The bruised spot was just below the side of his arm. Qiu Mian pressed his right hand against the crook of his elbow and turned his head to look, inadvertently exposing the beautifully curved butterfly blades of his back.
Chi Jianying: “”
He couldn’t help taking a step back, his hand lingering suspended in mid-air, unsure whether to help or pull back.
“It hasn’t turned purple yet.”
Qiu Mian searched around, finding no visible wound, yet touching it brought a distinct sensation of pain. He tilted his head, his expression perplexed, as if his subconscious believed that without discoloration, there shouldn’t be any pain.
Chi Jianying had no choice but to ask, “When did you get hurt?”
“On the plane.”
“You were on Flight LA1718?”
Lowering his long eyelashes, Qiu Mian calmly and steadily uttered an “Mn,” as though he were merely discussing a routine daily matter, entirely devoid of any sense of how heart-pounding that experience had been.
Chi Jianying was somewhat astonished, yet that also explained why Qiu Mian had appeared here.
Of course it was just a coincidence; it couldn’t have been an intentional approach.
Yet as he stared at Qiu Mian’s snow-white skin for a long while, he found it difficult to convince himself to let go of his suspicions.
“It takes a couple of days to bruise and swell. Apply a cold compress within 24 hours to relieve the pain first.”
Finally, Chi Jianying spoke slowly, “Let’s go. Want to find a doctor?”
“Forget it.” Qiu Mian refused, pulling his collar back into place. It wasn’t that he realized the gesture was overly intimate; he simply found it a hassle.
He rubbed his arm, deciding that as long as he didn’t touch it, there was basically no feeling, and the dull ache remained well within a tolerable range.
Then, lifting his gaze, he locked eyes with Chi Jianying and asked bluntly, “What do you want?”
Clearly, Qiu Mian’s mood wasn’t great. He radiated a prickly, “do not disturb” air of resentment, much like a cat resting quietly that gets annoyed by someone petting its fur. Without saying much more, he dropped his lower lip in a subtle pout and stared straight at him.
Chi Jianying hadn’t actually planned on saying anything in particular; he had simply been feeling out of sorts and wanted someone to distract him. But interrogated like this, he felt compelled to voice his thoughts: “Eating snacks in the middle of the night—don’t artists need to control their caloric intake?”
Qiu Mian widened his eyes slightly, a rare look of unexpected surprise crossing his features. The reason he hadn’t turned back earlier was precisely to destroy the evidence; though it was only a small packet, it was something Wei Pu had no business monitoring anyway.
Why was someone else trying to manage it now?
What was more, “I’m hungry.”
It had been ages since his in-flight meal, and he had expended so much physical energy in between. Qiu Mian’s statement was delivered with complete and utter righteousness.
“Fair enough.”
Chi Jianying had just woken from a long dream himself, completely losing track of time, and the nutritional tablet he had swallowed earlier was still manufacturing a false sense of fullness in his stomach. Accustomed as he was to nitpicking his subordinates, his tone had come off sounding a bit overly patriarchal.
He gave a light cough and pretended nonchalance: “Those things aren’t filling anyway. Do you like duck? I’ll have some duck soup ordered for you; it’ll warm your stomach for the night.”
Qiu Mian furrowed his brows: “Why are you treating me? Do you owe me money?”
His focus remained delightfully eccentric.
“Yes.” Chi Jianying managed to keep up with his train of thought after racking his brains for an excuse. “Your watch was left behind at Guyi Building.”
“That was room service fees; I’ve already settled the bill. Consider the extra a tip for you.”
Qiu Mian found it bizarre. He was certain he had made things crystal clear to the front desk clerk; most likely, this person simply suffered from poor reading comprehension.
Chi Jianying: “”
Unbelievable. This was his very first time encountering someone proactively throwing money at him.
What was this supposed to be? Cinderella’s glass slipper?
“If there’s nothing else, goodbye.” Qiu Mian made to slip away again.
“As you like.”
This time, Chi Jianying didn’t try to keep him; after all, he lacked any proper excuse. But just as he raised his wrist to check the time, Qiu Mian, who was brushing past him, suddenly took two steps back and returned, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at Chi Jianying’s left hand.
