I Used You… But I Couldn’t Let Him Go

Though it had been a long time since he had last taken a photo, Ye Zhiqiu still had a few in his phone.

One reason was being busy; another was that the thrill of revenge faded with time.

Sometimes, after posting a WeChat Moment visible only to “Jiang Nan,” he would feel a slight emptiness and boredom.

So, people really were different.

He genuinely couldn’t understand how Jiang Nan had managed to derive pleasure from provoking and trampling on him for ten years in his past life, without ever stopping.

Was Jiang Nan’s inner world simply that barren, or was it because the photos he had were mostly from different settings, lacking novelty and excitement?

Ye Zhiqiu tilted his head and thought for a moment, then patted his pockets.

Only a lighter and a pack of cigarettes were there; he’d forgotten to bring his phone.

The light dimmed again. Accompanied by a very low, quiet laugh, the red glow of the cigarette tip above flickered briefly.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, falling on Qin Jianhe’s shoulders, covered in a black shirt, elongating his tall, straight figure into an even leaner silhouette.

Impulsively, Ye Zhiqiu climbed a few more steps.

The motion-sensor light came on, and with it, Qin Jianhe’s phone screen, extended toward him.

“I brought it,” he said.

The screen was already unlocked. Ye Zhiqiu took it and noticed that the unread messages on WeChat were already overflowing; it seemed the owner hadn’t opened the app in some time.

He only glanced at it, but it just so happened that a message from Yu Renzhi popped up at that moment.

[Yu Renzhi: That makes it convenient for you and your wife to have fun in the office. So envious! I want an office romance too.]

Ye Zhiqiu: “…”

It seemed that Qin Jianhe’s private group chat was discussing him joining Q.L.

But the more excited everyone else was, the more aloof Qin Jianhe seemed.

After all, he hadn’t even bothered to open the app to look.

Ye Zhiqiu found it a bit funny and looked away.

“How do you want to pose this time?” Qin Jianhe asked, not having noticed the incoming message.

“Let’s do the hand again.” Ye Zhiqiu opened the camera and focused it on Qin Jianhe’s hand holding the cigarette.

The slender, white cigarette had accumulated a long ash, framed between the long, well-defined fingers. There was an indescribable, artistic quality, like a black-and-white silent film.

The silver ring on his little finger, with its antique luster, made the hand even more elegant.

Ye Zhiqiu pressed his lips together and tapped the shutter.

Even the camera on Qin Jianhe’s phone was silent, but the image of his hand holding the cigarette was captured.

“Can you send this to me later?” Ye Zhiqiu asked.

Moments ago, they had been far apart, but a phone had drawn him closer.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Qin Jianhe’s mouth as he looked down at him without a word.

Under the light, the young man’s fair skin was tinged with a light pink, his eyes more limpid than usual, lacking their usual clarity and slyness.

It reminded him of the soft, sweet, lingering “mm” of a drunken Ye Zhiqiu on the phone that night.

Unconsciously, his gaze fell again on the light pink mole at the tip of the young man’s nose.

“Okay,” he said.

“Maybe you should send it to me first,” Ye Zhiqiu insisted. “Otherwise, with work, you’ll forget.”

With so many unread WeChat messages, there was no way he’d remember to send a photo once he got busy.

“Okay,” Qin Jianhe agreed again, but this time, a hint of amusement colored his voice.

Under Ye Zhiqiu’s watchful eye, Qin Jianhe opened the messaging app, found Ye Zhiqiu’s contact, and sent the photo.

“Done,” he said.

Then he looked up. “Do you still have that hangover medicine from last time?”

Hangover medicine?

Ye Zhiqiu was taken aback for a moment, then took a small step back.

Those three words appeared like a bucket of cold water, sobering his alcohol-fogged mind slightly.

“Yes,” he said, smiling faintly.

“Mm.” Qin Jianhe looked at him for a long moment before responding quietly.

But the expression in his dark phoenix eyes became unreadable.

“One more thing,” he added. “Why aren’t you home yet?”

It was his first day; the main task was to familiarize himself with the work environment. There was no reason for Ye Zhiqiu to be working late.

“Leaving soon,” Ye Zhiqiu smiled faintly. “Someone’s coming to pick me up.”

The cigarette had long burned out; he had stubbed it out and held it in his palm.

But for some reason, as he said this, he felt a burning sensation.

“Go ahead, then.” Qin Jianhe looked down. “If he calls and you don’t answer, he’ll worry.”

“Mm.” Qin Jianhe nodded, then after a moment, “Welcome to Q.L., Ye Zhiqiu.”

“Thank you,” Ye Zhiqiu smiled. “I look forward to working under you.”

The stairwell fell silent again.

This time, Qin Jianhe didn’t say anything, just looked down at him quietly, as if unsure of his meaning.

