Chapter 44#

Yan Zishu knew very little about Fu Jinchi’s past — except that it had, in all likelihood, not been particularly kind to him.

In the plot he had received, the villain’s backstory was conveyed only through suggestion, never laid out directly.

Still, something like his mother’s grave was dug up — anyone hearing that would find it deeply unsettling.

Yan Zishu drew an almost imperceptible quiet breath, and felt, despite himself, a chill of alarm on Fu Jinchi’s behalf.

He frowned, trying to draw out more, but Fu Jinchi didn’t know the details either. Fu Xiaoyu had only picked it up secondhand — completely unverified. In truth, the story had been distorted in the retelling: it was desecration of the grave marker, not the full excavation it had been made to sound like. Still severe, but not quite as extreme.

Regardless of whether it was accurate, Fu Xiaoyu was obviously not very interested in the topic.

What he was considerably more interested in sharing were salacious anecdotes — his repertoire of that was, as Yan Zishu had learned from experience, staggeringly extensive. The private lives of this set of second-generation heirs were, by ordinary standards, spectacularly dissolute. There had been a stretch where the entire office could smell the lingering evidence of Fu Xiaoyu having just expounded, at length, on some adult-entertainment event he’d attended.

The fact that he was Third Uncle’s son meant none of this had ever been treated as harassment, and had, in due course, simply landed him a middle management position in the appraisal department.

Today, however, Fu Xiaoyu had abandoned his usual topic in favor of gossip: “Are you one of them too? A gay man?”

Yan Zishu was mildly startled. He had never come out at the company, because there had been no reason to.

Fu Xiaoyu asking this way probably meant he had heard something through the Fu family side.

Yan Zishu responded with a diplomatic non-answer indicating he preferred not to say.

Fu Xiaoyu’s expression turned mildly lecherous: “All that hedging — so you are, then.”

Not knowing what was going through that head packed full of vulgar waste, Yan Zishu suppressed his distaste and changed the subject.

What had actually happened, unknown to Yan Zishu, was this: back when Fu Xiaoyu had been dismissing Ji Chen as effeminate, Fu Jinchi’s offhand remark that men have their own kinds of appeal had set off a chain reaction. Fu Xiaoyu had gone to a nightclub with his usual crowd of friends and held forth on the subject of gay men with what he assumed would be shared derision. Instead, his friends responded with the knowing smiles of people with personal experience, and rounded on him collectively for being behind the times.

Fu Xiaoyu had his moment of enlightenment: “Get lost! I’m straight, for f—’s sake!”

His friends said: “What’s that got to do with anything? Sleeping with a man doesn’t make you gay — it’s just trying a different experience. You’ve never heard that men know men best? None of us could ever out-play young Master Fu when it came to entertainment. How are you the one who can’t keep up with the times now?”

“Hell.” Fu Xiaoyu asked, with sudden suspicion, “Have you all actually slept with a man?”

His friends erupted in laughter. “Quick — order a couple of the good ones for young master Fu, the attentive kind. He’s about to have a life-changing experience.”

Sure enough, someone called over a mixed group of male and female escorts immediately. Fu Xiaoyu took two of the male ones home.

And indeed, as his friends had said, he found it a genuinely novel experience.

With the reassurance of it doesn’t make you gay backing him up, Fu Xiaoyu had recently become rather enthusiastically frequent in this direction.

But true to his nature, he wasn’t satisfied with professional service providers alone — he wanted to try someone cleaner.

When he spotted Yan Zishu getting into a vehicle a moment ago, Fu Xiaoyu recalled his father once mentioning, in passing, that Yan Zishu was Fu Jinchi’s person.

That phrase had multiple interpretations, and Fu Xiaoyu had bounded over to investigate. Confirming that the man was indeed gay, he had become very certain which interpretation he had in mind. He would simply go ask Fu Jinchi for him.

Turn it over however you liked, it felt to him no different from asking for a watch or a sports car.

