EIP 62

Mr. Chen, eager to enjoy himself with Zhou Jun, was certain the Second Young Master would not turn him down. Refusing, after all, might come across as disrespectful. But to his surprise, Zhou Jun did not take the bait. He kept his eyes on the girl’s retreating figure, then quietly settled onto the other side of the louhan bed. Reaching into his collar, he pulled out a handkerchief and covered his mouth and nose. With half his face hidden, his light-colored eyes revealed only helplessness as he said, “Mr. Chen, you don’t understand. I can’t use these things.”

Mr. Chen was visibly displeased. Refusing it felt no different from turning down a drink at a banquet. He waved his hand dismissively and urged Zhou Jun to at least give it a try, saying it was truly relaxing. Just listen to the name, and anyone could tell it was good stuff. Zhou Jun shook his head and replied gently, “It’s not that I don’t want to. I really can’t.” He went on to explain that he had only recently begun appearing in public to manage the family’s business. Before this, he said, it wasn’t a matter of willingness, he simply hadn’t been able to leave the house at all.

Mr. Chen leaned forward, his body halfway out of his seat, and lowered his voice to Zhou Jun’s ear. He asked what he meant, clearly hoping to uncover some hidden family secret. But Zhou Jun’s answer was far more mundane. Just like his older brother, he had poor health. He suffered from asthma, which meant he could not stay in smoky places for long. Smoking opium would seriously harm him.

Upon hearing this, Mr. Chen naturally did not press further. He was not about to push Zhou Jun into doing something that might cost him his life.

Zhou Jun’s gaze drifted toward the door, then turned back to Mr. Chen. He said that although he could not indulge in this paradise of pleasure, there might be another kind of paradise he was willing to explore.

In business, it was important to let others see your desires, even if they were shallow. No one was flawless. Zhou Jun, with his reputation for being a notorious flirt, knew that allowing a bit of indulgence would help Mr. Chen trust him more. Sure enough, with just that subtle hint, Mr. Chen burst into laughter and cast a knowing look at the opium-wielding girl who had just entered, her eyes flicking between Zhou Jun and him.

Once Mr. Chen relaxed, Zhou Jun quickly covered his mouth and nose and left the room. Mr. Chen did not stop him, probably thinking he had gone off to handle something important. Zhou Jun walked faster, almost as if escaping. His face was pale with suppressed anger as he made his way toward the stage area. He had already sent a message to Xiao Fu, telling him he would wait in a private box on the second floor.

Zhou Jun handed some money to a staff member, who led him upstairs. The performance on stage was already halfway through, and the room was packed. The air felt heavy, and Zhou Jun took off his jacket and loosened his collar. The lingering scent from earlier clung to him so strongly that even he found it nauseating. He hurriedly wiped his forehead with a handkerchief as he looked around the theater, searching for Mu Liqing.

A few people emerged from the corridor, but Zhou Jun paid them no mind. His eyes stayed fixed on the stage. It was not until the staff member gently pulled him aside that he turned away and lowered his head to step to the side. The footsteps approaching were steady, and the sound of military boots was unmistakable, distinctly different from the others. A strange thought surfaced in Zhou Jun’s mind. He kept his head down and did not look up until the owner of the boots stopped in front of him.

Zhou Jun instinctively took a step back, but the corridor was too narrow. As he moved, his back pressed against the wooden wall. The coldness seeped through his damp shirt, sending a chill through him. He closed his eyes for a moment and kept his gaze on the floor, staring at the boots in front of him.

The corridor seemed to shrink, the air growing tighter. Zhou Jun felt as though he were about to press right into the person in front of him. The smell that crept in was all too familiar. It was Yong Jin. Zhou Jun let out a long sigh and slowly raised his face to meet his gaze. The look in Yong Jin’s eyes was sharp, filled with scrutiny and disbelief.

Yong Jin stared at him for a few seconds, then turned his face away and walked on in silence.

The only thing on Yong Jin’s mind was the scent of opium on Zhou Jun. It was not just marijuana after all. Zhou Jun was using opium now too. It made sense, given the Zhou family’s line of work. Still, for reasons he could not fully explain, Yong Jin had always believed Zhou Jun would stay clean. He no longer had any right to interfere, but even in the midst of his own self-mockery, he still could not accept it.

Yong Jin had only walked a few steps before stopping and turning back. Sweat was already forming on his brow. Zhou Jun had met his eyes briefly, then quickly lowered his head. His posture was tense, and he turned his face away, as if wanting to leave. Yong Jin’s gaze lingered on the curve of his neck, faintly visible beneath the loosened collar. His hand still remembered the feel of that skin, and the memory stirred something deep within him

He was not thinking clearly. He should not have turned back to find Zhou Jun. But all he could think about was grabbing him by the neck and demanding an answer. Or maybe it was not about questioning anymore. Maybe he just wanted to touch him, kiss him, taste him.

The urge was so strong that before he realized it, his hand had already reached out. Yong Jin looked at it, a flicker of regret crossing his eyes. The person beside him seemed to notice and quietly suggested he head downstairs. Yong Jin gave a slight nod, but his hand remained where it was. Even as his mind told him to step back and let go, he simply could not do it.

He knew very well that he was no longer at an age where he could act on impulse. His father’s warnings from before still echoed in his ears. Then came the military orders. The situation had grown dire, and he was about to be sent to the front lines. No one could say what would happen, and he could not even be sure he would make it back alive.

So why should he hold onto Zhou Jun so tightly, like chasing after a light that was about to fade? Should he leave behind a promise and expect Zhou Jun to wait for him? Would the man even wait? He could not bring himself to believe it.

So he made up his mind to sever ties before leaving. As he had expected, Zhou Jun returned to his usual self quickly. After that night of breakdown, he had already composed himself again. He was still charming, still carefree, still able to live his life to the fullest and meet women for rendezvous. But Yong Jin felt something was slowly being consumed, a pain that grew more unbearable over time.

After receiving the ring that had been discarded once more, Yong Jin stayed up the entire night dealing with official matters in his study. When morning arrived and the sky grew bright, he still felt no urge to sleep. The only sound in the room was the soft music from the gramophone. It was a piece he had once heard over the phone. He could still vaguely remember that person’s piano playing, along with the faint sound of humming.

Zhou Jun tried to pull away, but the grip on his arm was too strong. The attendant standing nearby asked softly whether he should bring tea and snacks. Zhou Jun forced a smile and declined. Then he turned and said, “Major Yong, could you please loosen your grip?” Yong Jin furrowed his brows. His face looked tense, his lips tightly pressed together as though holding back words.

Yong Jin slowly let go. Zhou Jun glanced at the faint marks on his arm. Without meeting his eyes, Yong Jin gave a quiet nod. “My apologies,” he said, adjusting his hat. His eyes remained hidden beneath the brim.

Zhou Jun watched him turn to leave. The corner of Yong Jin’s coat lifted slightly in the breeze, and the scent that clung to him faded, almost imperceptibly. Zhou Jun had once known the body beneath that coat well, had touched every inch of it. He had believed that if they ever met again, he would be able to remain calm, treat it like any other meeting. And in a way, he did. He did not lose composure or embarrass himself. But when Yong Jin finally turned and disappeared down the corridor, Zhou Jun suddenly felt completely drained. He touched the place on his arm where he had been held and let out a long breath.