An hour ago, Zhou Ziheng was still chatting with Zhao Ke, who kept urging him to attend tonight’s art salon.
“I heard there’ll be lots of painters at the dinner here,” Zhao Ke said over the phone, his voice tinged with excitement. “Maybe even some beautiful female artists.”
The mention of painters made Zhou Ziheng’s mind uncontrollably drift to that figure.
“Since when did you develop a taste for that?” Zhou Ziheng wore headphones, eyes closed as he styled his hair. Tonight’s event was a promotional discussion for Chinese and international independent films. He was the only male actor in his twenties attending; the rest were seasoned veterans with awards under their belts. Jiang Yin had given him countless reminders, and Zhou Ziheng understood her intentions—this was paving the way for him.
Zhao Ke teased from the other end, “I saw your CP trending on Weibo the other day. So I checked out his photos and videos. You know, artists really do have that distinct aura—it’s hard to put into words. And he looks so much like a girl! More beautiful than many girls, honestly. Hey, does he have a sister? Do they look alike? Introduce us?”
Zhou Ziheng frowned, his displeasure palpable. “Get lost.”
“Just kidding. What a shame that kind of beauty isn’t on a girl.” Zhao Ke changed the subject, teasing his childhood friend with that familiar, playful banter about a minor childhood flaw. “Hey, you haven’t mentioned your first love lately. Something’s off.”
Caught off guard, Zhou Ziheng felt a pang of guilt. “Mention what…”
“Seriously, I haven’t heard you mention him in ages. It feels weird.” Zhao Ke’s tone was teasingly sarcastic. “You wouldn’t have fallen for someone else, would you?”
Zhou Ziheng remained silent for a long while, which made Zhao Ke start to worry. “Hey… Are you okay? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
After a long pause, Zhou Ziheng finally spoke. “…Me. You. If you’d known from the start about someone like this—someone with a messy private life, who lies constantly, who enjoys toying with others’ feelings, especially abandoning those who like him—would you have developed feelings for someone like that?”
“What kind of feelings are you talking about?” Zhao Ke silently assumed Zhou Ziheng liked girls, but the description sounded more like a guy. He naturally thought of the kind of feelings you have for a friend. “I think it depends. Aren’t there plenty of people like that in our circle? They like to play games, never give their heart to others, and have that spoiled-brat attitude. But I don’t think it gets in the way of being friends. Some people are total jerks in relationships, but they’re loyal as hell. It all depends on the person, right?”
Zhou Ziheng knew Zhao Ke couldn’t grasp what he was saying. He didn’t know why he’d asked him either. He just felt lost right now. Honestly, he was sick of the superficial relationship with Xia Xiqing. He wanted to possess her. That thought grew like wild weeds in his mind, threatening to drive him mad.
Why couldn’t he fall in love with himself?
Why did this terrifying possessiveness take root within him?
Whenever Zhou Ziheng thought of Xia Xiqing’s past actions, his confidence crumbled. So many people had come and gone, none ever capturing his heart. How could he dare claim to be special? So many had shared sweet moments with him, grown close, even gone further than Zhou Ziheng had—yet every single one had ultimately lost to Xia Xiqing’s twisted desire for games.
He had already lost, merely pretending he still had a chance to win.
Once his true feelings were exposed, Xia Xiqing might discard him without hesitation.
If that was the outcome, Zhou Ziheng would rather remain trapped in this false sweetness. Even if Xia Xiqing was only toying with him, at least there was fleeting pleasure.
“Yeah, you’ve got a point.” Zhou Ziheng gave a half-hearted reply, but Zhao Ke pressed on, “That said, someone as upright as you probably doesn’t want to hang out with that kind of person. Even the girls you like are angelic types.”
Everything he said contradicted Zhou Ziheng’s reality. He just wanted to stay silent.
Not only was he associating with that kind of person—he’d fallen for one.
“Are you coming? We could go together.”
“I’m at the conference and can’t make it. They’re styling my hair right now.” The stylist began blow-drying his hair, and the call ended.
Little did he know that right after Zhou Ziheng finished listening to an Italian director’s speech, he received several messages from Zhao Ke in quick succession. He was somewhat surprised—so the event Xia Xiqing mentioned and the art salon Zhao Ke talked about were the same thing?
