Chapter 52 – Mind Making it Public?

Bian Ji felt that rather than sightseeing like collecting stamps at various tourist spots, it was better to spend more time alone with Yan Ankuo. So after eating dinner early, he prepared to return to the hotel.

The hotel was near Senso-ji Temple, and when they returned, there weren’t many people in the elevator. Returning early didn’t mean they had any serious business to attend to; after exercising, they would simply embrace each other, nestle under the covers, and chat idly.

Bian Ji asked about the case Yan Ankuo was currently handling: “The person you’re representing now, is he from the Wenshun Group?”

Yan Ankuo was surprised. “How did you know?”

“I saw it today,” Bian Ji explained. “Our company also cooperates with Wenshun, maybe the big data noticed that and recommended their news to me. Now, online, everyone is saying…”

When he got to this point, Bian Ji suddenly stopped. Yan Ankuo pressed him, “Saying what?”

“They say that man wants to take advantage of the situation.” Actually, the comments online were even harsher, but Bian Ji chose the gentlest term.

Yan Ankuo laughed.

Bian Ji said seriously, “Are you representing that man, or someone else?”

“The details of the case, I can’t talk about too much.” Yan Ankuo didn’t want to discuss this with him. “Sorry.”

Bian Ji understood. “Okay then, I was just asking, worried that you’d get criticized.”

Yan Ankuo waved his hand. “Internet, public opinion, the spiral of silence, it’s inherently polarized, moderate voices are often drowned out. Just don’t look, don’t care.”

Bian Ji nestled in Yan Ankuo’s arm and shook his head. “No, that won’t do. I can’t help but look at the news about you.”

“Is that so?” Yan Ankuo suddenly turned over, looked down at him, and said, “So concerned about me.”

“Mm-hmm.” Bian Ji admitted frankly, “Worried about you.”

Yan Ankuo kissed his forehead, telling him there was nothing to worry about, then took out the board game provided by the hotel — a Monopoly game box — from the bedside table, and asked, “It’s still early, how about playing a game before sleeping?”

“Do you not need to work anymore?”

“Just finished a meeting, I’ll review the materials on the plane tomorrow.”

Bian Ji crossed his legs, sat up straight on the pillow, and said, “Okay, then I’ll go get the dice.”

A classic game like Monopoly, which was a bit old-fashioned, was still a bit boring for two people. Because of the lack of players, they had to count their own game money and remember their routes; after throwing the dice several times, they hadn’t advanced very far.

Impatient, Yan Ankuo threw the game piece aside, propped his hands on either side of Bian Ji, and asked, “Want to switch to another way of playing?”

Bian Ji agreed. “Sure, how do you want to play?”

Yan Ankuo paused for a moment, and Bian Ji seemed to guess what he was thinking from his slightly aggressive and sly eyes.

“It’s still throwing the dice,” Yan Ankuo put the dice on the board and looked at Bian Ji, saying, “But whatever step we roll, we do that step.”

Bian Ji’s mind went blank for a moment, and he didn’t have time to ask what kind of gameplay it was before agreeing.

The first throw was Bian Ji’s turn, rolling a “three,” so the blue character came to the corner of the board, corresponding to the color blue.

Bian Ji’s face flushed slightly, pointing to the blue carpet and asking, “Does this mean… going there?”

“Mm-hmm.” Yan Ankuo replied softly in his ear.

Bian Ji was carried by Yan Ankuo and placed on the blue carpet, and they rolled again.

This time, the blue character stepped on a yellow square and stopped, and inside the square was a picture of a straw rope.

Bian Ji knelt on the carpet and asked quietly, “What now? Are we supposed to get the rope?”

Yan Ankuo was taken aback, then said calmly, “There’s no rope here.”

Bian Ji, like a prisoner at the mercy of others, yet like an innocent child, pointed innocently at the closet and said, “The uniform has a belt, that counts too, right?”

