Chapter 2#

The Hotel#

“Good day, sir. What room type would you two like?” the receptionist asked politely.

“Single occupancy, a room with a king bed.” Han Qingsu took out his wallet, catching a glimpse of the red tips of Lin Muhan’s ears out of the corner of his eye, and clicked his tongue softly in his mind.

He hadn’t been able to remember what this man looked like at all, yet once it came back to him, those long-buried memories magically began to resurface in his mind.

Lin Muhan was just a freshman in college back then.

Eighteen or nineteen, wearing a cheap white T-shirt, ordinary sweatpants and sneakers, and carrying a dowdy backpack, he had looked at the hotel’s opulent decor with unease. Walking behind him, he was visibly nervous.

Han Qingsu had found it amusing. Once in the elevator, he naturally wrapped his arm around Lin’s slim, taut waist, his hand wandering restlessly. Watching Lin Muhan clench his teeth and seeing the veins bulge on his forehead, feeling his warm skin and the imperceptible tremors, this resistant demeanor made him unable to keep his hands off him.

“Ever been in a relationship?” he asked.

“…No.” Lin Muhan tried his best to look calm, but in the eyes of someone as experienced in the game of love as Han Qingsu, he looked painfully green—it just made one want to bully him all the more.

Han Qingsu smiled, gently soothing his nerves, and teased him: “Then how do you know if you like men?”

Lin Muhan’s breathing tightened. He shot a panicked glance at Han Qingsu and replied stiffly, “I don’t know.”

Han Qingsu was immensely amused. Lin Muhan was extremely embarrassed yet trying to feign composure, his clenched fists causing veins to throb as he muttered, “As long as you give me the money, it’s fine.”

Han Qingsu pouted in boredom, though his expression remained affectionate and tender: “Baby, I like you. I want to have a proper relationship with you; from now on, I’m your boyfriend.”

Lin Muhan didn’t dare look at him and murmured, “Whatever.”

This attitude—wanting to resist but forcing himself to be compliant—greatly pleased Han Qingsu. He had seen plenty of obedient ones, but this kind, where they forced themselves to be obedient, had a special flavor of its own.

Lin Muhan sat bolt upright, his expression unnatural, and placed a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “I will… try my best.”

Han Qingsu was stunned for a moment, then burst into uncontrollable laughter. He wrapped his arm around Lin Muhan’s shoulder and said, “Hahaha, you don’t need to try.”

Lin Muhan went completely rigid.

Han Qingsu didn’t know what kind of intense mental struggle he had gone through, but in the end, he had compromised. He had intended to be patient and gentle to make a good impression, but the kid had been like a dead fish, even carrying a sense of heroic self-sacrifice. Han, unwilling to accept defeat, pulled out all the stops, and eventually, he saw some results.

Lin Muhan frowned, dazed, wanting to push him away but instead gripping his arm, responding with clumsy, stiff movements.

Han Qingsu thought to himself, I’ve found a treasure.

But the next morning, the man was gone.

A bowl of takeout porridge was left on the nightstand, with a note pressed underneath.

‘Drink the porridge. I have classes all day, so I headed back to school first.’

Han Qingsu read that note over and over again, snapped a photo of the porridge and the note, and sent it to his group of friends, typing: Slept with a pure college student. What do I do? He seems like he actually wants to date me?

Below was a chain of “hahahas.”

Han Qingsu chatted on his phone for a while, stood up and stretched, and caught sight of the still-warm porridge, scoffing softly.

The porridge was tossed into the trash can without a shred of mercy.

“Brother Han, your ID.” The once-green kid seemed to have grown a size larger, waving his hand in front of his face. “Brother Han?”

Han Qingsu snapped back to reality and handed him his ID card.

Lin Muhan gave the ID to the receptionist and smiled, “What are you thinking about? You looked so focused.”

Han Qingsu glanced at him: “It’s nothing.”

After checking in, Lin Muhan took the key card and pulled the luggage, walking in front to hold the elevator. He stepped in naturally, waited for him to follow, and then pressed the floor, saying, “Brother Han, there’s a restaurant on the second floor, breakfast is from seven to ten. If you can’t wake up, you can order takeout. There’s a laundry room and a gym on the fifth floor. There are two malls nearby; you can buy clothes there. If it’s inconvenient for you, I can buy them and have them delivered. Oh, right, the room is only booked for three days for now, you can call the front desk to extend it…”

He introduced everything tirelessly. Han Qingsu was listless, his head bowed as he stared at Chu Jingyuan’s missed calls on his phone, feeling annoyed as he pressed the screen off.

Lin Muhan caught a glimpse of the corner of the screen and saw only the words “Baby.” A coldness flashed in his eyes, but he smiled: “Brother Han, is there anything you want to eat? My treat.”

“No need, I’ve already caused you enough trouble.” Han Qingsu stuffed his phone away and looked up at him. Although Lin Muhan was a former lover and reminiscing about him was somewhat stirring, he was currently in a state of utter mess and was in no mood for rekindling old flames.

“What trouble is there to speak of?” Lin Muhan smiled, his gaze sweeping over the tattoo on his collarbone, clearly seeing a string of English letters: Robeson Chu.

