EIP 21

Zhou Jun’s gaze remained fixed on the man across the room. When he heard Miss Wen’s voice beside him, a flicker of irritation crossed his face. She had a point. What kind of place was this for someone like Yong Jin? It was inevitable that others would gather around him. Before he could finish the thought, he saw a woman approaching Yong Jin.

Tonight, Yong Jin had dressed differently. Not in his usual military uniform or neatly tailored suit, but in a slightly European-style shirt. His black trousers were tucked into polished leather boots, and the wide collar of his shirt exposed the line of his collarbones and part of his chest. He sat with a glass of wine in hand, sipping slowly. He paid no attention to anyone, not even glancing once in Zhou Jun’s direction.

The woman leaned close, whispering something into his ear. She had a sultry figure, the tops of her stockings visible beneath the hem of her tight skirt, ending in bright red heels. Whatever she said made Yong Jin smile. It was a subtle, elegant smile that startled Zhou Jun and left Miss Wen visibly impressed. Her tone softened with admiration and a touch of youthful envy. She turned to Zhou Jun.

“Yong Jin seems quite the charmer. I wonder which lucky woman will leave with him tonight.”

Zhou Jun’s expression darkened. His anger showed clearly now, his eyes fixed with intensity on Yong Jin. Miss Wen waved her fan, hiding the faint curve of a smile. She thought men were inherently possessive, especially when their women admired someone else. Zhou Jun’s anger, she believed, must have come from his affection for her. She enjoyed watching men become jealous because of her.

But when she mentioned who might get to leave with Yong Jin, Zhou Jun’s temper broke loose. His heart felt like it was on fire, the bitterness burning his throat. He had never known this feeling before. The delicate, flirtatious Zhou Jun had never failed with women. And yet here was a man he didn’t dare chase. The more he thought about it, the more unbearable it became. His feelings for that man were stacking up like bricks, forming a tower too high to ignore, pressing down until he could no longer look away. This man would stay with him for a lifetime, in every quiet moment, in every dream.

Miss Wen’s amusement had not yet faded when Yong Jin stood and extended a hand to the woman beside him. With one arm around her waist, he led her onto the dance floor. Miss Wen had never seen him dance before. In her circle, Yong Jin was often mentioned, always spoken of in hushed tones and shy smiles. But no one ever dared to voice their admiration openly.

She watched closely, inspecting every detail of the woman who had captured the attention of the famously distant general. Her lips pursed slightly.

“So that’s all it takes?” she thought. “She’s not that special.”

Before she could finish her thought, Zhou Jun grabbed her hand. His palm was burning hot. Miss Wen gasped lightly. She had no time to react before Zhou Jun pulled her onto the dance floor.

The music was slow and warm, the kind that made it easy to forget the world. They danced close together. Miss Wen closed her eyes, wanting to sink into Zhou Jun’s arms, but his attention was elsewhere. Through her soft curls, he was glaring across the room.

The woman in Yong Jin’s arms had arched her back. Her long legs curled around his waist. It wasn’t just dancing anymore. It was intimate, nearly obscene. Zhou Jun watched them grind against each other as if the dance floor had turned into a bed, their bodies tangled together in silent heat. The word “shameless” hovered on the edge of his tongue.

As he and Miss Wen drew closer, he saw the woman stretch on tiptoe and press a kiss to Yong Jin’s chin. She slipped something into his hand before walking away, swaying her hips as she left the floor. Yong Jin touched the mark she had left, and then, slowly, he looked up—his eyes meeting Zhou Jun’s.

Zhou Jun’s face faltered. He quickly masked his emotions.

When he looked again, he couldn’t see Yong Jin. When he finally found the person, he saw him walking toward the door. What did that note say? Was it a phone number or an address? Zhou Jun lost his composure and quickly followed in the same direction after bringing Miss Wen off the dance floor.

When he found him, Yong Jin was using the paper from the note to light a cigarette. His ringed hand shielded the flame from the wind, giving Zhou Jun only a side view. Surrounded by smoke, the profile of his face was perfectly framed, with those eyelashes, nose, and a bead of sweat that had appeared in Zhou Jun’s dreams many times before.

His steps slowed.

This man didn’t seem like he wanted to speak.

Then I’ll be the one to start, Zhou Jun thought.

“Why did you burn it?” he asked. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself with her.”

Yong Jin gave him a look, cold and unreadable. Zhou Jun’s question was naive, but it still deserved an answer.

As this thought flickered in Zhou Jun’s mind, he was startled. When did he start to feel this was so natural? He had previously feared this person, and now these small thoughts seemed spoiled and quite unlikable. Zhou Jun pressed his lips together tightly, leaving both of them in a moment of standoff that added a layer of estrangement.

The truth was, they barely knew each other. One date. A few encounters. Normally, he wouldn’t have invested this much effort unless the woman was truly special. And yet here he was, angry and restless.

He forced a smile.

“I guess I said too much. My date is still inside. I should get back. See you next time.”

He turned to leave, uncertain whether there would ever be a next time.

However, Yong Jin’s steady voice came from behind. “Stop.” His command held no excessive tone, not particularly loud, but it carried weight.

Then came the question.

“Do you remember, Mr. Zhou?”

Zhou Jun turned slowly.

“I had a dream,” he said.

Yong Jin raised an eyebrow. He looked amused.

Zhou Jun walked back toward him.

“In the dream, you were sweating. The sweat would fall onto my face. It was hot. Your whole body was pressing down on me.”

He was standing only a step away now. He could see the change in Yong Jin’s eyes. The pupils seemed darker, deeper, swirling like black ink.

His finger traced the ring on Yong Jin’s finger, then encircled it, exploring the roughness of the knuckle with the pad of his finger. His voice came out as a soft murmur, “In the dream, I’m always in pain, as if someone is gradually opening up my body. That pain leaves me drenched in sweat every time I wake up.”

His words brought his breath almost entirely against Yong Jin’s lips, yet he didn’t kiss him. Zhou Jun appeared entranced by a nightmare, unable to distinguish between reality and dream, perhaps even oblivious to it himself. Before getting out of the car, he had shared a joint with Miss Wen, and that high kept him feeling light and euphoric.

Now, standing before Yong Jin, that sensation surged up from deep inside him. If he had been completely sober, perhaps he would not have followed through with this moment, nor said such blurred and ambiguous things. Yet who could say for certain? He was so close now, his lips just a breath away from Yong Jin’s. These were the same lips that had brushed against his face, his neck, and his chest, again and again in his dreams.

He lingered there, caught between desire and hesitation, but before he could close the distance, Yong Jin reached out and held his face.

The touch stopped him. It was steady, not forceful, yet Zhou Jun could see the look in Yong Jin’s eyes. It held no warmth. It was subtle, but unmistakable. A glimmer of disgust, quiet and sharp, like a current of meltwater running through him, leaving his chest hollow and cold.

Then he heard Yong Jin’s voice.

“Did you smoke weed?”