pounding heart to calm down, Feng Xin met his red-and-brown gaze with a tight smile. ‘He’s running a little late. Work.’ He glanced at Xie Lian. ‘He asked me to apologise.’
‘Oh, that’s okay!’ said Xie Lian, his warm eyes gleaming. ‘I can’t wait to finally meet him. He must be special. You’re never been this secretive about a relationship before, Feng Xin.’
A coil of guilt curled around his heart and squeezed. He tried his best to smile in a way he hoped looked coy instead and busied himself with his phone.
Feng Xin
(19:09) table 8
(19:09) im wearing the yellow tie
??
(19:10) Yellow? Really?
Feng Xin
(19:10) whats your name
(19:11) whats wrong with yellow?
‘Xin-ge!’ Shi Qingxuan called, leaning across Xie Lian to get as close to Feng Xin as she could. ‘You promise he’s coming this time?? I can’t wait to meet him! What’s his name? How did you two meet??’
‘Qingxuan…’ He Xuan tried to step in, setting his hand on one of hers.
‘What? I’m not being too pushy, am I?? I just want to know about Xin-ge’s new sweetheart!’
Feng Xin had never been more glad for his thick skin. His cheeks felt aflame. He averted his gaze to examine his water glass. It wasn’t an interesting tumbler by any means, but it was easier to withstand than the curious eyes peering at him from the rest of the table. ‘…I’ll let him introduce himself when he gets here.’
It was fine. It would be fine. He’d let his companion introduce himself to his friends. If he wanted to give a fake name, that was fine. Feng Xin just didn’t want to give him one, like naming a pet. That was just…too strange.
‘Fine, fine…’ Shi Qingxuan relented with a pout. Then she turned to Feng Xin again with a bright, sweet smile. ‘He’s good to you, though, right?’
Feng Xin swallowed and tried to smile back. ‘Of course.’
‘Forgive me for being so late.’
Feng Xin should have known he was fucked from that voice alone. It was neither high nor deep, but decorous and lilting, and smooth as silk. He kept his gaze fixed on Xie Lian for a second, bracing himself to meet his new boyfriend. Xie Lian’s eyes widened a fraction as they landed on the seat opposite him, and Feng Xin whipped his head around to look.
He felt his jaw drop.
Sliding into the last empty chair was the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on.
He was tall, easily as tall as Feng Xin, but slender with elegant long limbs. He was wearing a slate grey suit without a tie, his blazer open over a deep blue satin shirt. His hands were pale, almost as white as porcelain, with long thin fingers decorated with dark nail polish. A long ponytail cascaded down over one shoulder, deep black and shining like spilled ink. Two long strands framed his white face, a dusting of pretty pink high on his cheekbones. His lips were pale and delicate. His eyes were just as dark, depthless pools of obsidian gazing right at him, framed by thick black lashes.
Beautiful, but striking too. Feng Xin couldn’t imagine this man going anywhere without attracting attention from every eye in the room. He should be a model. He was so obviously out of everyone’s league. Definitely out of Feng Xin’s.
Hua Cheng reached over and plucked the glass from his slack fingers. ‘Well? Are you going to introduce us, Feng Xin?’ he asked.
The beautiful man turned his head to regard Hua Cheng beside him, eyes darting over him. The corners of his mouth turned up, but it didn’t look much like a smile. Then his dark eyes flicked back over to Feng Xin. ‘Will you introduce your friends, Feng Xin?’
Damn. He lost his chance. Feng Xin cleared his throat and shook his head to try and straighten his thoughts out. ‘U-um. Yeah, of course. This is Xie Lian, my best and oldest friend, the groom. This is Hua Cheng, the other groom. This is He Xuan, the other groomsman, and his girlfriend, Shi Qingxuan.’ Feng Xin swallowed and shot a plaintive glance at the pale beauty sitting opposite him. He gazed back, his smile small and his eyes unfathomable. ‘This is… This is- Fu Yao.’
Hua Cheng shot a cutting glance straight into him.
Why are names so hard to come up with on the spot?!
‘A-Yao!’ Shi Qingxuan squealed, like she was meeting a celebrity more than an acquaintance’s boyfriend. ‘Xin-ge was keeping you such a secret! Where’ve you been? What do you do?? Xin-ge said you were caught up at work!’
If “Fu Yao” was at all overwhelmed by her overfamiliarity, he didn’t show it. He looked over at her with a slightly warmer smile. ‘I’m in sales,’ he answered without missing a beat. ‘I had a client on the phone. I couldn’t just hang up on them. You know how it is.’
‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Fu Yao,’ said Xie Lian, smiling his warmest smile. ‘I was starting to think Feng Xin would try to keep you hidden away forever.’
‘I rather thought the same of you,’ Fu Yao answered, nodding his thanks to the waiter who brought a glass of water for him. ‘Feng Xin talks about you so much. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for ages—I nearly didn’t believe him when he invited me to dinner with you all tonight.’
Xie Lian turned to Feng Xin with wide, shining eyes. ‘You talk about me?’
‘…Of course I do. You’re my best friend,’ he answered. It wasn’t really a lie; he talked about Xie Lian to anyone who’d listen. Perhaps too much. More than once, a colleague had gotten the impression that Feng Xin had a bit of a crush.
He didn’t, of course. Xie Lian was very happy with Hua Cheng, and Feng Xin was happy that he was happy. Even if he didn’t like the man who made him happy.
The arrival of their food provided a brief reprieve. It didn’t escape Feng Xin’s notice that Fu Yao waited for everyone else to pick their veggies before dropping a tiny sliver of lotus root into the spicy broth. It was easier to look at the pot than Fu Yao. His sharp beauty was blinding, and he couldn’t bring himself to talk directly to him even when the two other couples descended into private chatter.
‘So, Feng Xin,’ Hua Cheng began as they waited for their food to cook. He set his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers in a way that made him look a bit like a mob boss. The curl of his smile did not help. ‘You’ve never told us how you and Fu Yao met.’
‘…Um-’
‘Do you know the bar on the river through the park?’ Fu Yao interrupted without looking up from his napkin, carefully tearing it into even strips.
‘Yes?’ Xie Lian answered.
‘Feng Xin bumped into me there.’ He glanced up with a slight smile, a glint in his eye. ‘Literally. Poured his drink all down my shirt.’
‘…Hey-!’
Fu Yao flashed a wink in his direction and Feng Xin forgot how to speak. ‘He got so panicky about it. He offered to pay for my dry cleaning, so I took his phone number to hold him to it. He looked like such a dopey idiot that it was kind of adorable, and I didn’t really mind the texts he kept sending me afterwards.’
‘Makes sense, makes sense!’ said Shi Qingxuan, nodding.
‘I-! I don’t think that’s quite how it went,’ Feng Xin protested. He couldn’t decide what was worse: the story that made him look like a complete idiot, or the fact that the other four seemed to find it entirely believable.
Fu Yao grinned at him, but there was something cold about it. ‘No? I still have the receipt, Feng Xin. Do you want me to pull it out to prove it?’
Feng Xin nudged his foot with his toe under the table. ‘If I kept texting, it’s just because you kept replying- Ow!’ He nearly broke his nose against the table as he lurched down to hold his throbbing shin.
Beside them, Xie Lian shared a glance with Hua Cheng. ‘So… How long have you guys been together?’
‘Four months,’ Feng Xin answered through gritted teeth. That one was easy, at least.
‘So you’d only just started dating when we sent out the wedding invites?’
‘Yep,’ said Fu Yao. ‘He was so cute when he tried to ask if I’d be his plus-one. He stuttered so much that he had to show me the invite before I understood.’
What was this guy’s problem?! He was supposed to be helping to make Feng Xin look less like a pathetic, lonely fool. They were supposed to be behaving like they at least liked each other. Feng Xin felt more like punching this guy in the face than kissing him.
Well. No, he still wouldn’t say no to kissing him. After punching him.
Their main courses saved them from more of the interrogation. Conversation moved to the actual purpose of getting together, which was to go over the itinerary for the next two weeks. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng had opted for a weird amalgamation of western and eastern traditions, but Fu Yao listened and nodded along like he already knew exactly what was going on. There were decorations to be made and displayed at Paradise Manor, lunches with guests ahead of the wedding, ceremonies to observe, and both stag nights to attend.
Feng Xin, and thus Fu Yao, were expected to participate in everything.
‘Feng Xin, you and Fu Yao are still coming over to Paradise Manor tomorrow, right?’
‘Right,’ said Feng Xin. ‘I- We can be there after lunch if you think it’ll give us enough time?’
‘Ah, about that…’ Xie Lian glanced at Hua Cheng, and then turned back with a smile that meant Feng Xin wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. ‘San Lang and I were talking about it, and we thought it might be easier if you guys just moved in with us until the wedding?’
A slice of chicken fell from Feng Xin’s chopsticks. ‘...What? Why?’
‘Well-’ Xie Lian glanced again at Hua Cheng. ‘It’s just… We’ve got so much left to sort out, and I don’t know if we can do it on our own.’ His eyes widened, wet and shiny. Pleading.
Xie Lian came from wealth. His family had been part of the upper elite, before his parents’ death and the following scandal that destroyed everything. Even after so long living so far below the poverty line that he’d disappeared from Feng Xin’s life entirely for several years, he still knew how to pull that expression to get exactly what he wanted.
He didn’t do it often, and he would never do it for minor or trivial things. But he still knew how. Feng Xin blamed Hua Cheng for encouraging it. His penchant for worshipping Xie Lian almost like a god was, quite frankly, a little disturbing.
Feng Xin glanced across the table at Fu Yao. Moving into someone stranger’s house for two full weeks wasn’t what he’d agreed to. But he didn’t look shocked or angry or horrified at the idea; he just looked back at Feng Xin with that small not-smile, waiting for him to answer for them both.
‘...It’s fine with me, I don’t have anything else planned. But Fu Yao has work…’
Fu Yao shook his head and the curl of his mouth turned into a sugary sweet smile, the curves of his eyes turning to crescents. Too sweet. It didn’t look at all natural. It was terrifying. ‘I’m owed some time off work anyway. I’ll pull some strings, see if I can take the time off at short notice so I can help.’
Xie Lian brightened like the damn sun. ‘Oh, are you sure? It won’t be too inconvenient for your work?’
‘My manager won’t be happy, but she owes me a favour. Several, actually.’
‘We really don’t want you to get into any trouble…’
Fu Yao blinked, his brow twitching, but it was such a tiny movement that Feng Xin couldn’t be sure he hadn’t imagined it. ‘Well, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.’
‘How sweet!’ Shi Qingxuan gushed. ‘Xuanxuan, you’d take time off from work for me like that, wouldn’t you?!’
‘No.’
‘No-?! How could you-?!’
‘You’re the best,’ said Xie Lian, ignoring the bickering pair. He turned to Feng Xin. ‘Isn’t he?’
‘...Yeah.’ Feng Xin tried to smile. If this were real, if Fu Yao were really his boyfriend, he’d reach over and take his hand. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d have his own bitten off if he tried, despite Fu Yao’s persistent smile.
Feng Xin didn’t taste much of his meal after that, and passed on dessert. His head was too full, his thoughts too loud and too fast. He didn’t like the idea of moving into Hua Cheng’s ridiculously large mansion in the first place, let alone dragging a stranger with him. After just a few hours, he wasn’t sure he’d done a great job of convincing anyone that he’d even met Fu Yao before. There was no way they’d survive twenty-four-seven scrutiny.
Later, as the six of them said their goodbyes in front of the restaurant, Fu Yao lingered close to Feng Xin’s side, close enough that they were almost touching. Then, loud enough for everyone else to hear, he tilted his head to one side and asked, ‘Can I stay the night at yours?’
Taken aback by just how cute his expression looked, it took a moment for Feng Xin to form a coherent and natural-sounding answer. ‘Uh, yes. Yeah! Sure.’
Xie Lian frowned, swaddled in Hua Cheng’s embrace, and Feng Xin’s heart gave a panicked thump. But then he smiled again and said, ‘We’ll see both of you tomorrow, hopefully!’
Fu Yao smiled back at him, and Feng Xin thought it looked a little less strained. ‘I hope so. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, A-Yao!’ Shi Qingxuan called over, He Xuan half dragging her away impatiently. ‘It was great meeting you! Can’t wait to see you again!!’
‘Night, Feng Xin,’ said Xie Lian, escaping Hua Cheng’s arms to give him a hug.
He Xuan and Shi Qingxuan left first to find a taxi. Hua Cheng shepherded Xie Lian away to his car, some huge crimson monster of a thing that was better suited to the wilderness than any city.
Without a word, Fu Yao turned and walked in the opposite direction.
‘U-um!’ Feng Xin spluttered, almost tripping over his own toes in his hurry to catch up. ‘Did you mean that? You want to stay at mine-?’
‘No, idiot.’ His voice was still mellow, decorous, neither high nor low and smooth as silk. But any pretence at pleasantness was gone. Feng Xin’s steps faltered, stunned. ‘We’re going for a drink. We’ve got some things to discuss.’
Fu Yao led him to a bar a few streets away, some hole-in-the-wall type of place that could seat maybe twenty people at most. Music played directly from some obscure radio station Feng Xin didn’t recognise, where the hosts talked too much and spoke over the songs for some inexplicable reason. Fu Yao didn’t expect Feng Xin to pay for both of them, at least, but he didn’t speak again until they folded themselves into a tiny booth in the corner. He took a swig from the glass bottle, set it down on a coaster and then fixed Feng Xin with a sharp look. ‘So.’
Feng Xin stared into his glass, lamenting the fact that the rim wasn’t wide enough for him to drown himself in it. ‘...I haven’t done this before.’
‘You don’t say.’
‘Do you have to be such a prick about it?’ he demanded, scowling across the table. ‘What was all that back there, anyway? I “bumped into you and ruined your shirt”? What kind of meet-cute is that?’
‘The less flattering it is, the more believable,’ Fu Yao answered smoothly. ‘Besides, you look like the type of guy to pour his drink all over some poor bastard and then freak out about it.’
Feng Xin’s fingers tensed around his glass. He closed his eyes and counted to five in his head before responding. ‘Is the bitchiness included, or am I supposed to pay extra for that?’
Fu Yao’s answering smile was both as sarcastic as sin and cold as ice. ‘All-inclusive. Intimacy notwithstanding. If you want to fuck me, that’ll cost you extra. And we discuss it in advance to avoid any confusion.’
‘That won’t be necessary.’
Fu Yao raised one eyebrow.
‘Don’t get me wrong, you’re stunning. It’s just- The idea of paying you to let me- Anyway, that’s not what this is about.’
‘Fine.’ After another long swig of beer, Fu Yao tossed his hair over his shoulder and seemed to relax a little into his seat. ‘Then what is this about? Your friend or your ex-wife?’
Feng Xin frowned. ‘Did I mention Jian Lan?’
Fu Yao blinked at him. Then he closed his eyes with a heavy, exasperated sigh. In English, he said, ‘You told me over the phone, you utter moron.’
‘Oh.’ It was easier to recognise him when he spoke English. In Mandarin, he hadn’t noticed it was the same voice at all. He ran the tip of his index finger around the rim of his glass, staring into its murky depths. The idea of sharing the details of his vulnerabilities with a complete stranger wasn’t exactly appealing, especially one that wasn’t even particularly nice. But he supposed Fu Yao needed to know what he was getting into.
Just consider it like therapy, he told himself. With a therapist that’s a bit of a bitch.
Feng Xin took a bracing breath and looked up. ‘No, it’s not about her. My best friend told me he was getting married about six months ago, approximately one month after my divorce was finalised. He then spent about two months fretting over me and how I was doing, rather than letting himself get excited over his own wedding. So I told him I’d found someone else, and promised I’d bring them to his wedding. I spent four months dating on and off in secret to try and find anyone to bring as my plus one. But it didn’t work out.’
Fu Yao’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to console him, and didn’t insult him. ‘You could’ve just said you broke up before the wedding.’
Feng Xin shook his head. ‘He’d spend his entire fucking wedding day trying to look after me if I did that.’
‘Hm.’ Long pale fingers started to play with the half-empty beer bottle, tilting it from side to side on the coaster as they listened to the slosh of liquid inside. ‘Are you in love with him?’
‘Oh, don’t you start with that,’ Feng Xin sighed, gulping down the rest of his own drink.
‘Do many people ask that?’
‘More than one, which is too many.’
Fu Yao smirked. ‘If that many people seem to think so, maybe you need to take a look inward. You didn’t actually answer the question.’
Feng Xin fixed him with a hard stare. ‘Xie Lian is my best friend. Yes, I love him. But I’m not in love with him.’
‘Alright, fine.’ Fu Yao shrugged. ‘It’s not like I particularly care anyway. So, what exactly do you want from me?’
‘Just… I don’t know, be around often enough to convince them we’re together? That you’re happy with me, and I’m happy with you, so Xie Lian stops worrying and actually starts enjoying his own wedding?’
Fu Yao rolled his eyes. ‘I’m moving into their place with you tomorrow, so being around is already covered. I can convince them I’m happy with you, but whether you’re happy with me or not is on you.’ He leant forward across the table, looking at Feng Xin with eyes so dark that he could see his own wan reflection. ‘Some ground rules: You can touch me and kiss me in front of others as far as you think necessary to convince them we’re in a relationship, but any kind of private intimacy costs extra.’
‘I already said-’
‘I don’t care, I’m just telling you the rules. You can’t hit me or scream at me or try to blackmail me in any way.’
Feng Xin blinked, horrified. People actually did those things?
‘You can tell me what to wear within reason, but nothing with the purpose of humiliating me. If I do or say anything you don’t like or don’t agree with, you bring it up with me in private. Any questions?’
Feng Xin had many, none of which he was sure he wanted to know the answer to. ‘...I have no interest in abusing you in any way. I don’t want to tell you what to wear.’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t care what you wear, as long as you don’t wear red or white for the wedding day.’
‘That goes without saying. Do you want me to wear makeup? Do you care if I do?’
He shrugged. ‘Your choice.’
‘Okay. Do you want me to help develop this relationship into something believable, or do you just want me to follow your lead? Or…do you want me to stick close to you, look pretty and stay quiet?’
‘What? No. Why would I want that? I’d carry around a bunch of flowers if I just wanted to hold something pretty.’
A snorted laugh escaped Fu Yao before he smothered the rest of the sound. ‘It’s a common request. Usually it’s the women that get clients like that, but I’ve had a few too.’ He shook his head like he’d gotten side-tracked. ‘Doesn’t matter. What do you want?’
Feng Xin gnawed at his lower lip, considering. ‘Have you been in a serious relationship before? Not… this, not pretend. A real one.’
‘I’m not sure that’s any of your business.’
He sighed. ‘I don’t need to know anything about it. I just want you to behave like that. Like you would in a real relationship. How you would behave, not some idealised person I want you to be.’
Fu Yao stared at him. He wasn’t smiling or smirking anymore. He’d closed up and masked himself. ‘That’s not the purpose of this. You’re not dating me. I’m playing the part of someone you would date. You don’t know if you’d like someone like me.’
Feng Xin shrugged. ‘I don’t care. It’s just for two weeks, right? I’d rather play it as real as we can. How bad can you be?’
‘...Fine. Whatever.’ He rolled his eyes like it was the most ridiculous request he’d ever received.
‘What’s your name?’
‘For the next two weeks, my name is Fu Yao.’
‘I want to know your real name.’
‘You’ve already told your friends-’
‘I know, and that’s fine, they don’t need to know. I want to know.’
Fu Yao finished off his drink, taking his time to drain the bottle. He banged it back onto the coaster with a frosty smile in Feng Xin’s direction. ‘Tough. Are we done here?’
‘...I guess.’
‘What’s your address?’
Feng Xin frowned at him. ‘Are you actually coming back to mine?’
‘No.’ Fu Yao rolled his eyes again. ‘I’ll be there tomorrow around lunchtime so we can go over to this “Paradise Manor” together as though I’d spent the night at yours.’ He paused and then asked, ‘Paradise Manor isn’t a brothel, is it? It sounds like one.’
Feng Xin snorted his beer across the table. Fu Yao lurched back, his mouth twisting in disgust. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ Feng Xin coughed, wiping up the spray with a napkin. ‘It’s just, I said the same thing when Xie Lian told me about it. I don’t even think it has an official name, it’s just what Hua Cheng calls it.’ He watched Fu Yao dab at a few droplets that had landed on the back of his hand. ‘...You sure you’re okay staying with me for the entire two weeks?’
‘You’re paying for my time anyway. It makes no difference to me where I am.’ He threw the napkin aside. ‘Give me your address.’
Feng Xin jolted awake to the sound of his phone vibrating loudly on his bedside cabinet. With a sleepy groan, he rolled over onto his side and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Xie Lian’s name flashed up on the screen.
‘Hi,’ Feng Xin mumbled. ‘Am I late?’
‘No, no, you’re fine,’ said Xie Lian, bright and peppy and had probably been awake for hours already. ‘It’s only eleven. Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just still in bed.’
‘Oh. Oh, um…’ Xie Lian cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t…interrupt anything, did I?’
Feng Xin frowned at the ceiling. His brain was still half in sleep-mode, resisting his every attempt to wake it up. It was like wading through a swamp trying to figure out what he was talking about.
He remembered with a bolt of anxiety that Fu Yao was supposed to still be with him. ‘O-oh, no, no, you didn’t. He’s in the shower.’
‘...On his own?’
Heat crept into his cheeks. ‘Well, I’m not talking to you from the bathroom, am I?’ he retorted with a strained chuckle.
Xie Lian didn’t laugh. He was quiet for a moment, and then sighed. ‘I’m really sorry for prying, Feng Xin, I am, but I can’t help worrying.’ Feng Xin’s heart did a kickflip on one of his ribs. ‘Did…you guys have a fight or something?’
