Out of Control

Gu Hanzhou’s flight was delayed.

When Lin Xingmian received the news, he was sitting on the apartment sofa, facing three uninvited men.

Ji Beichen sat cross-legged on the rug playing a video game, his mouth dangling a third lollipop.

Shen Moting sat on the single-seater sofa with his laptop spread open before him, his Bluetooth headset flashing a blue light—he had just argued with a business partner ten minutes ago, and the lingering hostility hadn’t completely dissipated from his face yet.

Fu Xici had taken a leave of absence from his stream room, using the excuse “gas leak at home.”

The bullet comments were all spamming “your house has been leaking gas for three days,” but he turned off his camera without changing his expression and headed straight to Emerald Lake Bay.

Four people, one afternoon.

The table was piled with takeout boxes and milk tea cups, while a variety show no one watched played on the television.

Lin Xingmian leaned against the corner of the sofa with a book spread open on his lap, having turned only two pages in half an hour.

He was thinking about Gu Hanzhou.

He had looked at that text message “Wait for me to return, do not leave with him, I beg you” more than once.

Every time he reached the final words, his chest felt stifled.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable sort of stifling, but a foreign feeling of being deeply cared for by someone—it was too heavy, so heavy that he did not know how to accept it.

Ji Beichen raised his head from the game: “What are you dazing out for?”

“Nothing.”

“Thinking about that guy named Gu again?”

Lin Xingmian did not speak.

His silence was the answer.

Ji Beichen tossed the game controller away: “What is there to think about him? Keeping a cold face all day, speaking as if he is issuing orders. Do you like being ordered around?”

Lin Xingmian still did not speak.

He was also thinking about this question.

Why exactly did he remain here at Gu Hanzhou’s place?

Because he had nowhere else to go? Because the rules he set left him no opportunity to leave? Or was it because of something else, something he could not state clearly?

The doorbell rang.

Four people raised their heads simultaneously.

Ji Beichen frowned, Shen Moting closed his laptop, and Fu Xici pressed pause.

Lin Xingmian stood up and walked toward the entrance, his heartbeat turning a bit fast.

Was Gu Hanzhou back ahead of schedule?

Opening the door, the person standing outside wasn’t Gu Hanzhou.

It was Lu Shiyan and Rong Du, standing side by side at the doorway.

Lu Shiyan wore casual clothes, carrying an insulated bag in his hand with a gentle smile: “I came to deliver medicine.”

Rong Du wore a dark gray trench coat, carrying a bag of fruit in his hand with a flat tone: “I came to see Xingxing.”

Two people arriving at the same time.

Standing at the doorway at the same time.

Looking at Lin Xingmian at the same time.

Ji Beichen poked his head out from the living room, and when he saw the lineup of the two people at the door, the lollipop in his mouth almost dropped to the ground: “What is the situation? How did you two come together?”

“We ran into each other downstairs,” Lu Shiyan smiled, his tone as if saying the weather today was quite nice.

“Mr. Rong parked his car right next to mine.”

“Coincidence,” Rong Du said.

One word, neither more nor less.

They exchanged a glance at the entrance.

Lu Shiyan’s lenses reflected light, making his gaze impossible to see clearly, while Rong Du’s expression remained completely unmoving.

The air stayed quiet for about two seconds before Lin Xingmian took a step backward: “Come in.”

Now six people sat in the living room.

Lin Xingmian’s apartment had never been this full before.

Lu Shiyan sat on the armrest of the sofa, placing the insulated bag on the coffee table as he pulled things out from inside one by one.

Traditional medicine packs, Western medicine boxes, inhalers, and finally a small jar of stewed pear with tendrilleaved fritillary bulb—he said autumn dryness harmed the lungs, so he stewed it with his own hands for three hours.

Ji Beichen rolled his eyes beside him: “Stewed pear, why don’t you knit a sweater for him instead.”

Lu Shiyan ignored him.

Rong Du sat by the dining table, separated by a distance from the living room area.

He did not seem to care about the activity in the sofa area, merely peeling an apple quietly.

The blade advanced along the fruit skin, and the red skin dropped down ring by ring, uniform in thickness, never breaking from beginning to end.

Lin Xingmian watched that apple-peeling motion from across half the living room, always feeling that that hand wasn’t peeling fruit, but possessed a stability polished from flipping through case files in court year after year.

Shen Moting was still handling work, the sound of his keyboard never stopping.

