The photo Ou Yu posted quickly drew hundreds of fan comments. Xiao Fen scrolled through them. They all said they hadn’t known the two were friends, that their relationship seemed so good, looking quite ambiguous. Some even joked about ways to discipline the “little brother,” with content veering wildly off track.
A few malicious comments occasionally appeared but vanished quickly.
He scrolled through them with relish when he suddenly turned his head and looked at the person standing behind the sofa.
Ou Yu’s hands rested on the sofa back, his fingers idly sliding up and down on his phone. Noticing his gaze, he looked up and asked, “What’s up?”
The gaze from behind the sofa was too intense for Xiao Fen to ignore. He casually glanced down at himself and tugged his shirt hem down as he sat up straighter.
The light in Ou Yu’s eyes dimmed a bit. He smiled gently at him and was about to straighten up when the wrist hanging low was grabbed by the person on the sofa.
Xiao Fen knelt on the sofa cushions, one hand holding his wrist, the other supporting the thick sofa back as he straightened his upper body. “I replied to you. Take a look.”
With that, his fluffy head leaned toward his phone, startling Ou Yu.
The clear, rich scent of cliff cypress lingered at his nose. He lowered his head and tapped several apps before finding Weibo. “Mm, I saw it. My fans have big tempers. This should make them rein it in a bit.”
No sooner had he spoken than a warm breath licked past his ear, carrying a clear, laughing tone mixed with the malt aroma of beer as it burrowed into his ear canal and lingered in his cochlea.
“Thanks, Brother Ou Yu.”
“Eh?” Ou Yu shifted his face back a little to avoid his breath. “…Mm.”
The sudden closeness brought a burst of moist heat that made his heart skip erratically for no reason.
The tone in Xiao Fen’s words was purely grateful, his expression natural and open. His brandy-colored eyes were clear and bright, and a flush of pink showed through his milky skin.
Instead, he straightened up, not daring to look into the other’s eyes again.
“Good brothers. I went a bit overboard today. Next time, I’ll go easy.” Xiao Fen patted his arm.
“There’s a next time?” Ou Yu looked up with a wry smile, his expression much more natural. “Can’t I have some involvement in this show? Getting caught or killed in the first episode means elimination risk. A film emperor like me getting knocked out in one round would be a laughingstock.”
“You said it,” Xiao Fen shook his phone smugly. “I’ll dare next time too.”
“I’ll edit it again.” With that, he opened his phone, but it suddenly vanished from his hand.
Ou Yu reached over the sofa back to snatch it.
“Give it back.”
“It’s already posted. How can I change it?” Xiao Fen raised both hands high, passing the phone back and forth so he kept missing.
A supple waist peeked out from the loose T-shirt, his belly without a trace of excess fat. As he leaned back, a mermaid line at his waist and the outlines of two abs appeared.
“The fans are already giving you ideas on how to discipline me. How come big brother hasn’t learned yet?”
Ou Yu lunged forward, intending to pin him down, but lost his balance instead. His chin was about to smack the sofa’s wooden edge when Xiao Fen hurriedly steadied him, letting out a close-call sigh of relief.
“If Film Emperor gets marred in my room, a hundred posts won’t help.”
No sooner had he spoken than he yelped, flipped over by a surge of strength, and tumbled onto the carpet.
In the next moment, Ou Yu was on top of him, knees planted on either side of his body, looking down at him. Amid the gentle expression was a hint of sharp possessiveness.
He grabbed both of his slender wrists with one hand, trying to get his phone, but Xiao Fen’s fingers seemed welded in place, unmoving.
“Alright, stop messing around. Give me the phone.” He laughed helplessly. “I won’t change it. If fans stir trouble in the future, I’ll speak up for you.”
“No.” Xiao Fen lay on the carpet, chin raised, his smile thick with provocation.
He really should listen to the fans and properly discipline this disobedient little brother.
Ou Yu’s eyes darkened a shade.
The doorbell rang outside—it was the food delivery.
Joy flashed on Xiao Fen’s face. His body twisted flexibly, easily breaking free of his hold. He jumped up cheerfully and went to open the door.
Ou Yu was entirely flipped over, tumbling onto the sofa with that surge of strength. He stared at his now-empty hand in a daze.
“You want to eat a bit more?” Xiao Fen’s voice came from the door.
“No need.” Ou Yu stood and picked up the clothes from the floor, draping them over his arm. His expression returned to normal. “I’ll take them to the hotel laundry. Once washed and dried, I’ll have the staff send them up.”
“Good.” Xiao Fen leaned at the door, bidding Ou Yu farewell as he wheeled in the food cart.
The rock music pumped up again. He alternated bites of beer and barbecue, flinging a silver fork that nailed the medium-rare steak on the coffee table. He grabbed the handle and chomped the whole thing.
Full and buzzed, he sang his heart out, rubbed his belly, took a hot shower, exhausted himself, and finally slid into the soft big bed.
The original host’s bed at home wasn’t as comfy as the hotel’s.
An hour later.
He stared at the ceiling above, eyes wide like copper bells.
He couldn’t sleep.
He’d eaten too much.
Time for some digestive tablets.
Two hours later.
He resignedly got up, slipped on a bathrobe, and planned to take a stroll outside.
He entered the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor. It had just reached the 18th when it stopped.
The silver metal doors slid open. Outside stood Fang Si Ting.