‘No, we’re okay… Why do you ask?’
‘It’s just… I’m not sure, you guys seemed a bit awkward with each other last night, and you barely even looked at him.’ Of course it was awkward, Feng Xin lamented privately. They didn’t know each other. ‘And when San Lang and I first got together, we never showered alone-’
‘Ah-ah! Too much information, Dianxia.’ Feng Xin bit his lip and tried to laugh. ‘Really, we’re fine. Fu Yao’s just not really a fan of being overly affectionate in public, and doesn’t…like being touched. Much. I guess.’ He cleared his throat. ‘And I guess we were both feeling a bit awkward last night… He was nervous about meeting you, and I really wanted him to like you all, and for you to like him…’
‘Oh, Feng Xin!’ Xie Lian’s relieved smile was clear as day. ‘That’s so sweet. Of course we like him! I’m really looking forward to getting to know him better, so I hope he can come and stay with you here. It’s so good of you to respect his boundaries like that too. I’m proud of you.’
Feng Xin chuckled awkwardly. Then he thought he might be starting to sound hysterical, so stopped.
‘Anyway, we’ll see you later? Both of you?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, he managed to get the time off work, so he’ll come with me. Are you still sure it’s okay for us to stay at Hua Cheng’s place?’
‘Of course it is. San Lang loves you too.’
‘…Dianxia.’
Xie Lian clicked his tongue. ‘Don’t call me that! He does. He-’
‘He loves you enough to tolerate me, Dianxia. Come on.’
‘That’s not true! Anyway!’ he went on before Feng Xin could argue further. ‘Tell Fu Yao I’m looking forward to meeting him again. Hopefully we’ll have time to chat a bit.’
‘Yeah. We’ll head over after lunch, okay?’
‘See you later!’
Feng Xin hung up, let his phone fall onto his bed, and turned over face-down into his pillow to muffle a groan.
This was the most terrible idea he’d ever had in his life. There was no way he could pull this off. Hua Cheng had given him weird looks throughout the entire dinner, and Xie Lian had picked up on the fact they were behaving oddly. He couldn’t possibly fix any of that awkwardness in time for their visit to Paradise Manor that afternoon and oh God they were going to have to share a room weren’t they-
He hauled himself out of bed and stumbled straight into a hot shower.
Ten minutes later, Feng Xin was still towelling himself off when there was a knock on his front door. It wasn’t midday yet—too early for Fu Yao to show up. It was probably just a cold caller. He glanced down at himself, covered only in a white towel; he could just peek through the door and tell them to go away.
Still scrubbing at the hair at the back of his neck that was persistent on dripping chilly droplets onto his shoulders, he pulled the door open less than an inch to peer through.
Fu Yao knocked it open and strode right past him. ‘Good morning.’
‘…Morning,’ said Feng Xin, addressing the empty corridor outside. Slowly, he closed the door again. ‘Didn’t we say lunchtime?’
‘Better to be early than on time.’ Fu Yao pulled a suitcase on wheels behind him and stopped in the middle of Feng Xin’s apartment, casting a glance around. At least he kept any judgement off his face. ‘Do you always answer the door naked?’
Feng Xin felt a muscle twitch in his brow. ‘I wasn’t expecting you this early. I was planning to greet you in a three-piece suit.’ Fu Yao turned to sneer at him. He’d tied his hair differently, only the top layer pulled out of his face while the rest fell to his lower back. Feng Xin forced his gaze to the suitcase instead, eyeing the sheer size of it. ‘I did say two weeks, right? Not two months?’
‘I brought options,’ said Fu Yao, tossing his hair over his shoulder and drawing Feng Xin’s eyes right back to him. ‘So you can choose.’
‘I already said I don’t want to tell you what to wear.’
‘You’re not. You’re telling me what’s appropriate, since no one last night actually mentioned the dress code for anything.’ Fu Yao rolled his eyes and manifested his phone from a magic pocket in skin tight black jeans. They had frayed rips all down the front of his thighs, revealing hints of snowy skin.
Feng Xin ripped his eyes away again.
Fu Yao snorted. ‘It’s fine. You can look.’
‘I really can’t.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Let me go get dressed and then I’ll make some lunch for us.’
He froze, thumbs going still over his phone screen as he looked up. ‘…You want to make me lunch?’
Feng Xin paused in the doorway to his bedroom. ‘Did you eat already?’
‘No.’
‘Are you going to charge me extra for feeding you?’
‘No.’
‘Then what’s the problem?’
Fu Yao gnawed on his lower lip for a moment, strikingly dark eyes narrowing. There was a thin sweep of eyeliner on his upper lashes, barely noticeable. ‘Can you even cook?’
‘Do you want lunch or not?’
‘…Yeah, fine. Whatever.’
‘God…’ Feng Xin muttered under his breath, disappearing into the sanctuary of his room with the door between them. He dressed quickly, throwing on dark jeans and a hoodie while he tried his best to not focus on the fact that there was an escort in his apartment.
Fu Yao had helped himself to one of the two chairs at his tiny dining table when he returned, still doomscrolling. Feng Xin made pancakes, and told himself he would’ve made pancakes for himself anyway—that this wasn’t any special effort for Fu Yao. Even though he didn’t have too many options for toppings, and barely enough flour. Fu Yao didn’t thank him, and didn’t say much while they ate. But he didn’t turn his nose up at the food either. He poured an ungodly amount of golden syrup on his stack and ate every bite.
When they finished, Feng Xin remembered that he had to pack his own case.
‘What did I say?’ Fu Yao mocked him with a smirk. ‘Better to be early than late. This is exactly why.’
‘I would’ve remembered if you hadn’t shown up so early!’
‘Sure you would’ve.’
He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, while Feng Xin threw a random assortment of casual clothes into a much smaller suitcase. He didn’t comment while Feng Xin rifled through his drawers, but his face looked unimpressed.
‘…You haven’t picked your own outfit for the wedding, have you?’ he asked as Feng Xin zipped his case closed.
He scowled at him over his shoulder. ‘Why?’
Fu Yao shrugged. ‘I’m a bit worried you’ll look like you just wandered in from the gym.’
‘I’m not going to spend the entire next two weeks in slacks for no reason.’
‘But you’ll spend them in sweats?’
‘So what?’
Fu Yao shook his head with a roll of his eyes. ‘Whatever. Let your best friend have a gym rat for a groomsman for all I care.’
‘I won’t be-!’
‘Shall we go?’ he interrupted, checking the time on his phone. ‘Doesn’t Xie Lian need you for something this afternoon?’
Feng Xin wanted to keep arguing, to point out that he was perfectly capable of dressing himself nicely. The fact that Xie Lian had chosen his suit, shirt, tie, shoes and pocket square was not indicative of incompetence.
…
Was it?
Xie Lian hadn’t picked out his outfit because he thought Feng Xin was incapable, had he?
Feng Xin hauled his suitcase off the bed with more force than necessary. ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’
Fu Yao’s suitcase barely fit in Feng Xin’s car. He also didn’t really help to make it fit. He slouched in the passenger seat, knees propped up on the dashboard, and helped himself to Feng Xin’s AUX cable.
‘Please, make yourself comfortable…’ Feng Xin grumbled, flopping into the driver’s seat after finally managing to shove the monster of a suitcase into the back. He turned the key in the ignition and yanked his seatbelt on.
‘You wanted me to behave like myself, so this is what you get.’ Fu Yao glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, glinting with what almost looked like a challenge. ‘Changed your mind?’
Feng Xin didn’t back down from challenges. He turned and smiled, too wide and tense. ‘Of course not. Darling.’ He pulled away from the curb.
Fu Yao wrinkled his nose. ‘Oh, you’re a pet-name guy.’
‘Don’t like pet names?’
‘They make me nauseous. Always so cheesy and fake.’
‘Fake?’
‘Mn. How many other people have you called darling, huh? What makes your attitude towards your current partner any different from seven or eight exes when you’re calling them all by the same name?’
Feng Xin glanced over at him before returning his attention to the road. ‘Bold of you to assume I have seven or eight exes,’ he mumbled.
‘The point stands. I’m speaking hypothetically, obviously. It doesn’t make a difference what you call me. ’
‘I guess.’
They drove the rest of the way in silence, listening to Fu Yao’s eclectic taste in music. Every song seemed to belong to a different era and genre. There was some mainstream stuff, some indie stuff, and some wild experimental stuff that just sounded like colourful noise. There were sonatas, some electronica, and some pieces created purely through human voices thrown into the mix too.
About halfway through the drive, Feng Xin wondered if it was a playlist purely designed to annoy him. Every time a new song began, Fu Yao would shoot a glance towards him, waiting for him to say something. He dismissed the thought a moment later; what would he gain by purposely antagonising a client?
‘Holy shit,’ Fu Yao said suddenly, staring out the windscreen as they drove up the long gravel driveway of Paradise Manor half an hour later.
‘Yeah. It’s ridiculous.’
The manor house was what Xie Lian called awe-inspiring. Feng Xin called it absurd. The architecture was beautiful, of course; Georgian and Victorian elements with its symmetrical grey stone and arched windows. But it was big enough to house about five large families, and currently only two people lived there.
‘Why didn’t you want to move into this place?’
‘Because Hua Cheng doesn’t like me very much, and I don’t particularly like having his wealth shoved in my face.’
Fu Yao glanced over at him. ‘Your best friend’s fiancé doesn’t like you?’
‘Nope.’ Feng Xin pulled over to the far side of the driveway to park under the east wing’s awning. ‘It’s fine. I don’t like him very much either.’
‘You’re letting your best friend marry a guy you don’t like?’
‘Xie Lian’s happy. That’s all that matters.’
‘Weird.’
Xie Lian appeared in the huge doorway of the manor, his loose dark hair stark against his soft white turtleneck. He ran over to them with a beaming smile as they climbed out. ‘Feng Xin!’
‘Oh yeah.’ Feng Xin turned quickly to Fu Yao, lowering his voice. ‘I told him you don’t like public affection and don’t like being touched.’
Fu Yao narrowed his eyes. ‘That determined to avoid touching me, huh?’
‘It’s not like that. It’s- Long story.’
‘Whatever.’ He shrugged. ‘It keeps your huge paws off me. You’re doing me a favour, actually.’
Feng Xin had to bite back an acidic retort as Xie Lian came within hearing range. His smile was infectious. The foul mood sparking to life in his chest died immediately. He caught his best friend in a hug that lifted him off his feet, squeezing him tight like he hadn’t seen him in months rather than twelve short hours.
‘Thank you for coming!’ said Xie Lian, squeezing back. ‘I know you didn’t really want to, but there’s just so much to do. And Fu Yao!’ Extricating himself from Feng Xin, Xie Lian hurried over to him. He reached out his hands, like he wanted to take hold of the other’s, but stopped himself and threaded his own fingers together instead. ‘Thank you so much. I hope you won’t get into any trouble at work for this.’
Fu Yao blinked at him, a flash of surprise crossing his face before it was gone again. ‘It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.’
‘I know it seems so self-important to ask for something so silly, but it’s such a big house, you know? There’s no way San Lang and I could decorate the whole place on our own.’
‘It’s your wedding. It’s not self-important or silly to make it perfect.’
Xie Lian looked like he could melt. He turned to glance at Feng Xin with wide, shining eyes, grinning broadly. There was so much unsaid in his expression that Feng Xin didn’t know how to respond. He just smiled back.
‘A-Yao! A-Yao!’
Shi Qingxuan barrelled across the gravel, arms outstretched, while He Xuan’s sleek black coupe was still rolling up behind her. She threw herself at Fu Yao. His eyes widened a split-second before he caught her, the sheer force of the hug threatening to knock him straight off his feet. ‘Uh, hello. Shi Qingxuan, right?’
‘He remembered!’ She cupped his cheeks in both hands. ‘Ah, you’re the cutest! Make sure Xin-ge treats you right!’ She turned to point at Feng Xin. ‘Treat him right, you hear?! Come on, let’s go, we’re painting banners!’
Hooking her arm through Fu Yao’s, she dragged him away from the car towards the manor’s front door.
‘Oh! Uh, Qingxuan…!’ Xie Lian tried to call after her, his expression morphing from friendly delight to panic in an instant. He turned to Feng Xin. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t think she realised he doesn’t like touching…’
‘I’m sure he’s fine,’ said Feng Xin, watching Fu Yao stumble trying to keep up with Shi Qingxuan. ‘Nobody minds a hug from Qingxuan, anyway.’
Xie Lian chuckled, his shoulders relaxing. ‘I suppose so.’
The interior of the mansion was just as lavish as its exterior. The period architecture extended inside to mix with modern interior design in a way that Xie Lian called, ‘respectful and classy.’ Feng Xin called it ostentatious.
They caught up to everyone else in the vast expanse of the living room in the east wing—which Feng Xin thought looked more like a parlour from the eighteenth century, modern expensive electricals aside. It was the one room in the house that hadn’t been decked out in modern furniture. There were reams of red cloth and red paper rolled up on one of the couches. Tubes of gold paint and ink were stacked up on the coffee table, pushed to one side to leave the middle of the room bare.
‘Getting right to it, are we?’ Feng Xin asked.
‘You’ve got to start earning your stay,’ Hua Cheng called from the other side of the room, already starting to measure out the cloth into long banners. ‘We’re not hosting you for free.’
‘You asked me!’ Feng Xin retorted, thrusting his finger in Hua Cheng’s direction.
Fu Yao, already sitting on the floor beside Shi Qingxuan, grabbed his sleeve and yanked him down before he could pick a real argument. Feng Xin huffed and picked up a pad of paper. He missed Xie Lian’s grin.
The six of them sat cross-legged on the floor like children, fighting with the cloth and losing scissors among the paper. After a couple of practice rounds of writing the wedding character Xi on plain white paper, both Feng Xin and Hua Cheng were banned from going anywhere near the paint and ink. Instead, they were relegated to measuring out banners, cutting out talismans and constructing paper lanterns.
Fu Yao was surprisingly talented with a calligraphy brush, almost matching Xie Lian’s graceful characters. He sat close to Feng Xin’s side, silently writing the characters over and over again in various sizes while everyone else laughed and joked.
Feng Xin pointed out that He Xuan cut out his talisman a little wonky so that it resembled a fish, and Shi Qingxuan defended his honour by climbing into his lap. He Xuan just kept on cutting like he didn’t notice she was there.
Hua Cheng took a break from cutting out strips of cloth and paper to draw a picture of Xie Lian in the wedding robes he hadn’t seen yet. Xie Lian turned so red and flustered that it took several minutes to get the pair of them back on track.
Fu Yao just kept on quietly writing, over and over onto any piece of cloth or paper that someone set in front of him. While he didn’t look shy or overwhelmed, Feng Xin couldn’t help but feel a little bit protective. Twice Feng Xin gently warded off Shi Qingxuan’s overeager, unsolicited touching before he remembered that Fu Yao had never actually said he had a problem with being touched. He blamed it on the fact that Fu Yao had chosen to sit so close to him, their arms brushing with every movement.
‘Look at this one!’ said Xie Lian a couple of hours later, bounding up with their largest banner so far in hand to stand on the couch to hold it up on display. It was so big that he entirely disappeared behind it, his fingers peeking out over the top with a few feet of fabric crumpled on the floor. The gold paint glinted. ‘It’s perfect! If we could do something to stop the edges fraying, it would look professional.’
‘If you have a sewing machine lying around somewhere, I can hem it for you.’
Everyone turned to Fu Yao. Xie Lian dropped the banner to peer over it. ‘You can sew?’
Fu Yao shrugged with delicate nonchalance, but his cheeks were a little pink. ‘It’s just hemming. You just need to have a steady hand and know how a sewing machine works.’
Xie Lian looked at Hua Cheng. ‘Do you have one, San Lang?’
Hua Cheng was peering with narrowed eyes in Fu Yao’s direction, but the suspicion slipped right off his face before he looked up at Xie Lian. ‘There could be one in the attic. The house came with a lot of furniture and stuff.’
‘Do you want to come and help me look for one?’ Although he asked with a gentle tone, like he truly wanted to leave the choice up to Fu Yao, his eyes were sparkling with obvious excitement.
Feng Xin didn’t think anyone would be able to resist such an expression. ‘You don’t have to-’
‘I offered, didn’t I?’ Fu Yao cut in, setting his calligraphy brush down. He climbed to his feet and followed Xie Lian out of the room, listening to his excited chatter with brief, polite responses.
‘So…’ said Hua Cheng once the pair of them had disappeared into the depths of the manor. ‘He seems. Nice. ’
‘Funnily enough, I said the exact same thing to Xie Lian when he introduced me to you, ’ Feng Xin shot back, turning his attention back to the half-finished lantern in his lap. He’d managed to twist the bamboo sticks much neater than his previous attempt, and hoped Xie Lian would actually hang this one somewhere.
‘I think he is nice!’ Shi Qingxuan protested. ‘He’s very sweet, and so kind to come help us out at such short notice. You did well to find him, Xin-ge. I didn’t think someone like him would be your type, but do you think you’ll try to keep him?’
‘Uh-’ A thin bamboo stick snapped between his fingers. ‘I don’t know. It’s a bit early, isn’t it?’
‘Not at all! Xuanxuan and I knew we were perfect for each other after two months. Right?’
‘Mn,’ grunted He Xuan.
‘And Hua Cheng proposed to Xie Lian after six!’
Fu Yao and I met each other last night, Feng Xin wanted to protest. But it didn’t even matter; he had Fu Yao for exactly two weeks. There was no point protesting anything. ‘Because Hua Cheng is intense and weird, and Xie Lian is into that. For some godforsaken reason.’
‘…Did you forget I’m still here?’
‘No.’
That evening, Feng Xin, He Xuan and Shi Qingxuan managed to talk Xie Lian out of cooking dinner. Hua Cheng did absolutely nothing to help convince him, the only one of them with an iron stomach tough enough to withstand anything Xie Lian threw into a pan. Fu Yao fixed Feng Xin with a confused stare while He Xuan listed his extensive order to the shady pizza place nearby, which was a much safer option.
‘Trust me, it’s for the best,’ Feng Xin muttered, suppressing a shudder at the memory of the last meal of Xie Lian’s he’d had to ingest.
‘Couldn’t someone just help him?’ Fu Yao asked in a low murmur.
‘We’ve tried. Multiple times. Everything ends up charred, every time.’
Later, after getting through four large pizza boxes between the six of them, two of which were exclusively He Xuan’s, Feng Xin caught Fu Yao trying to hide a yawn. It was only about ten o’clock in the evening, but they’d been working nonstop on banners, lanterns and talismans since lunchtime. He’d been awake long before Feng Xin too, and he was acting a part for a group of people he didn’t know. It was understandable he’d be exhausted.
‘Dianxia, do you mind if I head to bed now?’
‘Huh?’ Xie Lian looked up, draped over Hua Cheng’s lap on the couch. ‘Already?’
‘Yeah. Sorry. I’m pretty tired.’ Feng Xin glanced over at Fu Yao. ‘Want to come with me?’
Fu Yao shrugged without looking at him. ‘Sure.’
Xie Lian had shown them to one of their seven guest rooms earlier in the day. They both knew there was one king sized bed waiting for them in the guest room as they climbed the staircase to the second floor. It was still a jolt to Feng Xin’s system when the door opened to reveal it again now that they were supposed to share it to sleep.
He sighed heavily as soon as the door clicked closed behind them. He hadn’t touched Fu Yao all day, hadn’t talked to him in any kind of explicitly affectionate way, and steered clear of pet names, but it still felt like they’d both been putting on a performance since arriving.
‘It’s gonna be a long two weeks for you if you’re already tired,’ said Fu Yao, perching on the edge of the canopy bed. The linen was crisp white with a ridiculous number of crimson scatter cushions decorating the headboard, matching crimson curtains hanging from the posts.
‘I saw you yawning. Thought you’d appreciate it.’
Fu Yao turned a scowl on him. ‘I was fine.’
‘Then you’re welcome to go back down and join them.’ Feng Xin went to one of the three wardrobes in the room, hunting down a spare blanket. The bedroom was so big that there was space for a seating area at one end with a fairly big sofa, as though it could double up as a sixth living room if that would ever be necessary.
Fu Yao didn’t move. ‘What are you doing?’
‘You can take the bed.’ He pulled a thick tartan blanket down from the top shelf of the wardrobe.
‘Oh? You don’t feel like sharing?’
Feng Xin clenched his jaw. ‘I’m giving you the entire bed to yourself. Is that a problem?’
‘It’s weird. Worried I’ll entrap you into paying me more if we sleep in the same bed?’
He grabbed one of the larger cushions from the bed and raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Not until you just said it, no. I just get clingy when I sleep and I don’t think you’d find it very comfortable.’
Fu Yao twisted to watch Feng Xin throw his makeshift bedding onto the sofa over his shoulder, crossing one leg over the other and leaning on his palm. ‘Do I give the impression that I don’t like being touched?’
‘I just said that because Xie Lian was asking why we weren’t…I don’t know, holding hands, I guess, at dinner yesterday. I’m just being consistent.’
‘And you’re expecting him to come in and check if you’re cuddling me?’
Feng Xin huffed, impatience starting to get the better of him. ‘My wife never enjoyed me clinging to her at night, even during our honeymoon. She said I ran hotter than a stove. I can’t imagine you enjoying it any more than her.’
‘That so? I can’t imagine what went wrong in that marriage.’
He flinched. Turning his back on Fu Yao, he patted the blanket into place with more aggression than strictly necessary. An uncomfortably long moment later, Fu Yao slid off the bed and headed for the ensuite. ‘I’ll use the bathroom first.’
