The racetrack was out in the suburbs, open and empty-looking. As Fang Chen got out of the car with Seth, he looked around and couldn’t help asking, “Is this place doing badly? Why aren’t there any people?”

Seth answered casually, “Maybe there aren’t many people on weekdays.”

Fang Chen nodded, not thinking much of it.

Since the boss was visiting, the manager was waiting at the gate, greeting the two enthusiastically, “Hey, gentlemen, welcome to the stables.”

Fang Chen whispered, “Do you come here often?”

“When I have free time,” Seth replied, taking Fang Chen’s hand and leading him inside. “Let me show you my horse first.”

Fang Chen reflexively followed, then glanced down at their tightly clasped hands, blinking and hesitating inside, but didn’t pull away.

Seth’s horse was, obviously, the boss of horses—a luxurious stall all to itself, prancing with excitement. When it saw Seth, it tried to nuzzle him.

Fang Chen was startled by the horse’s head reaching out, quickly hiding behind Seth.

“Zoe, stop!” Seth called.

Fang Chen peeked out from behind, curiously eyeing the glossy black horse, “Zoe? That’s its name?”

Seth’s tone softened, “Mm, you can try calling it, then pet it.”

“Pet it? I’m scared.”

Seth smiled, “It’s fine, I’ll hold your hand. Zoe has a gentle temperament.”

Really?

Fang Chen doubted it—this huge black horse nearly snorted at him.

Seth held Fang Chen’s hand, guiding him to pet Zoe’s head. “Let him get used to you. I’ll take you for a lap in a bit.”

Fang Chen was shocked, “Riding Zoe? Shouldn’t I try a smaller, milder horse first?”

“No need,” Seth lied smoothly, “I’ll ride with you, just one horse.”

“Okay…”

Fang Chen petted Zoe’s ear and smiled. “Thanks for helping.”

Zoe looked fierce but was surprisingly sweet—just a few pats and a smile from Fang Chen, and he was eager to get closer, only to be pulled away by Seth.

“Ignore him, let’s go get changed.”

Before riding, they had to change clothes.

The stables provided uniforms; Seth had a brand-new set brought for Fang Chen.

Handing over the clothes at the changing room door, Seth paused and asked, “Some buttons are tricky—need help?”

Fang Chen’s eyes went wide. He grabbed the clothes and dashed inside, slamming the door.

Seth’s lips twitched, but his eyes darkened.

Fang Chen was slow changing—first time in these clothes. When he came out, Seth was already dressed and waiting.

Hearing movement, Seth put away his phone and looked up.

The riding helmet made Fang Chen’s head look even rounder—Seth was tempted to laugh but held back. He walked over and tightened the chin strap for him, “Looks sharp.”

Helping with the buckle meant Fang Chen had to tilt his chin up, so Seth’s big hand brushed his jaw—like scratching a kitten, a sweet tickle.

Fang Chen’s ears reddened; he asked, “Finished yet?”

His voice was nasal, practically whining.

Seth paused, “Done.”

Fang Chen shook his head to test the helmet, then checked Seth out—black riding jacket, white breeches, boots, and that cool face, like a medieval knight.

Wait… white pants? Aren’t those supposed to… show shape? Is it true?

Sheep’s eyes couldn’t help but wander.
It did look kind of obvious…

“What’re you thinking?” Seth’s voice arose overhead.

Fang Chen snapped his head up, flustered, “Nothing, I didn’t look, not at all!”

Seth narrowed his eyes.

Fang Chen was red as a roast lamb, steaming. He ducked his head toward the door, “Aren’t we riding? Zoe must be waiting.”

Seth didn’t pursue it, just followed him out.

With the place cleared in advance, only the two of them were there. Seth led the horse and gave a brief, technical explanation.

He purposely used jargon—Fang Chen barely understood, just blinked.

Seth smiled, “It’s tricky. I’ll lift you up.”

“Huh?”

Before Fang Chen realized, Seth scooped him up, set him easily on the horse.

Eh?!

Seth mounted behind him—seat tight, so Fang Chen was pressed right up to Seth’s chest, heat radiating through thin fabric, completely surrounded.

What’s the difference from being held anyway!?

Seth reached past to grab the reins, fully enclosing Fang Chen in his embrace.

“Let’s do a lap first,” he said.