Fu Xici continued playing his game, wearing his headset over only one ear.

Ji Beichen lay prone on the rug scrolling through his phone, and when he saw a trending topic on Weibo, he raised his head to read it aloud: “Ji Beichen left midway during a variety show escape room recording, suspected of acting like a big shot. The comments below say you came to see your girlfriend. Hilarious, where would you get a girlfriend from?”

He turned his head to look at Lin Xingmian: “Do you have one?”

Lin Xingmian ignored him.

On the surface, everything looked normal.

Someone was working, someone was playing a game, someone was peeling an apple, and someone was scrolling through a phone.

But Lin Xingmian felt it.

Every single person was watching him.

Lu Shiyan used his peripheral vision, Shen Moting raised his eyes from the edge of his laptop screen, Fu Xici glanced over during the game loading interval, and though Rong Du did not look at him—the first piece of the peeled apple was delivered right before him.

“Taste it,” Rong Du said.

The apple was very sweet, but when Lin Xingmian bit into it, his back turned numb.

Five gazes rested on his mouth simultaneously, as if what he was eating wasn’t an apple but some incredible thing.

Ji Beichen could not take it anymore.

He flipped over to sit up, slapping his phone onto the coffee table with a smack.

“Fine, stop pretending. Why are we all just sitting here doing nothing? Holding a meeting?” He looked around in a circle.

“Since everyone is here, then speak clearly.”

Shen Moting closed his laptop.

Fu Xici took off his other headset.

Lu Shiyan set down the medicine box in his hand.

Rong Du placed the peeled apple on the plate and wiped his hands.

“Speak about what?” Lu Shiyan asked.

“Speak about us,” Ji Beichen pointed to himself, then pointed toward the others.

“You, me, Shen Moting, Fu Xici, that guy named Gu, and him—” He pointed toward Rong Du.

“—What exactly is going on. Xingxing is caught in the middle, have any of you asked what he feels? Every single person is treating him well, but have you asked which type of well he wants?”

“Ji Beichen,” Shen Moting frowned.

“Did I speak wrongly? You smash him with a black card, Lu Shiyan controls him with a medical record, Fu Xici cues him in front of five million fans in his stream room, and the moment Rong Du returns, he says he wants to take him abroad. Every single one of us is demanding things, who has asked if he can afford to give it?”

It turned quiet.

Fu Xici’s game character died, the revival countdown ticking on the screen, and no one spoke.

Then Lu Shiyan opened his mouth: “You speak correctly,” he said, his voice calm.

“But Ji Beichen, when you stuffed the key into his hand, did you ask if he wanted it or not?”

Ji Beichen turned mute for an instant.

“You say we are demanding things,” Lu Shiyan continued.

“You are demanding things too. We all are. The only difference is the method, no one is any cleaner than the other.”

Fu Xici set down his game controller: “So what? I just like him. From the first year of high school until now, I have liked him all along. I do not have that many twists and turns, nor can I stew pears, handle investments, or act as a lawyer. I only know how to play games, but I can accompany him to stay up late. Can you guys do that?”

“Staying up late increases the risk of asthma,” Lu Shiyan said.

“Don’t use your set of medical theories to pressure me—”

“Enough.”

Shen Moting’s voice wasn’t large, but everyone turned quiet.

He stood up, leaning by the window, his silhouette against the light appearing exceptionally cold and sharp.

“We are gathered here today not to argue, nor to discuss who likes more or who invests less. Those lack meaning.” He turned around to look at everyone.

“What has meaning is who Xingxing chooses.”

Five gazes looked toward Lin Xingmian simultaneously.

He sat in the corner of the sofa, the piece of apple peeled by Rong Du still held in his hand.

The cut surface of the apple had already begun to oxidize and turn yellow.

“I…” He opened his mouth.

His mind was very chaotic.

Every single person was saying they liked him, and every single person felt his own liking was the most special.

Lu Shiyan felt his medicine could be replaced by no one, Ji Beichen felt his companionship was unique, Shen Moting felt his resources were indispensable, Fu Xici felt his sincerity was the most open, and Rong Du felt he had waited the longest.

Gu Hanzhou wasn’t present, but Gu Hanzhou’s shadow pressed upon everyone’s heart.

Every single one of them was using his own method to say: Choose me, I am the most worthwhile.

But no one asked him: Are you tired?

Lin Xingmian placed the apple on the table and stood up: “I am going to the washroom.”

