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Chi Cheng didn’t flinch as the couch sagged suddenly, the weight of another body tilting him in.
He wasn’t expecting him, exactly. But he wasn’t not expecting him, either—he was never not expecting Chengyu in a place like this, the lights of the club flashing across their faces, the smell of sweat and sex and alcohol in the air. He didn’t need to look to know the indent on the couch, the cadence of the breath next to him.
And he’d been half expecting to see Chengyu since he left the clinic. Two days ago now, give or take—three days more, then, assuming the doctor did his job properly, he could finally—he breathed in, thinking about it. About Wuo Suowei, and the quirk of his smile and the way he squirmed and protested but his body leaned in, said more—until it didn’t. Until he didn’t. Until he pulled away, and Chi Cheng couldn’t figure out why, what more he had to do…
He looked over. Chengyu’s face was lit by the flashing of the club lights, a cigarette in hand. He wondered what Chengyu would do now. Would he give up on the doctor, like he’d given up all his other boyfriends—that would cut out half the fun, but it wouldn’t solve Chi Cheng’s problems. Would he ratchet up the stakes, make it more fun? Or was this him delivering Jiang Xiaoshuai to him, another performance like all of Chengyu’s performances.
Chengyu brought the cigarette to his mouth, pursed his lips, inhaled, his eyes fluttered shut. If he felt Chi Cheng watching—and he knew that he did, because they always knew when the other was watching, because Chi Cheng could read it in the set of his shoulders; as perfect as Chengyu’s facade had become, Chi Cheng still knew him better—then he didn’t react to it. He blew out, and the smoke rolled over his lips.
“What?” Chi Cheng demanded, then cursed himself. He always broke first, with Chengyu. It was one of the most irritating things about Chengyu.
Chengyu didn’t answer, immediately. He looked out at the club, took another drag, let the smoke drift up. Threw his other arm over the back of the couch, so one hand rested behind Chi Cheng’s head—asserting his claim over space? Showing ease? Chi Cheng wasn’t sure.
“Not this one.”
Chi Cheng blinked. Chengyu was still looking out at the crowd, his body still sprawled, careless, but Chi Cheng could see the set of his shoulders, heard the finality in his voice, and knew he wasn’t careless, not at all.
Fine. Chi Cheng could play this game, if Chengyu had come to play. “The little doctor came running to you to save him, then?” he drawled,“I’d think someone as clever as him—who’s done such good research about me—he’d know the risks. Makes you wonder why he did it. Why he hooked you at all.”
Chengyu turned at that. Just his head, but—there was something Chi Cheng hadn’t seen in a long time, in it. Not for six years, maybe. More. That steel behind his calm little smirk, that thing that made Chi Cheng’s father wish for him as a son.
“He stays out of it,” Chengyu said, again, and it was a statement, not an ask, in a way that made Chi Cheng bristle. That made him, like he always did, want to push and shove, see how Chengyu would meet him. “You leave him out of it. I don’t care about the games you play with your boytoy, but you won’t touch Xiaoshuai.”
Chi Cheng’s eyebrows lifted. This was new. This was—he’d never done this, before. Not in all the long years of their war. Oh, he’d fought and bitched and moaned, his full Chengyu dramatics, but he’d never drawn this line. “What, do you actually care about this one?” Chi Cheng asked, “Finally, someone melted your heart?” In a way no one else had—not Wang Shuo, even. He’d never fought for him, despite everything. Just bowed out, let Chi Cheng yell and push and fight, and taken it all. “You realize that only makes me want him more.” He narrowed his eyes, watching. “You should have seen how he trembled. Like a scared little bird, and I could just…” He snapped his teeth.
Chengyu’s hand twitched behind Chi Cheng’s head. Not in arousal, not like Chi Cheng—that had never been Chengyu’s thing, even if Chi Cheng wasn’t entirely lying; the doctor was a pretty little thing, and he had quivered prettily, if not as prettily as Wuo Suowei, none of that pushy little edge that made Chi Cheng push and push and feel in his bones he wanted it, really. But something flashed across Chengyu’s face, something unfamiliar. It had shades of the determination, the cleverness that Chi Cheng knew—the parts of Chengyu he liked to hide under good cheer, but were as ruthless and driven as Chi Cheng—but that wasn’t it. Not all of it.
“I wonder if he’d shake like that if I grabbed him,” Chi Cheng went on, because how could he not, “Maybe he’d cry, once I started. Got my hands all over that cute little body, make it bruise. Does he cry for you? If you get him tied up—”
“He’s a good person,” Chengyu interrupted, and that flipped something hot and satisfied over in Chi Cheng. He loved it when he broke Chengyu. “He doesn’t deserve your games.”
“Our games,” Chi Cheng corrected, instinctual. But Chengyu’s face twisted, a sideways smile with no mirth in it.
“Our games,” he agreed. “He doesn’t deserve them. He didn’t ask to be wrapped up in this.”
“He was the one who got involved with Wuo Suowei.”
Chengyu waved a hand, dismissing that. “You don’t care about that,” he said, and it was true and Chi Cheng hated that it was true, that he was ready to forgive Wuo Suowei for that, that he didn’t care, that he’d do anything if Wuo Suowei would just trust him, that Chengyu knew him so well still.