With a gentle squeeze, Zoe started trotting; Fang Chen, a first-timer, loved it—wind in his ears, feeling thrilled.

But Seth wasn’t about to be good. Watching Fang Chen’s excitement, he urged Zoe faster—off like a shot.

At the sudden speed, Fang Chen squealed, instinctively leaning back into Seth’s arms.

Seth smiled.

He let go with one hand, wrapped Fang Chen’s waist, leaned close to his ear, “Don’t be scared.”

The ride bounced; Seth’s lips brushed Fang Chen’s ear, making the sheep shiver.

Zoe sped up, wind whipping past; Fang Chen couldn’t even look at the scenery, heart racing hard.

Not just nerves from the ride—but Seth’s grip was getting tighter, nearly embedding Fang Chen into his body.

After a few rounds, Zoe slowed at Seth’s tug. He hopped down, then held out his arms.

Fang Chen’s face was flushed, breath short, hair a mess.

He hesitated, then reached out to Seth.

It was natural—Fang Chen hugging Seth’s neck, Seth holding his bum, lifting him down.

But Seth didn’t let go—just carried him back, “Tired? There’s cold juice in the lounge, rest a bit.”

Tired or not—could he stop carrying him?

Fang Chen squirmed, “Let me go, I’ll walk!”

“Don’t move,” Seth replied, “It’s your first time, your legs might be sore. I’ll carry you.”

Compared to Seth, Fang Chen’s resistance was puny—so he gave up, went limp, leaning against Seth’s shoulder.

Adrenaline hadn’t worn off; he was still shaking.

Seth wished the stable was bigger, so he could carry Fang Chen even longer.

In the lounge, Seth finally let go, settling Fang Chen on the sofa.

He missed the soft feel, though his face stayed cool.

“Want orange juice?”

After all that carrying, Fang Chen could still feel handprints on his rear, shifting awkwardly. “Uh-huh.”

No staff remained—Seth personally poured a glass, handed it over.

Fang Chen sipped, then looked at Seth, “Does this stable belong to you too?”

Seth raised a brow.

Smart sheep.

Even if business was slow, there should be some guests. And the place looked too well-kept for hard times.

Sheep grumbled—swindled again.

Seth didn’t confirm or deny, just replied, “Do you like it? I’ll give it to you.”

Fang Chen, “…”
Did he hear right? The whole stable!?

Rich people are scary!

Fang Chen balled his fists, staring up, “You didn’t bring me here just to ride, did you?”

Seth chuckled, gaze locked on Fang Chen, “If not for riding, what else would I bring you here for?”

Bait him, play with him, of course!

Fang Chen couldn’t say it, mumbled, “When’s the crayfish?”

Seth froze, almost smiling, reached to take Fang Chen’s hand; Fang Chen dodged, but Seth grabbed it again.

“Now. Let’s go.”

.

Fang Chen drowned his feelings in food, scarfed a whole tray, then took home two boxes, stomach bulging.

When Seth dropped him off, he tried to say, “Tomorrow—”

Fang Chen interrupted, “I have rehearsal at school, busy lately…”

Seth’s brow twitched, but he didn’t argue—he’d pushed enough for today.

And school didn’t mean no meetings—he was still a WK student, just light on classes, and only came to campus to see Fang Chen.

Seth called Joey early and got rehearsal hall details. Next day, he showed up right on time.

“Fang Chen, emotion! You should be more sycophantic here, get into character!”

The play was a classic, Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai, and Fang Chen chose to play the servant—less stage time, easier, more relaxed.

But the lead, Liang Shanbo, turned out to be Chen Fang—the guy who’d cornered him at the beach.

If Fang Chen hadn’t agreed to Zhou Lili’s plan yesterday, he’d have quit.

Chen Fang smiled, “Break time, everyone.”

Zhou Lili checked her watch, “Fifteen-minute break, then back together!”

Rest = Fang Chen instantly flopped onto the sofa.

Chen Fang offered a soda. “Tired?”

Fang Chen declined, “Thanks, I’m not thirsty.”

Chen Fang smiled, “You should play the lead—you’re better-looking than me.”

Fang Chen shook his head, “Doesn’t matter which part.”

Before Chen Fang could retort, Fang Chen dragged a coat over his head, muffling, “I need a rest.”