Thinking about it, he wasn’t entirely surprised. An art salon? It made perfect sense for Xia Xiqing to attend in his capacity. Now he regretted it. He should have accepted the invitation when he received it. But at the time, he had too many concerns. Whether as a celebrity or with his family background, he stood out too much. Attending such an event felt far more uncomfortable than walking the red carpet at an all-star gala. At least there, the spotlight was shared among peers. Plus, he had other plans for the evening, so he had no choice but to decline.
Had he known Xia Xiqing would be there, he might have rushed over without a second thought.
At the banquet, Zhao Ke was stealing glances at Xia Xiqing when his phone buzzed.
[Hengheng: Did he come alone?]
[Kezi: Seems so. He’s been alone the whole time. But he’s just too striking—both men and women keep approaching him. He’s swamped.]
Reading those last three words, Zhou Ziheng felt blood rush to his head. He could almost picture Xia Xiqing, with that handsome face, putting on a polite, refined act while drinking and chatting with others.
At gatherings like this, attendees were all connoisseurs of art. Would they hit it off with Xia Xiqing? Would they feel like old friends at first sight?
His heart suddenly pounded wildly.
[Hengheng: Who’s attending? Anyone I know?]
Zhao Ke didn’t dwell on it. Glancing around the venue, he swiftly replied.
[Kezi: You know most of them. Plenty are from our compound. Zhongchi organized this one and invited some rich second-generation kids and nouveau riche types. You wouldn’t believe the luxury cars parked at the entrance. I even drove my most low-key car today, afraid of getting reported and dragging my dad and brother into trouble. Rich kids have it easy—they flaunt their wealth without a care.]
The conversation was veering off track, and Zhou Ziheng was getting irritated.
He didn’t know how to get him to keep an eye on things for him. Saying it directly would surely make Zhao Ke suspicious, but beating around the bush made him doubt whether Zhao Ke was smart enough to understand.
[Zi Heng: Xia Xiqing is pretty naive. He doesn’t know anything except painting. Keep an eye on him for me. If anything happens, just give me a heads up.]
Zhao Ke chuckled. What could possibly happen? Besides, even if something did, how could he help from so far away? Did Zhou really think he was some kind of world-saving superhero?
But Zhao Ke knew Zhou’s sense of justice better than anyone. He didn’t find it strange at all. And in his mind, Xia Xiqing did fit Zhou’s description of “simple.”
Fine, this time he’d play the flower guardian—or rather, the weed protector.
Putting his phone away, he turned around only to find Xia Xiqing gone, along with the man who’d just been chatting beside him. Panic washed over Zhao Ke. He’d just agreed to help, and now he was already backtracking.
“Damn it, where did he go…” Zhao Ke wandered around like a headless fly until he bumped into a girl wearing a black velvet strapless dress.
“Sorry, sorry!” Zhao Ke apologized repeatedly, but the girl looked familiar too. “You’re…” His mind went blank. He couldn’t remember, even though the name was on the tip of his tongue.
To his surprise, she laughed first. “I’ve been stuck in this awkward loop all night—people recognize me but can’t place my name.”
The moment he heard her voice, Zhao Ke remembered instantly. “You’re Ruan Xiao! Right?” On TV, Ruan Xiao always had that sweet, girlish vibe—her chestnut hair soft and adorable. This time, her hair was dyed black again. Dark red lips paired with a form-fitting black velvet gown nearly fooled a straight guy like Zhao Ke.
“What brings you here?”
Ruan Xiao tilted her chin to the right. “I came with my dad.”
Seeing the cluster of wealthy businessmen gathered there, Zhao Ke instantly understood. “You’re Ruan Zhengting’s daughter?”
She shrugged, her smile radiant and captivating. “And you’re Director Zhao’s son.”
“No, no, no,” Zhao Ke dreaded being labeled. As they chatted animatedly, he suddenly recalled Zhou Ziheng’s request. “Oh right, have you seen Xia Xiqing?”
“Xia Xiqing?” Ruan Xiao looked surprised. “You mean the Xiqing who was on the show with me?”
“Yep.” Zhao Ke scanned the room again. “I just saw him. Probably invited as a painter. He was drinking in the lounge earlier, chatting with some guy in a burgundy suit. Turned around, and he was gone.”
