Chapter 62

Chapter 62 Chapter Sixty-Two Rose.

The agreed dinner ultimately wasn’t made.

The blade struck the cutting board, chopping the potato into fine shreds with rapid thuds. When half remained, the fluorescent tube suddenly crackled, then everything fell into darkness.

He Linfeng’s smooth movements paused, and he looked up.

“Power outage.” Perfectly adapting to the change in light, Jian Qing turned off the refrigerator and turned around. His eyelashes didn’t even move. From the corner of his eye, he saw the metal blade pressed tightly against the man’s bent knuckles.

So he grabbed He Linfeng’s sweater and pulled the other’s left arm backward.

The man didn’t resist, cooperatively releasing his strength, glancing back: “Hm?”

The team had temporarily taken on a murder case. He had worked continuously for more than twenty hours, only freeing up time at noon today. After a quick rest, he brought newly bought ingredients over. His whole body exuded a soft languor, like a beast dozing before a fireplace in winter, his temperament especially warm and harmless.

“Afraid your blood will dirty my food,” Jian Qing tossed out coolly as explanation, letting go. “I’ll check the fuse.”

He Linfeng copied him, pressing Jian Qing’s shoulder and tilting his chin outward: “Seems unnecessary.”

“Look, the whole neighborhood is the same.”

The lights went out in unison.

“What does the owners’ group say?” Completely unconcerned about being solved with force, He Linfeng was experienced. “There should be a notice in this situation.”

Jian Qing glanced sideways at the man’s rolled-up sleeve, staring from the wrist bone all the way to the fingertips, meticulously, as if considering how to snap them inch by inch.

Yet his thoughts were led away in confusion: “…owners’ group?”

“Yeah,” thinking of a certain president’s WeChat lacking personal traces, He Linfeng laughed. “Forget it. Do you have the property management’s phone number? They’ll definitely know.”

Jian Qing lowered his head and dialed a string of numbers.

He Linfeng politely shifted his gaze away, but still noticed that the other’s contacts were very sparse—just a slight scroll reached the bottom.

A line fault had occurred. Several nearby communities were affected. The property management apologized repeatedly, saying workers were urgently repairing it and it was expected to be restored by nine.

Accustomed to being nocturnal, whether there were lights or not didn’t affect Jian Qing much. But cooking rice and stir-frying required electricity. He always resisted using a stove with open flame, so he felt somewhat at a loss.

Fortunately, He Linfeng was still in the preparation stage, and nothing had been thrown into the pot yet. Jian Qing hung up the phone and found the “head chef” had already opened a review app.

The disappointment he expected seemed to exist only in expectation.

Despite exhaustion from staying up and working overtime, still coming to the appointment, yet missing it at the last step—He Linfeng still had the mood to hum a song, hooking the corner of his eyes as he asked, “Which place do you like to eat?”

Jian Qing tried to find traces of forced cheerfulness on the other’s face, and failed.

“Fu Shun Zhai.”

Reopening the refrigerator, he took out several transparent storage boxes, expression as indifferent as always: “Put these away. They can still be used tomorrow.”

Like apples, potatoes oxidize easily after peeling. Yet Jian Qing, like a kitchen novice, had no intention of throwing them away.

He Linfeng knew Jian Qing could cook.

Joy overflowed from his brows. He leaned close to Jian Qing: “Aren’t the potato shreds I cut especially good-looking?”

“This one, graceful and upright; this one, balanced in thickness; this one…”

He stood slightly behind, a bit taller than Jian Qing. When speaking he lowered his head slightly, his breath brushing past the young man’s ear like a spring breeze. His hand stretched forward, “pointing out the land,” enthusiastically judging the potatoes. At first glance, it looked as if he had circled the person into his arms.

Jian Qing moved his elbow.

Through the sweater, he could also feel the tension of the man’s muscles beneath the fabric. Pretending, He Linfeng pressed his ribs and let out a muffled “mm.”

With masterful control of strength, President Jian remained unmoved. The gold-rimmed glasses reflected a faint light, displaying the capitalist’s “cold-bloodedness” to the fullest.

One second.

Two seconds.

If the child is quiet, he must be causing trouble. Jian Qing frowned and turned his head, only to find that He Linfeng, who should have been acting, was gazing at him with shining eyes, his pupils seeming lit by sparks.

They were too close.

Just like that night in the empty old residence, Jian Qing leaning against the wall, blocked in the middle by He Linfeng.

“Fu Shun Zhai requires advance reservation,” the atmosphere was subtle; physical contact was undoubtedly adding fuel to the fire. Jian Qing resisted the urge to push the other away and provided a reasonable step for both of them, “I’ll make a call.”

He Linfeng gave a low “Mm.”

“Call.”

That’s what he said, yet he didn’t move, neither forward nor backward.

A social distance far below the standard value seemed perfectly normal to him. His expression showed not the slightest ambiguity, so whoever reacted more intensely would appear guilty and lose ground.

“Want me to get it for you?” His gaze swept over the slight bulge in the young man’s pocket, and He Linfeng spoke.

As usual, his voice carried a smile, only the undertone was a bit hoarse, weakening the provocation and revealing a trap-like temptation.

Jian Qing ignored him.

Fu Shun Zhai was a restaurant he frequented. Regular customers naturally received some preferential treatment. As soon as the call connected, the other side immediately told Jian Qing there were still private rooms available, he could come anytime, the pleasantries warm and thoughtful.

“…Mm.”

“About twenty minutes.”

“We’ll talk when we arrive.”

Most of the time, though slightly impatient, he was willing to maintain a polite facade, like the thin muscles hidden under his suit.

But everything had exceptions.

