He Said It Was Just a Visit… Then Stayed All Night

Ye Zhiqiu melted into Qin Jianhe’s embrace, kissed until he was dizzy.

The other man would occasionally tease him into standing on his tiptoes, then laugh softly at his instinctive response.

“Hey!” The young man in his arms would get embarrassed and nip at his lips. Qin Jianhe would only lower his head, resting his forehead against his.

Ye Zhiqiu thought the gesture was too intimate, but he didn’t pull away like he had at the airport.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shop assistant sneak a glance, smiling, then look down and continue wiping the last few tables.

Ye Zhiqiu: “…”

For once, his skin felt thin. He stepped on Qin Jianhe’s foot.

The white limited edition sneakers were immediately marked with a thin layer of dust.

Qin Jianhe laughed softly, then looked up and politely thanked the assistant. Taking Ye Zhiqiu’s hand, he led him outside.

Coming in from the warm room, the cold air hit. Qin Jianhe stopped and tucked Ye Zhiqiu’s scarf more snugly around his neck.

“Why are you here?” Ye Zhiqiu finally had a chance to ask.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Qin Jianhe looked down at him, smiling faintly. “I came to give you your gift.”

Ye Zhiqiu: “…”

“Is the gift satisfactory?” Qin Jianhe asked again.

Afraid that if he kept talking, he wouldn’t be able to hide his smile, Ye Zhiqiu turned to leave. But the next moment, his hand was caught in a warm palm.

“Don’t go yet,” Qin Jianhe said.

“What?”

“Take a photo.”

It was the middle of the night. Ye Zhiqiu didn’t know why Qin Jianhe suddenly wanted a photo, but he leaned in.

“Why now?”

“I don’t have any with you,” Qin Jianhe said, unlocking his phone. “Last time, a friend wanted to see you. You wouldn’t send a photo.”

Ye Zhiqiu remembered. Before the photo with Zhang Qunqun, Qin Jianhe had asked him for a picture.

What had he said? He’d thought for a moment. He’d said he would send a nude.

Ye Zhiqiu: “…”

He touched his cheek, feeling ridiculous. Why was he so fixated on the word “nude” lately?

“Was that with your rumored girlfriend?” Ye Zhiqiu asked.

“Not my girlfriend. Primary school classmate.”

Qin Jianhe put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close.

Their reflections appeared on the screen.

Qin Jianhe had put on a black cashmere coat. He looked calmer. The streetlight glowed in his dark eyes, turning to liquid laughter. Ye Zhiqiu looked up, met his gaze in the camera, and smiled.

The camera clicked.

Behind them was the coffee shop’s sign, red lights flickering like flames around the word “ICE.”

“Huh?” Ye Zhiqiu made a small sound of surprise.

Qin Jianhe seemed to understand immediately. “Their iced coffee is good,” he said, holding Ye Zhiqiu’s cool hand. “But you shouldn’t try it.”

Ye Zhiqiu was always cold.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

After being locked out in the cold by Qi Xin in his past life, he’d lost his taste for cold things. He still ate ice cream sometimes, but only for the sweetness.

Still, if Qin Jianhe said the iced coffee was good, he was curious.

“Maybe in the summer,” he said, looking at the sign again.

Qin Jianhe’s smile deepened. He didn’t speak.

He unlocked his phone. “I’ll send you the photo.”

“Okay.”

Ye Zhiqiu took out his phone and saved the photo.

He’d given Qin Jianhe an ambiguous name in his contacts, so no one would notice a message from him. But photos were safe.

He was too cautious for facial recognition. Only a password or fingerprint would do.

“Are you hungry?” Qin Jianhe asked.

“A little.”

“I ate on the plane.”

He’d come straight to the hotel, wanting to surprise him. It had been the right choice. Ye Zhiqiu hadn’t seemed upset. He’d been happy.

Qin Jianhe put Ye Zhiqiu’s hand in his pocket. “Back to the hotel?”

“Where are you staying?”

“Your room,” Qin Jianhe said, expressionless. “Didn’t you want a handsome naked man in your bed?”

Ye Zhiqiu smiled, looking away.

They walked hand in hand, Qin Jianhe shielding him from the cold.

“I can’t. The whole floor is colleagues. I don’t want to be accused of sleeping my way up.”

“Your work isn’t enough?” Qin Jianhe asked. “You’re talented and handsome.”

Ye Zhiqiu laughed.

He touched Ye Zhiqiu’s cheek. It was cold.

“The room next to yours is empty,” he said. “It was reserved.”

“You’re staying on our floor?”

That meant Qin Jianhe had planned this.

It was unlike him. He rarely appeared in public. That’s why there were no clear photos of him.

But now…

As president of Q.L., if he came, he’d have to show himself at the show. Why change his habits? Why come here, where the cameras were?

For him?

Ye Zhiqiu felt confused, then decided he was overthinking.

