Qiao Jin stepped out of the doctor’s office and exhaled deeply.
He stood quietly in the hallway for a moment to collect himself, then sighed again and continued upstairs into the therapy room.
Dr. Wu sat behind the desk, her smile warm and calm. “Good evening, Qiao Jin.”
His mind felt foggy, but he still greeted her politely. “Good evening, Dr. Wu.”
“You don’t look so good today.” Dr. Wu had her hair loosely tied up. The room was warm, so she wore light clothing, as if it were a comfortable autumn day. “Have things between you and Mr. Lu eased up at all lately?”
“A bit,” Qiao Jin replied.
“You’re a very composed person,” Dr. Wu said. “That night I first saw you, you weren’t in great shape—but even then, I could tell after just two sentences: you don’t really need a therapist. You just need time.”
Qiao Jin shook his head, then took off his coat and hung it on the rack. He sat down across from her at the desk.
Dr. Wu poured him a glass of water and then subtly angled her seat so she wasn’t directly facing him, making the space feel less confrontational.
She continued, “Mr. Lu could’ve easily lied to you—said he never saw you as a substitute for Lu Boyang. But instead, he chose to be honest. That’s something, isn’t it? At the very least, it means you can still trust him.”
Qiao Jin looked at her, conflicted. “Even if he did say that, I wouldn’t believe him anyway.”
Dr. Wu chuckled.
He really was that kind of person—mature, level-headed, and never consumed by his emotions for long.
Still smiling, Dr. Wu said, “You’ve got friends who’ve helped you quite a bit. Some emotionally, some financially. In a way, those could be considered debts of gratitude.”
Qiao Jin met her eyes. He already knew where she was going with this.
Dr. Wu, reading his thoughts, voiced the question anyway: “So… why don’t you repay them with love?”
Qiao Jin couldn’t imagine anything beyond friendship between him and Fu Linxiao.
Dr. Wu asked gently, “Does that mean your feelings for Mr. Lu… are something different?”
“That does say something,” Qiao Jin admitted, gently turning the cup in his hands like he was just casually chatting at a familiar gathering, “but it’s not enough to prove everything. Honestly, I’ve been trying to figure it out myself—whether what I feel for Mr. Lu is actually love.”
Dr. Wu gave him a polite, inquisitive look.
Qiao Jin tilted his head back and stared off into the distance. His mind drifted, then suddenly he came back to himself and gave a soft laugh.
Dr. Wu smiled with him.
Qiao Jin took a small sip of water to clear his throat, then veered the conversation elsewhere:
“I wanted to ask you something. Do you know why Lu Pingzhang gave up on Lu Boyang back then?”
Dr. Wu didn’t answer.
Qiao Jin lowered his head slightly, not disappointed—just a bit disheartened. “I know… it was because Lu Boyang was in pain.”
Now the one suffering was his mother, and the person facing the decision—was him.
Dr. Wu figured he must’ve just come from the ICU. Her tone softened.
“Everyone comes to this crossroads someday. Thankfully, the human brain stores memories. It helps us get through the loss of someone we love without falling apart completely.”
Qiao Jin nodded. His fingers, still gently toying with the cup, finally stilled.
The heat from the water scalded his fingertips, but he didn’t even seem to notice.
Dr. Wu fell silent too, giving him space to think.
After a long pause, Qiao Jin’s expression shifted slightly. He frowned.
“I just don’t get it—how could Lu Pingzhang bring himself to give up on Lu Boyang’s life?”
“People make choices based on a lot of factors,” Dr. Wu replied gently. “Why not ask Mr. Lu directly? It’ll be more real than anyone else’s version.”
Qiao Jin left the therapy room and glanced back at the nameplate hanging beside the door.
He felt like he wouldn’t be coming back.
There were two missed calls on his phone—one from an unknown number, the other from Fu Linxiao.
He tried calling Fu Linxiao back first, but no one picked up. Then he dialed the unknown number, and someone answered.
“Hello,” Qiao Jin said over the chaotic background noise on the other end, “did you just call me?”
There was a brief pause before the reply came:
“Is this Mr. Qiao? This is DO Bar. Your friend, Mr. Fu, is drunk. Could you come pick him up?”
DO Bar was a well-known place in the city—central location, great setup, loud music that blasted from dusk till dawn.
“I’m on my way,” Qiao Jin said. “Please keep an eye on him.”
