That night at the bar, they probably kissed. But the memory was so jumbled that Lu Nanyang had no recollection of it.
If it did happen, it must’ve been accompanied by biting, blood, and pain—completely different from now.
Xie Quan’s lips were soft, hot, and a bit dry. But that didn’t matter. Saliva quickly seeped from between their lips, wetting their tangled mouths, turning fevered breaths into something sensual.
Before Lu Nanyang could even fully register the shape of Xie Quan’s lips, the latter had already shoved him forcefully against the wall, his limp body pressing up without restraint. A stifled groan was swallowed between lips and teeth, and the narrow space was filled with ambiguous, suggestive sounds.
Lu Nanyang gripped the back of Xie Quan’s head, his fingers threading through his soft hair—surprisingly soft, like a docile kitten. Whatever nerve he hit, Xie Quan shuddered with excitement, let out an impatient whimper from his throat, and pushed his hips against Lu Nanyang’s thigh.
Then those pale gray eyes half-lidded, like a cat high on catnip, and he whispered in a hoarse voice, “Nanyang.”
…Shit.
Lu Nanyang’s breath scattered against Xie Quan’s ear. Sweat-dampened bangs clung to his forehead, and every place Xie Quan had touched felt like it was set ablaze. A current surged through him, pooling in an unspeakable place.
Just then, Lu Nanyang suddenly heard someone opening the door. His reflexes kicked in—he shoved Xie Quan away by the shoulders.
A group of girls walked into the adjacent women’s restroom, chatting and laughing. Moments later, their voices faded into silence.
Only then did Lu Nanyang’s heart finally return to his chest. He looked back at Xie Quan.
Xie Quan leaned against the stall door, his chest heaving. His lips were red, swollen, and glistening from the kiss, looking seductively ripe. Without the glasses to shield them, his half-closed gray eyes were even more beautiful and dazed, a far cry from his usual self—like he was still trapped in some blissful dream.
Lu Nanyang must’ve really lost his mind to go along with Xie Quan’s madness like that.
He checked his phone. Only three minutes left until the court session resumed.
“Put your glasses on. I’ll call a cab for you—you go home first.” Lu Nanyang fished out Xie Quan’s glasses and perched them on his nose. Xie Quan didn’t react the whole time, just kept his eyes lowered and smiled at him.
Lu Nanyang clicked his tongue, feeling his patience wearing thin. He yanked Xie Quan’s arm and dragged him out. Xie Quan didn’t resist, stumbling a few steps but obediently letting himself be pulled along.
Lu Nanyang held onto Xie Quan with one hand while calling a ride with the other. A few people passed by in the courthouse corridor—some glanced at them, some didn’t even look up, preoccupied with their own affairs.
The courthouse was full of strange stories and heartbroken people. Two men walking out of a bathroom holding hands was nothing.
Unexpectedly, just as they stepped outside, a car pulled up in front of them. No need to call one now. Lu Nanyang pocketed his phone and looked back at Xie Quan. Xie Quan’s head rested on his shoulder, his glasses askew, his eyes half-lidded like he was falling asleep.
Lu Nanyang braced Xie Quan under the arm and opened the door for him, giving him a push so he stumbled into the back seat.
“Where to?” the driver asked after rolling down the window.
Lu Nanyang gave him Xie Quan’s address. Worried he wouldn’t be able to pay in his current state, he handed the driver a hundred-yuan bill. “Keep the change.”
Just as Lu Nanyang took a step back to close the door, he felt someone tugging on his shirt.
He looked down and saw Xie Quan tightly clutching his hem, eyes rimmed red, lashes damp.
“Don’t go…” Xie Quan’s voice was choked with sobs. “Don’t leave me.”
Lu Nanyang’s brain froze. In that moment, only one thought remained:
Xie Quan really wasn’t acting normal.
…….
At noon, after changing his grip on the steering wheel for the thirtieth time, Chen Zige finally saw Lu Nanyang walking out of the courthouse.
He rolled down the window and yelled, Lu Nanyang! Over here! What the hell, were you taking a dump in there? Took you long enough!”
Damn, what a disaster.
Lu Nanyang quickly walked up to the car, poking his finger at the window. “If I ever miss a commission, you’re taking full responsibility.”
