Chapter 35

Ren Wei was probably thrown off by Qi Yang’s shameless “Tell him to come over.” He watched helplessly as Qi Yang closed the door and left, sitting frozen in the meeting room for ages.

After calming down a bit, he let out a long breath, pulled out his phone, and hesitated for a long time, a complicated tangle of emotions welling up inside.

Back in school, Ren Wei had never liked Qi Yang.

It wasn’t dislike rooted in hatred, but rather that subtle inferiority complex of adolescence.

Young Ren Wei hadn’t had many hobbies. His favorite pastime? Taking all kinds of personality tests.

From zodiac sign analysis, to fortune-telling with the Eight Characters plastered all over sketchy websites, to the later trend of four-letter personality tests.

He’d sink into these studies during his free time, constantly categorizing himself, actively stamping himself with various labels, searching for a reasonable explanation for the inferiority and sensitivity ingrained in his bones.

He told himself that no two leaves were alike, that no two people were ever completely the same—that Ren Wei, too, was unique.

But no matter how much he tried to convince himself, whenever he was around someone completely different from him, that sticky, shrinking feeling of wanting to retreat would bubble up, following him like a shadow.

He disliked people who were too flashy or had too much personality. He couldn’t understand why some people seemed born without fear. They were all the same age, yet some people just shone in a crowd, attracting everyone’s attention without even trying.

The moment he first saw Qi Yang and Mu Yicong at the Affiliated High School, Ren Wei felt that way.

If, as parents and teachers claimed, academic results were the only standard to judge a student’s worth—setting aside looks, height, family background, and all that—then Mu Yicong fit that standard just fine.

But how could you explain Qi Yang?

Ren Wei had once really wanted to hang out with Qi Yang. Knowing he couldn’t match that natural superiority in appearance, he studied hard, ran for class monitor, and instinctively sucked up to the teachers while trying to win over his classmates.

But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t break into that circle.

On the first day of school, he took the initiative to greet them and got mocked by Cui Wu.

He offered to carry Qi Yang’s backpack when Qi Yang had a foot injury, hoping to catch a ride in their car—and Liu Dameng shouted in front of the whole class that he was just trying to take advantage.

Those careless jabs stuck in his heart like thorns.

And the sharp end of it all? He somehow ignored everyone else’s taunts and just felt an inexplicable fear toward Qi Yang himself.

Even though Qi Yang had never actually done anything to him.

So when Ren Wei later ended up in the same class as Mu Yicong, he practically warned Mu Yicong with caution: stay away from Qi Yang.

When he found out Qi Yang’s family had fallen on hard times, he even felt a secret satisfaction.

That satisfaction peaked the day he ran into Qi Yang again ten years later.

So what if Qi Yang had been the most arrogant guy in school back then? Now he was just an ordinary person, so ordinary he had to drive a ride-hailing car after work to make a living, had to obediently drive Ren Wei to his destination and tell him to take his stuff and thank you for riding.

So ordinary that Mu Yicong could help Ren Wei land a job at M&K, but never even thought to help Qi Yang.

So ordinary that now Qi Yang had to serve him as Party B.

That was how it should be.

That was how it was supposed to be.

But why, even after falling this far, could Qi Yang still talk to Ren Wei like he was ordering him around?

And “tell him to come over”?

Where the hell did this Qi Yang get his sense of superiority?

Ren Wei spent a full five minutes sorting through his feelings, and the more he sorted, the more aggrieved he became.

After weighing things in his head for a while, he squared his neck, stood up, and went to find Qi Yang.

Qi Yang was in the office, smoking and continuing his unfinished work.

Hearing the knock, he didn’t even look up from his computer as he replied, “Come in.”

“Yangzi.” Ren Wei walked in with a fake smile, then changed his address, sitting down across from the office desk.

Qi Yang glanced at him, grabbed a bottle of water, and tossed it over.

“Yicong really does have something going on. I asked him—he can’t make it right now.” Ren Wei caught the water, set it on the desk, and pulled out the contract. “If you’ve got any issues, just tell me directly. I’ll pass it on to the company. We’re old classmates, so I’ll try my best to get you the best deal.”

Qi Yang didn’t even listen to the second half of his spiel.

He stared at Ren Wei and asked, “He said he can’t come right now?”

“Really busy.” Ren Wei put on a troubled expression, vague and ambiguous. “I’m just working for Yicong, no reason to lie to you, right?”

Qi Yang didn’t waste a single word on him. He grabbed his own phone and dialed Mu Yicong directly.

Ren Wei opened his mouth as if to say something, but hearing the faint ringtone from Qi Yang’s phone, he shut it again.

Mu Yicong did take a moment to answer the call, and his voice was fairly low. He asked Qi Yang, “What’s up?”

“Come over here,” Qi Yang said without beating around the bush. “I’m only negotiating this contract with you.”

“I’m in a meeting,” Mu Yicong said.

“Then forget it.” Qi Yang said.

After a few seconds, Mu Yicong relented: “Give me half an hour.”

Hanging up, Qi Yang spun his phone a couple of times and stared at Ren Wei.

Ren Wei’s eyes darted around everywhere, his expression sour. He looked away and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

There really wasn’t much to negotiate about the contract with M&K. Mu Yicong had already given instructions to his subordinates beforehand, offering Che Li the highest market rate for the rent.

When he arrived, he exchanged a look with Qi Yang, then directly told Ren Wei to open the contract and signed it.

The first cooperation between Che Li and M&K was settled just like that.

“Yicong,” Ren Wei said with an ingratiating smile, trying to explain, “Qi Yang, he—”

“Go back to work.” Mu Yicong cut him off.

Ren Wei froze for a moment, looked at Mu Yicong, then at Qi Yang, who was pretending to study the contract, and finally caught on: “Ah, you’ve got more to discuss, right? Then should I wait for you?”

