He was so startled that he froze for a moment before stammering, “G—good evening.”
Li Ru’s “life mentor” demeanor vanished instantly. Now, with Wei Zhenye standing there so composed, she suddenly felt like a chatty aunt. She forced an awkward smile. “Good evening, good evening.”
Wei Zhenye’s eyes swept past her, cold and indifferent, then he looked away without a word. He pulled out the chair beside He Zheng and sat down.
As he moved, another man who’d been hidden behind him came into view. Their eyes met—deep-set, mixed-blood features, and a lazy, curious smile.
From the first time He Zheng saw him on a video call, to hearing from letters that he’d tattooed Wei Zhenye, and now seeing him in person—He Zheng had always had a good impression of Yang Cheng. It wasn’t easy for someone to get along with a solitary person like Wei Zhenye.
A fair hand suddenly blocked his view, cutting off the eye contact.
“How long are you planning to stare?” Wei Zhenye said coolly. “I’m here right next to you, and you’re still looking?”
He Zheng turned his head away, unsure what to say. He bent down, pulled a beer from the box, popped the cap, and the metal lid clattered on the table for a long while before it settled. Only then did he slowly push the bottle toward Wei Zhenye.
Wei Zhenye didn’t touch it. “I drove here.”
Li Ru looked between them and tentatively raised her hand. “I can call a driver for you two.”
“No need.” Wei Zhenye hooked the bottle cap with his finger. “I’ll take him home first, then go back.”
The implication was clear: you can leave now.
Li Ru took the hint. She nodded, gave He Zheng a thumbs-up of encouragement, then stood to go. But when she caught sight of the box on the floor, she quietly grabbed three bottles before leaving, looking pleased with herself.
Once she was gone, Wei Zhenye’s shoulders noticeably relaxed, though his expression stayed calm. He reached for the bottle. Unlike He Zheng, who drank in fits and starts with emotion, Wei Zhenye tilted his head back and downed half of it in one go.
The bottle hit the table with a thud. Just as He Zheng opened his mouth to speak, Wei Zhenye picked it up again and kept drinking—he didn’t want to hear him talk.
He’d already heard enough when He Zheng was talking to Li Ru.
He and Yang Cheng had arrived just after Li Ru and had sat at the table right behind them. Though it was Li Ru who led most of the conversation, every word, every pause, and every sigh from He Zheng had fallen clearly into his ears.
He’d felt a flicker of relief when He Zheng said, “It’s not like I don’t feel anything for him either.”
But before that, He Zheng had said, “I don’t like him that much.”
That part—was crushing.
He couldn’t help wondering if maybe he just hadn’t done enough. Maybe that was why He Zheng only liked him a little. Yang Cheng had laughed at him, saying he was as pitiful as a dog: Don’t kid yourself, even He Zheng’s mom doesn’t love him as much as you do.
He’d already done everything within his power. But He Zheng was just that kind of emotionally distant person—someone he couldn’t catch, couldn’t warm up. He’d thought that changing their relationship status might change things. But he’d forgotten—the one who changed was always him, never the person he loved.
The more he thought about it, the more it burned inside him—a fierce frustration that felt like fire feeding on dry wood. The alcohol burned hotter than He Zheng’s lukewarm affection, roaring to consume him.
Bang! The bottle slammed down hard on the table. He Zheng looked at Wei Zhenye, his face suddenly pale, his fingers tightening until the joints stood out, faintly trembling.
“What’s wrong?” He Zheng asked in surprise. “Do you feel sick?”
Wei Zhenye shook his head and reached into his pocket for a cigarette. But after fumbling a few times, he froze—he had the cigarettes, but something else was missing. Realization hit him. He turned stiffly toward He Zheng.
He Zheng took a small black box from his jacket and looked back at him. “You forgot this.”
Wei Zhenye took it and opened it. The ring was still nestled quietly inside its slot, but the inner inscription had shifted slightly. Almost without thinking, he asked, “Did you take it out and try it on?”
He Zheng nodded. “Mm.”
“Does it fit?”
“It fits.”
“Then why aren’t you wearing it?” Wei Zhenye’s voice was low. “Because you don’t like me enough?”
