RBNR Ch55: Is he your boyfriend?

The magazine shoot lasted until late afternoon. On the drive back to the studio, Qin Bao received a call from An Qingyan, who asked him, “Did you hear about Echo bringing on a new investor?”

Principal photography had wrapped long ago, and the film was currently in its final VFX stages; Qin Bao hadn’t paid attention to it for months.

“No, I haven’t. What happened?”

An Qingyan said, “I heard through the grapevine that Jingjing Pictures ran into serious trouble. Post-production on Echo ran out of cash and has been stalled for three or four months. A blockbuster of that scale can’t be left to rot, so bringing in fresh capital isn’t surprising. But I recall you had a bit of bad blood with the crown prince of Sufeng… You’d better check in with Sister Lü.”

Qin Bao: “Sufeng? It’s them?”

An Qingyan replied, “Yeah. The press release will probably drop in a couple of days.”

Qin Bao considered it: “I’m just a supporting actor; it shouldn’t affect me much. Besides, on a major tentpole like this, they wouldn’t pull reckless stunts, would they?”

“You never know. You don’t know the guy—what was their heir’s name again? Zou something-Dong?”

“Zou Jiudong.”

“Right, that Zou Jiudong. His father, Chairman Zou, is getting on in years and landed in the ICU twice last year. Everything’s in his hands now, so he wields a ton of power,” An Qingyan warned. “And I’ve heard he throws his weight around the industry, petty and vindictive to the bone. You’d better watch your back.”

With filming already wrapped, Qin Bao could only pocket An Qingyan’s warning for now, turning to brief Brother Lu on the situation.

Brother Lu said, “I’ll take some people from Jingjing out for dinner tonight and probe around.”

Back at the studio, Xiao Xu poured water for Qin Bao and Brother Lu before doing a lap around the main office floor. The studio now had nearly ten staff members. Returning from her rounds, she remarked, “Strange, why isn’t Sister Sisi here again today? Has your university term not started yet?”

Like Qin Bao, Jin Si was still a student. After the chaotic initial scramble of setting up the studio, Brother Lu’s arrival had eased her workload significantly, allowing her to keep her primary focus on her studies. Knowing little about the industry at the outset, she was now essentially working part-time, learning the ropes as she went.

Xiao Xu and Jin Si had joined the studio at the same time and were very close; every time they returned from an assignment with Qin Bao, Xiao Xu would seek out Jin Si to trade gossip.

“Sisi hasn’t been in for a few days,” Brother Lu said. “Give her a call in a bit.”

With that, he busied himself coordinating the logistics for the next day’s schedule.

Noticing the time, Qin Bao told Xiao Xu to accompany him to that restaurant.

“Bao Ge, tell me what you’re craving and I’ll go pick it up for you,” Xiao Xu offered. “It’s freezing outside, don’t run out.”

Ever since Qin Bao fell ill in Grodie, Xiao Xu had treated him like he was made of spun glass. Unaware of the true diagnosis, she had simply redoubled her fussing over his daily well-being.

Qin Bao said, “I want to look over the menu myself.”

Xiao Xu: “I can snap photos and send them to you.”

“Cut the chatter.” Qin Bao was determined to go, putting on a fierce front that wasn’t intimidating in the slightest: “Are you coming or not?”

Bundled in a knit cap, wire-rimmed glasses, and a thick woolen scarf, Qin Bao was thoroughly disguised, yet his innate presence still commanded plenty of turned heads along the sidewalk.

Xiao Xu had masked up as well, pulling her down coat’s hood low. One tall and one short, the pair looked like two southerners braving their very first northern winter.

Arriving at the restaurant, they found a booth and ordered water.

Qin Bao laid open the glossy menu, picked out several dishes he thought looked appetizing, snapped photos, and forwarded them one by one to Feng Chengyu with two curt characters: [Order.]

Then he waited for a reply.

Xiao Xu tapped her feet while cradling her mug. Knowing her quirks inside out, Qin Bao set his phone down: “Spill it.”