‘Mn,’ Feng Xin grunted, and then fell back onto the sofa, one foot dangling over the arm and the other still on the floor.
For the next two days, the six of them did nothing but eat, sleep, and make wedding decorations. The largest banners hung from the upstairs windows at the front of the manor, with numerous smaller ones turned into tapestries for the entrance hall and living rooms. Lanterns and talismans decorated every beam and flat wall. The largely black and white decor of the manor house turned red in a matter of three days.
Slowly, Fu Yao started to open up to the others. He still stuck close to Feng Xin, although he assumed that was mostly just to convince them they were actually a couple, but he started to speak up more in conversation. He also stopped hiding from Shi Qingxuan quite so much.
Feng Xin still didn’t feel comfortable enough to touch him or talk to him in any overly familiar way, but he thought they were starting to look less awkward together. Less like complete strangers, at least.
On the evening of the third day living at the manor, as they were finishing up dinner, Xie Lian clapped his hands and demanded that everyone stop working for the rest of the night. He pointed at Feng Xin with a mischievous little smile and said, ‘Movie Night. University style.’
Feng Xin gave a theatrical groan, reminded of countless nights spent cuddled up to Xie Lian on their old, musty student dorm couch, watching movies they both thought were terrible and eating all sorts of horrifically unhealthy snacks. The nostalgia hit him with equal parts fondness and melancholy. ‘Really? Aren’t we too busy?’
‘Nope! This is part of mine and San Lang’s responsibilities in the lead up to our wedding: quality time with our closest friends,’ Xie Lian insisted. ‘The truth is, we didn’t ask you guys to come and stay with us just to help out. We wanted to spend the time with you all during this important time. Right, San Lang?’
‘Right, Gege,’ said Hua Cheng with a simpering smile. He Xuan slid a dark, unimpressed look in his direction. No one but Feng Xin seemed to notice.
‘What’s “university style”?’ Shi Qingxuan asked, perched right on the edge of her seat, eyes alight with intrigue.
‘Pyjamas, snacks and huddling!’ Xie Lian announced. ‘No exceptions. We’re going back to being eighteen and lazy with no responsibilities. We’re going to chill out and relax and just be friends for the night.’
Shi Qingxuan let out a quiet squeal and bounced up onto her feet, hauling He Xuan with her. Let's get ready! I have the cutest PJ set for this, don’t I, Xuanxuan??’ she chattered as they disappeared from the dining room.
Xie Lian turned a smile on Fu Yao. ‘Is that alright with you?’
‘Of course,’ said he answered easily, nevertheless looking slightly surprised to have been asked. ‘As long as it’s not a horror flick.’
‘You don’t like horror?’ Xie Lian asked.
‘It’s not that. They’re just all laughably bad.’
Feng Xin chuckled. ‘Those are the best ones. The whole point is to laugh at the bad acting and the lame special effects.’
Fu Yao gave him a dubious glance that may have been masking disgust.
Upstairs in their guest room, Feng Xin stripped off his sweats and t-shirt for…a different pair of sweats and the t-shirt he’d slept in the night before. Fu Yao sat in the centre of the canopy bed, arms and legs crossed. ‘...I don’t have pyjamas,’ he admitted tersely, watching Feng Xin ruffle his hair out of style to flop across his forehead instead. ‘What are we, four?’
‘My four-year-old’s PJs would suit you quite nicely,’ Feng Xin snipped back. He swept a hand down himself. ‘It’s fine, I don’t either. Just wear what you sleep in.’
‘I’m not going down there in my boxers.’
Feng Xin sighed. ‘You don’t have one pair of sweats in that trunk of yours?’
Fu Yao sniffed and tossed his hair over his shoulder. ‘Do I look like the type to wear sweats to you? I’m here to impress your friends. I’m not going to slouch around in the most unflattering clothing on the market.’
Throwing his suitcase back open, Feng Xin yanked out another pair of sweats and a clean t-shirt. ‘Here. These should fit you well enough.’
‘It’s fine. I just won’t change.’
‘Yes, you will. Tight jeans and an office shirt defies the point of Movie Night. You’re supposed to relax.’
Fu Yao snapped a glare towards him. ‘It’s not an office shirt! Besides-’ he rolled his eyes in clear exasperation- ‘I’m working, Feng Xin. I’m not supposed to relax.’
The reminder was irritating. Feng Xin thrust the clothes at him again. ‘I’m paying you regardless, Fu Yao. You may as well relax and try to enjoy yourself a bit, because I’m fucking telling you to .’
‘You’re not paying me to relax and enjoy myself.’
‘Right now, yes I fucking am.’ He shook the t-shirt and sweats in his face, growing impatient with all of Fu Yao’s technicalities. ‘Get changed, wash your face, brush your hair and fucking chill. ’
Fu Yao’s glare turned icy. He swept elegantly to his feet, snatched the clothes from Feng Xin’s grip and prodded a narrow fingertip into his chest. ‘ Fine. But you need to step up and start treating me like a boyfriend, because there’s only so much I can do when you barely look at me. At the moment, I may as well just be a part of this gaudy décor, or just another member of this group that you hardly even like.’
Feng Xin frowned. ‘I’m trying to be respectful. I already told Xie Lian-’
‘Being respectful and being awkward as hell are two different things. It doesn’t matter if you touch me or not, because you don’t look like you even want to.’
‘For your information, I like to consider my romantic partners as friends.’
‘Just friends? Do you give them all a bro-hug and smack them across the back?’
‘Yeah! Sometimes I fucking do!’
‘Then you could do at least as much for me! Treat me like someone you like rather than someone you’re forced to share a space with.’
‘Fine!’
‘Good!’
Fu Yao stomped past him and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Feng Xin seethed all the way down to the parlour, aware of the scowl on his face but unable to do much about it. He was annoyed with Fu Yao’s attitude, even more so because he was technically right. At the same time, Feng Xin was going through a bit of a crisis over how good Fu Yao looked. They were the same height, so the old band t-shirt and sweats weren’t ridiculously oversized for him; but the t-shirt slipped down almost to reveal an entire shoulder, and despite the sweats being cinched tight, they still fell down around his hips. The perfectly ruffled look was just accentuated by the cascade of loose black hair falling down his back.
Popcorn, crisps and pretzels had already been poured into bowls on the coffee table in front of the huge wide-screen TV on the wall above an ornate fireplace by the time he and Fu Yao rejoined the group. The lights were off, the screen providing the only illumination and turning the room into a mini movie theatre.
This was nothing like Movie Night at university. Back then, they’d had to fight for space on their tiny couch and squint at Xie Lian’s laptop screen.
Shi Qingxuan pranced about in her skimpy pink top-and-shorts set. ‘We’re watching Heart in Paradise! ’ she announced as soon as Feng Xin and Fu Yao entered the room.
‘Ugh,’ said He Xuan. Feng Xin agreed with the sentiment. Just by the title card on the screen, he could already tell it was the sappiest rom-com ever made.
‘No, no, listen!’ Shi Qingxuan protested. ‘There’s always at least one single person at movie nights, so we can’t watch these kinds of movies, right??’
‘For good reason,’ Fu Yao muttered under his breath.
Feng Xin suppressed a snort of laughter.
‘We’re all couples here! Let’s take advantage of it!’ she went on, oblivious.
‘I don’t mind!’ said Xie Lian, already curled up on Hua Cheng’s lap. ‘Come on, let’s sit down and try it. We can switch later if it’s bad.’
‘Or laugh at it,’ said Feng Xin. He went to sit on the unoccupied sofa.
Xie Lian stopped him. ‘Feng Xin, I said university style. We’re supposed to huddle!’
He eyed the largest sofa directly opposite the TV. It was big, but still barely big enough to seat three people comfortably. Immediately, it was obvious he was supposed to sit with Fu Yao on his lap. ‘Um,’ he said, turning to him. ‘Are you okay with that?’ he asked, pleading with him to say no with his eyes.
Fu Yao looked back at him. His expression was unreadable for a long moment. Then the corners of his mouth twitched upward, a mocking gleam in his eyes. ‘It’s fine.’
‘...Are you sure?’
‘Quite.’
‘We don’t have to-’
‘For god’s sake, sit down,’ Hua Cheng interrupted, grabbing Feng Xin by the back of his shirt and yanking him down onto the sofa beside him. ‘Gege wants to huddle, so you’re both huddling.’
It was much worse now. Feng Xin was stuck with his arms pressed against Hua Cheng and He Xuan, one of them lovingly combing his fingers through his fiance’s hair and the other watching his girlfriend prance about in the middle of the room wearing barely anything as she navigated the movie to play. Fu Yao perched himself elegantly on Feng Xin’s lap, turning to face the screen as the colours of the opening credits reflected on his pale face in the darkness.
His first instinct was to tear his gaze away. But then he remembered that he was supposed to be looking, at least a little bit. And then he couldn’t recall whether he would gawk at a real romantic partner or avert his eyes in front of company, which made the choice so much harder.
About three minutes in, Feng Xin gave in with a sigh. He wrapped his arms around Fu Yao and pulled him gently to lean sideways against his chest. If they were going to be subjected to this for ninety minutes or more, he may as well be comfortable. Fu Yao went with him, and Feng Xin even enjoyed the little gasp of surprise he earned, but his upper body was tense under his hands. After another few minutes, he started to relax. About halfway through the movie, he folded his legs up underneath him and let his head rest against Feng Xin’s shoulder.
Behind him, Shi Qingxuan started to play with his loose hair. Feng Xin couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, but he guessed some kind of braid. He was surprised Fu Yao allowed it.
With a surreptitious peak over at Xie Lian, Feng Xin realised he was watching them with a grin half-hidden in Hua Cheng’s chest.
He forced his attention back to the screen, his cheeks feeling a little too warm. Some objectively prettier-than-average lady seemed to be lamenting her very comfortable, middle-class life because her unnamed boyfriend hadn’t asked her to marry him yet. Feng Xin couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be the leading conflict of the story. He hoped not, or this was going to be the dullest movie ever.
Sure enough, his attention wandered. Bored fingers found a socked foot, drawn up under Fu Yao’s hips, with toes he could fidget with. Feng Xin played with them each in turn, wiggling them back and forth without really thinking about what he was doing until he noticed Fu Yao’s face turning a little pink in the flickering light of the screen. He had surprisingly nice feet. The sole was soft, with a few small calluses around his toes and heel. It was more interesting than the painfully predictable B-rated movie; not that there was much to find less interesting.
Feng Xin’s fingers switched from playing to massaging, fingertips pressing into the soles of his feet in slow circles. Fu Yao had relaxed somewhat since first sitting down, but he still didn’t seem comfortable.
It was absurd that he expected to keep up the act of playing “boyfriend” all the time. He was allowed to relax and enjoy himself sometimes, working or not. It made Feng Xin wonder what on earth previous clients had expected of him.
A sudden little noise close to his ear made him pause. Glancing down, he found Fu Yao resting against him, his loose hair falling across his face. His breaths were slow, deep and even. And he was snoring; tiny quiet kitten-snores.
It was adorable.
Moving slowly, Feng Xin brushed Fu Yao’s hair back behind his ear. His long eyelashes cast shadows across delicate cheekbones, still a little pink. His lips were slightly parted.
‘…Is he asleep?’ Xie Lian whispered at their side. Feng Xin nodded. ‘Shall I go and get him a blanket?’
Hua Cheng tightened his hold on him, like he was seriously considering refusing to let him go. Feng Xin made no effort to hide an eye roll and pointed to the ceiling instead, careful to not let the movement jostle Fu Yao. ‘I’ll take him to bed,’ he mouthed to Xie Lian. Slipping one hand under his knees and the other around his shoulders, he lifted him from the couch, only to discover that he was quite dense under that slender exterior.
‘Think you’ll manage?’ Hua Cheng mocked in a low voice.
‘Fuck you,’ Feng Xin whispered back. He was fine. He could manage.
‘He has such lovely hair,’ Shi Qingxuan sighed sleepily as the inky black tresses slipped from her fingers. ‘Someone remind me to ask him what products he uses in the morning, yeah?’
A small furrow appeared between Fu Yao’s eyebrows. He squirmed a little in Feng Xin’s arms. He shushed the rest of them and left the room as quickly and carefully as he could. Fu Yao took a deep, sniffling breath and one hand curled into Feng Xin’s t-shirt, holding tightly, and threatened to turn his heart into a messy pile of useless mush.
Don’t get attached, he told it firmly. He’s not yours.
Upstairs in their bedroom, after awkwardly elbowing the door open and manoeuvring Fu Yao through it without letting either his toes or his head knock against the frame, Feng Xin set him down on top of the quilt.
Fu Yao’s eyes fluttered open as he was tucking him under his own tartan blanket. Feng Xin watched his face blush from white to bright crimson, and he scrambled to prop himself up on his elbows. ‘You should’ve woken me up…’ he slurred.
‘It’s fine. The movie sucked anyway.’
Flopping back into the pillows, Fu Yao rubbed roughly at his eyes. ‘Still. God, I’m not even that tired, this is so stupid…’
‘You sure? Are you sleeping okay?’
‘Fine.’
‘It’s okay if you need to rest a bit more, you know. You don’t need to keep up with the rest of us all day if it’s too much.’
‘It’s not. It’s fine.’
‘Fu Yao-’
‘I’m fine!’ he snapped, throwing the blanket off him and lurching out of bed. ‘I’m not tired, or sleepy, or weak! I’m perfectly fine!’ He barged past Feng Xin, knocking him back a step, and disappeared into the bathroom. Feng Xin blinked at the closed door between them, confused.
He lay his blanket back down on his sofa and collapsed on top of it, one arm folded behind his head. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for Fu Yao to emerge so he could apologise for whatever he said that upset him. But an hour later, there was still no sign of him coming out of the bathroom, and Feng Xin’s eyelids were starting to grow heavy.
Maybe Fu Yao was an escort. Maybe Feng Xin was paying him to be here, to pretend to be at least mildly infatuated with him. But if he was uncomfortable, or unwell, or something else, Feng Xin would rather he rested than try to keep up an act that clearly didn’t come naturally to him. He was still a person. Besides, Feng Xin suspected that he wasn’t used to being looked after. A few things he’d said offhandedly made it sound like clients usually treated him more like a servant than a partner. The thought made Feng Xin’s stomach churn.
Not that any of that was any of his business.
Without realising that he’d fallen asleep, Feng Xin jolted awake what felt like minutes later with a cushion to his face.
‘Answer your fucking phone!’ someone groaned while he was still blinking, trying to piece his brain back together. He batted the cushion away and looked over at the bed in time to see a mass of tangled black hair fall back into the pillows. Then he realised the annoying ringing in his ears was coming from his phone, on charge on the windowsill.
Feng Xin stumbled over. It wasn’t minutes later. It was seven in the morning.
And Jian Lan was calling him.
His ribcage tightened around his lungs, constricting his breath and squeezing his heart in a painful clutch. ‘Hey,’ he answered, keeping his voice low. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Hey. Yes, everything’s fine, don’t panic. I don’t just call when something’s wrong, you know.’
‘…Right,’ he answered, still apprehensive. ‘So, what’s up?’
‘Sorry to wake you up, Feng Xin. I forget not everyone’s sleep schedule is subject to the whims of a four-year-old.’
He grimaced at her tone. He hadn’t battled her for custody of their son, knowing damn fine he wasn’t equipped to look after him on his own, and Jian Lan would have throttled him if he ever tried to take him from her, but there was still a hint of resentment there. Clearing his throat, he said, ‘No, it’s fine. Fu Yao woke me up.’
‘Who?’
‘…Uh-’
‘I don’t want to know, do I?’ She sighed, the resentment sharpening into something like a blade. ‘Listen, I know you’re busy with the wedding at the moment, but can you take Cuo Cuo today? Work called me in and my childminder let me down.’
‘On a Saturday?’
‘I apologise for the inconvenience.’
He sighed. ‘That’s not it. Yes, I can take him, but I’m not at home. Can you bring him to Paradise Manor? I’ll keep him entertained here.’
‘Why are you there?’
‘Wedding stuff.’
‘And you brought last night’s conquest back to Hua Cheng’s house? What a thoughtful guest you are.’
‘He’s not a-!’ Feng Xin bit his lip and reined in his temper. He hadn’t wanted Jian Lan or Cuo Cuo to get involved with this arrangement with Fu Yao at all until the wedding, where he could fake a breakup shortly thereafter. ‘It’s complicated. He’s not a one-night stand. I’m happy to take Cuo Cuo for the day.’
‘He’s not, huh?’ she asked, wary. ‘Well. Don’t confuse Cuo Cuo, if you can help it. Okay?’
‘I wouldn’t.’
‘Good. See you in about twenty minutes, then.’
‘Sure. See you.’
Feng Xin hung up, set his phone back down on the window sill, and then collapsed face-first back down on the sofa. On the bed, the inky hair-monster that had half-consumed Fu Yao in the night rose from the pillows. ‘Please tell me you didn’t name your son Cuo Cuo.’
‘It’s a nickname,’ Feng Xin muttered into his arm.
‘It’s terrible.’
Reaching blindly down to the ground for the cushion, Feng Xin hurled it back towards the head of the bed. He heard the soft impact, and felt it smack right back into his shoulder a second later.
‘Do you want me to make myself scarce?’
‘Huh?’ Feng Xin peeked up at him. ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll introduce you to him as a friend though, if that’s okay. Don’t want to confuse him.’
Fu Yao snorted. ‘It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings, you know. We’re not actually dating.’
‘You’re a fucking person, Fu Yao, of course I’m going to consider your feelings.’ There was no immediate response, and Feng Xin’s stomach churned again. He hauled himself up and rubbed his eyes. ‘Mind if you don’t come downstairs looking like…’ He waved vaguely towards Fu Yao. ‘You know. I’m worried you’ll scare him.’
Fu Yao sneered and pushed his wild hair back from his face. ‘I’ll make myself presentable for your son and ex-wife, don’t worry.’
Feng Xin threw on some clean clothes and left the room to let him tame his hair alone. He had only just finished informing Xie Lian of the sudden change of plans when the doorbell rang, barely ten minutes later.
He heaved the stupidly heavy front door open and stooped down to sweep Cuo Cuo onto his hip. ‘Hey, buddy!’ he said, relishing the tight hug from his son. Cuo Cuo chewed on the ear of a little stuffed dog, which had been gnawed down to a little pathetic flap of fabric, and looked around curiously at the vast entrance hall covered in wedding decorations. ‘Hey,’ Feng Xin added to Jian Lan. Six months on from the divorce, he still struggled to look her in the eye.
‘Hey,’ Jian Lan answered, far more at ease than Feng Xin. ‘You won’t be able to pick him up forever, you know.’
‘I’ll keep picking him up for as long as he lets me. Even when he’s twelve.’
She scoffed. ‘Sure. I bet that’ll go down well when he’s old enough to know how uncool you are.’
‘Don’t be jealous just because he’s too big for you to pick up now.’
‘Who’s that?’ Cuo Cuo detached himself from his toy long enough to ask.
Feng Xin followed his son’s gaze up the grand staircase, with its crimson carpeted steps and curving bannister. Fu Yao descended, all poise and elegance with his hair tied back in a silky sleek ponytail. ‘This is Baba’s friend, Fu Yao. Say hello.’
‘Hewwo.’
‘Hey, kid.’ His cool, icy expression cracked to allow a friendly smile directed at Cuo Cuo. Jian Lan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
‘Cuo Cuo!’ Xie Lian called, appearing from the kitchen.
‘Shushu!’ Cuo Cuo reached for him with both hands, leaning out of Feng Xin’s hold until he had to put him down or risk dropping him. He bolted towards Xie Lian, who dropped down to his knees to accept the tiny four-year-old hug around his neck, beaming. ‘Baba has a fwiend.’
Xie Lian patted him on the head. ‘Everyone has friends, Cuo Cuo. Come on, we have apple juice in the kitchen.’ He flashed a grimacing smile over at Feng Xin and rose to his feet. He took Cuo Cuo by the hand and led him back into the kitchen, away from the growing frostiness in the doorway.
‘Cute kid,’ Fu Yao said, hands on his hips.
‘This must be the new boy toy,’ said Jian Lan, folding her arms across her chest. ‘How old are you? Eighteen? Having a bit of a crisis, Feng Xin?’
Fu Yao’s eyebrows rose a fraction, taken aback by her hostility. ‘I’m twenty-six, actually, but I get that a lot.’ He glanced at Feng Xin. ‘…Shall I go?’
‘No. You’re fine.’ He fixed Jian Lan with a frown. ‘That was uncalled for.’
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. ‘Right. Okay. Do you want his car seat? I’d appreciate it if you dropped him off later. It’d save me another trip out here.’
‘That’s fine. I’ll be back in a second, Fu Yao.’
When he returned, Fu Yao was still hovering in the entrance hall by himself. Xie Lian’s enthusiastic chatter and Cuo Cuo’s shrieking giggles echoed from the kitchen. Feng Xin closed and latched the front door. ‘I’m sorry she was rude.’
Fu Yao shrugged. ‘I’ve dealt with worse. I had one lady’s husband catch us mid-dinner once. Don’t worry about it.’
‘…Are you actually twenty-six?’
‘What does it matter?’
‘It doesn’t. I’m just curious.’
‘Stay that way.’
Feng Xin sighed and wandered through to the kitchen. After a second’s hesitation, he heard Fu Yao trail after him. Cuo Cuo was drinking juice from a plastic cup, spilling about as much down his front as what actually ended up in his mouth.
‘You don’t have to stay here,’ said Xie Lian, dabbing at his jumper with napkins. Even they were red. Hua Cheng had a weird fixation with the colour. ‘We’ll manage without you for a day. It’s just lunch with Pei Ming, Shi Wudu and Ling Wen, after all. They’ll understand if I tell them something came up with your son.’
