Chapter 3: The Hotel

“Song Cheng’an!”

Gu Heng slammed the table. “Watch your mouth!”

This was the first time in years that Lin Jianxi had seen Gu Heng truly angry. The hidden emotions between the two men erupted to their utmost in that instant. Song Cheng’an remained unfazed, lifting his gaze to Gu Heng while his earphones stayed plugged into his ears.

They were wired earphones.

Lin Jianxi showed little reaction, simply grinding out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Gu Heng, head back.”

“Song Cheng’an, you—”

“I can handle this.” Lin Jianxi met Gu Heng’s eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”

“…”

Gu Heng drew in a deep breath and rubbed his face. “Sorry. I’ll go cool off.”

“Mm.”

Once Gu Heng had gone, Lin Jianxi approached Song Cheng’an. The kid was tall; Lin Jianxi had to tilt his head slightly to meet his eyes. A clean scent of laundry detergent clung to him—not the same brand Lin Jianxi used.

With his index finger, Lin Jianxi gently tugged the earphone from Song Cheng’an’s right ear and slipped it into his own. Filling it was the sound of his own moans.

He was always capricious during sex—moaning freely when the mood struck, staying quiet when it didn’t, and sometimes, in a particularly good humor, letting loose with something more wanton.

Evidently, he’d been in high spirits that time.

Song Cheng’an turned his head to regard him. Lin Jianxi left the earphone in, holding Song Cheng’an’s gaze as he listened. “Dating someone?”

Song Cheng’an didn’t reply.

It wasn’t unusual for a kid his age to start dating. Lin Jianxi just wondered about the other person—and about Song Cheng’an himself. He hoped it wouldn’t turn into a repeat of his childhood antics, like stealing underwear and stuffing it in his mouth. Lin Jianxi let out a soft chuckle. “Cat got your tongue? Too absorbed in the listening?”

A surge of nameless fury rose in Song Cheng’an’s chest. From the sounds alone, he could picture Lin Jianxi writhing beneath Gu Heng—a version utterly unlike the man standing before him now. And yet, even as they shared this intensely intimate moment, Lin Jianxi remained utterly composed, as if everything Song Cheng’an had done was nothing more than a joke.

“Lin Jianxi,” Song Cheng’an said, his smile cold and mirthless, “you sound so damn good when you moan.”

Lin Jianxi studied him.

A moment later, he slipped off his slippers, drew back his hand, and delivered a slap across Song Cheng’an’s face—not too hard, not too light. The sharp crack echoed.

Song Cheng’an sneered. “Keep hitting me. Every strike, and I’ll pay it back inside you one day.”

Lin Jianxi fixed him with a steady gaze. “Say that again.”

“I said, I’ll pay it back in—”

Slap!

The blow snapped Song Cheng’an’s head to the side. It was the first time Lin Jianxi had ever truly struck him.

The earphone fell from Song Cheng’an’s left ear, dangling and swaying in the air.

“Say it.”

“…” Song Cheng’an pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and let out a derisive huff, as though it didn’t hurt at all—and as if he were even a little thrilled.

Lin Jianxi asked, “Do you think you’re normal?”

That slap had carried ninety percent of Lin Jianxi’s strength. A smear of red bloomed at the corner of Song Cheng’an’s mouth. He dabbed at the blood with his knuckle, his lashes lowered. In the dim light, his profile took on a darkly seductive edge. Lin Jianxi tossed his slippers to the floor. “Tomorrow, I’ll visit your school. Until you leave this place, I’m still your guardian. I have every right to discipline you.”

Lin Jianxi added, “You can do whatever you want. But not like this. This is a twisted path.”

Song Cheng’an fell silent.

Lin Jianxi’s voice stayed level, even in the wake of the violence.

He leaned against the table, scooped a bit of cream onto his index finger, and licked it off while listening to the wind and the cicadas humming outside the window.

“I only did it to piss him off. It won’t happen again.”

Lin Jianxi picked up the plastic knife from the cake and dug out more cream to eat. He didn’t look up, as if Song Cheng’an’s confession had nothing to do with him.

“Lin Jianxi, I was wrong. Show me some mercy.” Song Cheng’an pressed on.