“Alright! If I’m out of line, don’t bite my head off!” Xiao Xu broke character instantly, eyes brimming with anticipation. “I just wanted to ask, Bao… are you… finally official with that hookup of yours…?”

Qin Bao doubted his own ears: “?! What hookup? Since when do I have a hookup?”

Xiao Xu piped up, “You do! You’ve had one all along, and always the same guy! Did you think I hadn’t noticed?”

Qin Bao: “…”

As his personal assistant, there was little Xiao Xu remained blind to, but since she had never pried, he had simply acted as though nothing was amiss.

Seeing Qin Bao clam up, Xiao Xu hesitated to push further.

Instead, a flush crept over Qin Bao’s skin, prompting him to yank at his scarf: “…Lay it out for me. What on earth did you piece together?”

“Then I’m going to start my deduction,” Xiao Xu said, her nerve bolstered by Qin Bao’s indulgence. “First off, that collar ad shoot—you were covered in marks, and you actually tried to tell me a dog bit you! Remember that?”

Qin Bao: “…”

Xiao Xu: “Then that fashion week when you closed the show, you had marks again, and you even slapped on a scent patch! Back then I genuinely thought it was Mo Xiao. But when I ran into him later, I realized it couldn’t be him, because the scent didn’t match at all.”

Qin Bao: “…”

“The scent you always carry is a very delicate floral aroma. I can’t quite name the blossom, but it smells wonderful. And every time you get a fresh haircut, switch up your styling, or come back from a weekend, you’re soaked in that exact scent.”

Qin Bao: “…”

It’s narcissus, thank you very much.

“That guy loves sending you flowers too. You accept every single delivery; you always say to throw them out, but you never stop smelling them. Last year you randomly took off for a week-long holiday out of nowhere. And today, when you showed up, that scent was back all over you… Plus you keep checking your phone, way more often than you used to.”

Qin Bao took a sip of water, paused for two seconds, and finally snapped defensively, “Xu Chenchen, are you a private detective or something?! How about I ship you off to work as a paparazzi?!”

Seeing him flush red to the roots of his ears, Xiao Xu ducked her chin and stifled a giggle.

“When do I ‘always smell them’? Aren’t flowers meant to be smelled? And I haven’t been glued to my phone either.” Qin Bao knocked down her theories before firing back hard, “And for the record: we were never hookups.”

How could legal spouses ever be considered casual hookups?

He wasn’t An Qingyan; he hadn’t discarded his principles to that degree.

Xiao Xu pivoted to another angle: “So he’s your boyfriend, then?”

Boyfriend?

How was he supposed to explain that?

Qin Bao took another sip of water: “Yeah. You could say that.”

Hilarious.

How did Feng Chengyu qualify as a boyfriend? He was unequivocally a contractual spouse—the kind with a legal marriage license to show for it.

Still, “boyfriend” sounded marginally less jarring than “husband.”

Xiao Xu noted, “You didn’t look at your phone at all over the past few days, but today you’ve checked it multiple times, smiling to yourself while you read.”

Qin Bao: “…”

He didn’t recall smiling; Xiao Xu was definitely letting her imagination run wild.

“Who is he? Someone in the industry?” Xiao Xu pressed cautiously. “If he’s in showbiz, I’ll make sure to help run cover for you guys before you go public.”

And maybe slip onto Flow to see if there was already an existing couple supertopic to lurk in.

Her guess missed the mark, allowing Qin Bao to claw back a shred of dignity; it seemed his operational security hadn’t been entirely useless after all.

Qin Bao said, “Not in showbiz, and we have no plans to go public. Stop guessing.”

Xiao Xu grew even more curious: “Then how did you two meet?”

She wondered if he came from the fashion world—a top model paired with a designer made for elite couple material.

Qin Bao pondered for a beat and answered, “Known each other since birth.”

Childhood sweethearts?!

Xiao Xu’s eyes sparkled: “Is he handsome?”

Qin Bao: “…Yeah.”

Feng Chengyu was practically engineered to hit every single one of his aesthetic preferences. Otherwise, how could he have fallen under his spell so thoroughly—lusting after the man for years without ever finding his way back to his senses?