On second thoughts, avoiding that particular lunch sounded ideal. Feng Xin could already imagine the leering looks Pei Ming would give Fu Yao, as well as his probing and completely inappropriate questions. ‘Right. Thanks, Dianxia.’
‘The theme park’s open today,’ Fu Yao suggested. ‘You could take him there.’
‘Yeah…’ It would be better than trying to keep Cuo Cuo entertained in a house that hadn’t been childproofed and with only one stuffed toy to hand. He didn’t want to think about the look Hua Cheng would give him if his son chewed through the cables of his big fancy TV. Feng Xin preferred to take Cuo Cuo on days out rather than keep him cooped up inside, anyway. It was much more fun for both of them to go out, and had the benefit of wearing him out a little. But he could be something of a handful at the best of times; once, he’d jumped into the pond at the park to “swim with the duckies” and Feng Xin had to jump in after him amidst a tornado of feathers and startled quacks. He sighed and looked at Fu Yao. ‘Look, you don’t have to, but would you come with us?’
Fu Yao blinked at him, and then looked over his shoulder like he expected Feng Xin to be addressing someone else behind him. ‘Um. You sure you want me to?’
‘Ah, I said you don’t have to…’
‘It’s not that.’ Fu Yao looked over at Xie Lian with an expression that almost looked like he was asking for help. Xie Lian just smiled in return, one hand under Cuo Cuo’s chin as he tried to drink more apple juice. Feng Xin made a mental note to get him some next time he stayed at his apartment. ‘You…want me to come? With you and your kid?’
‘It’s just that he’s four and if I so much as blink he’ll be gone the minute we get through the gate-’
‘Okay.’
‘…Okay?’
‘Okay. Yeah, I’ll come with you.’
Xie Lian’s smile relaxed. ‘I think that’s a good idea. It’s a good chance to let Cuo Cuo get to know you without the pressure of…anything else yet. You know what I mean?’
‘Yeah,’ Feng Xin muttered. To Fu Yao he added, ‘We’re just friends today, yeah?’
Fu Yao’s eyes slid to his face with a slanted, slightly ironic grin. ‘I wasn’t gonna suggest we make out in front of him or anything.’ It was also perfectly clear in his expression and tone that they weren’t exactly acting like anything else anyway.
Perhaps it was the relief that drove him to do it, but he leant over and planted a kiss of gratitude on Fu Yao’s cheek while Cuo Cuo was looking at Xie Lian. Fu Yao clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.
An hour later, the three of them were in Feng Xin’s car heading for the theme park. Cuo Cuo sat in the back in his car seat, waving his arms and legs in some semblance of dancing to Fu Yao’s weird music. Fu Yao sat upright and proper on the passenger side, swaying a little from side to side. The pair of them made Feng Xin wonder whether he was the only one that couldn’t hear a beat to dance to.
‘Have you been before?’ Feng Xin asked, because not talking was awkward and stifling, even with the music playing.
‘To a theme park? Yes?’ Fu Yao answered, side-eyeing him like he was an idiot.
‘I didn’t think it would be a prime date spot for anyone over the age of, like, fifteen.’
Fu Yao rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not discussing that in front of your son.’
‘He won’t understand. He’s four.’
‘Maybe he won’t understand it, but he’ll hear and repeat some of it. The most incriminating parts. Sure you want him repeating anything I say on that topic to his mother?’
Feng Xin cleared his throat, horrified by Fu Yao’s implication. Worse than Jian Lan thinking he was dating someone barely out of high school was Jian Lan knowing he’d hired someone to date him.
Cuo Cuo chose that moment to pipe up. ‘I want to ride the train!’
‘Yeah, buddy, we’ll ride the train when we get there.’
The rest of the journey was uneventful. Feng Xin didn’t ask any more questions about Fu Yao’s past dates. They didn’t really talk at all except to answer Cuo Cuo’s toddler-chatter. Exactly as predicted, he made a break for it while Feng Xin was reaching for his wallet to buy their tickets. Fu Yao grabbed his hand before he made it more than a step, gently pulling him back in line.
‘What?’ he asked in response to Feng Xin’s wide-eyed look. ‘You said it would happen.’
‘...Thank you,’ he managed to say with his tongue still caught between expressing heart-stopping panic and overwhelming relief.
Fu Yao shrugged. Cuo Cuo pulled on his hand, complaining and whining in a way that foreshadowed a complete ear-splitting temper tantrum, but Fu Yao didn’t let go.
‘Cuo Cuo,’ Feng Xin warned, his voice dropping an octave. ‘Enough. If you don’t behave, we won’t be riding any trains.’
Cuo Cuo stuck out his bottom lip and kicked the paved ground with all the force his little leg could muster. But he quietened down and stood somewhat still while Feng Xin finished paying.
‘…I’m surprised that worked,’ Fu Yao commented out of the corner of his mouth.
‘Jian Lan’s good at following through with consequences,’ Feng Xin muttered back.
Fu Yao glanced at him. ‘You, not so much?’
‘Shh. He’ll realise if you say it out loud.’
That startled a chuckle out of Fu Yao, his mouth curling in a smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. Seeing him laugh, a genuine laugh that wasn’t a snort or a scoff, evoked an unexpected joy. But then he covered it up with a cough and turned his face away to hide his expression. Feng Xin couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.
‘Alright, let’s go,’ he sighed, both weary and wary at the mere thought of the amount of energy and focus this day out would require.
‘Train! Train! Train!’ Cuo Cuo chanted, hopping up and down on the spot.
‘Aiyah, alright, alright…’ As soon as Feng Xin took hold of his hand, Fu Yao dropped the other and folded his arms. ‘I hope you like standing around watching kids’ rides.’
Fu Yao smirked back at him, and there was the tiniest hint of that genuine smile in his eyes. ‘Buy me some candy floss and I’ll be happy enough.’
As soon as the first little roller coaster came into view, Cuo Cuo pulled so hard on Feng Xin’s hand that he was running on the spot at such an angle that he’d fall flat on his face if he let go. True to his word, Fu Yao was quite content to trail after them while munching on fluffy pink candy floss. He snatched it out of Feng Xin’s reach every time he went to grab a handful for himself, but pretended not to notice every time Cuo Cuo did the same.
After riding three different kids’ roller coasters with Feng Xin, Cuo Cuo climbed onto a carousel on his own, choosing a wooden horse with a goofy face. He waved every time he passed Feng Xin and Fu Yao, smiling so widely that they could see all of his baby teeth.
‘He’s doing well, considering his parents just broke up,’ Fu Yao commented.
Feng Xin glanced at him, frowning. He was still watching Cuo Cuo on the carousel and didn’t seem to notice. His tone indicated judgement, but his expression wasn’t judgmental at all. ‘…Yeah. I guess he is.’
‘What happened?’
‘Nothing, really,’ Feng Xin muttered. ‘There was no big thing that caused it. She just fell out of love with me. If she was ever in love with me in the first place.’
He felt Fu Yao’s eyes on him, so sharp they almost hurt.
‘We married at twenty, within a year of getting together. Everyone told us it was too soon.’
‘They were right.’
‘You don’t say?’ Feng Xin drawled back.
‘You don’t think she ever loved you?’
He considered the question, eyes fixed on his son. There was no reason to tell Fu Yao any of this, to bare his heart to someone he was having to pay to tolerate his company; but it was like scratching an itch after months of struggling to ignore it, a relief too satisfying to turn a blind eye to. Feng Xin had spoken to Xie Lian about it, of course. Xie Lian had been the one he went to the very night Jian Lan told him their relationship was over, inconsolable but not surprised. But there was only so much he could burden one person.
‘I don’t know,’ he answered eventually. ‘She told me she didn’t regret any of it, because I gave her Cuo Cuo. But way before the end, before she told me she didn’t want to be married to me anymore, she kept looking at me like she couldn’t understand why I was there. Like I was just some interloper in her house.’
Fu Yao didn’t answer. The overly-cheerful tune of the carousel faded and the perpetually-galloping horses came to a stop. Feng Xin went to go and help Cuo Cuo down from his wooden steed.
‘Did you see me? Did you see??’ Cuo Cuo demanded, scampering back over to Fu Yao.
‘I did see you,’ said Fu Yao, nodding sagely. ‘Very impressive up there on that unruly mount.’ Cuo Cuo giggled. Fu Yao flicked his gaze up to Feng Xin, his expression unchanging. ‘You should accept what she told you.’
Feng Xin averted his eyes. ‘Where next, buddy?’
‘I’m hungry!’
‘Lunch it is, then.’
Despite saying so, Cuo Cuo wanted nothing to do with food as soon as he spotted the playground outside one of the theme park’s overpriced fast food restaurants. It was a simple set of swings attached to a small climbing frame and a tower with a slide, drab and dull compared to everything else the theme park had to offer, but Cuo Cuo begged and pleaded to go and play like it promised to be the epitome of fun.
‘If you finish every single bite of your lunch, you can go and play.’
Without another word, Cuo Cuo wolfed down his kids’ meal like it might run away from him, even the carrot and cucumber sticks that made Fu Yao raise an impressed eyebrow. Then he bolted for the playground without waiting for his father’s permission.
‘Hey-! Cuo Cuo, don’t go through the gate, okay?! Stay inside the fence!’
At least their picnic table had a good view of the playground, other people’s children crawling all over the climbing frame like ants. Feng Xin’s child joined them, immediately bolting up the tower for the slide.
‘He knows you’re a soft touch, huh?’ Fu Yao asked, pulling the bun of his burger apart.
‘He knows where the boundaries are,’ Feng Xin insisted.
Fu Yao nodded like he didn’t believe him at all. ‘Think he’ll stay where you told him to?’
‘I have no idea. I don’t plan to take my eyes off him long enough to let him do anything else.’ Feng Xin tapped his fingers on the splintering tabletop, his eyes glued to his son’s bright yellow jumper: up the steps, then down the slide—up the steps, then down the slide, over and over and over again. ‘Bet this must rank in your top ten most interesting dates,’ he added with a hollow laugh.
‘Hah.’ Fu Yao took a sip from his paper coffee cup. ‘It’s fine. I’m not usually paid to just hang out.’
‘What are you usually paid to do?’
Even without looking, he knew Fu Yao was giving him a sharp look. ‘Want me to spell it out? In front of all these young, innocent minds?’
‘Not that.’ Feng Xin flashed a scowl at him before returning his watchful eyes to Cuo Cuo. ‘I meant the rest of it. The dinners, the movies, the parties. You must have been on some pretty cool dates.’
‘I guess.’
‘Come on.’ Feng Xin tipped his head to one side, imploring him with a pout that mimicked his son’s. ‘I just bared my heart to you about my ex-wife. You can tell me a bit about what else you’ve done as an- doing this job.’
Fu Yao rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. ‘It’s really not as interesting as you think. Most of the time it’s people trying to make their ex-partners jealous, or impressing their parents at big events, like weddings, or birthdays, or anniversaries, or funerals.’
‘Funerals?!’
‘Mn. Those all blur together eventually, because it’s just the same job with a different boss. I had one rich old white guy ask me to wear a dress and hang off his arm at this big elite charity party thing—I don’t even remember what it was for now. I wasn’t allowed to look or smile at anyone else. He never told me exactly what he wanted me there for. Maybe nothing in particular.’ Fu Yao spotted Feng Xin’s darkening gaze and smirked at him. ‘It was fine. I don’t really like talking or smiling at strangers anyway. At least I didn’t have to put on airs for that one.’
‘Any theme parks?’
‘One. This lady had organised a birthday outing for her teenage daughters, twins, but they wanted their dad and stepmother there too.’
Feng Xin winced. ‘Bet that wasn’t awkward at all.’
‘A bit. She was almost twice my age at the time, but nice enough. Nothing sexual about that one either, which was a bonus.’
‘Do most of them end up that way?’
‘Would you believe me if I said no?’ Fu Yao grinned, showing very white teeth. ‘Most of the time it’s…suggestive. It’s to give the impression to everyone else that something’s going on, but usually they don’t want to pay to actually do it. Who’d be there to see it anyway, you know? Well.’ He paused, considering. ‘Usually they aren’t situations where someone watching would be appropriate.’
Feng Xin blinked wide eyes at him. ‘Have you ever…been in a situation where it would be?’
‘I’m not answering that question.’
‘No. You’re right, sorry. Okay, fine.’ He cleared his throat, his cheeks feeling hot and hoped Fu Yao didn’t notice. ‘Have you ever turned someone down?’
‘I turn a lot of potential clients down if they want me to do something degrading or humiliating, or if they want to act out some huge spectacle of a break up – yes, that’s happened – but the agency just assigns someone else to them. There was one I accepted, went to meet her, and she demanded I cut my hair short. I told her to keep her money.’
Feng Xin snorted. ‘I can’t believe she even asked.’
‘Some people go into this thinking they own us for however long they pay for.’
‘That’s gross.’ He leant over to his left to follow his son running around behind the climbing frame. ‘Okay, then, tell me your favourite date.’
‘I don’t have a favourite,’ Fu Yao retorted, cold and clipped. Feng Xin caught his eye, eyebrows raised in a silent question. ‘I don’t let myself enjoy any job too much.’
‘Why not?’
Fu Yao chewed on a fry, eyes on the plastic tray between them. Feng Xin wished he could move his eyes independently to keep one on his son and one on his companion. Eventually, Fu Yao answered. ‘It’s complicated. People treat you like you’re special to them for the sake of someone else. Some of them aren’t very convincing, but others are. It’s why I don’t use my real name. Easier to remember it’s not me they’re attached to that way.’
Feng Xin had so many questions. Was this why he remained so cold and impersonal when they were alone? Had Fu Yao gotten attached to a client in the past and then been abandoned? What had led him to this job in the first place?
What is your real name?
He knew better than to ask any of them, though, even as the last one rested burning hot on his tongue. Feng Xin wanted to know him so badly. If the stars had aligned in just a slightly different way, they could have met organically. They could have been friends.
With a jolt, he realised that he had only one more week of Fu Yao’s company—that when Xie Lian’s wedding was over, he would have to say goodbye forever.
This was a business deal. They were just strangers putting on a show.
This was nothing.
Fu Yao’s napkin smacked into his temple and fell into his lap. ‘Stop making that face,’ he said while Feng Xin stared down at the crumpled ball. ‘It’s gross.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Baba!’ Cuo Cuo shrieked, sprinting back over to their table. Feng Xin fixed his expression into a smile and reached down to catch him before he barrelled straight into the bench. ‘Can we ride the train again? Pleeease??’
Feng Xin exaggerated a sigh and Cuo Cuo started hopping up and down on his toes, chanting ‘please, please, please!’
‘Alright,’ he huffed, smiling to make sure Cuo Cuo knew he was teasing. ‘Maybe Fu Yao will ride with you on some of them this time.’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Coward.’
Fu Yao snorted. ‘Sure. That’s the reason. Go ride the “train” with Cuo Cuo, I’ll clean all this up.’
Cuo Cuo dragged Feng Xin onto all seven of the kids’ roller coasters a second, and then a third time. Despite spending another two hours mostly standing around on his own waiting for them, Fu Yao didn’t complain once, even when he ran out of candy floss. Instead, he delighted in telling Feng Xin how ridiculous his tall, bulky frame looked, folded into every single ride that was really too small for him.
When Cuo Cuo started to grow tired, they left the kids’ zone to wander around the rest of the park. He enjoyed watching the trains of the bigger coasters roar along their tracks, looping and twisting while people onboard screamed at the thrill.
‘I wanna ride that one!’ he demanded, pointing to one of the older rides in the park. The ivory tracks twisted around a central sculpture that was supposed to be some kind of hideous alien emerging from the ground.
Feng Xin grimaced and turned Cuo Cuo away from it. ‘When you’re a bit older, buddy. That one’s for grownups.’
Twice, Fu Yao vanished from their side. He reappeared as soon as Feng Xin noticed and turned to look for him, and insisted that everything was fine. When it happened for a third time, Feng Xin was keeping a closer eye on him with his son’s hand clasped safely in his own; Fu Yao’s long legs kept up easily, especially with Cuo Cuo’s much shorter pace—until they reached a section of path that had a section of roller coaster track overhead.
Feng Xin paused under the track to glance back at Fu Yao, who’d come to a complete halt several feet back.
‘…You coming?’
‘Yeah.’
But he still didn’t move. He glared daggers at the track overhead, arms folded so tightly over his chest that his shoulders hunched. Feng Xin’s eyes darted from Fu Yao to the track overhead. Cuo Cuo started tugging impatiently on his hand. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine!’ he snapped, his brow furrowing.
‘Are you waiting for the ride to go by first?’
‘So what if I am?’
Feng Xin tried his best to not laugh. But it was too endearing. A snuffling snort escaped him before he could pull himself together. Fu Yao’s sharp glare snapped down to him, and for a second he looked as though he might turn around and march off in the opposite direction. But he didn’t.
‘Come on, that’s a four-minute ride. You’ll be waiting there forever.’
‘They send more than one train round at once, you know.’
Feng Xin sighed. He glanced down at Cuo Cuo, who was growing more and more impatient. His lower lip pushed out so far it curled downward. ‘Baba’s friend is scared of the train tracks.’
‘I’m not-!’
‘Shall we help him walk under them?’
Cuo Cuo’s pout vanished in an instant and he darted back to Fu Yao’s side. He reached up and pulled one of his arms down from his chest, taking hold of his hand. Feng Xin joined them and took hold of Fu Yao’s other hand, ignoring his threatening glare. His cheeks were such a cute shade of pink that his face lost any ferocity it might have held. Feng Xin just grinned back at him and started to make small, slow steps backwards. Cuo Cuo bounded forwards to help pull Fu Yao along. He looked like he wanted to dig in his heels and refuse. But then he took a tiny step forward.
‘This is stupid,’ he whispered through gritted teeth as his eyes darted up to the track above looming closer.
‘It’s fine. Come on, nothing will happen.’
‘If the train comes now and falls off the track and kills us all, I’m haunting your ghost,’ he snapped in accentless English.
Feng Xin’s brain short-circuited for a second before he caught up. ‘Don’t do that. I can’t switch languages that fast- Wait, was that for Cuo Cuo’s benefit?’
‘Want me to frighten your four-year-old instead?’
He laughed. ‘Cuo Cuo can speak English too, but I appreciate the thought.’ Clearing his throat, Feng Xin looked down at his son and asked, ‘Hey, buddy, what does that yellow sign over there say?’
‘Exit!’
Feng Xin turned back to Fu Yao, his chest puffed up a little with pride. Fu Yao raised one eyebrow. ‘He’s reading already?’
‘All Jian Lan’s doing, I assure you,’ he admitted, deflating.
They were right under the track when it began to rumble and rattle. Fu Yao froze, eyes snapping open wide and darting straight up as the train came hurtling around a bend, riders cheering and screaming in joy and fear equally. He seemed to stop breathing, his entire body starting to shake. Without thinking, Feng Xin pulled him into a protective embrace and did his best to tuck him under his chin, which turned out to be quite difficult with someone the same height as him.
The train roared above them—and then it was gone, taking the deafening noise with it. Feng Xin didn’t let go, acutely aware of a heartbeat that wasn’t his own rabbiting against his chest.
‘See? It didn’t fall.’ He felt the vibration of mumbled words against his neck a second later. ‘What was that?’
‘...Stupid,’ Fu Yao repeated, his voice wavering. ‘Gym rat thinks he’s strong enough to stop a fucking roller coaster.’
Feng Xin huffed. ‘You’re welcome.’
When he pulled back, he spotted how red Fu Yao’s face was first, and noticed Cuo Cuo clinging to Fu Yao’s thigh in his attempt at a protective hug of his own second. His heart melted into a puddle at the sight the pair of them made.
Still blushing furiously, Fu Yao patted Cuo Cuo on the top of his head. ‘Thanks, kid. I’m all fine now.’
Cuo Cuo pulled back, beamed up at him with stubby baby teeth, and then bolted.
Feng Xin caught him by the hand before he got very far, and Cuo Cuo giggled. He was sure his son only ran away half the time because he found it funny to watch Feng Xin scramble to stop him.
There was nothing suitable for a four-year-old to ride outside of the kids’ zone. They meandered idly through each section of the park, stopping to watch each of the trains loop and twist around their tracks and pausing to wait every time the path took them beneath a ride. Every time, Feng Xin offered to cuddle Fu Yao while they waited. The resulting scowl as his face turned pink was just too amusing.
When Cuo Cuo started to whine about being tired, Feng Xin picked him up and carried him around the rest of the park while he crunched on a neon blue lollipop as big as his own face.
‘He’ll still expect you to do that when he’s twenty if you keep doing it,’ Fu Yao commented.
Feng Xin frowned at him. ‘You sound like Jian Lan. I don’t care, I’ll pick him up when he’s twenty if he wants me to.’
Fu Yao rolled his eyes. ‘Right. And you’ll be, what? Fifty?’
‘I’ll be forty-two, thank you.’ He ignored the answering snort and glanced up as they passed the biggest ride in the park. ‘Cuo Cuo, let’s practise your numbers. Can you count the loops? One, two, three…’
It was dark by the time they drew up to Jian Lan’s home. Feng Xin’s old home. It was a simple detached house in the suburbs, complete with a neat front lawn and flower beds in bloom. Feng Xin had planted those dahlias. At least she was still looking after them.
Cuo Cuo was deeply asleep in his car seat in the back. Fu Yao rested his head on the passenger window, his pale face illuminated ghostly white by his phone screen. Feng Xin turned off the ignition, but made no move to get out of the car. He leant on the steering wheel, watching his son through the rearview mirror.
