The masked man finally loosened his grip. With a flick of his hand, he tossed the cigar onto the table and abandoned it there.
Lin Juefei curled forward, taking several rapid breaths before he could breathe normally again.
He immediately dropped to one knee at He Zhuokun’s feet, clasping both hands behind the man’s knee and bowing his head extremely low.
“Mr. He, are you tired? Or… did I do something wrong?” he asked softly in Cantonese.
Normally, Lin Juefei never questioned any order or arrangement He Zhuokun made. Recently, however, selfish motives and several other factors had led him to do things he should not have done, to place people where they did not belong. He had acted too much on impulse.
He Zhuokun had not been on Hong Kong Island at the time. Either he could not control Lin Juefei from afar, or he had chosen not to. By the time someone whispered the matter into his ear, Lin Juefei had nearly completed everything.
Lin Juefei was asking a question whose answer he already knew. He understood that He Zhuokun’s punishment would come sooner or later. Every step had been dangerous, but every one remained within his plan.
What he needed now was to steady He Zhuokun as much as possible—to cool his anger and soften his heart. Then Lin Juefei could wait for the right moment and reap far more than the ordinary spoils of a bystander, proving to He Zhuokun that his loyalty was irreplaceable.
Lin Juefei lowered his brows obediently and looked up at He Zhuokun with pleading eyes.
He Zhuokun raised a foot and kicked him in the chest.
Lin Juefei had no time even to grunt. He stumbled, then crawled back to He Zhuokun’s feet and called urgently, “Mr. He. Boss…”
He Zhuokun looked down at him, his face dark. “You know perfectly well what you’ve been doing lately.”
Suppressing his fury, he warned Lin Juefei one deliberate word at a time. “Things haven’t reached the worst point yet, so I won’t pursue it. If you truly cross the line one day, you know what will happen.”
Lin Juefei nodded sheepishly, his eyes utterly earnest. “I’ll obey you, Boss.”
“It is only because Boss favors me that Ah Fei is permitted to work at his side. I will serve you with all my heart.”
A moment later, Lin Juefei wiped away his tears and took the opportunity to sit beside He Zhuokun. He whispered into the man’s ear, “Mr. He, I’ve arranged everything for the night races at Dongxing Racecourse. Peerless Stallion is certain to win.”
He paused and cautiously tugged He Zhuokun’s sleeve. “Please do me the honor of letting me accompany you and help you relax. Let me make amends for what I did, all right?”
He Zhuokun said nothing. He rose, slid both hands into his pockets, and gave Lin Juefei a condescending glance before striding out of the private room.
“Don’t embarrass me.”
Lin Juefei’s lips curved. Unable to conceal his delight, he hurried after him.
When the night races at Happy Valley ended, He Zhuokun had barely appeared with Lin Juefei before they drew countless sidelong looks.
The bolder spectators murmured in the back rows, “He’s worn that mask for years. What does his face actually look like?”
Those who knew the full story did not dare answer. Those who did not would never have a way to learn.
*
A repairman soon arrived to fix the water heater in the side wing. While there, he inspected and replaced every other piece of equipment in the room as well.
When Ji Qian’ang returned to look around, he found that a dehumidifier had inexplicably appeared in the bedroom too. He went to ask Lin Shanbai, who said it was a routine upgrade for the old residence.
On Monday morning, Ji Qian’ang sat on the sitting-room sofa as usual and waited.
Tang Yu came downstairs, slung his schoolbag over one shoulder, and walked straight through the entrance hall toward the garage. He did not spare Ji Qian’ang so much as a glance.
Ji Qian’ang raised a brow and followed in several strides. He had just opened the opposite door and settled into the car when Tang Yu said, “Sit in front.”
Ji Qian’ang did not move.
Tang Yu turned toward him, brows faintly drawn. His voice was harder this time. “I said sit in front. Can’t you hear?”
Uncle Chen gripped the steering wheel and studied them through the rearview mirror, tactfully remaining silent.
Ji Qian’ang gave in and moved to the passenger seat. He had no idea what he had done wrong to anger the young master again.
No one spoke for the entire journey.
Tang Yu absorbed nothing in his morning classes. He stared at the formulas on the board while his mind replayed the night of the family dinner.
Ji Qian’ang had seen him at his most wretched, stopped him from hurting himself, and turned Tang Yu’s provocation back on him until his legs went weak. He had even carried Tang Yu away and bandaged him.
Before leaving, Ji Qian’ang had brought him a bowl of soup, making Tang Yu feel like some pitiable stray cat accepting food from a stranger.
Tang Yu closed his eyes, wishing he could tear the memory out by its roots.
He was the Tang family’s young master. He should never reveal weakness in front of a mere companion.
Tian Qianxing, long accustomed to this pattern, poked Tang Yu in the back. “Did you two fight again? Why are you ignoring him?”
Tang Yu turned a page. “A young master has no need to acknowledge his companion.”
Tian Qianxing had no response.
When the final class of the afternoon ended, Tang Yu packed his bag and prepared to leave. Ji Qian’ang normally waited for him. Today, Tang Yu made the first move, abandoning his companion without a word.
He had barely stepped outside the school gates when he saw Lin Juefei beneath a bauhinia tree nearby, a paper bag in one hand.
“Xiao Yu,” Lin Juefei called.
Tang Yu quickly went over. “Brother Juefei? Why are you here?”