Yan Ankuo gritted his teeth and muttered, “You really are…” His eyes darkened as he swallowed Bian Ji’s subsequent objections whole.

Thankfully, the flight schedule for the next day was in the afternoon, otherwise Bian Ji would have found it hard to get up with full energy.

Not until late at night did Bian Ji have the chance to tidy himself up. As before, he brought a complete set of sleep supplies, from bath bags to sleeping bags, all included.

Seeing Bian Ji spread out the sleeping bag and pillow, Yan Ankuo said helplessly, “Every time, you turn your back on me right after.”

Hugging his sleeping bag, Bian Ji blinked slowly and argued, “I didn’t.”

Yan Ankuo smiled and asked, “Then shall we go wash up together later?”

“No, the bathroom isn’t suitable for two people at the same time.” Bian Ji refused with lingering fear.

Yan Ankuo was puzzled. “Why not?”

Bian Ji showed him the marks on his wrist and asked, “What do you think?”

Yan Ankuo fell silent, took a hot towel to apply to his wrist, and kissed his cheek.

It wasn’t clear where this kiss started, but in any case, Bian Ji was so exhausted that he finally passed out from sheer exhaustion.

The next day at noon, Bian Ji opened his eyes and saw Yan Ankuo sitting at the desk. He wanted to call out, but his throat was hoarse.

“Wake up?” Yan Ankuo closed his laptop and walked over to him. “Did you sleep well?”

“It was good, mainly because I was too tired yesterday.” Bian Ji yawned, pulled back the covers to get up and wash up, “How can you get up so early?”

Yan Ankuo said that his biological clock was like that, no matter how late he slept, he would open his eyes at seven-thirty on the dot, there was no way around it.

Bian Ji silently couldn’t understand, brushing his teeth while asking, “Ask the hotel what they’re serving later, I’m really hungry.”

Yan Ankuo called out loudly in response, “Already instructed them to send it over.”

After the hotel attendant knocked on the door to deliver the meal, the two of them, dressed neatly, sat at the coffee table and began replenishing the energy they had consumed the day before.

After peeling the shrimp shell and putting it into Yan Ankuo’s bowl, Bian Ji asked, “What time is your flight?”

“Later than yours.” Yan Ankuo said, “Unfortunately, your flight is already full, so I had to buy a flight half an hour later. But it’s also flying to Hongqiao, we can go to the airport together.”

“Okay.” Bian Ji saw Yan Ankuo’s phone vibrating constantly and nodded towards it. “Hey, seems like someone is looking for you.”

Yan Ankuo returned to the desk, glanced at the screen, frowned tightly, sighed, and showed the phone to Bian Ji.

Bian Ji curiously took it over and saw that the sender was Lin Yu.

After the last class reunion, Lin Yu proposed adding Yan Ankuo back on WeChat. Yan Ankuo thought that since they were in the same profession, there was no need to make things too ugly, so he agreed.

Half an hour ago, Lin Yu asked Yan Ankuo if he was going to the law forum organized by their mentor.

Yan Ankuo replied with a “No,” and the other party asked if he had time to meet up, to which Yan Ankuo said, “There’s no need for that.”

Bian Ji read the new message and assumed that Yan Ankuo was busy eating and let him relay the message, so he repeated, “Lin Yu sent you another message, asking if you’re dating someone.”

“…” Yan Ankuo said with a laugh, “I can read.”

Bian Ji was confused for a moment, not understanding what he meant. “Oh.”

Yan Ankuo thought to himself that his boyfriend could be adorably slow at times, helplessly looked back at the chat window, pondered for a long time, and suddenly placed his palm on top of Bian Ji’s, saying, “We haven’t taken a photo together yet.”

Bian Ji froze, tilted his head and “Hmm”ed.

“Let’s take one.” Yan Ankuo raised his phone.

Bian Ji pointed to the messy table full of dishes and asked curiously, “Now?”

