“Xiao Qi?”
Despite nearly five years having passed, Min Zhuozhou recognized the man instantly. A complex wave of emotion rippled through his eyes, appearing particularly profound in the thick, golden haze of the sunset.
So this is Xiao Qi?
Ji Subai recalled the mysterious man who had aggressively spammed the live chat on the first day of filming, generating several trending topics for the variety show.
“Surprise~”
A captivatingly dangerous smile curved Xiao Qi’s lips. He swept his gaze slowly down Min Zhuozhou’s figure, his voice a lavish blend of flippancy and tenderness. “Long time no see, Zhuozhou, baby.”
It had indeed been a long time.
Min Zhuozhou’s mind drifted back five years. After a brief moment of astonishment, he spoke. “I heard you were returning to the country soon, but I didn’t expect you to arrive so quickly.”
“I just got off the plane. My luggage is still in the car…” Xiao Qi’s tone was suggestive. He paused before adding, “I couldn’t wait a single second longer to see you.”
The turmoil in Min Zhuozhou’s eyes subsided. He chose to ignore the underlying meaning in Xiao Qi’s words.
Xiao Qi paid no mind to Min Zhuozhou’s reaction to his appearance. Instead, he spared a glance for Ji Subai, who had remained silent beside him. With a leisurely tilt of his head, Xiao Qi greeted him as if he already knew his past. “Mr. Ji, I’ve heard a great deal about you.”
As Ji Subai met the man’s gaze, he sensed a hidden sharpness beneath his carefree, sugar-coated demeanor. The man’s nonchalant eyes held a cool indifference, somewhere between “disgust” and “disdain.”
Ji Subai’s heart suddenly sank. This look was so unfamiliar yet so hauntingly familiar. It instantly transported him back eight years, to when he was still “Ji Xiaobai”, a time when he had nothing to his name but his passable looks. He had grown accustomed to looks like Xiao Qi’s back then.
Does he know about my past? Ji Subai’s heart tightened.
He knew nothing of this man who had dropped from the sky, but he knew Pei Che was fiercely protective of his personal information. After that staged car accident, Pei Che’s obsession with privacy had become nearly absolute. As a result, almost no one knew of Ji Subai’s original identity. Yet Xiao Qi’s slightly mocking and derisive gaze seemed to say, I see right through you.
His identity is terrifying.
This was Ji Subai’s first impression of Xiao Qi.
Yet, Min Zhuozhou’s next words created a subtle discrepancy with that impression: “I thought you’d stay abroad forever, great playwright.”
“I wanted to, of course. But who’s to blame? There’s no Min Zhuozhou abroad.”
Xiao Qi spread the ambiguity thick and unashamed, but then immediately drew the line, turning to the little Minhua sitting on the swing beside them. He gave her a lively smile. “No wonder Auntie Tang Liu always praises you when I chat with her. How did you become so likable?”
Xiao Qi and Tang Liu had been on good terms since college, so Min Zhuozhou wasn’t surprised they kept in touch privately. But to think even Minhua was mentioned so often… Min Zhuozhou raised an eyebrow, a faint ripple of unease stirring in his heart.
“I’m not trying to deliberately ‘watch’ you, Zhuozhou baby,” Xiao Qi said, as if he could read minds, effortlessly pinpointing exactly what was bothering Min Zhuozhou. He curved his eyes gently, his tone half-serious, half-joking. “But longing is addictive. Even the smallest things about you can satisfy my craving.”
“Xiao Qi…” Min Zhuozhou looked at him, taking in the man’s peacock-like flamboyance. A helpless smile touched his lips. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Hmm,” Xiao Qi narrowed his eyes in pleasure, his tone deceptively humble. “I’ll take that as a compliment on my consistency, rather than a jab at my lack of restraint.”
His gaze swept over their surroundings, deeming the location hardly suitable for a reunion. “Why did you come all this way without a car? Getting a cab is a hassle. Come with me, I’ll drop the kid off at the Min Residence first. Then tonight… would you mind hosting a welcome dinner for me?”
