Chapter 16: Currents Beneath the Surface
The news came on the evening of the third day.
Sheng Linyou was chopping vegetables when Yin Xigui answered the phone. Through the half-open kitchen door, he heard Xigui say in a lower voice, “I understand. I'll come back tomorrow.”
“Who was it?”
“My father. He wants me home for dinner—to discuss an arranged marriage.”
Xigui leaned against the kitchen doorway, fingers kneading his hem in a habitual gesture of self-comfort.
“I'll go with you,” Sheng Linyou said.
“He ordered me to come alone. Wait here for me, Brother. I promise I'll return before dark.”
When Sheng did not answer, Xigui wrapped his arms around him from behind and rested his chin on his shoulder.
“It's only dinner. He's my biological father. At worst, he'll scold me.”
Sheng turned slightly and saw the tension beneath the firelight in Xigui's eyes.
“Promise me.”
“I promise. I'll bring you something delicious.”
The next day, Sheng straightened Xigui's collar at the entryway.
“Why are you so clingy today, Brother?”
“Stop talking and come home early.”
After the door closed, Sheng listened to the footsteps recede, then went to the balcony. The car waiting at the alley carried Xigui away. Before entering it, the pink-haired figure looked back toward the house and paused.
The Yin residence had laid a long table. Yin Zhengsong sat at its head, Yin Rui at his right, and Yin Ou farther away with gauze still taped to his face.
Xigui took the seat at the far end.
Only the soft clatter of chopsticks broke the silence until Yin Zhengsong said, “The Li family believes you and Li Nian get along well. The engagement will be set next month.”
“Father, I would like more time. Marriage shouldn't be rushed.”
Yin Ou sneered. “You're an illegitimate son. You should be grateful the Li family will take you.”
Yin Rui intervened mildly. “Xigui has a point, but an engagement next month won't prevent them from continuing to learn about each other.”
Yin Zhengsong accepted Yin Rui's words immediately. “Then it is settled.”
Xigui chewed one peanut for a long time before asking, with carefully measured hesitation, what would happen to the house where he lived after the engagement.
His father's chopsticks stopped.
“Are you afraid I'll take it away? Yin Xigui, have you been hiding something from me lately?”
Xigui's shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly. When he looked up, his face showed just enough confusion and hurt.
“How would I dare? Li Nian visits often. I need somewhere to receive her, and the house is quieter than the family residence.”
His expression was clean and guileless, like a wronged junior too timid to defend himself loudly.
“She visits you?”
“Several times. We get along very well.”
Yin Zhengsong's suspicion eased. “Is that lower-tier still living there?”
“Yes. He's well behaved and never disturbs us when Li Nian comes.”
Yin Rui set down his teacup. “That lower-tier looked capable in the teahouse. Is it safe for you to live with him?”
“He's good to me, and Lin Zhi's guards accompany me outside.”
Yin Rui nodded, rotating his wrist slightly as he picked up food. He always turned his chopsticks that way while calculating something.
Xigui drank soup to conceal the sharpness rising in his eyes.
The meal lasted nearly an hour. He answered every question softly and properly: he was getting to know Li Nian, his studies were progressing, and Miss Li was pleasant. Every word was airtight, every expression exact.
Yin Rui asked three trivial questions, studying him afterward like a snake watching prey that believed itself hidden.
As Xigui left, Yin Zhengsong paused beside him, seemed about to speak, then merely said, “Be careful on the road.”
In the corridor, Yin Rui followed, opening and closing a lighter with sharp clicks.
“Interested in finance lately?”
Xigui's heart sank, though he only tilted his head. “How did you know?”
“Someone saw you reading finance books at the library. You used to hate them.”
“I want to learn. If I'm marrying into the Li family, I should eventually manage something instead of relying on Father and you.”
Yin Rui stared for three or four seconds—long enough for cold sweat to gather on Xigui's back—then smiled and patted his shoulder.
“You've grown up. That's good.”
Only after his footsteps vanished did Xigui exhale.
Outside, night wind chilled his damp back. In the car he found no unread message, hesitated, then called Sheng.
“Finished dinner?” Sheng answered after one ring.
“I'm on my way home. Brother, I want tangyuan.”
“At this hour?”
“I just do.”
With helpless indulgence, Sheng checked the freezer. “I think there are some.”
“Wait until I return to cook them.”
“All right.”
Xigui closed his eyes as streetlights streamed past. The click of Yin Rui's lighter repeated in his head like a countdown.
When the car entered the alley, he saw warm light spilling from the house. His grip on the phone relaxed.
He ran across the courtyard. Before his key reached the lock, the door opened.
Sheng stood there in an old charcoal T-shirt, hair tousled, holding a small pot of steaming tangyuan.
“Perfect timing. They're ready.”
Xigui's eyes heated. He rushed into Sheng's chest.
“Brother, you're too good to me.”
“What happened now?”
“Nothing. I suddenly missed you.”
“The tangyuan will get cold.”
“Then feed me.”
“You keep demanding more.”
Sheng nevertheless filled a bowl, sat beside him, cooled one dumpling, and held it to his mouth. Xigui ate with puffed cheeks and a satisfied smile.
“Black sesame. Of course it's good.”
When Sheng offered another, Xigui caught his wrist and kissed the corner of his mouth.
“The filling is sweet,” he murmured.
Sheng set down the spoon, cupped the back of Xigui's neck, and kissed him. The lingering sweetness between Xigui's lips was warm and dense. The kiss was not brutal, but its force allowed no retreat, trapping him between the sofa and Sheng's arm.
When they separated, their foreheads touched. Xigui's lips were red and damp, his lashes trembling.
“Brother, the tangyuan aren't finished.”
Sheng brushed pink hair from his brow. Xigui rubbed against his palm, then slowly finished the bowl himself.
Sheng's gaze settled on the fading blue bruise at his nape.
“Does it still hurt?”
“Not at all.”
Xigui curled into his arms with his head on Sheng's lap. Sheng combed his fingers through the soft pink strands until Xigui's breathing steadied.
Earlier, Lin Zhi had sent Sheng a terse message: Yin Rui checked the original permission records for your collar today.
Sheng had dismissed it without replying.
Now Xigui slept peacefully on his lap. Xigui was investigating Yin Rui. Yin Rui was investigating the collar. Lin Zhi maneuvered between them, and Li Nian was helping.
Sheng said nothing. He only pulled the fallen blanket over Xigui.