‘I shouldn’t wake him up, right?’ he whispered.
Fu Yao glanced up from his phone and looked back at the sleeping child. He didn’t look far off from dozing off either. ‘He should go to bed. He’ll be more comfortable.’
‘...Right,’ Feng Xin agreed.
He didn’t move.
Fu Yao raised his eyebrows at him.
‘...I don’t want to go without saying goodbye,’ he admitted to the dark, quiet interior of the car. To his sleeping son and a man he hadn’t known a week ago.
The ghostly light of Fu Yao’s phone faded as he turned the screen off. ‘He’ll probably wake up when you pick him up, or when you set him down in bed.’
‘I could wait until he wakes up? Make sure I don’t disturb him?’
‘Feng Xin.’ He dragged his eyes away from Cuo Cuo to glance at Fu Yao, who nodded out of the window. Feng Xin followed his gaze. Jian Lan was waiting on the porch, arms crossed and face tense.
Feng Xin sighed and climbed out of the car.
Cuo Cuo whined and complained a bit as he pulled him gently out of his seat. ‘I know, buddy. I’m sorry. It’s way past bedtime, huh?’ He promptly fell straight back to sleep as soon as he was resting against his father’s shoulder.
He didn’t wake up again, even as Feng Xin set him down in his little bed. Feng Xin whispered goodnight to him anyway.
‘Any problems?’ Jian Lan demanded in a low voice as soon as he pulled Cuo Cuo’s bedroom door closed.
‘No,’ Feng Xin responded gruffly, heading downstairs. ‘He was fine.’
‘You didn’t give him too much sugar, did you?’
‘No.’
‘You didn’t leave him alone with your boyfriend, did you? I’m sure he’s fine and all, but I don’t want you leaving my son with people he doesn’t know, even for a minute-’
Feng Xin flashed a tired frown in her direction. ‘Fu Yao was more respectful of that than even me. And he was great with Cuo Cuo.’
‘You didn’t tell him about…? You know?’
‘I didn’t tell him we’re dating, no.’
‘Okay. Okay, good.’ She paused at the front door, setting a hand on his arm. ‘Thanks for today. I know you were busy, and I do appreciate it.’
Feng Xin swallowed, averting his eyes from her earnest gaze. ‘It’s fine. Anytime.’
Every step away from the house and back to the car was like trying to pull his feet out of a swamp of molasses. He stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie and kept his head bowed, glaring at the paved path like he could blame it for having to say goodbye to his son.
Fu Yao was waiting for him when he got back to the car, leaning against the driver’s side door. He didn’t wear an expression of pity or sympathy. He didn’t offer to hug or comfort him either, but his eyes were a little less frosty than usual. Rather than any placating words, he simply said, ‘I’ll drive us back.’
Feng Xin handed over his keys without a word.
He slouched deep into the passenger seat and stared out into the blackness beyond the window. The white street lamps blurred into foggy blips of light as they drove by.
‘You’ll see him again soon, right?’
He dragged his eyes over to Fu Yao. ‘In two or three weeks. Yeah.’
‘You don’t have dual custody?’
The rough, humourless laugh that punched his way out of his throat hurt. ‘Nah. Not because I didn’t want to, obviously. You know that, right?’ Fu Yao glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, shrugging. ‘It would’ve destroyed Jian Lan if she thought I was fighting her for custody. That’s all.’
‘…You don’t look so hot yourself right now.’
‘That’s different. It’s just hard saying goodbye.’
He caught Fu Yao glancing at him again. ‘Do you have some kind of arrangement, at least?’
‘I have him every second weekend.’
‘Why not every weekend? His mother has him all week.’
‘She works full-time too, so she wants some weekends with him. It’s fair enough, I guess. Better stability for him this way too.’ Feng Xin chuckled, even though nothing about this conversation was particularly funny. If he didn’t laugh, he’d burst into tears—and he didn’t want to subject Fu Yao to that. ‘We need two of him. One for each of us.’
Fu Yao didn’t answer.
The rest of the journey back to Paradise Manor was silent. It wasn’t until they were pulling up beside the mansion that Feng Xin realised Fu Yao was humming under his breath, a quiet little melody that stopped as soon as he turned the engine off. Immediately, he missed it.
Feng Xin eyed the ornate front door with a heavy sigh. Fu Yao didn’t move, sitting with both hands still on the steering wheel.
‘Hey, weird request,’ said Feng Xin, aiming for levity and probably landing somewhere in the vicinity of desperation. ‘Do you mind if we sneak in around the back?’
Fu Yao turned to look at him, black eyes glinting in the darkness. ‘Does that line usually work?’
A bark of laughter escaped Feng Xin, followed by the most unseemly snort his nose had ever made. He clapped a hand over his mouth, mortified. But Fu Yao’s shocked expression made him giggle. And keep giggling. He would blame the long, emotional day for laughing at such a childish comment, except for the fact that it took far less to make him laugh on a good day.
Feng Xin calmed down after a full two minutes of near-hysterical giggling. He huffed another sigh and let himself slouch down even further in his seat. ‘I’m being serious. I don’t want Xie Lian to see me like this.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he’ll know immediately what’s wrong. And then he’ll worry. And he’ll spend his entire evening trying to cheer me up rather than enjoying it with his fiancé and his friends.’
‘He won’t thank you for keeping these things from him, you know.’
Fu Yao kept his voice cool and composed, but his words were loaded with more than they implied. Feng Xin chewed on his thumbnail. There was a lot he wasn’t telling Xie Lian right now. Some of it he never intended to share either. ‘...I’ll open up to him about Cuo Cuo next time,’ he said, feeling like he had to explain himself. ‘I just don’t want to burden him right now.’
When he received no answer, Feng Xin let his head loll to one side to stare at Fu Yao’s silhouette in the faint light from the manor coming through the window. Even as little more than an outline, he was elegant and graceful. Feng Xin liked the shape of his nose. He couldn’t even explain why; there was nothing particularly notable about it. It was just a nose, with a smooth, elegant slope and a narrow tip.
‘Do you know you’re beautiful?’
In the broad light of day, he doubted he would have caught the tiny little jolt of surprise. Fu Yao covered it up quickly, showing his teeth in a twisted, ironic grin. ‘I wouldn’t be doing this job if I didn’t. Now get out while I’m feeling charitable enough to remind you just want me to help you stop feeling sad.’
Feng Xin frowned. ‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘No?’
‘No. I meant…’ But he didn’t know how to explain what he meant. He didn’t know which words would suffice. ‘Never mind. Let’s go.’
He threw open the door and climbed out. A moment later, he heard Fu Yao follow.
As Feng Xin skirted around the side of the manor house, he half-expected Fu Yao to scoff and roll his eyes and insist he was being ridiculous. Or to waltz straight through the front door to inform Xie Lian what nonsense he was getting up to. But he didn’t. Fu Yao followed a few paces behind him, his footsteps soft on the gravel.
At the back of the house, which led straight into a vast rose garden filled with fluttering butterflies even at this late hour, Feng Xin found a sturdy wooden trellis leading all the way up to the upper floor balcony. Between the trellis and the drainpipe, he started to climb.
‘...Are you serious?’ Fu Yao muttered.
‘What?’ Feng Xin shot back without looking down. ‘Never sneaked out and had to sneak back in when you were a kid?’
He heard something like the click of a tongue, but Fu Yao was still there when he risked a glance down, the very edge of his silhouette illuminated by the huge bay window looking into the parlour. Feng Xin hoped no one was looking out of it.
On the balcony, he hopped over the low stone wall and turned to guide Fu Yao up. But he scampered up the trellis after him with the ease of a cat, keeping clear of the green vines clinging to it. He vaulted the low wall with a bit of a glint in his eye, the promise of a grin at one corner of his mouth.
Feng Xin’s chest twinged. It wasn’t quite pain, but something similar. ‘Thank you for everything you did today,’ he whispered.
‘What did I do?’ Fu Yao answered with a soft snort, turning to open the wide window leading into their guest room. ‘Attended the theme park with the ticket you paid for and ate the food you bought for me?’
They climbed through the wide window at the same time, keeping their voices low.
‘For helping me watch Cuo Cuo. For walking around with us all day without even getting to ride any of the coasters.’
Fu Yao shrugged. A slight furrow appeared between his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth threatened to turn down. ‘It’s fine. You’re literally paying me.’
‘It’s still not exactly in your job description, is it?’
‘My job description is pretty much whatever you want it to be, Feng Xin.’
Feng Xin clenched his jaw, hands balling into fists. ‘Can you take my fucking gratitude?’
‘Can you get it through your thick skull that I’m not here doing any of this out of the kindness of my heart?’
‘Why have you suddenly decided to be an asshole?’ Feng Xin demanded. ‘You drove me home, listened to me talk about my son, and then turned me down when you thought I was asking for a pity fuck, even though that would’ve been another- I don’t know, thousand, maybe, for you. Which part of that wasn’t kind? ’
‘Three, actually,’ Fu Yao corrected, lifting his chin with a haughty sniff.
Feng Xin baulked. ‘Sleeping with you costs an extra three thousand?’
His mouth curved into a wry smirk, even as his eyes remained dark. He dropped down elegantly onto the edge of the bed and crossed one leg over the other. ‘I’m expensive.’
‘Whatever.’ Feng Xin shook his head. ‘I wasn’t even asking for that. I told you that wasn’t what this was about.’
‘I’ve heard that before.’
‘Fucking hell,’ he muttered, letting his arms fall limply to his sides in defeat. ‘I’m going to shower. Fucking thank you, for what it’s worth to you.’
‘Whatever,’ Fu Yao parroted back at him just before the bathroom door closed between them.
Feng Xin woke up the next morning still annoyed. He glared at the ceiling, his neck stiff and back sore. He was not built for sleeping on a sofa, even one as expensive as this.
The bed had already been made. Fu Yao wasn’t in it.
He rubbed his eyes and sighed. He couldn’t let himself go downstairs in such a foul mood; Xie Lian would notice immediately and want to know why. Telling him the truth was out of the question, and Feng Xin was a terrible liar; he’d only gotten so far with Fu Yao because it was, for the most part, a passive sort of lie.
There was only one recourse.
Downstairs, he found Fu Yao looking immaculate at the island of the manor’s vast kitchen, a mug of what looked like thick, gloopy tar in front of him while Xie Lian bustled around making conversation. It was probably supposed to be tea. Or hot chocolate. Feng Xin couldn’t tell.
‘Did you guys sneak straight off to bed last night?’ Xie Lian was asking as Feng Xin trudged in. ‘We didn’t even hear you come back! We got quite worried, you know. It would have been okay for Cuo Cuo to stay here if that was a problem…’
Fu Yao’s dark eyes found him in the doorway, holding a glimmer of suspicion, but he made no outward sign that anything was wrong.
Feng Xin walked right up to him, wrapped an arm tight around his shoulders and drew him in to plant a firm, wet kiss right on his cheek.
‘It’s fine if you guys wanted to head straight to bed last night, you didn’t have to sneak in- I’ll go and see if He Xuan wants some tea!’ Xie Lian’s voice grew suddenly louder and a little shrill as he fled the kitchen, very purposely not looking at them.
‘…Weird,’ Feng Xin commented, watching him leave.
‘You told him I don’t like PDA. He’s making sure it wasn’t public,’ Fu Yao pointed out. Strong, slender fingers snapped up and wrapped around Feng Xin’s loose collar, yanking him back down level with a dangerous smile. ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’
Feng Xin mirrored the expression, lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘Just getting my money’s worth. Sweetheart.’
Fu Yao’s eyes flashed. Feng Xin relished in the faint, pretty pink hue that dusted the apples of his cheeks.
He caught a flash of red at the doorway out of the corner of his eye. Hua Cheng hovered there, obviously watching them like he had nothing better to do. Feng Xin surged forwards on instinct, pressing his mouth to Fu Yao’s frowning lips. They parted slightly under him in a surprised gasp, fingers tightening in his collar. Battling the urge to thrust in and tame that sharp tongue with his own turned out to be one of the toughest fights of Feng Xin’s life.
Fu Yao blinked at him when he pulled back, his lips cherry red, shiny and entirely too kissable.
Feng Xin risked a glance at the door. Hua Cheng narrowed his mismatched eyes and sauntered away, arms folded. ‘...Sorry,’ Feng Xin whispered to Fu Yao. ‘I saw someone watching.’
‘Hmph.’
The pink flush of his cheeks slowly spreading across his face, Fu Yao spun in his seat in such a way that flicked Feng Xin across the face with his ponytail and went to throw his tar drink down the drain while Xie Lian was still absent.
Throughout the day, Feng Xin could think of no better way to convincingly hide his annoyance than to touch Fu Yao in front of the others. Every little brush against his hands, shoulders and the back of his neck was intentionally gentle and affectionate, even as their eyes turned caustic every time they met. Xie Lian couldn’t possibly suspect they were irritated with each other.
Over Shi Qingxuan’s pancake breakfast, during lunch at the fancy patisserie in town, and at every opportunity through the afternoon filled with crafting place cards with varying degrees of success, Feng Xin found reasons to subtly brush his fingers against some part of Fu Yao.
It turned into a sort of private, unspoken game. Feng Xin risked “private” touches in front of the others while Fu Yao tried to dodge him without drawing attention. His silky hair was the easiest, but also the least satisfying, since he could just pretend to not notice. His cheek was the most fun—even though his neutral expression refused to change, his entire face turned cherry-blossom pink every time.
Feng Xin got so invested in this little game that he didn’t realise his irritation had long faded by the time the six of them were discussing what to have for dinner that evening. That is, until overconfidence got the better of him and he pressed a feather-light kiss to the nape of Fu Yao’s neck as he passed behind him in the kitchen.
He blamed the little shiver against his lips for not noticing the obvious threat in the smile it earned him.
Fu Yao turned towards him, the corners of his lips curled up, and maintained intense eye contact as he grabbed his right buttock. Feng Xin jumped, surprised by the sudden brazen reciprocation, before narrow fingertips gripped hard.
It wasn’t any kind of tender or teasing squeeze. It fucking hurt.
Feng Xin hissed and batted him away, lurching out of reach.
Fu Yao’s grin hardened as he strode away towards the dining room.
Xie Lian frowned, his head tilted to one side as he looked between the pair of them with obvious confusion. Feng Xin tried to smile like nothing was wrong and wandered after Fu Yao, praying he wasn’t limping.
They spent the evening crafting more wedding paraphernalia. Feng Xin sat awkwardly on his knees to keep the pressure off his poor, bruised rear, and did his best to parry Shi Qingxuan’s pointed, smirking questions about it. He left Fu Yao alone, but he didn’t look any happier for it.
Late into the night, they retired to their room in complete silence.
They took turns in the bathroom. Feng Xin settled onto the sofa with his feet hanging off the end. Fu Yao bundled himself into the very centre of the king sized bed and turned off the light without asking first.
In the dark, Feng Xin stared up at the ceiling. Minutes ticked by, almost audible in the heavy silence despite the lack of a clock in the room.
Eventually, too awake to settle down without saying anything, he turned his head in the direction of the bed and murmured, ‘Hey.’
Fu Yao offered him a wordless, irritable grunt in response.
‘I’m sorry if I crossed the line with you today.’
There was no answer for so long that Feng Xin thought he would just ignore him. Then the bedsheets rustled and he heard a soft sigh. ‘I told you at the beginning. It’s fine.’
‘Sure, but…’
But none of what he’d done today had been for the sake of convincing the others of their relationship. Not really. It had started out as a means to hide his irritation, but that had lasted all of about half an hour; then it had purely been about getting a rise out of Fu Yao, about making him snap and yell at him, to lose just a modicum of that cool professionalism in front of everyone else.
‘...But I didn’t ask first,’ he finished lamely.
Fu Yao made a muffled noise that was probably a snort. ‘Neither did I. How’s your ass?’
Feng Xin couldn’t help but grin ruefully, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Said ass gave a dull throb to remind him of the five bruises undoubtedly blooming in his left cheek. ‘Sore. Shi Qingxuan probably came up with all sorts of wild theories about it already.’
‘Hm?’
‘You didn’t see the way she was staring at me earlier? She kept asking why I wasn’t sitting down properly.’
Fu Yao snorted again. ‘Good. Let your friends think you get fucked regularly.’
His words startled a loud laugh out of Feng Xin. Then he heard more rustling and imagined Fu Yao sitting up to stare at him, which made him laugh again.
‘God, you could guide a ship into dock with that foghorn laugh.’
Feng Xin howled. He spotted Fu Yao’s silhouette sitting up in the centre of the bed, his edges blurry through his watering eyes. His expression was lost in the darkness but he could imagine the mix of shock and disgust well enough. ‘Do you get off on being belittled or something?’
‘This is not how I sound when I get off,’ Feng Xin shot back, still chuckling. His abdominal muscles ached in the way only intense laughter could bring.
‘For the sake of all your partners, past and present, I’m glad.’
A soft knock at their door interrupted Feng Xin’s retort. ‘Feng Xin? Fu Yao?’ Xie Lian called softly from the other side.
Feng Xin lunged for the bed, scrambling under the quilt as Fu Yao shuffled over to one side to make room. They sat up awkwardly, staring at each other with no idea how to settle into something resembling natural rest, as the door opened. Xie Lian poked his head into the room and flicked on the light. ‘Are you guys okay?’
‘Hi,’ said Feng Xin, blinking as he tried to smile like his heart wasn’t trying to beat out of his chest. ‘Yes. Fine. Are you?’
Fu Yao rolled his eyes. Feng Xin kicked him under the quilt.
‘Yes, we’re all okay,’ said Xie Lian. He took a step into the room and closed the door. He was in a set of pretty silk pyjamas, fluffy slippers on his feet. ‘I heard noise and I wasn’t sure if you were shouting or laughing…’ He trailed off. Feng Xin followed his gaze to the cushion and blanket he’d left behind on the sofa in his panic to reach the bed. His heart dropped.
No one spoke.
‘...You guys are okay, right?’ Xie Lian asked again, big brown eyes gazing worriedly between them. ‘If you had a fight or something, you really don’t need to hide it on our account…’
‘We haven’t!’ Feng Xin assured him quickly. He wrapped an arm around Fu Yao and pulled him in close so fast that he fell into his chest, one hand braced against his belly. ‘Sorry for being loud. We weren’t fighting.’
‘Mn,’ Fu Yao hummed, his brow twitching like he was doing his best not to scowl. ‘It’s just his foghorn laugh that sounds like yelling.’
Xie Lian’s expression relaxed a little. ‘Ah, that’s good to know…’ He blinked suddenly, eyes widening as his cheeks turned pink. ‘I didn’t interrupt anything, did I? I’m sorry! It’s late, I’ll leave you both alone!’
‘Dianxia, it’s fine…’ But Xie Lian had already darted back out of the room, waving over his shoulder before he closed the door behind him. Feng Xin sighed and extricated his arm from Fu Yao’s shoulders. ‘See what I mean? He worries too much about everyone else.’
‘Well.’ Fu Yao straightened up until they were sitting side by side against the headboard. ‘You do kind of laugh like you’re yelling.’
‘He’d have whisked you out of here immediately if he actually thought I was yelling at you. That kind of empathy extends to everyone, not just his close friends.’ He sighed again and loosely embraced his knees under the quilt. ‘It’s gotten him into trouble more times than I can count.’
Fu Yao didn’t answer. His expression was complicated when Feng Xin glanced back at him.
‘…Anyway. Let’s sleep,’ he said, climbing out of the bed. ‘Sorry for jumping into bed with you.’
‘It’s you who doesn’t want to share,’ Fu Yao pointed out with another roll of his eyes. Once Feng Xin settled back down on the sofa, as much as he could settle in the cramped space, Fu Yao reached over to turn the light out again.
They didn’t talk again until the morning.
‘Are you okay on your own with Shi Qingxuan today?’ Feng Xin asked as he pulled a ratty old band T-shirt over his head.
Fu Yao waited impatiently by the door. Somehow, aside from the one morning when Jian Lan’s call had woken them both up, he was always dressed and tapping his foot waiting by the time Feng Xin woke up. ‘I think I’ll manage,’ he answered with a roll of his eyes. ‘Any particular subjects you want me to steer clear of?’
‘Uh…’ Feng Xin blew his fringe out of his eyes. ‘I don’t know. Don’t let her strong-arm you into talking about anything personal, because she will ask. And don’t worry about offending her—she’s got the thickest skin of anyone I’ve ever met. If you don’t want to dance on Hua Cheng’s coffee table singing karaoke, then don’t let her force you.’
‘Do I seem like someone who can be forced?’ Fu Yao drawled.
‘No.’ Feng Xin snorted. ‘But I’ve seen her make Hua Cheng blush with some of her questions.’
‘Oh? He has shame?’
‘He has pride.’
‘Who has pride?’
Feng Xin tried to spin around on the spot, one leg half into his jeans, and toppled backwards onto the sofa. Xie Lian stood in the doorway, his head tilted to one side. He was in grey slacks and a soft, white cashmere jumper. His version of casual-wear under Hua Cheng’s doting. ‘Um. He Xuan. He Xuan has pride.’
‘Oh.’ Xie Lian glanced askance at Fu Yao, who just stared back at him, expressionless. Xie Lian smiled. ‘I’m sorry you can’t come with us today.’
‘It’s fine,’ he answered, shrugging one shoulder. ‘Shi Qingxuan and I have the run of this place, right? Can’t really get bored.’
‘I’m glad you think so!’ Xie Lian turned to face him, his back to Feng Xin. ‘If you want to, you should have a look at San Lang’s armoury! He has a vast collection of historically-accurate European and Asian blade replicas, if that’s something you’re interested in?’
