In the office, the atmosphere was tense, like blades drawn.

Shi Linchuan was half-leaning and half-sitting on the edge of his desk. Even while hunching over, he was still taller than Xie Jinghe, who was sitting in the chair.

One high, one low—the two stood in a standoff.

Shi Linchuan’s figure was tall and lean; the black suit wrapped around his broad shoulders and narrow waist. When he looked down at someone from that superior position, the pressure of an authority figure poured down instantly…

Xie Jinghe bore the brunt of it.

Perhaps it was the short dream from this morning that gave him a glimmer of inspiration, or perhaps it was the illusion brought on by the nicotine, but as Xie Jinghe stared at the cold, morose man, a different scene flashed in his mind.

—The eye of a hurricane. Ruins. Bottomless fissures. The man stood there alone, the entire world crumbling, on the verge of destruction.

Science dictates that dreams reflect a person’s subconscious.

The massive confusion that had been shrouding him—his subconscious had actually already provided the answer.

Xie Jinghe refused to show weakness, holding his ground against the man. He even reached up and grabbed the man’s collar, shrinking the distance between them to the extreme. Their lips were nearly touching, their breaths mingling.

The next second, Shi Linchuan heard him ask, word for word:

“…You’re afraid, aren’t you? Am I right?”

In this instant, the scent of gunpowder in the air reached its peak.

Shi Linchuan suddenly heard a strange, crackling sound.

He listened quietly for two seconds and discovered that this sound was actually coming from inside his own body, as if a firework had been ignited in his chest. Tongues of flame wantonly licked his flesh, and the oxygen in his blood was quickly consumed.

Consequently, Shi Linchuan’s breathing involuntarily became heavier and faster.

But this reaction was no different from adding fuel to the fire.

Anger gathered in his chest, burning higher and higher, threatening to snap his reason in two.

After several seconds of silence, the fake smile on Shi Linchuan’s face disappeared completely.

He wore a cold expression, glaring fixedly at Xie Jinghe. The strength with which he pinched the other’s jaw grew heavier; his thumb intruded into the wet heat of Xie Jinghe’s mouth, pressing down on that disobedient tongue, and he mocked:

“What exactly did you guess right?”

This was by no means an equal conversation.

Xie Jinghe had been manually silenced; he couldn’t get a single clear syllable out of his throat. He could only glare at Shi Linchuan with eyes that were also on the verge of burning up, his expression incredibly stubborn.

Shi Linchuan’s temple pulsed. As if trying to refute his opponent, he spoke faster and faster, his tone rising sharply.

“Xie Jinghe, slapping me, grabbing my collar…”

“So, were you just pretending to be obedient and sweet in front of me all this time? Then do I need to guess if you’re doing this because you’re afraid I won’t want you anymore?!”

The office was simply too large, with doors and windows tightly closed, trapping the man’s raised volume inside and creating an echo.

Shi Linchuan’s face was as cold as frost, his chest heaving violently.

Hearing the echoes in the room, he suddenly felt a hint of regret.

In over thirty years of life, Shi Linchuan had never regretted a decision he had made.

Today counted as the first time.

…Perhaps he shouldn’t have shown his face today, Shi Linchuan thought.

It seems that hating someone too much really does affect one’s state of mind, leading to irrational decisions.

The system was right.

Adding drama is a waste of time and energy. There was no need to deliberately mess with Xie Jinghe just because he was so annoying; with that time, he might as well process a few more documents.

At least documents don’t have mouths and won’t talk back.

…He should let Pei Yue handle the rest of the business.

After calming down, Shi Linchuan let out a long breath.

He withdrew his thumb from Xie Jinghe’s mouth and then, quite unceremoniously, wiped the wetness from his fingertip onto the other man’s cheek. He looked down at his own collarbone and gestured coldly:

“That’s enough. Let go of your hand.”

Xie Jinghe stared at him steadily. It took a long moment before he let go of the wrinkled white shirt collar, and then he raised the back of his hand to wipe his face.

His expression looked angry and wronged, but his butt remained obediently on the chair, his back straight.

While straightening his collar, Shi Linchuan thought: Xie Jinghe probably wants to continue chatting, but he… didn’t want to hear Xie Jinghe speak anymore.

