The assistant went without a second word.
“Oh my, did Song Xueyan reply?” Feng Zhui followed Yan Qi into the hotel lobby. “It’s so close to his home; taking the footbridge is even faster than driving.”
“It’s so hot, don’t let him get sunburned.” Yan Qi’s mind flashed with the image of Song Xueyan’s fair neck. “Snow, after all, fears the sun.”
“True. Although Song Xueyan isn’t a petty villain who plays dirty tricks, we are cooperating now, and he is a senior. We should be polite where we can.” Feng Zhui entered the elevator, looking forward to the future. “If you two can become close, and be a pair of cooperative and pleasant seniors and juniors, that would make for a great story.”
Yan Qi thought Feng Zhui was dreaming. “Look at his haughty ‘stupid mortal, stay away from me’ attitude. Can I possibly get close to him?”
Feng Zhui smiled. “Isn’t a person like that easier to get along with than those ‘fake nice’ people who are honey-mouthed but dagger-hearted?”
Having been in the industry for so many years and having seen all sorts of monsters and demons, he knew that many people were two-faced. Song Xueyan, who was cold and detached both in front of and behind the camera, might be difficult to approach, but was actually the easiest to deal with.
Yan Qi didn’t like to associate with people who were too calculating, so he agreed that Feng Zhui had a point.
Song Xueyan followed Xiao Bing into the elevator, pulling his only suitcase to his feet.
“The suite is on the top floor. It has three living areas, two bedrooms, a kitchen, a separate bathroom, a gym, a swimming pool… the facilities are complete, and everything you could need is there. If Teacher Song is dissatisfied with anything or needs something else, you can tell me, and I will go communicate with the hotel.”
The motorhome had been playing music earlier, so the silence hadn’t been awkward, but in this confined space, Xiao Bing deliberated on how to express a friendly attitude to the senior on behalf of his boss. Only because he was nervous, he spoke extremely quickly, like he was reading from a cheat sheet.
“Okay, thank you.” Song Xueyan looked at him. “What is your name?”
Xiao Bing was startled and hurriedly said, “Teacher Song, you can just call me Xiao Bing.”
“Is ‘Xiao Bing’ written on your ID card?” Song Xueyan asked.
Xiao Bing blushed. “No, it’s written as Xiao Bing —Xiao as in ‘zodiac,’ and Bing as in ‘character/nature.'”
Song Xueyan looked at the assistant’s round and cute face, thinking this nickname was quite realistic. He noted his name and said, “You don’t look very old.”
He’s going to check my background.
Xiao Bing exhaled and said quickly, “I’m 21 this year, a few days younger than Qi-ge. I’m 180cm tall and weigh 150 catties. Don’t let my round face fool you; I actually have muscles. Taking down one opponent with a single punch is not a problem. I studied Advertising at Nandu University. After graduation, I was selected as an outstanding student, and I have always maintained the good attitude I had while studying. My background is clean; I have no criminal record. My parents are both alive, and I have one older brother at home.”
The elevator doors opened. Song Xueyan walked out and said, “An outstanding student.”
Xiao Bing caught the subtext and said solemnly, “My career plan is to become an excellent agent. Qi-ge chose me from a list of assistant candidates, so the company arranged for me to learn and grow under Zhui-ge’s leadership, starting as Qi-ge’s assistant and personal agent.”
Song Xueyan found him clever and tactful, so he said, “Keep it up.”
The assistant blushed and said, “With your encouragement, I will work twice as hard!”
“Heh.”
Yan Qi leaned against the doorframe, his lighter performing a fancy trick in his fingers. He watched the two of them, one following the other. “You’re chatting so happily.”
Xiao Bing stepped back cautiously. “Just exchanging pleasantries on your behalf.”
Song Xueyan dragged his suitcase to Yan Qi’s side. One foot was already over the threshold when he suddenly stopped. He sniffed lightly, leaning in to smell Yan Qi’s neck.
Song Xueyan’s soft hair brushed against Yan Qi’s chin. Yan Qi stiffened; his back bumped against the door with a “thud,” and the lighter in his hand was so startled it fell into his palm.
The intimate contact lasted only a second before Song Xueyan stood straight again, saying with 70% certainty, “Are you wearing perfume?”
The lighter wobbled in his palm before steadying. Yan Qi said with a calm expression, “Yeah, how does it smell?”
“It’s okay, but the previous you smelled better.” Song Xueyan exerted force on his wrist, pulling the suitcase into the room, leaving Yan Qi at the door looking confused.
Previous? I wasn’t wearing perfume before!
Feng Zhui came out of the bedroom, smiled at Song Xueyan, and said, “I’ll have to trouble you for this week, Teacher Song.”
