Bachelor Night
After getting into the car, Ying Zhu didn’t start the engine immediately. Instead, he went back to scrolling through his phone.
Feeling a bit neglected by his “fiancé,” Cen Xie asked, “What are you doing now?”
Ying Zhu: “Booking a registration slot.”
Cen Xie: “I thought we were going tomorrow? I assumed you already booked it.”
Ying Zhu: “Tomorrow is booked, but things change quickly. I think it’s better to settle this today if possible. I’m checking for cancellations.”
Unfortunately, Ying Zhu’s luck didn’t hold. He refreshed the page repeatedly, but it still showed that that day’s limit was reached. It seemed everyone was so confident in the institution of marriage that no one was backing out last minute.
Cen Xie leaned against the window, resting his face in his hand as he watched him. “You’re acting like you’re desperate to walk down the aisle with me.”
Ying Zhu didn’t answer, still obsessively refreshing the page. Given his status, he could easily have made a phone call to skip the line, but since the marriage had to be secret, he couldn’t use his influence.
Bored, Cen Xie began scratching the car window with his fingernails, creating a sharp, grating screech. Ying Zhu winced. “Be quiet. That sound is unbearable.”
Cen Xie muttered an “oh” and pulled his hand back. “Should we do a prenuptial agreement for our assets?”
Ying Zhu didn’t look up. “There’s no need for that.”
The answer was so direct that Cen Xie was stunned. His heart softened, and he sat up straighter. “Why?” he asked softly.
Ying Zhu: “You can’t take my money, and I don’t want yours.”
The momentary tenderness in Cen Xie’s heart evaporated instantly. He felt like an idiot for being touched for a second. He clicked his tongue. “Would it kill you to say something nice?”
Ying Zhu: “If I said something nice… I might as well have given you a proper proposal.”
Cen Xie reached for the window again but stopped himself. “A proposal isn’t necessary. But doesn’t this make tonight our last night as single men?”
Ying Zhu: “Mhm. Want me to hire a stripper for you?”
Cen Xie critiqued him: “Vulgar.” He paused. “We should at least have a meal together. How about Golden Vienna?”
Ying Zhu finally looked up at Cen Xie.
Cen Xie looked back, blinked, and then looked away. The movement betrayed a flicker of nervousness—fear of being rejected, or fear that Ying Zhu would say something else harsher.
However, Ying Zhu just looked at him for a moment and said, “Fine.” After all, everyone has to eat.
……
After taking their photos, they went straight to Golden Vienna. It was the same private room as before; from the table, they could see the city’s night lights. The atmosphere was peaceful, the music soothing. A neatly dressed server approached with the menu, and Ying Zhu took it naturally.
Cen Xie wasn’t picky about food, and Ying Zhu didn’t have specific dietary restrictions; he only cared about the freshness of ingredients and the skill of the cooking. In that sense, they were very compatible.
Ying Zhu reflected that they were actually quite suited to be a couple. Conflicts often arise from differing tastes, but their compatibility wasn’t something they had to work at—it was a seamless fit where neither had to compromise. Because of this, one person ordering was usually enough; the other would rarely be dissatisfied.
Since Ying Zhu was more familiar with Golden Vienna, it was natural for him to order. However, Cen Xie felt that since they were getting married the next day, it was time to assert some “spousal authority.” He wanted to show who was boss, so he made a rare request: “I want to order, too.”
Ying Zhu didn’t mind. He gestured to the waiter, who brought a second menu.
Cen Xie opened the menu and froze. It was entirely in English. His education was limited, and he recognized very few English words, let alone culinary terms. But he kept up appearances, pointing at random items like he was choosing targets: “This one, this one, this one… oh, and this one.”
He snapped the menu shut. Done. He had absolutely no idea what he had just ordered.
Opposite him, Ying Zhu, still studying the menu, let the corner of his mouth curl up slightly but said nothing. The server took the menus and left.
Cen Xie watched the server walk away, then turned back to Ying Zhu. “How many restaurants like this do you own? What’s the monthly profit?”
Ying Zhu raised an eyebrow. “Why are you asking?”
