You Want Love? I’ll Give It to You

Qin Jianhe had witnessed plenty of human depravity.

His experiences growing up had led him to believe that nothing could surprise him anymore, that he could face anything with equanimity.

But thinking of those two people outside the curtain just now…

One was Ye Zhiqiu’s closest relative; the other, likely the person he had given his heart to.

For this person, Qin Jianhe had tailored Q.L.’s contract specifically. For this person, despite his busy schedule, he had even drawn up designs for that cheap brand…

The scorching heat of the cigarette smoke hit his throat. It should have burned, but all Qin Jianhe could taste was the cold mint of the cigarette.

From those few words, he had gathered that Ye Zhiqiu’s stepmother was also involved.

Ye Zhiqiu was combative; he never backed down from a fight.

If he ever learned that those closest to him, those he trusted most, were all betraying and hurting him, how would he endure it?

Remembering the little brown bottle Ye Zhixia had thrown to Qi Xin, Qin Jianhe looked down and unlocked his phone.

He opened the messaging app and found Ye Zhiqiu’s name.

[Qin Jianhe: Are you seeing Qi Xin tonight?]

It was direct and abrupt, but he hit send.

* * * *

When Ye Zhiqiu received the message, he had just returned from the side hall.

He paused, puzzled. He checked the contact info.

The profile was blank. The name was “QIN,” which he had set, followed by “Qin Jianhe.”

It was definitely Qin Jianhe.

But why would he suddenly ask about Qi Xin? Such a personal question…

Why was he asking? And from what position?

Ye Zhiqiu frowned and replied.

[One Leaf Knows Autumn: Probably not tonight.]

His phone rang immediately. Qi Xin.

He answered and took a sip of the juice Bai You handed him.

“What is it?”

“Xiaoqiu,” Ye Zhiqiu could hear the wind. “Where are you?”

“It’s Baobao’s birthday. I told you I was coming.” Ye Zhiqiu was impatient.

“Sorry.” Qi Xin was agitated. Thinking of Ye Zhixia’s words, he felt desperate to see Ye Zhiqiu.

“I miss you,” he said. “Can we meet tonight?”

Ye Zhiqiu pulled the phone away and looked at his chat with Qin Jianhe.

[QIN: Are you seeing Qi Xin tonight?]
[One Leaf Knows Autumn: Probably not tonight.]

Now there was another message.

[QIN: Don’t see him.]

Qi Xin was still talking. Ye Zhiqiu typed.

[One Leaf Knows Autumn: Okay.]

He put the phone back to his ear. “Not tonight.”

“I won’t take much time,” Qi Xin said quickly. “I’ll pick you up, take you home.”

“I miss you.”

“No.” Ye Zhiqiu’s voice was final. “I’m staying here with Shaojun and Lele. Plans were made.”

He hung up.

He switched back to the chat. No new message from Qin Jianhe.

The brief exchange was strange. It didn’t read like acquaintances or colleagues. It sounded like a jealous lover.

And his own reply was too obedient.

He added a follow-up.

[One Leaf Knows Autumn: I don’t know why you’re interested in my personal life, but I’m not seeing Qi Xin tonight because I’m at a friend’s birthday, not because of anyone else.]

* * * *

When Qin Jianhe received the message, he was alone in a side room.

The curtain was closed. He had been trying to find photos of Ye Zhiqiu from their earlier encounters.

Had he posted the one from the stairwell? What caption had he used?

His phone buzzed.

He read Ye Zhiqiu’s message and smiled slightly.

[Qin Jianhe: As long as you don’t see him.]

He went back to the banquet.

This was an annual company dinner, a tradition.

With fashion week approaching, it was a chance to discuss upcoming exhibitions.

It went smoothly. Qin Jianhe listened more than he spoke.

Near the end, he raised his glass.

“I have a suggestion,” he said. “For now, fine. But next season, some of our partners need to be reconsidered.”

He drank.

The others followed, confused.

“President Qin,” a manager asked, “anyone in particular?”

Besides Q.L., there were many smaller brands under the Qin Group. Partners were numerous.

People preferred consistency.

“Like Jinqi, this year,” Qin Jianhe said, his gaze flat.

Everyone knew about Jinqi’s betrayal of VIA. No one expected Qin Jianhe to have noticed.

“Of course,” an older manager said quickly. “It slipped my mind. We haven’t terminated the contract.”

Qin Jianhe just smiled.

Others understood. “We’ve discussed it. To protect the company, we’ll end all cooperation with Jiang family brands.”

Qin Jianhe nodded slightly.

“And Manqing,” he said. “I won’t suppress it if the work is good. But I won’t have the company’s reputation used for Qin Wei’an’s benefit. Don’t go to Old Qin; come to me with your resignation.”

The room fell silent. A few men wiped their brows.

Manqing was Qin Xusheng’s provision for his younger son.