Fu Yao’s expression didn’t outwardly change, but Feng Xin thought his black eyes brightened a little. Like someone lit a fire behind them. ‘Maybe I’ll get round to it at some point,’ he answered with just a little too much disinterest.
‘Just go and see, if you want to,’ said Feng Xin, pulling on his running hoodie.
‘I will,’ Fu Yao shot back. ‘If I want to.’
He scoffed. ‘Alright. I’ll ask which is your favourite when we’re back.’
Fu Yao sneered at him. For some reason, it made Xie Lian’s smile widen. He looked at Feng Xin. ‘Are you ready to go?’
‘Yeah.’ Feng Xin ran his hands through his hair in an uncouth mockery of combing it.
He took hold of Fu Yao’s hand as he walked by, instinctively squeezing his fingers before he could stop himself. Fu Yao glanced between their joined hands and Feng Xin’s face. Xie Lian turned away, appearing engrossed in the plain misty white paint on the wall.
‘I’ll see you later. We won’t be long.’
‘Sure. See you later.’
Feng Xin hesitated, wanting to lean in and kiss his cheek. It felt like such a natural thing to do. But Xie Lian wasn’t watching them, and he would probably scold him for making Fu Yao uncomfortable if he noticed.
So he left, his fingers feeling too cold.
There were only four days before the wedding, so the entire bridal party was leaving to pick up their ceremony garments. The grooms had both requested traditional robes of red and gold from two separate tailors, electing to observe the tradition of keeping their wedding outfits from each other until the wedding day.
Feng Xin joined Xie Lian at his tailor’s shop while He Xuan went with Hua Cheng to the other.
Months ago, back when they’d still been organising the finer details of the wedding, Xie Lian had asked Feng Xin numerous times if he was sure he was okay with wearing a plain black tuxedo for the ceremony. Feng Xin had tried assuring him that he would have been happy wearing a bin liner if Xie Lian wanted him to, but even now, less than a week before his own wedding, he looked worried as he examined Feng Xin wearing the suit.
‘It suits you!’ he said, pulling at Feng Xin’s cuffs and straightening his collar. Then he bit his lip. ‘...Are you sure-?’
‘I’m absolutely one-hundred percent certain,’ Feng Xin confirmed. ‘I wouldn’t want to wear a changshan again anyway. Too much like my own wedding.’
Xie Lian smiled, but it was melancholy. ‘Thank you again for this. You didn’t have to say yes if it was too much…’
Feng Xin gripped him gently by the shoulders and waited until warm brown eyes met his gaze again. ‘I agreed to be your groomsman because I wanted to. I’m fine. I promise.’
Xie Lian tried to smile again, but it looked more like a brittle grimace.
‘Come on,’ Feng Xin urged. ‘It’s gonna take us about an hour to get you into all those layers.’
Together, he and the auntie who had tailored them managed to wrap Xie Lian in five layers of ornate red robes, trimmed with golden hand-stitched embroidery. All together it must have been heavy, but he didn’t look the least bit burdened by the weight. He turned this way and that to observe himself in the mirror, like he couldn’t make up his mind about it, even though he looked every bit like a crown prince about to be married.
‘Do you think it’s okay?’ he asked, tilting his head to one side like the angle might make a difference. ‘It’s not too much?’
‘Dianxia, it’s your wedding. There’s no such thing as too much.’
The tailor nodded her silent, eager agreement. Feng Xin could only imagine what Hua Cheng and Xie Lian had paid her for such stunning robes. She certainly looked exhausted enough to have given them her undivided attention for months.
‘Hm…’ Xie Lian continued to muse over them, turning to have a look at the exquisite patterns embroidered down the back in shining gold thread. ‘I do like them…’
The tailor visibly sagged with relief. Feng Xin asked, ‘If you like them, then what’s the problem?’
‘You don’t think everyone will think I’m showing off?’
Feng Xin frowned. ‘It’s your wedding! You’re supposed to show off.’
‘I know, but…’ Xie Lian sighed. ‘I just thought I’d left all this kind of thing behind. It’s a bit strange, that’s all.’
Nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to ruin this special and important part of his best friend’s wedding; not if Feng Xin had any say in it. Certainly not something like the traumatising memory of the scandal that destroyed his family’s wealth and reputation. So he gritted his teeth and said, ‘Dianxia, Hua Cheng thinks you deserve the world. Forget about everyone else. What do you think he’ll think when he finally sees you dressed up in these robes?’
Xie Lian didn’t answer, but the way a soft pink hue pooled in his cheeks strongly implied that Feng Xin would rather he didn’t.
When they returned to Paradise Manor, all layers of wedding robes carefully wrapped in garment bags and lying across Feng Xin’s back seat, Hua Cheng’s crimson convertible was still nowhere in sight.
‘I hope everything’s okay…’ Xie Lian murmured as they rolled to a stop.
‘He Xuan’s probably just complaining about the colour of the necktie Hua Cheng chose for him,’ said Feng Xin. ‘They’ll be back before lunch, I’m sure.’
In the house, Twister greeted them. Feng Xin and Xie Lian stopped short in the doorway, staring at the plastic mat, and then glanced at each other. The game had clearly been set up, but Feng Xin couldn’t tell if Shi Qingxuan had managed to bully Fu Yao into actually playing or not.
The parlour was empty, some Netflix flick still playing on the TV.
The snack cupboard in the kitchen had been raided at some point since that morning.
Eventually, they found Shi Qingxuan in the guest room she was sharing with He Xuan, about eight different outfits draped over the canopy bed.
‘Lianlian!’ she greeted them with a beaming smile. ‘Help me! I need to know which dress best complements your wedding robes!’
Linking her arm through Xie Lian’s, Shi Qingxuan hauled him into the room. ‘Oh- Uh, anything that goes with red will be fine…’
‘Where’s Fu Yao?’ Feng Xin asked, relieved that she knew enough of his complete lack of fashion sense to leave him out of this dilemma.
‘Still in the armoury, probably,’ she answered with a dismissive wave in his direction. ‘I couldn’t even lure him out with Twister!’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Xie Lian answered, struggling to suppress an amused grin.
‘I know!’ Shi Qingxuan pouted for all of a second. Then she grinned excitedly. ‘So, Lianlian, which one of these do you think? I have a few more if you don’t think any are suitable…’
Feng Xin slipped away from the dress-talk, heading back downstairs to search for Fu Yao.
He was completely unsurprised to find him in the armoury less than a minute later, staring at a huge, three-metre sabre displayed on the wall with such awe that his dark irises had practically turned heart-shaped.
Feng Xin watched him, leaning against the doorframe with folded arms and a grin curling at the corners of his mouth.
As though he could hear his amusement, Fu Yao’s gaze snapped round and latched onto him. He froze. Feng Xin watched his pale skin turn pink from the collar of his turtleneck all the way up to the tips of his ears.
‘So…’
‘Shut up!’ he snapped, scowling.
‘You like the zhanmadao, huh?’
‘It’s fine, I guess.’ Fu Yao shrugged. His expression was furious, offset by the deepening crimson blush. He gripped his own elbows and turned his back on Feng Xin.
‘Mine favourite’s the ebony longbow.’ Feng Xin’s amusement faded the longer he watched Fu Yao. He looked so vulnerable, like he was expecting an attack. ‘It’s not embarrassing to like something, you know?’
‘Then why are you making such a big deal out of it?’
‘Because you make it so easy to tease you.’
Fu Yao glared at him over his shoulder.
‘Come on, why do you think you can’t like things? I bet you even like the lot of us beneath that frosty exterior.’
‘You wish.’
‘We’re not the worst, though, right?’
Feng Xin aimed to keep the question light, half-teasing to goad him back into the type of banter Fu Yao seemed more comfortable with; but part of him wanted to know the answer. Maybe he wasn’t Fu Yao’s favourite client of all time, but he hoped he hadn’t had the worst time of his life either.
‘...I haven’t hated being able to speak my native tongue for once,’ Fu Yao admitted through gritted teeth, like it pained him to say it. ‘Xie Lian is kind and Shi Qingxuan is sunshine in the shape of a woman. You, on the other hand, keep pestering me with questions.’
Without waiting for a response, he stormed past Feng Xin and left the room.
Stunned, it took a second for Feng Xin to turn and follow. ‘What now? You don’t like me asking about you?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘It breaks a certain level of confidentiality, Feng Xin.’
‘What confidentiality-?’
The front door swung open. Caught in the middle of the entrance hall, the two of them froze with their eyes glued to the two figures that appeared. Hua Cheng hovered on the threshold, his mismatched eyes narrowing in obvious suspicion. He Xuan, meanwhile, barrelled straight between them in the direction of the kitchen.
‘Lovers’ tiff?’ Hua Cheng asked, crossing his arms.
‘No,’ Feng Xin rebuffed quickly. ‘Just playing.’
‘A-Yao! A-Yao!’
Shi Qingxuan skipped down the curving staircase. Xie Lian scurried after her with his brow furrowed with concern—only to be promptly distracted by the sight of his fiancé in the doorway. A beaming smile spread across his face and he changed direction, latching himself to Hua Cheng’s side.
Fu Yao took a step back from Shi Qingxuan, brushing Feng Xin’s arm. ‘I don’t like Twister.’
‘Huh? No, not that!’ Shi Qingxuan shoved a phone into his face, forcing him to bend backwards to avoid being smacked on the nose. His black eyes almost crossed trying to keep the screen in focus. Feng Xin struggled to hide a snort under a cough. ‘Did you know your boyfriend can sing?!’
All amusement vanished in an instant. Feng Xin made a grab for the phone – Xie Lian’s, judging by the floral protective case – but Fu Yao was faster. Lightning-quick, he snatched the phone out of Shi Qingxuan’s hand and held it high out of reach.
Panic clawing at the back of his throat, he grabbed for Fu Yao instead—only to have a palm thrust straight into his face to hold him back. Fu Yao tapped on the screen with Feng Xin still blindly flailing for it.
‘Please don’t listen!’ Feng Xin was not above begging, not over this. ‘Please! It’s so embarrassing! Dianxia!’
Xie Lian withered a little under the betrayed look on his face. ‘I’m sorry! Qingxuan asked what plans we had for the banquet so I told her I initially asked you to sing, and then she wanted to hear, so…’
It was too late.
The video was playing.
Feng Xin abandoned his rescue attempt and turned away, burying his head in his hands as though that would be enough to hide from complete mortification. Even without looking, he knew exactly what was happening in the video, and what everyone in the entrance hall was about to hear:
Himself, barely nineteen, with shoulder-length hair he never made more than a half-assed attempt to tie back, standing on the raised platform of his university’s students’ union that passed for a stage, strumming a painfully simple riff on a guitar he’d barely known how to play.
And singing an energetic, bouncy tune to the cheesiest romance song that the world had ever had the misfortune to hear.
‘I don’t know this song,’ Fu Yao commented, the words stabbing Feng Xin right in the chest.
‘He wrote it!’ said Xie Lian, who immediately shrank back from the glare aimed at him between tanned fingers.
Evidently bored, or cringing terribly from secondhand embarrassment, Shi Qingxuan scurried away to find He Xuan. A minute later, Xie Lian tip-toed away and pulled a leering Hua Cheng with him. Feng Xin tried to follow, thinking to avoid at least listening to Fu Yao laugh at his humiliation. He made it all of one step before Fu Yao grabbed him by the back of his shirt.
‘Let go, I don’t need to watch you watch my shame-’
‘Shh!’
Feng Xin gritted his teeth and shut his mouth. His face was on fire.
It was the longest four minutes of his life. Finally, the sound of his own voice faded and the phone screen went dark.
There was a painfully long moment of silence.
‘I don’t get why you’re so embarrassed. It wasn’t even that bad.’
‘Why do you sound so disappointed?’ Feng Xin demanded, emerging from his hands at last to glare at him.
‘I wanted revenge for the teasing.’
‘I wasn’t mocking you!’ Feng Xin shook his head, exasperated. ‘Whatever. Sorry you think I can sing too well for you to laugh at.’
Fu Yao shot him an unimpressed look. ‘Don’t get ahead of yourself. I said it wasn’t bad. He paused and then added, ‘Why did you cut your hair?’
Feng Xin shrugged. ‘Cuo Cuo kept yanking it or throwing up in it when he was a baby, and then I kind of just kept it short for work after that.’ He glanced over at him. ‘Why?’
Dark, unreadable eyes lingered on his hair, obvious in their scrutiny. Then he mirrored Feng Xin’s shrug and said, ‘It suited you. That’s all.’
He suspected it was the closest Fu Yao could get to giving a genuine compliment. It made the warmth lingering in his face descend down into his chest and urged Feng Xin to lean in and kiss him on those venomous lips that were allergic to all kind words.
But they were alone, and there was no viable excuse to kiss him.
‘The song…’ A furrow appeared between Fu Yao’s eyebrows and he trailed off, biting his lip.
Feng Xin winced. ‘It sucks, I know.’
‘No, that’s not- I mean.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘Yeah it does, but I mean… Did you write it for…?’
Wishing the ground would swallow him up, Feng Xin admitted through gritted teeth, ‘It was for Jian Lan, yeah.’
Fu Yao still didn’t laugh. He simply nodded, his face an expressionless mask while he slowly twirled Xie Lian’s phone between his fingers.
‘How come you can ask me all these questions, but I can’t ask you, huh?’
‘I’m not asking any more than you. I’m not forcing you to answer, either.’
Feng Xin scowled. ‘You-!’
‘I should give this back,’ Fu Yao interrupted, waving the phone in his face as he turned on his heel with a swish of his ponytail.
Feng Xin followed him to the kitchen in irritated silence, where Shi Qingxuan’s loud, high voice alerted them ahead of time to a sudden change of plans.
‘Xin-ge! A-Yao!’ she called, as though they were opposite sides of a river rather than a handful of feet. ‘We’re going for lunch at that new coffee shop down by the river! You know the one I told you about yesterday?? You two need to go get changed. Xuanxuan’s hungry.’
‘I need to shower,’ Feng Xin and Fu Yao said at the same time. They glanced at one another and frowned.
‘So just go shower together!’ said Shi Qingxuan, like it was that simple.
‘Um,’ said Feng Xin.
‘Just be quick and don’t get distracted, yeah?’ she went on with an unsubtle waggle of elegant eyebrows. ‘Xuanxuan is really hungry.’
Indeed, He Xuan sat at the kitchen island with his face resting on one fist, glaring at the snack cupboard across the room and paying absolutely no attention to anything else in the room.
‘Here,’ said Fu Yao, offering Xie Lian his phone back. ‘Let’s go and shower, Feng Xin.’
Hesitating, Feng Xin scrambled for some kind of an excuse to save them both from suffering such awkwardness. Fu Yao took hold of his hand and dragged him away before he managed to come up with anything at all.
Someone wolf-whistled. Feng Xin showed his middle finger over his shoulder in Hua Cheng’s direction.
Upstairs in the privacy of their guest room, Feng Xin dropped down onto the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. ‘You go ahead. I’ll wait here.’
‘And say what when you go back down and they ask why you don’t smell like soap and your hair’s not wet?’
‘Fine. You go first and I’ll go afterwards. We’ll just have to be quick about it.’
Fu Yao rolled his eyes. ‘Or you can stop being a prude and just get on with it. They’ll think we got up to…stuff either way.’ He gave Feng Xin’s ankle a light kick. ‘Come on. Don’t be a coward. I won’t laugh.’
Feng Xin snorted at him. Heaving a heavy sigh, he reluctantly hauled himself to his feet.
He’d shared showers with other people before. He’d shared locker rooms, been part of various sports teams. His body hadn’t reacted inappropriately before; not even when he was a teenager, when that sort of thing usually happened entirely at random. But now, with his teeth biting into his thumbnail as he watched Fu Yao slip out of his loose T-shirt, he knew he would have a problem.
He was slender, but not skinny. There was subtle muscle definition in the lines of his back. Feng Xin wanted to trace them with his tongue.
The guest room ensuite was large enough to host an entire football team, but the shower itself didn’t exactly have ample space for two tall men to share. Fu Yao stripped off the rest of his clothes, tight jeans and boxer briefs, with enviable confidence. Feng Xin trailed a few paces behind, his heart thumping painfully in his ribcage and his head a little dizzy. He threw off his own clothes with less seductive grace than he would have liked.
Fu Yao didn’t even look back at him until he was standing in the shower, water cascading over his shoulders. Obsidian eyes darted from Feng Xin’s face all the way down his pecs to his abdomen and below, where they latched onto his cock and seemed to get stuck. He wasn’t hard – thank god – but there was definitely a little more blood down there than normal.
‘It’s fine. You can look,’ said Feng Xin, a little twinge of pride doing its best to offset the cripplingly loud anxiety in his chest.
Fu Yao’s eyes snapped back up in a glare and turned away, tossing his loose hair over his shoulder. The water turned it glossy, shining silver under the sharp fluorescent lights.
Feng Xin stepped in behind him and closed the glass door, trapping them close together in the tight space.
‘Want me to wash your back?’
The question bubbled out of his mouth without permission. He blamed the deafening anxiety and the absurd situation, but realised he was only half joking. There certainly wasn’t enough room for them to wash themselves at the same time without arms getting tangled or elbows prodding where they shouldn’t. He wouldn’t say no to the opportunity to glide his fingertips across porcelain skin, either. But he couldn’t imagine Fu Yao allowing it.
Fu Yao shrugged and pulled his wet hair over one shoulder out of the way.
His back was gorgeous, a smooth pale expanse of lithe muscle. The subtle indent of his spine led all the way down from his elegant neck to a plump, round ass. Feng Xin wanted to fall to his knees and sink his teeth into that soft flesh. He wanted to grip both cheeks in his palms and squeeze. He wanted to thrust his tongue between them and taste him.
Instead, he snatched the shower gel from the shelf and poured a generous amount into his palm.
Fu Yao looked like he should be cold to the touch, but he wasn’t. His skin was warm under Feng Xin’s palms with a little flush of colour where the hot water poured down his back. His shoulders tensed under Feng Xin’s first touch, but tentatively began to relax under gentle kneading.
Gentle hands moved in slow circles, thumbs pressing into smooth skin. Fingers glided from shoulder blades to the small of his back to his hips, brushing just shy of his rear. Feng Xin refused to grope him uninvited. He couldn’t, however, resist digging his thumbs into tiny little indents either side of his spine, fingers wrapped around sharp hip bones.
A soft, muffled moan made him pause.
Fu Yao’s hands snapped up from where they’d been lathering the ends of his hair in shampoo to cover his mouth.
Feng Xin’s fingers flexed, desperate to grip and hold him close, but he resisted. He didn’t want Fu Yao to feel trapped. Whether this was part of his job or not, he refused to make him feel forced.
He leant closer, moving slowly, giving Fu Yao every opportunity to step away.
He pressed a feather-light kiss to the back of his shoulder.
Fu Yao shivered, the motion so slight it was barely noticeable. He didn’t pull away, yell, or hit him. Careful to remain as gentle as possible, Feng Xin continued to trail kisses from the nape of his neck to the curve of his arm. Fu Yao smelled of the lavender-scented soap and tasted of fresh water.
‘Don’t look at me,’ Fu Yao demanded, his strong voice wavering.
Well, now that he’d demanded it, Feng Xin couldn’t resist. He peeked over his shoulder, down his front.
The sight of his cock, flushed red and hard and strained up towards his stomach, nearly made him groan aloud.
Fu Yao was still shivering between his hands despite the scalding hot water and their close proximity. Feng Xin pressed another kiss behind his ear. He drew him closer until they were pressed back-to-chest to let him feel his own arousal and whispered, ‘It’s okay.’
He received no answer, but Fu Yao didn’t lurch away from him in disgust, like he feared. Letting his head fall to one side, he revealed more of that long, elegant neck. Feng Xin kissed his snowy skin again. And again.
Emboldened, he drew it between his lips and sucked, nipped, and licked until pretty pink bruises started to bloom. His hands, slippery from the water and the soap, glided down his sides. They slipped around his narrow waist and drifted up a toned stomach to his chest, gripping and groping with every little gasp and moan they induced. His fingertips brushed the edges of small pink nipples and Fu Yao’s breath caught, his back arching against Feng Xin. He threw his head back against his shoulder, simultaneously pushing his chest into adventurous hands and his rear into an eager groin.
Feng Xin moaned softly, the light friction delicious but nowhere near satisfying.
The sound of his own voice, echoing faintly in the vast bathroom, snapped him out of his lustful haze. He dropped his hands and stepped back, disgust beginning to claw up his throat for what he’d just done. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-’
Fu Yao whipped around, glaring, and snapped, ‘Don’t start what you can’t finish!’
‘I’m sorry-’
Fu Yao grabbed him by the back of the neck and dragged him into a bruising kiss. Long fingers gripped his hair, pulling tight. That sharp tongue thrust between Feng Xin’s lips, parted in surprise, to dominate his mouth.
Feng Xin gripped Fu Yao’s waist, torn between pushing him away and pulling him close. He knew he should gently turn him down, that allowing this to continue in any way would complicate everything.
But he didn’t.
Base desires finally winning the battle against his better judgement, he slammed Fu Yao back against the tiled wall, one arm snaking around his waist while the other gripped his jaw, angling his face to deepen what was rapidly growing too filthy to be called a kiss. Fu Yao punished him with a hard nip to his lower lip and Feng Xin pushed his thumb between his teeth to keep them parted, licking into it and drawing his tongue back into his own mouth to suck on, hard.
Hot water poured over them. The steam was so thick it was hard to catch their breath between huffs, moans and soft groans. Their cocks, flushed, hard, wet, and trapped side by side between the firm plains of their stomachs, rubbed subtly against one another. Tantalising but unsatisfying. Fu Yao clawed his fingers into Feng Xin’s hair and tugged. Feng Xin broke the kiss and pressed the pad of his thumb down onto his tongue until saliva pooled at the corners of his mouth.
