Chapter 2 – A Chaotic Gay Mess
by Salted FishAfter that remark, another suffocating silence fell between them. Neither spoke. The buzzing sound from Wei Lai stopped, and Chu Yin transformed from a seductive big cat into a hopeless salted fish.
Wei Lai spoke in a placating tone, “Brother, since you’re already here. How about this—you take charge this time, and I’ll do it next time, deal?”
Chu Yin shot him a glance. Based on Wei Lai’s outfit, it was obvious that someone of his status would never arrange a second meetup with the same person. This was just a lie to trick him into being the top.
Just like Chen Meixian—every single one of them was full of lies!
Furious and ready to throw caution to the wind, Chu Yin yanked off his mask, folded it neatly, and placed it on the nightstand before flopping onto the pillow. “I booked this room, and I’m going to sleep. You can stay if you want, but if not, get the hell out.”
Wei Lai froze—not because of Chu Yin’s harsh tone, but because he recognized him.
He had a grudge against Chu Yin’s manager, Chen Meixian, and by extension, disliked Chu Yin too. When Chu Yin’s scandal broke, Wei Lai had even taken the opportunity to kick him while he was down. Never in his wildest dreams did he think they’d end up hooking up.
Wei Lai: “Chu Yin?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” Chu Yin didn’t even open his eyes. “Take pictures if you want, leak whatever you want. I don’t care.”
“I’m Wei Lai.”
Chu Yin’s eyelids twitched, and he opened his eyes to look at the man pouring water beside him. He’d never met Wei Lai in person but had often heard his name from Chen Meixian’s mouth—the ruthless top-tier manager, the pimping bastard, the insane little bitch. But the one thing that stuck with Chu Yin the most was—
After a moment of serious contemplation, Chu Yin solemnly declared, “Aren’t you the ‘Rich Lady’s Happy Stick’? Why aren’t you a 1?”
Wei Lai shot back, “And aren’t you the one they call ‘The Human Jackhammer’? Laozi really trusted those damn paparazzi too much.”
Chu Yin fell silent. He’d earned that nickname after the threesome scandal broke, and he absolutely loathed it. His irritation with Wei Lai grew even stronger.
“Get out.”
“Oho!” Wei Lai, however, grew more intrigued. “So fierce?”
Chu Yin couldn’t be bothered to waste words on him. He got up and started putting his clothes back on. Wei Lai made a sound of protest, then hooked Chu Yin’s mask with his finger, spinning it around by the ear loop with a teasing smirk.
“Chu Yin, do you know how many paparazzi are dying to get a shot of you? If you walk out of this hotel bare-faced tonight, and then tomorrow they catch a shot of me—the infamous trash—leaving the same place, how do you think they’ll spin it?”
“I don’t care.” Though Chu Yin said that, his feet refused to move. “Give me back my mask. Or I’ll punch you.”
“Punch me?” Wei Lai tilted his face up. “You’ll have to put away your orchid fingers1A delicate hand gesture with a pinky raised from traditional Chinese opera, meant to convey elegance and femininity. Often used as a stereotype for an effeminate man. first if you want to sound convincing.”
Chu Yin: “…”
When agitated, Chu Yin had a habit of pointing with his pinky raised. Called out, he quickly curled it into a fist instead.
Wei Lai smirked like a bitch, spreading his arms and cooing, “Go on, gege2Big brother, hit my chest with your little fists~”
Chen Meixian had cheated countless times, but his taste never changed—always the delicate, pretty-boy type, the complete opposite of Chu Yin, the kind who loved speaking in the same sickly-sweet tone Wei Lai was using now.
If only Chu Yin had eaten some peanuts while drinking, he wouldn’t have lost his temper like this. Though his vision was still blurry, he clenched his fist and swung at Wei Lai’s face with full force.
Chu Yin: “AHHHHHHH!!!!”
Wei Lai never expected Chu Yin to actually hit him. The world went black as he was knocked off the bed, a sharp pain shooting from his nose straight to the crown of his head. A few drops of blood splattered onto the pristine white tiles.
