Chapter 7 – Gay Mahjong

The little sister covered his mouth and squealed, “You little slut! You actually hooked up with my male god behind my back? Do you have Chu Yin’s WeChat? What kind of stuff does he post on his Moments?”

Wei Lai: “I don’t have his WeChat.”

The little sister: “Then why did you say that?! You tricked me!”

Wei Lai flashed his professional pimping smile, honed over a hundred years of experience, and said, “You’ll get it. WeChat will come, and so will mahjong.”

The little sister playfully punched Wei Lai and cooed, “I’ll be waiting for you, then!”

And so he waited—for several months. The next time Wei Lai saw Chu Yin was at a fashion show in Paris. Chu Yin stood on a grand red carpet, bathed in dazzling lights, the flashes of cameras clicking incessantly around him. Like a proud, majestic cat, he basked in the adoration of the crowd with effortless grace.

Wei Lai sat beside his own artist when, in the dim lighting, someone suddenly took the seat next to him. A deep voice murmured in his ear, “Wei Lai.”

Wei Lai turned his head and found himself face-to-face with Chu Yin’s profile. “Huh???”

Chu Yin kept his eyes fixed on the runway. “I just remembered—you never brought me my pants that day. Madam Wei, you’re such a scammer.”

Wei Lai: “…My bad. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t find your WeChat no matter how hard I tried. Big shot, you never gave me the chance to say sorry.”

Chu Yin huffed. “Add me now. And apologize.”

Madam Wei smirked victoriously as he successfully added Chu Yin on WeChat.

Wei Lai’s profile picture was his professional work headshot. Chu Yin frowned in disdain. “Your profile pic is ugly.”

Chu Yin’s avatar, on the other hand, was a chrysanthemum in full bloom. Wei Lai was speechless—what was so great about this old-man, zen-like flower aesthetic anyway?

Afraid Chu Yin might throw a public tantrum, Wei Lai swallowed his snark and changed the subject. “Check out this outfit—it’s pretty eye-catching.”

Chu Yin hummed. “If I wore it, it’d be even more eye-catching. You? Nah, your vibe isn’t hot enough.”

Wei Lai: “So, did you come over just to roast me?”

Chu Yin shook his head. “No. I… can you take me back to the hotel later? I checked—we’re staying at the same one.”

Over the past three months, Chu Yin had repeatedly tried—and failed—to terminate his contract with Chen Meixian. Their relationship had deteriorated to the point of open hostility. Chen Meixian controlled every aspect of Chu Yin’s life, and his resistance had left him isolated. What awaited him now was likely a brutal crackdown from the company.

Wei Lai, completely oblivious to this, grew wary. “…Are you plotting something? Just so we’re clear—hookups are fine, but I don’t top.”

Chu Yin was appalled. “Why is your brain always in the gutter?!”

Wei Lai, having spent the last few months in a mahjong-induced trance, couldn’t help but whisper conspiratorially, “Then… do you wanna fuck with mahjong?”

Chu Yin: “…Young guys like me usually choose video games.”

“Are you scared of losing?!”

Chu Yin: “…I don’t know how to play.”

Madam Wei launched into a passionate sales pitch to lure Chu Yin into the glorious pit of national heritage. “I’ll teach you! Mahjong is pure bliss—if you’re not having fun, I’ll top for you!”

Chu Yin: “!”