Qin Sizheng hadn’t expected him to respond so quickly, and he blushed at the teasing.
Lu Xianqing looked at him, an almost irresistible itch running through him, and without caring whether there were others in the car, he asked directly, “Kid, do you miss me?”
Qin Sizheng glanced at the background, knowing An Ning and the driver were there, and felt too embarrassed to answer.
Lu Xianqing laughed. “Ungrateful little brat.”
Qin Sizheng added a quick “I do,” then hurriedly changed the subject. “By the way, Fourth Brother, do you know An Ying?”
“I do. Why?”
Qin Sizheng briefly explained that An Ying had tried to contact him, and that he wanted to handle Xu Zhao himself—if Lu Xianqing got involved, it definitely wouldn’t end peacefully.
“Do you think I can manage it?” he asked.
Lu Xianqing smiled before answering. “Wow, even An Ying is a fan of yours? That woman is explosive, like a firecracker. Everyone in the entertainment circle looks like grass to her. I gave her a little respect, and yet she’s praising you.”
Qin Sizheng was a little surprised. “Really?”
“Mm,” Lu Xianqing replied. “The Mid-Autumn Gala is a great opportunity for you. Tomorrow, have Shen Changfeng accompany you to see An Ying. Since she’s chosen you, you’ll be fine. And if she scolds you, find He Xing—he’ll back you up.”
Qin Sizheng felt as if he’d been given a reassuring pill, but the relief was quickly mixed with a bit of annoyance, his expression drooping.
“What’s wrong? Did Hu Chen scold you on set today? Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him later.”
“No, it’s not that. I just wish you were invited to the Mid-Autumn Gala too, then we could meet. The drama still has two months before wrapping—it feels so long.”
Lu Xianqing’s heart softened slightly. “Don’t feel burdened. I’ll come back as soon as I finish shooting. Then I’ll take you to watch a boxing match. I heard you like a certain fighter, and I happen to know someone who knows him. You can spar with him.”
Qin Sizheng’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Really.”
He became so excited that he rambled endlessly about the fighter’s techniques and stances, completely forgetting to hold back.
Lu Xianqing felt something was off. Even if Qin Sizheng was interested in boxing, he shouldn’t be able to speak with such expertise. His previous self certainly hadn’t practiced like this.
“Yan Yan.”
“Hm?”
“When did you start practicing boxing?”
“Since I was thirteen.”
After saying this, Qin Sizheng paused, then quickly added, “I started watching boxing at thirteen and practiced a bit with someone. Later, Xu Zhao discovered me and brought me into the entertainment circle, so I haven’t trained much since. A little rusty, that’s all.”
But he wasn’t rusty at all. Chen Qiu had said he was extremely disciplined—no matter how tiring filming was, he always trained a bit when he got back to his room.
Lu Xianqing: “Starting so young… have you ever been beaten to tears?”
“I usually made others cry. Very skilled at it!” Qin Sizheng replied confidently.
Lu Xianqing smirked, the corners of his eyes lifting. “Oh? So skilled, huh.”
“Of course.”
Qin Sizheng finally felt at ease. After all, in a world where people might not believe he had transmigrated, it wasn’t worth thinking too much about.
Soon, they arrived at the hotel. An Ning, aware they needed to talk, set down her things, organized the medicine, and immediately left.
Lu Xianqing unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a small patch of chest and his collarbones, and turned to rummage in the cabinet.
Qin Sizheng instinctively asked, “Are you going to shower?”
Turning back, Lu Xianqing teased, “Why, want to watch?”
“No! I’m not! I didn’t!” Qin Sizheng scrambled to deny it.
Yet the image of him showering—water cascading over his sculpted muscles, faintly visible through the rising steam—flashed in his mind. His ears turned red. He really wanted to see.
“Even afraid to look at your own boyfriend. Such a coward,” Lu Xianqing said, adding a playful “tsk” for emphasis.
Qin Sizheng played along. “Coward? Look if I want to. Hurry up and undress—if it’s not impressive, I’ll return it.”
“The goods are final sale.” Lu Xianqing held his phone in one hand, slowly unbuttoning the shirt with the other.
He traced from his Adam’s apple down, deliberately slow and teasing, heightening the tension. Qin Sizheng swallowed hard.
Lowering his head, his face instantly flushed.
Lu Xianqing noticed, hiding his amusement, and continued to unbutton his pants. A hint of underwear peeked out, wrapping the lean curves of his waist and abdomen, evoking impossible thoughts.
Qin Sizheng remembered that fleeting glimpse from before—he hadn’t even been able to swallow then. Now, swallowing hard, he made a loud gulping sound.
Lu Xianqing chuckled. “So eager? If I were in front of you, would you just pounce on me? Your appetite is quite big—I underestimated you, kid.”
Qin Sizheng, completely embarrassed, said, “Please, stop talking.”
Lu Xianqing finally finished unbuttoning. His black trousers were casually tossed on the chair. His underwear outlined impressive dimensions, the sheer suggestion of threat palpable even through fabric.
Qin Sizheng’s own physique was decent, but next to him, it paled in comparison.
Lu Xianqing lingered with the phone, noticing Qin Sizheng’s silence, and teased, “Drooling?”
Reflexively, Qin Sizheng wiped his mouth, realizing he had been tricked. Lu Xianqing’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “So easy to fool. I’m going to shower now—still want to watch?”
“You dare film me, I dare watch.”
True to his word, Lu Xianqing entered the bathroom with his phone, propped it on a shelf, stripped off his underwear, and stepped into the shower. Water streamed over him from head to toe, beads clinging to his hair and eyelashes.
The water flowed past, unseen by the camera, yet somehow more provocative.
Qin Sizheng rested his chin on his hand, aching to touch those perfectly sculpted muscles, remembering that day on set when he had tried to hide his piercings and Lu Xianqing had held him down “for instruction.”
As the shower neared its end, he held two fingers together—what had seemed accidental then was clearly deliberate now, a thinly veiled excuse to take advantage under the guise of teaching.