Chapter 4: Divorce

Lin Jianxi sidestepped Song Cheng’an and stepped into the room. He removed the ribbon from his head in front of the mirror, then walked over to Song Cheng’an and flicked the ribbon out of his hair.

Song Cheng’an’s eyes curved beneath his tousled bangs.

The kid had a pair of bedroom eyes, the kind that made it look like he was flirting with everyone he met. It almost had Lin Jianxi wondering if he really intended to do something with him.

Lin Jianxi chuckled softly. “Mission accomplished?”

Song Cheng’an replied, “You know we don’t get along. That was just heat-of-the-moment talk. Don’t read into it.”

Lin Jianxi shrugged it off and dialed Gu Heng’s number.

The call connected, and Gu Heng’s voice emerged from the phone amid a faint vibration, laced with exhaustion. “Is it over? How’s your knee? I called a therapist to the house for you.”

“Husband.”

Lin Jianxi rarely called Gu Heng “Husband,” and never over the phone. Gu Heng went still for a moment, as if something had shattered on his end. “Where are you? What happened?”

Song Cheng’an slumped in the chair, his head tilted against the wall.

“Nothing. I’m safe. I just wanted to talk to you,” Lin Jianxi said. “See you soon.”

Lin Jianxi rubbed his temples. He’d probably had one too many drinks earlier; his head was spinning. He sank onto the bed and heard Song Cheng’an say, “I’ll fetch some water for you. With your knee acting up, you should soak it in hot water more often.”

“Mm.”

The instant his feet slipped into the water, Lin Jianxi’s eyes narrowed. He spoke slowly. “Kid, after graduation, are you thinking of going abroad or taking the college entrance exams?”

“The college entrance exams,” Song Cheng’an murmured, his head bowed, his bangs veiling every trace of emotion in his eyes. Only his voice remained. “I’m not leaving this city.”

“Will you come back to visit me, then?” Lin Jianxi teased. “Otherwise, it’d be pretty lonely with no kids at my knee.”

Song Cheng’an’s hands paused on his legs. He didn’t look up as he murmured something Lin Jianxi couldn’t quite make out.

“The water’s hot—it speeds up blood circulation…” His fingertips grazed the top of Lin Jianxi’s foot.

Lin Jianxi parted his lips, but before a word could escape, Song Cheng’an bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to his calf.

“…”

Song Cheng’an always came across as so affectionate. Every ambiguous gesture felt effortless for him, and he had a habit of doing the unexpected at the worst possible moments.

Little lunatic.

Lin Jianxi gazed at his fluffy hair.

Pretty cute.

“The drugs will metabolize faster in your system.”

Song Cheng’an’s voice took on an ethereal quality. The heat from the water felt like insects crawling up from his soles, along his calves, and spreading through his entire body. Every inch of him burned, the discomfort mounting.

Lin Jianxi realized what was happening. Pink tinged the corners of his eyes as he stared at Song Cheng’an. “You drugged me…?”

It had been in the wine from the school party.

Lin Jianxi’s body gave out. He slumped against the headboard in a daze. He knew calling Gu Heng right now would be pointless—Song Cheng’an wouldn’t let him anywhere near the phone.

“…”

What a little lunatic.

What did Song Cheng’an plan to do to him? A vague sense of dread stirred in Lin Jianxi’s chest.

He asked, “What kind of drug?”

Song Cheng’an settled into the chair at the foot of the bed. “An aphrodisiac.”

Lin Jianxi let out a light laugh. “What, you want to hear me moan again? Don’t you have plenty of recordings already?”

“Mm.” Song Cheng’an picked up his phone and initiated a video call to Gu Heng. As the ringing tone played, he drawled with exaggerated relish, “You have no idea how good your voice sounds. Recordings just don’t cut it.”

Lin Jianxi understood now.

Song Cheng’an wanted to use him to get revenge on Gu Heng.

“Song Cheng’an.” Lin Jianxi’s voice turned icy. “You can’t call him.”

To his surprise, Song Cheng’an obeyed, ending the call the instant Gu Heng picked up. “You’re scared, Lin Jianxi.”

