Arthur practically survived the day by counting every second on the clock.
On the way to Shen Yanzi’s private winery the next evening, he was so nervous that his palms wouldn’t stop sweating. He adjusted his hair and tie in the car mirror no less than ten times.
Today, he had specifically chosen a casual, deep-blue windowpane check suit. He opted not to wear a tie, leaving the top two buttons of his shirt undone in an attempt to create an atmosphere that suggested: “I’m very casual, yet still devastatingly handsome.”
The car left the city center and drove into a quiet estate.
The winery didn’t look large, but it was incredibly exquisite. The ancient stone walls were covered in vines, and a warm yellow light spilled from the windows, creating an immediate sense of peace.
When Arthur stepped out of the car, his legs felt a bit weak.
He took several deep breaths of the air, which carried the fresh scent of grapevines, before gathering the courage to walk forward.
The door opened. It wasn’t a waiter who greeted him, but Shen Yanzi himself.
He wasn’t wearing his signature black suit today. Instead, he had changed into a dark gray cashmere turtleneck paired with casual trousers in a similar color. He looked much softer, lacking the sharpness of the business world and possessing more of a relaxed, domestic vibe. However, when those eyes looked over, they remained deep enough to make Arthur’s heart skip a beat.
“You’re here?”
Shen Yanzi stepped aside to let him in. His tone was natural, as if they were old friends meeting up.
“Yes… sorry for the intrusion.”
Arthur walked in somewhat awkwardly, his gaze quickly sweeping the room.
The interior decoration was typical rustic retro: raw wood beams, and a stone fireplace crackling with real firewood. The air was filled with the pleasant scents of burning wood, old books, and a faint, mellow aroma of wine.
The space was not large, and true to his word, there were no outsiders only two waiters in aprons quietly preparing refreshments in the distance.
It was warm, private, and just the right amount of ambiguous.
The nervousness in Arthur’s heart was strangely soothed by this atmosphere.
“Make yourself at home.”
Shen Yanzi gestured toward a comfortable sofa in front of the fireplace. “Would you like to try an aperitif first?”
“Sure, okay.” Arthur sat on the sofa, watching Shen Yanzi walk to a nearby wine cabinet. He skillfully selected, opened, and poured the wine. His movements were elegant and composed, the dim light outlining his tall back and focused profile.
As Arthur watched, he began to daze off again.
This man really looked good in anything; everything he did carried a natural, magnetic pull.
Shen Yanzi walked over with two glasses of pale gold wine and handed one to him.
Arthur took it, his fingertips accidentally brushing against the other man’s hand, sending another small electric current through him.
He quickly lowered his head to take a sip. The cool liquid, carrying a fresh fruity aroma and a hint of honeyed sweetness, slid down his throat. It felt wonderful.
“This is delicious,” he praised sincerely.
“It’s produced by a small local estate. It’s not very famous, but it’s special.”
Shen Yanzi sat in the armchair next to him, legs crossed, his posture relaxed.
They began to chat over their wine. The topics were no longer about dry project terms; instead, the conversation wandered aimlessly, ranging from grape varieties to the weather in England, and from the weather to interesting travel anecdotes.
Shen Yanzi still didn’t say much, but he responded at the right moments and occasionally threw out a question to guide the topic.
Arthur gradually relaxed, even beginning to gesture animatedly as he shared embarrassing stories of causing trouble at the Royal Stables as a child, which coaxed a visible smile from the corners of Shen Yanzi’s mouth.
The firelight from the hearth leaped and flickered, reflecting on their faces. The atmosphere was incredibly good.
The meal was simple yet exquisite, paired with different wines.
Shen Yanzi was clearly a master of the craft; he knew the origins, vintages, and flavor profiles of every wine like the back of his hand. His voice was low and pleasant as he explained them, leaving Arthur feeling lightheaded though he wasn’t sure if he was drunk on the wine or the man.
Before they knew it, they had reached the dessert wine stage.
It was a bottle of well-aged Port, deep red almost black looking like molten rubies in the glass, with a rich and complex aroma.