“It’s no trouble, it’s my duty.” Song Xueyan nodded to Feng Zhui and pushed his suitcase into another bedroom.
Feng Zhui knew Song Xueyan’s temperament and didn’t try to force intimacy. He checked the suite, confirmed everything was correct, and then turned to Yan Qi. “Get along well with Teacher Song. If you need anything, contact me anytime.”
“Got it.” Yan Qi handed the lighter back to him and leaned in to ask, “Does my perfume smell worse than before? What did I smell like before? Explain it from both the scent profile and olfactory perspective, and then compare them in detail.”
Feng Zhui thought back.
Before Song Xueyan came upstairs, Yan Qi had pulled a bottle of perfume from his bag, pressed one pump toward the window, spun around in a circle to take a “perfume sunbath,” then sneakily dabbed two dots behind his ears. He then stood in front of the mirror to fix his already perfect hair, flashed a set of white, neat teeth, and murmured, “So handsome.”
This “face the enemy” demeanor made Feng Zhui suspect: Was Yan Qi stimulated by Song Xueyan and refused to let his own beauty be second-best, wanting to be the most dazzling delicate flower in the room?
He understood the competitive nature of young people and soothed him, “Don’t worry. Your temperament and appearance are not on the same path as Teacher Song’s; there won’t be any competition. Not to mention the vast difference in your statuses—you aren’t qualified to worry about this for the time being.”
“What are you spouting nonsense for?” Yan Qi was speechless. “I asked you what I smelled like?”
Feng Zhui thought for three seconds and said, “Peacock-scented.”
Yan Qi was stunned, baffled. “Peacock? What does that smell like?”
Feng Zhui didn’t answer; he walked out of the room, turning to close the hotel door and Yan Qi’s follow-up questions behind him.
Xiao Bing happened to pass by the living room carrying two pots. He kindly tipped him off, “Peacock spreading its tail a ‘flamboyant’ smell.”
Song Xueyan brought very few things—other than his usual charging cables and medicine bottles, the rest were just clothes. Thus, he unpacked quickly. He walked to the bedroom door and happened to hear this, which made him chuckle.
But the smile only stayed for a fleeting second. He regained his calm expression, adjusted his shirt buttons, and walked out of the bedroom.
Just as he was about to give the assistant a lecture on “Workplace Emotional Intelligence: How to talk to your boss to make him double your salary,” he turned and saw Song Xueyan. Teacher Yan instantly choked. He coughed and urged Xiao Bing in a low voice, “Hurry up and get to work.”
Xiao Bing was tactful. “You got it, Brother.”
Song Xueyan looked around unhurriedly.
Yan Qi’s guitar and tablet were leaning against the sofa. The coffee table was piled with a bunch of car keys, interspersed with a very eye-catching ceramic doll version of Yan Qi. Next to the keys stood a bucket of round, tea-brown drink he couldn’t tell if it was wine or tea.
Xiao Bing was busy at the island; the double-door refrigerator was wide open. Ingredients and drinks gradually filled the fridge. All the pots and pans provided by the hotel had been replaced with Yan Qi’s own set of cookware, which were a grade more exquisite and expensive.
The young master looked like he had come for a long vacation, with his scent permeating every corner of the common area.
Seeing Song Xueyan’s gaze finally fix on the island and linger there, Yan Qi couldn’t help but feel perplexed: It was clearly he who was about to live with Song Xueyan, so why was Song Xueyan only looking at Xiao Bing, while he himself had become a wisp of air?
Usually, he didn’t intend to stand out, but today he didn’t want to be ignored. Yan Qi coughed.
No one paid attention.
He coughed again.
Xiao Bing leaned over to look, concerned: “Qi-ge, is your throat uncomfortable? I put lozenges in your bedside drawer; you can go take one!”
“Uh…” Yan Qi’s tone was unhappy. “I’m fine! I can hit a high C the moment I open my mouth.”
Over here, Song Xueyan walked to the island and pulled out a high stool to sit down. He looked at the row of pots very seriously, trying to analyze the differences. Unfortunately, his limited life experience was insufficient to support his thinking, so he simply asked, “Why are there so many?”
Xiao Bing was startled and hurriedly turned sideways, reporting like a subordinate: “Frying pan, hot pot, wok, small milk pot, soup pot, air fryer… Teacher Song, don’t look at them as just pots; each has its own strengths!”
Song Xueyan couldn’t understand. Who cares about their strengths? Aren’t they all for cooking?
Xiao Bing glanced at the displeased Yan Qi and said cleverly, “Qi-ge is a person who understands life very well. Even if it’s just a temporary stay at a hotel, he has to live it to the fullest.”