Chen Zige grinned like a smug bastard. “How is it my fault? It’s not like you haven’t done this before. I still remember back in elementary school, you went to that wedding, clogged the hall toilet, and ran out crying in front of everyone—”
“Are you done yet?” Lu Nanyang raised his hand.
Chen Zige dodged with a laugh and opened the passenger door. “My bad, my bad, bro—get in.”
Lu Nanyang got in and buckled up. It had to be said, though Chen Zige was always carefree, his car was very clean, with a faint scent of incense.
As he started the car, Chen Zige asked, “So? Verdict came down already?”
“Yeah, in court,” Lu Nanyang replied. “Not much suspense. Homeowner didn’t know or agree, so of course the property stays as-is.”
“Nice. That makes it easier for you to report back to your professor.” Then Chen Zige smirked, “Though I heard the homeowner suddenly vanished mid-trial.”
Lu Nanyang glanced at him. “The case just ended. Who told you that? Don’t tell me you were eavesdropping at the courtroom door.”
“I wasn’t! Don’t make me sound so sketchy!” Chen Zige protested loudly. “I know one of the bailiffs. He was at your trial just now and messaged me right after.”
“…Delete that friend,” Lu Nanyang said flatly. “He’s not worth keeping.”
“Other people don’t even know you’re in court, why are you getting so worked up?” Chen Zigao said, confused.
“You got a cigarette?” Lu Nanyang sat up straight, eyes searching the car.
“Yeah, in the drawer to your left.”
Lu Nanyang opened the compartment in front of him and found a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
“When did you start smoking again?” Chen Zige turned to glance at him. “I remember you quit in senior year of high school.”
“I did quit,” Lu Nanyang said, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it with frustration. “Just really wanted one today.”
The flickering flame lit the cigarette. Chen Zige rolled down the window for him. Lu Nanyang gazed out at the retreating scenery, exhaling a stream of smoke and watching it get swept away by the fast-moving air, vanishing in an instant.
“I heard the homeowner got totally cussed out by the plaintiff and ended up crying in the restroom during the recess,” Chen Zige kept chattering. “Honestly, you’re pretty impressive. I didn’t think you’d actually get someone to testify. Do you know what the relationship is between that Xie Quan and Liu Qiuyan? Turns out they’re actually—”
“I don’t know,” Lu Nanyang interrupted, flicking ash off his cigarette with a hand resting on the windowsill. “And I honestly don’t care to know.”
Only then did Chen Zige finally notice something. “Wait… do you know that Xie Quan guy? You two… are friends?”
“Wouldn’t call it friends,” Lu Nanyang said, eyes lowering to the monotonously retreating asphalt road.
Chen Zige took a moment to glance at him before turning back to the road and clicking his tongue. “You don’t look like it’s ‘not friends’ to me. Fine, I won’t say anything more. You can talk to him yourself when you get the chance.”
Then he muttered under his breath, “Do a guy a favor and I end up the one who talks too much.”
…….
But despite what he said, Lu Nanyang didn’t see Xie Quan again—not once in the following half month.
The moment he got home that day, the first thing he did was send Xie Quan a message on WeChat:
Xiang Nanyang: Did you get home okay?
He waited the whole day and into the night, but got no reply. Before going to bed, he sent another message:
Xiang Nanyang: If you’re still feeling unwell, don’t forget to see a doctor.
After sending that, Lu Nanyang let out a bitter laugh. The guy was a doctor himself, and yet he’d ended up in such a mess. Go figure.
But the next day, still no reply.
Lu Nanyang had pretty much expected this. That day in court, he—someone who wasn’t even considered a friend—had accidentally seen too much of what he shouldn’t have. Knowing Xie Quan’s temperament, he was probably already blocked.
Lu Nanyang typed “diazepam” into the search engine and skimmed through a few articles. A few keywords bounced around in his head:
Anti-anxiety, anti-epileptic, sedative, muscle relaxant, memory suppression… Commonly used for anxiety and insomnia… Side effects include drowsiness, fatigue, nausea, vomiting, blurred vision… Long-term use can lead to dependence and addiction…
Classified as a Schedule II psychotropic drug in China—strictly regulated, prescription-only.
Lu Nanyang instinctively hit the lock screen and flung the phone onto the bed, digging his fingers into his hair. His breathing quickened, his throat clogged like it was stuffed with cotton.
A hookup shouldn’t see this kind of vulnerability. Not that he even counted as a hookup.