Chu?

“Nice tattoo,” he said, looking at Han Qingsu.

“My boyfriend,” Han Qingsu quirked the corner of his mouth.

Even though Chu Jingyuan had officially become his ex-boyfriend—even though a month ago he had been enthusiastically planning a proposal, and the whole circle was spreading stories of his “heroic” transformation from a playboy—as soon as the Han family hit a snag, Chu Jingyuan had kicked him to the curb.

But he didn’t want any further entanglement with Lin Muhan, and this excuse was extremely effective.

The coldness in Lin Muhan’s eyes deepened, yet the smile on his face grew wider: “You must love him very much.”

He remembered that Han Qingsu was deathly afraid of pain. Let alone a tattoo, even a slight scratch would alarm a doctor—he was extremely precious about his own life. The delicate young master had actually gotten a tattoo for someone else—

“Of course.” Han Qingsu took the suitcase from his hand. The elevator dinged just as it reached the seventh floor. “Just drop me off here. Goodbye.”

Hopefully, never to see you again.

Lin Muhan stared at him with deep, dark eyes. Han Qingsu dragged his suitcase out, and the elevator doors slowly closed behind him. Only then did he let out a subtle sigh of relief.

Damn it, losing face in front of an ex-lover. If he had known, he shouldn’t have looked for that dump of a house.

Being driven to Wucheng had already stripped him of all dignity; to be seen by Lin Muhan in such a pathetic state was worse than death.

However, before he could fully exhale, he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder from behind. Han Qingsu jumped, turning around abruptly, only to see the lingering ghost of Lin Muhan once again.

What the hell!

“Brother Han, you forgot your key card.” Lin Muhan released his shoulder and handed him the card.

“…” Han Qingsu took the card, feeling a headache over how to shake him off.

There were plenty of people who wanted to rekindle things with him; he could tell at a glance what was on this kid’s mind—his eyes were practically glued to him. It was a pity he had zero interest.

Maybe just a tiny bit, but remembering how dull and boring the other had been in bed, his interest vanished instantly.

“Get some good rest, then.” Lin Muhan nodded politely and turned to enter the elevator.

Han Qingsu was slightly surprised. Had he misread the situation? Was the guy just being genuinely helpful?

But he quickly pushed the passerby Lin Muhan to the back of his mind.

Lying on the bed, he couldn’t sleep. His phone vibrated incessantly. He snatched it up; it was a call from Han Qingran. He hesitated for two seconds before answering.

“Brother.” Han Qingran’s voice was cold and calm.

Han Qingsu said nothing.

“Mom’s funeral is set for next Wednesday. Are you coming back to attend?” Han Qingran asked.

Han Qingsu gripped his phone tightly in the darkness and scoffed: “Why would I go back? To piss her off out of her urn?”

Han Qingran was silent for a moment: “The Han Corporation will be acquired by the Qin family next month. There are still a few equity documents you haven’t signed, and the portion of assets you gifted to Chu Jingyuan needs to be frozen. Many of the procedures require your personal presence. Chu Jingyuan and Qin Fu’s wedding invitation was sent to me—”

Han Qingsu hung up the phone directly.

A moment later, the phone was hurled at the television, shattering the mirror beside it into jagged cracks.

“F*ck him!”

The sound of his rage came through the phone, accompanied by angry panting and the sound of clothes piling up, gradually becoming indistinct.

Han Qingsu must have taken off his shirt. If he had known, he should have placed more wiretaps on Han Qingsu. If Han Qingsu had let him into the room, he could have planted cameras, too. Lin Muhan looked at the device in his hand with regret.

He sat in the car, grinding his teeth into a cigarette, savoring the feeling of his palms touching Han Qingsu through the fabric, his breathing tightening.

Damn it, even his anger sounds so good.

He looked down at his crotch, ignored it, and let the image of the tattoo on Han Qingsu’s collarbone flash across his mind. His jaw ached, and he let out a low laugh.

On the phone screen, Han Qingsu’s sleeping face in the car was clear and seductive. His open collar and the dark tattoo were obscured by the displayed time. His fierce, sharp face was etched with a frown, and a fair, slender hand was teasingly pinching his chin, a thumb pressing between his lips and teeth.

If I had only known, I should have… in the car.

The phone ringing interrupted his wild fantasies and pulled him back to reality.

He answered the call; it was a gentle female voice: “Little Han, are you coming home for dinner tonight?”

Lin Muhan grabbed the coat from the passenger seat and held it to his chest; a faint scent of Han Qingsu’s perfume still lingered on it. He narrowed his eyes in comfort: “I’m coming back, Auntie. Just finishing this last ride.”

“Oh, good. Take care of yourself, don’t overwork. You can’t earn all the money in the world.” The voice on the other end was nagging yet gentle. “Why don’t you come back to live with us? You don’t eat or sleep well on your own. You’ve lost so much weight from driving night and day.”

“It’s alright, this is fine, and I shouldn’t keep troubling you all.” Lin Muhan held the coat tighter, buried his face into it and inhaled deeply, murmuring:

“Someone will be living with me soon.”