Chapter 28: Acting on His Own
The moment his teeth closed on Tang Yu’s arm, the pain in Ji Qian’ang’s body truly did ease—and he no longer had to guess whether the concern was real or feigned. Just as, in the moment Tang Yu had nearly gone over, he had lunged without hesitation, heedless of consequence, one thought filling his mind: Tang Yu must not fall into the sea.
And so he thought—when Tang Yu had held out his arm, the other had simply been thinking: Ji Qian’ang must be in pain. If he bites, maybe it will get better.
The ship’s doctor soon finished binding the gauze, gave Ji Qian’ang his list of instructions, and left.
Only the two of them remained in the infirmary. The moment the bandaging was done, Tang Yu snatched his arm back—two neat rows of dark red tooth marks stamped into it. He didn’t know where to put the arm, at a loss.
Tang Yu wanted to find some topic to ease an atmosphere that felt, to him, unbearably awkward—but though he thought for a long while, nothing came. If he asked the man why he had saved him, the answer was a fixed one: Your grandmother told me to… Your grandmother told me to…
While his mind wandered, Ji Qian’ang spoke first. “Did you think your brother was acting strange just now?”
“Ah?” Tang Yu thought back over everything from the corridor to the viewing platform. “Juefei-ge wanted to see the bioluminescent sea, so we went over together. Who knew a whole crowd would come running out halfway there.”
Ji Qian’ang had no words. This one had a truly generous heart—sold off one day, he’d probably help count the money.
“Stop wandering off. Nearly gave your life over some bioluminescent sea.”
“But you saved it back, didn’t you…”
Ji Qian’ang: “…”
He could not, after all, spend a lifetime at his side.
*
In the lower hold, fine shards of broken glass carpeted a small patch of the cabin floor.
Lin Juefei curled both knees beneath him and knelt onto it without hesitation, the pain arriving double-fold.
He bit his lower lip and made no sound, though his eyes had long since gone red-rimmed. As the kneeling stretched on, the pain crested and passed, leaving only a numb, throbbing heat.
He Zhuokun sat in a metal chair a short distance away, legs crossed, an unlit cigar held between his fingers. His voice came low. “Anything you’d like to say?”
Lin Juefei lifted his head. His eyes were scarlet to the rims, tears swirling inside that refused, somehow, to fall.
He bit his lip, shoulders trembling. “Mr. He… what should A-Fei say?”
He Zhuokun asked, “Who was that man.”
Lin Juefei’s eyes darted away. “Mr. He, A-Fei doesn’t know. He just came charging out of nowhere. I don’t know him…”
He Zhuokun flicked ash from his fingers, his expression, hidden behind the mask, dark past all concealing.
“I don’t know him,” Lin Juefei repeated in a hushed voice, as if cowed. “I tried to hold A-Yu and couldn’t. He stomped my hand and ran. Mr. He, you know me—I’ve always thought of A-Yu as my own little brother. How could I ever…”
He choked down the rest, and the tears came pouring down.
He Zhuokun’s hand braced against his temple, past any patience for excuses. His voice turned abruptly cold. “I told you to bring him here. Not to get him killed!”
Since his return to the country, every task He Zhuokun had assigned him seemed tied to Tang Yu. He didn’t know when He Zhuokun had first noticed Tang Yu—had him smuggle imported supplements into Tang Yu’s hands, watch over him from the shadows, and now even bring the man here to meet him in person.
From nineteen, when he first followed at He Zhuokun’s side, he had asked A-Chuang what sort of person the gentleman liked. A-Chuang had said the master’s tastes were changeable—though most of the time he favored boys both unruly and submissive.
Was he, Lin Juefei, not unruly and submissive enough? Four whole years—and why would He Zhuokun fix his notice on so rebellious a son of the Tang family, without ever once looking him in the eye?
Lin Juefei’s lips trembled, and still he couldn’t help himself. “Mr. He cares for him so much…”
“Silence!”
“I went to make small talk about art, and left a cloak with him when I went. I wanted Tang Yu to come away from tonight feeling it had all been rather pleasant.”
“And in three minutes, you very nearly threw him off this ship!” The roar tore out of He Zhuokun, past all restraint, his usual composure gone entirely.
“It was part of the plan—he was never supposed to—”
He Zhuokun cut him off, gaze gone icy, his voice carrying a chill. “Not supposed to what? He is the one I came to see. Do you know how long I have waited?”
Lin Juefei’s tears burst forth. He pitched forward, both hands driving down into the broken glass, blood welling and running across the cabin floor. “Mr. He… A-Fei was wrong. Truly wrong. A-Fei never knew it would be like this.”
His voice hitched. “I only wanted so badly for you to look at me… Every time your eyes go to him, I— I can’t bear it…”
He Zhuokun gave a cold snort, looking down at him. “You believe I ought to look at you?”
Lin Juefei bit his lip, kneeling prone on the floor, giving no answer—curled into the shattered glass, small and abject.
He Zhuokun asked again, patience thinning. “And the jacket? Explain that.”
Lin Juefei’s face darkened visibly. The jacket had been prepared for He Zhuokun—he had never imagined He Zhuokun would take it off and drape it over Tang Yu himself.
