Project progress moved along as smoothly as drifting water, but with it came a doubled workload and an endless cycle of meetings.
This afternoon was yet another marathon joint meeting, stretching from two o’clock until the city lights began to flicker on. By the time it ended, Arthur felt as if his brain were about to explode from the sheer volume of data and analytical charts. His neck was stiff, and his eyes ached. He slumped in his chair, listlessly rubbing his temples as he watched the others pack up and leave.
As the core figure, Shen Yanzi was naturally surrounded by several high-level executives, still discussing the final details. He appeared as energetic as ever. His profile looked somewhat cold and hard under the stark white lights of the conference room, yet his gaze was focused, showing not a hint of fatigue.
Arthur inwardly marveled: Is this man actually made of iron?
Too tired to wait, Arthur decided to go back to his own office to collapse for a while. Just as he stood up, he suddenly felt a chill on his elbow. He looked down yikes!
At some unknown point, his elbow had brushed against a small patch of ink that hadn’t yet dried. Deep blue ink stains were exceptionally conspicuous on the cuff of his light-gray suit.
“Oh, bloody hell…” Arthur groaned softly. Such a stain on this expensive, handmade suit was nothing short of a disaster! He was a bit of a clean freak, and with a touch of vanity added in, he instantly felt thoroughly uncomfortable. He irritably grabbed a wet wipe and scrubbed hard, but instead of removing the ink, it simply blurred into a larger patch. It was even worse now.
By this time, the conversation at Shen Yanzi’s end had finally concluded, and the executives were filing out. When Shen Yanzi turned around, he saw Arthur baring his teeth at his own sleeve, looking as though he were on the verge of tears.
His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and he walked over. “What’s wrong?”
Arthur lifted his arm with a mournful expression. “I don’t know where I brushed against it, but it won’t come off… This outfit is ruined…”
Shen Yanzi looked down at the ink stain, then lifted his eyes to Arthur’s “mourning-at-a-funeral” face. After a few seconds of silence, he suddenly spoke: “Follow me.”
“Huh? To where?”
Before Arthur could react, Shen Yanzi had already turned and headed for the conference room door. Arthur had no choice but to follow quickly.
Shen Yanzi didn’t take him anywhere else but directly to the private elevator, heading to the top floor the luxury suite he had temporarily rented in this office building. This was Arthur’s first time entering Shen Yanzi’s “territory.”
The suite was vast, decorated in a minimalist modern style with a primary palette of black, white, and gray. It was as clean as a showroom, with almost no personal items in sight. The air was permeated with that same faint, cold scent of cedar that clung to Shen Yanzi.
“Make yourself at home.”
Shen Yanzi took off his suit jacket, casually draped it over the back of the sofa, loosened his tie, and headed toward the bedroom. “I’ll go find you a clean shirt to change into.”
Arthur stood somewhat stiffly in the center of the living room, curiously glancing around. This place was very “Shen Yanzi” meticulous, icy, yet somehow making one feel… very secure.
After a short while, Shen Yanzi emerged from the bedroom holding a neatly folded white shirt. It was the most classic of styles, the fabric clearly of excellent quality with a delicate luster.
“Change into this for now,” Shen Yanzi said, handing him the shirt. “The washroom is over there.”
Arthur took the shirt. As his fingertips touched the fabric, it felt as soft as a cloud. He felt inexplicably flushed, whispered his thanks, and ducked into the washroom.
Closing the door, Arthur leaned his back against the panel, his heart thumping quite fast. He picked up the white shirt and brought it to his nose to take a light sniff it had a clean, crisp scent unique to Shen Yanzi, mixed with the faint fragrance of laundry detergent. His face grew even hotter.
This feeling… was far too intimate.
He quickly removed his soiled suit and shirt and put on Shen Yanzi’s.
As expected… it was too big.
Shen Yanzi was taller than him and had broader shoulders. The shirt hung loosely on Arthur’s frame; the sleeves were far too long, and the hem covered his hips. Looking at himself in the mirror resembling a child who had stolen an adult’s clothes Arthur didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
But the sensation of the fabric against his skin was exceptionally comfortable. Furthermore, being completely enveloped by that familiar scent gave him a strange illusion of being embraced.
He hesitated for a moment, then intentionally refrained from buttoning the shirt meticulously. He left the top three buttons open, revealing a small expanse of his collarbone and chest.
Mm… this looks a bit more casual, less like a choirboy.
He took several deep breaths before gathering the courage to push open the washroom door and walk out.
Shen Yanzi was sitting on the living room sofa, holding a tablet and reviewing documents. Hearing the movement, he raised his head. When his gaze landed on Arthur, the finger sliding across the screen visibly paused.
The oversized white shirt hung loosely on Arthur’s thin frame, the collar open to reveal clear collarbone lines and a small patch of fair skin. The overly long sleeves covered half the back of his hands, and the hem just managed to cover his waistband. Below, two bare, straight legs stepped onto the carpet (he had just taken off his suit trousers as well, finding the combination strange and the shirt was long enough anyway).
The warm yellow light hit him, making him look like something between a youth and a man possessing a defenseless softness and… temptation.
Shen Yanzi’s gaze grew deep, like stagnant ink. He looked at Arthur, his Adam’s apple bobbing almost imperceptibly, his fingers tightening slightly on the tablet.
