Lu Xianqing furrowed his brows. Was he still conscious? Did he remember what had happened in his room? He had meant to give him the medicine—apparently, alcohol alone wasn’t enough; he hadn’t been drunk enough.
He had carried him down, cleaned his hands, and given him water to rinse the taste from his mouth. Qin Sizheng had been obedient all along, showing no signs of waking—had Lu Xianqing just not paid enough attention?
Qin Sizheng kept his head down, unaware of the brooding expression, and continued apologetically:
“It’s not that I dislike you… it’s that I always end up hurting you. You haven’t started filming yet, and if I accidentally hurt you one day, it would delay your work. I… always end up letting you get hurt.”
So that’s how it was.
Lu Xianqing let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, then adjusted his expression and composure, slipping back into his usual performance: “It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt at all. I just bumped into you lightly. The rest—those other marks—were from me being clumsy.”
Hearing him say that made Qin Sizheng feel even guiltier. Despite taking a beating, Lu Xianqing said it was just an accident. How could he be so good?
It reminded him of the time on the variety show with the bee sting—he wasn’t allowed to complain, nor feel guilty; Lu Xianqing had quietly endured it himself.
Thinking of it this way made Qin Sizheng feel even more at fault. He looked at the empty cup, smelled the alcohol on his own breath, and rasped, “Today is still your birthday.”
“So you want to celebrate with a couple of punches? Quite a unique birthday gift, huh?”
He knelt and took a deep breath, gripping Lu Xianqing’s hand. “Fourth Brother, hit me! I promise I won’t fight back!”
Lu Xianqing tilted his head, observing him for a moment, then actually reached out. Qin Sizheng instinctively closed his eyes in anticipation—but the hand landed on his waist, and he immediately curled up, squirming.
“Don’t touch me, don’t touch me! I’m ticklish! No, Fourth Brother!”
Lu Xianqing realized he was ticklish and grinned like he’d found a treasure. He reached further, while Qin Sizheng tried to dodge—but the sofa only offered so much space. Gradually, he had nowhere left to go, cornered.
Suddenly, he noticed something unusual. Wetness inside his pants made him stiffen instantly.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Go ahead,” Lu Xianqing said, pointing the way.
Qin Sizheng locked the door behind him. Seeing the marks, his cheeks burned red.
In his previous life, he’d never done anything like this. Beyond sparring at the orphanage, he had no experience. When he crossed over, the “original owner” had force-fed him knowledge, but he had never practiced it.
Back then, even when he noticed himself in the mornings, he’d just wait for it to settle. On the day he crossed over, with so many toys around, he hadn’t even had time to think about it.
Now, in Lu Xianqing’s home for the first time, it was even more embarrassing.
He cleaned himself up with tissues, dried his underwear, padded a little extra, and washed his hands several times to make sure there was no smell before leaving the bathroom.
Lu Xianqing leaned against the door, apparently waiting.
The man’s handsome face, marked with purple and blue bruises, carried an unusual combination of dignified aura and a hint of tragic humor.
Seeing Qin Sizheng’s guilty expression, Lu Xianqing thought he should tie his hands next time. If he weren’t drunk, he might have hurt him more seriously.
Yet in his grasp, the boy endured extreme sensations and the looming threat, which only heightened Lu Xianqing’s own satisfaction. At that moment, he felt like a long-sated beast, calm yet gentle.
“My tolerance for alcohol isn’t great,” Qin Sizheng muttered, frustrated, unaware of how much he had been fed in his drunken state.
The prey had fallen into the trap, yet still saw the hunter as his only savior, revealing his weaknesses.
“Not just your tolerance, your judgment with alcohol isn’t great either. You hit people when you’re drunk. Luckily, my temper’s good. With anyone else, you’d have been tossed out.”
“Then I’ll compensate you. I’ll pay for the doctor’s fees.”
“Oh? Now that you’ve got money, you’re talking big,” Lu Xianqing said with a smile. He lifted Qin Sizheng’s chin, gazing into the water-bright eyes. “How much did the variety show pay? Enough to hit me a few times?”
Qin Sizheng immediately raised his hand. “Next time I hit you, I’ll… turn into a pig! I promise!”
“You promise,” Lu Xianqing scoffed, saying no more, turning toward the living room. Qin Sizheng followed and bumped into his back when he paused.
“I promise! Really!” He raised his hand again, holding up three fingers to swear.
Lu Xianqing grabbed his hand and pulled it down. “Fine. And what can you do if you don’t? You think I’m like you, just going to hit someone whenever I feel like it?”
“Well… it’s not impossible. I’m not afraid of pain. Hit me all you want,” Qin Sizheng said, pursing his lips. “But first—”
Lu Xianqing snorted. “Who would dare?” He released his hand, went to the kitchen, and brought a bowl of porridge over. “Try this. I made it. It might not taste great, but it’ll warm your stomach.”
Qin Sizheng took the bowl. Lu Xianqing seemed to realize something belatedly. “What did you just say about first something? I didn’t hear.”
“It’s late. I should go home.”