Lin Jianxi’s knife scraped into the cake itself. His expression remained unchanged. The candle before him burned shorter and shorter until its flame sputtered out atop the frosting. Suddenly, he lost his appetite.

Lin Jianxi set the knife down. As he turned to leave, he told Song Cheng’an, “Clean this up.”

“…”

Rather than return to his room, Lin Jianxi lingered on the second-floor landing, watching Song Cheng’an tidy the cake.

He watched as Song Cheng’an took the plastic knife, carved out a piece of cake, and slowly ate the cream from it. The teenager was lean; his throat bobbed sharply with every swallow.

Lin Jianxi toyed with an unlit cigarette. “Kid, there’s food in the fridge.”

Song Cheng’an’s hand paused mid-motion, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. But he recovered quickly, flashing that familiar smile. “Thanks.”

~~~

Lin Jianxi returned to the bedroom and realized he’d left his lighter behind. He leaned against the headboard and crooked a finger at Gu Heng to light his cigarette.

As Gu Heng held the flame to it, he asked, “What did he say to you?”

“Just kid stuff. What could he say? Tempers run hot at that age—perfectly normal.” Lin Jianxi brushed it off. “Is the client coming here tomorrow? I’ve got Song Cheng’an’s graduation ceremony at school in the morning.”

Gu Heng replied distractedly, “Mm, afternoon. Don’t buy whatever Song Cheng’an says. That kid’s sharp—nine lies out of every ten words.”

“So that’s why you keep him close? Watching your rival grow up keeps you motivated?” Lin Jianxi teased. “I still can’t make heads or tails of whatever’s between you two.”

Gu Heng had never explained his exact history with Song Cheng’an, and Lin Jianxi had never pressed the issue. Years had slipped by like that, and even now, the full story eluded him.

Gu Heng offered no clarification today, either.

Lin Jianxi finished his smoke, planted a kiss on Gu Heng’s chin, and drifted off to sleep. The next morning, the three of them sat at the table for breakfast. Lin Jianxi propped his head on one hand and nibbled at a youtiao, but he filled up after a few bites and decided to head upstairs and change.

Gu Heng caught his hand. “I’ll come with you.”

Lin Jianxi was in high spirits, a smile tugging at his lips. He started to nod—and then Gu Heng leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth. Lin Jianxi let it happen without stirring.

Song Cheng’an’s grip tightened on his chopsticks. Something dark flickered in his ever-smiling eyes.

Once Lin Jianxi and Gu Heng had gone upstairs, Song Cheng’an flung his chopsticks aside. Cold indifference settled over his face—a stark contrast to the image Lin Jianxi carried of him.

~~~

Lin Jianxi changed into a white button-down and jeans. Dressed like that, he could easily pass for a college student.

He and Song Cheng’an rode in the back seat. Lin Jianxi reached for a cigarette but remembered they were in the car and tossed the pack aside instead. He made small talk with the driver.

The man was middle-aged, on his second marriage. Lin Jianxi pried gently and learned the driver’s ex-wife had died in a car crash. He felt a pang of sympathy and offered a few words of comfort.

As they stepped out, Song Cheng’an spoke up unexpectedly. “You have a strong reaction to widowhood.”

“What of it? He phrased it that way—should I have laughed?”

“…”

Lin Jianxi gazed at the impressive school grounds and smiled. “Really never dated anyone? The environment here is pretty nice.”

“Did you meet him at school?”

“Yeah, in college.”

“If you and him fell into a river, Lin Jianxi, who would you save?”

Lin Jianxi burst out laughing. “We’re all adults now, and you’re still asking such a shallow question.”

The graduation ceremony felt like a small cocktail party. Students dressed in formal attire mingled with their parents, chatting with teachers and posing for photos. Lin Jianxi couldn’t walk past the bar without stopping—he had the bartender mix him a drink. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Song Cheng’an standing nearby, head tilted as someone cupped a hand against the wind to light his cigarette.

Yo.

Lin Jianxi sauntered over with his glass in hand. Song Cheng’an noticed him and immediately straightened up. Before the cigarette could catch, Lin Jianxi plucked it from his lips. In the same smooth motion, he brushed the back of his hand lightly against Song Cheng’an’s mouth. “How long have you been smoking?”

Song Cheng’an replied, “First time.”