Fu Jinchi had given Third Uncle so many favors — surely his cousin wouldn’t be stingy about this.

If necessary, he figured he could round up some models from a talent agency to offer in exchange.

On the company bus to the hot spring resort, Fu Xiaoyu had sent Fu Jinchi a message laying out his thinking.

*

Yinghan Group had rented out the largest conference room at the resort for the annual company retreat. Beyond the group headquarters staff, general managers from branches across the country had flown in from every direction to attend. The room was packed with people, filling every seat.

Fu Weishan delivered the opening remarks. The agenda was divided roughly in half: performance commendations, and entertainment.

Among those being commended were high performers from headquarters departments, but the larger focus was on the business achievements of the regional branches. The numbers displayed on the large screen were impressive. Those performing were performing energetically, determined to make a strong impression in front of group chairman Fu Weishan.

Yan Zishu sat in a corner, and would have bet that at least half his attention was not in the room.

Before the event, he had noticed a fresh nail scratch on Fu Weishan’s face.

As he’d told himself — cautious, discreet, ask nothing.

*

The full agenda was wrapped up by afternoon, leaving free time for everyone to do as they pleased. People drifted off in small groups to use the hot springs.

The company package covered an overnight stay, and no one was going to waste it. The general staff had access to the communal pools; the senior leadership, naturally, had access to private springs in their own accommodations and wouldn’t be competing for space in the shared facilities.

Helen, who had coordinated with Yan Zishu on many a client occasion before, knew these sorts of activities weren’t his preference — he had come with barely anything, not even a change of clothes. She suggested: “Would you want to go to the outdoor bonfire party tonight?”

Yan Zishu considered. “No — I’ll skip it and head straight to my room.”

Helen teased him: “You’re not seriously going to read through work files, are you?”

Yan Zishu made a sound of agreement: “The bid submission deadline is coming up. I want to go through the materials one more time.”

In truth, the Treasure Pavilion tender documents were nearly finalized — what was actually weighing on him was how to handle Fu Jinchi.

Though Fu Jinchi was currently nowhere to be found, let alone in a position to make any demands of him.

Thinking of him, Yan Zishu found himself back on the bus with Fu Xiaoyu’s words drifting through his head — his mother’s grave got dug up. He winced inwardly at the bluntness. Absolutely no home training.

As if summoned, the very person he’d just been silently cursing appeared out of nowhere mid-route, insisting on dragging Yan Zishu to the resort bar for drinks. He wanted company, apparently.

The resort was an established facility with a full complement of amenities — mahjong room, restaurant, bar, and all the usual.

Yan Zishu could only assume this particular second-generation heir was behaving out of character for some reason he couldn’t identify yet. Fu Xiaoyu was tiresome and persistent, resorting even to if you won’t come, does that mean you’re looking down on me? before Yan Zishu relented and followed, if only to see what trouble the man was trying to start.

He had always been cautious in nightclub and bar settings, following the most basic of personal safety rules: never let a drink out of your sight, and if it’s been unattended for even a moment, don’t go back to it.

What he hadn’t accounted for was that something received directly from the bartender’s hands could also be a problem.

Today’s drink was going to his head very fast.

The moment that thought formed, Yan Zishu already knew something was wrong.

His instinct was to reach for his phone. When he tried to unlock it, his hands and feet were going soft. Within seconds, a massive wave of dizziness seized him — but even as his awareness began to unravel, the precise machine of his reasoning continued to run on inertia, grinding out its last useful output.

Rather than waste time on shock — that Fu Xiaoyu apparently didn’t only like women, or that he had dared to do this — the immediate priority was to help himself.

The drug was acting too quickly. With fingers that had lost their strength, Yan Zishu tried to dial the emergency line.

He managed to press two of the three digits. Someone snatched the phone from his hand.

Fu Xiaoyu put it in his own trouser pocket.