Not even a single word.

Shi Linchuan stood up straight and pushed up his glasses out of habit. His voice was cold enough to freeze water, as if trying to extinguish the fire in his chest once and for all: “It seems we can’t establish friendly communication. Fine, I’ll go find Pei Yue…”

As the words fell, he caught a glimpse of Xie Jinghe’s left pinky finger flicking sharply.

Shi Linchuan should have walked straight out the door, but Xie Jinghe’s expression stopped him—the stubbornness in those deep eyes was gradually fading, and a look of uncertainty flickered in and out.

Clearly caring so much, yet pretending to be calm.

Xie Jinghe was nervous.

He took a step back, leaning back against the edge of the desk, and raised an eyebrow, challenging: “Didn’t you say you believed I wasn’t cheating on you? Look at you now.”

Xie Jinghe’s lips tightened: “…”

Shi Linchuan found that he had regained the upper hand, and his attitude became aggressive again: “Mute again? Speak.”

Domineering, unreasonable. Bad man.

Xie Jinghe glared at him, cursing him a hundred times in his heart, but what came out of his mouth was:

“Are you like this in front of her too?”

Shi Linchuan smiled and asked: “Like what?”

Xie Jinghe had his hands on his knees, clenched into fists. Because Shi Linchuan had pinched him so hard earlier, there were still red finger marks on his jaw, which inexplicably gave off an aura of battle-worn temptation.

He remained silent for a few seconds and said: “Like scum.”

Shi Linchuan wasn’t angered by the insult; he maintained his faint smile, inwardly sneering.

How could that be possible?

Pei Yue was his subordinate, a capable subordinate with strong executive power and a great sense for reading the room.

He wasn’t crazy; why would he look for trouble with her?

At most, he’d give her the cold shoulder.

It wasn’t as if everyone was as annoying as Xie Jinghe.

Shi Linchuan savored the moment, noticing the other man’s tone sounded like he had swallowed a sour date. He couldn’t help but laugh and retorted: “Didn’t you hold me from behind a few days ago, crying and telling me ‘I still think you’re a good person’? And now you think I’m scum?”

He shook his head and said leisurely: “Xie Jinghe, you really are too fickle.”

“…”

To be honest, Xie Jinghe also thought he was quite sick.

The problem between him and Shi Linchuan didn’t actually involve a third party.

But he couldn’t help but care about the connection between Shi Linchuan and Pei Yue.

He wasn’t a born homosexual. Before meeting Shi Linchuan, he had even fantasized about marrying a woman and having children, building a warm and happy family together.

But he just happened to meet Shi Linchuan.

And then, snap, he turned gay.

He knew Shi Linchuan wasn’t born loving men either.

But more importantly…

The cruel side—or perhaps the real side—that his husband had hidden from him for three years… was being displayed without reservation in front of another woman. Whether this side was good or bad, and whether he could accept it, Xie Jinghe couldn’t help but feel jealous.

Jealousy is a poisonous snake that bites; it always bares its fangs when one least expects it. Once the sharp teeth pierce the heart, the venom spreads along the heartbeat and pulse to every corner of the body.

There is no antidote for this potent poison, save for being soothed by the lover’s hand.

Xie Jinghe took a deep breath, trying to keep his head clear.

“…Don’t keep changing the subject, answer me.”

It was still early.

The light streaming through the window was becoming brighter.

Xie Jinghe probably didn’t know how pathetic he looked right now, just like a puppy that had been innocently kicked.

And Shi Linchuan was the bad person who had kicked the puppy while passing by.

He saw the subtle movement of Xie Jinghe biting his lower lip clearly. Thinking of the contract and variety show discussions to come, he said casually:

“Why would I show my ‘scum’ side in front of a subordinate?”

Xie Jinghe: “…”

Clearly every word was Chinese, but assembling them into sentences was exhausting.

Facing his gaze, Shi Linchuan quickly added:

“And I wasn’t changing the subject.”

Then, he added another sentence:

“Of course, don’t expect that if you hug me and cry, I’ll turn back into who I was before.”

A few seconds passed.

Xie Jinghe lowered his head, picking at his hands, and said softly: “I know, so ever since that morning…”

“I haven’t cried.”

