Chapter 51: Two-Faced Phoenix Man 10

To be precise, Jiang Rang had plenty of romantic experience, but none of it had ever been particularly serious.

The young man had matured early. Even as a teenager, he possessed a gentle, beautiful, and refined air, with exquisite features and a temperament as soft and flowing as a babbling brook.

He was also skilled at putting on a show. Despite his impoverished family background and lack of any fancy clothes or accessories, his suitors had started pouring in from middle school onward, and they only multiplied over time.

Jiang Rang had never been a particularly well-behaved kid. In private, he was an expert at smoking, drinking, and every other vice under the sun.

Dating was no exception, of course.

Unlike the aimless street punks around him, though, the young man always knew when to rein himself in.

Perhaps it stemmed from the image he cultivated, but Jiang Rang harbored a powerful, underlying urge to dominate. He permitted himself to cut loose and dive into every new thrill, but only on the condition that he remained fully in control of his playthings. To him, they were nothing more than distractions for idle moments—he would never let himself drown in them or squander his ambitions on trifles.

“Love,” in particular, held no appeal. All the young man had ever learned about it from his parents in this world was bitter resentment.

They had once defied all odds for the sake of love, only to end up huddled in their rundown little room, flinging the most venomous barbs at each other’s former virtues and present flaws.

The line Jiang Rang heard most often was, “If it weren’t for you, I would’ve married him or her ages ago and lived a life of luxury.”

That was inevitably followed by the thunderous crash of pots and pans shattering everywhere.

The impassive teenage bystander always pondered the same thing: so money and love—or marriage—were one and the same.

In truth, money stood above them all, powerful enough to grind even the noblest emotions into the dirt.

Jiang Rang had watched plenty of his punk friends stumble through relationships and picked up his share of lessons in the process.

So when everyone assumed the boy would buckle down with his studies—or maybe sweep the stunning school beauty or heartthrob off their feet—he shocked them all by setting his sights on a thoroughly ordinary classmate, the kind of guy who left no impression whatsoever.

Jiang Rang’s first love, whom he pursued with dogged determination, was a shy, soft-spoken boy from his class who always kept his head down.

The guy’s looks were utterly unremarkable, save for a pair of ocean-blue eyes that shimmered just prettily enough to notice. His one real standout quality? He was rich. Filthy rich.

Word had it his parents were perpetually absent, leaving him starved for affection and painfully sensitive as a result.

Back then, Jiang Rang had poured real effort into winning him over. After all, not everyone was gay, and not everyone fell for his pretty-boy facade.

The teenage boy understood the concept of investment.

Poverty hadn’t turned him into a miser—partly because Zhou Yichun’s pocket money had all been funneled his way at the time.

With that modest allowance in hand, the young Jiang Rang splurged on flowers and snacks. When he learned the other boy loved to draw, he even tracked down some high-quality art supplies and brushes to gift him.

Teenage romance is hazy yet burns with intense passion, and Jiang Rang played his part to perfection: innocent, pure-hearted, utterly devoted.

He walked the boy home every single day without fail. At every parting, he would stammer out a blushing confession. The real spark probably ignited one lazy afternoon when their lips brushed by accident, tasting of strawberry bubblegum.

No one could resist a boy like that—lips rosy, teeth pearly white, drowning in the sweet nectar of young love.

And just like that, Jiang Rang had sweet-talked and charmed his way into the boy’s heart.

The teenage Jiang Rang was nowhere near as steady or calculating as he was now. He was impatient, and it showed: mere days into the relationship, he began obliquely wheedling for cash.

Fortunately, the other boy seemed utterly bewitched by this thing called “love.” Shy and desperate for affection, he handed over whatever Jiang Rang asked for, obedient as could be.

Those were the days when Jiang Rang lived like a god among men.

For a high schooler, thousands of dollars flowing in bit by bit added up to a small fortune.

But you can’t force attraction, and Jiang Rang had never truly been drawn to the boy’s timid personality or bland features.

Restless under the strain, the young man inexplicably accepted advances from another soft-featured boy who caught his eye.

Fate, however, had other plans. The first boy walked in on them red-handed.

Even now, Jiang Rang occasionally recalled the scene and felt a chill run down his spine.

That meek, quiet pushover erupted in a way no one saw coming. He nearly clawed the intruder’s face to shreds.

Then he scrambled onto the windowsill, his tear-streaked face flushed crimson, snarling threats to jump.

The scandal exploded. Jiang Rang’s parents were summoned to the school for a talking-to.

That was the time the teenage Jiang Rang got thrashed until he was hopping mad, cheeks burning with humiliation.

To the bitter end, though, the boy’s parents never showed up. A couple of days later, he transferred out.

No one ever learned where he went.

After that incident, Jiang Rang became much more cautious about “dating” again.

He no longer dared to provoke those excessively clingy types, since if he just wanted to have some fun, there was really no need to bring trouble upon himself.

By that reckoning, the young man’s romantic history could be considered quite rich.

And precisely because of his experience, Jiang Rang got along with Lu Xiang in a harmony so seamless that it almost gave people the illusion they were “a match made in heaven.”

The young man was someone who greatly appreciated life’s little pleasures and surprises. Every three days they were together, he would give a commemorative gift; every month, he would send a “first month” anniversary present.

Though none of them were particularly expensive, they were full of thoughtfulness, evoking a profound sense of being cherished and valued.

Of course, in general, the return gifts that Jiang Rang received were even more lavish.

Recently, Lu Xiang’s birthday was approaching. Since the Crown Prince wasn’t in Huajing and didn’t want to go back, he decided to hold a celebration in S City.

