The moonlight outside the window was hazy.
He Qian gripped the pillow, buried his face in the crook of his arm, and bit down on his skin. All his degradation and resistance eventually lost their strength; the teeth clamped onto his arm gradually loosened.
The melodious sound of bells chimed, ding-dong, ding-dong.
Underneath the pillow, the corner of an envelope peeked out. It was a letter, a letter from Xia Tianming.
When He Qian woke up the next morning, his palms were sweaty with heat. He instinctively tried to pull his hand back, but in the next second, it was seized and pressed firmly back onto Zhou Xuying’s well-defined abdomen.
Zhou Xuying’s eyes carried a warning.
He Qian flinched.
As they moved, the bells jingled. He Qian was dazed for a moment before remembering that this was last night’s “gift.” Those wretched bells had kept him awake with their noise all night!
“Sleep a little longer.”
Zhou Xuying ruffled He Qian’s black hair as he stood up. With his back to He Qian, he began putting on his suit.
The warm sun outside was piercing. He Qian squinted his eyes, and just as he was about to turn away, he was once again drawn to the tattoos on Zhou Xuying’s back.
They were truly bizarre. No normal person would tattoo an open-eyed woman, a coffin, and that Yin-Yang mask that looked like traditional opera face paint onto their body.
While He Qian was lost in thought, Zhou Xuying turned around. He straightened his tie with one hand and slid the other into his pocket, meeting He Qian’s gaze directly.
“Today is New Year’s Day. I am taking you out to meet some people.”
“Meet who?”
Zhou Xuying only gave a faint, enigmatic smile without providing a real answer. He walked out of the bedroom with his long legs, stretching his neck as he left.
Zhou Xuying lit a cigarette and walked toward the study. He pushed the door open with one hand and sat at the computer, backing up all the exhilarating photos and audio from the previous night onto a hard drive. He printed out the photos and tucked them into an old book.
The pages flipped open.
When the book opened, it was filled with various photographs. Every single one was of He Qian. They were all taken over the past two months. He had taken it upon himself to treasure everything regarding He Qian.
Zhou Xuying’s fingertips brushed over a photo. He picked up a pen and wrote the date and a line of text at the bottom. He leaned down and kissed the photo, his expression hauntingly morbid.
After He Qian finished washing up, he went downstairs for breakfast. The hand holding his spoon was trembling.
As a servant passed by carrying a trash bag, they asked the housekeeper earnestly, “When did the Zhou residence get smoked meat? I remember the last time I went shopping, the smell was too strong, so I did not buy any.”
He Qian remained silent.
The high-salaried chef also walked over, looking puzzled. “Why did my large pot suddenly turn black?”
He Qian said nothing.
He pursed his lips and remained silent, drinking his porridge faster and faster. His tongue went numb from the heat. The housekeeper glanced at He Qian’s guilty-looking back, coughed twice, and dismissed the staff.
He Qian’s face turned grim as he set down his chopsticks. Just then, Zhou Xuying came downstairs, and He Qian found himself unable to leave.
Zhou Xuying instructed the housekeeper, “Prepare two gifts.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
As the housekeeper went to fulfill the task, Zhou Xuying walked to the dining table. He sat down with his long legs spread and tapped his lap lightly, signaling for He Qian to sit.
He Qian sat on Zhou Xuying’s lap, his toes barely touching the floor.
“I need to go to the office for a while. I will pick you up this evening.”
“Mm.”
He Qian’s response was distracted. Zhou Xuying bounced his leg slightly and cupped He Qian’s chin. “What do you want to ask?”
“Where are we going tonight?”
Since Zhou Xuying had asked for two gifts on such a special holiday, He Qian could not help but overthink. There were some places he was simply unwilling to set foot in.
“Do you want to make a bet with me?”
“A bet? What kind of bet?” He Qian looked confused.
“A bet on whether the place we go tonight will make you happy.”
Zhou Xuying spoke casually, sounding extremely confident. He Qian did not think Zhou Xuying could win. Given the two gifts and the timing, there were only three possibilities: a friend’s house, going back to the family home, or a formal banquet. None of those would make He Qian happy.
Therefore, his victory was certain.
“Fine. I get to choose the stakes.”
“Go ahead.”
“If I win, you let me go.” He Qian’s eyes were cold.
Zhou Xuying’s hand stiffened; his gaze turned dark and ruthless. He Qian was always thinking about leaving.
“And if you lose?” A cold smirk played on Zhou Xuying’s lips.
There was no such “if.” He Qian held a natural advantage. Whether he was happy or not was something he decided himself, so he could not lose.
Zhou Xuying continued, “If you lose, you must fulfill one excessive request of mine.”
He Qian asked, “What request?”
Zhou Xuying smiled. “You will find out tonight.”
For some reason, a chill ran down He Qian’s spine.
“Call my name.”
Zhou Xuying withdrew his hand. He Qian called his name over and over. Perhaps because he was afraid, the end of his tone trembled, sounding unstable. Only when he was cursing did his voice sound grounded.
Yet Zhou Xuying never tired of it. Such a voice, if heard in a different setting, would provide a completely different sensory stimulation. He Qian was not willing to do it. But Zhou Xuying had heard it last night. It turned out that only when a person was completely exhausted would they drop their disguise.
Zhou Xuying looked down and drank some millet porridge. He adjusted his coat, wiped his mouth with a handkerchief after eating his fill, and stood up. He Qian stood up as well.
His tall, straight figure stood before He Qian. When He Qian looked straight ahead, he could only see Zhou Xuying’s chest; his field of vision was mostly blocked.
Zhou Xuying was 190 centimeters tall, much taller than He Qian. Combined with that muscle mass, Zhou Xuying could easily hoist him up. He Qian’s thin body simply could not withstand it. When his feet were dangled in the air and he was pressed against the wall, his back would often be bruised red.
In Zhou Xuying’s words, he was too fragile.
Zhou Xuying’s hand brushed He Qian’s jaw, tilting it up. He praised, “You have been very obedient lately.”
He Qian had stopped running.
But Zhou Xuying knew that He Qian’s escape plan had never actually stopped. He Qian would search for shipping routes during computer class, look up maritime jargon, and visit the library to study the history of maritime development in Lin Hai City. He Qian was finding a way out for himself.
If possible, he could certainly wait until graduation, get a full scholarship, and go abroad to leave Beijing and Zhou Xuying. But he could not pin all his hopes on one thing. If one day Zhou Xuying went mad and hurt him, or if something spiraled out of control, He Qian needed to be able to flee. At the very least, he could not be like the first time, lacking even the most basic plan.
“I know I cannot escape,” He Qian said.
Zhou Xuying’s gaze turned cold. “You do not know.”
Zhou Xuying smiled meaningfully. “I will make sure you know.”
Zhou Xuying left. He Qian stood frozen in place for a long time. The words Zhou Xuying said before leaving echoed repeatedly in his ears. Does Zhou Xuying know something?