He walked very stably.

But after entering the washroom and closing the door, he supported himself against the sink, looking at himself in the mirror.

His face looked pale, his lips a bit dry, and a sleep-deprived grayish-blue color lingered beneath his eyes.

These people, every single one was treating him well, but their well-treatment all carried expectations.

Whose key he accepted made that person feel he had won. Whose medicine he ate made that person feel he was chosen. Whosoever’s stream room he stayed in a bit longer made that person feel he was partial.

He had never felt himself this tired before.

The doorbell rang again.

Lin Xingmian came out of the washroom, seeing that everyone was looking toward the door.

“Takeout?” Fu Xici asked.

“I did not order any,” Ji Beichen said.

Rong Du stood up, walked toward the door, and took a look through the peephole.

Then he turned around, a subtle change appearing in his expression—it wasn’t nervousness, but a realization of “what was meant to come has finally arrived.”

“It is Gu Hanzhou. He is back.”

The instant the door opened, cold air rushed inside.

Gu Hanzhou stood at the doorway, his black overcoat still carrying the creases of travel.

He looked as if he had rushed back directly from the airport, bloodshot lines existing in his eyes, and his lips pursing into a line.

He saw the room full of people—Lu Shiyan, Ji Beichen, Shen Moting, Fu Xici, Rong Du, not a single one missing.

His gaze lingered on Rong Du for an extra second.

“President Gu,” Rong Du’s voice could not betray any emotion.

“The M&A negotiation is finished?”

“You did the due diligence,” Gu Hanzhou said.

“What is there to negotiate.”

He walked inside, the hem of his overcoat bringing a gust of cold wind.

He did not switch shoes, walking directly into the center of the living room.

Everyone was watching him—some with wariness, some with scrutiny, and some expressionless.

He merely swept a glance over the items on the coffee table: traditional medicine packs, pear soup, PS5, Shen Moting’s laptop, and the peeled apple.

Then he performed an action no one had anticipated.

He unwrapped his scarf, turned around, and wrapped the scarf around Lin Xingmian’s neck.

The motion wasn’t fast, even matching the description of gentle.

But that scarf carried his body temperature along with a faint cedar fragrance, instantly wrapping Lin Xingmian’s entire being into his scent.

“Cold?” he asked.

Lin Xingmian shook his head.

Gu Hanzhou let out an ‘en,’ then turned around to face the others: “While I was away, everyone has treated my home as a meeting room.”

Ji Beichen wanted to say something but was suppressed by a glance from Shen Moting.

“Mr. Gu,” Lu Shiyan stood up.

“We came to see Xingxing. With him home alone, we could not rest easy.”

“He isn’t alone,” Gu Hanzhou said.

“He is together with me.”

“You weren’t here.”

“I am here now.”

Very short sentences, but every single person present heard the underlying meaning.

Gu Hanzhou did not lose his temper, nor did he drive people out.

He took off his overcoat to drape it over the back of the sofa, rolled up his shirt sleeves, walked toward the open kitchen, and opened the fridge to pull out a few bottles of water.

He handed a bottle to everyone, not leaving out a single one.

When handing it before Rong Du, the two exchanged a glance.

One cold, one stable, two entirely different auras clashing for an instant in the air.

“Regarding the M&A case, thanks,” Gu Hanzhou said.

“No need. Purely business,” Rong Du accepted the water.

A strange unspoken understanding actually existed between them now.

Watching this scene, Lin Xingmian suddenly felt it was a bit unreal.

These two men were the most overbearing among everyone, yet they were the most peaceful between each other instead.

Gu Hanzhou turned toward Lin Xingmian: “Come with me for a moment.”

“Hey—” Ji Beichen stood up.

“What I spoke was ‘for a moment,’ not ‘leave with me,'” Gu Hanzhou’s tone lacked fluctuations.

“Two minutes. You can drink water first, the remote control is beneath the coffee table, tune to whatever you want to watch by yourselves.”

He pulled Lin Xingmian’s sleeve into the study and closed the door.

The main light in the study wasn’t switched on, only the desk lamp on the table was lit.

Gu Hanzhou leaned against the door looking at Lin Xingmian, the two standing face-to-face in the narrow space, the distance close enough to hear each other’s breathing.

“Did he touch you?” Gu Hanzhou asked.

“No.”

“What about the others?”

“None either.”

Gu Hanzhou fell silent for a few seconds, then raised his hand.