The young man had arranged to meet the other man on the night before his birthday.

S City’s nights were incredibly vibrant, with lights glowing everywhere. The dazzling, multicolored illumination of the central district made the surroundings as bright as daytime.

It was nearly December, and the temperature had plummeted sharply. The young man, dressed in a black windbreaker, stood tall and striking at the entrance of the bustling mall.

A faint flush colored his cheeks, and a deep red scarf wrapped around his neck accentuated his flawlessly smooth, milky-white skin. He seemed to have been chilled by the night wind, his slightly upturned nose tip glowing with a fine, candle-flame-like hue. In the instant a car’s headlights swept over him, it evoked the pinkish luster of dawn-tinted pearls.

He was very beautiful, but not in the superficial, worldly sense of mere physical attractiveness. Rather, it was because it was him—every smile, every gesture, every expression became enchantingly extraordinary.

That was the scene Lu Xiang saw when he got out of the car.

They had clearly agreed to meet inside the mall, yet the young man insisted on waiting at the conspicuous entrance, as if he couldn’t wait for him to spot him at first glance.

The man couldn’t help but curve his lips, feeling as if something in his chest had crushed a sweet, juicy fruit, the sudden burst of honeyed nectar softening the sharp edges of his brows and eyes.

The mall was crowded in the evening, even in the exclusive area screened for the wealthy, where it still felt quite congested.

Lu Xiang had rarely visited places like malls before. As the sole heir of the Lu Family, everything around him wasn’t custom-made by renowned masters? Why would he lower himself to shop in a mall?

But he couldn’t resist Jiang Rang’s fondness for them.

The young man always loved lively, warm spots. Once, with a smile playing on his lips, he had held the man’s hand, his sidelong gaze as gentle as water.

He had said, “Lu Xiang, good A-Xiang, don’t you think a casual stroll like this has that wonderful, everyday charm of life?”

At the time, the man had felt fireworks exploding in his mind in an instant—what could he say to refute or refuse?

Lu Xiang slowly exhaled, tempted for once to tease his earnestly waiting lover. But just as he was about to approach, he saw a strange young man draw near Jiang Rang.

The stranger’s face was flushed as if steaming with heat, his hands clenched tightly, like the shy mimosa that folds upon accidental touch.

“Y-You, hello,” the young man stammered, looking at the bewildered Jiang Rang. “I saw you here alone and thought… I’d like to get to know you. No, I mean, sir, could we add each other on WeChat?”

His voice grew quieter and quieter, his face redder and redder.

The man, standing a short distance away, suddenly halted. The piercing cold wind lifted the dark hair curling slightly at his cheek, revealing the tear-like moles beneath his eyes.

Lu Xiang had actually harbored suspicions before—who wouldn’t? Their three months together had been too perfect, too flawless, like a dream woven of moonlit illusions and mirrored flowers.

Even as time wore on, a hesitant, wrenching ache would occasionally stir in Lu Xiang’s heart.

He feared—he dreaded—that those gentle brows would one day turn cold toward him, that those beautiful lips would utter words that pierced his soul.

The man had even dreamed such dreams more than once.

In them, the young man remained as clear and stunningly beautiful as ever, always gazing at him with a smile. But those downcast, tender black eyes would turn into a winter-frozen lake, inch by inch growing icy.

He would ask coldly, “Lu Xiang, did you really think I’d ever like you? I only submitted because I had no choice—you actually took it seriously?”

Sometimes, those cold, moonlit eyes would waver faintly, revealing a heartbreaking sorrow. He would stare at him intently, whimpering softly, “Lu Xiang, between us, it was just your little joke of a bet… Let me go.”

The sting in his palm grew ever more pronounced. The burning sensation from his frozen earlobes seemed to ferment into another agony, one that stabbed straight into his heart. Lu Xiang’s brows and eyes drooped slightly, yet his feet remained rooted to the spot—he couldn’t take a single step.

Fine snow began to drift down from the sky. The crowd stretched on endlessly amid the distant wind and snow, and in his daze, a timid urge to flee welled up in him—one that shut out all sound and sight.

From love arises sorrow; from love arises fear.

Who could have imagined that the Lu Family Eldest Young Master—so unrestrained and unbound—would one day stand so pathetically off to the side, watching his lover get hit on?

“Sorry, I have a boyfriend, and he’s already here.”

The clear, gentle voice flowed like warm water, pouring into the man’s raw throat and chest. It held no scorch, only a tenderness that nearly brought tears to his eyes.

A pair of cool-yet-warm hands clasped his fingers. Jiang Rang waved in front of him with a smile, his flushed cheeks lending the young man an extra spark of lively charm, cute as a plump little goldfish.

The beautiful White Bird chattered energetically right by his ear. “Snap out of it, boyfriend! I’ve been waiting for you forever. Tonight we’re picking out a gift for you, so you better perk up…”

Lu Xiang stared at the young man in a slight daze, silent.

After a moment, those cool-yet-warm hands cupped his cheeks. Jiang Rang squeezed them inward just a bit, as if he’d spotted something hilarious. Laughing with crinkled eyes, he said, “What are you spacing out for? Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

Lu Xiang’s throat bobbed. After a long pause, the sharp chill in his brows and eyes melted away into a profound gentleness. Those stunning peach-blossom eyes fixed intently on the lover before him.

The man’s thin lips parted slightly. After another beat, he murmured, “Yeah, I’m jealous. Jiang Jiang, you better come coax me quick.”