Feeling thoroughly uncomfortable under the gaze, Arthur didn’t know where to put his hands or feet. He instinctively tugged at the long cuffs, his cheeks burning. “Is… is it too big? Maybe I should just…”
“It’s fine,” Shen Yanzi interrupted, his voice several shades lower and raspier than usual. He shifted his gaze back to the tablet, his tone returning to a flat level. “Sit and wait a moment. I’ll have the assistant bring up clean clothes.”
But Arthur clearly saw that the page on the tablet screen didn’t move again for a long time.
Arthur felt a bit smug, yet also shy. He walked sluggishly to the other side of the sofa and sat down, curling up his legs and rolling up the long sleeves slightly to reveal his slender wrists.
The two remained silent for a time. Shen Yanzi continued “reading” his documents, while Arthur looked down, playing with his rolled cuffs. With the scent of Shen Yanzi on the shirt lingering at the tip of his nose, it felt as though a kitten’s claws were lightly scratching at his heart.
After a while, as if suddenly remembering something, Arthur looked up. His gaze swept over Shen Yanzi, finally landing on his meticulously tied necktie. His eyes blinked, a flash of mischief crossing them.
“President Shen,” he began, his voice possessing an intentional, soft quality. “That tie… doesn’t seem to match your shirt very well, does it?”
Shen Yanzi looked up from the tablet, his eyes carrying an inquiry.
Arthur stood up, his bare feet stepping onto the soft carpet as he walked step-by-step toward Shen Yanzi. He reached out a finger, hovering it near Shen Yanzi’s deep-gray tie. “The color is too somber; it doesn’t go with your shirt today. Let me change it for you, shall I?”
Shen Yanzi’s gaze landed on Arthur’s bare feet on the carpet, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, though he said nothing. He looked into Arthur’s grey-blue eyes, which were filled with expectation and mischief. He remained silent, neither agreeing nor refusing.
Arthur took it as a tacit consent.
He took a deep breath and leaned over, his fingers trembling as he reached for the necktie knot. Because of his nerves, his fingertips were a bit cool, and they accidentally brushed against the skin of Shen Yanzi’s neck.
Shen Yanzi’s body seemed to stiffen almost imperceptibly for an instant, but he didn’t move, nor did he push him away. He simply lifted his eyes, his gaze heavy as he looked at Arthur, who was now inches away.
Arthur held his breath, clumsily unfastening that perfectly tied Windsor knot. His movements were very slow and light, his fingertips trembling slightly from the tension. He could clearly feel Shen Yanzi’s gaze on his face and hear the man’s slightly heavy breathing.
Having finally removed the tie, Arthur held the fabric which still carried Shen Yanzi’s body heat feeling a bit at a loss. He had only wanted an excuse to get closer; if he were actually forced to tie it, his skills were far inferior.
“Uh… what kind of knot should I tie?” he asked, looking up with some embarrassment.
Looking at Arthur’s “stuck-on-the-back-of-a-tiger” expression, a trace of an extremely faint smile seemed to flash through Shen Yanzi’s eyes. He reached out not to take the tie, but to grasp Arthur’s wrist.
His palm was warm and dry, the grip neither too light nor too heavy, yet it made Arthur shiver.
“I’ll do it,” Shen Yanzi’s voice was raspy, carrying an air of indisputable authority.
He took Arthur’s hand, guiding the tie as it wrapped around his own neck. Then, he released Arthur’s wrist, and his fingers nimbly began to tie the knot. But this time, he wasn’t tying it for himself; he was using Arthur’s hand, slowly and step-by-step teaching him how to do it.
His fingertips occasionally brushed against the back of Arthur’s hand, and his warm breath fanned over Arthur’s forehead and open collar.
Arthur remained frozen on the spot, not daring to move. All of his senses were concentrated on their overlapping hands and the slowly moving tie. His heart beat so fast it felt ready to burst from his chest.
An unspoken, intensely ambiguous tension permeated the air.
The tie was finished a knot more simple and crisp than before. Shen Yanzi, however, did not immediately release his hand. His fingers slid down the tie, finally giving a light squeeze to the area below the knot, his fingertips almost-but-not-quite brushing against Arthur’s fingers, which were still pinching the end of the tie.
His gaze moved slowly up from the tie, finally fixing on Arthur’s open collar and the patch of skin that had turned slightly pink from nervousness. His eyes grew deep, and his breathing became noticeably hurried.
Arthur felt his whole body go weak under the gaze. His cheeks were scorching, and even the tips of his ears were red through-and-through. He instinctively licked his somewhat dry lips.
Shen Yanzi’s gaze snapped to those moist lips, his eye color turning terrifyingly dark in an instant. He applied a slight force to the hand holding the tie, pulling Arthur several inches closer until the distance between them was so small they could almost feel each other’s heartbeats.
Just as Arthur thought he was about to be kissed again, Shen Yanzi suddenly released his grip and turned his head away. His voice was as tense as a fully drawn bow:
“The clothes should have arrived.”
Almost simultaneously, the doorbell rang. It was the assistant arriving with clean clothes.
That intensely ambiguous atmosphere was instantly shattered. Arthur snapped back to reality and, like a startled rabbit, jumped back a step. His cheeks were red enough to bleed as he ran in a flurry to open the door.
Shen Yanzi remained seated on the sofa. He reached up and irritably loosened the necktie knot he had just tied, taking a deep breath to settle his erratic breathing.
In the depths of his eyes was a heavy darkness that had yet to fade.