He ended the call and glanced at the time—just before 9:00 p.m. If he went to pick up Fu Linxiao now, there was no way he’d be home before then.
Then it hit him—he didn’t need to be home by a certain time anymore. He didn’t even need to ask for leave. He’d already moved out of Lu Pingzhang’s place.
At 9:10 p.m., Qiao Jin picked up a completely wasted Fu Linxiao and drove him to a nearby hotel.
As soon as they arrived, Lu Pingzhang’s call came in.
Qiao Jin didn’t have a free hand to answer. Fu Linxiao wasn’t exactly light, and making sure he didn’t collapse on the way in wasn’t easy.
Once he got him onto the bed, Qiao Jin took a moment to catch his breath and answered Lu Pingzhang’s third call.
“Hello,” Qiao Jin said, leaning against the wall, trying to get the feeling back in his numb arms.
“Why aren’t you answering my calls?” Lu Pingzhang’s voice was sharp with barely-contained anger—it bled right through the phone. “Where are you?”
Qiao Jin exhaled, but before he could reply, Lu Pingzhang hung up.
Seconds later, the screen lit up with a video call.
Qiao Jin answered, his face appearing on screen. “I had something going on and couldn’t pick up right away, so I hung up.”
Lu Pingzhang’s eyes narrowed, catching something off in the background. “You’re at a hotel?”
“Yeah,” Qiao Jin replied. “Linxiao had too much to drink, so I went to pick him up.”
Just this morning, Lu Pingzhang had explicitly asked him not to “mess around” with Fu Linxiao—and now he’d brought the guy to a hotel. His displeasure was obvious, even through the screen.
Qiao Jin thought for a second and said, “I won’t go back to your place tonight. Linxiao’s really out of it, and I want to stay here to keep an eye on him. I’ll head straight to the airport in the morning.”
The words your place, Linxiao, and him—each one pressed against the fraying edge of Lu Pingzhang’s already raw nerves.
His expression turned from displeased to dark and heavy.
“There’s only one bed in that room.”
“I know, I know.” Qiao Jin tried to soothe him. “There’s a couch too. I’ll sleep there. And if I don’t rest well tonight, I can catch up on sleep during the flight tomorrow.”
Once he started speaking in that tone—like he was explaining something, or obviously trying to soothe things—Lu Pingzhang’s temper would fizzle out almost immediately.
That kind of thing really worked on him.
And of course Qiao Jin knew it. “Get some rest. After your meeting tomorrow, when you’re free, I’d like to talk.”
“Talk about what?” Lu Pingzhang asked. “I’m free whenever.”
On the bed, Fu Linxiao groaned a few times, seemingly asking for water. Qiao Jin walked over to the table to pour him some, saying as he did, “It’s hard to explain over the phone, and I haven’t quite figured out how to say it yet. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”
Lu Pingzhang felt a pang in his chest, and just as he was about to say, “No, that’s not okay,” Qiao Jin cut in on his own: “I’m hanging up now.”
And with that, he ended the video call.
Qiao Jin brought the water to Fu Linxiao, who drank a few sips while clinging to his hand, accusing him of being heartless.
Qiao Jin let him hold on for a while. Once he was done, he started undressing him, then went to the bathroom to grab a towel and began wiping down his face and body.
Wiping his face went fine, but when it came to his body, Fu Linxiao wouldn’t cooperate. He covered himself and complained, “Don’t touch my bird. You’re not allowed to touch it—it’s very delicate.”
Qiao Jin tried not to laugh. “Fine, I won’t touch it. You can cuddle it while you sleep.”
Fu Linxiao let go and reached for Qiao Jin’s face. “No, it’s not delicate. It’s very—□□.”
Qiao Jin quickly leaned back to avoid his hand, then grabbed his wrist and firmly wiped off his hand.
“You’re disgusted by my bird,” Fu Linxiao said, aggrieved.
“No, I’m not.” Qiao Jin pulled the blanket over him, tucking both his bird and hand inside, then patted his head. “Go to sleep.”
Fu Linxiao stared at him in a daze for a while, then finally closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Once Qiao Jin was sure he was truly out, he gently adjusted the blanket, pulling it down so he wouldn’t overheat, and repositioned his twisted neck. Only then did he head into the bathroom to shower.
Over the rush of water, he vaguely heard the sound of the door. He immediately turned off the tap. The room fell silent—and sure enough, he caught the faint sound of footsteps.
