Chapter 41

The moment those forty bucks went through the turn, Qi Yang felt a twinge of regret.

Too childish. It was like getting into a petty squabble with an elementary school kid.

Besides, Mu Yicong had already brought up the movie thing before. Back then, Qi Yang had to take Qi Xing to the doctor, and they’d agreed to go after they got back.

Mu Yicong didn’t reply again. He also didn’t take the money.

Was he upset?

Qi Yang waited for a while, then lifted his arm and draped it over his forehead, staring blankly at the ceiling. A strange tightness lodged in his throat.

But that feeling didn’t last long, because the next day, Mu Yicong came straight to drag him off.

Qi Yang was in the middle of inspecting a customer’s returned car. He’d just logged it into inventory and hadn’t even gotten out yet when Little Liu ran over and tapped on the window, saying someone was looking for him.

“Who?” Qi Yang asked.

“M&K’s guy,” Little Liu said. “The one who came last time.”

Qi Yang’s first thought was Mu Yicong. But knowing Mu Yicong’s temperament, when he was in a mood, he turned into a stubborn mule. Back in high school, whenever Mu Yicong was annoyed, he’d go out of his way to avoid even walking past Qi Yang’s teaching building.

So it must be Ren Wei.

Having reached that conclusion, Qi Yang leisurely finished up what he was doing, washed his hands, and headed back to the office.

When he pushed open the door and saw Mu Yicong sitting in his chair, Qi Yang froze for a second.

“Done with work?” Mu Yicong crossed his legs elegantly, eyeing the spreadsheet still open on Qi Yang’s monitor.

The tightness in his throat from last night suddenly dissolved. Qi Yang’s mood inexplicably lifted.

He first poured himself a glass of water, drank it down, then walked over to the desk. One hand braced on the table as he slammed the notebook shut with the other.

“Is this your seat?” he stared at Mu Yicong.

“Business looks good,” Mu Yicong raised his eyelids to examine him. “In a good mood too.”

“How can you tell?” Qi Yang tilted his neck.

“Because you’re willing to talk to me properly now.” Mu Yicong sat up straight, his gaze sweeping over Qi Yang’s features.

The desk wasn’t wide. Qi Yang was leaning forward, and if Mu Yicong lifted his head any higher, their faces would be too close.

Qi Yang pulled back his hand. He didn’t kick him out, just sat down across from Mu Yicong, fished out his cigarette pack, and lit one.

“What’s the sudden visit for?” he asked again.

Mu Yicong didn’t answer. He tapped on his phone, then slid it across to Qi Yang.

The screen showed a receipt for movie ticket purchases.

Two seats side by side. A showing forty minutes from now.

Qi Yang’s feelings were complicated.

If he didn’t go—well, he had promised Mu Yicong before.

If he did go—that would mean letting himself be led around by the nose.

“Did you ask me about it?” he racked his brain, settling for a verbal jab. “What if I actually had plans?”

“Cancel them.” Mu Yicong’s tone was relaxed, his attitude direct. “That person’s not right for you.”

“Who?” Qi Yang smirked, amused by his arrogance. Was he bothered about Su Jia?

Mu Yicong answered with a look: You figure it out.

Qi Yang didn’t want to badmouth a girl behind her back, nor did he feel like explaining.

He calculated the time—it was just about quitting. He grabbed his phone and stood up. “Let’s go.”

Mu Yicong had just picked a random old movie that was being re-screened. But the cinema location seemed carefully chosen—a mall not far from Che Li.

Qi Yang didn’t take his own car. He planned to come back for it after the movie, maybe pick up a rideshare passenger on the way home.

On the way there, they were as quiet as usual. But once they got to the cinema, seeing that the waiting area was packed with couples, Qi Yang glanced at Mu Yicong beside him. That subtle, weird feeling crept up again.

“You want a drink?” he asked proactively.

Mu Yicong was getting the tickets from the self-service kiosk. Hearing this, he casually tapped the combo snack set.