After Qin Jianhe took over Q.L., Qin Xusheng had spun off Manqing, a third-tier brand, and given it to Qin Wei’an.

It was a moneymaker, thanks to its broad market. Qin Xusheng was looking out for his favorite.

But if Qin Wei’an could nearly ruin Q.L., a luxury brand, he could certainly ruin Manqing.

In recent years, Manqing’s appearances were deceptive. It was struggling. Old employees were leaving.

Using Qin Xusheng’s influence, Manqing still accessed Qin Group resources: show spaces, fashion week slots, using the company’s prestige to boost its own reputation.

It wasn’t a major issue. Qin Jianhe had ignored it.

But now, he might as well deal with it.

“Old Qin might object,” someone said. This man had worked for Qin Xusheng.

“Then go work for him,” Qin Jianhe said. “He needs a caregiver.”

“No, I didn’t mean…” The man’s brow was damp.

“I’ve said nothing because I assumed you all understood,” Qin Jianhe said, his gaze sweeping the room. Some looked away.

“But today, I’m disappointed. So, let’s be clear. Old Qin has retired. He’s no different from any other retiree to you all.”

He was different. They all knew it.

“If he has a problem, send him to me.” Qin Jianhe’s smile was cold. “I don’t mind his pressure.”

The room was silent.

“Anyone else?”

No one spoke.

“Then we’re done.” Qin Jianhe’s tone relaxed. “Thank you for your work. I look forward to another good year.”

After a chorus of polite responses, he stood.

His presence, even silent, was commanding. No one dared speak as he left.

“Should we sing?” someone asked.

“Sing? At our age?”

“What else? The boss is paying.”

They decided on a bar, to exchange resources.

* * * *

At 11:30, Jin Baobao’s party ended.

There was talk of going out, but Ye Zhiqiu had work the next day, and Bai You was on a film break and had to leave early.

Jin Baobao decided they should just talk and sleep.

His room was large, but not for four.

Li Shaojun took a guest room. Tang Le wanted to be near Ye Zhiqiu. Bai You wanted to talk to Jin Baobao.

Tang Le took the sofa, Bai You made a bed on the floor, and Ye Zhiqiu shared the bed with the birthday boy.

“I didn’t get to ask about your face,” Bai You said. He’d arrived late, helping his mother.

“Ye Zhixia,” Ye Zhiqiu said.

The injury served a purpose: to anger Ye Hongxian, to show the growing rift, to pave the way to move out.

He knew moving out wouldn’t be easy. Ye Hongxian would object, and Tao Ruoqing would resist losing control.

Saying it was because of Ye Zhixia might not work; he was away for months at a time.

But another injury was different.

If the brothers couldn’t be in the same room without fighting, without the house being in chaos, Ye Hongxian would be the first to relent. And Tao Ruoqing couldn’t stop it.

“What’s wrong with him?” Bai You asked. “I heard he’s hurt you before.”

“Don’t call him ‘young master,'” Jin Baobao said.

“Okay, Baobao.”

“Forget it,” Jin Baobao said. “You make it sound weird. Call me young master.”

“I won’t.”

Everyone laughed.

“Your family is good,” Ye Zhiqiu said, watching them.

“What are your plans?” Bai You asked. “This can’t continue.”

“I’m thinking of moving out,” Ye Zhiqiu said. “It might be better for everyone.”

“Your dad won’t like it,” Jin Baobao said.

“And you’d have to cook for yourself,” Tang Le added.

Ye Zhiqiu smiled. In his past life, he couldn’t. Now, he could get a chef’s license.

“It’s not a problem. There are restaurants everywhere.”

“When?” Jin Baobao asked.

“When my dad is home.”

Ye Hongxian hadn’t been home for days. And with fashion week, he’d be gone for weeks. He hadn’t even looked for an apartment.

There was time.

“That works,” Jin Baobao said.

Ye Zhiqiu yawned.

He knew Tang Le would pass this to Tao Ruoqing. He’d shown no resentment, only wanting to avoid Ye Zhixia. Her suspicion would ease.

Even if he left, she would visit, play the caring stepmother, urge him to come home.

Better to lay the groundwork now.

He fell asleep quickly, but with Tang Le in the room, he slept lightly. He woke with dark circles.

* * * *

After breakfast at the Jins’, he drove to work.

He was finishing his last piece; Wei Tingjin was coming for a fitting.

He worked until afternoon.

After Wei Tingjin left, his assistants were excited, especially Wang Ru.

She’d had doubts. But in the designs, Wei Tingjin transformed. His presence, his expression were perfect.

Her worries vanished.

She waited until the end of the day to share her enthusiasm.

But late afternoon, a call from upstairs summoned Ye Zhiqiu to the executive office.

He climbed the stairs, pausing at the landing. Through the window, the sky was clear.

The moon would be bright tonight, he thought.

In Qin Jianhe’s office, Meng Da and Zhou Lang were already there.