Cen Xie: “We’re getting married tomorrow. Shouldn’t we disclose our financials to each other?”
Ying Zhu: “I haven’t even asked you how much your betting rings and casinos make in a month.”
Cen Xie: “After dinner, I’ll take you to see the books.”
Ying Zhu looked at him for a moment, then looked away. “I have no interest in how many assets you have.”
He paused, then added: “After we’re married…”
The words felt incredibly awkward coming out of his mouth.
Cen Xie tilted his head. “Hmm? What about after we’re married?”
Ying Zhu: “As long as you don’t fall into debt, it’s fine.”
Cen Xie simply smiled at him.
The wait for the food was a bit dull, so Cen Xie brought up another point. “You said we can’t tell anyone about the marriage. I want to confirm one thing with you.”
Ying Zhu: “Mhm?”
Cen Xie asked: “Is it that I can’t reveal that I’m married, or I can’t reveal that I’m married to you?”
For some reason, Ying Zhu suddenly thought of Zhou Nan, and then of Cen Xie’s previous boast about how he’d sleep with Omegas or Alphas whenever he felt like it. The man’s reputation back at school hadn’t been great either…
Ying Zhu didn’t want to overanalyze why he felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of possessiveness. He didn’t actually think a “married” status would stop the people around Cen Xie, but after a short silence, he said: “You can tell people you’re married. Just don’t reveal that the person you married is me.”
Cen Xie nodded, indicating he understood.
As they spoke, the first course arrived. It was Cen Xie’s order. The waiter placed the plate in front of him and left.
Cen Xie stared down at the plate—which was larger than his face—but it looked completely empty, save for a dollop of sauce smeared along the rim. He looked up at Ying Zhu. “Is the chef at your restaurant forgetful? Did he forget the actual food?”
Ying Zhu glanced over, his mouth twitching. He hadn’t expected Cen Xie’s random pointing to land on that specific dish. He answered, “He didn’t forget. That sauce is the dish.”
Cen Xie made a face like an elderly man trying to read a smartphone screen. “What kind of dish is this?”
Ying Zhu looked slightly uncomfortable. “Lick Me.”
Cen Xie: “Speak Chinese.”
Ying Zhu picked up his tea, muttering vaguely, “Tian wo (舔我).”
Cen Xie raised an eyebrow and stared at him in silence.
Ying Zhu was forced to explain further: “That’s the name of the dish. ‘Lick Me.'”
Cen Xie gave an “oh” and looked back down. No wonder the sauce-like substance was placed on the edge; it was for the convenience of licking. He picked up the plate, stuck out his tongue, and took a lick. His expression instantly brightened. “It’s sweet!”
Two licks later, it was gone. The waiter arrived with Ying Zhu’s steak and took away the empty plate.
Cen Xie watched the plate go. “How convenient. You don’t even have to wash the dishes.”
As the owner, Ying Zhu had to refute such baseless slander: “Nonsense. Of course they’re washed.”
Cen Xie found the dish amusing and the taste was good, but it was just too small. He wanted another one. Seeing that he liked it, Ying Zhu called the manager over and instructed him to skip the fancy plating and just bring a whole bowl of it for Cen Xie.
Cen Xie enjoyed the special treatment of a “boss’s spouse,” digging in with a spoon. The honeyed taste was captivating. “Lick Me… Hahaha, what a name. It’s a good thing I’m eating this now; I couldn’t have eaten this as a kid.”
Ying Zhu: “Why?”
Cen Xie: “My tongue used to have a bit of a problem.” He opened his mouth and lifted his tongue to show Ying Zhu. “See that string under there?”
Ying Zhu: “The frenulum.”
Cen Xie: “Right, that’s the one. It used to be attached too far forward, or maybe it was just too short. Anyway, it meant my tongue was short, too—I could barely stick it out. Then one day it just broke, and it’s been fine since.”
Ying Zhu was confused. “You don’t know how it broke?”
Cen Xie: “Nope. It just… happened.”
Ying Zhu: “Is that even possible? You didn’t notice?”
