Chapter 21: Triple VIP Entry Part 2

“I’m just—not fond of my things being touched by someone else.”

He considered for a moment, then repeated it slowly, as if convincing himself. With firm certainty, he nodded.

“That’s all.”

The farce drew to a close here. The sole audience had no patience to watch any longer. His gaze skimmed over the wreckage on the floor before he turned and vanished into the shadows.

/

The latter half of the negotiations wrapped up quickly. The moment Feng Jizhou left with the documents, Song Linyu arrived right on time. He leaned against the doorframe, peeking his head in, and called out cautiously, “Bro.”

Uncharacteristically, Fu Yanzong didn’t respond. He simply flipped over a glass that had been upside down on the table. Without even bothering to add ice from the bucket, he rested his knuckles against the rim and poured it full of tequila.

Empty bottles cluttered the table. Song Linyu frowned at the sight, stepped into the room, and grasped Fu Yanzong’s wrist. “Too much alcohol isn’t good for you.”

Fu Yanzong turned his head, his eyes fixed on Song Linyu with a smile that didn’t reach them. After a long moment, he spoke in a tone tinged with regret. “But I like it. If I won’t drink, how about you drink it for me?”

Song Linyu blinked, then actually nodded. He lifted the glass and downed the entire cup of tequila. It was the awkward gulp of someone who’d never touched liquor before—the sharp, burning liquid searing straight down his throat without a drop spilling.

In the next instant, his brows knit tight. His throat convulsed violently, and he choked, coughing harshly. The liquor refluxed into his sinuses, scorching them with fiery acid.

Song Linyu set the glass down, coughing softly as he tilted his head. His fingertip pressed to his lips, and he drew a brief, sharp breath. A faint flush bloomed at the corners of his eyes from the suffocating burn.

Then he turned to look at Fu Yanzong, who said nothing. On his own initiative, Song Linyu picked up the bottle and poured a second glass—clearly taking Fu Yanzong’s offhand remark at face value. He was ready to tilt his head back and drink it for him.

That kind of self-punishing drinking was bound to hurt, but Song Linyu acted as if his own comfort meant nothing. Fu Yanzong stared at his face, realizing for the first time that such perfect obedience could be aggravating in its own way.

Just as the glass touched his lips, Fu Yanzong’s hand intercepted it. His fingertips gripped the side, and with a flick of his wrist, the amber liquid poured out in a slow arc, soaking into Song Linyu’s collar.

The cool trickle snaked down his neck, the heavy tequila scent saturating the fabric and seeping into the warm skin beneath.

The implication of the gesture was unmistakable. Song Linyu froze for a moment, then lowered his head. He raised a hand and began unbuttoning his shirt.

The damp fabric peeled away from his skin. Fu Yanzong held the glass steady without moving, while Song Linyu parted his knees and knelt between his legs. The back that had been held so straight now curved silently into a graceful arc.

Fu Yanzong, encircled at the waist and drawn close, lowered his eyes without much change in expression. His narrow phoenix eyes, marked by that beauty mole, curved in a half-smile as he pinched Song Linyu’s face and examined him leisurely.

It was uncanny. Like this, he seemed so obedient and perceptive—fun in bed, utterly unlike the man from earlier scenes.

If he were just a bedmate, a lover, or a plaything, Fu Yanzong would have told Song Linyu to get lost right then for this two-faced act.

So why couldn’t he say the words now?

Had he truly been oblivious before?

Fu Yanzong’s gaze lingered downward for a moment, falling on the discarded clothes scattered silently across the floor. Song Linyu emerged from the fabric, sprawling in his arms like an unpainted porcelain blank. The lingering glaze marks on his body were like a craftsman’s errant stroke in the firing.

Fu Yanzong said nothing, simply tightening his arm around Song Linyu’s waist and pulling him closer. The sudden motion drew a cry from Song Linyu—he couldn’t hold it back. But by now, he had learned to cry safely in Fu Yanzong’s arms. His face burned red as he reached out with hazy eyes, tugging at him and begging him to wait.

But the plea had no effect.

Fu Yanzong braced one hand on the sofa arm, the other still loosely holding the unfinished glass of tequila. His distinct knuckles rested against the cool, spice-tinged surface. He lowered his eyes, lashes veiling the emotion within, and lazily brought the glass to his lips.

The light played over him, his long hair loosely tied, a few strands slipping behind his ear to blur the pale chill of his skin and the sharp lines of his face. He narrowed his eyes slightly, shifting his gaze from the glass to Song Linyu’s face.

Spring warmth surged in the dim light. Amber eyes unfocused and reddened, rippling like an endless pool that held only one reflection.

Song Linyu had no strength left. He clung desperately to Fu Yanzong’s chest, a subtle swell rising at his taut waist amid muffled grunts. He bit his lip hard to stifle it—not very noticeable unless pressed close, when it became impossible to ignore.

A moment later, Fu Yanzong set the glass aside and pressed a hand to the trembling curve of his waist. He sighed. “If it hurts, say so.”

“It doesn’t.” Song Linyu nuzzled his face softly against him and murmured, “Are you unhappy…? You don’t have to hold back…”

Don’t have to?

In the next second, the one who’d spoken went rigid. His spine arched like an overstrained bowstring, no sound escaping him at all.

“Sit properly.”

Fu Yanzong pressed down on his disheveled face, his hand tightening relentlessly around Song Linyu’s waist. Amid the haze, Song Linyu let out two choked sobs before obediently settling into place. Shivering, he leaned in, seeking the first kiss of the night.

But Fu Yanzong lightly dodged away.

…

The rising heat in the room plummeted to freezing in an instant from that single motion. Song Linyu braced on his shoulders, stunned for a long while before leaning down to touch Fu Yanzong’s eyes.