The words were heavy with implication. He Zheng caught it immediately. So after all that, they had come back to the same topic.
“You already heard, so I’ll be direct,” He Zheng said first. “My thoughts are what you heard. I can wear the ring. We can try dating. If it feels right, I’ll try to like you more.”
Wei Zhenye’s face barely changed. “And if it doesn’t feel right?”
“Then I’ll take it off.” He Zheng looked down at the ring—his tone meaningful.
“So you’re forcing yourself for my sake?” Wei Zhenye asked, his lips curving faintly. “If you don’t like me enough, why force it? What’s the point?”
He Zheng only said one thing: “I want to try.”
His voice wasn’t loud or soft, but it carried a quiet seriousness. Wei Zhenye tilted his head, studying him for a long moment, searching his expression for any hint of a lie—but there was none. He Zheng just looked at him openly, neither hiding nor pretending.
Wei Zhenye finally asked, “Are you really ready to be in a relationship?”
He Zheng thought he meant emotionally, and nodded.
“Think about it again,” Wei Zhenye leaned back in his chair, half-squinting, his gaze on He Zheng gradually taking on a different tone. “There are a lot of things couples do together. You’d better weigh that carefully before you nod.”
He Zheng froze for a second before realizing what he meant. His face instantly grew hot, and he said awkwardly, “As long as it doesn’t go that far.”
Wei Zhenye pretended not to understand. “What do you mean?”
“…” He Zheng pressed his lips together. How was he supposed to explain that?
Wei Zhenye chuckled faintly, tone indifferent. “Don’t worry. It won’t go that far. I know my limits.”
He Zheng was just about to respond when the chair beside them scraped loudly against the floor, the harsh noise breaking in.
Yang Cheng sat down, legs spread wide, arms lazily crossed over his chest. “You two done talking? I’m tired.”
The words were addressed to Wei Zhenye, but his eyes were locked directly on He Zheng.
Wei Zhenye tossed him the car keys. “You go ahead.”
“If I leave, what about you two? It’s hard to get a cab at this hour.” Yang Cheng slung an arm over the back of He Zheng’s chair, leaning in with a grin. “Had a good time drinking? Want me to take you home?”
No sooner had he said it than a dark, icy stare cut across the space—sharp enough to kill.
He Zheng quietly pulled back, widening the distance between them. “You can take Xiao Wei home. I’ll just call a cab myself. Thanks.”
“No,” Wei Zhenye denied flatly. “I want to make sure you get home safely.”
“Then I’ll drive. You two sit in the back, deal?” Yang Cheng stretched lazily. “We’ll drop He Zheng off first, then head back to the hotel.”
Wei Zhenye glanced at his watch. It was almost four in the morning.
He got up, and He Zheng stood as well. The car was parked not far away. Just before getting in, Wei Zhenye took a phone call. Yang Cheng had been following behind at a relaxed pace, but once Wei Zhenye turned a corner to find a quieter spot to talk, Yang Cheng quickened his steps to catch up to He Zheng.
Suddenly, someone was walking beside him. Then a phone appeared in front of his face, screen brightness turned all the way up, the glowing QR code almost blinding.
“Scan me,” Yang Cheng said simply.
He Zheng frowned slightly, declining politely. “You can ask Xiao Wei to share my contact with you.”
Yang Cheng clicked his tongue. “Just adding you, nothing else.”
He Zheng felt it wasn’t quite appropriate, but since Xiao Wei had helped him many times before, refusing outright felt impolite. Reluctantly, he pulled out his phone and halfheartedly scanned the code, sending a friend request.
Yang Cheng accepted instantly and patted his shoulder. “Thanks.”
Wei Zhenye was still on the phone, waiting by the car. As He Zheng approached, Wei Zhenye reached out and opened the door for him. Even while still talking on the phone, he placed his hand against the car frame to keep He Zheng from bumping his head as he got in.
He Zheng murmured softly, “Thanks.”
Wei Zhenye followed into the car.