Lin Jianxi had never truly regarded this place as a real world, which was why he lived so freely, doing whatever struck his fancy as long as it felt good. Even if a maniac suddenly showed up and chopped him to pieces, he figured it would all prove illusory. The moment he died, the System would appear, declare his task complete—at least adequately so—and send him back to reality.

But Gu Heng was different.

He wasn’t from this world. Gu Heng was. Every wound, every trauma was utterly real to him. That was why Lin Jianxi never meddled in any decisions between Song Cheng’an and Gu Heng.

Because this was their world.

Lin Jianxi admitted, “Yeah, I’m scared. So have some mercy and let us off the hook.”

Song Cheng’an spun the phone in his hand once. “Come and get it.”

Lin Jianxi rasped, “Can’t walk.”

Song Cheng’an leaned back and tossed the phone onto the table with a dull thud. Then, with a smile laced through his vicious words, he said, “Crawl over here, then, Lin Jianxi. I want to see you crawl on the floor.”

“…”

Lin Jianxi burst out laughing. He laughed until his head swam, until he coughed, his entire body flushed red.

Little Pervert.

He needed another lesson.

Song Cheng’an watched him laugh.

When Lin Jianxi had laughed his fill, he slid shakily off the bed and crawled toward Song Cheng’an. The loose collar of his shirt gaped open, baring swaths of skin, but he didn’t care. He never cared. Sometimes, when you were at a disadvantage, a bit of compliance was the smart play. He didn’t find the short distance humiliating or endless. Time seemed to race by, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. The drug had hit its peak; his body burned unbearably. The moment he seized Song Cheng’an’s ankle, a helpless moan escaped him.

Lin Jianxi realized he hadn’t crawled far at all—barely a meter before Song Cheng’an stopped him.

Song Cheng’an let out a faint sigh, fetched a pillow, and tucked it beneath Lin Jianxi’s knees.

“You really crawled,” Song Cheng’an murmured. “What the hell does that guy have that’s so worth liking?”

The heat was unbearable; Lin Jianxi hadn’t caught what Song Cheng’an said. He just craved the nearness of the person before him. But he had no strength left. After struggling futilely, he couldn’t even brush against Song Cheng’an’s hand. All he could do was gaze up at him with pitiful eyes.

He was burning up.

His eyes, damp strands of hair clinging to them, gleamed with delirious haze, yet they retained that singular quality all his own. His world had become a sweltering rainforest, thick with humid heat. The perpetrator pushed through the feverish air, bending down in pity to enfold him in a tight embrace. He clasped Lin Jianxi’s hand and whispered into his ear.

“Lin Jianxi, kiss me, and I’ll let you go today. Okay?”

Lin Jianxi stared at Song Cheng’an’s face. The casual flirtation was gone from his eyes; in its place was something earnest, tangled with hatred, pity, and the raw struggle of desire.

Song Cheng’an pinched Lin Jianxi’s chin. Lin Jianxi’s eyelids drooped, heavy as lead. He murmured, “You don’t like me anyway.”

“I like you.” Song Cheng’an’s fingers trailed over his lips.

Lin Jianxi closed his eyes, exhausted and swept up in waves of heat. He had no idea what tone his voice carried. “We can’t stand the sight of each other—you said it yourself.”

Amid the flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder, back when they were children, Song Cheng’an had been heartbroken by Lin Jianxi’s avoidance. He’d spoken in a cold voice: “Lin Jianxi, I don’t like you either. We can’t stand the sight of each other.”

Song Cheng’an paused for a moment, then drew closer to his cheek, nuzzling it lightly like a cat.

Cool… so comfortable. Lin Jianxi thought in a haze.

“What kids say doesn’t count,” Song Cheng’an said.

“Aren’t you still a kid yourself? You like stealing other people’s toys, even though you have no real interest in them.” Lin Jianxi laughed again. He struggled to raise his hand and push Song Cheng’an away. “Come on, kid, let me go. I’ve already crawled around for you. This drug is unbearable. Where did you even get it? Is it legit? Am I going to be ruined for life?”

