During the second half of the opera, Arthur was essentially nothing more than a decoration.
He didn’t hear a single word of what was being sung on stage. All of his senses and all of his attention were concentrated entirely on his left hand, which was being held by Shen Yanzi.
That hand was dry, warm, and well-defined, possessing an indisputable strength that completely enveloped Arthur’s own. The thin layer of callus on the pad of Shen’s thumb rubbed slowly against the back of Arthur’s hand, once and then again.
Every light stroke felt like a faint electric current, surging through his skin and into his blood vessels, crackling all the way to his heart until his whole body felt weak and his head spun.
He wanted to move, even if just to slightly adjust his sitting posture, but he found that his body simply wouldn’t obey. He was as stiff as a stone; only his heart hammered wildly and erratically against his ribs. The sound was so loud he suspected the entire private box could hear it.
Secretly and with agonizing slowness, he turned his head, wanting to see Shen Yanzi’s expression.
The other man remained focused on the stage. The lines of his profile appeared exceptionally cold and hard in the dim light, as if the hand performing such “wicked deeds” under the table didn’t belong to him at all.
Only occasionally, when the stage lights shifted and swept across his face, did Arthur seem to catch a glimpse of an incredibly subtle, almost invisible upward curve at the corner of his lips.
This discovery made Arthur’s face burn even hotter.
He’s smiling?
He’s actually smiling!
This “closet” flirt! This ice-face! He’s definitely doing this on purpose!
Arthur’s heart was filled with shame and annoyance, yet it was also mixed with a massive, indescribable sense of palpitation and sweetness. The feeling was so foreign like a roller coaster thrilling him until his limbs felt numb, yet making him addicted nonetheless.
He endured until the end of the opera in such a trance.
When the final aria concluded and the curtain slowly fell, the lights in the house brightened instantly. At that moment, Shen Yanzi released his hand very naturally, as if it were a mere casual gesture.
The sudden loss of warmth and the feeling of being enveloped caused Arthur’s heart to feel strangely empty. His hand subconsciously curled inward, as if he still wanted to hold onto that lingering warmth.
The surrounding audience began to stand up. The sounds of applause, conversation, and shifting chairs instantly filled the space.
Shen Yanzi also stood up and straightened his suit jacket. His expression had already returned to its usual calm and self-restraint, as if the person who had just held Arthur’s hand tightly in the dark and teased him with a thumb was merely a hallucination.
He looked down at Arthur, who was still frozen in his seat, and spoke in a flat, waveless tone: “The opera was quite good. What does Your Highness think?”
Arthur suddenly snapped back to reality and stood up in a flurry. His cheeks were still flushed, and his eyes darted around, not daring to look Shen Yanzi in the eye. He nodded haphazardly. “Ah? Oh… yeah, it was good, quite nice…”
Shen Yanzi glanced at him but said nothing more, picking up the overcoat beside him. “Let’s go.”
The two walked out of the box one after the other, merging into the crowd of exiting spectators.
Arthur followed behind Shen Yanzi, looking at that tall, cold, and rigid back. His heart was still thumping wildly, and the sensation of being caressed on the back of his hand remained vivid and clear.
The night breeze outside the opera house carried a chill, blowing against his burning face and slightly easing the dry heat.
Shen Yanzi’s car was already waiting at the entrance. The chauffeur opened the door, but Shen Yanzi did not get in immediately. Instead, he turned around and looked at Arthur, who was following behind him, still looking somewhat distracted.
“Regarding the Parliament,” Shen Yanzi began, his voice sounding exceptionally clear and deep in the night air, “if Your Highness finds that future communications require the assistance of a ‘cultural atmosphere,’ we can arrange it again.”
His tone was perfectly serious, entirely the tone of someone discussing official business.
But the moment Arthur heard the words “cultural atmosphere,” he immediately thought of the dim lights in the box, their joined hands, and the low, raspy inquiry in his ear… his face turned red with a “shush!”
He stammered in response: “O-okay… if there is a need, I certainly will…”
Shen Yanzi looked at Arthur’s state looking as though he was about to emit steam from embarrassment and a very faint trace of a smile seemed to flash through his eyes, so fast it was impossible to catch. He gave a slight nod. “Then it will be hard work for Your Highness. Goodnight.”
With that, he bent over and sat in the car.
The car door closed, and the black sedan drove smoothly into the night.
Arthur stood alone on the spot, watching the direction where the taillights disappeared for a long time without moving.
The night breeze blew the stray hairs on his forehead. He slowly raised the hand that had been held by Shen Yanzi for half the opera and placed it before his eyes.
It was as if the other man’s temperature and touch still remained on the back of his hand.
Slowly, very slowly, he clenched his fist, as if by doing so he could grasp that moment of heartbeat.
Then, he suddenly crouched down, buried his burning face in his knees, and let out a whimper that he couldn’t suppress a mix of extreme shame and massive excitement.
“Aaaaaahhhhh—!”
He was finished.
He was really, completely finished.
This man, Shen Yanzi… was too terrifying!
And also too… fascinating.
On the other side, inside the car.
Shen Yanzi leaned against the back seat, loosened his tie, and slightly closed his eyes.
The neon lights outside the window flickered across his face.
He slowly raised the hand that had just held Arthur, looked at it, and then slowly closed it into a fist.
The sensation of the delicate skin on that kid’s hand seemed to linger on his fingertips, along with… the slight tremor of him shaking from nervousness.
In the dark carriage where no one could see, the corners of Shen Yanzi’s mouth finally stopped being suppressed and slowly curled upward, forming a clear and pleasant arc.
The feel of it… wasn’t bad.
Even better than imagined.
That little wildcat, who usually bared its fangs and claws to tease everyone, turned out to be like this when the claws were retracted.
Soft.
And a little… shaky.
It seemed he wasn’t the only one who would lose control because of such a touch.
This feeling… seemed not so bad after all.
He opened his eyes and looked at the passing night scenery outside the window, his gaze deep.
The game seemed to be getting more and more interesting.