Before Min Zhuozhou could refuse, Xiao Qi’s eyes curved into a smile as he added, “As friends, of course.”
Min Zhuozhou paused. Though Xiao Qi had cut Ji Subai off, he had still understood the man’s intent, or rather, the way he was trying to “guide” him toward a certain conclusion. Such probing was tedious to him, and he refused to let a few words get under his skin. Instead, he remained unflappable, dialing Pei Che’s number once more.
The phone rang for a long time before automatically disconnecting. Ji Subai stood nearby, watching coldly. A flicker of smugness crossed his face the moment the ringing stopped.
Min Zhuozhou raised an eyebrow, a hint of regret in his eyes. I guess I can’t get out of this meal after all… he thought. Still, he had things to discuss with Xiao Qi anyway, so he decided to accept the invitation.
Xiao Qi stepped aside and made an unusually flamboyant gesture of invitation. Min Zhuozhou didn’t bother with pleasantries; he rose, exchanged a few polite words with Ji Subai, and took his leave.
Ji Subai and Xi Nan remained where they were. Ji Subai watched the two men’s retreating backs, his expression a complex mix of amusement, wariness, and an indefinable trace of jealousy.
Xi Nan, who had been standing silently beside him like a background prop, finally spoke up timidly after everyone had left. “Brother… can I go sit on the swing for a bit?”
He gazed longingly at the swing Min Zhuozhou and Min Hua had just occupied.
“What’s so fun about this?” Ji Subai frowned slightly, glancing at the swing. His tone was flat. “Don’t just copy everything they do. What good does playing with this do for you?”
Xi Nan’s hard-won courage deflated like a pricked balloon. He gave a docile “Oh,” lowering his head to stare at the children’s leather shoes on his feet, a limited-edition luxury brand, polished to a mirror shine by Ji Subai.
About half an hour later, Ji Subai finally saw a car pull up, but it wasn’t the Bentley Pei Che drove.
Ji Subai wasn’t surprised at all. He had tried calling Pei Che’s cell phone earlier, but no one answered. When he called the office, his assistant informed him that Pei Che had an urgent meeting and had postponed all other appointments. His earlier display of playing hard to get had been solely intended to make Min Zhuozhou feel uneasy.
A mere stand-in who had occupied Pei Che’s side for five years, Ji Subai thought. I can’t stand to see him living comfortably.
A driver stepped out of the car respectfully, announcing he was there to take him to a private sanatorium for a checkup.
Ji Subai calmly refused, giving his home address and instructing the driver to take him straight back.
“Young Master Ji, the itinerary the Boss arranged isn’t…” The driver’s face clouded with difficulty. He hesitated before speaking again, “I won’t be able to report back properly if I don’t take you there.”
“Is that so?” Ji Subai smiled faintly, his expression exceptionally innocent and naive. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“This…” The driver gritted his teeth, then said with a humble attitude, “I understand. I’ll take you home right away.”
Ji Subai smiled with great satisfaction, his gaze even holding a hint of encouragement for the driver’s “quick comprehension.” He deliberately left the driver waiting on the spot for a moment before slowly and deliberately getting into the car, his posture haughty and condescending.
Meanwhile, Xiao Qi drove all the way smoothly to the Min Residence to drop off Min Hua.
With a child in the car during the journey, Xiao Qi had consistently held back. Only after Min Zhuozhou sent the child home and returned on the same route did he reveal his burgeoning ambition to conquer his prey.
Min Zhuozhou came out of the Min Residence and returned to the car. He had originally intended to sit in the back seat as before, but found that the rear door wouldn’t open no matter how hard he tried. Immediately after, the driver’s side window slowly lowered, revealing Xiao Qi’s half-smiling eyes.
He rested his hand on the window ledge, his chin pillowed on his arm, and said softly, “Zhuozhou, baby. Front seat.”
