Was this man’s hand made of iron? His grip was so strong.
Zhu Ran looked up at Huo Boyan’s hand. The man held a glass but didn’t drink, merely pressing his index finger against the rim and rubbing it slowly.
That posture, that motion—it was as if he wasn’t rubbing the glass, but rather Zhu Ran’s…
Zhu Ran couldn’t utter the curse words on the tip of his tongue.
This was too much.
Zhu Ran recalled the sensation of the man grabbing his ankle under the table earlier, and his cheeks burned again. He raised his chin and downed the rest of the mango sago pomelo in one go.
Song Xingchen returned from the restroom and noticed the restaurant’s atmosphere was a bit off.
Zhu Ran looked unwell, but not angry—more like a family Border Collie that had been bullied, bewildered and at a loss.
As for Huo Boyan across from him, Song Xingchen couldn’t read his emotions, only noticing him rub his fingers as if savoring something.
The atmosphere was awkward, but Song Xingchen was naturally unfazed by awkwardness. He spoke casually, “Why isn’t anyone touching their chopsticks? Am I such a big deal that you’re all waiting for me?”
Zhu Ran shot to his feet. “I’m out.”
“Oh,” Song Xingchen picked up his phone and clasped his hands together toward Huo Boyan in a bow, “Thanks for the treat, Mr. Huo. Wishing you booming business and endless wealth.”
Huo Boyan smiled faintly, like a considerate big brother. “Have fun on Hong Kong Island.”
Zhu Ran said nothing, circling around Huo Boyan toward the exit.
When they left, Huo Boyan didn’t follow, only sending a car to take them back to the hotel. The driver was one of Huo Boyan’s men, so Song Xingchen didn’t dare speak freely and messaged Zhu Ran instead.
[Song Xingchen]: Kiddo, what’s up with you two? The vibe feels off.
[Zhu Ran]: Spit it out.
[Song Xingchen]: Straight talk then! Did you two get together behind my back?
Zhu Ran: “…”
The sedan bumped over a speed bump, and Zhu Ran’s heart jolted with it. Had Song Xingchen figured it out?
He exhaled slowly and typed a deflection: No idea what you’re talking about.
[Song Xingchen]: I must emphasize again, I’m your childhood friend, your best buddy. You can’t ditch me just because he’s loaded!
Zhu Ran: “…”
[Zhu Ran]: Go watch your Chiikawa.
Song Xingchen: ? How’d you know I haven’t finished it??
When they got out of the car, Song Xingchen’s attention was fully on the cartoon, chattering excitedly about hitting up a Hong Kong Island themed store.
They entered the hotel lobby, but Zhu Ran suddenly stopped, turning back thoughtfully.
Song Xingchen: “What’s up?”
The lobby bustled with people, nothing unusual. Zhu Ran shook his head and looked away. “Nothing.”
Song Xingchen shrugged and asked, “Theme store first thing tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
They swiped their cards and entered the elevator. Moments later, a man in black hurried out of the lobby and into an unassuming sedan by the roadside.
“Boss, got it,” the black-clad man said into the phone. “The kid’s name is Zhu Ran, a college student from the mainland. Huo Boyan seems particularly interested in him.”
“Find a chance to meet Zhu Ran. See if he’s useful.”
“Got it. But Huo Boyan’s got people watching him now; it’s hard for us to get close.”
…
Zhu Ran spent five days accompanying Song Xingchen, touring spots he himself hadn’t gotten to visit, covering them all together.
On the last day of the holiday, they went to a private art museum. It was an invitation from his aunt Wang Zhuoying, who said the place wasn’t open to the public but had top-quality exhibits. He could check it out with friends if he had time.
With their final day free, they went together.
The art museum was in the West Kowloon Cultural District, housed in a strikingly modern building known for its unique design and famous architect, drawing tourists for photos.
A private enclave, it had few internal visitors, the space so quiet it exuded a zen-like tranquility. Zhu Ran followed the signs, gradually becoming engrossed.
“Zhu Ran?” A surprised voice rang out. Zhu Ran looked up to see Huo Junlin, dressed unusually in a suit, hair gelled, more formal than ever.
Zhu Ran nodded in greeting. “You guys back early?”
“Yeah, it rained nonstop after you left; nothing much to do.” Huo Junlin glanced at Song Xingchen beside him but didn’t greet him, asking Zhu Ran instead, “Leg feeling better?”
“Your leg’s hurt?” Song Xingchen puzzled, reaching to lift Zhu Ran’s pant leg. “Where? How’d I miss it? You’ve walked so much these days—no issues?”
Huo Junlin eyed Song Xingchen but held back.
Zhu Ran shook his head. “Just a bump. Healed ages ago.”
Before Song Xingchen could respond, Huo Junlin cut in. “Good to hear. I’ve been worried about you.”
Song Xingchen looked up, finding the guy odd, like he harbored hostility. But since he was Zhu Ran’s acquaintance, Song Xingchen said nothing.
Zhu Ran and Song Xingchen continued viewing the exhibits, with Huo Junlin trailing at a distance. His stalking was obvious, but whenever Zhu Ran turned, he’d pretend to study a blank wall busily.
Zhu Ran: “…”
He’d planned to ignore it, but midway, Song Xingchen stepped out for a call, leaving Zhu Ran alone. Huo Junlin sidled up immediately, pointedly saying, “You stared at that Antinous Sculpture for a while.”
Zhu Ran turned to leave.
Huo Junlin’s body moved faster than his brain, grabbing Zhu Ran’s wrist.
