SDT 4

Chapter 4: Wanting Me to Kiss You Again

The suffering brought by illness came in waves, so his moods fluctuated too. But ever since becoming a blackmailer, Yu Xiaowen seemed to be in a pretty good headspace, regardless of whether his body was aching or not.

Dropping one’s moral really did feel liberating.

Today was a rare day off-task in the office, basking in AC. He munched an apple while harassing his victim.

艹: What are you up to?

Ten-odd minutes later, the reply: Working.

艹: Busy?

The victim was perfunctory: Yeah.

艹: You do medical research. So, do surgery on people? Or just lab experiments with beakers all day?

Victim still half-assed: Occasionally.

艹 wouldn’t let up: Occasionally what? Occasionally do surgery? Or occasionally stare at beakers? Or occasionally engage in medical research? Your day job wouldn’t happen to be practicing the feasibility of human language degradation?

His persistence forced the victim’s curtness to stretch a bit: Research means doing it all. Including surgery, experiments, data analysis. Depends on the team’s needs.

Yu Xiaowen didn’t get it, he just wanted to mess with the victim: I miss you.

艹: Think about you every day, can’t focus on work.

艹: [Little Pig Head emoji]

The victim finally hit his limit and stopped replying.

But that night, right on cue, a little after eleven, the text came: Goodnight. Sweetheart.

….

A few days later, a post-rain evening. The air had cooled a touch.

But Lu Kongyun hadn’t even noticed the rain. He’d been buried in reports till now, no peeks out the window, no checks on his phone.

When the light dimmed enough that he needed a lamp, he grabbed his phone on impulse and glanced. There was the order from his blackmailer.

艹: Meet at 6:30pm, Old Liyu Seafood Stall in District S.

Since he hadn’t replied right away, 艹 followed up with a photo of the stall’s facade and a location pin.

Lu Kongyun eyed the wall clock, nearly six. Getting to District S meant crossing two major zones from here. He looked at the half-done lab report, texted back: Just saw. Won’t make it in time. Can we push it?

艹 answered instantly: Your place to the stall, half hour drive tops.

艹: Add a few mins for walking and parking.

艹: [Image] Countdown: 40 minutes.

Lu Kongyun: .

Lu Kongyun: Is your timer’s off? Next endpoint should be around 10:30pm tonight.

艹: Dummy. I set the time, I can change it whenever.

…Fuck!

The curse didn’t make it out loud, but it echoed in Lu Kongyun’s head anyway. Bad company corrupts good character.

Lu Kongyun’s face darkened as he tapped his fingertips on the desk. Then he texted back.

Lu Kongyun: Traffic jam now.

Lu Kongyun: Can’t make it.

艹: Heh. Then enjoy tomorrow’s headlines.

Lu Kongyun was pissed, ignored that one. But he still saved the report with a scowl, logged out, shut down. Stood, killed the lights, left, locked up. He took the elevator.

He got in the car. Navigation on. Floored it.

He had to obey this blackmailer’s ridiculous threats. For one, the guy’s head wasn’t wired right, couldn’t parse or predict him normally. More crucially, Lu Kongyun had this gut feeling: the dude genuinely didn’t give a damn about living or dying. It felt weirdly real, leaving Lu Kongyun unwilling to gamble when deciding.

The stall sat in Manjing’s midtown old district, zoning a mess, diners parking haphazardly curbside. The seafood spot was jammed; he circled far out before snagging a space. Then he hoofed it back, scanning the rowdy entrance for the blackmailer.

Every table was packed, everyone loud and merry. So the small corner table stood out, the blackmailer’s pale, lonely face a beacon. Lu Kongyun took two steps that way; the guy looked up right then, spotting him, he seemed surprised, brightening his complexion a bit.

But he quickly came back to himself, and crooked a finger at Lu Kongyun.

Once seated, the blackmailer eyed his flushed face.

“You ran here that fast.” Then, with a grin, he slid a napkin over.

“Countdown.” Lu Kongyun said flatly.

So the blackmailer dropped the napkin, pulled his phone, fiddled, showed Lu Kongyun.

“Relax, as long as you’re good, I won’t make trouble.”

“Too noisy here.” Lu Kongyun said. “And exhaust fumes.”

“Quit your bitching, young master.” The blackmailer replied. “You eat what I eat.”

He snatched the plastic menu, flagged the waiter. Ordered standard seafood and BBQ, then dug a mini bottle of red wine from his pocket.

…BBQ with red wine.

At a freshwater fish seafood joint, no less.

The blackmailer twisted open the bottle: “Have some wine.”

Lu Kongyun shook his head firmly: “I don’t drink.”

Blackmailer: “Tomorrow’s Saturday, alcohol won’t hurt.”

“I hate the taste. I don’t drink on or off the clock.” Lu Kongyun said. He emphasized: “Never.”

The blackmailer propped his chin, eyeing him.

“Never.” The blackmailer echoed the word, eyes turning suggestive.

“Then I definitely want your first time.”

One hand on his chin, the other poured half a glass, and held it to Lu Kongyun’s lips.

Lu Kongyun’s gaze dropped to the red liquid inches from his mouth, then to the blackmailer. The guy commanded with ill intent: “Drink up.”

His voice still lazy and silky, but his eyes gleamed with the certainty of Lu Kongyun’s inability to refuse, victory.

…

It’d been ages since he’d felt like this. Maybe the family status, maybe the class edge, maybe just too much research numbing him out. Anyway, ages since this feeling, controlling his emotions took real effort.

