EIP 7

He had assumed that whatever Yong Jin wanted to put on him in the spur of the moment would be for his hand, but to his surprise, it was something tied around his ankle. A russet-colored braided cord, with a cool, jade-green bead dangling from it. As it swayed against his ankle, he glanced at the design and, for a brief moment, it felt like a large snake had shrunk into a smaller one, winding its way around his leg.

It was clearly the same style as a whip, though meant for a different purpose. Once his wooden sandal was slipped back onto his foot, Zhou Jun wisely withdrew his leg from Yong Jin’s lap. Yong Jin liked cleanliness, and Zhou Jun didn’t want the dirt from the sandal to smudge his suit pants, lest he end up with his face pinched again. After all, this man had a temper. Best not to provoke him.

Zhou Jun shifted back into his seat, and the two of them suddenly became more proper, a noticeable distance forming between them. It was hard to tell that just moments ago, one had been sitting on the other, their gazes tangled together like hooks. Even Deputy Chen, who was driving up front, noticed through the rearview mirror how heated the atmosphere in the car had been.

The vehicle swayed and finally stopped at the entrance of the pear garden. The sky hadn’t cleared yet, and Deputy Chen opened an umbrella as he approached Yong Jin. Zhou Jun had intended to grab one for himself, but to his surprise, Yong Jin held onto the umbrella and waved him over instead. Zhou Jun hesitated, but Yong Jin called out, “Mr. Zhou, come here.”

With no other choice, Zhou Jun had to take refuge under Yong Jin’s umbrella, which brought along a fair bit of dampness from the rain. Yong Jin didn’t make any suggestive moves toward him. Maintaining a reasonable distance, he merely tilted the umbrella slightly in Zhou Jun’s direction.

Surprisingly, there weren’t many people at the theater. They entered the official box, and the show hadn’t started yet. Just as Zhou Jun settled into his seat, a server approached, whispering to Deputy Chen.

Deputy Chen promptly relayed the information, and Yong Jin, looking composed, simply nodded before rising to step out of the official box. Zhou Jun remained in his seat, sipping tea while a spread of fruits covered the table. The teacups, made of blue-and-white porcelain, were small and delicate in his hands. He had always loved such beautiful things. After placing the cup down, he felt a slight discomfort in his lower abdomen from drinking too much tea.

He got up to leave the private room but was stopped by Deputy Chen. Zhou Jun explained his urgent need to go, but Deputy Chen summoned a waiter and instructed him to lead the way. Zhou Jun felt displeased but didn’t show it on his face. He insisted that the waiter didn’t need to follow him. He was a guest, not a prisoner.

Who would have thought that on his way back from the restroom, he would get lost? It felt almost fated when he ended up standing in front of the room of Mu Liqing, a renowned performer in the pear garden. Known for his exceptional talent and stunning beauty, Mu Liqing had captivated countless admirers. His fame had even reached the newspapers, and Zhou Jun, well aware of such a prominent figure, understood that a celebrated performer often had powerful patrons behind him.
Zhou Jun did not expect that one of the patrons was actually Yong Jin.

The intricately carved wooden window was beautifully decorated. Perhaps due to his fame and favorable treatment, the rest area was also elegant. Beside the room, a pear blossom tree was planted, its white petals scattered all over the ground. Inside the window, Su San, who sang “Yutang Chun,” had not yet put on her makeup. Her long hair flowed over her chest like silk.

Mu Liqing held a folding fan, half covering his face. He wore a red robe with the sleeves slightly rolled up, revealing soft, pale hands and slender fingers tinged with a rosy hue. He was singing a passage, his voice beautiful and alluring. Even from the hallway, Zhou Jun felt a tingling in his ears from the sweetness of that sound.

Wanting to watch the show, Zhou Jun confidently wiped the redwood handrail, lifted his robe, and sat down. However, his wooden clogs slipped off and clattered to the floor like a drumbeat for Su San, startling those inside and breaking their intimate gazes.

Feeling embarrassed, Zhou Jun lifted the hem of his robe and held it up as he glanced into the room. He noticed the young General Yong standing by the window, looking directly at him.

He wondered whether to run away or not. But he hadn’t done anything wrong. Why should he run? So, from behind the pear blossoms, he smiled at the couple and dropped down on one leg to look for his shoe. He stepped on the fallen pear blossoms and planned to leave. The show was over, and it was time to go. Yong Jin came to see Mu Liqing, so what was the point of bringing him along?

