After a less-than-pleasant encounter, Fu Xuanliao took a shower, peeled off the band-aid on his hand, and found that the wound had scabbed over. It didn't hurt, but it didn't look very nice.
Back in the bedroom, seeing Shi Meng sitting on the edge of the bed drawing, Fu Xuanliao suddenly realized that for more than four years he had been playing the role of a prostitute, dressing himself up neatly and presenting himself to his employer's bed, selling himself with great enthusiasm.
Perhaps it was precisely because they were so dedicated and satisfied with their service that the employer was reluctant to let them go.
Therefore, Fu Xuanliao could only be a little worse to him, even worse, so that he would have nothing to hold onto, and he could extricate himself as soon as possible, lest... lest what? It doesn't matter anymore.
Fu Xuanliao cut off his thoughts and stopped thinking about it.
Painting was probably when Shi Meng looked most normal. He pursed his lips, his expression serious to the point of being solemn, his gaze fixed on the paper, drifting lightly with the movement of the pen tip.
He seemed to be drawing a portrait, using lines to establish the proportions of the upper body. He appeared dissatisfied with his initial strokes, crumpling up three sheets of paper, all of which were only the beginning.
Fu Xuanliao was curious about what he was drawing, and stared at it for a while out of boredom. After only a short while, Shi Meng slowly stopped drawing, turned his head and asked, "What are you looking at?"
Remembering how Shi Meng had tried to avoid being seen painting on the tour bus at the resort, Fu Xuanliao scoffed, "You insisted on keeping me here. The room is so small, where am I supposed to look?"
“My painting is better than his,” Shi Meng said.
Realizing who the "he" he was referring to was, Fu Xuanliao gave a slightly annoyed snort: "Quite confident."
In fact, Shi Meng's painting was indeed very good; even someone with his amateur eye, who had only studied painting for a week, could tell. It's a pity that this guy didn't cherish his talent and actually did something like stealing a painting.
But on the other hand, since Shi Meng paints so well, and is full of inspiration every day, treating painting as a regular thing as eating, why not just paint it himself? Why steal other people's paintings to participate in the competition?
Just as the question arose in my mind, I suddenly heard a long, drawn-out "meow."
The two looked in the direction of the sound and saw the cat curled up in its bedside nest with its mouth wide open, yawning.
This cat has never made a sound since it arrived at the house; this is the first time it has meowed.
As if aware that it was being watched by two pairs of eyes, the chubby cat stood up from its bed, shook its fur, and then stretched out on all fours with its back arched, performing an extreme stretch.
Fu Xuanliao always had mixed feelings about this black and white cat named Mumu. But what bad intentions could a kitten possibly have? Unable to resist the urge to pet it, Fu Xuanliao clapped his hands and called out, "Come here."
After stretching, Mumu glanced at him, straightened up, shook its fur, and gracefully walked toward the easel with its tail held high. In the right spot, it kicked its legs and jumped, landing steadily on Shimeng's back.
Reaching out to catch nothing, Fu Xuanliao instantly forgot what he had been thinking and cursed, thinking to himself that this place was unbearable.
This year, Lunar New Year's Eve falls on a Friday.
In the past, the Fu family was often abroad during the Lunar New Year. When they were able to gather in China, there was not much of a festive atmosphere. They would have a meal and then go back to their rooms to rest. They were all busy on weekdays and needed their own private space.
So these few days, when he's usually the most active in the industry, have become a time for Fu Xuanliao to slack off. He's been ignoring most of the endless phone calls since yesterday, since he knows they're mostly just asking him to come and have some fun.
After distributing employee benefits at the company and finishing his last shift, Fu Xuanliao received a call from Gao Lecheng inviting him for drinks, so he went straight there from the company.
This time it wasn't in Heting, but a newly opened bar with an artsy decor, playing soft rock music, and dim, hazy lighting, perfect for relaxing and chatting.
"Do you know why I didn't invite you to Heting?" Gao Lecheng launched into a barrage of complaints as soon as they met. "It's because that little boy named Xu Zhi still has his eye on you. Every time I go, he subtly inquires about you in front of me. You know, it's not good for a guy like me to be surrounded by a little boy all the time. People might even think I'm gay."
Fu Xuanliao laughed and said, "Then tell him next time that President Fu is also a prostitute, and he's not worth his time."
Gao Lecheng glanced at his expression, unsure if he was joking: "Isn't your contract with your Bing... oh no, Young Master Shi about to be terminated?"
"Who knows?" Fu Xuanliao sank into the sofa, the busy days before the New Year had drained his energy. "We haven't reached a conclusion yet, we still have to get through the New Year first."
It refers to the meeting with Li Bihan the day before yesterday. Overall, it wasn't too bad. Fu Xuanliao expressed his desire to terminate the contract as soon as possible and hoped that Li Bihan could help him. Li Bihan also subtly mentioned that she needed his assistance in some areas.
The older woman was well-maintained, and there were no wrinkles when she smiled: "It's nothing more than those unsavory family matters that you're laughing at." Her voice was gentle, but what she said was somewhat cruel: "What rightfully belongs to Mu Mu in the Shi family, I, as her mother, will naturally help her take back."