“No need.” Mu Yicong capped his pen with a crisp click.

Once only the two of them were left in the office, Qi Yang put away the contract and looked back at Mu Yicong.

“What do you want to talk to me about?” Mu Yicong didn’t leave, knowing that Qi Yang hadn’t just called him over for the contract. He sat down steadily.

“Let’s grab a meal.” Qi Yang pulled out his phone to book a restaurant. “Japanese food work for you?”

“Not hungry.” Mu Yicong looked at him.

“I am.” Qi Yang didn’t care what he said.

With the big deal signed, there wasn’t much left at the shop that needed Qi Yang’s supervision. He gave Little Liu a quick rundown, then left to drive.

Mu Yicong had also driven over. He stood in the parking lot for a moment, thinking, then unhurriedly got into Qi Yang’s car.

Qi Yang had originally planned to find a quiet place, get a private room, and calmly talk things through with Mu Yicong.

But just seeing him was enough to make all those tangled emotions burst out uncontrollably.

“What you said that day—I understood.” As soon as the car hit the road, Qi Yang couldn’t help speaking up.

Mu Yicong didn’t respond.

“I know you meant well,” Qi Yang glanced at him, “but your good intentions don’t hold up.”

Of course they couldn’t hold up.

Liu Dameng’s answer had given Qi Yang a lot to think about. He put himself and Mu Yicong in that scenario, and sure enough, his own cautious refusal came off as both cheap and objectifying.

In Mu Yicong’s words, it was pathetic.

“The thing is, your good intentions aren’t exactly pure either,” Qi Yang said.

Mu Yicong’s calm composure, which he’d maintained since stepping into Che Li, shifted a little.

He looked over at Qi Yang, and Qi Yang met his gaze, the corners of his eyes and brows carrying that familiar challenge.

“You did help me contact the expert, sure, gave yourself the credit for being the good guy. But you also pulled some shameless moves.”

Qi Yang said.

“If it were me, think about it. I do you a favor, then start spouting all kinds of inappropriate nonsense, force a kiss on you like some creep—how could you not overthink it?”

“You pull a stunt like that, then turn around and act all high and mighty, saying I’m degrading myself.”

“You’ve taken both sides, Mu Yicong. Are you trying to fool a kid?”

Being able to sort out his feelings and say them straight to Mu Yicong—it felt really good.

So good that Qi Yang wasn’t even angry when he said it. Instead, he felt a wave of refreshment.

Mu Yicong finally dropped the cold demeanor he’d kept these past few days. Far from being offended by Qi Yang’s accusations, he actually gave Qi Yang that interested look again.

“I only want to ask you one thing now.” Qi Yang stepped on the gas to beat the red light at the intersection, already able to see the Japanese restaurant’s sign ahead.

Mu Yicong hummed in acknowledgment. “Go ahead.”

“Do you still like me?” Qi Yang tapped the brakes, turned his head, and stared straight at Mu Yicong, asking.

It was just the fifth day of the Lunar New Year. Most shops were open, but there weren’t many customers eating out.

When the host at the Japanese restaurant saw customers coming, they immediately came over to help park the car and led the two into the reserved private room.

Qi Yang couldn’t be bothered to go through any polite back-and-forth with Mu Yicong. He just picked out a couple set meal and had the server close the door on the way out.

Then he lit a cigarette and kept grilling Mu Yicong: “I’m asking you.”

Mu Yicong could smoke, but he was restrained about it. He’d never done it in front of Qi Yang before.

Now he glanced at Qi Yang’s cigarette pack, dragged a long finger across it, and took one out to light it too.

“Maybe.” That was Mu Yicong’s answer.

Qi Yang stared at him for a long moment, his heart suddenly pounding. He leaned back, bracing his arms on the chair.

He’d been fixated on this answer because of what Liu Dameng had said—Qi Yang had to know for sure: was Mu Yicong acting out of genuine liking, or was he just messing around for fun?

And this bastard actually dared to answer.

“Then what did you mean by saying you ‘liked’ me before?” he couldn’t help pressing.

“Ten years, Qi Yang.” This time Mu Yicong’s tone finally carried the normal questioning of a reunion after so long. “No one knows if the other has changed.”

Qi Yang fell silent again.

When he stopped talking, Mu Yicong started the counter-question.

“Why ask this?” He studied Qi Yang. “Does it matter that much to you?”

“Ah.” Qi Yang snapped back to attention and tapped off some ash. “Once I know, at least I can figure out what you’re really thinking.”

“And then?” Mu Yicong pressed. “Now that you know I still like you, what can you do?”

Qi Yang really didn’t know.

He’d always identified himself as straight. Not being repulsed by homosexuality was one thing, but having it actually happen to him? He couldn’t really put his finger on how he felt.

Disgust?

It wasn’t that bad, actually.

But recalling the feeling of being pinned against the wall by Mu Yicong in high school, and the rough numb sensation on his lips from that night, Qi Yang felt a weird stir inside.

“I can’t do anything,” he told Mu Yicong seriously. “Think whatever you want. I appreciate the help, but I still say I’m not gay.”

Mu Yicong laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Qi Yang was annoyed by his inscrutable expression.

“I’ll say it again too.” Mu Yicong didn’t use the ashtray on his own side; instead, he reached over and lightly tapped his ash into the one next to Qi Yang. “You don’t know yourself as well as you think.”

The private room’s sliding door was gently pushed open, and a server in a kimono knelt down to serve the dishes.

Qi Yang didn’t want to talk about this in front of an outsider. He narrowed his eyes and stubbed out his cigarette.

“Let’s find time to watch that movie,” Mu Yicong said on his own. “You owe me one.”