Lian Qing’s movements didn’t escape Fang Yangzhou’s eyes. When Lian Qing deliberately stepped back, Fang Yangzhou’s expression darkened slightly, but he said nothing.
Still, seeing how terrified Lian Qing looked, Fang Yangzhou finally spoke.
“Go get him first,” he said. “I’ll stay here and watch Yusheng.”
Lian Qing didn’t bother being polite and hurried off. Even stepping outside the bar, his nerves were still on edge. His drunk brother was just too terrifying.
Rubbing his wrist as he searched for Pei Yusheng’s driver, Lian Qing only dared to press gently on the skin around the bruise—the purple areas were too sensitive to touch. One poke and it shot pain straight to his bones.
The driver was waiting at the door. On the way to the bar, Pei Yusheng had already called Qi Jiand arranged for him to be picked up. Hearing that Lian Qing was going to fetch him, the driver drove straight to the gym.
Lian Qing didn’t have Qi Jii’s contact info and couldn’t reach Pei Yusheng for it; Dr. Zhao’s line was busy—probably in surgery. There was no other option; Lian Qing had to go into the gym himself.
He’d been here a few times before and knew the gym’s professional level. Though he had trained there, he’d once been thrown hard during practice and refused to continue after that. Even now, seeing the familiar signage brought back shadows of that fear.
Looking at his bruised wrist, he regretted it—if he had stuck with training, maybe he wouldn’t have been hurt so badly tonight.
After verifying his membership, Lian Qing entered the gym and quickly spotted the person he was looking for: Qi Jii.
Qi Ji stood out clearly.
He was in the free practice area, not far from an octagonal cage. Others were sparring on the platform, but the real attention was on Qi Jii.
Dressed in a sleek black training outfit that outlined his lean frame, he was strikingly eye-catching. He practiced combat punches—a basic military and police technique. The movements weren’t complex, but Qi Ji performed them with a rhythm that drew every eye. His strikes were crisp, his fists retracted with power, and the curve of his raised leg was so perfect it elicited awe.
Even someone like Lian Qing, unfamiliar with martial arts, found it mesmerizing.
But admiration aside, he couldn’t watch too long. Qi Jii’s movements were not just graceful—they carried a sharp, intimidating energy. Lian Qing recalled the first time they met, when Qi Ji had effortlessly thrown him over the shoulder, and a shiver ran down his spine.
Seeing Qi Ji like this, knowing his close bond with his brother, Lian Qing still found it hard to imagine them as a couple. He worried: if he brought Qi Jito his drunk brother, would he have to knock him out first?
Other students had also stopped to watch; Qi Jim moved like a professional instructor, not a regular member. A few nearby coaches were discussing him.
“This guy’s footwork is solid.”
“Yeah, his movements are precise. I saw him hitting the wooden dummy—it looked great.”
“Looks professionally trained. Which team’s rookie is he?”
“Not retired military, I think. And he’s wearing a member uniform, not ours.”
“See that bracelet? Gold card member.”
“Whose student is he?”
A top-level coach approached Qi Ji with two kicking pads. Lian Qing recognized him—this was Wu, Pei Yusheng’s former teammate, the same one who had restrained Yusheng during a past loss of control.
As Qi Jia used to speak to Wu, Lian Qing approached.
“Xiao Qi Jii, Wu Ge.”
Qi Jii, unwrapping his hand wraps, looked up with deer-like eyes, lashes long and delicate. Lian Qing almost forgot what he came to say.
Up close, he realized that, setting aside gender, Qi Jii’s face matched his ideal type perfectly. But Qi Jii’s aura did not. Lian Qing had wanted a soft, gentle girl, yet now under Qi Jii’s gaze, the pressure was almost the same as when Pei Yusheng looked at him. Any lingering thoughts were quickly extinguished.
Wu broke the silence. “Lian Shao, what brings you here?”
Lian Qing touched his nose. “Second Brother had something to do; I’m here to bring Xiao Qi Jiback.”
Wu and Qi Jiboth knew him, so no questions were asked. After brief instructions, Qi Ji went to change.
He emerged in a warm yellow T-shirt and beige shorts, hair damp and soft, giving him a youthful, high-school-like appearance. Despite summer humidity, the water on him didn’t diminish the faint chill around him—he still seemed distant, unapproachable.
Previously, Pei Yusheng had called him his little friend. But beyond that face, Lian Qing couldn’t see him as a mere child—no child could leave a dent in a punching bag with a single blow.
They had to leave quickly. Once in the car, Lian Qing explained, “Second Brother is drunk. I’ll take you there, and then you two can go back together.”
Qi Ji glanced at him. “Drunk?”
Lian Qing shivered slightly but reassured himself—he wouldn’t be thrown over the shoulder here. Qi Jin nodded. “Yeah. He drank a lot today, mixed drinks, so he’s drunk.”
Qi Ji seemed calm, which relieved Lian Qing. Perhaps he’d dealt with his brother’s drunken antics before?
The driver soon took them back to the bar. Although late, it was the busiest time. Qi Ji wrinkled his brow slightly, avoiding the crowd as he went upstairs. He wasn’t used to close proximity with strangers.
Lian Qing, anxious for the room’s occupants, led the way hurriedly. The thought of his drunk, high-damage brother and the two “cooling machines” around him was terrifying.
At the door, Lian Qing hesitated. Ignoring Qi Jii’s glance, he drew a deep breath and pushed the door open. The room was tidy, not the chaotic mess he’d imagined. A strong scent of alcohol greeted him.
Pei Yusheng and Fang Yangzhou sat at the square table, surrounded by bottles. Lian Qing tensed—how much had his brother drunk now?
Seeing the numerous empty bottles, Lian Qing groaned. Fang Yangzhou had also drunk a lot.
“Why did you drink too?” he asked, feeling a headache coming on.
Fang Yangzhou looked at him and said slowly, “Yusheng insisted. I couldn’t stop him, so I had a little as well.”
Lian Qing’s heart sank further. His brother had been drunk before, and now this… the potential destruction was terrifying. His bruised wrist throbbed painfully.
But the situation took an unexpected turn. As soon as Qi Jientered, Pei Yusheng shifted his gaze from the bottles to him.
Silently, Pei Yusheng extended his hand.
Qi Ji placed his left hand in his.
Lian Qing blinked, unsure if this was a pre-fight ritual. But Pei Yusheng set down his other hand’s glass and wrapped his arms around Qi Jii, pulling him onto his lap. He rested his forehead on Qi Jii’s shoulder, burying his face in the boy’s neck.
He wanted to hold him, to have more—he wanted to keep him in his arms forever.
Qi Ji, aware his teacher was drunk, didn’t struggle, treating it as soothing him. Pei Yusheng ran his hand through Qi Jii’s hair.
Qi Ji thought: the teacher, drunk, is surprisingly quiet.
Meanwhile, Lian Qing stood dumbfounded.
…What?
Watching Pei Yusheng calm down completely, even Qi Jii’s breathing eased. The terrifying drunken behavior had vanished.
…Fight? Lian Qing realized, utterly hopeless, that he didn’t belong in this room.
He was too straight-laced.
And in this room, besides him… there were three others.
Three.
One and a half couples of men.