E | Chapter 14

Before finishing their meal, Yang Ke received a call from Zhai Di. With a sour expression, he left the house again.

Back in his room, Yu Zhinian saw a message from Shao Xilin. Shao Xilin said he had just cleaned his place and sent a photo of his tidy home. He reminded Yu Zhinian that his offer to provide temporary shelter still stood.

Thinking about Yang Ke’s words, “You can stay until you find a place,” and glancing at his suitcase by the door, Yu Zhinian hesitated deeply.

After mulling it over, he still didn’t unpack. Instead, he decided to visit the study to check which of his books were there.

The study’s curtains were open, revealing a lush green view and a clear sky outside.

The weather was nice, with the afternoon sunlight pouring onto the light-gray carpet. It felt warm and soothing, momentarily lifting Yu Zhinian’s mood.

The desk was already covered with Yang Ke’s belongings. Yu Zhinian didn’t approach it, choosing instead to stand by the bookshelf and note down which of his books were still there.

Some were purchased new, while others were secondhand from seniors. They were neatly arranged by category and title.

While going through the shelves, Yu Zhinian noticed the book Yang Ke had picked up yesterday, Inca Culture, and pulled it out for a look.

Flipping it open, he discovered he had made extensive notes in it. For some reason, he had also doodled quirky little stick-figure Native Americans in odd poses on some of the illustrations.

Based on his self-awareness, Yu Zhinian guessed he had drawn these while waiting for a group meeting.

As he flipped through the book, marveling at how lively his notes were and how adorable his doodles looked, he inwardly refuted Yang Ke’s critique that the book was “boring and sleep-inducing.” Clearly, Yang Ke hadn’t read the rest of the shelf’s books, or he wouldn’t have singled this one out as the dullest.

Lost in his rediscovery, Yu Zhinian forgot why he had come to the study. He hadn’t made it halfway through the book when the door opened.

Yang Ke entered, paused slightly upon seeing him, and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Checking which books are here,” Yu Zhinian answered honestly. Unable to resist, he added, “How is Inca Culture boring?”

Yang Ke glanced at him with no expression, shut the door behind him, and walked over. Standing closer than necessary, he leaned in to look at the book in Yu Zhinian’s hands. “What part isn’t boring?”

Pointing to Yu Zhinian’s stick figures, he remarked, “If it’s not boring, why are you doodling in it?”

“This isn’t doodling,” Yu Zhinian retorted. “It’s supplemental illustration.”

Yang Ke was silent for a few seconds before conceding, “If you say so.”

He withdrew his hand but didn’t step away. Yu Zhinian hesitated before asking, “Are you here to work?”

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” Yu Zhinian said, checking his watch. Yang Ke had been gone just over an hour.

“Zhai Di asked me to meet with an investor,” Yang Ke explained. “The new fund is almost closed. It’s been busy these past few days. They were eating, so I stayed for a bit and left.”

Yang Ke rarely talked this much with Yu Zhinian. It caught Yu Zhinian off guard, leaving him unsure how to respond. Closing the book, he asked, “Do you need the study?”

Yang Ke looked at him thoughtfully before saying, “If you want to read, you can stay.”

Yang Ke’s tone was unexpectedly accommodating, even kind, which left Yu Zhinian feeling uneasy. He wasn’t sure whether to stay or tactfully leave.

“Will I bother you if I stay?” Yu Zhinian asked on impulse.

They were standing very close. Although Yu Zhinian should have avoided looking at Yang Ke, he met his gaze anyway. Yang Ke calmly replied, “No.”

“Okay,” Yu Zhinian said. He randomly grabbed a book from the shelf and sat on the sofa opposite the desk.

Page by page, Yu Zhinian pretended to read, though he didn’t take in a single word. Instead, he simply sat quietly in Yang Ke’s vicinity.

In truth, their relationship had never been overtly hostile. But ever since the issue of the will came up—along with Yu Zhinian’s poorly concealed feelings—the ease between them had vanished, replaced by tension and distance.

The study’s quiet atmosphere that afternoon made Yu Zhinian feel that perhaps, now that they had reached the end of the line, Yang Ke was willing to let go of past grievances and offer a peaceful farewell.

The room remained silent for a long time. Yu Zhinian idly flipped through the book, lost in thought. Midway through, Yang Ke suddenly asked, “Has Ning City changed much?”

Yu Zhinian looked up. Yang Ke had set his laptop aside and was gazing at him. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Yu Zhinian replied, “Quite a bit.”

“How long has it been since you went back?” Yu Zhinian asked. Since college, Yang Ke had never returned to visit their grandfather with him. Yu Zhinian always made the trips alone.

“Five or six years,” Yang Ke said. “I’ve lost count.”

“I’ve only been to New City a few times to see my dad,” he added.