Qiao Jin quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and pushed open the bathroom door, only to see two bodyguards wrapping Fu Linxiao up in a blanket and carrying him out.
Lu Pingzhang stood silently against the wall directly facing the bathroom door, calmly watching it all unfold like he had given silent permission.
The light cast sharp lines across his well-built body, his long coat draping in clean lines that only emphasized his strength.
“Stop right there,” Qiao Jin barked at the bodyguards, frowning. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The bodyguards froze and looked toward him.
Qiao Jin was still dripping wet, wearing nothing but a towel in the dead of winter. The bodyguards quickly averted their eyes and turned to Lu Pingzhang.
Lu Pingzhang barely lifted his eyelids, eyes unreadable. Without a single word from him, the bodyguards resumed carrying Fu Linxiao out in a hurry.
Qiao Jin took a step forward, but Lu Pingzhang said flatly, “I got him a room next door. Don’t worry, he’s not dying.”
Qiao Jin’s brow stayed knit—that tiny crease he always wore when displeased.
Lu Pingzhang shut the door behind the bodyguards, grabbed another towel, and threw it over Qiao Jin’s head, roughly drying him off like he was scolding a child.
Qiao Jin yanked the towel off. “Lu Pingzhang!”
There was the sharp tang of cigarette smoke on him—he must have smoked on the way here.
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Lu Pingzhang asked, no longer touching him. He stood under the light, looking straight at him.
Qiao Jin said nothing.
Lu Pingzhang let out a dark laugh and looked him up and down, eyes settling on the towel around his waist. “I’m not promising I’ll stay calm for the whole conversation.”
He’d broken into the room, removed Fu Linxiao without asking, and now he stood here making borderline threatening remarks.
But Qiao Jin knew this was just how he was. Lu Pingzhang had a need to control. Anything that wasn’t pre-approved by him, he’d overturn with sheer force.
Qiao Jin sighed, helpless. “I still haven’t figured out how to say it.”
For a second, Lu Pingzhang was sure he was about to hear the word breakup.
He had braced himself on the way over—if Qiao Jin said anything even close to those two syllables, he would keep his cool.
But as Qiao Jin stood there quietly looking at him, his lips damp and parted just a little, Lu Pingzhang suddenly felt ice settle through his entire body.
Qiao Jin looked away, quickly dried off the rest of the water on his body, and then lay down on the bed right in front of him.
“It’s late,” he said, pulling the covers over himself and shutting Lu Pingzhang out. “Get some rest.”
Just as Dr. Wu had said, he was composed and mature. He didn’t flinch or retreat just because it was Lu Pingzhang standing there, even though he definitely felt like doing both.
Lu Pingzhang felt like he’d been staring at him for ages—but when he checked the time, barely two minutes had passed.
Lu Pingzhang watched Qiao Jin’s jet-black hair spread out across the white pillow. He took off his coat, changed into slippers, and moved about quietly.
Qiao Jin lay on his side, back facing him. He didn’t say anything until the moment Lu Pingzhang was about to step into the bathroom to shower. Then, in a muffled voice, he said, “I’m a little tired today. Is it okay if I go to sleep first?”
Lu Pingzhang immediately understood the subtext—Qiao Jin didn’t want anything to happen tonight. He was asking, implicitly but clearly, that once Lu Pingzhang finished showering, he not touch him or wake him up.
Towel in hand, one foot already across the bathroom threshold, Lu Pingzhang paused.
Qiao Jin didn’t have a high sex drive—if anything, he was indifferent. Most of the time, once was enough for him.
In the past, Lu Pingzhang had also been busy. On average, things stayed at a manageable, balanced frequency—nothing too intense, but not cold either. You could say it was barely harmonious.
But lately, with Lu Pingzhang coming home more often and the two of them in this weird in-between state, Qiao Jin had quickly reached his limit.
Lu Pingzhang stood there for half a minute, replaying who-knows-how-many thoughts in his head, while Qiao Jin shifted down slightly, adjusting into a more comfortable position and closing his eyes.
Maybe it was the angle of the light, but with the way Qiao Jin was turned, his eyes were almost completely hidden in shadow.
Lu Pingzhang couldn’t see his expression—but he didn’t need to. He could picture it exactly.
After a moment of silence, Lu Pingzhang raised a hand and pressed the switch on the wall, turning off the main light.
The room instantly went dark, leaving only the soft, dim light from the bathroom still glowing—far enough away that it didn’t reach the bed.
Leave a Reply