Arthur had drunk a bit too much. His cheeks were a lovely shade of pink, and his eyes had become misty and damp, making him bolder than usual.
Holding the wine glass, he brought it to his nose and took a deep breath, exclaiming: “This scent is so unique… it’s like… chocolate and cherries? And a bit of… hmm… an indescribable spice?”
He tried to distinguish the complex aromas, his body unconsciously leaning toward Shen Yanzi, wanting him to smell it too.
Perhaps he was truly drunk, or perhaps it was intentional, but he misjudged the angle of his lean. His wrist gave a light shake
A few drops of the deep red, viscous liquid splashed out, landing right at the corner of his lips. One drop even began to slide down toward his jawline.
“Oh…” Arthur blinked, instinctively sticking out the tip of his tongue to lick it away.
“Don’t move.”
Shen Yanzi’s voice sounded low, carrying a hint of indisputable authority.
Arthur froze and looked up at him.
Shen Yanzi had put down his own glass at some point and was leaning forward, closing in. His gaze was fixed on the corner of Arthur’s lips where the wine had splashed. Under the dancing light of the fireplace, his eyes appeared exceptionally deep, swirling with an emotion Arthur couldn’t decipher.
He pulled a clean, neatly folded white handkerchief from his suit pocket not the silk one, but a cotton one.
Then, he reached out with the handkerchief, his movements incredibly natural and gentle as he wiped the corner of Arthur’s mouth.
Cool fingertips, separated only by the soft cotton, inevitably touched Arthur’s skin.
Arthur’s entire body stiffened; his breath caught instantly.
He could clearly feel the temperature and pressure of the other man’s fingers very light, yet very steady, carrying an indescribable focus.
All surrounding sounds seemed to vanish, leaving only the crackle of the wood in the fireplace and his own thunderous heartbeat.
Shen Yanzi carefully wiped away the wine stain, his movements as slow as a cinematic slow-motion shot. His gaze remained fixed on that patch of skin, his eyes focused to the point of being… scorching.
After wiping it clean, he didn’t immediately withdraw his hand.
His fingertip, through that layer of cotton, brushed lightly and briefly against the area near the corner of Arthur’s mouth.
Just once.
It was so fast it felt like an illusion.
Yet it carried a startling sense of ambiguity and intimacy.
Arthur was completely stunned, his mind a total blank. He could only stare dizzily at Shen Yanzi, who was inches away, his eyes misty with moisture. His face was flushed through, like a piece of overripe fruit.
Shen Yanzi looked back at him, their distance so close they could feel their breaths entwine. In his deep black eyes, something seemed to struggle violently before eventually settling back down.
He slowly withdrew his hand, clenching the handkerchief back into his palm, and leaned back into the sofa. His tone regained its usual stability, even carrying a hint of intentional indifference:
“You had a stain.”
It was as if that overly intimate gesture had truly been nothing more than wiping away an eyesore of a wine drop.
Arthur remained frozen in place, the spot on his lips where he had been touched feeling as hot as if it were on fire.
Looking at Shen Yanzi’s unbothered facade, Arthur felt a mix of shame and annoyance, along with a massive sense of loss and… a hollow feeling after being teased.
How can this man be like this!
Teasing me and then running away?!
Arthur held his breath, the rims of his eyes turning slightly red. In a fit of pique, he picked up the glass of Port and tilted his head back, taking a large, harsh gulp. The wine was spicy and rich; it hit him so hard he began to cough, tears nearly springing to his eyes.
Looking at him, Shen Yanzi’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He seemed to want to say something, but in the end, he only watched him in silence, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the stained handkerchief in his palm.
The atmosphere of the wine tasting suddenly became subtle and stagnant.
Outside the window, a drizzling rain had begun to fall at some unknown moment, tapping against the glass like a rhythmic knocking on someone’s unsettled heart.
Arthur turned his head away, staring at the blurred rainy scenery outside, his heart feeling sour and swollen.
This man, Shen Yanzi…
What on earth is he thinking?