His words were ambiguous, leaving many confused, but out of respect for Bo Yu, they only smiled ingratiatingly. The others didn’t understand, but Gu Qichi did.
The air conditioning was strong, causing the fine hairs on his neck to stand on end. Gu Qichi frowned, lowering his eyelashes to focus on the black shirt he was wearing.
This shirt was the one he had taken from the other man that day. The silk felt smooth, sophisticated style and clean cut — one touch was enough to tell it was expensive. Gu Qichi didn’t care about details; he simply found it comfortable and felt it would be a waste to throw away.
People who frequented the Yunting Hotel were all wealthy and powerful, let alone those who could dine on the top floor. This shirt was probably more expensive than all the clothes in his wardrobe. When he saw it in the closet this morning, he didn’t think twice, simply put it on and left, never expecting to run into the man from that night.
Or rather, Dongcheng was so big, Gu Qichi never imagined they’d meet again. He just hadn’t expected him to be so petty, haggling over a piece of clothing.
Gu Qichi didn’t reply, silently following behind Lin Shuangyi, trying to minimize his presence. He didn’t like these kinds of situations — clinking glasses, fake smiles, and sordid thoughts underneath.
But coincidentally, he happened to be sitting opposite Bo Yu. Every word, every action, was completely exposed to the other’s scrutiny.
Anyone else stared at like that by someone they’d once been intimate with might have turned cold and thrown a tantrum, but Gu Qichi wouldn’t. In his previous life, he’d always lived under the spotlight; he was desensitized to such gazes. Moreover, he had long been prepared to treat the other person as a complete stranger.
At this moment, Gu Qichi seemed oblivious to him. The noisy, ingratiating laughter continued, but Gu Qichi unconsciously erected a high wall around himself, quietly eating.
It must be said, the food at this restaurant was quite good, much better than the disastrous dishes he made at home.
Bo Yu leaned back casually in his chair, the cigarette between his fingers unlit, then tossed aside. He clearly had no appetite, but watching Gu Qichi eat was a pleasure, even making his own appetite rise.
He was a picky eater. Bo Yu’s fingertips lightly tapped the table, his gaze sweeping over the dishes Gu Qichi hadn’t touched. He didn’t eat eggplant, onions, or some raw seafood; he didn’t eat cooked cucumbers or carrots, but he loved fish. When Gu Qichi ate his favorite dish, his peach blossom eyes would curve into crescent moons, his eye bags would puff out.
Like a satisfied cat.
Bo Yu’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he closed his eyes briefly. He felt inexplicably thirsty. He needed to calm down. He put down his chopsticks, got up, and went into the corridor.
Gu Qichi’s appearance didn’t escape Bo Yu’s notice, nor did it escape others.
Wang Fu was the investor responsible for liaising with the “Lucky Sky” production team. Bo Yu generally didn’t interfere in entertainment matters, leaving them to subordinates. But for Wang Fu, Bo Yu’s indifference was his greatest advantage. The role of Shen Qingye was originally intended for his mistress, but suddenly someone messed it up. His mistress had been crying in his bed for two days.
For some reason, today Wang Fu felt a restless itch. He sat not far from Gu Qichi, light and shadow dappling Gu Qichi’s face. He drank two more glasses of wine; alcohol numbed his brain.
Taking advantage of Bo Yu and Lin Shuangyi’s absence, Wang Fu seized the opportunity, approaching Gu Qichi with a toasting vessel.
Gu Qichi was focused on his meal, having just ladled a bowl of white mushroom soup and sipping slowly. Suddenly, a shadow fell, and a stench of smoke and alcohol assaulted his nostrils. Gu Qichi’s brow twitched, and the porcelain spoon clattered to the bottom of the bowl. His throat tightened, a wave of nausea rising.
The pain, deliberately ignored, spread through his body. He clutched his abdomen, coldly staring at the man before him.
Wang Fu sat in Lin Shuangyi’s seat. He flicked the rim of the glass, slurring. “Are you taken?”
He reached out to touch Gu Qichi’s thigh.
Wang Fu had never seen anyone as handsome as Gu Qichi. His upturned, captivating eyes were stunning, his nose high and straight, and a smile played on his lips — like a seductive fox spirit. Yet his aura was exceptionally pure, like first snow.
“Gu Qichi, is it? You drink this glass, come with me, and from now on you’ll live the high life, you can have any resources you want. I’ll protect you, okay?”
Gu Qichi didn’t say a word, his eyes fixed on Wang Fu’s outstretched hand. It was filthy, disgusting.
