ST CHAPTER 28

When Wei Jiayi woke up, it felt as though a fire was burning on his back. He snapped his eyes open, thinking the room was engulfed in flames. His body wouldn’t move easily, but after managing to turn with some effort, he realized the heat was coming from Zhao Jing, who was sprawled across his back.

Zhao Jing wore a black sleep mask, his chin resting on Wei Jiayi’s shoulder. From the weight of his body and the slackness of his muscles, it was clear Zhao Jing was fast asleep.

Wei Jiayi managed to free himself from Zhao Jing’s grasp, shifting to the edge of the bed. Sitting up, he suddenly recalled the events of the previous night.

It hadn’t been entirely impulsive, nor did he regret it, but his emotions were tangled. At first, he had only wanted to confirm whether Zhao Jing suffered from some unspeakable illness. But after kissing him for a while, things had spiraled out of control.

Of course, most of the blame lay squarely on Wei Jiayi. Fueled by drunken excitement, he stripped off most of his clothes. But the moment their skin touched, panic overtook him, leaving him unable to decide whether to continue. Groggy from alcohol, he somehow found the courage to pull away from Zhao Jing, mutter a quick “goodnight,” and pretend to sleep before genuinely passing out moments later.

It was still early, just eight o’clock.

The curtains were drawn tightly shut. Wei Jiayi sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at Zhao Jing, who remained sound asleep. As his mind drifted, the memory of pinning Zhao Jing to the bed surged back. Last night, Zhao Jing had only touched his face before Wei Jiayi began getting handsy. His face grew hot, his head ached, and he felt like he had corrupted the innocent Zhao Jing.

He headed to the bathroom to wash up. When he returned, Zhao Jing was already sitting up.

Zhao Jing had opened the curtains, flooding the room with light. He stared directly at Wei Jiayi, his robe loosely draped over him, revealing red marks on his shoulder left by Wei Jiayi’s rough grip from the day before.

“Good morning.” Wei Jiayi started expertly playing dumb and flashed a rehearsed smile. “Did you sleep well?”

Zhao Jing responded with an “Mm,” but his gaze never wavered. He stared at Wei Jiayi with an expression that clearly said he was waiting for something, sitting motionlessly.

Wei Jiayi held Zhao Jing’s gaze for a few seconds, realizing he couldn’t keep pretending not to understand. Unsure of what Zhao Jing truly wanted, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Couples are supposed to give each other a good morning kiss,” Zhao Jing said nonchalantly. “I’ve seen it on TV.”

Wei Jiayi couldn’t help it. He walked over, leaned in, and quickly pressed his lips to Zhao Jing’s cheek. He even reached up to remove Zhao Jing’s sleep mask for him. Zhao Jing seemed satisfied, placing a hand on Wei Jiayi’s waist and kissing his forehead in return. “Morning.”

Zhao Jing’s lips were warmer than Wei Jiayi’s skin, and his kiss felt far more serious. Afterward, Zhao Jing stood up, leaving Wei Jiayi sitting on the bed, inexplicably dazed.

Wei Jiayi’s room was small, and the coffee table couldn’t hold many plates, so they went upstairs to Zhao Jing’s suite for breakfast.

Because of the time difference, Zhao Jing started working while eating.

As Wei Jiayi sipped his coffee, he thought for a moment. When Zhao Jing finished a phone call, Wei Jiayi said, “You don’t have to follow me to my next stop today. Go home first, alright?” Without waiting for Zhao Jing to respond, he explained, “I have to visit several places over the next few days, and I won’t finish until very late at night. I won’t have time to spend with you. You’d be dragging a whole entourage along, and I don’t want you to get exhausted. Besides, it’s already the 13th. If you head back now, we’ll see each other again in just three days.”

Zhao Jing stayed silent. Wei Jiayi touched the back of his hand and asked, “What do you think? Okay?”

Zhao Jing was never happy when plans changed, and today was no exception. After a long pause, he reluctantly nodded.

Once Wei Jiayi had managed to coax Zhao Jing to leave, he headed to the airport with his team.

At the boarding gate, Wei Jiayi barely had time to wait before clients began calling one after another. There was no buffer—he was quickly pulled back into his busy routine. However, in between calls, he did manage to respond to a few messages from friends.

From last night until now, Wei Jiayi had received numerous messages about Pan Yifei. Even his agent had brought it up in conversation. Scrolling through his chat logs, Wei Jiayi noticed that Pan Yifei’s two sponsors were of different genders. Yet, the tone in the messages felt oddly familiar to him. He was struck by how something so sordid could be dressed up to appear proper and respectable.

One friend, who had known Wei Jiayi for years, was more blunt: “I always thought there was something off about him. Back when he was your roommate, he had you on a leash. He wasn’t too obvious during meals, but what straight guy takes care of his roommate like that? Since you were close with him, I didn’t have the heart to say anything.”