His fingers rested on Lin Xingmian’s chin with a very light force, tilting his face up slightly.

The exact same action as those few times before, but this time his fingers felt a bit cool—having just returned from outside, his fingertips still carried the chill of the night.

“I regretted that text message the moment I sent it,” he said.

“Those words ‘I beg you’?”

“En,” Gu Hanzhou’s voice was lowered very deep, deep to the point of sounding as if speaking to himself.

“I should not have spoken the word ‘beg.’ That sounds like kidnapping you emotionally.”

Lin Xingmian looked at him.

From this angle, he could see the bloodshot lines in the depths of Gu Hanzhou’s eyes and the shadow cast by his eyelashes.

He recalled this person flying back from New York overnight, sitting on a plane for over a dozen hours, and rushing straight here after stepping off the plane. Whether the M&A case was signed or not hadn’t been brought up by him, dropping a nine-figure project just like that.

And the first thing he did upon rushing back wasn’t driving people out, but wrapping a scarf around him.

Lin Xingmian stretched out his hand, pulling at Gu Hanzhou’s sleeve.

Merely two fingers pinching the edge of the shirt cuff, a very light action, light to the point of being negligible, but this was the first time he took the initiative to touch Gu Hanzhou.

Gu Hanzhou’s breathing skipped a beat.

“There are still five people outside,” Lin Xingmian said.

“You cannot stay shut inside for too long.”

“I know,” Gu Hanzhou did not move.

He lowered his head to look at Lin Xingmian’s fingers pulling his cuff, looking for two seconds, then covered it with his other hand, squeezing gently.

“Long enough. Go out.”

When the study door opened again, the gazes of the five people in the living room swept over in unison.

Ji Beichen’s gaze swept back and forth across Lin Xingmian’s face twice, only retracting it after confirming nothing was abnormal.

Lu Shiyan noticed Lin Xingmian’s cuff looked a bit wrinkled—the trace of being gripped by fingers.

Rong Du harbored no expression at all, merely pushing the peeled apple toward Lin Xingmian’s direction once more.

Fu Xici broke the quiet: “So what do we do now? You live alone, do we take turns to accompany you?”

He looked toward Gu Hanzhou.

“No need,” Gu Hanzhou walked to the center of the living room.

“In the future, if you want to come, you can state it ahead of time. You can come when I am away, and you can also come when I am present. The entry password can be told to you.”

Everyone froze, including Lin Xingmian.

“The condition is—ring the doorbell before you enter. He is not the private property of any of you. You like him and treat him well, fine. Give him space. Give him choices. Do not make him unable to catch his breath.”

He swept a glance across everyone present: “Stay if you can do it. Leave right now if you cannot.”

No one left.

Ji Beichen reacted earliest.

He looked at Gu Hanzhou with a complex expression—defiance, surprise, and an unstatable type of displeasure.

But it wasn’t the type of displeasure that made one want to hit someone, but the type of displeasure of “you did what I did not dare to do.”

“On what basis do you set the rules?” he asked, but his tone wasn’t that aggressive anymore.

“On the basis that he currently lives here with me,” Gu Hanzhou said.

“When he doesn’t live here in the future, the rules will be set by the next one.”

The corner of Rong Du’s mouth curved slightly, the amplitude very small, but Lin Xingmian saw it.

He stood up, picking up his trench coat to drape over his arm: “I am leaving first. The law firm still has a transoceanic meeting.”

He walked before Lin Xingmian: “Goodnight.”

No extra reminders, no head pats, and no face touches.

Then he turned toward Gu Hanzhou: “You are correct. He needs space.”

The two exchanged a glance for a second, and Gu Hanzhou nodded his head.

Rong Du left.

Lu Shiyan was the second to leave.

He organized the medicine boxes neatly on the coffee table, explaining the dosage and timing for each medicine.

Having finished speaking, he stood up to look at Lin Xingmian, hesitating for a brief moment before saying only one sentence: “If you feel chest tightness, call me at any time.”

Then he left.

Shen Moting closed his laptop and stood up.

He did not speak words of farewell, merely looking back at Lin Xingmian while switching shoes at the entrance: “I tore up that gambling agreement. Not because of giving up, but because I do not want to use this type of method.”

The door closed.

Fu Xici was the last to leave.

He packed away his game controller, slung on his bag, and suddenly turned around upon reaching the door: “Are you coming to the stream tomorrow or not? If you do not come, I will really read out your ID.”