Yan Zishu braced against the bar, trying to stop himself from sliding down. Fu Xiaoyu put an arm around his waist. The sounds around him came and went in waves. He couldn’t spare attention for Fu Xiaoyu — instead he pushed his arm out hard and tried to grab the glass. It was evidence, residue still in it. His fingers couldn’t close around it properly.

The glass fell to the floor and shattered.

Someone nearby looked over. Fu Xiaoyu grinned. “He’s with me — he’s just had a bit too much.”

The bystander hesitated. Fu Xiaoyu turned an ugly face on them: “What the hell is it to you? Mind your own business. Don’t go making trouble for yourself.”

The stranger turned away. They were not going to interfere.

Fu Xiaoyu began moving him toward the door. Yan Zishu didn’t look at him. His gaze fixed through his lenses, locked onto the bartender.

The bartender kept glancing over here and flinching away. Buzz-cut, long face, high cheekbones, two moles on the chin — the most distinctive features, the most immediate identifiers…

In the brief time available, Yan Zishu did nothing but convert visual information into words and force them into memory.

Even if he was bitten by a dog today, he was going to remember the accomplice’s face.

Fu Xiaoyu had him half-supported, half-wrapped in his arms, and dragged him toward the door. No familiar colleagues were in the bar — most people probably hadn’t specifically come out to drink during the team event — and Fu Xiaoyu clearly knew the layout. A right turn after the exit, and a VIP passage led directly upstairs.

Ahead were two half-height saloon doors. Yan Zishu couldn’t gauge the distance properly. His visual field had begun to distort. His knees buckled and he almost went down — he genuinely looked like someone who had drunk too much. Fu Xiaoyu caught him, and said something that sounded intimate.

But sound from outside was arriving through what felt like several layers of barrier before it reached him.

Someone said: “What are you doing?”

The words were already difficult to process, but the voice gave him a flash of something familiar.

Fu Jinchi was standing outside in the neon light, staring at Fu Xiaoyu and the person in his arms, with a cold, frightening expression.

Fu Xiaoyu felt that he had every right to feel aggrieved — he had reported in after all — but standing in the face of that particular look, an inexplicable guilt rose up in him.

“Jinchi-ge.” He addressed Fu Jinchi, with a faint placating note in his voice. “It’s what I mentioned this morning—”

Fu Jinchi gave a mild smile. “I see.”

Fu Xiaoyu relaxed slightly. “Good, then—”

A sharp crack. Fu Jinchi’s hand came up and delivered a heavy, ringing slap.

The slap was loud, intentional, and precise — not across the face but at the shoulder, leaving the mark of humiliation and warning rather than pure pain.

Fu Xiaoyu was stunned. In his entire memory, no one had ever dared do this to him. His mother had raised him as her most precious thing; even on the occasions when Third Uncle raised a hand to him, she had erupted like a lioness, which meant he had never once experienced any real physical correction.

His ear was still ringing when he brought his hand up to his face. The moment he let go, Yan Zishu began sliding helplessly toward the floor.

Fu Jinchi caught him in a lunge, pulled off his coat, and wrapped it around Yan Zishu from above, pulling him close.

Yan Zishu leaned against his chest, the full weight of him pressing into Fu Jinchi’s arm. This was nothing like Fu Xiaoyu’s soft, crawling grip that made the skin recoil. This was a pair of arms built by years of consistent training, arms that wouldn’t drop him easily.

The coat still held Fu Jinchi’s body warmth. Yan Zishu’s field of vision was entirely blocked, hidden from everyone — but in the narrow darkness of that enclosure, he felt, instinctively, something warm and grounding, and his consciousness began to truly drift.

“Are you out of your mind?” Fu Xiaoyu finally found his voice. “You hit me — for him?”

He felt, immediately, that this was weakening his position, but the other man’s expression had locked him in place, and something about it genuinely unnerved him.

Fu Jinchi said: “That slap was a lesson from your parents, since they apparently forgot to teach you: don’t put your hands on other people’s things. That’s the behavior of someone with no decency.”