Yan Ankuo nodded. “Yes.”

Bian Ji never refused Yan Ankuo, so Yan Ankuo picked up his phone, facing the blooming flowers outside the window, and took a photo with Bian Ji.

Yan Ankuo’s photography skills were truly terrible; the window was crooked, the flowers were overexposed, only the portraits held up against the death angle.

Bian Ji looked at the photo, reluctant to crush his boyfriend’s confidence, held back a stomach full of words, and forced a smile of encouragement.

“Do you mind if I post it on my Moments?” Yan Ankuo asked.

At first, Bian Ji didn’t react, thinking he was asking if he minded being photographed like that. He shook his head and said, “Don’t mind,” and only realized what he meant after coming to his senses, so he added, “Do you want to make our relationship public?”

“Yes.” Yan Ankuo asked again, “Do you mind?”

“I don’t mind, but… won’t your boss and clients see it?”

Bian Ji’s Moments had at least a thousand people, besides friends from different places he met during flights, there were also colleagues from the airline and acquaintances. Therefore, Bian Ji’s Moments adhered to the social rules of adulthood — responding enthusiastically but not revealing too much personal information. Aside from regularly posting some landscape pictures and maintaining necessary interactions, there wouldn’t be any other content.

Yan Ankuo didn’t seem to care about these things, saying nonchalantly, “If they see it, they see it, it doesn’t matter. What matters is, do you want to make it public?”

This circle wasn’t exactly mainstream, many same-sex couples wouldn’t choose to be too high-profile. Yan Ankuo asked this question to test Bian Ji’s views on relationships.

Bian Ji indeed didn’t have the habit of announcing his relationships to the world, and he felt that the two of them had been together for too short a time, not yet stable enough to make such a public announcement.

However, Bian Ji wasn’t a person who deliberated too much, and he was terrifyingly accommodating with issues that didn’t involve his bottom line. Since Yan Ankuo wanted to post it, he didn’t say anything more and agreed.

Yan Ankuo selected the photo, added the location, posted it on his Moments, and captioned it with a single flower.

His friends list wasn’t as mixed as Bian Ji’s, but he didn’t post much content either. A bolt from the blue, it soon sparked many new replies.

Wen Hongyu: [Eh? Do I understand what you mean? Brother, when did you turn gay??] Wen Hongyu: [But… your partner is really handsome, holy shit!] Nie Hang: [Tsk, show off all you want/lemon] Qiao Yuan: [Happy, wish you 99] Yan Fanxuan: [Brother?? You and Brother Bian?! What’s going on? Did I miss something??] Yan Ankuo’s already busy WeChat vibrated even more relentlessly throughout the night. Bian Ji watched Yan Ankuo busily replying to everyone, and said helplessly, “Was that too hasty?”

“Not hasty, it had to be said sooner or later.” Yan Ankuo answered everyone’s questions one by one, and relayed to Bian Ji, “Wen Hongyu just asked me when we can have a meal together with classmates, they all want to meet you.”

Bian Ji searched his memory for this name and recalled that he was the lawyer he met at school. “Teacher Wen? Didn’t I already meet him?”

“There are still many friends you haven’t met.” Yan Ankuo drew Bian Ji into his arms, half coaxing and half pleading, “When we go back to Shanghai, will you accompany me to see them?”

Bian Ji hesitated. “Is that appropriate?”

“What’s inappropriate about it?” Yan Ankuo leaned down, lowered his head, and rubbed his head against Bian Ji’s chin. “You’re the best.”

Bian Ji couldn’t resist his tone, and quickly gave in. “Alright, alright.”

Yan Ankuo kissed him on the forehead, as a thank you.

The two began to kiss passionately, their entwined shadows undulating on the wall.

The phone vibrated helplessly on the bedside table; it was a WeChat message from Lin Yu, saying: [Sorry, I just saw your Moments, congratulations then.]