“Manager Fang? What a coincidence. And you two are…?” The temperature difference between inside and outside was significant, so Han Ji pulled up his camel-check cashmere scarf.
“P-President Han!” Fang Zhenkang hadn’t expected Han Ji to appear here. He immediately explained, “Just had a dinner gathering with the youngsters. Xiao He drank a bit too much, so I’m taking him home.”
Han Ji nodded and cast a questioning glance at He Wenqi, who was leaning against the car.
He Wenqi pressed his lips tight and remained silent, staring straight at him.
Han Ji waited a few seconds. “Alright then. Be careful on the way. Get home and rest early so it doesn’t affect work tomorrow.” Having said that, he stepped aside and went to the other side to wait for a car.
As Han Ji and Luo Feiwen turned to walk away, Fang Zhenkang continued pushing He Wenqi toward the car, even trying to pry his hand loose from the door frame.
He Wenqi suppressed the urge to explode. He glanced at Han Ji’s retreating back a few times and, as if making a final resolution, drew a sharp breath and shouted: “President Han! I just remembered I brought that file you wanted today home with me. I can go get it for you now, but I’ll have to trouble you to come along since it’s on the way.”
Han Ji turned around, his eyebrows arching slightly.
He Wenqi’s tone shifted, his voice dropping: “Of course, if you don’t think it’s that urgent, I can bring it to the office tomorrow.”
Han Ji turned his whole body around and stared at him. “It’s not that urgent, but if I could get it tonight, that would be for the best.”
He pointed at He Wenqi from head to toe and added, “In your state… can you walk?”
He Wenqi looked up and laughed. “President Han underestimates me.”
While they spoke, Han Ji hailed a taxi. It happened to pull up right next to He Wenqi; He Wenqi took the opportunity to open the door and slide inside.
Fang Zhenkang had heard the exchange. Naturally, he didn’t dare say anything more. After greeting Han Ji, he left dejectedly.
“Hey, is that the He Wenqi?” Luo Feiwen nodded toward the person in the car.
Han Ji smiled and let out a long, slow sigh. “I haven’t thanked you for this yet.”
“Wasn’t today’s meal the thanks?” Luo Feiwen teased. “Actually, he seems like someone very important to you. I’ll have to think carefully about what kind of expensive gift I should demand to make it worth my while.”
“Fine, take your time. I’ll definitely satisfy your request.” Han Ji patted his shoulder.
“Alright, get to your business. We’ll talk later.”
“Okay.”
Han Ji got into the car, sitting in the back seat as well, and gave the driver the address.
He Wenqi was huddled far away on the other side of the seat, as if intentionally trying to keep his distance. Whether he was drunk or just sleepy, his body was slumped limply against the car door, his head resting against the window glass.
As the car moved, He Wenqi’s head began to vibrate against the glass.
Han Ji sat closer to the middle, gently pulled him inward, and propped up his head with his palm to move it away from the window, letting him lean against the recessed part of the seat back.
This time he was remarkably well-behaved, letting himself be manipulated without even a flutter of his eyelids.
Han Ji reached out to feel his forehead. The temperature was slightly high, but he didn’t have a fever.
He really was a handful.
Han Ji recalled the scene in the pantry during the day. Fang Zhenkang was clearly trying to take advantage of him—did he only know how to hide? He was certainly sharp-clawed and silver-tongued when it came to Han Ji himself.
Just now was the same. Seeing Fang Zhenkang’s hand on He Wenqi’s waist, Han Ji had wanted to pull him over immediately.
Fortunately, he had known to ask him for help. In truth, even if He Wenqi hadn’t spoken up, Han Ji would have turned back.
He Wenqi leaned his head back, his coat open, revealing the tense lines of his neck above his pullover sweater. His eyes were closed tight, his lashes casting a shadow, and his face was even paler than usual.
He took a heavy breath and let his shoulders slump.
“Do you feel sick?” Han Ji stared at his furrowed brow. “You knew he had ill intentions and yet you dared to drink like that? What if you hadn’t run into me, or if I hadn’t played along? What then?”
He Wenqi’s eyelids fluttered twice, revealing a sliver of his bright pupils. They flashed toward Han Ji for a second before closing again. His voice was weary and slurred: “Then nothing. He couldn’t eat me. At most, I’d just be felt up a few times.”
Han Ji’s teeth itched with irritation. “Heh. Since you’re so indifferent, then what was the point of calling me? Didn’t you say you didn’t want me to care?”
Han Ji leaned close to He Wenqi’s cheek and asked in a soft, testing voice: “Or, do you subconsciously believe that you’re only safe when you’re with me?”
A long time passed with no movement. Just as Han Ji thought the man had fallen asleep, a very faint “Mm” came from He Wenqi’s throat. It was impossible to tell if he was answering or if it was a sound of discomfort.
The streetlights flashed past outside the window, sweeping across He Wenqi’s face as he lay in a deep, unconscious sleep. After the paleness faded, a subtle redness began to seep through, blooming into two pink flushes that made his skin look luminous and smooth.
Han Ji sat even closer. Through their thick coats, their arms pressed together. He turned his head and watched that face for a long time, his gaze tracing the contours until it settled on the small mole on the side of He Wenqi’s nose.
He had had this mole since he was small. When they were kids, Han Ji loved to pinch his nose right at that spot; his thumb would cover it perfectly.
The young man’s frame had long since been filled out with sharp angles, but the mole hadn’t grown. If not for his excessively fair skin, it wouldn’t be very noticeable.
Han Ji couldn’t help but raise his hand, lightly tapping the small black mole. As if sensing it, the wings of He Wenqi’s nose twitched.
“Why are you so cold to me?” Han Ji whispered to himself, his expression lonely.