Lin Jianxi turned to the student beside him. “You tell me.”

The student glanced at Song Cheng’an, then back at Lin Jianxi, a strange glint in his eyes. “…First time, yeah.”

Song Cheng’an grinned. “Lin Jianxi, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Lin Jianxi could spot the lie a mile away—they were both full of it. He wanted to set things straight but didn’t care to lecture Song Cheng’an in front of a crowd, so he changed the subject. “The drinks here are pretty good.”

Song Cheng’an fetched him a chair, and Lin Jianxi settled in to sip his cocktail, eyes half-lidded. “Where’s your homeroom teacher?”

“She quit—illness.”

“How convenient.” Lin Jianxi eyed Song Cheng’an. “I was planning to ask her about how you’ve been.”

Propping his chin on his hand, Song Cheng’an said, “Lin Jianxi, I tell you everything. No secrets.”

Lin Jianxi laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

“What’s so funny?”

Catching his breath, Lin Jianxi draped himself over the table and peered up at Song Cheng’an. “Kid, after graduation, you’re leaving this place behind. Anything you want to say to me?”

“Sure.”

Song Cheng’an smiled back at him. “What do you think about widowhood?”

Still hung up on that driver business… Lin Jianxi replied slowly, “Other people might not get it, but for me? It’d just mean smoking and drinking at home—or smoking and drinking somewhere else, with a photo of my late husband on the table, toasting him a glass.”

“Ever wondered what the outside world is really like?”

“What else could it be? At worst, broke as hell, smoking and drinking in some dingy rental.”

Now it was Song Cheng’an’s turn to shake with laughter.

Lin Jianxi shot him a look. “Mocking me?”

Leaning in close, Song Cheng’an murmured, “Lin Jianxi, you’re like a bird with broken wings, trapped in a cage. You know that?”

“Then who broke my wings?” Lin Jianxi played along, as if they were spinning a fairy tale.

“God, I guess.” Song Cheng’an pondered for a moment.

Lin Jianxi tilted his head. “Got any more questions?”

Song Cheng’an went on, “Lin Jianxi, remember back in freshman year of high school, when you made me wash your feet?”

Lin Jianxi nodded.

He’d been dodging Song Cheng’an for a while after that, but eventually noticed the kid looked a little down. After some thought, he’d decided to let him wash his feet—to show there were no hard feelings, that little acts of respect like that were fine anytime.

Song Cheng’an gazed at him with a smile. “Lin Jianxi, come to the hotel with me now. I want to wash them again.”

“What about the rest of the graduation?” Lin Jianxi arched a brow. “Your thoughts jump around a bit.”

“No need.”

With that cryptic remark, Song Cheng’an grabbed his hand. Lin Jianxi blinked in surprise—this was the first time Song Cheng’an had ever held his hand. He tugged to free himself but couldn’t break the grip. And so, hand in hand, they crossed the school field amid the students’ laughter and cheers, arriving at a towering hotel right next door—over a dozen stories high.

At the room door, Lin Jianxi narrowed his eyes.

The place was unnaturally quiet. Lin Jianxi suspected the massive hotel had only a handful of people around, and they were all Song Cheng’an’s crew.

Kid’s doing well for himself.

Song Cheng’an really had made something of his life.

Song Cheng’an unlocked the door. Lin Jianxi lingered on the threshold, taking in the hotel’s sleek decor.

Instead of pulling him inside, Song Cheng’an fetched a party popper from the room and set it off right in front of him. Ribbons exploded outward, drifting down between them. Lin Jianxi’s gaze cut through the colorful cascade to Song Cheng’an’s clean, handsome face.

“Lin Jianxi.”

“Congrats on—”

Song Cheng’an’s smile was all innocence, but his words were anything but:

“Becoming a widower—mmph.”

Lin Jianxi clapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish. “Going dark on me won’t fly. Try someone else.”

“…”

Song Cheng’an dropped his gaze, looking utterly aggrieved.

Lin Jianxi kept his hand in place, smiling as he said, “Here’s to your career skyrocketing—though it’s already impressive, Song Cheng’an. Very nice work.”

Song Cheng’an froze in place. Even after Lin Jianxi pulled his hand away, he didn’t utter another word.

“…”