Ming Che woke up to the morning sunlight. He looked to the side, seeing Wen Lin, who had come at some point, lying there looking at his phone. When he saw Ming Che awake, he turned to look at him.

“There’s a banquet tonight. Do you want to come with me? There won’t be any media there.”

“Sure.”

Ming Che sat up, the buttons on his pajamas having come undone during sleep, revealing a well-shaped collarbone with faint teeth marks.

Wen Lin stared for a few moments, his expression suddenly pleased. His face rarely showed particularly happy expressions, usually just a cold, tight-lipped look.

The assistant came to wake Ming Che, and upon seeing Wen Lin coming out with him, was startled again, silently grateful he had gone straight to bed last night.

Wen Lin didn’t need to go to the company today. While Ming Che lay on the sofa reading scripts, Wen Lin stayed by his side. The scene was so harmonious that the assistant, fetching water a few times, couldn’t help but take a few extra glances.

“Didn’t find anything you like?”

Wen Lin saw Ming Che switch to a new script and asked.

A thought that had once crossed Ming Che’s mind resurfaced. Recalling their first meeting after reuniting, could Wen Lin really have considered keeping him?

“They’re all fine. I’m just getting a head start.”

“Oh.” Wen Lin seemed a bit disappointed. He measured Ming Che’s waist and said, “I had a suit made for you. Someone will bring it over later.”

Ming Che nodded, closing the script, and suddenly asked, “Did you ever think about…”

“What?”

Wen Lin leaned in, looking at him with particularly clear eyes.

Ming Che turned his head and kissed him on the cheek.

“Nothing.”

It seemed Wen Lin hadn’t thought in that direction.

With that interruption, Wen Lin forgot what he was about to ask. He touched the spot where he had just been kissed.

“Want to go for a walk?”

“Sure.”

Ming Che got up. Staying home all the time was boring, and he hadn’t properly explored the area due to his injury.

They changed clothes and went out. The surroundings were beautiful, with a green path paved with cobblestones, the air filled with the scent of grass and trees, perfect for a stroll.

Birds were around, resting on the grass, unafraid of people, waddling on the ground. Ming Che found it amusing and squatted down. A bird flew to his shoulder, spreading its wings.

Ming Che turned to show Wen Lin the magical scene, only to find him watching with a slight smile. Ming Che stood up, and the bird flapped its wings and flew away.

“Probably going home,” Wen Lin said, watching the bird leave. Whatever he thought of, his expression turned distant, and Ming Che sensed a loneliness in him.

To outsiders, Wen Lin seemed fortunate, found by his biological parents, studying abroad, returning to inherit the family business. But he had missed out on so much growing up.

Ming Che touched his face, feeling a bit cool. The weather had turned chilly without him noticing.

“Are you underdressed?”

“No.”

Ming Che touched his hand, then held it.

“Your hand is cold.”

Wen Lin looked at their intertwined hands, his gaze flickering. He interlocked their fingers.

If only it could always be like this.

–

At 5 PM, they prepared to go out. Ming Che had changed into the suit Wen Lin had tailored for him, fitting perfectly.

Wen Lin held a black velvet box, opening it to take out a brooch and pin it on Ming Che.

The person in front of him lowered his head, focusing on the task. The pin was fine, requiring close proximity to see clearly. Ming Che watched his serious, pursed lips, a slight smile on his own.

Once it was finally pinned, they left. Ming Che wasn’t sure what the banquet was for, probably just a gathering for the elite to network.

They arrived, and after presenting the invitation, they went inside.

Somewhere, a cello played a slow, melodious tune. The people inside were dressed elegantly, holding slender champagne glasses, speaking softly.

A waiter approached with a tray, and Ming Che and Wen Lin each took a glass of champagne. Soon, someone came to greet Wen Lin, and they chatted on the side.

They were probably discussing business, so Ming Che didn’t pay much attention. He sipped the champagne, a faint fruity taste lingering on his tongue, prompting him to drink a bit more.

For some reason, there were children here, playing without watching where they were going. Ming Che stepped back to avoid a rushing child, losing his grip on the champagne, spilling it on his shirt.

Noticing the situation, Wen Lin ended his conversation and used the handkerchief from his pocket to wipe Ming Che.

“I’ll take you to the restroom.”

“No need, I can go myself. I saw it on the way over.”

“I should accompany you…”

Ming Che took the handkerchief from him.

“It’s fine, I’ll be back soon.”

Wen Lin wanted to say more, but Ming Che squeezed his fingers.

“I’m going.”

Ming Che found the restroom, its decor European-style, with a vintage sink and a chandelier casting golden flecks of light.