“Everyone’s here.” Qin Jianhe’s gaze paused on Ye Zhiqiu’s scratched cheek. “Let’s begin.”

Ye Zhiqiu sat by the window, silent.

“I’ve seen the emails to the factories.” Qin Jianhe looked at Zhou Lang. “Explain.”

“Xiao Ye and I had words, but it was nothing. An intern, trying to defend me, sent those emails without my knowledge.” Zhou Lang was smooth. “I apologize to Teacher Xiao Ye.”

Ye Zhiqiu smiled noncommittally.

“I accept your apology.”

“Apologizing to Teacher Xiao Ye is one thing,” Qin Jianhe said. “The factories deserve one, too.”

Zhou Lang’s expression stiffened.

“Tonight, every factory that received those emails will get a proper apology. And, Zhou Lang, Q.L.’s website will publish a public reprimand for a week, with your apology.”

Zhou Lang was shocked. So were Meng Da and Ye Zhiqiu.

Zhou Lang was a senior figure. A public reprimand was a public humiliation.

With fashion week approaching, it would be hard to avoid.

“President Qin,” Zhou Lang protested. “Isn’t this excessive?”

Zhou Lang’s arrogance came from his tenure. With the show, he’d expected Qin Jianhe to be lenient.

“Excessive?” Qin Jianhe was cold. “If Teacher Xiao Ye couldn’t get materials for his work, would that be excessive?”

“He got them,” Zhou Lang said.

“A friend helped me,” Ye Zhiqiu said. “No公司 supplier would provide them.”

“It’s settled.”

Zhou Lang panicked. “President Qin…”

Qin Jianhe’s look silenced him. Zhou Lang understood: he wasn’t as important as he thought. This was lenient.

“Fine,” he said.

“And.” Qin Jianhe projected the submitted designs. “I asked senior designers, including your mentor, Mr. Wang, to judge. Teacher Xiao Ye’s pieces ranked highest. Your appeal is denied.”

Zhou Lang’s face darkened.

The judges were top-tier. Their verdict was final.

Notably, two other designers’ work had ranked above Zhou Lang’s.

“Zhou Lang,” Qin Jianhe said, “you were talented. But you’ve been coasting. Others have surpassed you.”

He pointed to the designs.

“They won’t complete their work in time. But this selection process will continue. These judges are impartial.”

Meng Da and Ye Zhiqiu were silent.

Zhou Lang left, head bowed. In the crowded elevator, he understood: Qin Jianhe had been merciful. A formal hearing would have been worse.

* * * *

Meng Da left. Ye Zhiqiu followed.

“Ye Zhiqiu,” Qin Jianhe said. “A moment.”

Ye Zhiqiu stopped.

He’d won, but he felt no joy.

He was right to fight. If it happened again, he would again.

“Ye Zhiqiu.” Qin Jianhe approached, stopping before him.

“When we negotiated, you said you might give unsuitable designs to others.”

Something was different. Qin Jianhe was sharp, dangerous.

“Yes,” Ye Zhiqiu said.

“To Qi Xin?”

Ye Zhiqiu was cautious. “That’s my business.”

“It is. But is he worth it?”

Ye Zhiqiu was confused. “You’re investigating me?”

“Not me.” Qin Jianhe handed him a file. “Someone else is. They sent me photos of you and Qi Xin. I followed up.”

Ye Zhiqiu opened it. Photos of Qi Xin and Jiang Nan.

“The man you like likes someone else. Did you know?”

Ye Zhiqiu’s fingers tightened. He wanted this buried. It could disrupt his plans.

He put the photos back.

“It’s my business,” he said coldly, reaching for the door.

It didn’t open. Qin Jianhe was holding it.

He moved closer, pinning Ye Zhiqiu.

“Ye Zhiqiu,” he said, his eyes dark. “Are you starved for love?”

Ye Zhiqiu was furious.

In his past life, that need, that want, had led him into a trap. Even now, aware, he couldn’t change it.

Without parents, without love…

He was starved.

“What if I am?” Ye Zhiqiu’s smile was cold. “Can you give it to me?”

Qin Jianhe was silent.

They faced each other, breathing shallow.

“Are you with Qi Xin?” Qin Jianhe asked.

He had said, at the gym, that if he had a boyfriend, it wouldn’t be Qi Xin. But he had seen them in the car, close.

“I’m not.” Ye Zhiqiu was tired. “I…”

“I can.”

“What?”

Qin Jianhe leaned down. His lips touched the small mole on Ye Zhiqiu’s nose.

Ye Zhiqiu shivered.

His lips were hot.

Why there? Qi Xin had wanted it removed, called it a flaw.

“Ye Zhiqiu,” Qin Jianhe’s voice was low, intimate. “You want a bedmate, don’t you?”

He was close, his voice calm, but there was something else there.

“Found one yet?”