He took a drag of his own cigarette, to push that away. “If he gets me Wuo Suowei by the deadline, then there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll leave him all to you. It’s only if he doesn’t make the deadline that he has to worry.”
“He doesn’t have to worry, because you won’t fuck him,” Chengyu said, and Chi Cheng turned back to him. He’d pulled back his arm, and he was smiling again, more collected, his mask on.
“If he doesn’t make the deadline—”
“You still won’t fuck him.”
“I won’t?”
“No.” Chengyu tipped his head back, blew the smoke up. “And I’ll give you three reasons.” Chi Cheng snorted. This should be good. Chengyu always did love to grandstand.
“First, he’s not your type.”
Chi Cheng tilted his head. “You don’t think he’s hot?” He’d seen Chengyu with the doctor, seen how he looked at him. Chengyu might think he was hard to read, and maybe he was, to some, but no one knew better than Chi Cheng what he looked like when he wanted someone. And the doctor was cute, in his way.
Chengyu glanced down at him, and there was a secret little smile on his face, a joke just for him. “I don’t think he’ll break as pretty as you think,” he said, and his hand touched his cheek, like it was unconscious.
Then he shook himself. “Second, if you do anything with Xiaoshuai, do you think Wuo Suowei would ever let you touch him again? Even if he’d forgive you for touching anyone else—which I’m not sure he would—Wuo Suowei loves his master more than anyone but his mother. Do you know what he did, when he heard of your threat? Came running to me to save his friend. I’ve never seen him so angry. And how much worse would it be if you did hurt Xiaoshuai?” Chi Cheng twitched at that. It was…Wuo Suowei’s anger was nothing to laugh at, and Chengyu was right, about how much he loved his friend. In ways that made Chi Cheng seethe, at times, because he wanted all of his Da Bao and there was still a part of him that was Xiaoshuai’s.
“And third?” He asked, trying to cover the flinch, though the quirk of Chengyu’s mouth made him think he’d seen it.
“Third…” Chengyu trailed off. Then he looked over, and met Chi Cheng’s gaze. His lips were still in that half-smile, but there was nothing smiling in his eyes.
There was just—Chengyu had never drawn this line before, over six years of Chi Cheng taking. Never drawn any line, not really, for all his schemes and rivalry. Never said no. And there was the dare, that Chi Cheng wasn’t entirely sure who would come out on top, if they really turned their minds to it, if Chi Cheng did cross a line Chengyu didn’t set just for him to break it.
And beneath it, the threat, the worst thing—that this might be the thing Chengyu didn’t forgive him for. That this would be the thing that made Chengyu leave.
Chi Cheng swallowed. Looked away.
“He hasn’t even been useful,” he muttered, “Other ways are better.”
Chengyu snorted, and the look broke, and the tension with it. “Oh, your little mouse will come to you,” he said, and that was his scheming face on. Chi Cheng, instinctively, trusted Chengyu’s scheming face, despite it all.
“You do it, and I’ll tell Jiang Xiaoshuai the deal’s off.”
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t ask that of you.” Chengyu’s grin turned mischievous. “You’ve played the wolf quite nicely.”
“And if he happens to run into the arms of the fox to protect him…” Chi Cheng completed, and Chengyu smirked, opened his arms wide.
“Who am I to turn him away? I will always protect my Xiaoshuai,” he agreed, and hopped to his feet. “Speaking of, I need to get back. Good talk,” he said, and nodded to Chi Cheng, turned towards the the door.
He’d gotten one pace away before it burst out of Chi Cheng. “Why him?” he demanded, and it cut through the noise of the club, through everything. Through his pounding heartbeat. “What’s so special about him?” Why this one, he didn’t say. Why are you acting like this for him.
Chengyu turned back. Smiled, and it was—wonder and joy and all the things he hid, so often, the softness that Chi Cheng had built walls around for so many years; a sort of awe that made Chi Cheng want to cover it up, protect it from anyone else here who could see it. He’d never looked like that before at anyone. Not at Wang Shuo, for sure. Not at Chi Cheng. “Have you ever met someone,” he said, and laughed a little, incredulous, “Who just—Everything that life throws at him, and he still—I’ve never met anyone as strong as him, who cares as much as him. Who deserves as much.” He shrugged, but not in his usual careless sort of way, something helpless in it instead. “How can I not give him as much as I can?”
Chi Cheng thought of Wuo Suowei, of his dreams and determination and the way he looked to the horizon, always more. Of all the ways Chi Cheng wanted to help him get there, wanted to be along for the ride.
He smiled too, unbidden, and for a moment, those smiles met.
Then in unison, they looked away.
“Good talk,” Chengyu muttered, then spun grandly on his heel and strode out the door. Back to his little doctor, Chi Cheng supposed. This man who got Chengyu to look like that, like he was young again.
He took a drag of his half-forgotten cigarette. He should be thinking of a new plan, he knew. A new way to drive Wuo Suowei into his arms.
But—he’ll come to you, Chengyu had promised. Chi Cheng could wait to see if his plan bore out.