He dampened the handkerchief, wiping the champagne-stained area. With limited resources, he could only do a simple cleanup. The stain looked much lighter now. Ming Che turned off the tap and left.

The evening breeze was pleasant. As Ming Che walked, his steps slowed. He thought he heard a familiar voice. A tall hedge blocked his view, but Ming Che couldn’t be mistaken. It was Song Leran’s voice, saying that if things succeeded, then…

Then what, Ming Che didn’t know, but it clearly wasn’t good.

He quickly found Wen Lin, who had a fresh glass of champagne. Ming Che took it from him, placing it on a nearby table.

“What’s wrong?”

Wen Lin looked at him, puzzled.

“Drink less.”

Though confused, Wen Lin agreed, “Alright.”

The banquet continued as usual. Ming Che pondered Song Leran’s words when someone tapped him. It was a young waiter.

“Are you Mr. Ming? Someone called for you.”

Ming Che stared at the unfamiliar face, smiling.

“Please tell them I’m busy and can’t take the call.”

The waiter was momentarily stunned, then continued.

“The caller sounded urgent. Won’t you go?”

Ming Che leaned against Wen Lin, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“No.”

Seeing he couldn’t persuade Ming Che, the waiter awkwardly left. Nothing happened afterward, but Ming Che felt Wen Lin leaning against him more. He looked over and asked.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Wen Lin shook his head.

“I just feel a bit hot.”

Ming Che touched his forehead, finding it unusually warm. His heart sank. It seemed Wen Lin had been affected while he was away. That call was indeed meant to lure him away.

“Let’s go back.”

Wen Lin held onto him, “Wait, there’s a beautiful fireworks show later. Let’s wait.”

“Then let’s find a nearby hotel. We can still see it.”

Ming Che led him out. By the time they reached the exit, Wen Lin’s condition worsened, needing support to walk. Ming Che took his phone from his pocket and called the number labeled “assistant.”

“Now? Sorry, Mr. Ming, it’ll take me half an hour to get there. Can you and the Young Master wait?”

“As soon as possible.”

Ming Che hung up, looking at the person leaning against him, worried.

“Hello, need a taxi?”

A black car stopped in front of Ming Che. He eyed the driver warily. The car’s timing was too coincidental. If it wasn’t deliberately here, no cars would pass by this place.

“Your friend seems very drunk. I can leave now.”

“Thanks, but no need. I’ve already arranged a ride.”

Ming Che declined. Since Song Leran had come up with this plan, he must have also figured out how to get Wen Lin to him smoothly.

If Ming Che weren’t here today, it would be easier. In Wen Lin’s current state, he just needed to show up and take him away. But now, he’d have to think of another way.

“So hot.”

Wen Lin loosened his tie, complaining.

Staying outside wasn’t an option. Ming Che returned to the banquet entrance, asking if a room could be arranged. The waiter said yes, so Ming Che took Wen Lin to the room, locking the door behind them.

Song Leran might have bribed one or two people, but he couldn’t have bribed all the staff at the banquet. That’s why Ming Che felt safe bringing Wen Lin here.

Wen Lin’s shirt buttons were already undone, his face flushed unnaturally, hands still tugging at his clothes.

Ming Che turned on the air conditioning, wetting a towel in the bathroom and placing it on his forehead. Unfortunately, these measures only temporarily eased Wen Lin’s discomfort. The root problem remained unsolved.

“Ming Che…”

Wen Lin seemed lucid, but his unfocused eyes said otherwise.

“What’s wrong?”

“Isn’t the fireworks show starting?”

Ming Che glanced out the window, “Not yet.”

“Good. If I hadn’t heard the fireworks show was beautiful, designed by some famous master, I wouldn’t have come. You must see it later.”

Wen Lin mumbled.

“Okay.”

Ming Che agreed, brushing aside his damp hair.

“Anywhere else uncomfortable?”

Wen Lin panted, suddenly curling up, frowning in discomfort. Ming Che’s gaze drifted downward, pausing.

Knock knock—

A knock on the door.

“Hello, I brought some hangover soup. Can you open the door to take it?”

“No need.”

The person outside might not be sent by Song Leran, but he didn’t want to risk it.

“So annoying, who are you talking to?”

Wen Lin turned his head, staring at him for a while, then suddenly kissed him.

For someone burning up, Ming Che’s temperature was too comfortable. He didn’t want to let go, but it didn’t completely alleviate his discomfort.

Somewhere deep in his mind, dissatisfaction clamored. He needed more, much more.

The situation was dire, Ming Che quickly assessed.

His hand moved downward.

Click—

The metal buckle of the belt was undone.

Outside, colorful lights suddenly lit up. Ming Che turned to look.

The fireworks show was indeed beautiful.