“Why did you cut off all contact and disappear? Why didn’t you go to that university? Wasn’t your dream to do animation design? Why did you give up?”
Han Ji murmured softly, but the sleeping man heard nothing.
…
When the car reached the destination, Han Ji opened the door to help him out.
He had originally intended to pull the man’s arm over his own shoulder, but he hadn’t expected that the person who had been sleeping peacefully would be jolted by the cold wind. Combined with the large movement of getting out of the car, the previous churning in his stomach returned with a vengeance. He went straight down into a crouch.
“Han Ji,” He Wenqi clutched his stomach and whispered with his head down, “I feel sick.”
Han Ji looked around. There was a convenience store nearby; he was about to go buy a bottle of water, but just as he lifted his foot, the man below grabbed the hem of his overcoat.
Han Ji stopped and waited for a while, but the crouching man didn’t move again.
He took off his scarf and wrapped it around He Wenqi. “Can you still walk?”
He Wenqi just gripped the hem of the coat and didn’t move. His head was hanging very low, his soft, long hair fanning out messily.
Han Ji’s fingers twitched, suppressing the urge to reach out and run his hand through it.
He pulled the man up, propping him against his shoulder and gripping his waist, half-dragging and half-carrying him toward the entrance of the residential complex.
He had only taken two steps forward when He Wenqi’s other arm hooked over him. The man unceremoniously draped himself across Han Ji’s back.
Warm body heat pressed against him, a heavy weight slumped behind him, and labored breathing mixed with the scent of alcohol puffed against the back of his neck. The sense of presence was real and intense.
Han Ji reached his hands back and hoisted the man onto his back.
The last time Han Ji had carried him was when the boy was sick with a fever and had to go to the hospital. Back then, his heart and mind were full of panic, afraid the boy would be “burned out” by the fever.
This time, perhaps because the man was muddled with drink, he had actually leaned in of his own accord.
Having something to cling to, He Wenqi put his full weight onto Han Ji’s back, his long limbs dangling limply.
He Wenqi was 1.8 meters tall. Even if he was thin, his bone weight wasn’t light. However, for Han Ji, it felt no different from carrying him as a child.
There was no one home. Han Ji turned his head and asked, “Do you have keys?”
The person on his back made no sound other than breathing.
Han Ji turned his head further. “He Wenqi, what is the code for your front door?”
“Huh? Oh.” He Wenqi mumbled something, but his head didn’t move.
Han Ji remembered that Qiao Yuan lived with him and freed a hand to call Qiao Yuan.
…
Once inside, Han Ji fumbled for a long time without finding the light switch. Using the faint light filtering in from the window, he first placed the man on the sofa.
He took off his coat and took a brief moment to catch his breath. Finally, he found the switch and flipped on the lights.
The sofa was much softer than Han Ji’s back. He Wenqi straightened his body, reached out blindly, and stuffed a throw pillow into his arms. He lazily stretched his limbs, rolled onto his side, and curled toward the inner part of the sofa.
Watching him, Han Ji inexplicably thought of a cat.
Something nudged his calf. He looked down and saw a large, fat tabby cat rubbing against his leg. With its big round head and chubby face, it was clear its life was very comfortable.
Han Ji scratched its head. The fat tabby wasn’t shy at all and rubbed against his hand again. Only then did Han Ji see clearly that the tabby was one-eyed; the open eye was round and spirited, while the other was tightly shut.
“Fat tabby, are you hungry?” Han Ji looked around. “Where is your food?”
Han Ji had been here once before, but he had been in such a rush to get to the hospital that he hadn’t looked closely.
The apartment wasn’t large but had a high ceiling, a duplex structure. Looking up, he could see a semi-suspended room upstairs with glass partitions, connected by a set of hollowed-out steel and wood stairs.
Han Ji was about to go to the kitchen to look around when he suddenly noticed two tiny, glowing glints of light at the turn of the stairs. He looked closer and saw another cat crouching there.
It was a long-haired orange cat, looking majestic with its upright posture. It gazed down at Han Ji from its height, cautiously judging whether he was friend or foe.
Han Ji looked back at the person sleeping soundlessly on the sofa. He thought to himself: When did he start liking cats? Two at once… will there be a third?
Han Ji wasn’t familiar with the layout. He spent some time in the kitchen boiling water, found the cat food, and filled the empty bowl on the floor. He also found a half-bottle of honey in a cabinet. He cooled the boiling water with cold water until it was lukewarm, mixed a cup of honey water, and placed it on the coffee table.
He then took a clean towel from the bathroom and soaked it in hot water before finally sitting down on the edge of the sofa.
After all the tossing around, Han Ji was sweating slightly. He rolled up his sleeves, and with the towel in one hand, used the other to pull the person on the sofa.
He Wenqi had likely reached a comfortable point in his sleep; he was extremely dissatisfied with being pulled and refused to turn around.
Han Ji patiently turned his face over and gently wiped along his cheek with the hot towel.
He Wenqi raised a hand to block him, constantly twisting his face away. Becoming annoyed by the wiping, he suddenly sat bolt upright and opened his eyes, staring blankly at Han Ji.
Without saying a word, he studied the man in front of him for a long while. The scattered light in his eyes gradually gathered into a shimmering watery sheen. His expression looked as if he were suppressing a great deal of grievance, looking as though it would pour out at any second.
He Wenqi slowly leaned toward Han Ji, his lips trembling slightly. He slurred a name: “Ji… ge…”
Han Ji’s heart trembled slightly. Although he didn’t know why the man was like this, he made a pre-emptive move, reaching his hand toward the back of He Wenqi’s head to comfort him.
The two drew closer and closer, He Wenqi’s hot breath puffing against Han Ji’s face.
And then—blegh—
He vomited a mouthful all over Han Ji.