There was an unopened bottle of red wine on the table. Gu Qichi quickly calculated the price and the subsequent medical expenses, then sighed. Luckily, he had some savings.
His arms were thin, his wrist bones prominent, but not gaunt; muscles well-defined. He actually had a knack for dealing with people who tried to take advantage of him. First, kick them down, then smash a bottle over their necks.
His fingers curled slightly — he realized he really enjoyed solving problems with violence.
Unfortunately, he didn’t get to stand up and pick up the bottle, nor did Wang Fu’s hand reach him.
The sound of expensive leather shoes tapped on the ground, and suddenly a hand with distinct knuckles appeared before him. Unlike his own, these hands were larger and even stronger.
Bo Yu entered his line of sight. The man first restrained Wang Fu’s struggling hands, then kicked over the chair Wang Fu was sitting on. The sound of a heavy object hitting the ground rang out, accompanied by a shrill scream.
“Are you looking for death?”
Bo Yu’s voice was actually quite pleasant; Gu Qichi had heard it before, hot and passionate. But now it was like a layer of ice.
With the immediate danger gone, Gu Qichi finally lifted his eyelids and examined Bo Yu. Still that face that perfectly matched his aesthetic. Bo Yu was wearing a sharply tailored black suit today, and coincidentally, the shirt underneath was exactly the same. He had high brow bones, deep-set eyes, a high-bridged nose, and pale pink lips.
He reached out and offered a snow-white handkerchief, which had a cool, woody scent.
“He didn’t touch you, did he? If you were touched anywhere, you can wipe it off.”
Gu Qichi didn’t refuse and readily accepted. “No. Thank you.”
Bo Yu stared intently at him, watching him calmly wipe his hands.
Wang Fu, after being kicked to the ground, sobered instantly. Everyone in Dongcheng knew the head of the Bo family was insane. During the years of power struggles within the Bo family, Bo Yu, alone, endured countless open and covert attacks, yet ultimately turned the tables, ousting his illegitimate brothers and taking control. None of the old patriarch’s mistresses and illegitimate sons fared well.
Bo Yu despised nothing more than the exchange of money for sex. Thinking of this, Wang Fu trembled uncontrollably. He tried to grab the man’s trouser leg, but Bo Yu kicked him, breaking his ribs.
“Get out.”
Wang Fu was swiftly taken away by security. The table fell silent. No one dared to have any designs on Gu Qichi anymore, nor dared to utter a word against his role.
Only Bo Yu noticed something was wrong with Gu Qichi. His hand was still pressed against his stomach, his lips pale, forehead covered in a fine sheen of sweat.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
Gu Qichi was taken aback. The stomach pain that struck him last night had been a struggle he’d forced to endure. He hadn’t eaten for many days, but today his appetite had been good, and he’d eaten a bit more. He hadn’t expected his stomach to ache so fiercely.
Cold sweat poured down his back.
He removed his hand from his stomach, looked up at the man, and said coldly, “You’ve mistaken me for someone else. May I go home now?”
Bo Yu frowned, observing his expression, his tone firm: “No, I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No need, I’m not feeling unwell. Could you move aside?”
The man didn’t move, blocking his way. After all, this man was now his sugar daddy, and had just helped him. Gu Qichi couldn’t refuse, so he sighed and yielded.
“I’m going to the hospital. Can you move aside now?”
Bo Yu was finally satisfied.
Bo’s Maybach was spacious, with genuine leather seats. The raised partition blocked the view from the rear cabin. Gu Qichi leaned back, lazily daydreaming. The Maybach sped along, yet remained smooth. Countless neon lights flashed before his eyes, his gaze gradually hazy. He didn’t even realize when he had fallen asleep.
When consciousness returned, his head bumped against the car window. Thud. His bangs drooped.
Gu Qichi was still somewhat dazed, his eyes filled with blank confusion. Bo Yu had been watching him, wanting to brush aside his bangs to check if he was injured.
Gu Qichi slowly got up. His shirt, already ill-fitting and far too large, hadn’t been noticeable when tucked in, but now it suddenly slipped out. The interior was dimly lit, casting a hazy glow on his body. His movement was subtle, yet he unexpectedly lifted a corner of his shirt, revealing a section of his waist and abdomen. Dazzlingly white. And a fading dark red mark.
Bo Yu’s gaze fixed on it, his throat tightening. He asked in a hoarse voice, “Didn’t you apply any ointment? Why hasn’t the mark faded?”
Gu Qichi raised an eyebrow, a casual glint in his eye. Though he didn’t speak, the meaning was clear.
Bo Yu understood easily.
Gu Qichi was cursing him.
“You still know you’re a beast?”