Fu Yao panted around the invasion, hot gusts of air across Feng Xin’s palm. Tiny droplets of water sparkled in his eyelashes, impossibly dark irises reflecting Feng Xin’s hungry expression.
He released his mouth to pin both of Fu Yao’s narrow wrists to the wall above his head, gripping both with one hand.
‘Like to show off that brute strength, huh?’ Fu Yao goaded with a tilted grin.
‘Tell me if you don’t like it,’ Feng Xin huffed back, scanning the shelves beside them for some kind of lubricant. He knew it would be there. There had been too many details shared when Xie Lian first moved into Paradise Manor with Hua Cheng, and Feng Xin knew for a fact exactly how many rooms in the house had been christened, so to speak (all of them). Sure enough, he found the small bottle left hidden behind the fancy conditioner.
Fu Yao didn’t pull away. He didn’t tell Feng Xin to stop. One corner of his mouth curled up even higher in what could only be perceived as a challenge.
Feng Xin didn’t want to bicker anymore. He wanted to make Fu Yao moan and writhe until he was begging, until he couldn’t smirk anymore. Until the very mask of “Fu Yao” fell away to reveal the man underneath.
He needed it.
Squeezing lube into his palm one-handed proved to be more difficult than Feng Xin anticipated, and Fu Yao cackled cruelly at him while he struggled. That dark gaze was hot on his face, boring relentlessly into him until Feng Xin reached down between them and wrapped his fingers around him.
It was all worth it just to see Fu Yao’s eyelashes flutter at the touch.
‘…You don’t get much out of it this way,’ he sneered, ruining the effect.
‘I get everything I want out of it this way,’ Feng Xin countered. His hands squeezed of their own accord, around his wrists and his cock at the same time, and Fu Yao released a little huff. Feng Xin started to stroke him, slowly. The steam permeated his mind, leaving his thoughts foggy. The room seemed to spin, the powerful spray of the water and those fathomless eyes, full of heat and hunger, were the only things keeping him grounded.
Feng Xin sped up his movements a little, twisting loosely at the tip and pressing his thumb lightly into his frenulum until Fu Yao’s breath stuttered. He kissed a trail from the corner of his parted lips along his cheek, stopping only to pull his earlobe gently between his teeth. ‘The things I want to do to you…’ he sighed, wincing as his own dick gave a particularly painful throb of protest at being ignored.
Fu Yao bared his neck for him. ‘Tell me,’ he murmured, a hint of that teasing lilt still audible in a voice that turned sinfully low. ‘Maybe I’ll let you.’
The delicate skin of Feng Xin’s lower lip threatened to split under the force of his teeth as he bit down against a groan. He didn’t know how to put his desires into words. He wanted everything Fu Yao was willing to give him.
To lay him out on his back and worship him.
To rail into him from behind and press his face into the quilt to muffle his cries.
To let him ride his cock to a mind-blowing climax.
To put a collar around his own neck and hand Fu Yao the leash.
More than anything, Feng Xin just wanted to bring him pleasure. His own didn’t matter. He stroked Fu Yao faster, and relished in his wavering, panting breath. The tiniest moan escaped his throat, easily missed if it hadn’t been right by his ear.
‘…This will end too fast if you keep going,’ Fu Yao whispered, letting his lips brush against the shell of Feng Xin’s ear. ‘You won’t have the chance to do any of the things you want to do to me. Won’t you tell me?’
Feng Xin had to bite into the meat of Fu Yao’s shoulder to stop himself from rutting like a beast into his hip. ‘I want to make you come.’
Fu Yao released a shaky sigh, his breath hot against his neck. He let his forehead rest against Feng Xin’s shoulder, his wrists flexing in his grip. His legs trembled and his cock dribbled with sticky fluid. His breathing grew louder.
The hand stroking him came to a stop, squeezing tight just under the head. Fu Yao jerked with a gasp, lurching back to stare down between them. His eyes flashed up to Feng Xin’s face, full of frustration, annoyance, and deep arousal.
Feng Xin offered a sly grin of his own. ‘But not yet.’
‘You utter bastard,’ Fu Yao hissed, writhing in his grip. ‘Get me off!’
‘Right now?’ Feng Xin asked innocently, slowly loosening his fist until he was stroking again with the least satisfying friction possible. Fu Yao’s nostrils flared. The question was teasing, but it was also an out. Feng Xin would finish him off without protest if he didn’t like being edged, but he doubted Fu Yao’s pride would let him accept if he asked outright. ‘I know you can stop me if you don’t like it.’
Fu Yao let his head fall back against the tiles. ‘Make it worth my while,’ he demanded, grinning again. ‘Or else I’ll leave you here unsatisfied.’
‘Fine.’
Feng Xin kissed his grinning lips, giving a pleased hum when they immediately parted to let him enter. He tightened his hold and started to stroke him with purpose, swallowing down every stuttered sigh and deep moan until Fu Yao was twitching in his palm. Feng Xin brought him right to the edge and squeezed him tight for a second time, pressing a soothing kiss to Fu Yao’s cheek as he hissed a string of colourful curses.
‘You okay?’ Feng Xin whispered as he calmed down again.
Fu Yao scoffed in response. Or at least tried to—it sounded more like a stuttered sob. ‘Fine. Get on with it.’
He edged him one more time, and then decided that three times was enough when Fu Yao couldn’t stop trembling afterwards. Feng Xin released his wrists to cup his jaw, angling his face for a soft, deep kiss. Fu Yao let his arms fall to drape over his shoulders, his shaking fingers returning to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.
Releasing him long enough to give him a break from stimulation, Feng Xin reached for the lube again to slick himself up. Fu Yao smiled against him, swiping his lips with the tip of his tongue. ‘Jumping the gun a bit, aren’t you?’ he teased, the words a little muffled and garbled around the kiss he made very little effort to escape from. ‘You can’t just shove it in.’
A low growl rumbled in Feng Xin’s chest. ‘You think I don’t know that?’ He took hold of his arms and pulled him away from the tiles, turning him to lean up against the foggy glass partition, face first. ‘I’m not shoving it in anywhere.’
‘No?’ He had the audacity to sound disappointed. Feng Xin bit lightly into his shoulder. ‘You can if you want to.’
‘We don’t have time. And I don’t have the patience.’ He pulled Fu Yao’s hips back a little from the glass, a hand between his shoulder blades to keep his chest pressed against it. ‘Cross your legs.’
Fu Yao made a sound like a purr as realisation struck. He crossed his arms against the glass and rested his face against them as he crossed his ankles. ‘Like my thighs?’
‘I like you.’
His trembles turned violent under Feng Xin’s gentle manhandling. But Feng Xin was so focused on the tight, warm squeeze of his muscular inner thighs around his cock, firm but soft and heavenly, the tip rubbing against the back of smooth shaven balls, that he didn’t even register what he’d just said.
He muffled a low groan against Fu Yao’s shoulder. The first slow thrust was almost overwhelming after ignoring his own pleasure for so long. Hands steadying his hips, Feng Xin thrust slowly between the tight pressure of his thighs twice more before he pressed close again, draping himself against Fu Yao’s back as he reached down for his cock once more.
Fu Yao sighed at the first touch and rocked back into Feng Xin’s slow thrusts.
They started slow, moving tentatively together until they found a rhythm. Feng Xin brushed Fu Yao’s wet hair over one shoulder, allowing him unobstructed access to his upper back and neck. He left wet, open-mouthed kisses along his skin that created pretty pink marks. He stroked him to the same pace as their thrusting, twisting loosely and rubbing his thumb across the tip with every upward motion.
With his free hand, Feng Xin glided across his abdomen, feeling the muscles twitch and tense under his palm, and up towards his chest where his fingers paused to press and play with each of his nipples in turn.
Feng Xin kissed all the way up to his ear. Fu Yao dipped his head forward to allow him access to the sensitive spot just behind the lobe. Feng Xin couldn’t help himself; he sank his teeth into the delicate skin, sucking hard where he couldn’t hope to hide a vicious lovebite. Fu Yao drew in a sharp breath through his teeth, tensing under Feng Xin.
‘Bastard,’ he uttered again, breathless and lascivious.
Admiring the bruise he left behind, Feng Xin responded by tightening his grip and stroking him faster, matching the pace with his hips. Fu Yao grunted softly, fingernails scratching uselessly at the smooth glass wall for purchase.
His thighs tensed, constricting the space between so much that it was tantamount to actually being inside him: hot, slick and tight. Feng Xin drew Fu Yao’s earlobe between his lips, suckling lightly and shuddering at the breathy moan it elicited.
‘Fu Yao…’ he breathed against his ear. ‘You’re stunning.’
Fu Yao shivered, arching his back into Feng Xin’s chest. His nails clawed into the glass until his fingertips turned white. He ducked his head, gasping quietly, watching himself disappear into a grip that wasn’t his own. Feng Xin rutted between his thighs, struggling to restrain the low groans that threatened to tear from his throat. It was so tight, but soft too; hot and slick and every thrust drew a soft moan as he thrust up into the sensitive strip of smooth skin between Fu Yao’s legs.
‘You drive me insane,’ Feng Xin went on in a low growl, the words escaping him like incoherent babble. ‘You’re so annoying.’
Fu Yao suddenly froze. Feng Xin barely noticed.
‘I hate how much it riles me up. Your stupidly pretty face and your bratty mouth—it should annoy me. Should put me off…all of this. But it doesn’t. Makes me want you more. Makes me want to argue and snap and shout until there’s nothing else but this.’
Fu Yao moaned, loudly. He went boneless in Feng Xin’s hands, his nails scratching down the glass as he slipped a few inches, almost doubling over. Feng Xin lifted him gently back up without breaking rhythm, helping him find purchase again.
‘I want you so much,’ he kept babbling. He was barely aware of his own words, but they were true regardless.
‘…You have me,’ Fu Yao whispered, his voice shaking. ‘Right now. You have me.’
‘I want you always. I want you to tease me and make fun of me and laugh at how lame I was as a kid, and how stupid I can be, and let me fight back without- without-’ His movements stuttered as he let out a guttural groan, heat coiling tight in his gut.
‘You do get off on degradation.’ Fu Yao laughed, a breathy, shaky sound. Feng Xin pinched his nipple in retaliation, earning a soft, ‘Ah-!’
‘…’ Feng Xin struggled to catch his breath. ‘…Fu Yao-’
‘Mu Qing.’
He panted, desperately trying to maintain his rhythm. His climax was right there, millimetres out of reach. ‘Huh?’
‘My name- my name is Mu Qing.’
Feng Xin’s chest seized and he lost his rhythm, feet threatening to slip out from under him on the wet marble floor. His eyes burned with emotion and he desperately didn’t want to burst into tears. There was no more effective means to completely ruin the mood and possibly frighten Fu Yao… No, Mu Qing off for good. He couldn’t risk that. Not now he’d been gifted something so special.
He tightened his grip, stroking faster. With his other hand, he gripped Mu Qing by the jaw and guided his face around to kiss him, swallowing a sudden high-pitched keen.
‘Mu Qing…’ Feng Xin whispered against his lips, tasting the shape of his name for the first time.
Mu Qing shuddered and tensed, clenching tight around him.
Feng Xin gasped. His legs trembled and his groin pulsed, orgasm washing over him completely unprepared. He went to bite down on Mu Qing’s shoulder to muffle his moans, but a hand snapped up to grab him by the back of the neck, yanking him back into a kiss. Mu Qing thrust his tongue into his mouth, dominating the space as Feng Xin shot his ecstasy across the glass between his legs.
He felt boneless as the high faded. Mu Qing released him, and Feng Xin pulled back to look into the dark depths of his fathomless black eyes. He looked… uncertain.
Feng Xin needed to banish that expression. He tapped him lightly on the rear and murmured, ‘Turn around, Mu Qing.’
He was slow to comply. Fifteen minutes earlier, Feng Xin would have attributed it to a natural stubborn contrariness; now, he wasn’t so sure. Dropping to his knees on the unforgiving floor, he took hold of Mu Qing’s sinfully narrow waist to keep him still and swallowed him down to the root in one smooth motion. Strong hands came to claw into his hair, gripping tight. Feng Xin pulled out every trick he could think of, taking the head down into his throat and pulling back to flick his tongue into the leaking slit, pressing the flat of his tongue firmly against the underside as he sucked him down again.
Mu Qing’s breath came fast and harsh, moans repressed to soft whimpers, like he was holding himself back where he hadn’t been before.
Teased and edged and riled up so much, it didn’t take him long to finish. Feng Xin was on his knees for probably less than two minutes, groaning with quiet abandon to let the vibrations of his throat carry Mu Qing through his own climax, swallowing everything he gave like some kind of rare treat.
His eyes were red-rimmed when Feng Xin climbed back to his feet. Despite the hot water still pouring over them, despite the steam that had fogged the glass, he was shivering.
Feng Xin pulled him gently into an embrace without a word. Mu Qing didn’t respond, arms pulled close to his chest. But he allowed the contact, and even let his head rest against Feng Xin’s shoulder.
A quiet knock on the door made them spring apart like they’d been struck by lightning, banging into the tiles and the glass on opposite sides of the cramped space.
‘Guys?’ Xie Lian called softly. ‘I’m really sorry, but He Xuan is getting very hungry…’
Feng Xin’s heart thumped a staccato rhythm against his ribcage. How long had he been on the other side of the door? How much had he heard? It took him a second to catch his breath to call back, ‘Sorry, Dianxia. We’re almost done.’
Mu Qing turned his back, grabbed the conditioner and started to comb it through his long hair.
‘…I’m sorry!’ Xie Lian called again, and Feng Xin winced. He’d heard something, clearly. He reached for the shower gel and gave himself the quickest scrub down ever. As expected, arms got tangled and elbows prodded—only it was far worse now, since awkwardness permeated the cramped space and Mu Qing refused to look at or acknowledge him at all. They didn’t speak until they were back in the guest room, drying themselves off and dressing in lunch-appropriate outfits.
‘…Hey,’ Feng Xin ventured as Mu Qing plugged in his hair dryer. Mu Qing paused, the only indication that he was listening. ‘Is it okay if I call you by your real name?’
‘How do you plan to explain my sudden name change to everyone else?’ he retorted, his tone cool and neutral.
‘In private, then.’
Mu Qing shrugged. ‘Do what you want.’
He turned on the hair dryer, ending the conversation.
Feng Xin’s gut churned as he watched him, painfully aware that Mu Qing was purposefully not meeting his gaze in the mirror. He couldn’t tell what had just happened. Mu Qing was just as much to blame for escalating things as Feng Xin, but he doubted that argument would hold any weight if, after the wedding, he was handed a hefty bill with an extra three thousand attached to it.
But he couldn’t ask either. On the slim chance he hadn’t done it as part of the job, asking how much he owed him now would just be insulting.
Feng Xin sighed. He would just have to leave the ball in Mu Qing’s court.
Lunch was uneventful. Feng Xin did his best to act like nothing was wrong, to keep the awkward self-loathing out of his laughter when Shi Qingxuan pointedly asked what had taken them so long, and tried not to keep too much distance from Mu Qing, as much as he felt compelled to. Mu Qing was quiet, but otherwise didn’t seem affected.
Afterwards, as much as Feng Xin wanted to run back to his own apartment and hide, he couldn’t think of a valid reason to give the others. Besides, Shi Qingxuan was apparently still on her Twister agenda and demanded they all play as soon as they returned to the manor. Mu Qing gently but firmly refused, and as a result they compromised on letting him control the spinner.
The same kind of refusal did not work for Feng Xin.
Hua Cheng failed on purpose three moves in to excuse himself. He took a seat on the floor to the side of the mat that just so happened to give him the best view of Xie Lian’s ass.
He Xuan tried to do the same, but one pout from Shi Qingxuan made him huff and maintain his splayed downward dog pose with his hands and feet on all four corners.
Xie Lian remained stuck in a forward fold for several rounds, the spinner landing on the same colours every time. He seemed quite comfortable, if a little embarrassed when he realised Hua Cheng was sitting right behind him.
Shi Qingxuan deliberately chose the most awkward spots to move to with every turn, twisting herself around all the other bodies on the mat as much as possible and bending over backwards just because she could. It made her floaty blouse ride up a little and Feng Xin had to stare at a freckle on his own shoulder to avoid having to stare at her bare navel.
He quickly came to the conclusion that Mu Qing must be tampering with the spinner every time it came to his turn. He ended up in the most awkward, ridiculous positions which brought his face far too close to other people’s chests or groins or behinds. Every time Feng Xin thought about just letting himself fall to escape, Hua Cheng goaded him into continuing.
‘I thought archers were supposed to be strong,’ he mocked with an exaggerated sigh. ‘I can see your arms trembling.’
‘Archery uses very specific muscles!’ Feng Xin shot back, glaring between Xie Lian’s ankles. ‘Get off your high horse, you failed first.’
‘Why are you blushing, Feng Xin? You must have been this close to a woman before in order to have a child.’
‘I was married to that woman! Shut the fuck up!’
This was stupid. They were all grown adults playing a kids’ game just because none of them had enough of a backbone to say no to Shi Qingxuan. The same Shi Qingxuan whose bosom was pressed right up against Feng Xin’s cheek. The same Shi Qingxuan whose boyfriend was currently glaring daggers at him from the other side of Xie Lian’s legs, when it wasn’t even Feng Xin’s fault they were in this awful position. The same Shi Qingxuan who was fucking giggling.
With a glance to the side, Feng Xin realised that if his right hand had to move to the only blue spot left on the mat, it would bring him right between Xie Lian’s legs.
Hua Cheng would kill him on the spot.
To the side of the mat, Mu Qing flicked the spinner. Feng Xin watched the tip of his thumb drift close to the right-hand-blue spot.
‘Hey- Fu Yao!’ he shouted, one arm snapping out to snatch the spinner from his hands. His wrist caught He Xuan’s elbow, who toppled forward into the back of Xie Lian’s knees, who dominoed straight across Shi Qingxuan’s chest.
‘Oof-!’
‘Ah!’
‘Gah!’
‘Ouch-!’
They landed in such a tangled heap that it was impossible for any of them to escape. Shi Qingxuan cackled loudly and made no attempt to help at all. At the bottom of the pile, He Xuan wheezed. Feng Xin tried to wriggle out of the heap, but only managed to free himself when Hua Cheng swooped in and plucked Xie Lian out.
There was no opportunity to talk after the Twister fiasco. Hua Cheng had threatened Feng Xin’s life for making Xie Lian fall with such a casual air that it was somehow more terrifying than if a knife had been held against his throat. Once released, he quickly realised that Mu Qing wasn’t going to leave the rest of the group for the next several hours, sticking close to either Xie Lian or Shi Qingxuan. He didn’t want to talk about it.
Fine.
It wasn’t fine; Feng Xin’s chest itched with all the things he wanted to say, and all the questions he would be too cowardly to ask anyway.
As the sun started to set, he had to drag himself away from Paradise Manor alone to prepare for Xie Lian’s stag night. He would just have to put Mu Qing to the back of his mind to fret about later. Xie Lian’s night deserved his undivided attention.
It was easier said than done. The venue was a cosy little dive bar, the only place in the city that sold anything resembling alcohol that Xie Lian liked. The place was so small and the three staff so enthralled by such a novel event as a stag night happening, that preparations took less than an hour. Not that there was much to prepare in the first place; Xie Lian had specifically asked for a quiet event. There was alcohol and there was music, and the place was exclusively theirs for the night.
Not much else for Feng Xin to do but gnaw on his fingernails and wait; nauseous, headsore and yearning for someone to show up early and save him from the whirling tornado of his own thoughts.
Pei Ming was the first to arrive, an entire crate of some alcoholic-energy-drink monstrosity propped on one shoulder. ‘Feng Xin!’ he called from the doorway, grinning broadly from ear to ear with his free arm raised much higher than necessary. ‘How are you?! Where’s the pretty boyfriend?!’
Feng Xin changed his mind. He wanted to turn Pei Ming around, shove him right back out the door and lock it behind him.
By some miracle, other people started showing up before Pei Ming could grill him with too many embarrassing questions and mortifying insinuations about Mu Qing. They were mostly friends, friends-of-friends and work colleagues of Xie Lian. For the most part, they were all decent, sensible people. The only one Feng Xin had to stress about taking it upon themself to arrange for anything or any one inappropriate to turn up was Pei Ming. Feng Xin was so busy keeping a close eye on him that he didn’t realise Xie Lian had arrived until a collective cheer deafened the entire bar.
Xie Lian always looked good, but he looked especially handsome in his soft white blazer – which probably cost a small fortune – and with his long hair left to fall down his back, stark against the fabric. Beside him, Shi Qingxuan’s glittering teal dress demanded the attention of every eye in the room, and she was quite happy to accept them. With one arm linked around He Xuan’s elbow, whom she had apparently convinced to wear a subdued A-line skirt for the night, she went around greeting everyone and anyone, even the bar staff, with enthusiastic joy.
Mu Qing stood close to Xie Lian, holding a glass of some fruity-looking cocktail. While Xie Lian’s white blazer and Shi Qingxuan’s teal dress were both eye-catching choices, Mu Qing was wearing various shades of black and grey, with only the collar of a deep blue silk shirt showing beneath a long black overcoat with broad lapels. His jeans were grey, wrapped so tight around his long legs it was a wonder he could move at all in them, with elegant patterns embroidered in jet black thread down the thighs.
Still, he was the one Feng Xin’s eyes felt drawn to.
Their gazes met across the room. Mu Qing’s expression didn’t change, his eyes giving away nothing. But as Xie Lian ventured into the crowd to chat with some coworkers, Mu Qing wandered in Feng Xin’s direction. He kept his pace slow, as though walking idly and just so happened to come to a stop at Feng Xin’s shoulder.