Cen Xie shook his head dismissively. “I looked it up online. It happens. I even saw someone say that during a kiss, the other person sucked so hard the frenulum snapped! Hahaha, can you believe that?”
Ying Zhu thought to himself: Just how hard do you have to suck for that?
Then he realized something. The hand cutting his steak paused. He asked: “Your ability is Recovery. If you had appendicitis and got your appendix removed, would it grow back?”
Cen Xie looked dazed. “Holy shit… I never thought about that.” He pondered for a moment. “Probably?”
Ying Zhu leaned his chin on his hand, still holding his steak knife. “Then if your frenulum broke, why didn’t it grow back?”
Cen Xie’s hand stopped. After a moment, he looked up. “Maybe it broke before my ability awakened.”
Ying Zhu put down his cutlery. “Maybe?”
Cen Xie seemed to want to drop the subject. “I just don’t remember clearly. If it broke before the awakening, then it wouldn’t grow back, right?”
Ying Zhu suggested: “You could pull your past records from your artificial hippocampus right now and check.”
Cen Xie frowned. “Can we just have a nice dinner for once?”
Ying Zhu’s brow furrowed as he scrutinized Cen Xie. He felt the man was hiding something. Why was he so unwilling to check his memory data?
Cen Xie said nothing more and continued eating his “Lick Me” in silence.
He was lying. He actually remembered being mocked at Ark Academy for his lisp because of his “tongue-tie.” He had been scouted for Ark specifically because of his awakened ability, so the frenulum must have broken after the awakening.
But how? When? He truly didn’t remember. It was like not knowing when you got your first white hair or when a mole appeared on your arm.
The reason he didn’t want to pull the data now was… he didn’t want to ruin this “Bachelor Night.”
It was rare for them to sit down and eat a relaxed meal without discussing the missing memories, yet the topic kept drifting back there. It felt like they had nothing else to talk about. Couldn’t they have just one meal’s worth of time to focus on the present instead of a past they didn’t remember?
They already knew the memory loss started at Ark. Did it really matter how his tongue broke or why it didn’t heal?
Ying Zhu watched him for a while, decided not to push it, and went back to his food. After dinner, Ying Zhu signed the bill and they left.
Back in the car, it was only around 8:00 PM. Cen Xie asked, “Where to now?”
Ying Zhu didn’t suggest going their separate ways. Instead, he asked patiently, “Where do you want to go?”
Cen Xie looked down, fidgeting with a strand of hair on his forehead. “Are we really just… getting married like this?”
Ying Zhu turned to look at him, trying to guess what Cen Xie meant. There was a more direct way to find out; he could use his ability to peer into Cen Xie’s thoughts.
The moment the thought occurred, he did it.
Cen Xie jumped in his seat, his eyes wide. “What was that just now?”
He felt a distinct sensation of being watched—a chilling feeling of being seen through that made the hair on his arms stand up.
Ying Zhu kept his hands on the wheel and said nothing.
Cen Xie realized: “It was you.”
Ying Zhu gave a small “Mhm.”
Cen Xie: “That’s your ability?”
Ying Zhu: “One of them.”
Abilities are categorized into types. Ying Zhu was a Mental-type; mental suppression was a baseline for that type, with strength varying by rank and aptitude. Cen Xie’s was a Physical-type, characterized by explosive power and sharp reflexes.
Beyond types, there were unique personal abilities—like Cen Xie’s “Recovery.” Physical-types were best for close-quarters combat; combined with Recovery, they were nearly invincible. Most users only had one personal ability (Level 1). Only a rare few awakened a second (Level 2).
Cen Xie: “Is that your Level 1 ability?”
Ying Zhu: “No. Peering into minds is only my Level 2 ability.”
Cen Xie stared at him. If a Level 2 ability was something as god-like as mind-reading, what was his Level 1? He wanted to ask, but stopped himself.
Ying Zhu looked out the car window and suddenly opened the door. “Wait for me.” Without waiting for a response, he got out and disappeared.
Half an hour later, he returned to the driver’s seat and handed Cen Xie a small box. “For you.”
Cen Xie opened it and looked up at him.
Ying Zhu: “Didn’t you want a ring?”