“Why are you wearing fingerless gloves too?”
“Too?”
Chi Jianying was utterly speechless. Surely his identity wasn’t that easy to forget, to the point where even wearing gloves was considered some mainstream trend? What was this, a collection of street pedestrians?
He snapped irritably, “I’ve always worn them. Thank you.”
Qiu Mian lowered his head to conduct a meticulous inspection, discovering that they genuinely looked identical to the style Jiuying wore, though apart from being made of solid black leather, they possessed no particularly striking features.
He raised his head again, sweeping his gaze up and down over Chi Jianying.
Though he suffered from facial blindness, recognizing people through other features wasn’t too difficult for him. Besides, this wasn’t some special superpower; children could accurately pick out their parents from a crowd just by their backs, and many fans studied every single mole on their beloved idol’s body. If Qiu Mian set his mind to it, he could naturally pull it off.
Unfortunately, his interest in Jiuying hadn’t yet reached the level of paying attention to silhouettes and moles; he only vaguely felt that their heights and builds seemed roughly similar.
Yet that proved nothing, seeing as he possessed an average stature himself.
Thus, Qiu Mian decided to investigate from an angle he could distinguish.
He reached out and grasped Chi Jianying’s left hand, intending to flip it open, remove the glove, and examine the palm prints.
To his surprise, Chi Jianying instantly reacted as if facing a formidable enemy, swiftly jerking his hand back: “What are you doing?!”
“Just looking.”
Chi Jianying stared back at Qiu Mian with sharp vigilance, as though he had finally confirmed the man harbored illicit intentions—what kind of sudden hand-holding was this anyway?
Tch, if he won’t let me look, I won’t look. Qiu Mian withdrew his hand.
Of course, part of the reason was also that he suddenly noticed Chi Jianying’s wristwatch was worn on his left hand, suggesting he was most likely right-handed, whereas Jiuying evidently favored his left hand.
Moreover, Chi Jianying hadn’t made a single comment about this outfit of his that made his identity so easy to expose.
Pondering for a moment, Qiu Mian asked again, “What do you think of this outfit of mine?”
Although this was already Qiu Mian’s best attempt at imitating “tactful conversation” after years of studying how to comprehend subtext, compared to the abruptness of “Have you ever seen me in a dream?”, it still lacked a certain normalcy.
How did the conversation pivot to clothes? Chi Jianying was dumbfounded, his overactive brain spinning into high gear.
What does this mean? Is he hinting at something? It really is nice, good-looking, flatters the figure, but why bring it up out of the blue? Is he referring to the clothes or the body? Is he talking about taking clothes off just now? If I say yes, does he want to take it off and give it to me? If I say no, does he want to take it off and throw it at me?
Following a whirlwind internal defense drill, Chi Jianying’s face turned frosty as he coldly spat out: “Samuel Browne’s early autumn new release, designed entirely with mulberry silk, comfortable fabric, slim fit, but the hand-painted pattern is overly cluttered, and the details incorporate Christian symbolic motifs. It was never destined for official public platforms; it can only be worn in private.”
He delivered a sharp, professional critique from the perspective of a domestic fashion designer, addressing both the pros and cons while maintaining an absolute, impartial attitude and stripping away all confounding variables!
“?”
Qiu Mian found the explanation utterly baffling. Still, the details didn’t matter; knowing that Chi Jianying had never seen him in a dream was enough.
As expected, it couldn’t possibly be him. Jiuying probably wouldn’t even have been able to choke out a speech that long.
Consequently, Qiu Mian curled his lip and prepared to bolt once more: “Speak more directly next time. Bye-bye.”
So knowing he got rejected means he’s giving up on pestering me?
Just as Chi Jianying was thinking this, he suddenly heard the sound of snapping twigs from a distant patch of bushes. Involuntarily glancing over, he spotted a young woman leaning on a single crutch and wrapped in bandages. Having lost her balance, she hopped a couple of times, yet didn’t forget to grip her DSLR tightly, her finger clamped on the shutter button as if indicating she had been snapping photos right up until that moment.