The implication: He wasn’t hoping Shi Linchuan would turn back into the gentle person he used to be.

Shi Linchuan: “…”

One second, two seconds…

A full three minutes passed.

Silence flooded the entire office. Shi Linchuan stared at the small crown of hair on the top of Xie Jinghe’s head, suddenly feeling quite thirsty, and took a sip of the coffee on the desk that had already gone cold.

Just then, Xie Jinghe happened to lift his head.

The two began to stare at each other eye-to-eye again.

Xie Jinghe glanced at the coffee cup in his hand, then scanned his ice-berg-like face, and suddenly spoke: “You’re drinking my cup.”

Shi Linchuan hadn’t reacted yet, and without thinking, he retorted:

“Didn’t you say you don’t mind my saliva? Were you lying?”

Xie Jinghe: “…I don’t mind, but I just threw a cigarette butt in there.”

Hearing this, Shi Linchuan lowered his eyes. He caught a glimpse of the butt floating on the surface of the dark coffee liquid. His expression instantly looked like he had swallowed a fly, and he didn’t forget to kick the poor puppy on the side of the road one more time.

“Xie Jinghe, where did you pick up this filthy habit? It’s disgusting.”

Bang.

He slammed the coffee cup back onto the desk.

Capturing a certain word, Xie Jinghe peered at the man’s sour face and asked bluntly: “Then the fact that you just said you were tired of me—was that a lie too?”

Just a few minutes ago, they had been face-to-face, one pinching a jaw and the other grabbing a collar, arguing so intensely it felt like they were about to fight, the air thick with gunpowder…

Somehow, the content of their argument had evolved into this.

It was unspeakably childish.

—All things considered, it was all Xie Jinghe’s fault.

Shi Linchuan didn’t forget his original intention and grabbed the rake, tossing the blame onto the other man’s head.

He stood up straight, returned to his own boss chair, and comfortably picked up his own cup of black coffee to take a sip, washing away the double-sugar cloying sweetness and the charred bitterness of the cigarette from his mouth. Only then did he say slowly:

“Guess?”

Xie Jinghe looked at the man across from him, as if looking at a complex math problem. The answers in front of him weren’t just A, B, C, or D, but a permutation and combination of various Arabic numerals.

That person intentionally hid his heart in the deepest depths, refusing to let anyone guess it.

And the man who threw out the difficult problem set down the cup of coffee that had only half its liquid left, picked up the fountain pen on the desk, spun it around his fingers a few times, and propped his other elbow on the armrest, his chin supported by the back of his hand.

His posture was extremely arrogant.

Just when Shi Linchuan had seen enough of the other man’s secretly distressed expression and was about to flip through the documents he had long prepared from the drawer, he saw Xie Jinghe stand up abruptly. He circled the desk in two or three steps, sat right in his lap, and wrapped his arms around him.

Those two warm lips were also urgently presented.

Shi Linchuan was licked several times, jerked his face away, and persistently picked at him:

“You’ve been smoking; your mouth tastes like smoke.”

The next instant, he saw Xie Jinghe twist his waist to grab the cup of sugarless black coffee from the desk, gulp down a mouthful, and then turn back to block the man’s sharp mouth with his moist lips.

It wasn’t just a kiss.

Xie Jinghe sat astride him loosely, his waist swaying restlessly, his two forearms tightly hooked around Shi Linchuan’s neck. He pulled the man’s head closer, exchanging the coffee liquid in their mouths.

Bitterness, aftertaste, spiciness.

They had been married for three years, and they didn’t even know how many boxes of contraceptives they had used. Each of them knew exactly where to touch the other to trigger a response the fastest.

The clicking and smacking sounds lasted for a few minutes before pausing.

Shi Linchuan had been attacked by a wild boar of a kiss. His naturally pale lips were now a vivid crimson. The coffee liquid leaking from the corners of his mouth was licked away bit by bit by the person in his arms, yet he still accidentally dirtied his collar.

The white shirt collar was wrinkled and dirty.

The culprit had the nerve to sit in his lap and say brazenly:

“…You’re not tired of me.”

Shi Linchuan’s trash talk came readily: “Men are all like this. What does this prove?”