Ruan Xiao’s expression suddenly darkened. “Burgundy suit? Are you talking about a guy around our age?”
“Yeah. He was dressed the flashiest in the whole place. That cologne was practically overwhelming.”
As someone walked past them, Ruan Xiao pretended to affectionately wrap her arm around Zhao Ke’s and whispered, “You probably don’t know this guy. His name is Wei Min, and he has a terrible reputation in our circle.”
Zhao Ke felt a flush rise to his cheeks. Before he could fully process what Ruan Xiao had said, she had already led him to a secluded spot. Before he could recover, she released him.
“His personal life is a complete mess. He sleeps around indiscriminately and loves keeping celebrities and internet celebrities as mistresses.”
This time he caught her words clearly. Recalling Wei Min’s earlier eagerness, he frowned. “But… if Xia Xiqing refuses, he can’t force him, right?”
“That’s exactly what worries me,” Ruan Xiao said gravely. “He usually resorts to coercion—using some pretty shady tactics.”
“Holy shit, I need to find Xia Xiqing ASAP.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Zhao Ke, being a bit of a simpleton, didn’t even notice that Ruan Xiao hadn’t asked why he was looking for Xia Xiqing or how he knew him. He just followed her as they wandered through the Zhong family mansion, eventually ending up in the small garden.
Xia Xiqing had tried to slip away to the viewing platform under the pretext of smoking, but Wei Min wouldn’t let him go, instead offering him a cigar to curry favor. Though he was a rich kid, family circumstances meant he rarely attended such events. Many people didn’t even know he was Xia Yunkai’s son.
“I’ve seen your paintings. They’re truly excellent,” Wei Min said, proactively pouring him a drink. “I admire talented people most.”
Seeing him talk endlessly about painting, Xia Xiqing assumed Wei Min probably thought he was just another invited internet-famous artist.
Xia Xiqing smiled and declined the blue cocktail in his hand without comment.
“So you don’t care for cocktails, huh? Makes sense—that stuff tastes like sugar water, no kick at all.” He set the glass down on the table and offered him a cigar instead. “This has some punch. Private jet delivery straight from the Dominican. Try it.”
Calling him a nouveau riche wouldn’t be an exaggeration. Xia Xiqing smiled faintly, still silent. The cigar was already at his fingertips, and he couldn’t be bothered to push it away. Pinching it between his fingers, he held his hand out, letting Wei Min light it for him. The orange spark flickered on and off. He murmured a gentle thank you.
“I heard Director Kun cast you as the second male lead in Stalker,” Wei Min chuckled. “Here’s the thing—you probably don’t know this yet, since you weren’t at the last gathering. Back then, it was still the female lead role, and I pitched Stalker…”
“So?” Xia Xiqing lifted his eyes, the rich aroma of cigar smoke swirling in his skull. He lazily exhaled a puff of smoke. Within the haze, his almond-shaped eyes held a seductive charm, yet they also carried an unmistakable hint of contempt.
Wei Min froze for a moment, caught off guard by the counter-question. “Ah… What I mean is, I was wondering if you might have time later tonight. I’m not much of an art connoisseur myself, but I appreciate all things beautiful—pleasing to the eye, you know? I’d like to commission a mural for my home. Would the great artist Xia be so kind as to lend me some advice?“ He chuckled, slipping an arm around Xia Xiqing’s shoulder. ”If I could borrow your hand for this, it would truly be an honor beyond measure.”
After searching the entire Zhong residence, Ruan Xiao and Zhao Ke finally spotted Xia Xiqing’s back on the third floor. But as they approached, they saw Wei Min’s arm draped around Xia Xiqing’s shoulder—an intimate sight from behind. Zhao Ke hesitated, but Ruan Xiao quickly pulled him behind the stained-glass doors leading to the rooftop.
“Why are you hiding?”
“My family’s pressuring me to get married,” Ruan Xiao pouted. “If anyone saw me following Wei Min, they’d think I’m interested in him. If some busybody starts pairing us up, I’m done for.”
“Then what about us…” Zhao Ke stared at Ruan Xiao, who was gripping his arm. His Adam’s apple bobbed, but he remained silent, deciding to address the pressing matter first. “So… Xia Xiqing is being so affectionate with him. Could they actually be…?”