Min Zhuozhou complied without a word, walking around the car to open the passenger door and slip inside with a faint smile.
Xiao Qi turned to look at him. “What are you smiling at?”
“Smiling at how damn high-maintenance you are.”
Min Zhuozhou kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to meet the other man’s intense, burning stare. He leaned back into the passenger seat, completely relaxed, and closed his eyes to rest. “Just drive. Wake me up when we get there.”
Xiao Qi chuckled. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll just drive straight home and lock you up?”
Without opening his eyes, Min Zhuozhou replied, “Not afraid. You don’t have such poor taste.”
Xiao Qi raised an eyebrow noncommittally, silently mouthing the words, That’s not so certain.
Recording for two straight days hadn’t been particularly exhausting, but Children’s Hearts Towards the Distance was, after all, a baby variety show. With so many children involved, there were constant safety risks. No matter the intensity of the tasks, his heart had been on edge the entire time. Now that it was all over, he finally let himself relax, and a bone-deep weariness began to seep into his marrow.
Young Master Xiao, though treated as a chauffeur the moment he returned, wasn’t in any hurry. He turned on the car’s audio system to play a soothing track and drove off steadily. He couldn’t resist stealing a glance at Min Zhuozhou’s profile as he spoke. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m back?”
“As if you’d ever tell me the truth if I asked,” Min Zhuozhou said, his voice flat and calm. “But if you have too much money, you should donate it to charity. And if you’re bored, maybe go troll people with bullet comments… but that doesn’t seem like you.”
“Life is short, and I’m doing what makes me happy.”
Xiao Qi brought the car to a smooth stop at the red light. One hand on the steering wheel, he used the other to pinch the bridge of his nose. “His name is… Zhao Tongyan, right? I didn’t get it wrong. I’ve already made the call. He’ll be replaced next episode.”
Min Zhuozhou’s brow furrowed slightly. He lifted his gaze to look at Xiao Qi but said nothing.
Xiao Qi met his eyes. “What?”
Min Zhuozhou sighed. “Young Master, you should use your privileges sparingly. I could have handled this myself. There was no need for you to get your hands dirty.”
“Give me a break, I know you too well,” Xiao Qi said, releasing the brake and smoothly pulling the car back into traffic. “You’re too lazy to deal with it. Now that someone’s taking out the trash for you, you’re probably feeling a whole lot lighter.”
He paused for a moment before continuing, “Are you worried about owing me? Afraid I’ll use this to make demands?”
Min Zhuozhou blinked, his expression unreadable. “I’ll stick to my original opinion: you’re not that tasteless.”
Xiao Qi drawled, “What does taste have to do with chasing someone? I can’t help but think that if I’d been a little more ruthless back then, maybe we would have ended up together. Then I wouldn’t have had to suffer five years of longing for you day and night.”
Min Zhuozhou smiled, his teasing tone laced with a faint, sharp edge. “Xiao Qi, you were already bastard enough back then.”
“That’s why I said I could have been even more of a bastard,” Xiao Qi replied, unruffled. He corrected Min Zhuozhou’s words with deliberate precision. “But we were both the same back then, you were the libertine, and I was just playing around. In the end, we split up and went our separate ways. Neither of us has any right to blame the other, right?”
“True enough.”
Min Zhuozhou’s gaze flickered. He had always enjoyed talking to Xiao Qi. Even after five years, with their relationship now reduced to the awkward status of “exes,” he could still calmly take in all of the man’s nonsense, even finding a strange sense of kinship and mutual understanding.
They were like mirrors to each other. Because they saw through each other’s most honest selves, they could be completely uninhibited.
“So, I’m a little curious…”
As Xiao Qi turned the steering wheel at the intersection, he caught Min Zhuozhou’s eye in the rearview mirror. A smile, so intense it was almost aggressive, spread across his lips.
“Just who is this ‘divine being’ who managed to pluck every single one of my little rose’s thorns over these past five years without getting a single scratch?”