Lin Xingmian smiled at last: “Coming.”

Ji Beichen still lingered on the rug, receiving a glance from Gu Hanzhou.

He curled his lips and stood up, walking before Lin Xingmian to stuff the lollipop in his hand to him—strawberry-flavored, the same as last time.

“Tomorrow is the second phase of the escape room, I have saved a spot for you.”

“You are sneaking out again?”

“How else do I see you if I do not sneak out?” He grinned, then leaned close to Lin Xingmian’s ear to lower his voice.

“What did that guy named Gu say to you in the study just now? Did he threaten you? Blink your eyes once and I will take you away immediately.”

“He did not threaten me,” Lin Xingmian said.

Ji Beichen looked at him half-believingly for a while, looked at Gu Hanzhou again, and finally left after all.

The door closed, and the apartment turned quiet at last.

On the coffee table sat six water cups, five portions of unfinished food, a PS5 controller, and the medicine boxes left behind by Lu Shiyan.

The air was mixed with the scents of different people, but it was dissipating bit by bit.

Gu Hanzhou stood on the spot looking very exhausted.

Overnight flight, jet lag, a room full of love rivals; he had spoken the words that should be spoken and established the rules that should be established.

Now it was quiet.

“You said just now when I no longer live here, the rules will be set by the next one,” Lin Xingmian asked.

“Do you feel I will leave sooner or later?”

“Not feel,” Gu Hanzhou said.

“It is that you have the right to leave. Rong Du came to find you today, and you said you did not leave with him, I saw the surveillance. But I want you to know—if you decide to leave one day, I will not stop you. When I brought you out from the Lin family at the very beginning and treated you well, I never asked if you were willing.”

He paused, those words spoken lighter than in the text message this time, yet more real.

“I should have apologized to you at an even earlier time.”

The living room was very quiet.

The low hum of the city outside drifted in faintly, and the elevator stopped at a certain floor, emitting a slight chiming sound.

Lin Xingmian stood on the spot, his fingers still clutching that strawberry-flavored lollipop Ji Beichen had stuffed to him.

He looked at Gu Hanzhou.

This person flew back overnight, rushing back directly from the airport without playing the victim, without interrogation, and without saying “how much I have done for you.”

He gave everyone a bottle of water.

He laid out the rules, not for monopolization, but to give him space.

Lin Xingmian walked over, standing before Gu Hanzhou.

The height difference between the two made him need to tilt his head up slightly.

He reached out to pull Gu Hanzhou’s cuff—the exact same action as in the study.

Then he leaned his head against his chest, very lightly, like a test.

Gu Hanzhou’s body stiffened for an instant.

Then his hand raised up, resting on Lin Xingmian’s back, not tightening, but just leaving it there.

Across the shirt, body temperature transmitted over bit by bit.

This was the first time Lin Xingmian took the initiative to approach a person.

Not forced to accept, not being pulled apart, and not being tugged back and forth by anyone; it was he himself taking a step forward.

He closed his eyes, smelling the scent of cedar mixed with the cabin air conditioning.

It wasn’t pleasant, but he did not dislike it.

On the coffee table, the phone screen lit up.

In the group chat, Ji Beichen sent a message: [If that guy named Gu dares to bully Xingxing, I am going back right now.]

Lu Shiyan replied with a message: [+1.]

Shen Moting replied with a message: [He dares not.]

Fu Xici sent an emoji—a cat holding a knife.

Rong Du did not speak in the group, but he sent a message to Gu Hanzhou individually: “I have already instructed my assistant to send the M&A contract to your email. Sign it or not as you please. The prerequisite is, treat him well.”

Gu Hanzhou’s phone vibrated once, but he did not go look at it.

He merely lowered his head, resting his chin against the crown of Lin Xingmian’s head, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

“I am going to shower,” he said.

“Help me look over the email.”

“What email?”

“The M&A contract. That meeting gift sent by your cousin.” He released his hand, taking two steps toward the bathroom before turning back.

“Do not eat too many strawberry-flavored candies. It is bad for your teeth.”

The bathroom door closed, and the sound of water rushed.

Lin Xingmian sat on the sofa, looking at that lollipop on the coffee table, unwrapping the paper, and placing it into his mouth.

The strawberry flavor melted across the tip of his tongue.

Very sweet.

This room full of people, every single one left a person less easy to rest than the other.

But he thought, perhaps not letting a person rest easy didn’t matter either.