“Finish your porridge first.”
Qin Sizheng sat at the table, sipping. Lu Xianqing really wasn’t good at cooking, but porridge didn’t require skill—just time. The long cooking had made it fragrant and thick.
One bowl went down, and his stomach felt better. Lu Xianqing sat across, flipping through a script in silence. The air was nearly still, except for the sound of paper turning and their breathing.
Qin Sizheng stole glances at him, noticing the bruises on that handsome face. “Fourth Brother, why don’t you hit me? Or maybe leave me alone downstairs?”
Lu Xianqing looked up and smiled, coming over to wipe the porridge from his mouth. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have let you drink. Still feeling uncomfortable?”
“A little,” Qin Sizheng admitted, still dizzy, sleepy even, though he had just taken a nap. His hands were sore and ached.
Lu Xianqing said, “So next time, don’t drink outside. Hurting someone’s minor, but being drunk is serious. Got it?”
Qin Sizheng nodded eagerly. “I won’t drink outside.”
Watching him so obedient, Lu Xianqing thought: I’d still want to make you drink. Otherwise, I’d have to give you medicine. You’re too good—makes me want to lock you in a cage.
He sat opposite him. “What if someone else’s birthday has alcohol?”
Qin Sizheng thought for a moment. If it were Lu Xianqing’s birthday again, or Xu Zhao, Jiang Xi, or You Si had alcohol on their birthdays, he probably wouldn’t be able to refuse.
Seeing him hesitate, Lu Xianqing asked again, “Or what if, after finishing a film, there’s a wrap-up party, and the director or producer insists you drink?”
Qin Sizheng thought it over and felt that he probably couldn’t refuse.
“What if your company boss makes you drink and refuses to give you work if you don’t?”
Qin Sizheng thought hard, then came up with a perfect excuse: “I’m allergic to alcohol.”
“…” Lu Xianqing laughed outright. “You really thought of that, huh?”
Qin Sizheng held the bowl quietly and muttered, “I’m so bad with alcohol. What if I accidentally hurt them? They aren’t you—they won’t forgive me. What if they throw me in jail?”
Lu Xianqing cast him a sideways glance. If you knew what I’ve done to you, you might actually try to send me to jail, he thought.
Qin Sizheng finished his porridge and set the bowl down. “Fourth Brother, happy birthday. I should go home now.”
Lu Xianqing glanced at the dark sky outside the window, closing his script. “It’s late. Stay here tonight. I’ll have An Ning bring you back in the morning.”
“No, no!” Qin Sizheng had promised Xu Zhao he would return early, and if anyone saw him leaving tonight, it would be hard to explain.
Lu Xianqing understood his concern and reassured him, “No one here knows. If you really insist, I’ll personally see you home.”
Qin Sizheng dared not let this half-blind man escort him—what if he couldn’t make it back once they left? Tomorrow’s headline could very well be: Movie King Lu Xianqing Causes Tragic Accident Crossing Street! Citizens, take heed!
A high mountain flower suddenly becoming a traffic safety mascot? Absolutely impossible!
“An Ning went back home for a while, so she’s not here. I’ll call He Xing to come escort you,” Lu Xianqing said, reaching for his phone.
Qin Sizheng didn’t dare disturb He Xing. Besides, it was the middle of the night. One young woman trekking up a remote mountainside? Too risky.
Lu Xianqing sighed. “Don’t want this, don’t want that… Should I just hand you the car keys?”
“I don’t drive.” Qin Sizheng had never gotten a license in his previous life, and now that he’d just come of age, the original owner likely hadn’t either. No way he could drive unlicensed.
“Then will you walk home?” Lu Xianqing looked up and calculated. “At your walking speed, you might reach home by tomorrow morning.”
“…Then I’ll stay here. Sorry for the trouble.”
“It’s no trouble. An Ning will be here early, and no one will see you leaving from the garage. No need to worry about any connection to me.”
Qin Sizheng wanted to clarify that he didn’t mean it that way, but Lu Xianqing added with a smirk, “I promise, keep your life safe, stay away from me.”
“Not that…”
Lu Xianqing smiled lightly, “Not that? Then what are you worried about? That I’m unsafe? You can lock the door so I don’t sneak in and bother you in the middle of the night.”
He reached out, placing a hand on Qin Sizheng’s wrist, sliding it down to the fingertips. Softly, he asked, “Hmm? Afraid of that?”
Qin Sizheng had nowhere to retreat, huffing, “I’m not afraid of that! You can’t beat me anyway. Don’t believe me? Touch my face—still fresh bruises!”
“…” Lu Xianqing was speechless this time. He was right—he truly couldn’t beat him.
“Go take a shower. There’s a cabinet in the bathroom partition with my clothes. Pick two to wear. There are toiletries too; if you don’t want to use mine, use the new ones.”
“Okay.” Qin Sizheng hurried to the bathroom. The tissue in his pants had gotten damp and sticky, making him uncomfortable. He quickly stripped and stood under the showerhead, shivering as he turned on the water.
Does Lu Xianqing normally take cold showers?