He said nothing. Sipping his drink, he lowered his eyes to Feng Xin’s shoulder. Even if they still weren’t talking, he was apparently not entirely beyond forgiveness.
Feng Xin took a breath to speak, to say… something, he wasn’t quite sure what. But then he spotted Pei Ming out of the corner of his eye, phone up to his ear, and panicked. ‘Who are you calling?!’ he yelled over the low chatter and quiet music. ‘That better not be a stripper!’
Xie Lian’s head snapped up, eyes wide. Several people turned to stare as Feng Xin marched over to him.
He managed to avert the crisis. Barely. The line had just connected by the time Feng Xin managed to wrestle the phone of Pei Ming’s grasp, spluttering and blushing while the other just laughed at him.
‘You’re absurd,’ said Mu Qing when their tussle was over, Pei Ming’s confiscated smartphone in Feng Xin’s tight grasp.
‘Me?’ Feng Xin demanded, shoving the phone into his pocket.
‘Mn,’ Mu Qing hummed, and then promptly returned to not talking to him. Still, he stuck close to his side for the rest of the night. It might have just been because Mu Qing didn’t know anyone else there except for He Xuan and Shi Qingxuan, but nevertheless it made Feng Xin feel a little less like the ground might spontaneously open up beneath him and plunge him into the abyss.
Even though Xie Lian had been ready to call it a night since about ten, Feng Xin didn’t manage to convince everyone to leave until one, and by then they were all too exhausted to do anything except collapse into a taxi and doze all the way back to the manor. Shi Qingxuan was still wide awake, but very tipsy and quite happy to hold a conversation all by herself.
Feng Xin didn’t wake up until early afternoon the next day, and that was only because Shi Qingxuan banged on their door to summon him and Mu Qing downstairs for a pancake lunch.
‘Yeah, yeah, we’re coming!’ Feng Xin called back, rubbing his eyes.
‘Be quick about it, or Xuanxuan’ll eat your share!’ she called. She still sounded a little drunk.
Feng Xin heaved a breath and sat up as her skipping footsteps faded back down the corridor. Mu Qing was already awake, showered and dressed with his hair tied up in its flawless ponytail, lounging on a bed already made with the scatter cushions back in place. Feng Xin sighed. ‘You could’ve woken me up. Or gone downstairs. You didn’t need to wait for me.’
Mu Qing didn’t look up from his phone. ‘S’fine.’
They needed to talk. They had to address it somehow; it was tearing Feng Xin apart, not knowing whether Mu Qing had slept with him because he wanted to, or whether it had just been a means to trick more money out of him.
He held his pounding head, for which he didn’t think last night’s beer was entirely to blame.
‘It’s the fiancé’s stag night tonight, right?’ Mu Qing asked. ‘Do we have to go?’
Xie Lian’s and Hua Cheng’s stag nights were on different days to account for their mutual friends. Two nights of drinking in a row didn’t appeal to Feng Xin quite as much as it used to. ‘We don’t have to. Xie Lian asked me to, though, so I will. You can stay here if you want, or go home for a night. I don’t mind.’
Mu Qing shrugged. ‘It’s not like I have anything better to do. And the drinks are free.’
‘…Right.’ Feng Xin braced himself. ‘Listen, Mu Qing-’
‘Xin-ge! A-Yao!!’
Mu Qing bounded off the bed like Shi Qingxuan’s impatient shouting literally hauled him up. ‘I’ll see you downstairs,’ he said, already halfway out the door. Then he was gone.
Hua Cheng’s stag night was supposed to be organised by He Xuan, which probably meant Shi Qingxuan made most of the decisions. The basement nightclub she directed them all to that evening seemed more her scene than He Xuan’s or Hua Cheng’s.
The bass thumped in Feng Xin’s bones. The music was all bass—if there were any lyrics, he couldn’t hear them. He couldn’t hear much of anything other than the thumping beat that made his teeth rattle. Neon lights flashed off the black walls, the black ceiling, the bodies grinding on the dance floor. Some of them had been at Xie Lian’s much quieter gathering. Other, shadier folk Feng Xin had never seen before in his life drifted around Hua Cheng like he was some respected leader of a gang.
Maybe he was. Feng Xin didn’t like to consider the possibility in case it was true. Then he would have to ask Xie Lian. And then Xie Lian would probably already know, which would make it so much worse.
Free from the responsibility of making sure this stag night went smoothly, he lurked in the corner furthest from the speakers and nursed a beer. Mu Qing lurked with him, looking even more out of his depth than the night before.
An hour into the night, still way too sober for any kind of nightclub, he had long given up trying to yell into Mu Qing’s ear to hold some kind of conversation. He still didn’t look inclined to talk, even if they could hear each other. They stood side by side in awkward, sober silence, watching everyone else dance and laugh and shout uselessly at one another.
After another half-hour or so, Feng Xin only realised Mu Qing was trying to talk to him when he gripped his shoulder and gave him a rough shake.
‘What?!’ he yelled.
Mu Qing’s mouth shaped silent words.
‘Huh?!’
Giving up with a pout that was unfairly cute, Mu Qing pulled out his phone. He tapped out a message and then turned the screen towards Feng Xin.
I need some air.
Feng Xin nodded in understanding and Mu Qing headed for the stairs with the ‘Exit’ sign glowing above them, tucking his phone back into his pocket as he disappeared into the crowd.
Even though they’d done nothing but stand silent and awkward side by side at the edge of the room, Feng Xin felt his absence keenly. It was like a sudden void appeared at his shoulder, nothing but empty space. Not even air. He stared down at his watered-down beer and focused on the steady pounding in his head keeping up with the beat of the music.
A shove to his arm that nearly sent him toppling over sideways snatched his attention.
Hua Cheng stared at him like he might stare at a particularly ugly and pathetic stray dog. He jerked his chin towards the fire exit, pointing with the hand holding a small glass of what looked like Scotch.
Feng Xin blinked at him, confused. Was there a fire? Surely the music would stop if there was a fire.
Another shove sent him stumbling towards the steps. It was, apparently, less of an invitation and more of an instruction.
The steps led up to a paved terrace. Various groups had congregated up here to either smoke or chat. The music was still loud, pounding beneath their feet, but muffled enough to be able to speak. One group in the corner was being particularly rowdy, yelling across the two-foot distances between them amidst roaring laughter. Liquids of various colours spilled over the rims of their cups and splashed over the pavestones. Shi Qingxuan was among them. Feng Xin didn’t know any of the others, and doubted she did either.
Hua Cheng went to lean against the iron railing, its black paint peeling.
‘...Xie Lian will know if you murder me,’ said Feng Xin after a few too many seconds of silence.
‘I wouldn’t choose to do it here,’ he shot back far too casually without looking up. ‘Your pretty boyfriend. Where did you find him, and how much did you pay for him?’
Feng Xin’s heart gave a lurch. He tried to brush it off with a humourless snort. ‘You’re not funny.’
‘I’m not trying to be.’ Hua Cheng glanced sideways at him, and the expression confirmed that his question was deadly serious. ‘I bet he’s expensive.’
His skin was pale, but not the delicate porcelain or snowy pale of Mu Qing. Feng Xin thought Hua Cheng looked ill. Xie Lian had assured him that he wasn’t, misinterpreting the question when Feng Xin had asked it for concern. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. His heart felt like it had forgotten how to beat properly. He didn’t know how to handle panic, so he got angry instead. ‘Of everyone here tonight, you just had to be a fucking dick to me, huh?’
‘You can throw insults at me all you like, but it won’t make it untrue, will it?’
‘You really think I’m so pathetic that I can’t hook up with anyone but a professional?’
‘Yes, in a word.’ Hua Cheng shrugged and took a sip from his class. ‘You’ve always been pathetic, but you got a hundred times worse after your divorce.’
Feng Xin flinched. ‘You’re the pinnacle of empathy.’
‘Answer the question. How much did you pay for him?’
‘I didn’t pay for him.’ Yet. ‘Why’s it so hard to believe we’re just together? Like a normal couple?’
‘You’re not his type.’
He blue screened. ‘Excuse me? How could you possibly know that?’
‘Or rather…’ Hua Cheng made a show of thinking about it, going so far as to rub his pointed chin. Feng Xin rolled his eyes. ‘Nobody’s his type. He’s never been in a relationship long-term before. He doesn’t know what it is, or what it means.’
‘...Tell you all that himself, did he?’
He chuckled, one corner of his lips curling up in a sneering grin. ‘Don’t be absurd. It’s obvious. He has no idea how to cope every time you’re gentle towards him, and he looks at you like everything you say or do is a means to an end, or has an ulterior motive.’ Hua Cheng looked at Feng Xin, and his expression turned more cruel. ‘Meanwhile, you look at him like he hung the moon and stars in the sky.’
‘You’re confusing me with you. That’s how you look at Dianxia.’ It was a cheap shot, and his heart wasn’t in it. His heart was currently trying to dig itself out of his chest to bury itself somewhere in the ground where it could keep being trampled on.
‘Gege is worthy of everyone’s reverence, and you aren’t worthy of even a gram of his attention. Nevertheless, that’s, sadly, not my choice to make.’
‘You’re a dick.’
‘And you’re pathetic. Are you going to tell him you love him or not?’
‘...The fuck are you talking about?’
‘Well, either you tell him you’re in love with him or he’ll disappear into the sunset with a hefty chunk of your savings in his pocket, wondering if all of that gentleness was as much of an act as his presence at mine and Gege’s wedding.’
Feng Xin’s head hurt. ‘If you’re trying to tell me something, will you just get on with it and stop making me dance to your stupid tune?!’
Hua Cheng sighed, long and heavy. ‘If you still don’t get it, you're beyond help.’ He knocked back the rest of his Scotch and left the glass on the empty table beside him. ‘Go home if you’re not enjoying my stag night. It’d make me happier.’
‘Asshole.’
His head still hazy from a combination of weak alcohol, the claustrophobic club and hopes that refused to be dashed completely, Feng Xin lingered outside on his own with his drink for a few more minutes. If this were any other subject, he would have dismissed Hua Cheng’s “advice” as pure nonsense meant to mock and humiliate him. But his heart was so desperate for any molecule of hope that maybe, just maybe, Mu Qing might see him as more than a pay cheque that it refused to dismiss his words—as cryptic as they were.
Feng Xin finished his drink and left his glass beside Hua Cheng’s on the table, heading back inside.
Mu Qing was nowhere in sight. He wasn’t in the spot they’d been occupying before he went outside, and Feng Xin didn’t see him around the edges of the room. It was harder to tell who was who on the dance floor between the flashing strobe lights, but there was no glossy, silvery-black ponytail swishing in time to the beat. Not that he could imagine Mu Qing dancing to this sort of music anyway—he looked more like a ballet dancer.
He headed to the bar under the guise of buying himself another drink, but Mu Qing wasn’t there either. He wasn’t exactly beyond the realm of possibility that he’d just taken off and fled this awful place. If the tiny dive bar they’d spent the previous night in had been a little out of his comfort zone, a basement club with music so loud it was difficult for anyone to hear themselves think was probably his own personal brand of hell.
Feng Xin had settled himself down to mope in his loneliness for the rest of the evening, preparing to drown his sorrows in weak beer, when something smacked into his right arm and gripped tightly.
His shout of shock and pain was lost in the noise.
Mu Qing glared at him, gripping tight enough for his fingernails to bite into his bicep. He was yelling at Feng Xin, that much was obvious, but he couldn’t hear even a single syllable. Mu Qing was speaking so fast that he couldn’t attempt to lip read either.
After a good minute of them yelling silently at each other, Mu Qing stamped his foot in frustration – which should not have been so adorable – and yanked his phone back out.
I’ve been following you for ages!!!
Oh.
‘Sorry,’ Feng Xin mouthed back. Mu Qing continued to glare at him, the corners of his mouth turned downward. Just going back to standing silently side by side didn’t feel all that appealing. Feng Xin pulled out his phone and texted him.
Feng Xin
(23:52) you dont have to stay if you don’t want to
Mu Qing glanced at his own phone and rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth as though to reply aloud, and then changed his mind. His thumbs flew over his screen to type out a response instead.
“Fu Yao”
(23:52) If I wanted to leave, I would.
(23:52) Don’t think I’d stay here in this grimy basement just to keep you company.
Feng Xin
(23:52) i know
(23:53) im just saying
“Fu Yao”
(23:53) You don’t have to say.
Feng Xin
(23:53) are you actually enjoying yourself
(23:53) nightclubs are even worse when youre sober
“Fu Yao”
(23:54) I’m fine.
(23:54) Are you drunk?
Feng Xin
(23:54) i kinda wish i was
Mu Qing frowned up at him, the question clear on his face. The beer was obviously watered down and Feng Xin wasn’t anywhere near drunk, but he doubted he’d even consider doing what he was about to do if he was stone-cold sober. Still, it would be a hell of a lot easier if he was more drunk than this.
Feng Xin
(23:55) im gonna go home
(23:55) will you come with me
“Fu Yao”
(23:55) Home or Paradise Manor?
Feng Xin
(23:56) the manor
(23:56) it was a figure of speech
“Fu Yao”
(23:56) Sure. It’s not like I’m desperate to stay.
With a touch more alcohol-bravery in his system after downing his almost full glass, Feng Xin took hold of Mu Qing’s hand to keep them from being separated as they made their way to the stairs. Mu Qing’s grip was tight and tense around his fingers. Feng Xin gave him a reassuring squeeze.
Outside, it was like being able to breathe again for the first time in hours. It was also blissfully cool after spending so long in a cramped space full of sweaty bodies. Feng Xin took a deep breath of the crisp night air and sighed on the exhale. ‘I fucking hate nightclubs. I’m gonna be feeling that stupid dance beat in my head for weeks.’
‘Maybe it’ll give you some rhythm,’ Mu Qing quipped.
‘I didn’t even dance. Why d’you think I can’t?’
‘The only people who don’t dance are people who can’t dance.’
‘You didn’t dance either.’
‘That you saw.’ He paused at the side of the deserted road, looking in both directions. ‘I think we’ll struggle to get a taxi. Thursday isn’t exactly your standard night out.’
Feng Xin shrugged. ‘I wanted to walk anyway.’
‘It’s like an hour’s walk back to the manor.’
‘Yeah. I hated it there, but I don’t really want to go back yet either.’ He paused, bracing for rejection. ‘You could walk with me?’ Mu Qing blinked at him. ‘You don’t have to. You can get a taxi. I’ll wait with you so you’re not waiting out here on your own, or you can have my coat-’
‘Idiot. I didn’t say no, did I?’ He marched right past Feng Xin, looking back over his shoulder. ‘Well?’
Feng Xin stumbled over his own toes in his hurry to catch up.
For a while, they walked in companionable silence. It didn’t feel awkward, for once, but it was still strange. There was usually some level of banter between them that complete peace didn’t feel quite right. Even so, Feng Xin didn’t want to speak and destroy it either.
They made it as far as the river, where the moonlight rippled across the water and caught Mu Qing’s black hair, turning it silver against his dark coat. Feng Xin’s heart clenched in a warm, almost suffocating grip in the exact same way it had done for exactly one other person in his life, and he knew it was useless to pretend he wasn’t crushing hard on his escort.
His feet came to a stop of their own accord in the middle of the stone bridge.
Mu Qing noticed and turned. ‘What?’
Feng Xin opened his mouth, closed it again, and sighed. ‘I have no idea how to say any of this.’
Folding his arms, Mu Qing turned to face him and waited. He was close enough to touch. Close enough to draw into an embrace, where Feng Xin could hold him safely against his chest and savour the steady beat of his heart. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets instead to prevent them from doing any such thing and looked out across the river. The moon was full in a clear sky, its reflection dazzling on the water but still easier to look at than Mu Qing.
‘When I asked you to spend these two weeks behaving like you would normally in any long-term relationship…did you know what I meant?’
‘…What do you mean?’ Mu Qing asked coolly.
‘I’m asking if you’ve ever been in one before. A real one. Because…well. Because.’
Mu Qing went very still. His eyes were downcast when Feng Xin risked a glance at him, long eyelashes casting soft shadows across snowy cheekbones. ‘…If you have an issue with my services, you can take it up with the agency-’
‘Oh, my- No. No, Mu Qing, I’m not complaining. You didn’t do anything wrong.’
Black eyes flicked up to meet his gaze. ‘Then why are you asking?’
‘…Because… Because if you haven’t…’ Feng Xin clawed a hand into his hair and bit back a growl of frustration. Everything he wanted to say sounded stupid and pathetic even in his own head. ‘Just- At the beginning, you said you were behaving like yourself. Was that true?’
‘Somewhat.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means you pissed me off a lot more than I let on, but I kept it to myself in front of your friends. If I was behaving normally, you’d have known about it.’
That stung, but he supposed it was fair. After all, Feng Xin had called him annoying in the middle of shower sex. ‘Alright. But in private…?’
‘I made sure you knew about it.’
‘So that was you? When we were alone, that wasn’t an act?’
Mu Qing shuffled his feet and averted his gaze, fingernails pulling at his sleeves. ‘Is there a point to this?’
‘Yeah. Yes. But I don’t know how to say it.’
‘Just say it. You’re starting to annoy me.’
‘I don’t want to pay you.’
It was, perhaps, the absolute worst way he could have said it. Mu Qing blinked slowly, eyebrows starting to climb upwards, looking close to scandalised at such audacity.
‘Because-! Because I want to give you more than that. I want to take you out to dinner, or for coffee, or—anything you want, but I want to do it because you want it. Because my company is worth your time, because you want to be with me and let me dote on you and be gentle with you without it being part of your job, but I realise how stupid and worthless all of that is if you don’t want anything to do with me beyond my bank details.’
Mu Qing stared at him, frozen to the spot, unblinking.
‘I guess I’m trying to ask you out. Dinner, coffee, anything, I don’t mind. Whatever you want. After the wedding, I mean. When our contract ends. And I will pay you for these last two weeks, because you were working, and-’
‘Shut the fuck up for a second.’ Mu Qing turned away to face the river, rubbing a hand across his eyes.
‘…Okay.’
It was a long, painful moment of silence. Feng Xin’s heart was thumping itself into pieces, dread pooling low in his stomach like lead.
After what felt like hours, Mu Qing sighed. ‘You realise I’d make a terrible boyfriend, right? I can act the part well enough, but I don’t know what it entails outside of social settings. I know what looks good to everyone else. I don’t know how to be good to you.’
Feng Xin laughed, the sound bubbling out of him that was either nerves or relief. Or both. ‘If you want it, I don’t care how unpractised you are.’
‘I didn’t say I wanted it.’
‘Mu Qing-’
‘Did you hear a word of what I just said?’
‘I don’t care. I’m barely six months out of a divorce. You think I have any idea what I’m doing?’
‘Stellar job convincing me.’
He grimaced. ‘Look, I married the first person I ever dated. This is new to me too. We can learn as we go.’
Despite his almost-reciprocation, Mu Qing’s expression had remained on the haughty side of neutral. Now, as he glanced over out of the corner of his eye, a wavering uncertainty began to appear. ‘…What if it doesn’t work?’ he asked in the smallest voice Feng Xin had ever heard him use.
‘If it doesn’t work, and we’ve exhausted all our options trying to make it work, then… Then it just doesn’t work. Sometimes it doesn’t. But I want to try. I want to try and make you happy. If you want to let me.’
He didn’t answer for another long moment. Then he suddenly took a breath and lifted his head high, tossing his hair over his shoulder. ‘I have three conditions.’
‘Name them.’
‘I won’t give up my job just because you ask me to.’
‘I would never ask you to.’
‘Good.’ Mu Qing cracked a smile. ‘It’s just a desk job. I gave up escorting years ago.’
Feng Xin looked blankly at him. ‘...But-?’
‘You didn’t think three thousand was normal for an intimate night, did you?’
‘Do I look like a seasoned expert? Don’t answer that,’ he added quickly as Mu Qing started to look him up and down, like he was seriously considering it.
‘I’m one of the coordinators for the agency now. None of our escorts could fulfil your request, so I said I’d do it.’
He felt a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘You did this just for me?’
‘Yeah, well, you sounded so pathetic on the phone.’
And just like that, the grin fell right off his face. ‘What are the other conditions?’
‘I’m not helping you explain any of this to Xie Lian. Or Hua Cheng.’
Feng Xin winced. ‘You’ll still be there, right?’
‘Nope.’
‘...Fine. And?’
His smug grin faded to a small, fragile smile. ‘And you have to ask Cuo Cuo’s permission first.’
‘Of course. I’m not worried about that. He loved you.’
‘Then…we can try.’
As much as he wanted to grab him and haul him into the tightest hug his arms were capable of, he restrained himself. Wrapping an arm around his waist, Feng Xin pulled him into a soft, gentle embrace. Fingers brushing his soft coat and disappearing into silky hair, he breathed in Mu Qing’s soothing lavender scent. Mu Qing was slow to return the embrace, hands creeping up around his shoulders to wrap tightly around his neck.
‘Hey…’ Feng Xin whispered into glossy hair.
‘Mn?’
‘…Think you can let me off that three thousand?’
Mu Qing broke into giggles in his arms, and it was the most glorious sound to ever grace Feng Xin’s ears. He held him even tighter. ‘Hm. I’ll have to think about it.’
‘Come on. You started it.’
‘I most definitely did not start anything.’
‘You most definitely continued it.’
‘Not my fault you couldn’t keep your hands off me.’
Feng Xin tried to pout, but his mouth wouldn’t stop smiling. ‘You’re a bully.’
‘You like this bully.’
‘Mn. Yeah. I do.’