Lin Juefei smiled faintly. “I was passing by. It’s been a long time since I picked you up from school.”
As his gaze shifted, Tang Yu noticed a bandage near Lin Juefei’s collarbone. Over the weekend, Auntie Liu had told him that after Tang Yu left the family dinner, Lin Juefei took a phone call and departed, greatly displeasing Grandmother. Tang Yu had needed to invent one method after another to coax her back into a good mood.
He had no idea where Lin Juefei had gone that weekend.
“Brother Juefei.” Tang Yu pointed at his own collarbone and looked toward Lin Juefei’s neck. “What happened there?”
A strange expression flickered across Lin Juefei’s face and vanished. “Oh, I hurt it by accident. It’s nothing.”
Tang Yu nodded and asked no more.
As he followed Lin Juefei toward the car, Tang Yu instinctively glanced behind him. Ji Qian’ang stood inside the school gates holding both their bags, staring directly at them.
Tang Yu looked away and got into Lin Juefei’s car.
“Is Qian’ang not coming?” Lin Juefei asked.
Tang Yu offered a careless excuse. “He has something to do.”
Lin Juefei did not ask again. He entered the car, and it pulled away from the school into the traffic.
Lin Juefei took a gift box from the paper bag and held it out. “I brought this for you.”
Tang Yu accepted it, examined it from several angles, and opened it to find a tin of powdered milk.
“I brought it back from New Zealand. They say it’s all natural and good for growing.” Lin Juefei smiled. “Grandmother makes you drink milk every day. Aren’t you tired of it?”
“Try a different flavor.”
Since the age of twelve, Tang Yu had drunk a glass of milk every morning and evening without exception.
When Auntie Liu brought it, she said Grandmother had made it a rule. Grandmother’s exact words were that Xiao Yu needed plenty of milk if he wanted to grow tall.
Tang Yu had drunk it for five years. His height had fallen from the middle of his age group to the lower end. Now, standing beside Ji Qian’ang, he was an entire head shorter.
Still, Tang Yu found Lin Juefei considerate. “Thank you, Brother Juefei.”
He closed the box, privately depressed that his height had not developed in the direction it ought to have.
Lin Juefei turned and examined him carefully. “You seem taller than the last time I saw you.”
Tang Yu rejected the idea at once. “I’m not.”
“Aren’t you?” Lin Juefei’s tone held lighthearted teasing as his slender fingers settled on Tang Yu’s shoulder. “I remember you only reaching my shoulder before. Now you’re nearly at my ear.”
Tang Yu tugged at the corner of his mouth and said nothing. He did not want to discuss anything related to his height. Since he turned fourteen, it had become a standard topic at the dinner table.
“Why isn’t Xiao Yu getting taller?”
“Is he a picky eater?”
“At his age, his brother was already a hundred and seventy-eight centimeters.”
Tang Yu always answered with silence.
What else could he say? That he drank his milk, took calcium supplements, never skipped exercise, and that his body had done the best it could?
Lin Juefei changed the subject and drew Tang Yu’s attention back. “By the way, Qian’ang’s eye… is it getting better?”
Tang Yu replied indifferently, “I don’t know.”
Lin Juefei’s voice became grave. “He’s your companion. How could you not know? Xiao Yu, once an eye is ruined, it’s ruined for life.”
His solemnity pressed down like an invisible mountain, briefly leaving Tang Yu unable to breathe. It was true. Losing an eye was permanent. Ji Qian’ang had been at the Tang residence for less than a day when Tang Yu injured his eye. That was bad enough.
Tang Yu remained silent. Lin Juefei patted his shoulder. “Brother Juefei isn’t blaming you. I only want you to understand what this means.”
Tang Yu nodded, brooding over how he could ever completely repay this “debt.”
The cold war lasted three days. Tang Yu kept his lips sealed tighter than anyone, while Ji Qian’ang’s hard temper would never permit him to press his warmth against a cold face. Whenever their gazes accidentally met, both looked away with astonishing speed.
On Thursday morning, Ji Qian’ang walked into the classroom and every head turned. Once they saw him clearly, they froze.
While Tang Yu had not been paying attention, Ji Qian’ang had gone to the hospital and had the gauze removed from his left eye. In its place were silver-framed glasses with thin lenses, though the left lens was slightly thicker than the right.
The silver frames lent his stern face an aloof, restrained quality, making him look like a serious teaching assistant on a university campus.
Tian Qianxing sprawled across his desk and exclaimed into Luo Yueze’s ear, “Damn. How does he look like that after taking off the bandage?”
Luo Yueze scratched his head. “Like what?”
“Just… gorgeous.”
Luo Yueze looked up at Ji Qian’ang and could not help widening his eyes too.
Tang Yu had been asleep on his desk. The commotion woke him, and he raised his head, squinting toward the back door. Every trace of exhaustion vanished instantly.
Ji Qian’ang’s features had always been striking: deep-set eyes, a high bridge to his nose, and a clean, sharp jawline without a single flaw.
With the gauze covering his left eye, however, a sickly gloom had clung to him.
Now the bandage was gone. His entire cutting face was exposed, releasing all the force that had previously been hidden.
Only the iris of his left eye was half a shade lighter. Behind the silver-framed glasses, it resembled a piece of amber soaked in light.
This was only the second time Tang Yu had studied Ji Qian’ang’s face so intently. The longer he looked, the more dazed he became. Backlit in the doorway, that face overlapped with Tang Yifeng’s in his memory.