“No way. Xiqing isn’t that kind of person.” Ruan Xiao peered through the glass door, but Xia Xiqing hadn’t pushed him away.
Click. The sound of a camera shutter. Ruan Xiao turned to see Zhao Ke holding his phone. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking a picture to send to Hengheng.”
“Why show him?” Ruan Xiao fired the soul-searching question.
Zhao Ke froze for a second. “Right, why indeed.”
The two fell silent for two seconds before suddenly asking in unison, “Are you high?”
Holy crap, they were on the same wavelength. Ruan Xiao slapped Zhao Ke’s shoulder. “Alright, we’re friends now.”
What a turn of events. Zhao Ke’s phone buzzed violently. He opened it—sure enough, it was Zhou Ziheng.
[Hengheng: What’s going on?]
[Hengheng: Who’s the guy hugging him?]
[Hengheng: Didn’t you say you’d keep an eye on things for me?]
Zhao Ke was furious too, typing back furiously.
[Kezi: Holy shit, Heng, that’s not cool. I was watching him for you, right? Xia Xiqing was the one who let himself get hugged. Was I supposed to rush over, pry their arms apart, and yell, “Get off! He’s my buddy’s guy”? Pfft, listen to me—like Xia Xiqing is even your guy.]
Zhou Ziheng stared blankly at the long string of text on his screen.
Yeah, what exactly was Xia Xiqing to him?
If he wanted to be hugged and held, what could he do about it? Never mind Zhao Ke—even if he’d been there, he couldn’t have told the guy holding Xia Xiqing, “That’s my guy.”
Seeing Zhou Ziheng’s delayed reply, Zhao Ke grew anxious, fearing he’d been too harsh. Yet he couldn’t fathom why Zhou Ziheng was so flustered—Xia Xiqing was a grown man, after all.
A sudden flash of insight pierced his muddled mind.
Holy shit.
Holy shit, holy shit.
He stared blankly at Ruan Xiao.
“You think… we actually did it?”
This cigar was making his stomach churn.
Or maybe it was the person in front of him who was disgusting. Xia Xiqing couldn’t take it anymore. He flung Wei Min’s hand off his shoulder, plunged the half-smoked cigar into the blue cocktail glass, and said coldly,
“You can’t afford me.”
Wei Min’s expression shifted. Seeing Xia’s lack of tact, his temper flared instantly. But Xia’s face was exactly his type—that fleeting glimpse at Yunshui Pavilion had haunted him for ages. Never did he expect to run into him here. He wasn’t about to let this slip away.
Wei Min licked the inside of his cheek and adjusted his suit collar. “Mr. Renowned Artist Xia, go ask around. Find out what kind of standing I, Wei Min, hold in Beijing. Countless people fawn over me, yet I never give them so much as a friendly glance. I’m treating you with such deference precisely because I want to be your friend. So drop that pretentious artist act and show some sense.”
Xia Xiqing’s mouth twisted into a cold sneer.
“Friends?”
His expression turned utterly icy.
“You think you’re worthy?”
With that, Xia Xiqing turned and strode purposefully toward the edge of the rooftop.
Seeing Xia Xiqing ready to leave, Zhao Ke feared exposure. Ruan Xiao, however, remained calm. She yanked Zhao Ke’s coat, turning him halfway so his back faced Xia Xiqing. She positioned herself perfectly behind Zhao Ke, pretending they were a couple embracing.
“Should we follow?” Ruan Xiao released her grip, her eyes fixed on Xia Xiqing. Hearing no response from Zhao Ke, she looked up to find him staring blankly at her.
“Hey.”
“Go. Go now. Go relentlessly. Go without pause.” Panic made Zhao Ke spout nonsense, making Ruan Xiao laugh. “You’re quite the poet. Let’s go.”
Xia Xiqing’s nausea hadn’t subsided yet. He felt dizzy even while descending the stairs. He’d spotted Ruan Xiao earlier—she was with that young man who’d been spying on him all along. He had no idea what they were up to. He’d intended to say hello, but seeing she was clearly avoiding him, Xia Xiqing decided to let it go to avoid awkwardness. He planned to hit the restroom first, then come back and pretend to bump into her for a quick hello before heading straight home.
This dinner party was utterly boring—a disgrace to the name of art.
