Chapter 29: Fondness

Chapter 29: Fondness

He Zhuokun had touched him three times tonight—chin, neck, collarbone. Lin Juefei would not wash them off. He would never wash them off, not in this lifetime.

Slowly, he braced himself against the wall, knees aching so badly he could barely stand—yet at last he pushed himself upright on trembling legs. He did not wipe the tears from his face. He only clenched his hand into a fist, driving the shards of glass deeper.

A-Chuang came over with the first-aid kit, but Lin Juefei refused the bandaging, his voice raw. "The man who rammed Tang Yu tonight—find someone with a clean identity to take the fall."

A-Chuang nodded, then asked once more, "Mr. Lin, your hand. If this goes on, the wound will fester."

"A-Chuang's bandaging is... good."

Lin Juefei lifted bloodshot eyes to him, gave a soft scoff, and stopped resisting.

Something like a smile, barely detectable, crossed A-Chuang's hard face. He helped Lin Juefei into a chair, crouched, opened the kit, and with a pair of tweezers drew the shards of glass out of his palm.

Up on the yacht's top deck, He Zhuokun watched the guests moving below with dark, unreadable eyes. A black-suited bodyguard came up at once. "Mr. He, the Ji boy is guarding him too closely. Do you want us to—"

He Zhuokun waved him off. "Where's the fun if he isn't guarded well?"

He set the cigar between his lips and moved closer to the railing, eyes lowered, watching.

Below, Tang Yu stood alone at the deck's edge on the lower level, fingertips tapping the railing in a slow, even rhythm, gazing out at the ink-dark sea.

He Zhuokun studied Tang Yu's slender white hands, the knuckles sharply defined, again and again.

At some point Nangong Min had come up behind him. "And what, may I ask, is the meaning of this?" he teased.

He Zhuokun gave a low laugh. "Tonight's gathering? I merely brought the Young Master out to look at some paintings. Nothing more to it."

At two in the morning, the yacht slowly came alongside. The night sea wind carried a chill.

Tang Yu came down the gangway, hunching his neck against the wind without thinking. Ji Qian'ang walked five or six paces behind him.

The ship's doctor had rebandaged Ji Qian'ang's right hand—the gauze wound from the web of his thumb all the way to the wrist bone, layer upon layer, like a white wrist guard.

Tang Yu glanced at it a few times before finally managing, "When you get back to the old house, don't get it wet. Doctor's orders."

He turned his face away and was about to quicken his pace when a voice called from behind: "Xiao Yu."

Tang Yu turned. He Zhuokun stood at the top of the gangway, walking quickly toward him, holding out a paper bag.

Ji Qian'ang, tactful, stopped where he was and came no closer.

Apology showed plainly on He Zhuokun's face, though his speech was measured, unhurried. "What happened tonight was a lapse in the ship's security. You were frightened."

He held the bag out. "This tin of hot chocolate mix—I had someone blend it to a recipe of mine. Take it home and make yourself a cup."

Tang Yu blinked, looking down at the gift box inside, tied with gold thread. "Mr. He, you're too kind. I couldn't..."

He Zhuokun smiled. "Take it. Next time we meet, tell me whether it was any good."

Tang Yu could hardly refuse again, and accepted it.

He was turning to leave when He Zhuokun spoke again, regret heavy in his voice. "Such a shame—the accident, and you never got to see the exhibition. I remember Yifeng... loved exhibitions too."

At that familiar name, Tang Yu's head snapped up, staring at He Zhuokun in shock—he nearly fumbled the paper bag. But he forced down the surge of emotion. "You knew him?"

The question escaped before he could stop it. Tang Yu didn't know where the feeling had come from. He stole a glance at Ji Qian'ang, not far off, gauging whether the other could hear them.

Since Tang Yifeng's death, no one in the Tang family had ever mentioned him in public. To this day, Ji Qian'ang did not even know Tang Yu had a brother.

For He Zhuokun to name him so openly—it inevitably set Tang Yu's heart pounding.

He Zhuokun saw the agitation and tension in him, apology in his eyes. "Forgive me, Xiao Yu. I shouldn't have brought him up like that."

"It's only that I've known Juefei so long—things come up in conversation. I met Yifeng once, years ago, and learned he had a deep love of art exhibitions too."

Tang Yu only nodded.

Before boarding, Tang Yu had been looking forward to the exhibition. But after what happened at the observation deck—after Ji Qian'ang had taken fifteen stitches in his right arm saving him—a weight had settled in his chest, and he no longer cared about the paintings.

Now He Zhuokun's mention that Tang Yifeng had shared that interest moved him once more, briefly.

Tang Yu tightened his grip on the paper bag and pressed his lips together. "Next time there's a chance will be soon enough."