Chu Yin had lunged at Wei Lai to punch him and collapsed onto the bed afterward. Hearing Wei Lai’s agonized howl, he jerked his head up in shock, only to be horrified by the sight of Wei Lai’s blood-streaked face. “AHHHHHHH!!!!”
Blood gushed from Wei Lai’s nose as he roared, “I’m the one who got hit! Why are you screaming?! Are you a reincarnated groundhog or something?!”
Chu Yin’s voice shot up an octave in panic. “Don’t get worked up! The blood’s spraying everywhere!!!”
After a chaotic gay mess of a struggle, Wei Lai lay flat on the bed, his nostrils stuffed with wads of tissue. Chu Yin leaned over and slapped an ice-packed towel onto his forehead.
“Sorry.” Chu Yin flopped down beside him and muttered, “I’m in a bad mood today, and you provoked me. Who told you to be so punchable?”
Wei Lai rolled his eyes and retorted through gritted teeth, “So it’s my fault now?”
“Obviously,” Chu Yin glared. “You were the one who hit on me first at the bar.”
At the bar, Wei Lai had thought he’d found the ultimate 1. But as the saying goes, “If you play with fire, you’ll get burned.” His gaydar had malfunctioned, and he’d misjudged the situation.
“Ugh…” Wei Lai closed his eyes, feeling miserable. “The entertainment industry is full of beautiful people, yet I can’t find love or even a decent 1. Why is it so hard?”
Chu Yin tilted his head, his dark eyes wide. “Are you going to sleep?”
Wei Lai: “What else? Do you wanna top me?”
Chu Yin thought about Wei Lai’s reputation in the industry and wondered if he had any STDs. Disgusted, he said, “No way. You better not touch me while you sleep.”
Wei Lai seemed to pick up on Chu Yin’s unspoken thoughts and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Then go book another room.”
Chu Yin: “I paid for this one.”
“Fine, I’ll reimburse you. Happy?”
For some reason, Chu Yin dug in his heels. He sprawled stiffly on the bed, pinky raised as he cursed at Wei Lai. “You think I’m short on cash? Why the hell should I be the one to leave? Goddammit, I’m sleeping here tonight!”
Wei Lai replied sweetly, “Sure, sis. Whatever makes you happy.”
When it came to sharp tongues, Chu Yin was no match for Wei Lai. After huffing and puffing for a while without coming up with a retort, he angrily yanked most of the blanket over himself and declared, “I’m tired. Once I sober up tomorrow, I’ll curse you out properly!”
Chu Yin bundled himself up in the blanket, tucked his feet in, and mentally drafted his scathing speech for the next morning. He fantasized about delivering a verbal smackdown to Madam3Madam here refers to a brothel’s ‘madam’ (a woman who manages prostitutes). Wei as soon as he woke up, but his brain betrayed him—before he could concoct a suitably devastating roast, he started snoring like a contented cat.
Wei Lai was equally exhausted. Alcohol numbed his limbs, and the more he drank, the heavier his heart grew. His consciousness sank into darkness, and in his dazed state, he seemed to return to his university days.
Wei Lai was a year above Yao Chaowu. The first time he saw him was at the school’s Mid-Autumn Festival performance. Yao Chaowu wore a white ancient-style costume and played “The Smiling, Proud Wanderer” on a bamboo flute. The melody was beautiful, but the performer was even more so—Wei Lai fell for him at first sight.
Later, Wei Lai became Yao Chaowu’s manager. Back then, he was still naïve—too afraid to dwell on being gay and too hopeless to imagine “bending” Yao Chaowu. He suppressed his feelings and even cowardly considered marrying a woman to avoid societal backlash.
Six months into managing Yao Chaowu, an incident occurred that gradually shaped Wei Lai into the wild, unrestrained person he was today.