“…”

Song Cheng’an slipped something into his mouth. His fingertip glided over Lin Jianxi’s tongue, pressing down deliberately and lightly. Lin Jianxi tilted his head back in agony, baring his graceful neck. He nearly retched, his mouth flooding with saliva. He swallowed frantically as the object slid from his mouth down his throat, leaving a sharp, bitter trail in its wake.

As children, Lin Jianxi had always avoided Song Cheng’an, and the perceptive boy had never initiated physical contact with him—from childhood right up to adulthood. That day’s hand-holding had been the first time, but Lin Jianxi had long since lost track of how many times it had happened since. Song Cheng’an clung to him like glue, cradling him like a cherished doll, stroking his hair and nuzzling his nose.

The medicine worked quickly. Most of the feverish heat drained from Lin Jianxi’s body.

He was letting him off just like that…

He really was a softhearted kid, after all.

Song Cheng’an seemed delighted. “Lin Jianxi, you’re so beautiful.”

Lin Jianxi couldn’t fathom the sudden compliment and was too tired to dwell on it. The boy was erratic one moment to the next. If he weren’t so handsome, he’d probably get bullied and shunned at school.

He might as well treat himself like an object. After all, he had to play the part of an unsuccessful househusband.

That was Lin Jianxi’s last thought before sleep claimed him.

Whatever rivalry existed between Gu Heng and Song Cheng’an was their business.

In his dreams, he vaguely overheard Song Cheng’an speaking to someone.

“In a little while.”

“But we agreed on today. You’ve already drugged him, the phone’s all set up—it’s just one last step to drive that guy insane.”

“…”

Song Cheng’an seemed to be crouched by the bedside, clasping his hand. His thumb rubbed gently over the back of it before he leaned into the hollow of Lin Jianxi’s neck, resting his head there. His hair was soft and fluffy, like a small animal’s fur.

“Just wait a bit longer. I don’t want to do it this way anymore… There has to be another method. It should work…”

~~~

The day’s events felt like a dream. With the drug’s effects faded, Lin Jianxi sat beside Gu Heng, offering the client a polished smile. He still felt somewhat dazed.

The client said, “Mr. Lin, any interest in coming to work for my company?”

Lin Jianxi shook his head, his smile coming first. The client froze for a second, then glanced toward the young man standing nearby—Song Cheng’an was lounging against the kitchen counter, a glass in hand, grinning at him. That grin seemed to strip him naked, laying all his sordid intentions bare for everyone to see, like a public shaming.

The client wiped his face awkwardly. “Ha, haha, no worries. If you change your mind, give me a call. Our doors are always open to you.”

Lin Jianxi walked over. “Let me see you out.”

The client murmured quietly, “Is that your son?”

Lin Jianxi replied, “He’s just staying with us for now. His grades are solid. You should keep an eye on him—he’d be a better fit for the role you mentioned than I would.”

The client: “…”

Mr. Lin was certainly dutiful, but… that kid…

The client had the nagging sense he’d seen Song Cheng’an somewhere before, though he couldn’t place it.

Then something clicked, and the client’s face drained of color. “He…”

Lin Jianxi: “Something wrong?”

The client started to speak but was cut off by Gu Heng. When Lin Jianxi asked again, the client could only manage, “He looks a bit intimidating… Haha, it’s nothing. Just idle chatter.”

Lin Jianxi smiled. “He can be, now and then—puberty, you know. But he’s usually adorable.”

Client & Gu Heng: “…”

After escorting the client out, Lin Jianxi returned to the sofa and leaned against Gu Heng.

Gu Heng looked troubled, and Lin Jianxi could tell. He opted not to pry, content to play the part of a clueless househusband.

Gu Heng spoke abruptly. “Lin Jianxi.”

It was the first time Gu Heng had used his full name. Lin Jianxi glanced up.

Gu Heng met his gaze. “Do you want a divorce?”

“…”

Song Cheng’an’s hand froze mid-air as he washed the glass, water pouring relentlessly over it with a deafening rush.

He lowered his lashes and quietly set the glass aside.

He shut off the faucet.

After a moment’s thought, he removed his earbuds too, listening in silence for Lin Jianxi’s reply.