Xie Jinghe pursed his lips and said: “It proves you still have feelings for me.”

Shi Linchuan countered decisively: “Physical feelings.”

Xie Jinghe: “Physical feelings are also feelings.”

Shi Linchuan sneered and asked: “Is that all the pursuit you have left? Someone lies to you, scolds you, bullies you, and you still want to lean in and lick them? Do you know what they say: [A man without self-respect is like a rotten cabbage]?”

Xie Jinghe: “…”

Such unfamiliar Chinese.

Xie Jinghe straightened his waist slightly, took several deep breaths, his expression complex to the extreme.

“…What do you mean by ‘someone’? Isn’t it just you bullying me? Don’t make it sound like I was bullied by some scumbag outside and ran home to cry to you. Do you think you’re my dad?”

Shi Linchuan raised an eyebrow, righteous and confident: “Haven’t you called me that?”

He had.

And more than once.

Xie Jinghe was only five years younger than him; the age gap wasn’t that big.

Previously, Shi Linchuan had acted out the gentle husband persona at a high level. Not only did he take good care of him in daily life, but it was the same in bed, often side-hugging him and coaxing him with soft whispers.

Because of this persona, Shi Linchuan’s performance in bed was somewhat limited. Naturally, he wouldn’t proactively suggest certain extreme behaviors, including having the person underneath him call him “Dad.”

It was Xie Jinghe who had called it on his own initiative.

That was a night from a long time ago.

During that period, the two of them liked to “do it” on the sofa, and after they were done, they would wrap themselves in a blanket and huddle together to watch TV.

What was playing on the screen was Xie Jinghe’s debut film. The seventeen-year-old boy was still very immature, with baby fat that hadn’t yet faded from his face.

The protagonists of the film were a father and son, and Xie Jinghe played the son who ran away from home because he couldn’t stand his bad-tempered father. The ending was the boy walking alone on the street, his lost and lonely gaze slowly drifting toward the screen, as if breaking the fourth wall.

This segment was the highlight of Xie Jinghe’s career.

As the film’s end credits played slowly, Shi Linchuan suddenly heard the person in his arms whisper,

“…Dad.”

He lowered his head and bumped into eyes that were stifling a laugh, their light as bright as the day.

Xie Jinghe hugged his neck, as if sharing some secret of a boy, and said in a low voice: “Linchuan, if you were my dad, I definitely wouldn’t have run away from home.”

At the time, this person would call him “Little Shi-ge” from time to time, and suddenly promoting him by a generation made Shi Linchuan freeze for several seconds before he could react. He pushed his glasses up and responded with a smile: “Why?”

Xie Jinghe raised his palm, pressed it against his chest, and said seriously: “Because I would already be the happiest child in the world. You’re so good that whoever becomes your child will be very happy.”

Shi Linchuan didn’t speak for a long time. Before the end credits finished playing, he pushed the person in his arms back onto the sofa, imbuing that title with fiery, ambiguous sentiment, shattering any deeper meaning.

Xie Jinghe was quite generous.

Perhaps because he kept in mind that they were both orphans from a welfare institution, after the second round, he wriggled out of Shi Linchuan’s arms, clumsily held the man’s head in the crook of his arm, and encouraged him:

“Linchuan, if I were your dad, I would also work hard to make you the happiest child. If you want to, you can call me—”

“…”

Xie Jinghe suddenly fell silent, his expression stunned.

Shi Linchuan knew he had also recalled this memory and couldn’t help but reiterate: “I’m not your dad now; I’m Old Man Shi from next door, who has a bad temper.”

Xie Jinghe was amused by this sentence.

He laughed drily twice.

He had said he wouldn’t cry, but the corners of his eyes still couldn’t help but turn red.

Shi Linchuan pretended not to see it and leaned back very coldly, both hands resting on the armrests. The irritability and heat that had been aroused had already half-faded away.

Probably about a minute later.

Xie Jinghe held back the transparent liquid welling up in his eyes.

He stared at the loose tie around the man’s neck and asked softly: “So does today count as the first time we’re doing it? It sounds quite novel…”

“By the way, there’s writing on my thigh. Do you want to see?”