“No,” Qi Yang canceled it. “I was going to treat you to a movie. You bought the tickets, so I’ll get the snacks.”

“Treating me like Qi Xing?” Mu Yicong wasn’t interested. “Save it for the next meal you owe me.”

Qi Xing had actually never seen a movie in a theater.

Qi Yang looked over at the couple at the counter buying popcorn for their kid, a flicker of melancholy passing through him.

The last time he’d watched a movie was back in high school too—he’d seen an animated film with Liu Dameng.

They checked in and entered. The deep, long hallway’s sound-absorbing carpet muffled the outside noise. Qi Yang listened to movie dialogues leaking from behind the hall doors as he matched the ticket number and pushed open the corresponding door.

When he saw the layout of this theater, he paused mid-step.

The screen was huge, the room spacious, but there were very few seats.

And they were all grouped as sofa sets, each set spaced far apart.

“What hall is this?” he whispered to Mu Yicong as they sat down in the last row.

“Hall F,” Mu Yicong said.

The pitch-black theater was lit only by the light from the screen advertisements. The sofas had no armrests between them; even a slight movement would brush their arms together.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Qi Yang looked at the silhouette of Mu Yicong’s profile carved by the light and shadows, keeping his voice low.

The movie started. Without turning his head, Mu Yicong softly reminded him: “Shh.”

The discomfort of being too close gradually faded from Qi Yang’s mind as the plot unfolded.

It had been far too long since he’d had time like this to completely relax.

For the past ten years, his life had been almost entirely a straight line between two points: work to make money, then go home and take care of the kid. Holidays were almost always spent taking Qi Xing to appointments or classes.

When the movie showed the happy times of the two protagonists falling in love, traveling everywhere together, he suddenly felt like he was watching another world.

But the couple sitting in front of them suddenly leaned their heads together and started kissing. Qi Yang was yanked back to reality. Awkwardly, he crossed one leg over the other.

His knee brushed against Mu Yicong. Qi Yang felt the other man’s gaze land on him.

“This movie’s pretty average,” Qi Yang cleared his throat softly.

He didn’t turn to meet his eyes, but he caught the slight curl of Mu Yicong’s lips in his peripheral vision.

The end credits rolled up, and the house lights came on.

Audience members filed out in twos and threes. Qi Yang stretched lazily, and in silent agreement, he and Mu Yicong didn’t crowd the stairs, waiting until most people had left before getting up.

Just as they were about to reach the hall door, Mu Yicong suddenly asked Qi Yang: “That day you asked me to see a movie—what was it?”

The word “asked” felt a bit too much.

Qi Yang thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I forgot long ago.”

When they got to the parking lot, he said goodbye to Mu Yicong and prepared to walk back to Che Li.

“Hold on.” Mu Yicong pulled out his phone to take a call.

He just gave a single “Mm” into the phone, then briefly instructed: “Parking lot. Near the intersection. There’s a spot.”

Qi Yang leaned against the hood of his car, smoking, the cigarette held between his lips. He looked at Mu Yicong: “What’s up?”

“Letting you meet someone.” Mu Yicong hung up and slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket.

A flashy purple Ferrari pulled up with a roar. It executed a perfect stop, sliding into the space next to them.

Qi Yang eyed it, his professional instincts kicking in as he mentally calculated what price range this car would be if it were at Che Li.

“Brother!”

The boy who got out of the car shouted at Mu Yicong, cutting off all of Qi Yang’s thoughts.

“What’s this all about, making me come all the way to deliver something?” The boy looked just barely past twenty—tall, with long legs, delicate and handsome features. He hauled a massive gift bag from the passenger seat, peeking inside as he muttered and shuffled toward Mu Yicong.

Qi Yang recognized that brash voice immediately.

It was the male voice beside Mu Yicong that night when he’d been on the phone.

The suffocating feeling that had settled in his chest back in the office that afternoon now climbed back up like a ghost shadow.