An idol’s rise requires not just their own efforts but also someone to pave the way. Yao Chaowu lacked both ambition and backing. Though Wei Lai did his best, he was still green and couldn’t provide much. At the time, Yao Chaowu’s youthful arrogance rubbed a big shot the wrong way, and he was swiftly put in his place—his hard-earned momentum vanished overnight. Wei Lai swallowed his pride and went to apologize. The big shot gave him a look and hinted for him to visit his home.
Wei Lai thought the clichéd plot of a dog-blood novel had finally descended upon him. After much hesitation, he succumbed to his own foolishness and, hiding it from Yao Chaowu, tidied himself up and nervously rang the big shot’s doorbell.
The bell chimed several times before the big shot’s legal wife—a wealthy lady—opened the door.
What followed completely derailed from the dog-blood script in Wei Lai’s head, though in hindsight, it made perfect sense given societal norms and logical deduction:
Chengdu has no 1s.
The big shot was a native Chengdu man.
Therefore, the big shot was not a 1.
The big shot was a strict 0. No amount of kidney tonics could bridge the gap between him and the wealthy lady to reach that “He’s happy, I’m happy” ideal. The lady needed joy, the big shot needed joy—and both of them took a liking to Wei Lai.
Lu Xun once said, “Time is like water in a sponge—if you squeeze hard enough, some will always come out.” But he definitely wasn’t talking about Wei Lai’s sponge. By the end, Wei Lai had nothing left to squeeze out.
He barely made it a few steps outside before clinging to a lamppost and vomiting. He returned home with a high fever, and Yao Chaowu rushed him to the hospital, staying by his side to care for him. “How did you get so sick all of a sudden? Was the stress over my situation too much?”
Wei Lai remembered crying then—he rarely cried, but that day, his tear ducts erupted like fountains, as if determined to drain him of all fluids. Yao Chaowu was terrified. Besides weeping over the nightmare of that “happy couple,” Wei Lai also realized that any hope of love with Yao Chaowu was gone forever. His heart was filthy, his body was tainted—how could he ever deserve Yao Chaowu?
“…Don’t cry. Don’t worry, just rest. Your health comes first. Worst case, I’ll just switch careers!”
Back then, Yao Chaowu knew nothing. He patted Wei Lai’s hand and comforted him like this. Wei Lai sniffled, gazing into his eyes, and thought—
Forget it.
It was worth it.
Wei Lai’s dream didn’t last long before he woke up from the heat.
Chu Yin was a blanket-hogging demon. He’d kicked his own quilt to the floor and, feeling cold, shamelessly stole Wei Lai’s. When he couldn’t yank it free, he simply rolled onto Wei Lai, trapping him beneath his body. One of his male-model legs stretched across the bed, brazenly draped over Wei Lai’s waist.
Wei Lai shifted. “Chu Yin… move.”
Chu Yin: Snore.
Wei Lai tried pushing him off, but Chu Yin just whined and clung tighter, rubbing against him like a restless snake.
Wei Lai took a deep breath and sat up halfway. The ice towel on his forehead slipped off and landed on Chu Yin’s thigh.
Chu Yin kicked his leg and finally released Wei Lai, curling up in the stolen blanket with a sinuous wiggle.
You sleep just fine, you pig!
Furious, Wei Lai snorted out the cotton balls stuffed up his nose.
Clutching the ice towel, he decisively shoved it between Chu Yin’s thighs—cool as a man who never looks back at explosions4A direct play on the action movie trope where the unflinching, too-cool protagonist walks away from an explosion without turning around.—then threw on his suit jacket and slipped out without a sound.
The next day, Chu Yin woke in a panic, convinced he’d wet the bed. He reached under the covers and felt a pool of warm liquid, letting out a shriek.
After a long moment of contemplation, he realized what had happened. He wanted to curse Wei Lai out, but the bastard had bolted faster than a scam artist, screwing him over before leaving.
Chu Yin yanked off his damp underwear, flicked it to the ground with an orchid finger, and hissed, “Asshole! Just you wait!”
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