White shirt, black tie, black suit.
Xiao Fen glanced at the time: 2:30 a.m.
Fang Si Ting’s arm hung low, holding a laptop as he stepped into the elevator.
He stood right in the center front, showing no intention of making way.
The oxygen in the narrow space thinned instantly.
Xiao Fen eyed his approaching arm, thinking if he dared brush against him, he’d make him lose face on camera tomorrow.
Clearly, the other didn’t want contact either. Just before they would have touched, Fang Si Ting shifted slightly, avoiding him by a hair’s breadth and standing diagonally behind. Now Xiao Fen was displeased.
He poked his tongue against his gums, eyes rolling as he eyed the mirror image of the man behind him.
Build? Just so-so, a bit bulkier than him.
Face? No good. So what if handsome? That deadpan face was too bland.
Height… not in his judgment range.
As he looked, the eyes in the mirror caught him.
After just one glance at the mirror reflection, Fang Si Ting looked away.
“You’re cursing me.” Xiao Fen’s face cooled.
“I haven’t spoken.”
“You’re cursing me with your eyes.”
“Evidence.”
“I don’t care.”
“Case-solving requires evidence.”
“I’m not a vice squad officer.”
Fang Si Ting looked straight at him for the third time that day. “Then what about your sizing me up?”
Xiao Fen felt no shame at being caught peeking. Hands in his bathrobe pockets, he met those calm eyes in the mirror. “How does Inspector Fang know I’m sizing you up instead of doing something else?”
“Your eyes.”
“If you weren’t looking at me, how do you know I was looking at you?”
“Feeling.”
Xiao Fen turned around, looking at him and swaggering closer with a cocky face.
What did this guy eat to grow so tall?
He took another step back, their eye levels aligning a bit. Only then did he arrogantly lift his head. “So Inspector Fang doesn’t solve cases on evidence but catches criminals on feeling?”
“Not always.” Fang Si Ting gave him a cold sidelong glance. “Sometimes criminals blunder on their own.”
“Inspector Fang’s skills are just average, waiting for criminals to walk into the trap.”
“For fools, I cut them slack.” Fang Si Ting shot him a look. “Like this afternoon.”
Xiao Fen laughed. “Does Inspector Fang think a look and a few words from you will rile me up?”
“I don’t speculate.”
“Are you a robot? Or do you charge by the word?”
Talking to him was exhausting.
What a boring guy.
No wonder he hated vice squad officers the most.
Especially the fake-upright ones.
The elevator reached the first floor and opened. Xiao Fen turned and exited first. After a few steps, he heard voices behind him.
He turned to see a young man holding a phone, face red, stuttering as he tried to add Fang Si Ting’s contact.
“I don’t have the habit of adding strangers.”
The young man awkwardly said, “Sorry to bother you,” and fled like he wanted to burrow into the earth.
Fang Si Ting saw Xiao Fen standing nearby, gloating mockingly, ignored him, and walked straight past.
“Who would’ve thought someone like you has fans.” Slippers slapping, Xiao Fen chased after, teasing. “So popular with guys—don’t tell me you like men too?”
“Discriminating?”
“Don’t try to trap me. I’m a public figure—improper statements get you flamed.”
Same-sex marriage had been legal for less than a year, and plenty in society still opposed it.
Fang Si Ting glanced at his bathrobe: dark green base with diamond-check patterns and flowers. Even his grandpa wouldn’t wear that.
But that old-fashioned robe was made retro-chic by that blindingly white skin and upright, handsome face.
Zero public figure awareness.
“You like men?” he countered.
Xiao Fen smiled, a sly glint in his eyes. He sauntered closer like a gold-dusted thorny rose, dazzling under the lobby’s golden lights.
“Why do you think that? Like attracts like? Birds of a feather?”
Knew it—this guy was fake-upright.
Fang Si Ting’s gaze lingered a few seconds at his loose collar.
“Skinny dog.”
Xiao Fen’s smile froze.
Skin… skinny dog?!
This young master has lean muscle! Lean muscle—know how fierce that is?!
“Fang Si Ting, stop right there!”
Fang Si Ting got into the black Cullinan parked at the hotel entrance without a backward glance.
Xiao Fen ground his teeth, slippers slapping as he re-entered the elevator.
Shouldn’t have gone for a midnight stroll. He’d worked up an appetite from anger.
Driving this privately—gonna report him for corruption someday.
As the doors were closing, the young man who’d asked Fang Si Ting for contact slipped in.
Xiao Fen leaned his left arm on the elevator wall, hands tucked into the wide sleeves, slouching sideways to eye him. “You a show guest?”
“Ah?” The young man looked flustered. “Yeah, civilian guest. Please go easy tomorrow.” He bowed.
“Makes sense.” Xiao Fen got it.
Colleagues exchanging contacts—normal.
Who’d like a cold-faced freak?
“You’re Teacher Xiao, right?” the young man said softly. “Um… could you get me an autograph?”
“Sure, got paper and pen?” Xiao Fen straightened, posture proper for once, looking like an entertainer.
“Yeah, yeah.” The young man beamed. “Thanks for getting Fang Si Ting—Inspector Fang’s—autograph.”
Xiao Fen: “…”
“You two seemed close just now, so…”
“Not close.”
“Don’t know him.”
“Strangers.”
“Oh.” The young man seemed to catch on. “Then can I get yours…”
“No.”