So he was supposed to wait here and watch them go on a date?

What the hell was wrong with Mu Yicong?

“What are you doing here?” The boy set the gift bag on the hood of the Bentley, looked at Mu Yicong, then squinted at Qi Yang. “Brother, is he your friend?”

“Yeah. Qi Yang.” Mu Yicong glanced at the bag, then introduced him. “Li Jiajia, my cousin on my mother’s side.”

“Li Jiayi!” The boy protested, grabbing Mu Yicong’s shoulder. “I changed my name, it’s not Jiajia anymore. So annoying.”

Li Jiajia or Li Jiayi—neither name sank into Qi Yang’s ears.

When he’d heard Mu Yicong say “my cousin,” all that inexplicable surging emotion in him had instantly short-circuited.

“Brother Yang.” Despite his flamboyance, Li Jiayi was more polite than his brother. He proactively greeted Qi Yang. “My name is Li Jiayi, not Li Jiajia.”

Qi Yang slapped the hand the boy offered. The first thought that resurfaced was: There are way too many “Jia” names these past couple of days.

Mu Yicong clearly didn’t care much about this cousin of his. He pushed the gift bag toward Qi Yang, then said to Li Jiayi: “You can go back now.”

“Nothing else for me?” Li Jiayi raised an eyebrow, then nimbly slid back into his car. “Don’t forget the watch you promised me, Brother!”

The Ferrari made a flashy entrance and an equally flashy exit, leaving Qi Yang in silence amidst the expensive roar of its engine.

“That night you called, I was having dinner with him.” Mu Yicong took a step closer. “He came back from overseas for the New Year. He got me to buy him something. He’s been with his family the past few days.”

Qi Yang bit the cigarette in his mouth several times, unsure what expression to make. He could only stiffly reply: “Oh.”

Mu Yicong reached up and pulled the half-smoked cigarette out from between his lips. He stared at him and asked: “Still jealous?”

Whether it was the brief insomnia that night, or the speechlessness he’d felt facing Mu Yicong yesterday, Qi Yang had never actually thought about the underlying real reason.

Now, hearing Mu Yicong’s incredibly natural “jealous,” meeting those dark, deep pupils, he felt as if the blood vessels in his neck had been abruptly pinched, leaving his thoughts somewhat scrambled.

Is that even the right word to use here?

“Have you no shame?” Qi Yang retorted, pretending to find it funny. He randomly rustled the gift bag and discovered there was a box inside. “What’s this? You had him make a special trip for it?”

“A handmade book for Qi Xing. Some materials about her symptoms.” Mu Yicong answered. “Take it back.”

Qi Yang was silent, eyes downcast. It was a long while before he finally spoke: “Thanks.”

Carrying the bag, he returned to Che Li. He put the stuff on the passenger seat, then sat in his car and had another cigarette.

His mood was very hard to describe right now—moved and subtle at the same time. He kept replaying those few sentences of explanation from Mu Yicong, and that “Still jealous?”

It definitely wasn’t jealousy.

Qi Yang told himself.

It was just a bit like that time back then at Mu Yicong’s, when he’d heard Mu Yicong telling Ren Wei to go home first.

He took the gift box out of the bag. Just as he was about to open it, his phone buzzed twice with two incoming messages.

One was from Su Jia: asking when he had time. A friend had opened a new restaurant and needed someone to come and support the place.

The other was from Mu Yicong: That girl from yesterday really wasn’t right for you.

Qi Yang stared at his phone for a moment, spinning it between his fingers twice. The corner of his mouth lifted, pushed up by his mood.

He replied to Mu Yicong: Why.

Mu Yicong: I’m pretty good at reading people.

Qi Yang: How good.

Mu Yicong: Very good.

Qi Yang: Like what for example.

The back-and-forth of meaningless banter paused here. Mu Yicong’s reply popped up again after half a minute.

Mu Yicong: Like the day we met, I already knew you had liked me once too.