“Why me?” He asked the question again.

The blackmailer chuckled, leaning closer, voice low: “Drink, and I’ll tell you why.”

So Lu Kongyun reached for the glass. But the blackmailer held it tight: “Like this.”

“……”

He stared a beat, huffed coldly. In the end, he leaned forward, lips parting obediently to the rim.

The blackmailer’s hand stilled, he glanced around, hunched a bit, then tilted the glass, letting the dark red liquid creep up the edge, slowly wetting Lu Kongyun’s lips.

Lu Kongyun hated alcohol, but it was just wine. He opened wider; the bitter, heady tang prickled across his tongue. He swallowed instinctively.

The blackmailer’s hand froze, no bitterness followed.

Eager to finish, Lu Kongyun tilted his chin up, sucking at the glass proactively. But the other didn’t get it, no pour. He looked up.

Their eyes met.

The glass wobbled; the blackmailer pulled it away. He grabbed a crab instead, savagely twisting off one side’s four legs.

“You, you drink slow.” He wrenched off the other four. “Finish it all, no wasting.”

“Finish it all.” Lu Kongyun grabbed a napkin, wiped his lips.

Lu Kongyun figured getting him to drink couldn’t be just about the drink. The guy’s aim was to make him miserable. Last time it was making him watch porn and a kiss.

Who knew this round.

Public drunken humiliation?

“I drank it, answer my question.” He said.

“What question… Oh. Why you, not your dad.” The blackmailer popped a crab leg, mouth glossed with grease, less pallid now, adding a touch of life to the ashen face.

“’Because I like you.” He murmured carelessly.

“…Enough.” Lu Kongyun exhaled. “Tell me, what’s our grudge?”

“Grudge?” The blackmailer crunched the leg shell. “Seeing you turns every day into Valentine’s.”

“Valentine’s.” The word pinged Lu Kongyun’s radar. He recalled the file.

“Valentine’s is your birthday.” He mused. “Your birthday. Related? Our grudge tied to your background?”

The blackmailer blanked, then laughed like an idiot. So Lu Kongyun scowled back like he was watching one.

The blackmailer reined in the laughter after ages. But his nose and eyes stayed red-tinged: “Dug that deep on me? Nice. Remember my birthday from now on, makes me happy.”

…

An hour later, Lu Kongyun was slumped over the table.

He felt the blackmailer tug his collar: “Hey, are you okay? Just this little bottle. Can’t even marinate one shrimp. You’re not even as good as a shrimp, fuck.”

“Hey, hey! Get up, it’s raining again!” The tugging intensified.

“Fuck.” The blackmailer cursed again.

Then Lu Kongyun indeed felt cool droplets speckling his cheek. He roused a bit, eyes cracking open. Propped on the table, he straightened, but the seat across was empty, no blackmailer.

Lu Kongyun pieced the situation.

…Bastard bailed on purpose, baiting drunk-him to ditch without paying, for the humiliation.

He fumbled his phone, wobbly-scanned the table QR and paid.

The boss and staff were rigging umbrellas and tarps over the big, crowded tables against the rain; the edge small ones got ignored. Lu Kongyun turned, there was the blackmailer, dashing back with a cheap transparent street umbrella. Soon, he stood before Lu Kongyun, raindrops on his face swapped for the crisp patter on the canopy.

“Where’s your car?” The blackmailer panted.

“…..”

Lu Kongyun pointed down the smoke-and-neon-strewn street ahead.

The blackmailer scanned the table QR too, and said nothing. He pulled Lu Kongyun’s arm: “Come on.”

Lu Kongyun hated being manhandled. As long as his legs worked, no need for support. He tried walking solo, but his body still swayed; the blackmailer steadied him then.

“I can walk myself.” He shoved the guy off.

So the blackmailer backed off, let him solo.

Lu Kongyun fixed on the rain-slicked path ahead, like it’d been edited with time-shard effects, trudging toward his car. The season’s rains hit fast. Lu Kongyun heard the umbrella’s patter swell, and the blackmailer’s footsteps shadowing him.

Finally there. He unlocked the door and slid into the back seat. He opened his phone for a designated driver. Then the driver’s door cracked, the blackmailer hopped in: “Your place? I’ll drive.”

Lu Kongyun paused seconds, then answered.

“Orange Garden. Garage A208.”

Alcohol did its thing; he conked out en route. Sometime later, a speed bump jolted him awake. Eyes open, he blanked out a moment, scoping the scene till recognition trickled back. The car idled in his familiar underground garage.

He unbuckled to exit. But the blackmailer hopped out the front, circled to the back door, slid in beside him.

Lu Kongyun’s hand froze mid-motion, eyed the guy. Hair plastered wet to his face, making him paler, but a smile curled his lips.

“Sleep well, young master?”

“You…” he bathed again? Always showers before seeing me.

He didn’t say it. Lu Kongyun’s tongue felt thick, and his brain sluggish. The back half seemed a knee-jerk non-sequitur, not rational output.

This foggy state felt alien, he was wary; he straightened, and rubbed his eyes. They burned hotter than usual, swollen.

He figured he’d overdone the drinking.

He undid his collar button, tugged it down.

“Drank too much.”

The blackmailer draped an arm over the seatback, knuckles to lips, still smiling at him.

“Mm.”

Lu Kongyun hated that look. Weird, sticky, like holding a tacky scandal meant owning him forever.

Wanting me to kiss you again?

He didn’t say it. It wasn’t rational output.

But from last time’s playbook, he figured it was right.