“Paparazzi?” Chi Jianying furrowed his brow deeply, thoroughly displeased. What legitimate reporter operated in such a sneaking, covert manner? He had never held any fondness for people who resorted to crooked, unorthodox paths.
Yet Qiu Mian glanced over at the sound as well, and this time he actually recognized her: “Oh, it’s you.”
Chi Jianying: “”
Having had her hiding spot exposed, the stalker had no choice but to step out into the open, though her level of excitement at that moment was beyond imagination! She felt like someone scratching a lottery ticket and suddenly discovering they’d won a hundred million!
With adrenaline skyrocketing, she seemed oblivious to any pain as she tossed aside her crutch and hopped forward on one foot. Her gaze darted back and forth between the two men, flickering with a knowing, conspiratorial gleam: “Qiu Mian! I will continue to support you! I’m not a dream-girl fan; I’m a career-first stanner! No matter what you’re doing this for, remember—CAREER!! CAREER!!! I will support you! I’ll support you forever!!!”
Chi Jianying: “”
Qiu Mian: “?”
Only heaven, earth, and certain mysterious forces knew that the stalker had grown so unhinged because, while skulking in the bushes, she had vaguely caught fragments of conversation like “bruised,” “duck,” and “settled the room fee.” Coupled with a blurry visual sequence of arm-grabbing, shoulder-exposing, and hand-holding, her seasoned brain had instantly synthesized a twisting, melodramatic soap-opera narrative and successfully convinced herself of its truth.
“I’ll keep it a secret! I won’t say a word!! Don’t worry! Don’t worry!!”
She had even figured out how she’d keep her lips sealed.
Chi Jianying: “”
Qiu Mian: “?”
Though Qiu Mian had no idea what she was so excited about, nor what secret she needed to guard so fiercely, compared to the lifeless depression she had radiated at the airport, this bouncing, energetic state probably counted as back to normal. So he simply nodded: “Off you go.”
As long as she didn’t cause trouble.
Crying out a string of “Ahhhhhh,” the stalker scrambled away in a chaotic, ecstatic dance of wild joy.
Qiu Mian turned to leave as well, but was grabbed by the wrist right below his bruised spot by Chi Jianying.
Chi Jianying spoke with ferocious intent: “Aren’t you going to explain that person to me?”
Qiu Mian found it even more absurd: “Can’t you even understand that? My fan.”
Wei Pu hadn’t been wrong after all; this person was mentally unstable if he couldn’t even comprehend plain speech!
Mistaking this for an admission that he was orchestrating a stunt, Chi Jianying was practically fumed into laughter: “So you deliberately hired someone to hide and take pictures? And if you got exposed, you’d brush it off as a ‘fan’ to get away with it? No wonder… no wonder…!”
No wonder he put on such a hypocritical act, dropping his collar on one side while grabbing hands. He had wondered who would pretend not to know him at first only to completely disregard personal boundaries later—it had all been deliberate!
The more Chi Jianying thought about it, the angrier he grew. Staring fixedly at Qiu Mian’s peerlessly handsome face, he hoped to unearth a shred of embarrassment at having his cheap tactics exposed, only to find utter, complete tranquility mixed with a hint of impatience.
His emotional resilience was truly off the charts!
“Fine,” Chi Jianying gritted his teeth. “Never see you again. Go find someone else to trick.”
With that, he turned on his heel and strode away first.
Not long after, Wei Pu came running over with gauze wrapped around his forehead, calling out from afar: “Mianmian! I’m all set! We can go!”
Upon drawing closer, he gestured with his chin toward the direction Chi Jianying had departed: “Who was that person talking to you just now? I only saw his back.”
“A patient with severe delusions.”
“Uh, he didn’t look like he was wearing a hospital gown though?”
“Because I was scolding him.”
Qiu Mian narrowed his eyes, silently shifting his jaw and grinding his teeth three times.
…Whoa, he’s actually taking it very seriously and getting mad! That guy is doomed.
With his worldview broadened, Wei Pu stared in shock, casting several more glances in that direction.