Star did not understand why Vincent had to deal with him. He had only spent a little money; was he really that bothered by it? Because a certain part of him was aching terribly, he moved very slowly, especially when putting on his trousers, as his legs felt stiff.
Once he was finally dressed, he braced himself against the wall and headed to the changing room entrance, only for Vincent to sweep him up in his arms the moment he appeared. Vincent touched the back of his hand to Star’s forehead. “Does it hurt?”
Star instinctively shook his head.
Vincent carried him out of the changing room. Star did not want to be seen like this. “I can walk myself.”
“Do not move.” Vincent’s expression was grim, and Star dared not stir again.
Vincent carried him into the elevator, but instead of heading to their room floor, he went to the underground garage. Star huddled quietly, not daring to ask questions. When the elevator doors opened, a Rolls-Royce was parked there, and the driver opened the door for them. From that position, Star immediately noticed that several crystals were missing from the car’s starlight headliner. Recalling the crystals on the hotel nightstand, he instantly remembered the events of the previous day. He had ripped out over a dozen crystals, and Vincent had simply let him, not even bothering to stop him.
Star felt even more deflated. Before long, he became drowsy, his thoughts growing sluggish. Seeing Star’s flushed little face, Vincent realized he had a fever; he quickly took off his suit jacket to cover him and ordered the driver to hurry. The driver agreed repeatedly, pushing the accelerator to its legal limit.
Soon, the car stopped in front of a clinic with Chinese signage. Vincent carried him inside. The doctor had been briefed and opened the door to greet them. “To the first exam room.”
Star was not fully conscious, but he smelled the scent of disinfectant and mumbled, “No hospital.”
No one answered him. He was placed on a bed, but it was hard, and he let out a whimper of pain. When he felt a chill below, he instinctively covered himself. The doctor found it difficult to examine him. “This will not work. I need to take a look to understand the situation.”
Vincent flipped him over and pinned him to the bed, prying his hands away. “Do not move.”
Star refused. He knew there were others nearby and clung tightly to himself. When Star was stubborn, even Vincent found it difficult to manage him. Taking advantage of the moment, the doctor measured his ear temperature. “My god, 40 degrees?”
“What did you two do?”
Vincent held down the struggling youth. “It was a bit intense last night. He should be injured, and he ate seafood, drank alcohol, and went swimming afterward.”
The doctor was stunned, looking closely at Star’s face. “He is Chinese, right? If he had avoided even one of those things, he would not have burned up like this.”
Upon hearing the word Chinese, Star stopped struggling. His mind was filled with only four words: Cannot be exposed.
Cannot be exposed as what? He did not know, but he knew he could not be exposed.
Seeing the patient finally stop fighting, the doctor performed an examination. “There is a laceration, somewhat severe. Was the swimming in seawater or a pool?”
Vincent called Qin Yue and demanded he put Fabian on the line. “Mr. Vincent?”
Vincent asked, “Has Cipher been in contact with seawater?”
Fabian replied, “No, not at all.”
The doctor asked about the seafood, raw food, and the cleanliness of the pool. Finally, he turned to Vincent. “How much was the bleeding at the time? Just describe how saturated the tissue was.”
Vincent was stumped. “At the time, the lubricant we used was red.”
The doctor did not blame him. Once he had gathered enough information, he went off with the nurse to prepare medication. Star was already delirious, calling out for his father in Spanish one moment and his mother in Chinese the next. He rambled about a basement, the darkness, and blood, mixing several languages together. Vincent could barely understand him.
Basement? Vincent’s eyes darkened. The young man on the bed was thin and frail; one could feel his ribs just by brushing against him. What kind of abuse had he suffered? If he was a legitimate child, how could he have been abused to the point of being locked in a basement? Had his mother’s family fallen that far?
“Star…” Vincent noticed his lips moving but could not hear what he said. He leaned in close to listen. Star, like the stars from yesterday?
Vincent called the driver to come over and had him dismantle a dozen more crystals from the car’s starlight ceiling for Star to play with. Star held the cold crystals, feeling slightly better. “Star…”
Vincent stroked his flushed little face. “Yes, Star.”
The nurse brought over medicine and saline. Vincent took care of everything himself, washing him and applying the medication; if he knew how to give injections, he probably would have done that too. He had taken every precaution to avoid a hospital visit, yet here they were anyway. It was not easy to find someone who suited his tastes. A person like this should not be disposable.
Star went through several cooling patches and two IV bags before he finally regained some clarity. Yet, being awake was worse than being delirious; he ached all over, a sour fatigue radiating from the depths of his bones. He gripped his hands tight, and his palms stung. He opened his hands to find several crystals inside, staring at them blankly, unable to distinguish the present moment from the past.
Vincent brushed his forehead. “Are you feeling better?”
Star was dazed. “I want to watch Saw. I only saw half of it before.”
Saw? So the basement, the blood, was that all because of a movie? For some reason, Vincent felt a sense of relief. “We will watch it when we go back.”