He remembered that Song Xueyan had only brought a 20-inch suitcase and hurriedly added: “Living it to the fullest is one kind of brilliance, and simplicity isn’t necessarily not an attitude. Teacher Song traveling light seems like one lifestyle, but it actually shows your broad-mindedness, hiding all things in your heart, and your carefree, water-like elegance.”
What a bootlicker!
Yan Qi couldn’t bear it anymore. “It’s almost one o’clock.”
“It’s time for me to go.” Xiao Bing closed the fridge appropriately. Before leaving, he didn’t forget to express goodwill to the future partner on behalf of his boss. “Teacher Song, have a good rest tonight. If you need anything, you can call me anytime.”
Yan Qi thought: Why call him? Am I dead?
Oh, wait—doesn’t he have his own assistant?
Unexpectedly, Song Xueyan not only nodded and accepted but also took the initiative to exchange WeChat numbers with the little assistant.
The two looked at each other. Song Xueyan said “Goodbye.” Although still cold, one could feel warmth; Xiao Bing’s face turned red, his eyes shone, and he drifted away as if stepping on clouds.
Yan Qi was an outsider, full of confusion and unwilling to let it go.
The door “slammed” shut. Yan Qi lifted his foot and walked behind Song Xueyan. He hadn’t yet considered what to use as an opening line when the other turned around.
“It’s getting late. We need to join the script reading session at 3:30 this afternoon. You should have some lunch.”
Song Xueyan’s tone didn’t carry the slightest personal emotion, so Yan Qi caught the underlying implication: Lest your stomach get hungry and delay work progress. He gave a barely audible huff and said, “What about you?”
Song Xueyan got up, ready to leave. “I won’t eat.”
Why should I eat while you don’t? Are you saying you won’t get hungry and delay work progress? Although there are 179 tiers between us, we are both the first-billed male leads this time. Why the double standard?
Yan Qi inwardly despised this workplace injustice, blocked Song Xueyan’s path, rolled up his sleeves, and said in an indisputable tone: “I’m cooking, you’re eating.”
“Fine.” Song Xueyan sat back down.
Yan Qi opened the fridge and turned to Song Xueyan: “What do you want to eat?”
Yan Qi had posted photos of his home-cooked meals on his social media a few times—they were visually appealing, and the young master loved refinement; the dishes and presentation were very sophisticated. Song Xueyan, through his “Age of Poverty” secret account, understood at least 80% of Yan Qi’s living habits and culinary skills.
He walked over and stared at the rich variety of ingredients for a while. He didn’t really want to eat anything, but he still pointed to the box of beef closest to him.
“We don’t have a lot of time. Since you want this, I’ll make a beef hot pot.” Yan Qi was very considerate. “It’s already hot, and we have to read lines all afternoon. We need to protect our voices, so let’s not make it spicy. Tomato and beef, how about that?”
It didn’t matter to Song Xueyan what he ate, but he raised his brows, revealing a faint glimmer of anticipation. “Good. Thank you for your hard work.”
The two were facing the fridge, the cold air hitting their bodies. But for some reason, Yan Qi suddenly felt his heart jump and a wave of heat surge up.
He looked at the beautiful, upturned corners of Song Xueyan’s eyes, thinking it might be because Song Xueyan was standing too close, or perhaps because it was the first time he had seen “anticipation” on Song Xueyan’s face it felt novel, so this wave of heat was named “surprise,” and it even carried a sense of triumph he couldn’t even explain himself.
Yan Qi purposely picked a fight. “I asked you to choose, and you did. Are you so sure I can do it?”
“Do you think this confident look of yours is faked?” Song Xueyan lifted his lids and looked him in the eye. “Effortless and smooth—much like you were when racing earlier. So, naturally, I believe in you.”
Fuck! Song Xueyan is praising me!
Yan Qi curled the corners of his lips, finally experiencing the same feeling of drifting on clouds that Xiao Bing had felt when leaving.
“Your taste is too good. My cooking is at the level where a five-star hotel chef would have to take off his hat and respectfully call me ‘Master Yan’.”
Song Xueyan thought that if emotions could be personified, Yan Qi’s tail had already grown out of his butt, held high, and swinging around. He gave an “Hm” that made it impossible to tell if it was a casual reaction or an affirmation, and made as if to reach for the beef box. “I’ll help you.”
Yan Qi said there was no need. “Go sit and meditate on the high stool.”
“Okay.” Song Xueyan didn’t understand the push-and-pull of superficial social manners at all; he immediately withdrew his hand, turned, and left the cold air zone.
What a real, straightforward man.
Yan Qi gave a “Heh” in his heart and shook his head with a smile.
He took out the beef box and was just about to reach for the tomatoes when he felt a cool touch sweep across his lower back.
Song Xueyan’s hands brushed past his waist; in a daze, it felt as if he had embraced him from behind.
“I’ll help you tie your apron.”