Right then, a ping arrived from Feng Chengyu.

F: [[Image], [Image].]

F: [Home in an hour.]

The topic with Xiao Xu made Qin Bao feel as though his seat were lined with needles, eager to wrap things up and bolt.

The timing of Feng Chengyu’s reply was impeccable. Qin Bao hastily forwarded the checked menu snapshots to Xiao Xu: “Enough talking! Order some food for everyone at the studio first, and then order these for me. I’m taking them to-go.”

“Ordering for the boyfriend?” Xiao Xu chirped happily. “Right away!”

Qin Bao: “…”

Great. After Brother Lu, another one had lost her mind.

Sitting in the back seat, Qin Bao looked at the freshly packed takeout containers beside him, suddenly feeling his behavior was utterly foolish.

Brain rot from romance had to be contagious. He used to have Xu Tangzhou by his side, and now two more had been added to his orbit, prompting these bizarre impulses.

Truly spineless.

Feng Chengyu had offered a cursory explanation for his recent disappearance, tossed out an apology alongside a few soothing words, and agreed to grant a permanent mark—and just like that, Qin Bao had forgotten how miserable he had felt throughout that entire stretch.

When the car pulled up to the house, Qin Bao rubbed his face to shake off the useless emotional turbulence, grabbed the takeout bags, and stepped out.

Bidding farewell to Brother Lu, Qin Bao walked up the front steps and pushed the door open.

The house was dead quiet; not a soul in sight.

What was that about arriving home in an hour?

He had badgered the kitchen twice for nothing.

Setting the containers on the dining table, Qin Bao washed his hands and drifted over to the window.

Feng Chengyu was actually upstairs on the second floor.

Arriving home twenty minutes ahead of schedule after a day packed with travel, he had stepped straight into the shower upon walking in.

Stepping up to the second-floor balustrade, his gaze landed on the tall silhouette framed against the floor-to-ceiling glass below.

He couldn’t tell what Qin Bao was looking at.

The boy took a few steps back, leaning lazily against the sofa’s backrest while keeping his gaze directed out toward the street below.

At the intersection down the road, a neighbor’s car rolled past, followed by a couple chatting amiably while walking their dog, and then the property management’s automated patrol cruiser glided by.

Everything unfolded as it normally did, and Qin Bao looked thoroughly accustomed to the view.

He even shifted his stance, languidly drawing up one long leg, his eyes half-lidded, his eyelashes casting soft crescents of shadow. A few minutes later, he pulled out his phone in sheer boredom, looking as though he intended to text someone, yet his fingers hesitated over the screen.

Feng Chengyu withdrew his own phone.

Inside the chat thread labeled “Bao,” the prompt “The other party is typing…” blinked with crystal clarity.

Downstairs, Qin Bao tapped out characters, only to backspace them away.

Then, he locked the screen entirely, tossing the device aside in pure irritation.

Popping up unannounced would be jarring, so Feng Chengyu tapped his knuckles against the railing before descending the stairs with measured, deliberate strides.

“You’re back?”

Qin Bao spun around in surprise: “You were home?”

Feng Chengyu: “Just showered. When did you get in?”

“Just walked through the door,” Qin Bao stood, putting on a faint show of impatience. “Brother Lu wanted to get home early today, so he drove like a maniac.”

Feng Chengyu played along, pretending not to know better.

Sitting down at the dining table, he broached the day’s developments: “Grandfather called me.”

Qin Bao froze for a split second, offering a flat “Oh,” before asking with feigned nonchalance: “…What did he say?”

“He discussed your Pheromone Rejection Disorder, urging us to complete a permanent mark as soon as possible,” Feng Chengyu said while plating the food. “He said it would be beneficial for both of us.”

Qin Bao turned to fetch glasses and water, keeping his expression hidden from view.

Only his voice came through: “He didn’t mention anything else?”

Feng Chengyu answered truthfully: “He did. Grandfather said he feels deeply apologetic to both of us, but his hand was truly forced.”

Qin Bao’s frame went rigid for a fleeting second before he replied evenly, “Understood.”

The subject was dropped right there.