Wei Jiayi initially wanted to reply: “Remember to tell me next time,” but then thought there likely wouldn’t be a next time. Instead, he wrote back: “I was easy to fool back then.”

Life felt as though it had split into two distinct parts. One half seemed empty and lifeless because Zhao Jing wasn’t around. It was a bit too soon to feel this way, but Wei Jiayi was already blind when it came to Zhao Jing. Even so, he sincerely hoped that, no matter how lost he might feel in the future, he would never say he regretted it.

When Zhao Jing landed, he went straight to his parents’ house.

His parents were preparing for a week-long trip to Europe and had asked him to come over for dinner. They wanted to gather as a family one last time before their departure and also check on how well he was recovering.

Originally, Zhao Jing had planned to stay with Wei Jiayi, working alongside him until it was time to go home. He had already declined his parents’ invitation. But Wei Jiayi, feeling sorry for how exhausted Zhao Jing was from all the travel, stroked his hand with a hint of reluctance and coaxed him into going home instead. Unable to resist Wei Jiayi’s plea, Zhao Jing relented and called his parents back to let them know he would come after all.

As for his condition, Zhao Jing naturally was recovering just fine. To reassure them, he made a point of tapping his crutch on the floor when he arrived.

After dinner, his mother had an overseas auction to attend. She was on the phone with a representative while his father advised her from the side. The two were thoroughly engrossed by themselves.

Unwilling to be ignored, Zhao Jing picked up the auction catalog from his mother’s secretary and flipped through it. It was a liquor auction, and it just so happened that Wei Jiayi was an alcohol enthusiast who loved drinking until drunk. Once tipsy, he’d become obedient and clingy—something that piqued Zhao Jing’s interest.

While his parents discussed bidding strategies, Zhao Jing spotted a case of Macallan whiskey in the auction catalog. He squeezed in beside them and showed it to them. “I want this.”

“Since when did you start drinking?” his mother asked, glancing at him suspiciously.

“Wei Jiayi drinks,” Zhao Jing replied, flipping through the catalog again. Soon, he spotted a case of wine with a box designed by a renowned artist and interjected, “I want this one too.”

When he looked up, he noticed his mother’s subtle expression and his father’s hesitation, as though he wanted to say something but held back. Both of them remained silent. Even Zhao Jing sensed that the atmosphere wasn’t right and asked, “Is something wrong?”

His mother shook her head. “If you want it, then get it.”

The auction items that both Zhao Jing and his mother were interested in came up early, and the bidding concluded quickly. As usual, Zhao Jing’s luck was impeccable—he effortlessly secured the gifts he wanted for Wei Jiayi.

After hanging up the phone, his mother suddenly said, “Let’s talk.”

“You want to ask about Wei Jiayi?” Zhao Jing looked at her, already anticipating the conversation. “I’ve figured it out now. He told me he has feelings for me, and we’ve started dating.”

“Really?” His mother didn’t seem entirely convinced. She asked, “What exactly did he say?”

Prompted by her question, Zhao Jing recalled the conversation in which they had defined their relationship. It felt a bit strange to repeat, not entirely dignified, but he recounted it without embellishment. “Wei Jiayi confessed to me and said we should take things slowly. He also doesn’t want others to know yet.”

His parents exchanged a glance before his mother spoke. “I’ve interacted with Wei Jiayi before, and your father and I have discussed this. We won’t interfere with your relationship. You’re not young anymore, and you’ve never shown much interest in this area. We had already prepared ourselves for the possibility that you might never start a family. We’ve long accepted that it doesn’t matter if it’s a man or a woman. But when it comes to relationships, you need to be serious. Don’t pressure others, and don’t leave yourself completely unguarded either. We respect your decisions and won’t investigate him, but you should still be cautious and thoughtful about this.”

Zhao Jing understood perfectly well what his mother was implying, but he didn’t want to address it directly. Frowning slightly, he shot back, “What’s there to investigate? I’m going to marry him soon.”

It wasn’t that he was naive—there simply wasn’t much about Wei Jiayi that needed looking into. Zhao Jing had already done a thorough online search back when he interviewed candidates for the CFO position. If Wei Jiayi had been more mindful and protective of his own reputation, he wouldn’t have suffered so many public setbacks.

“You don’t listen to a word I say.” His mother looked exasperated. “Didn’t he say to take things slow? And now you’re talking about marriage. Does your boyfriend even know about this, or is it just something you’ve decided on your own?”

Zhao Jing, in fact, hadn’t mentioned it to Wei Jiayi yet, but he had his reasons. “Time has been too tight. I haven’t had the chance to tell him.”

“Zhao Jing,” his father interjected, “the two of you come from very different backgrounds. It’s not the kind of well-matched situation like what your mother and I have. Being with you will require him to sacrifice a lot—his career, his freedom. Right now, you’ve only been together for a few days, and you’re still in the honeymoon phase, where everything feels easy. But as time goes on, conflicts will arise, and he may not be able to handle them. Whether you can resolve those issues is another matter. Talking about marriage now is too hasty.”