In the ambiguous light, the emotions in Fu Yanzong’s eyes were impossible to discern. Inappropriately, Song Linyu recalled the media’s early praise for his acting.

They said a great actor was like Fu Yanzong—you could never tell the layers in his eyes, or what lay beneath. You only laughed with his smiles, cried with his tears.

Song Linyu’s hand was slick with thin sweat, smudging a watery haze at the corner of an eye. Fu Yanzong paused, then heard Song Linyu ask in a small, aggrieved whisper, “What’s wrong?”

“Who made you unhappy?”

As he spoke, the eyes that had been brimming with desire grew shadowed under the fall of dark hair. He pursued the question relentlessly, as if determined to pin the blame on someone.

“Feng Jizhou? Or that Little Yuan?”

Song Linyu pressed stubbornly, then answered himself. “Definitely both.”

“Don’t come next time,” Fu Yanzong heard him say. “I’m sorry.”

The apology came out of nowhere, and Fu Yanzong should have found it amusing. But in that moment, for some reason, it felt like the breath was being squeezed from his lungs.

Was it the stuffy room… or Song Linyu?

Heavy thoughts settled in like unripe green fruits swallowed whole, turning sour and bitter in his stomach. Fu Yanzong fell silent for a moment before suddenly smiling faintly. “Neither,” he said lightly. “I rather like it here. The owner behind the scenes must have put a lot of care into running the place.”

Song Linyu froze abruptly.

He went on, “There are plenty of interesting things here.”

As Fu Yanzong spoke, his eyes remained fixed on Song Linyu’s expression without a single blink. He had acted in so many scripts and handled every scene with his co-stars effortlessly, but Song Linyu’s performance was too flawless—flawless to the point that Fu Yanzong couldn’t find a single reason to suspect him.

Song Linyu was trembling all over now. Tears slid unconsciously down his face, his voice thick with acid as he pressed down hard on his fingertips. In a tone of utter helplessness, he pleaded tearfully with Fu Yanzong, “Don’t say that.”

He fought back the emotions threatening to shatter him and repeated, “Fu Yanzong, don’t treat anyone else the way you treat me. Please.”

Song Linyu cried without a sound—perhaps not even realizing the tears were falling. His face, flushed earlier from desire, had turned deathly pale and cold.

Fu Yanzong raised his hand. It took him a moment to realize what he was doing as he gently wiped away Song Linyu’s tears.

The rest of his words caught in his throat, impossible to voice.

“…I was just kidding.”

Fu Yanzong lowered his gaze. In the end, those were the only words he managed.

He leaned in slowly, brushing Song Linyu’s lips with a featherlight kiss like a dragonfly skimming water. At the same time, his long fingers trailed gently down Song Linyu’s slender back, drawing the man into his arms.

It was a touch and embrace of utmost tenderness.

Song Linyu’s tears burned hot, and in that scalding kiss, Fu Yanzong thought very, very softly: Song Linyu, I’ve never waited for anyone before.

So…

Don’t make me wait too long.

/

Ren Haoran’s polite smile toward Fu Yanzong didn’t last long. Su Tang finally arrived nearly two hours late, flinging open the door and shattering the quiet atmosphere the moment he stepped inside.

“Put them right here… Yeah, just bring everything in.”

As he spoke, Su Tang stepped aside and directed the stream of delivery workers behind him. They carried in bag after bag of snacks, placing them in front of every seat.

The actors, who had been quietly reviewing their scripts, found their train of thought derailed. They lifted their heads and looked around in bewilderment.

Soon, the cloyingly sweet aroma of cake filled the entire room. Milk teas and coffees piled up together, their cups dripping with condensation that soaked the table, making it impossible to set laptops down without slipping.

Su Tang planted his hands on his hips and announced proudly, as if claiming credit, “Everyone’s worked so hard! Today is my birthday, and this is my treat—afternoon tea for all. Don’t hold back!”

He expected cheers, but instead received only scattered applause, followed by a faint undercurrent of awkwardness in the air.

The director hesitated for a moment before asking softly, “Isn’t Teacher Su’s birthday tomorrow? We’ve got gifts planned for then.”

Su Tang flashed a mysterious smile, as if he’d been waiting for that exact question. He offered no explanation, simply pulling out the seat next to Fu Yanzong with a bashful yet contrived look of bliss. In a loud voice, he declared, “This is a secret between me and someone special.”

Fu Yanzong responded politely, “Can secrets really be secrets if you shout them? You’re being a bit noisy, Teacher Su.”

Su Tang’s expression froze on his face.

The Self-Rescue System immediately popped up in Fu Yanzong’s mind, saying cautiously, “Host, we’ve now entered the plot phase. Just in case you’ve forgotten, here’s a reminder of the original text.”

It pulled up the novel’s original lines and read them out with dramatic flair, just like the actors rehearsing their dialogue.

【Even after so long apart, the sight of that mischievous little imp Su Tang left even the ever-composed Fu Yanzong in a daze at first glance.】

【That fresh, otherworldly little face, flushed pink with rouge and joy, those slowly pouting red lips—they made Fu Yanzong’s throat bob, dark impulses stirring in his heart.】

By the time Fu Yanzong realized what he was hearing, the system’s rapid reading had already finished. Fu Yanzong: …?

His face remained expressionless as he gripped the water bottle tightly. His throat did indeed roll slightly, just as the plot described.

But it was due to a gag reflex from nausea.

—In short: disgust-induced vomit.

After Fu Yanzong took a swig of water to steady himself, the Self-Rescue System, knowing it had messed up again, quickly added, “Host, the next part is definitely effective plot.”

【Su Tang ignored the predatory gaze from the man beside him and recalled everything he had once done for that boy.】