Even though Yang Cheng hadn’t drunk, he drove like he had—speeding and braking with the intensity of a roller coaster. The car surged and jolted, and the alcohol churned violently in He Zheng’s stomach. One more sharp brake, and he’d have thrown up all over Wei Zhenye’s pants.
Wei Zhenye seemed completely unfazed, as if used to this. After hanging up his call, the first thing he did was glance at He Zheng. His hair fell messily over half his face as he held his stomach, swaying back and forth with every sudden stop.
He and He Zheng spoke at the same time: “Slow down.”
Yang Cheng looked at He Zheng in the rearview mirror, snorted lightly. “Got it.”
Wei Zhenye rolled the window down a bit, letting the cool night air blow in. He Zheng tucked his long hair behind his ear, but a few stubborn strands slipped loose again. Just as he raised his hand, someone gently gathered the hair from his shoulders, gathering it into a low ponytail.
Then he heard Wei Zhenye say, “There’s a hair tie under the passenger seat. Pass it to me.”
Yang Cheng handed it over, expression unreadable. He Zheng’s thoughts weren’t simple either.
Wei Zhenye had done more for him than he ever realized—the custom-made ring, the ready-to-use hair tie—how many times had he imagined moments like this, down to such small details?
Wei Zhenye’s movements were slow and careful, tender as if handling something precious. His arm lifted, and from He Zheng’s angle, he could see a sliver of ink through the gap of his shirt sleeve—a bamboo leaf tattoo in dark green.
He Zheng poked his arm lightly. “Did that hurt?”
Wei Zhenye hummed. “A lot.”
Yang Cheng immediately exposed him. “Cut the act. You slept like a baby when I tattooed that.”
“Do you have to run your mouth all the time?” Wei Zhenye retorted, clearly irritated. “Would it kill you to shut up for once?”
Yang Cheng widened his eyes. “That how you talk to your old man?”
Wei Zhenye: “Get lost.”
Yang Cheng laughed, half angry, half amused. “When we get back to the hotel, I’ll make you taste toilet water, you little punk.”
Wei Zhenye, deadpan: “Reflect it back to yourself.”
The two bickered back and forth, voices rising.
He Zheng fingered the hair tie and tried to cut in. “Turn left at the next light. My place is just past it.”
As soon as he spoke, Wei Zhenye dropped his playful tone and focused on him again. “Are you free tomorrow?”
He Zheng had originally planned to go back to his rental apartment the next afternoon, but with Wei Zhenye showing up tonight, his plans were already disrupted. “Yeah,” he said.
“I want to introduce you to a director. Will you come?” Wei Zhenye paused briefly before adding, “The one I was just on the phone with.”
He Zheng hesitated. “Is it… another drinking meeting?”
“Yeah.”
He had only attended such gatherings early in his career. Though it was still just drinking, the kind of atmosphere in the entertainment circle was nothing like the casual night stalls he was used to—it made his skin crawl. And sometimes, the things that happened at those tables were simply not the kind of things he could stomach.
Sensing his hesitation, Wei Zhenye said reassuringly, “I’ll be there.”
He Zheng thought for a few seconds, then finally nodded.
The traffic light turned green. Yang Cheng drove through the intersection, then pulled over by the curb, pointing toward a gated apartment complex across the road.
“Here?” he asked.
He Zheng made a small sound of acknowledgment and said thank you. When he opened the car door and was about to get out, someone tugged lightly at the hem of his shirt. He turned around to look at Wei Zhenye. “What is it?”
Wei Zhenye’s expression was complicated. “You’re just going to leave like that?”
“Otherwise?” He Zheng asked in confusion.
“At least you could…” Wei Zhenye trailed off. He had to remind himself again and again that He Zheng had never been in a relationship—he didn’t understand, didn’t know how to act.
He finally released the hem of He Zheng’s shirt. “Forget it. Go ahead. Let me know when you get home.”
He Zheng stared at him quietly for a moment, then turned around. As if suddenly realizing something, he pulled Wei Zhenye into a hug.
Wei Zhenye placed one hand behind He Zheng’s head and the other around his waist, deepening the embrace. He sighed helplessly beside He Zheng’s ear, his tone a mix of affection and exasperation. “I’m not reminding you next time.”