On this point, Zhao Jing disagreed with his parents. He was never one to hesitate. Once he decided on something, he acted immediately and made sure to do it well. This time was no exception. Seeing the unnecessary worry on their faces, he confidently told them, “I will marry Wei Jiayi.”

His mother shook her head but decided not to press further. Instead, she asked where he wanted the two cases of alcohol delivered—to their house or his own.

After leaving his parents’ home, Zhao Jing noticed a message from Wei Jiayi.

Wei Jiayi had written that, while there was no time difference now, he would likely still keep working until Zhao Jing fell asleep because he had a night scene to shoot today. They hadn’t been apart for long, yet Zhao Jing already missed him deeply. Thinking about the skepticism in his parents’ words, Zhao Jing felt irritated and sent Wei Jiayi a direct question: “Do you think we’ll have conflicts in the future?”

As the car circled around the fountain and landscaped pool, Zhao Jing assumed Wei Jiayi would wait until he was asleep to respond. Instead, his phone rang.

Zhao Jing answered immediately. On the other end, Wei Jiayi asked in a low voice, “What’s wrong? Why are you asking about conflicts?” In the background, there was noise with people talking and shouting instructions.

“Nothing, it just crossed my mind.” Zhao Jing couldn’t bring up what his parents had said, so he had to endure it on his own, feeling very stifled.

After a few seconds, Wei Jiayi asked, “What kind of conflicts? How would they come up?”

“And if they do?” Zhao Jing pressed further.

“…If they do, I’ll find a way to handle them.” Wei Jiayi’s voice was gentle and patient. Just like that, Zhao Jing’s unhappiness melted away, replaced by a yearning to see Wei Jiayi immediately.

On the other end, someone called out for Wei Jiayi. Lowering his voice, Wei Jiayi said, “Zhao Jing, I have to get back to work.”

Zhao Jing agreed, said goodbye, and ended the call.

As the screen went dark, it felt as though Wei Jiayi’s soothing words still echoed in Zhao Jing’s ears. The car finally passed through the iron gates.

That gentle voice lingered in Zhao Jing’s mind, accompanying him through a restful sleep and helping him endure the next two challenging days—until the evening of the 16th.

After landing, Wei Jiayi informed Zhao Jing that he needed to stop by the studio with his assistant before heading home. They agreed that Zhao Jing would pick him up downstairs at his apartment building.

With his parents off to Europe and the doctor confirming that his leg had nearly fully healed, Zhao Jing was eager to show off his recovery. Instead of using the driver’s car, he went to the garage, chose a sports car, and drove off himself. He expected to arrive before Wei Jiayi, but when he pulled up to the apartment, he saw Wei Jiayi already waiting, his shoulders slightly hunched.

The cold air swept in wave after wave, but Wei Jiayi’s clothes never seemed to get thicker. He always prioritized fashion over practicality, wearing very little—a T-shirt clinging to his waist and a short jacket thrown over it. With his slim frame, he looked even colder. Every time Zhao Jing saw him dressed like this, he felt the urge to wrap him up in layers.

Zhao Jing parked a short distance away. Since the car’s windows were tinted, Wei Jiayi didn’t notice who was inside. Just then, a long sedan pulled up behind Zhao Jing’s car. Wei Jiayi’s gaze skipped past the sports car and landed on the sedan instead. Expectantly, he hugged his arms tightly and walked toward it.

Frustrated by his cluelessness, Zhao Jing got out of his car and called his name.

Wei Jiayi turned around, paused in surprise, and then walked toward Zhao Jing with a smile. “Driving yourself today?”

Embarrassed by his mistake, Wei Jiayi apologized, saying he hadn’t seen clearly. Zhao Jing quickly cooled down and opened the passenger door for him. “My leg’s fully recovered. Having a driver just gets in the way, so it was better to drive myself.” He didn’t mention that the car wasn’t a flatbed truck and could be driven with just his right foot—it wasn’t important.

Once Zhao Jing got back into the driver’s seat and closed the door, the car’s temperature seemed to drop. He said, “Don’t wait outside next time.”

Wei Jiayi huddled into his seat, his face pale, and gazed at Zhao Jing. “I wouldn’t be able to see clearly from inside.” His tone was both considerate and gentle.

Caught under that gaze, Zhao Jing suddenly lost interest in driving. He wanted to know just how cold Wei Jiayi’s skin was. Reaching out, he touched Wei Jiayi’s face—it was freezing. Leaning in, he kissed Wei Jiayi’s lips, holding the kiss for a moment to confirm the temperature. Then he remarked, “I knew you’d be cold.”

“Really?” Wei Jiayi smiled suddenly and said, “Then why don’t we go upstairs? My apartment is really warm.”

“That won’t do.” Zhao Jing thought Wei Jiayi was being silly. “I’m taking you somewhere bigger and warmer.”

Wei Jiayi looked at him expectantly, and Zhao Jing announced, “My museum.”