At the time, he didn't think much of it, but looking back, Fu Xuanliao realized that he was subconsciously feeling sad for Shi Meng.
He had a large, magnificent home, and his parents were still alive, but he never knew who would stab him in the back, leaving him with nothing overnight.
Although it's not that exaggerated, Shi Meng can paint, and a little inquiry reveals that his paintings are quite popular. Even without the Shi family's shares, he can still live well on his own.
Having figured this out, Fu Xuanliao felt that he was being too idle. He hadn't even sorted out his own affairs yet, and he was already worrying about him. He even put aside the cooperation proposal that Li Bihan had put on the table, saying that he needed to consider it again.
Fu Xuanliao told himself that this had nothing to do with Shi Meng, but was because of Shi Huaiyi's face. After all, he had received a lot of help from him in the past two years. On the surface, he was bound by a contract, but in reality, it was to help him gain a foothold in Fengcheng. Although agreeing to cooperate with Li Bihan and her daughter would not harm the interests of the Shi family, it was still against Shi Huaiyi's wishes.
When asked about Shi Huaiyi's meaning... Fu Xuanliao frowned, lost in thought.
Thinking from multiple perspectives and angles, he asked Gao Lecheng, "What could be the reasons that a father might suddenly become exceptionally kind to his son, whom he had previously ignored?"
Gao Lecheng had a few drinks and his thoughts were quite unrestrained: "He either had a change of heart, his fatherly instincts kicked in, or he felt that his days were numbered and hoped that his son would take care of him in his old age and see him off in his final days."
Fu Xuanliao clicked his tongue: "Don't talk nonsense."
Unfortunately, this question was far beyond his experience. Gao Lecheng propped his head up and thought for a long time, then yawned and grumbled, "Then it can only be that he accidentally discovered that his son was his biological son and felt sorry for him. Isn't that how it's always portrayed on TV?"
Gao Lecheng is a man who talks nonsense all the time, and when he's drunk, he talks even more incoherently and says all sorts of things.
On the way back, Fu Xuanliao couldn't stand his nagging anymore, so he threw a pack of tissues into the back seat. Unexpectedly, even after being hit on the head, the guy didn't stop and started crying while holding the tissues.
"Xue, I've been so good to you, why won't you let me be your man?"
Fu Xuanliao felt a chill run down his spine upon hearing this, but couldn't help teasing, "You haven't won her over yet?"
Gao Lecheng said with a mournful voice, "Ugh, she thinks I have a lot of romantic history and that I don't uphold male virtues."
Fu Xuanliao chuckled: "You and she are equally bad."
"I...I will never go out and fool around again."
"Did you even believe what you just heard?"
"Of course I believe it. Why wouldn't I? People change."
After rambling on about meaningless things, we turned the corner and found the Crane Pavilion. We hadn't planned to stop, but a casual glance revealed a person standing at the entrance.
Tall and thin, wearing a white down jacket and a hat that obscured his face. Just as Fu Xuanliao was about to get a better look, a car drove past from the right-turn lane, blocking his view. Luckily, the light turned green ahead, so he turned back to continue driving.
After dropping Gao Lecheng off at home, on the way back, they passed Changning Road again, and the one person at the entrance of Heting became two.
I don't recognize the new guy. I didn't see him clearly before, but now that he's taken off his hat, I can see him clearly. It's Shi Meng. No wonder he looks familiar.
The two seemed to be talking, but it also seemed like a one-sided conversation between strangers, because Shi Meng kept hiding to the side, hunching her shoulders, and not daring to meet the other person's eyes.
Realizing it was just past midnight and already Saturday, Fu Xuanliao's eyelids twitched, and he stepped on the gas and quickly drove away from the scene.
After turning onto another road, the car gradually slowed down again.
Many questions flashed through Fu Xuanliao's mind. The first thing that came to mind was that Shi Meng was extremely shy. When strangers came to his house when he was a child, he would hide under the table.
Fu Xuanliao slammed his hand on the steering wheel, cursing himself for being so shameless, as he headed forward to find an intersection to turn around.
When the car stopped at Heting, they opened the door and got out. The two of them had become three, and the scene was even more chaotic.
The first person to spot Fu Xuanliao was a waiter at the Crane Pavilion. He looked somewhat familiar, but Fu Xuanliao only remembered that the man's surname was Xu.
Xu Zhi was taken aback for a moment, then jogged over, her face flushed red: "President Fu, what brings you here at this hour?"
Seeing that Fu Xuanliao was too busy to pay attention and walked straight ahead, stopping in front of the two people, Xu Zhi quickly followed and took the initiative to explain the situation: "These two guests are arguing at the door, and the supervisor sent me out to take a look."
As he spoke, his gaze swept back and forth between Fu Xuanliao and Shi Meng, trying to discern whether their relationship was truly consensual or merely a facade.