Somehow, Ye Zhiqiu felt the polite words, usually so easy to say, were hard to utter to Qin Jianhe. They felt different.

“Get some rest too, President Qin.” Ye Zhiqiu said finally, turning to go downstairs.

But at the last step, he paused and looked back.

The high railing blocked his view. He couldn’t see Qin Jianhe anymore.

But it was still quiet above. He knew Qin Jianhe was still there.

* * * *

Back in the hallway, Ye Zhiqiu stood by his office door for a moment before going in.

There was a voice message from Qi Xin.

“About ten minutes out. You can come down to the lobby in a bit.”

Checking the time, Ye Zhiqiu didn’t move immediately.

He sat at his desk, opened the chat app, and saved the photo he had just taken to his album.

In the light, the photo looked somewhat different.

Just like the first time he saw Qin Jianhe in the Western restaurant, his elegance was what stood out.

He lit another cigarette.

He smoked slowly. After a while, he opened WeChat again, went to his Moments, and attached the photo.

He looked down and wrote a caption:

“Sharing a cigarette with someone feels this wonderful, like countless late nights when we are in an embrace, kissing.”

He set it to be visible only to Jiang Nan and hit send.

His phone rang. Qi Xin was here.

Ye Zhiqiu finished his cigarette, gathered his things unhurriedly, and went downstairs.

Qi Xin was waiting at the company entrance.

“Is your company this strict?” he grumbled, though his envious gaze kept trying to see inside. “Can’t even wait in the lobby?”

“Mm,” Ye Zhiqiu said.

He wore a knit cap and a scarf, only his beautiful eyes visible.

Qi Xin moved closer and caught a faint scent of smoke and alcohol.

“How much did you drink?” he asked, reaching out to steady him. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” Ye Zhiqiu said, stepping aside. He paused, then turned his head and looked at him.

Under the streetlight, his beautiful eyes seemed veiled with a thin mist, making them unreadable.

Qi Xin’s heart skipped. He wanted to pull down his scarf.

But his hands clenched and relaxed, never daring to reach out.

“Xiaoqiu,” Qi Xin inhaled the cold air, trying to quell the sudden warmth in his chest. He pointed downward. “The car’s right there.”

The night was deep; most of the company’s parking spots were empty. Qi Xin’s car was right in front of the steps.

Ye Zhiqiu glanced at it, then walked down.

“Wait up, please, your highness,” Qi Xin hurried after him, sticking close in case he stumbled.

But Ye Zhiqiu didn’t appreciate it.

Not only did he not appreciate it, but he found Qi Xin even more detestable than usual.

The car was still running, the heater on. Ye Zhiqiu took off his coat and unwound his scarf.

Qi Xin watched his every move intently.

Ye Zhiqiu’s expression was cold, but whether from habit or immunity, Qi Xin seemed oblivious.

All he saw was the slight flush on the corners of Ye Zhiqiu’s eyes and cheeks, and his soft, cherry-like lips.

Ye Zhiqiu was always incredibly good-looking; after a few drinks, he was positively captivating.

Qi Xin’s heart pounded. He couldn’t help leaning toward him.

His phone was ringing, but he ignored it, his eyes fixed on Ye Zhiqiu.

Like that night at the club, the first time he saw him.

Except then it was an act; now it was genuine.

He hadn’t seen him over the New Year; he missed him terribly.

That bitter longing cast a rosy glow on Ye Zhiqiu in his mind.

All the insults, his unpredictable moods, his whims—all seemed insignificant.

Especially knowing that Ye Zhiqiu was working on designs for him, the longing was now tinged with gratitude.

Watching Qi Xin draw closer, Ye Zhiqiu felt a mix of contempt and amusement.

His eyes were cold, his nerves tense, so much so that he didn’t notice the black car pulling out of the underground garage.

Or the extremely cold, dark eyes of Qin Jianhe behind the tinted glass.

“Young master.” At the same time, his driver, Uncle Li, also spotted the only car with its lights on in front of the building.

He had picked Ye Zhiqiu up several times, so he recognized him at once.

“Back to the apartment?” Uncle Li asked, his voice unconsciously more cautious than usual.

Qin Jianhe withdrew his gaze and remained silent for a long time.

Waiting for instructions, Uncle Li glanced in the rearview mirror.

Qin Jianhe’s expression was as usual—calm, indifferent. His eyes were downcast, hiding his thoughts.

They were coming to an intersection. Uncle Li was about to ask again when Qin Jianhe looked up.

“To Budu,” he said, loosening his tie. “I’ll have a drink.”

“Yes, sir.” Uncle Li turned the wheel and headed down another road.

The car behind grew smaller, even Q.L. Tower was obscured by other buildings. Qin Jianhe leaned into his seat and closed his eyes.

* * * *

At almost the same moment, a sharp slap echoed in Qi Xin’s car.