“Do you dislike Ning City that much?” Yu Zhinian asked without thinking.

Yang Ke stared at him for a few seconds before looking away. “Not really. I just don’t want to see him.”

Perhaps because this felt like their final heart-to-heart, Yu Zhinian couldn’t stop himself from adding, “You probably don’t want to see me either.”

Yang Ke froze, glanced at him, and after a moment said quietly, “No.”

“I’ve told you before,” Yang Ke said after a pause. “Stop overthinking everything.”

Yu Zhinian fell silent.

They stayed in the study until five. Yu Zhinian then went back to his room to change into a suit and followed Yang Ke out for dinner.

The restaurant was in the center of Rose District. It seemed newly renovated and wasn’t officially open yet, serving only the two of them.

The head chef personally introduced each dish, pairing them with different wines.

Yu Zhinian could hold his liquor well, but Yang Ke couldn’t. Usually, Yang Ke didn’t drink at all. That night, however, he had a few glasses, and by the end of the meal, Yu Zhinian could tell he was slightly drunk.

It showed in how Yang Ke coldly scored every dish when the chef asked for feedback—a behavior unlike him.

Watching Yang Ke drunk amused Yu Zhinian, and he had to stifle his laughter. But Yang Ke noticed, and his displeasure was evident. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing,” Yu Zhinian quickly denied.

By the time they left the restaurant, it was completely dark. The driver was waiting by the entrance.

In the car, Yang Ke leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.

Taking advantage of the dim light and Yang Ke’s closed eyes, Yu Zhinian dared to quietly study his face. Yang Ke didn’t flush when drunk, and if not for his behavior, Yu Zhinian wouldn’t have noticed he’d had too much to drink.

Yang Ke’s breathing was steady, almost as if he were asleep. He looked less distant, even approachable.

After watching for a while, Yu Zhinian couldn’t resist wondering if Yang Ke’s face was warm. Glancing at the rearview mirror to confirm the driver wasn’t paying attention, he cautiously reached out and brushed the back of his hand against Yang Ke’s cheek.

Yang Ke’s skin was warm—not hot, not cold, just normal. But just as Yu Zhinian registered this, Yang Ke opened his eyes and stared at him impassively.

“…You had something on your face,” Yu Zhinian stammered. “I was wiping it off.”

Yang Ke looked at him quietly for a few seconds before asking, “Did you get it off?”

“Yes,” Yu Zhinian blurted out.

“Thank you,” Yang Ke said politely.

Yu Zhinian almost laughed but held it in. He turned to look out the window, pretending nothing had happened.

The car was silent. Yu Zhinian watched the neon lights and streetlamps outside against the deep black sky. For a brief moment, he thought, This might be the last time I sit next to Yang Ke like this.

He forced himself to stop thinking about who Yang Ke might drink with or visit restaurants with in the future.

The car crossed a bridge, drawing closer to Yang Ke’s house.

Yang Ke called Yu Zhinian’s name, and he turned to look at him.

In the dark, Yang Ke’s face was unreadable. He asked, in a flat tone, “Do you find this life unbearable?”

Yu Zhinian was caught off guard. “What?”

“Accepting the trust doesn’t harm you,” Yang Ke said. “The shares and money he gave you—you couldn’t earn that in several lifetimes.”

He looked at Yu Zhinian and asked, “Why won’t you take it?”

Yu Zhinian stared back, unsure if Yang Ke was mocking his inability to make money or genuinely curious about his refusal.

“Why?” Yang Ke repeated, as if determined to get an answer tonight.

Yu Zhinian felt helpless. He guessed Yang Ke might truly be drunk and debated whether to give an honest explanation or deflect with a vague excuse.

As the car entered the gates, Yang Ke suddenly seemed to abandon his questioning. Leaning closer to Yu Zhinian, he pressed a hand on his arm and slowly rested his head on Yu Zhinian’s shoulder.

Yang Ke’s forehead touched his shoulder, his hair brushing against Yu Zhinian’s neck and jaw.

Yu Zhinian wasn’t sure if this was some kind of farewell gesture. The scent of Yang Ke’s cologne—mature, professional, and successful—filled his senses. It was nothing like the shared memories of their childhood home in Ning City, where the smell of laundry softener lingered.

This unfamiliar scent made Yu Zhinian feel distant, almost dazed. Yang Ke seemed taller now, more unreachable. He was someone Yu Zhinian could never catch up to again.

“Yang Ke,” Yu Zhinian called softly.

Yang Ke responded with a low “Hmm” against his shoulder.

The sound felt like a current, traveling from his shoulder to his heart and mind.

Yu Zhinian didn’t say anything else. Powerless against his emotions, he felt like a thief, selfish and audacious. With his free arm, he lightly placed his hand on Yang Ke’s back, creating the illusion of a complete embrace he had never truly been given.