He Zhuokun laughed, hearty and open, and gave Tang Yu's shoulder a light pat. After a few minutes of easy talk, he personally saw him off the yacht—then told Lin Juefei there was still business to discuss with him, that he would return later.

Twenty meters behind Tang Yu—

Lin Juefei stood at the edge of the pier, legs trembling faintly, an unlit cigarette clenched in his hand.

The two figures—Tang Yu and Ji Qian'ang, side by side—receded into the distance. Lin Juefei's eyes were rimmed red, his attention nailed to the paper bag Ji Qian'ang had volunteered to carry.

That bag of hot chocolate mix—a week ago, He Zhuokun had him personally supervise its preparation. He had wondered then: what was there to supervise about a thing like this?

Now Lin Juefei knew. Because He Zhuokun had meant to put it into Tang Yu's hands.

And what had He Zhuokun ever given him?

The cigarette in his hand snapped into pieces; blood seeped through the fresh bandage. The thought vanished with the broken cigarette.

Ask yourself, Lin Juefei—haven't you asked for too much? Didn't you say, at the very beginning, that it would be enough just to stay by He Zhuokun's side?

But he was insatiable. He was addicted to being loved. And he could not bear to watch He Zhuokun be kind to anyone but him.

He clenched his fist again; the bandage bloomed scarlet with fresh blood.

*

It was well past midnight when Lin Juefei returned to the old house, suit jacket draped over his arm, collar loose and rumpled. He paid no mind to the faint bite mark showing at his throat.

He came in through the side door, not wanting to wake anyone, and steadied himself on the banister up to the second floor—where he found Ji Qian'ang leaning against the wall nearby, one hand in his pocket, as if waiting for someone.

"So late, and you're still not resting?" Lin Juefei asked.

"The yacht tonight. You took Tang Yu there."

"I did."

"You said you wanted to see the bioluminescent sea."

"That's right." Lin Juefei's mouth curved. "A pity the clouds were too thick—didn't see a thing. The October bioluminescence in Repulse Bay is rare to begin with. You have to wait for the north wind, for the water to cool a few more degrees—"

Ji Qian'ang cut him off. "Where did you hear that Repulse Bay has bioluminescence in October?"

The air went still for several seconds.

In October, the water temperature in Repulse Bay still held above twenty-four degrees.

Any local knew the noctiluca's bloom season rarely began before December. Lin Juefei had lived in Repulse Bay for nearly twenty years—had a few years studying abroad really wiped it all from his memory?

Ji Qian'ang didn't press. Lin Juefei lowered his eyes, considered a moment, then answered in a mild voice, "Someone on the boat mentioned it. I haven't seen it since I went abroad—a passing whim."

"The man who charged at him—the one who rammed Tang Yu. Do you know him?"

Lin Juefei's face didn't change. He walked a few steps forward, his back to Ji Qian'ang. "Don't know him. A waiter from the yacht—had too much to drink. Mr. He has handled it."

Ji Qian'ang straightened from the wall. A few seconds of silence. "Then there's just one thing I want to ask you."

Lin Juefei was too tired for words. A husky, "Mm."

"The snow globe in Tang Yu's room. Do you know who gave it to him?"

Lin Juefei's expression didn't flicker, as if he'd heard of something absurd. "What snow globe?"

"Glass. Shake it and it snows."

"I don't remember any such globe." Lin Juefei frowned, impatience threading through his weariness. "If you want to know, ask him directly."

Seeing Ji Qian'ang's impassive face, Lin Juefei said, "You protected A-Yu well on the water today. Grandmother would be pleased to hear it."

"But some things are not yours to meddle in."

"Do the work a companion is meant to do. Stay close to A-Yu and keep watch over him. That is already a great help to the Tang family."

"And don't forget the thing I asked you to find."

Having said exactly as much as he intended, Lin Juefei turned and continued toward his bedroom.

Ji Qian'ang stood with one hand in his pocket, the dim yellow ceiling light spilling down over his head.

He had no mind for anything else now. His thoughts circled the snow globe—or rather, circled Tang Yu.

He had already had the raised base of the snow globe examined. The serial number etched into its circuit board traced back to a batch of surveillance equipment that had flowed in from overseas.

Lin Juefei had only recently returned from abroad—but from his reaction just now, reacting as though the globe had been placed in front of him for the first time, a gift he knew nothing about, he seemed wholly unaware.

Lin Juefei had explicitly ordered him to get close to Tang Yu and search for that thing. There was no reason for Lin Juefei to risk his own skin planting a surveillance device—besides, that snow globe had been sitting on Tang Yu's bookshelf for a long while now.

So Lin Juefei had no motive to spy on Tang Yu at all.

The snow globe had almost certainly not been planted by anyone in this old house. Then... who, in the end, had put it there?

Ji Qian'ang frowned, thinking.