“Okay,” Star replied obediently.
The doctor returned to check his temperature. “The fever has broken. You will need another injection tomorrow. In the future, you must be careful during intimacy and ensure you are properly prepared.”
Star truly wished he did not understand Chinese at that moment; his face turned so red he might have been burning at 40 degrees again. Vincent thanked the doctor and had the driver bring a blanket to wrap Star up securely. Star felt that as long as he was with Vincent, he would never have to use his own legs again. Not that he had the strength to walk; his whole body ached with a nauseating sourness.
The Christmas atmosphere on the road was intense, colorful lights flickering inside the car. Star did not know if it was past midnight, but he felt he had to say something. “Sir, Merry Christmas.”
Vincent straightened the silk wrapped figure in his arms. “This is a good Christmas present.”
Star’s ears flushed bright red. “I was inexperienced. It will not happen again.”
Hearing him say it was his first time eased Vincent’s frustration, but he still pinched Star’s cheek. “Why did you eat seafood when you were injured?”
There was no such rule in America about not eating seafood while injured. Star could only reply, “I thought I was not injured, just a little sore.”
Vincent’s expression froze for a moment before he slowly tightened his embrace, burying his face in Star’s neck. “My fault. I will be gentler next time.”
Star had not expected Vincent to apologize. After all, a benefactor was paying for the privilege; he had the right to do as he pleased. “It is okay, sir.”
In the kept man circle, many ended up in the hospital. If a benefactor simply dumped them on the driver, it was considered merciful. If the companion made a scene, the benefactor would only grow more annoyed. Vincent was not only caring for him personally but also maintaining such a level of consideration; Star felt it was already more than enough.
“I can walk myself.” When they reached the hotel, Star wanted to walk, but Vincent gave him no chance and carried him back to their room.
“Watch it.” Vincent placed the tablet in his hands; it was playing Saw. Star felt a physical aversion the moment he saw the screen, but he could not take back what he had said, so he had to bite the bullet and watch.
Room service arrived with a few dishes, all Chinese food. They were not exactly light porridges, but they were mild. Star had no appetite and only took a few bites.
“We are going back tomorrow.” Vincent brushed his forehead. “I am not returning to Pennsylvania. You should move; go to Las Vegas.”
Star did not seem to have a choice. It seemed Vincent’s true home was in Las Vegas, and his stay in Pennsylvania had merely been a business trip. “Okay.”
Vincent was satisfied with his obedience, yet felt uncomfortable with his excessive sense of self-effacement. “I will have people move your things for you. Is there anything I need to pay attention to?”
Star shook his head. “No.” He just hoped his neighbor, the pink-haired man with the bad leg, would not send him off when he moved.
Fortunately, Star had prepared in advance, decorating the room. He had thought that if Vincent ever wanted to visit or stay over, it would be difficult to explain an empty apartment. Now, his preparations were paying off.
Vincent held him as they slept. Worried about a recurring fever, Vincent woke up several times during the night, but Star proved resilient and showed no signs of a relapse. Star was awakened by Vincent’s movements several times. He actually found it quite strange; he had seen Vincent’s pillbox, a transparent container with pre-cut compartments that looked exactly like sleeping pills. But Vincent showed no signs of insomnia; if anything, he was the one who had fallen asleep on Star’s body just the night before.
Early the next morning, a doctor came to the hotel to administer Star’s IV drip. After two injections, Star felt much better; his body was still a bit sore, but he was mostly fine.
“How do you feel?” Vincent put down his tablet and went over to check his forehead.
Star gave a sweet smile. “I am fine. You should go handle your business, sir.”
Vincent sat on the edge of the bed and held his wrist, stroking the protruding bone. “I do not have much work left. I want to spend some time with you.”
Vincent was truly a gentle person, attentive and thoughtful, nothing like a typical benefactor. Star bit his lip and smiled as if to cover his thoughts. “Thank you for taking care of me, sir.”
Before Vincent could speak, the doorbell rang. Vincent went to open it, and a moment later, Qin Yue’s voice drifted in from the living room.
“Hurry up and get ready. I scheduled it for twelve noon.”
“Cipher is not feeling well. You guys go ahead.”
Qin Yue’s voice stopped abruptly, followed by a series of muffled arguments. Star did not want to ruin the trip for everyone, so he threw off the blanket, got out of bed, and opened the door to see the two large men.
“Sir, I am fine now. I want to go out and look around too.”
The slender young man wore blue-grey silk pajamas, his fair collarbones exposed. His semi-long mullet hair was messy, and the flush at the corners of his eyes mixed with that tear mole, making him look as if he had just been bullied.
Qin Yue stared, his voice trailing off. In that moment, his desire to take over reached its peak. With such a stunner around, there would be motivation to return home, especially with that charming, oblivious look. No wonder a cold, iron tree like Vincent had finally blossomed.