“Mr. He, the jacket came from A-Chuang. He said you’d told him to have me keep it ready, that the wind would be cold at night… I don’t know what was on it. Mr. He, A-Fei truly didn’t know.”
He spoke earnestly, scalding tears falling in strings—as if he were the one implicated, the most innocent and ignorant of them all.
He Zhuokun’s patience seemed spent. His gaze turned razor-cold. “I will ask you one more time. Who prepared the jacket?”
“You think I don’t know what was in the cuff?”
Cornered, Lin Juefei’s lips went white, his gaze sliding everywhere, tears and voice breaking together. “Mr. He, the pills—I had someone buy them for me—”
“I kept them in the jacket—I meant to take them myself. I haven’t been sleeping well. The doctor prescribed them and said they would help me relax.”
“I—I forgot to take them out. I didn’t know you would give the jacket to A-Yu. Mr. He, believe me.”
He Zhuokun was silent a long while. Then he walked over, crouched, and seized his chin, forcing it up with tremendous force. “Four years you have followed me. You know what I despise most.”
The man before him went mute. “…Acting on my own.”
“Did it ever occur to you the Tang family might trace it back to you? And then what would you do?”
“I…” For a moment Lin Juefei had nothing.
“How would you bear it? You moved against him. Did you think you could contain it?”
He Zhuokun’s grip eased slightly, his thumb sliding from Lin Juefei’s chin down to close around the side of his neck, each word dropped like a stone. “What I have not told you to do, you will not do—not one thing. What I give you, take. What I have not given you—don’t think of it, and don’t reach for it.”
“Whoever surrounds him is no concern of yours. Do only what I tell you. One thing more—and you needn’t stay in Hong Kong.”
Lin Juefei’s head snapped up, his face deathly pale, voice shaking. “Mr. He! You cannot send me away!”
He dragged his knees forward, the glass driving deeper—but he never once glanced down at the wounds, only held his head up toward He Zhuokun, begging like a dog wagging its tail, lowly as dust.
The words spilled out incoherent. “If I don’t stay in Hong Kong, where do I go… I have no home. I was abandoned at the Tang family’s as a child—no one wanted me… It was you who made me feel I was useful. It was you who made me feel I wasn’t something extra…”
His voice rang clearer and clearer between the sobs. “This life of mine is yours! Order me to do anything—kill, burn, it’s all the same. But to stand there watching you cling to him… Mr. He, I can’t. I truly can’t!”
He lied—drove his own position to the very bottom of the abyss—all for one condescending glance from the man on high, as if a single look bestowed, a single word of concern, were favor beyond all measure.
In He Zhuokun’s dark brown eyes, at last, a flicker of being moved—and then it was gone, everything as before. “Lin Juefei. Your life is your own.”
“It isn’t!”
Lin Juefei’s voice rose to meet him. “If you hadn’t picked me up off that pier back then, I’d be dead! You told me I needn’t kneel to you, that my life was my own—but Mr. He… I want to kneel. My life is what you gave me. I gave it freely.”
“Mr. He, I’m already like this,” he murmured, eyes lowered, tears striking the back of He Zhuokun’s hand and rolling off toward the shattered glass. “I can no longer be without you…”
For one instant He Zhuokun went still, staring down at the man kneeling in the glass—blood seeping without pause from knees and palms, the pale, narrow face streaked with tears.
He simply knelt there—no pleading, no cries of pain—as if he had laid out every fragile, faithful bone in his body and held them up in both hands for He Zhuokun to see.
He Zhuokun’s hand closed around Lin Juefei’s slim, pale neck and drew him forward—control still his. “I won’t send you away. And I’ll overlook tonight. But remember this.”
He turned his head and bit down hard, vicious, into the side of Lin Juefei’s neck. A muffled grunt broke from Lin Juefei, his body shuddering—then leaning into it, chin coming to rest on He Zhuokun’s shoulder, trembling fingers clutching at the fabric of his clothes, as if to press the bite-mark deeper.
Lin Juefei shook all over, sobbing without pause, his eyes carrying an ingratiating submission. “Mr. He—bite again… please, bite again…”
But He Zhuokun released him. A bruised-violet ring of teeth now marked the man’s neck, beading blood at its edges. “The next time, it will not be so simple as a bite here.”
Lin Juefei tipped his head back, lips parted, tears still clinging to his lashes, and asked, very softly, “Then where will you bite, Mr. He…”
He Zhuokun: “…”
“Go below and get bandaged.” He Zhuokun turned his head, pried Lin Juefei’s fingers from his hem, and rose.
“Mr. He.” Lin Juefei didn’t move. He held his head up, face streaked with tears, a thin whimper under his breath. “Mr. He, it hurts…”
“My wrists. My knees. And here, too.” He touched the place over his own left breast.
He Zhuokun paused, then turned his head aside. “A-Chuang. Bandage him.”
“Mr. He—”
“Tonight… will you think of me…”
“No.”
The answer was clean and instant. He didn’t even turn his head.
Lin Juefei knelt in the broken glass, blood pooling across the floor.
He watched that retreating back grow ever more distant, then looked down at his own ruined, mangled palms—and smiled, faintly, murmuring: “You won’t send me away. Words spoken aloud can’t be taken back…”