Chen Fang had no choice but to leave.

Hidden in the coat, Fang Chen remembered Seth had messaged—asking if he was busy. But Fang Chen hadn’t replied yet.

“Heey, is this rehearsal? Wow, those outfits—are they your country’s traditional dress?”

Through the coat, Fang Chen heard a voice outside.

Hmm? Sounded familiar.

“Joey? Why are you here?” Zhou Lili greeted enthusiastically.

Joey was a social butterfly—friends in every circle.

“Here visiting. Can I watch?”

“Of course!”

Fang Chen, still hiding, felt his heart thump.
Joey’s here—so Seth?

Just as he thought of Seth, Joey continued, “Let me introduce you—Seth Bolton, quite a VIP guest!”

The hall went quiet for a moment, then was noise again.

Fang Chen didn’t move, feeling moody.

The celebrity!
Just here to show off.
Oddly frustrated but not sure why.

Seconds later, Zhou Lili called, “Fang Chen, back on stage!”

He pulled off his coat, face set, skipped looking at Seth, went straight to Zhou Lili. “One more run, then I’m leaving.”

She noticed his mood and didn’t press.

The next scene: Fang Chen, the servant, bullying Liang Shanbo. He struck Chen Fang, who fell down; Fang Chen kicked him. “That’ll teach you to ruin our young master’s plans!”

Pretty fierce.

In the audience, Seth lounged, eyes fixed solely on Fang Chen.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like anyone else looking at his little lamb.

When Fang Chen finished, he went backstage to change—never glanced at Seth.

Seth waited a few seconds, then followed.

Zhou Lili asked, “Where’d Seth go?”

Joey chuckled, “Probably getting air. Or chasing after Fang Chen.”

In the spare backstage changing room, Fang Chen tried to close the door—Seth’s hand stopped it, pushing firmly open.

Fang Chen wasn’t surprised, just frowned, “What do you want?”

Seth stared at him. “Are you mad?”

He never figured out why Fang Chen got upset—all he knew was, it was always his fault.

“No, I just need to change.”

Seth ignored that, still blocking the door, “You didn’t reply to my message this morning.”

Fang Chen mumbled, “Didn’t see it.”

Liar.

Seth kept a calm face, even smiled, asking, “Are those your country’s clothes? So cute—I’ve never seen them.”

Fang Chen blushed; his outfit was plain, typical of a servant character, with a crooked hat.

Seth wasn’t lying.
To him, Fang Chen was always cute—now an angry little bird.

“Really—you look better than anyone.”

Seth pressed his advantage, squeezed into the tiny room, making it seem even smaller.

Fang Chen instinctively stepped back, breath tight, staring up defiantly. “What do you want?”

“Why are you mad?” Seth repeated. “I came to see you. Are you upset?”

He was troubled. His Chinese was coming along, but he still couldn’t grasp Fang Chen’s moods.

Fang Chen shook his head.
He really didn’t know—everything felt messy and confusing and ambiguous.

He hated that—hated the in-between.

Seth paused, then said, “Actually, I’m not happy either.”

Huh??
Fang Chen stared at him.

“That guy—at the beach, you laughed with him. Just now too, you were hitting and roughhousing.”

Fang Chen was shocked.

If your eyes are bad, get them fixed, rich boy!
“It wasn’t roughhousing, it was acting.” Fang Chen showed his fist. “I was beating him up!”

Seth pressed, “Why only him, not someone else?”

“…”

“It’s in the script!”

Fang Chen shoved Seth, trying to get him out. “I have to change, get out!”

But Seth didn’t budge. Instead, he pulled Fang Chen tight into his arms.

Suddenly embraced, Fang Chen, “o.O?”

Seth’s voice was hoarse, “Don’t be mad, alright? If you’re upset about yesterday at the stables, I’m sorry.”

Enough! Fang Chen was tired of ambiguity. He pushed away, voice rising, “And do you know why I’m upset? You hug me, hold my hand, but never say outright what you mean. Is all that just your custom? Why don’t you do it with Joey?”

“Seth! Stop messing with me.”

His eyes reddened, heart pounding, anger and hurt bubbling out.

He didn’t mean to cry, but it just happened—he’d always been prone, maybe it came with the soul. When upset, the tears just started.