Ye Zhiqiu was at the limit of his disgust with Qi Xin. Watching his smug face getting closer, the urge to hurt him grew.

Without thinking, he raised his hand and slapped him hard.

Things were different now. He’d been training in mixed martial arts for a while, and his strength was greater.

Qi Xin’s head snapped to the side. Almost instantly, five red marks appeared on his cheek, and a trickle of blood showed at the corner of his mouth.

It was too hard, too painful. Any tender feelings were shattered.

Qi Xin was stunned and angry, but seeing the cold fury in Ye Zhiqiu’s eyes, he snapped back to reality.

“Is this what you call liking me?” Ye Zhiqiu’s glare was icy, each word a needle. “No respect, just calculation.”

Qi Xin’s heart lurched. Even his anger dissipated.

“Xiaoqiu…” His mind raced, afraid Ye Zhiqiu might have found out. “No, I just like you. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Couldn’t help yourself or taking advantage of the situation?” Ye Zhiqiu’s voice was cold, relentless. “Is it really that hard for you to have a shred of self-respect?”

Qi Xin: “…”

“I really didn’t mean anything by it.” Qi Xin quickly raised his hand to swear.

His slapped ear was still ringing.

He was the one who had been hit, wasn’t he?

Besides, between a couple, isn’t that kind of impulse to be expected? You need to file a report first?

Where was the romance?

“Don’t pick me up again.” Ye Zhiqiu reached for his seatbelt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Qi Xin grabbed his wrist. “I just really like you.”

He leaned his face forward. “You can hit me. But you have to know, I really like you.”

“Ye Zhiqiu,” Qi Xin said, “if you truly like someone, you’d understand why I couldn’t help myself.”

“Is that so?” Ye Zhiqiu paused, looking at him with a mocking smile. “I’ve only had a few drinks. If I were dead drunk, would you ‘not be able to help yourself’ to something else? There’s not a shred of respect in your ‘can’t help yourself.’ Qi Xin…”

He paused, then sneered. “You really are cheap.”

Those words made Qi Xin’s other ear ring too.

Not “your sincerity is really cheap,” but “you are really cheap.”

Qi Xin clenched his fists, took a deep breath, suppressing the humiliation, anger, and fear.

Why was it that Ye Zhiqiu always was the one to humiliate him first, but could always act so righteous and aggressive?

And yet he was still afraid of him.

He was about to speak when his phone rang again.

He didn’t want to answer, but seeing Jiang Nan’s name on the screen, any remaining anger and resentment vanished in fear.

He grabbed the phone, rejected the call, and looked at Ye Zhiqiu.

Luckily, Ye Zhiqiu didn’t seem to have noticed. Qi Xin breathed a silent sigh of relief, feeling a lucky escape.

But before the relief could settle, his phone rang again. Jiang Nan again.

Qi Xin frowned, for the first time finding Jiang Nan annoying.

Why was he like a burr?

He was surprised at himself.

For so many years, it was he who had followed Jiang Nan. But now, or maybe at some point, he had started not to think about him as much?

Even contact that would have made him ecstatic before now just felt like a nuisance?

Qi Xin was stunned.

His grip on the phone tightened as it kept buzzing in his hand, until Ye Zhiqiu looked over.

“You’re getting a call. Why don’t you answer?”

Qi Xin silenced the call.

“Spam call,” he said.

“Really?” Ye Zhiqiu looked at him with an unreadable smile.

He knew that Jiang Nan, seeing his WeChat Moment, would be frantically calling Qi Xin.

Seeing Qin Jianhe’s hand and the cigarette, and especially the caption.

That would be enough to drive Jiang Nan crazy.

After his previous provocations were ruthlessly crushed, Jiang Nan had been quiet for a while.

But it didn’t matter.

Even if Jiang Nan were truly quiet, even if using Qin Jianhe’s photos for revenge grew stale, even if he grew reluctant to use his photos…

He would keep at it, constantly, steadily.

Ten years. No less.

Unless one of them died first.

Ye Zhiqiu covered his eyes and laughed. Alcohol was a good thing. He felt great tonight.

Watching him laugh uncontrollably, Qi Xin frowned, thinking Ye Zhiqiu was more drunk than he’d thought.

“Xiaoqiu,” he asked, “should I get you some hangover medicine?”

“No.” For some reason, at the mention of hangover medicine, Ye Zhiqiu stopped laughing. A look of weariness and disgust crossed his face.

“You think you’re worthy of buying me medicine?” he asked aggressively.

“Fine, I’m not worthy.” Qi Xin gave up, coaxing him. “Let me take you home?”

Seeing Ye Zhiqiu fall silent, Qi Xin sighed in relief and started the car.

He had wanted to ask about the designs Ye Zhiqiu was working on for him, but with the fight, he didn’t dare.