After wandering around, Zhou Jun ended up back at the official box. Yong Jin was already sitting at the table, holding an open pocket watch that was ticking away. Next to him were the peanut shells Zhou Jun had peeled, and beside that was a hairpin. For some reason, Zhou Jun’s steps came to a halt.

When the deputy officer saw him, he quickly stepped forward to invite him to take a seat. Zhou Jun walked at a leisurely pace, his steps dragging, as if he were reluctant to move forward for countless reasons. As he got closer, Yong Jin raised his hand, palm up, and took hold of Zhou Jun’s right hand.

His steps grew light again, maybe because he was being pulled along. His sandal tapped quickly against the floor, each step echoing like the thud of a show about to begin. He sat down, pressed closely against Yong Jin. Their sleeves brushed, shoulders leaned together. On stage, the drums and gongs grew louder, building to a peak as the official prepared to announce the start.

Zhou Jun originally sat up straight, but in this theater, the chairs offered no support, so he ended up leaning more and more. By the time Su San, dressed in a red outfit and adorned with sparkling jewelry, made her entrance, Zhou Jun was half leaning on the table, with his legs crossed and propped up on the table as he cracked seeds.

In this moment, he was nothing like the cold and elegant Mu Liqing. He cracked melon seeds with loud snaps, his gaze drifting now and then to Su San before returning to Yong Jin. It felt as if countless thoughts were turning over in his mind, yet none of them could be spoken aloud.

Perhaps it was his blunt stare that irritated the major, because suddenly he was grabbed by the chin and pulled away from the table into Yong Jin’s arms. On stage, Su San was singing her sorrowful tale, pouring out her grief. Zhou Jun still had a bit of seed skin clinging to his lower lip as he fell into Yong Jin’s embrace.

A thin piece of shell clung to Zhou Jun’s lower lip. After watching him for a moment, Yong Jin reached out and brushed it away with his thumb. Zhou Jun’s lip was slightly pale from the pressure, yet still carried an odd charm. But Yong Jin only said, “Dirty.”

Zhou Jun’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger. His eyebrows, eyes, and cheeks seemed painted with color, the gray-blue beads around his neck warming to a soft hue, like chocolate wrapped in blue foil. Puffing up in frustration, he broke free from Yong Jin’s arms and downed a bowl of tea in one go. He frowned and muttered, “The food here’s terrible, but the milk-flavored sunflower seeds are pretty good.”

On stage, Su San sang Yutang Chun, her gaze cutting through the audience. With graceful eyes and hands in motion, it was clear she was looking their way. But while the beauty had intentions, the man remained unmoved. Both gentlemen, it seemed, were rather heartless.

Mu Liqing saw one of them turn his head, but failed to catch what he said. Yong Jin then leaned forward, close enough that it seemed like they were about to kiss.

Mu Liqing felt unsettled, nearly singing the wrong lines. He forced himself not to look in that direction, steadying his tone and continuing to perform the play without falter.

Did they kiss? No, they didn’t. They were just close enough that anyone would think so. Yong Jin simply held a piece of white pastry and fed it to him. Their positions were a bit closer, creating a more ambiguous atmosphere. The pastry crumbs fell on Zhou Jun’s lips, and the treat melted, leaving a sweet taste in his mouth. He licked the crumbs away, his eyelashes fluttering down.

His long lashes quivered softly as they lowered over his eyes. Yong Jin leaned in and blew gently across his eyelids, sending a faint breeze over his skin. Zhou Jun’s delicate lashes trembled again. He closed his eyes, then opened them slowly, only now seeming to realize how close they were. Their eyes met. A single piece of pastry sat between their lips—just one small shift and they would touch.

But Yong Jin began to draw back. The warmth of his breath faded from Zhou Jun’s skin, leaving a sudden emptiness. Zhou Jun’s heart felt hollow, his thoughts spinning. For a moment, he almost leaned forward, instinctively chasing that breath.

As if he hadn’t noticed Zhou Jun’s awkwardness, Yong Jin pulled out a clean handkerchief from somewhere and wiped Zhou Jun’s mouth. With a smile, he said, “You should carry more handkerchiefs when you go out to wipe your mouth.” Zhou Jun let him clean it up and then replied, “It’s clearly your fault for not feeding me properly. You need to practice more.”