What Qin Bao found remarkably comforting was that Feng Chengyu didn’t try to lecture him like Mr. Qin always did—spouting platitudes about “learning to see things from the other side” or “considering others more.” A wrong was a wrong. True empathy was an illusion anyway, and genuine vicarious feeling didn’t exist.

Because of this, an unexpected urge to confide surfaced: “Feng Chengyu, do you know why my parents divorced?”

Feng Chengyu naturally didn’t, so Qin Bao answered his own question: “Because my father is too silent. Not silent as in refusing to talk, but that pervasive cowardice and total submission he displays toward everything in life.

“When my maternal grandfather forbade my mother from opening her art studio, he stayed silent. When my mother pushed forward through her own grit, he stayed silent. When her studio failed, he still stayed silent.

“Would you say he didn’t care about her? That’s not true either. When my mother worked, he managed her daily life and pulled all-nighters by her side. But he never fought for a single shred of agency. At every critical fork in their lives, he was practically invisible, utterly noncommittal toward every choice. Even when she asked for a divorce, he met it with silence.

“If my grandfather told him to go east, he wouldn’t dare take a step west. He grew accustomed to having every detail arranged for him; not an ounce of fight was bred into his bones.

“I’d wager that even over the smallest trifle, the thought of making his own choice never once crossed his mind.”

Feng Chengyu listened quietly to the end, then murmured, “So you refused to turn out like him.”

“Of course,” Qin Bao said. “Staying mute your entire life, existing as someone else’s shadow—what’s the point of living like that?”

Feng Chengyu: “Feng Chu told me that you entered that modeling competition behind your family’s back at the very beginning.”

Qin Bao grumbled, “Why does Feng Chu tell you everything?”

Feng Chengyu pointed out, “He’s your fan.”

That was undeniable; Qin Bao still remembered Feng Chu asking for his autograph.

Connecting this with Qin Bao’s earlier mention of wanting to give Ms. Rong funds, Feng Chengyu easily pieced the rest together: “So beyond refusing to live in silence, you wanted to rely on yourself to help them?”

“Yeah,” Qin Bao murmured. “I think the two of them still have feelings for each other.”

The corner of Feng Chengyu’s mouth curved upward.

Qin Bao: “What are you smiling at? You don’t think I can help them?”

“Not at all,” Feng Chengyu denied. “I just remembered the video from your competition days.”

Such a young kid, already calculating how to shoulder his family’s burdens.

Qin Bao was immediately suspicious: “What video? Feng Chu sent that too?”

“The dance routine, and an introduction clip,” Feng Chengyu ate with leisurely elegance, unhurried. “Your fans uploaded it. Didn’t you know? The full compilation of your competition run is all over the internet.”

Unaware such archival footage even existed, Qin Bao bristled: “Stop watching that! It’s pure dark history! I’m having the studio take it down tomorrow!”

After finishing dinner, they cleared the table together. Qin Bao’s favorite cup set couldn’t go into the dishwasher; Feng Chengyu washed while Qin Bao dried. When their bare forearms brushed against each other in the rhythm, the tips of Qin Bao’s ears flared pink instantly.

This lingering undercurrent of intimacy stirred a prickle of panic in Qin Bao.

Whether over Dingxun or face-to-face, their conversations seemed to be multiplying.

No physical intimacy, just endless talking—Qin Bao hated it.

He preferred their old dynamic.

So he called out, “Feng Chengyu.” The moment the Alpha turned, Qin Bao hooked his arms around the man’s neck and kissed him.

It had been so long since they last did this; Qin Bao’s pulse raced wildly.

He pressed several kisses against the lips, but Feng Chengyu didn’t reciprocate at first, merely looking down with those cool, dark eyes while his wet hands clamped firmly around Qin Bao’s waist.

When Qin Bao leaned in to deepen the contact, Feng Chengyu’s fingers caught the back of his head, forcing him back just an inch.

Only then did the Alpha dip his head, bearing down to invade his mouth with direct, ruthless hunger.

__

Author’s note:

Xiao Feng, helpless: I actually wanted to build up our emotional bond a bit more before getting down to business.