As he drove, his thoughts churned. He glanced at Ye Zhiqiu, who had fallen asleep against the seat.

Asleep, he looked harmless. His dark hair and thick lashes framed his pale face. His lips were slightly parted…

Qi Xin sighed long and hard, unsure if he loved or hated him more.

At the Ye family gate, Ye Zhiqiu woke.

“Home,” Qi Xin said.

“Mm,” Ye Zhiqiu nodded.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” Qi Xin asked.

Ye Zhiqiu closed his eyes and didn’t answer.

“Xiaoqiu,” Qi Xin had been building up courage. “About the designs…”

“I know, I know, haven’t I been working on them?” Ye Zhiqiu said impatiently.

Qi Xin: “…”

His courage evaporated.

He was about to say there was no rush, when Ye Zhiqiu opened his phone.

“I have them ready,” he said, his voice thick with drowsiness. “I’ll send them to you.”

Qi Xin: “…”

The unexpected surprise made his eyes light up.

“Really?”

“Have I ever lied to you?” Ye Zhiqiu’s mood soured, his fingers stilling. “If you don’t trust me, forget it.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt to leave.

“I’m sorry, your highness.” Qi Xin grabbed him, nearly kneeling.

Ye Zhiqiu frowned, his lips pressed together, but eventually unlocked his screen and continued.

Qi Xin breathed a sigh of relief, not daring to say another word.

Watching the files transfer to his email, he relaxed. Even the stinging pain on his face felt sweet.

Ye Zhiqiu must love him. Who else would do so much for someone?

As Ye Zhiqiu got out, Qi Xin followed.

“Xiaoqiu,” he poured out his longing. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed me or the designs?” Ye Zhiqiu leaned against the gate, his smile ambiguous.

“You, of course,” Qi Xin said.

“Then you need to work harder, Qi Xin,” Ye Zhiqiu said. “What good is just missing me? Can you convince my father with that? Use that time to work on yourself.”

“Like this,” he frowned, “neither my father nor I would feel comfortable entrusting anything to someone with no ability and no visible future.”

Qi Xin: “…”

His heart went cold.

“Forget it.” Ye Zhiqiu was done talking. He went inside without a backward glance, indifferent to Qi Xin’s feelings.

Qi Xin: “…”

Did Ye Zhiqiu love him or not?

He stood by the gate for a long time, then went back to the car.

Over a dozen missed calls from Jiang Nan, messages filling his screen.

[Babe: Are you with Ye Zhiqiu today?]
[Babe: Why didn’t you answer?]
[Babe: Qi Xin, don’t you like me?]
[Babe: …]

Jiang Nan sounded jealous of Ye Zhiqiu.

But he didn’t think Jiang Nan really liked him.

All these years, he was the one who had been pining.

Qi Xin frowned. The string of “Babe” was jarring.

He edited Jiang Nan’s contact, changing “Babe” to his name.

Then he changed “Jiang Nan” to “J.”

In both his chat app and contacts.

He replied to Jiang Nan, a hint of pride he didn’t notice in his voice.

[Qi Xin: It was his first day at Q.L. I just drove him home.]

* * * *

Back home, Ye Zhiqiu showered, then reviewed the revised contract New Power had sent through Zhang Mian.

It looked okay. He called Zhang Mian, then went to bed.

Tired, but once in bed, sleep eluded him.

He tossed and turned, finally opening his photo album.

The image of Qin Jianhe’s hand holding the cigarette was there.

He stared at it for a moment, then hit delete.

He turned off the screen, pulled the covers over his head, and curled up.

Time passed.

He threw off the covers, grabbed his phone, went to “Recently Deleted,” and restored the photo.

* * * *

The next morning, he didn’t wait for Qi Xin. He took a taxi to work.

He hadn’t slept well, and a hangover made his head ache. Dark circles stood out against his pale skin.

But he didn’t dare be late, not on his second day.

He hurried into the lobby.

If yesterday was orientation, today was work.

He was probably the only one in the company whose competition pieces were still only on paper.

Time was tight.

At the elevators, one was closing.

He rushed toward it, but as he got closer, he slowed.

Through the narrowing gap, he saw Qin Jianhe.

Their eyes met briefly before the doors closed.

He stopped, confused.

Didn’t Qin Jianhe have his own elevator? Why was he using the employee one?

As he stood there, the closed doors opened again. Qin Jianhe’s gaze met his.

The boss on board made everyone quiet as church mice, but all eyes were on him.

Ye Zhiqiu: “…”

He had no choice but to get on.

People shifted to make space. As the doors closed, he was jostled against Qin Jianhe.

Ye Zhiqiu: “…”

Under the curious stares, he looked down and pretended to be invisible.

But Qin Jianhe seemed unaware of the awkwardness.

“Ye Zhiqiu,” he said, his voice low. “Did you sleep well last night?”