Chapter 52
Going home wasn’t a problem.
But they had to settle their debt with the wishing tree temple first.
One million yuan was a substantial amount. Carrying that much cash was risky; they could be mistaken for criminals.
Xie Zhang wasn’t accustomed to large cash transactions. Modern society relied on bank transfers and checks. Cash was… suspicious.
The law-abiding CEO had never dealt with such large sums of cash before.
Song Jingmo, however, well-versed in crime dramas featuring suitcases full of money, had arranged a withdrawal, spending an entire day at the bank.
The temple was too crowded during the day, so they waited until nightfall to discreetly place the suitcase under the offering table.
Song Jingmo, watching as Xie Zhang nervously adjusted the table cloth, giggled.
He squatted beside him, poking his arm, his voice low and amused: “Is this your first time doing something so… shady, Mr. Xie?”
Xie Zhang actually considered this for a moment, then asked: “Does spying on you in the shower count?”
Song Jingmo: “…Let’s leave the crime scene, shall we?”
As they walked towards the parking lot, Song Jingmo noticed the red string on his wrist flicker.
Hm?
At the same time, Xie Zhang received a text message.
【As long as he stays within three steps of you, no one else will see him.】
Song Jingmo, peeking at the message over Xie Zhang’s shoulder, watched as it vanished from the screen, followed by all the information related to the master, including his phone number.
He checked his own phone; it was also gone.
He put his phone away: “I actually feel better this way.”
If it had been a simple transaction, they would have kept the contact information, but neither of them wanted to deal with the master again.
“Mm,” Xie Zhang agreed, opening the car door. “Let’s go.”
…
They’d been discussing their return trip.
Arriving had been easy, with Song Jingmo as a shadow.
Now, things were more complicated.
Plane tickets and IDs were easy enough to obtain, but his lack of a shadow would be difficult to conceal.
And even on a red-eye flight, the airport and the plane would be brightly lit, making his shadowlessness even more noticeable.
Song Jingmo had wished he could be invisible to everyone but Xie Zhang, so he could simply float onto the plane.
He couldn’t float, but being invisible was the next best thing.
Their flight was scheduled for 9 am the next day, arriving in Beijing in the afternoon.
Song Jingmo stayed close to Xie Zhang, who instinctively reached out to hold him, then stopped as Song Jingmo swatted his hand away.
He tried again a few seconds later, with the same result.
Finally, after much jostling and playful bickering, they boarded the plane, then realized the problem.
There were no single seats in business class.
—Xie Zhang had only booked one ticket.
And someone was already sitting next to his seat.
An elderly gentleman, his hair and beard white, was dozing peacefully.
—But Xie Zhang was… two people.
They couldn’t just stand in the aisle. Song Jingmo pushed Xie Zhang into his seat, then, after he’d fastened his seatbelt, without hesitation, sat down on his lap.
Xie Zhang froze.
While he’d… blossomed… public displays of affection were still a challenge for him.
Song Jingmo, having grown accustomed to being invisible, didn’t care.
Empty seats in business class were common, but they were all more than three steps away.
And he couldn’t simply shrink himself and hide, not with someone sitting next to them.
The best, and only, solution was to sit on Xie Zhang.
Fortunately, the business class seats were spacious.
Xie Zhang sat stiffly, his legs together, but Song Jingmo, shifting uncomfortably, adjusted his position, ignoring the elderly gentleman dozing beside them.
He reclined the seat, then pushed Xie Zhang down, his arm resting on the armrest, spreading Xie Zhang’s legs slightly, then settled on top of him.
No, still uncomfortable.
Too hard.
And what if there was turbulence? He might be flung across the cabin, his sudden reappearance causing mass panic.
After careful consideration, he pushed the unresponsive Xie Zhang to the side and settled into the seat, half-sitting, half-leaning against him, then pulled Xie Zhang’s arm around his waist and fastened the seatbelt.
He tucked his legs under Xie Zhang’s, maximizing his… safety and comfort.
Perfect.
Xie Zhang, who had been silently observing him, finally moved.
He selected a movie Song Jingmo would enjoy, then placed one earbud under him, offering it to Song Jingmo.
Song Jingmo took the other earbud.
“I’ve been wanting to see this movie, but… things happened… I didn’t expect it to be available on the flight.”
Xie Zhang was about to reply softly—
“Don’t talk, it’s weird. I’ll talk.”
Song Jingmo, as if anticipating his words, placed a finger on his lips.
“I know what you’re thinking anyway.”
The opening credits rolled.
But Song Jingmo wasn’t paying attention to the movie.
Xie Zhang’s lips curved into a smile, and he kissed his fingertip.
Song Jingmo quickly withdrew his hand, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
The plane leveled out after takeoff, and the cabin lights dimmed.
Clouds drifted past the window, the city fading into the distance.
Xie Zhang’s arm tightened around Song Jingmo, the movie’s soundtrack playing in their ears.
Unlike his earlier apprehension, he now felt a sense of… completeness… his heart and arms filled with love and a quiet joy.
Song Jingmo looked up.
The light from the window illuminated Xie Zhang’s face, and he traced his features with his gaze, lingering on the mole on his Adam’s apple.
He reached out and gently touched the mole, Xie Zhang’s Adam’s apple bobbing in response.
Meeting his gaze, Song Jingmo smiled.
He loved this man, even more than before.
He no longer wanted to simply watch him, imagining his reactions; he wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to act on his every impulse.
The more reserved and controlled Xie Zhang was, the more he wanted to see him lose control.
Like now.
He felt the muscles in Xie Zhang’s abdomen tense beneath him, but he simply snuggled closer, continuing to watch the movie he wasn’t paying attention to.
Xie Zhang’s hand on his waist was warm.
And Song Jingmo felt… safe.
Their love was no longer a fleeting, fragile thing, but a strong, deeply rooted tree, its branches reaching towards the sky.
A tree nurtured by time and devotion.