A thick, tangible gaze fell on his lips, its presence extremely strong, almost making one understand what it meant to toy with and what it meant to burn. Jian Qing pressed his opening and closing mouth together, lifted his foot, and kicked toward He Linfeng at a tricky angle.

Skin long deprived of sunlight was pale to near transparency; veins wound beneath the flesh like slender green snakes. He Linfeng wanted to reach out and catch that beautiful ankle, yet feared truly angering the other. The fingertips hanging by his trouser seam curled; he neither dodged nor moved, taking the kick solidly.

Jian Qing’s slipper tilted.

Then its owner straightened it: “Change clothes.”

After entering the room he had only taken off his coat. He Linfeng casually draped it back on while searching for Fu Shun Zhai’s address, leaning at the entryway waiting for Jian Qing.

Soon, the security door clicked open.

“…A bit dazzling,” the flashlight shone brightly. He Linfeng reminded, “Is it the one on Wenjiao Road?”

Jian Qing nodded: “Mm.”

Then he grabbed the fabric wrapping He Linfeng for the second time.

“How?” The latter was eager to try. “Afraid? Need to hold hands to walk?”

Jian Qing: “Apron.”

“You’re planning to apply to be a head chef?”

He Linfeng noticed half a beat later that something was still hanging around his neck.

The apron was inside the coat. He didn’t dare trouble Jian Qing to help, quickly took care of it himself, folded it neatly, and placed it on the shoe cabinet: “I’ll tidy it up when we come back.”

His attitude was so natural, as if he had already lived in this home for a long time.

The elevator had stopped running, but it didn’t affect the seventh floor much. The two walked down side by side, and during the process Jian Qing received a WeChat message from Bian Shao:

[Gold-patron big brother~]

[Come watch this young master drift.]

Attached was a blurry meme of the Queen of the Women’s Kingdom, and the location of the XXX mountain road track.

Completely a playboy.

Suspecting the other had gone crazy with excitement over mentioning a new car, Jian Qing poured cold water from afar: [No time.]

He respected Bian Shao’s hobby, but truly couldn’t appreciate this high-risk sport. If he hadn’t acted as a “sponsor,” the other normally wouldn’t look for him.

Bian Shao: [So cool.]

Bian Shao: [Work?]

Jian Qing’s reply was delayed a few seconds:

[Private matter.]

Bian Shao didn’t pursue further, probably called away by other friends. Jian Qing exited the interface, when he suddenly heard a teasing repetition by his ear: “Gold-patron big brother?”

The enunciation was especially clear.

Jian Qing: ……

“Naked vision 5.2,” He Linfeng raised his brows. “Couldn’t hold back at first.”

Although he knew Jian Qing was nocturnal, the other was walking downstairs while playing with his phone, and the steps were high, so he inevitably stayed attentive in case he really stumbled.

Jian Qing was silent for a while.

He felt he actually had no need to explain, yet something seemed stuck in his chest, swelling dully, urging him to open his mouth.

“It’s Bian Shao,” Jian Qing said as if casually. “I’m not used to changing remarks.”

He thought He Linfeng would take the opportunity to tease further.

After all, he had lowered his head first in this round.

Yet the other only said gently, “Mm.” Serious and satisfied.

The neighborhood where Jian Qing lived had wide grounds and sparse buildings; the neighbors in his building were even fewer. Most temporary parking spaces nearby were empty, conveniently for He Linfeng.

By the time the two had eaten their fill and taken a walk back, the neighborhood streetlights were already lit as usual.

“Pity, there aren’t any good movies tonight,” carrying a paper bag with takeout boxes, He Linfeng gestured for Jian Qing to swipe the card. “I’ll walk you upstairs.”

Jian Qing raised his eyes.

He didn’t understand—what need was there for accompaniment for a trip of just over ten seconds by elevator.

But since He Linfeng insisted, declining would only be less efficient.

“The shredded potatoes we cut earlier—add some salt and MSG, then some chopped scallions and diced carrots, brush two layers of oil and you can pan-fry them into small cakes,” careful and considerate, the man instructed, almost writing a text tutorial, “as for the packed osmanthus honey and osmanthus cake, there’s glutinous rice inside, at night…”

Jian Qing: “For you.”

“…you can also eat it at night, you can eat it now,” He Linfeng changed his words quickly, “my digestion ability is especially good.”

Ding.

The elevator arrived.

According to the usual banter, he should have received a light scoffing laugh at this moment, but Jian Qing didn’t.

He Linfeng followed the other’s gaze.

In the corridor, under bright light, a small bouquet lay quietly in front of the tightly closed security door, well matched, staggered in height, surrounding roses.

Fiery red roses.

The blood drained from his face; Jian Qing’s expression visibly turned ugly.

“Maybe it was a delivery sent to the wrong place,” raising his hand to push Jian Qing out of the elevator, He Linfeng’s tone was light, “perfect, I’ll throw it away for you on the way.”

Out of professional habit, he used tissue, not touching it directly with skin. His gaze quickly swept over the small bouquet and noticed the wrapping paper was clean without a logo, and the shape was so small it didn’t seem like an order a flower shop would take.

More like a spur-of-the-moment DIY.

—The “delivery” guess was wrong.

The security of Jian Qing’s neighborhood was high. Aside from homeowners, all visitors had to register. The reason he himself could enter freely was because his license plate had been registered with the guard.

—Even flash delivery required homeowner approval.

Peeping.

Following.

Taking advantage of an opening.

Countless nauseating memories surged up. Jian Qing’s face was icy; he even forgot to take off his shoes, searching the house himself, even in front of He Linfeng—opening the curtains, opening the wardrobe, opening the empty apartment across the hall that he had bought.

Amid the mess, someone gripped his hand tightly:

“Let’s go.”

“I’ll accompany you to the monitoring room.”