When Seth saw those red eyes, he faltered, lips parting, for once at a loss. He finally managed, hoarse, “I’d never bully you, how could I—I like you, I could never have enough of you.”

One glance at Fang Chen hurt more than any punch.

Seth’s heart thudded, awkward words spilling out. Not proud, not aloof—just vulnerable.

“Don’t cry, please.”

Fang Chen hated crying, feeling ridiculous as the tears kept coming, getting angrier at himself.

“Don’t say that. Don’t—” Fang Chen paused, staring, “What did you just say?”

Seth looked pained, repeating, “Don’t cry.”

“No—the one before!”

Seth hesitated, “Would never bully you—I like you.”

Silence.

Fang Chen let go, seeing Seth’s belt all wrinkled from where he’d clutched it.

He looked aside, sniffed, voice muffled. “You never said it before.”

Seth didn’t know how things had gone so sideways. He always liked control, but with Fang Chen, always lost it.

He tried to wipe away the tears, but Fang Chen smacked his hand away. Lips tight, Seth lifted Fang Chen up to the counter, so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck.

Surprised, anger still glowing in his eyes, Fang Chen glared.

Seth paused, then continued, “Liked you from the beginning. Wanted you cheering for me at the match. At the ranch—liked you. But you said people from the East are more reserved, so I didn’t dare say it.”

It was the first time Seth admitted “didn’t dare”—like armor sprouting a soft spot.

“Hugging, being close, it’s because I like you, not to mess with you. I respect you.”

Fang Chen sat, stunned.

Seth took the chance to get closer, finally brushing the tear off Fang Chen’s lashes.

“Fang Chen… What about you?”

Mind short-circuited, Fang Chen asked, “What?”

Seth’s eyes deepened, “Can we be together?”

Fang Chen swung his legs, suddenly holding the upper hand. “You haven’t even chased me yet—how could we be together?”

Seth agreed instantly, “Okay, I’ll chase you.”

He hugged Fang Chen’s waist, pulling him close. “Next time you’re upset, can you tell me first?”

Just didn’t want to see him cry.

Fang Chen kicked his shin, “How would I know ahead of time?”

Seth pursed his lips, silent.

“Alright, let go, I need to change for real.”

No way Seth was letting go now—having finally confessed, all he wanted to do was hold on, stamp his mark everywhere.

He couldn’t help asking, “Baby, can I kiss you?”

Fang Chen was stunned, “What did you say?!”

He hadn’t even started “chasing” and already wanted kisses? Skipping ahead much?
Just confessed, now already calling him “baby”…

Seth’s restraint was at its limit, Fang Chen’s lips so glossy and inviting.

He ducked his head, coaxing, “Just one kiss, baby. Just one.”

“Seth! You—”

The rest of the words were eaten by a soft sound of kissing.

A prop was missing, so Zhou Lili came backstage. She remembered Seth had gone in, but hadn’t seen him.

She found the prop, but just as she turned to leave, heard something from a cubicle.

Was someone inside? Maybe a rat?

Drawn by the sound, she approached and saw, through a crack, Seth’s broad back, head bent, sheltering someone completely. All she could hear were the wet, mingled sounds of kissing.

Zhou Lili froze, blushed, and tried to flee—but the figure on the desk kicked Seth, and she saw the edge of familiar clothing.

She paused, watching a moment longer—Fang Chen tried to push Seth away, but was pinned and kissed.

Zhou Lili hurried off.
She knew exactly who it was now.
No wonder Seth came to rehearsals—it was all to see Fang Chen.

__

Author’s Note:
Mini-theater
On Valentine’s Day, they’d both prepared surprises for each other.

Seth dyed his hair black, put in dark contacts, wore a tailored Chinese suit, looking like a stern patriarch.

Fang Chen, coming home, was stunned—he’d gotten Jamin’s help for his own transformation: gold curly wig, bright blue contacts, Gothic noble outfit, like a little prince from a 19th-century castle.

Totally swapped styles.

Finally, the little prince was lifted to the patriarch’s lap, kissed until his lips were red and wet, blue eyes hazy, white stockings ripped to dangle off one ankle.

He sobbed Seth’s name, words muffled and indistinct.

Seth smiled, carrying him to the bedroom.

“Good boy, no begging tonight.”