I heard from my colleagues' gossip a couple of days ago that the agreement between Young Master Fu and the Shi family is about to be dissolved. Although Xu Zhi doesn't know the specifics of the agreement, he thinks it must be related to this Second Young Master Shi. Maybe this is the perfect time for him to take over.
However, before Xu Zhi could figure anything out, the unfamiliar young man greeted him first: "Senior Fu, what are you doing here?"
Fu Xuanliao was taken aback by the way he was called "senior," glanced at the man with a slight frown, and still couldn't remember.
"I'm Zhang Hao, one year below you. We studied painting together for a few days in the art studio in the No. 3 Middle School's main building, remember?"
After this reminder, Fu Xuanliao finally remembered: "Oh, I see."
Their attitude was not warm, and they clearly had no intention of talking.
Zhang Hao awkwardly followed Fu Xuanliao's gaze to the person standing opposite him before continuing the argument that had been interrupted.
“Senior Fu, you be the judge. Isn’t this Shi Mu? He was the only one who stayed on out of the group of us who studied art together, and he’s an exceptionally good artist.” Zhang Hao pointed at Shi Meng and said, “It’s not easy to run into a classmate on the street, and he just won’t admit it!”
Hearing Shi Mu's name from a stranger, Fu Xuanliao was momentarily stunned, then looked at Shi Meng with a hint of mockery in his eyes.
"Oh? Let me see." Fu Xuanliao leaned forward, feigning observation. "Do you think you are?"
This question sounded baffling to others, but Shi Meng seemed to be genuinely pondering it.
After a long silence, he looked up and met Fu Xuanliao's gaze, throwing the question back at him: "You want me to be, don't you?"
When they returned to the car, Zhang Hao even came over to try and get closer to them.
"So Senior Fu is a regular at Heting. I'll come here often in the future, and maybe I'll run into him a few more times."
Xu Zhi followed, shyly telling Fu Xuan that Liaohe Pavilion would be open as usual during the Spring Festival; the implication was clear.
Zhang Hao glanced back and forth between the handsome boy outside the car and the even more handsome boy inside. He quickly abandoned his previous guess, grouped the two together, and said with his eyes downcast, "Well, Senior Fu, you're busy. Call the number on my business card when you have time. We can drink or play mahjong. I'm available 24/7."
Fu Xuanliao gave a vague "hmm," but it was unclear who he was replying to.
As he started the car, he suddenly remembered something, gestured with his chin toward Shi Meng sitting in the passenger seat, but spoke to Zhang Hao outside: "And this one, he stayed behind too."
Before Zhang Hao could react, she closed the window and drove off.
Once they left Changning Road and could no longer see Heting in the rearview mirror, Fu Xuanliao began to regret having inexplicably brought Shi Meng into the car a few minutes earlier.
The frustration in his heart made Fu Xuanliao feel unbearably hot. He reached out to lower the temperature, but stopped halfway through, as if he remembered something. When he withdrew his hand, his face was extremely ugly, as if he had swallowed two pounds of explosives, but they were stuck inside him and he couldn't vent them.
"Where to?" he asked impatiently.
Shi Meng thought for a moment and said, "Wherever you go, I will go."
"So you really came to see me?" Fu Xuanliao was both amused and annoyed. "Did you deliberately choose Saturday midnight?"
Shi Meng nodded first, then shook his head: "Today is not only Saturday, but also the first day of the Lunar New Year." As he spoke, he turned to look at the person in the driver's seat, "Happy New Year."
Much later, when Fu Xuanliao recalled that Spring Festival, the first image that flashed through his mind was the deep blue sky, the flickering lamplight reflected in it, and Shi Meng's gaze fixed on him.
A wisp of white fluff is filtered out from the rich blue, almost a frail white, and the smile is also faint, so faint that it seems that with a wave of the hand, he could be easily erased from the painting.
In that instant, a fear of impending loss suddenly rose in his heart, a fear a thousand times greater than the fear he felt when he received the photo of him on the verge of falling.
But this feeling lacked a source and was too fleeting, so fleeting that he didn't have time to experience it before it vanished without a trace, like fireworks scattered in the distant sky.
At this moment, the only thought that came to mind through the image, reflected in the eyes and fed back to the brain, was that they looked nothing alike.
Shi Meng was unlike anyone else, not even the person Fu Xuanliao had in mind.
As for what he originally looked like, it's indescribable and impossible to say.
Fu Xuanliao averted his gaze as if fleeing, replied with "Happy New Year," and then turned up the volume of the car stereo to let the music drown out the sounds that shouldn't be coming from his chest.
A clear, elegant male voice sang softly—
Loneliness also leaves a lingering fragrance.
So this is what it means to be moved by love.
The singing stopped abruptly as the driver switched to the next song.
I urge you to return home as soon as possible.
You said you didn't want to go back.
He only asked me to hold you.
Actually, Shi Meng doesn't understand Cantonese songs very well.
He stretched out his body in this hard-won moment of warmth, the lingering bruise on his shoulder pressing against the back of the seat, causing a dull ache, but he still quietly moved closer to the driver's seat.
Then, looking out the window through the glass, I thought to myself, trying to hide the truth, that another year has passed.
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