Qin Jianhe was young, with strong needs. Maybe he just wanted…

He nodded.

“What are you thinking?”

“That your needs are very strong.”

Qin Jianhe’s laugh was low. “Mm.”

The sound made Ye Zhiqiu’s ears tingle.

The hotel was in sight. He stepped away.

“Come quietly. Go quietly.”

“Okay.”

He backed away. “I’ll go first.”

He turned, hurrying inside.

Qin Jianhe watched him go, then smiled.

* * * *

The room was quiet, only their breath.

Qin Jianhe seemed to love kissing. Even undressed, he just held him.

Sometimes he’d touch the small mole on Ye Zhiqiu’s nose, as if it fascinated him.

After years of deprivation, these small gestures made Ye Zhiqiu feel a strange attachment.

“Ye Zhiqiu.” His voice was rough. Ye Zhiqiu shivered.

But he said nothing else, only held him tighter.

Ye Zhiqiu handed him the bottle. “You expect me to do it myself?”

“You’ve been working hard. I won’t exhaust you.”

Ye Zhiqiu’s face went cold.

Even cold, he was beautiful. His flushed cheeks and wet lashes made the coldness seem a contradiction.

“Then go to your own room.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“You know what this is.”

He nudged him with his knee. “And you want it too.”

It was just desire. Qin Jianhe could control it. He looked at Ye Zhiqiu, watching for weakness.

“If we don’t, I won’t feel safe.”

He’d learned his lesson. He wouldn’t fall again.

“Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

Qin Jianhe’s breath caught. Ye Zhiqiu almost bit his lip.

“Uncomfortable?”

“No.”

He gave in.

* * * *

Ye Zhiqiu leaned against the headboard, smoking.

“You’re a dog.”

Qin Jianhe had been gentle at first, then fierce.

Ye Zhiqiu’s back ached.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t feel safe if I was too gentle.”

Qin Jianhe took the cigarette.

“Want a photo?”

He’d neglected Jiang Nan lately. He took Qin Jianhe’s hand, lacing their fingers.

Click.

Their hands were on the blanket.

He could send it. It would hurt Jiang Nan.

But he didn’t want to.

“It’s late. Sleep.”

“Mm.”

He found a comfortable spot on Qin Jianhe’s chest and closed his eyes.

A hand held his back, pulling him close.

* * * *

The next show was at three, back at Lincoln Center.

He slept well, not even setting an alarm.

When he woke, it was eleven. The other side of the bed was empty.

Qin Jianhe had come and gone quietly.

He stretched. His back ached.

He checked his messages, then saw one from Qin Jianhe.

[QIN: Text me when you’re up. I’ll take you to eat.]

He was tired of the food here.

[One Leaf Knows Autumn: I don’t want anything.]

[QIN: Chinese food. Meet at the coffee shop.]

He got dressed quickly.

* * * *

In the hallway, Meng Da saw him.

“Teacher Meng? You’re not at the show?”

“The boss is here.”

Qin Jianhe had never come before. He didn’t like the noise. He was busy.

This was a first.

“He came last night,” Meng Da said. He sighed. “Go eat. Busy afternoon.”

He’d wanted to talk to Ye Zhiqiu, but held back.

That morning, Qin Jianhe had met with the designers. He’d told Meng Da not to wake Ye Zhiqiu.

Most would see it as consideration.

But Meng Da thought Qin Jianhe just didn’t like him.

He sighed again.

Ye Zhiqiu walked through the alley.

Qin Jianhe’s car was waiting. He got in.

“Sore?” Qin Jianhe asked.

He remembered last night.

He leaned against Qin Jianhe.

“What do you want? Stir-fry or hot pot?”

“Hot pot.”

“Plain broth.”

“Fine.”

Qin Jianhe kissed him.

“I can’t handle you alone. I’ll find you someone else.”

Qin Jianhe bit him.

“Practice. Then you’ll manage.”

The car stopped. The driver didn’t make a sound.

When the doors opened, he sighed in relief.

His phone rang. Zhou Tongxin.

“When is he coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

“He left everything to me. It’s midnight. I can’t leave.”

Wei Jie laughed.

He was Qin Jianhe’s personal assistant, the envy of the office. Easy work for good pay.

Now, Qin Jianhe had a personal life.

First, clothes. All sizes, from head to toe, inside and out. Then, an apartment nearby.

Not big, not small, not old. Luxurious, about a hundred square meters.

It wasn’t for anyone important, but it seemed like it was for an angel.

He bought two, fully furnished. They were for rent. Anyone interested had to be reported.

Then, the workaholic left. The whole office was shocked.

Now, Wei Jie understood.

He looked toward the restaurant.

He’d heard Ye Zhiqiu’s voice, like a kitten with claws. Not clear, but he could tell it wasn’t praise. And Qin Jianhe’s low, indulgent laugh.

“Be prepared for him to be gone for a while,” he said.

Zhou Tongxin was silent.