RBNR Ch32: What do you think, baobao?

Saying they would go, they left on the spot, riding the motorcycle straight to the airport. Checking in, getting their boarding passes, and boarding the plane took barely two or three hours altogether. Throughout his five-year modeling career, Qin Bao had developed the knack of falling asleep at any moment, regardless of the mode of transportation.

He only woke up as the plane was touching down and taxiing. Opening his eyes, he saw Shan Yiming watching his face. The guy had tanned to a deep, healthy bronze, and with age catching up to him, meeting his gaze caught Qin Bao off guard with a slight touch of unfamiliarity.

Sitting up, he asked, “Is there something on my face?”

Shan Yiming said, “Words.”

“Hm?”

“It says ‘gullible’.”

“Get lost.” He gave Shan Yiming a light kick. “You’re the gullible one. Someone just painted a rosy picture and lured you to a racing team to do grunt work, tanning you until you look like charcoal.”

By the time they touched down at Qinan Airport, it was already the early hours of the morning. The two hailed a cab into Qinan’s downtown district, checked into a hotel, and got separate rooms. Around seven in the morning, Qin Bao was already awake, dialing Xu Tangzhou’s phone number several times in succession.

At breakfast, Qin Bao absently drank a single bowl of porridge, completely lacking the appetite to sample Qinan’s local delicacies like Shan Yiming was doing.

Arriving at the gates of Qinan High School, the students had just entered the campus for morning classes. The front gate was bolted shut, and the security guard refused to let them in.

Hearing they were looking for an applicant who had just taken the college entrance examination, the guard eyed them suspiciously and dialed the dean’s office for instructions.

After about half an hour, he finally handed them the mobile number of Xu Tangzhou’s homeroom teacher.

Qin Bao explained that he was a friend of Xu Tangzhou’s and, being desperately worried after losing contact with him, wanted to ask for his home address.

The teacher sounded very hesitant: “Where are you friends from?”

“The capital,” Qin Bao introduced himself. “My name is Qin Bao.”

The teacher said, “From the capital, huh… I’m sorry, but that student’s identity is somewhat sensitive; people used to harass him all the time. I’m not at liberty to disclose his home address, but I can ask his guardian for you.”

The teacher promised to call back shortly, allowing Qin Bao to breathe a slight sigh of relief.

That wait lasted a full two hours.

The June sun beat down until one grew dizzy; even taking refuge in the shade, the waves of heat steamed upward uncomfortably. Shan Yiming waited patiently alongside him without complaint, even asking if Qin Bao wanted some milk tea.

Qin Bao shook his head: “No need. Let’s just grab a bottle of cold water from the convenience store, and a pack of cigarettes while we’re at it.”

The two stepped into the convenience store outside the school.

Qin Bao picked out a bottle of water quickly, but couldn’t find his cigarettes.

Shan Yiming said he was feeling a bit hungry and picked out some snacks. While waiting for him, Qin Bao checked his silent phone several times, spacing out by the doorway.

True to a convenience store located near a school, the shelves were packed with a dizzying variety of goods. Beyond daily snacks, there was an abundance of pop-culture and entertainment merchandise. During high school, Qin Bao hadn’t had much chance to experience this; since Xu Tangzhou had faded from the modeling scene longer than he had, he had probably spent plenty of time hanging around here.

Racks near the entrance held colorful scent gland patches, mostly adorned with anime prints. Below sat a magazine stand stocked with brand-new issues.

The magazine covers featured plenty of faces familiar to Qin Bao, with only his own missing. There were also celebrity idols and singers—for instance, the currently sensational Ling Che. That Alpha with mixed-race features monopolized three or four covers, with the most glaring headline reading: [Ling Che’s Album Sales Top Charts for Eleventh Consecutive Week].

Xu Tangzhou normally hated studying and had an obsessive weakness for buying fashion magazines to read celebrity gossip; he had undoubtedly bought plenty of this stuff here.

Qin Bao let his gaze sweep across the bottom row of political magazines, where familiar small print caught his eye: [Feng Chengyu: Establishing a Long-Term Mechanism for Renewable Energy Operations…]

His phone rang abruptly, startling him. The caller ID displayed an unfamiliar number.

He answered quickly, and a genial female voice came through: “Hello, I am Xu Tangzhou’s mother.”

It turned out the teacher had handed his number straight to the parent.

Qin Bao knew of Xu Tangzhou’s mother; her name was Xie Rui, a highly capable event planner in the industry.

Qin Bao greeted her at once: “Hello, Auntie Xie. I’m Zhouzhou’s friend, Qin Bao. I’m not sure if he’s mentioned me to you.”

“He has, I know of you,” Xie Rui said. “What is the reason for you reaching out to Xu Tangzhou?”

Qin Bao couldn’t very well announce that he was getting married—at this age, it did sound a little bizarre—so he merely explained that he had grown worried after being unable to reach him and wanted Xu Tangzhou to come to the phone.

Xie Rui said, “Oh, he’s fine. He just changed his phone number.”

Qin Bao: “Could you share his new number with me?”

Xie Rui declined cleanly: “I’m sorry, that isn’t very convenient. Zhouzhou is heading abroad very soon.”

“Why?” Qin Bao was baffled. “He never mentioned that to me.”

Xie Rui sighed: “It’s like this: his college entrance exam results were extremely disappointing, and he broke up with his boyfriend. He suffered a massive blow, so he wants to go abroad to start a new life, intending to sever all ties with past people and matters. Thank you for your concern, but please respect his personal decision and refrain from disturbing him further. If he heals his wounds and changes his mind down the road, he will reach out to you on his own.”

The more Qin Bao listened, the more alarmed he became: “Actually, I’m in Qinan right now. Could you please let me see him—”

“That’s all.”

Xie Rui hung up the call.

When Qin Bao tried dialing again, he had already been blocked.

Seeing that something was off, Shan Yiming came out and was about to ask what happened when Qin Bao said, “Let me borrow your phone.”

Holding an iced water in one hand and a shopping bag in the other, Shan Yiming unexpectedly hesitated: “Wait a second…”

Unable to care about formalities, Qin Bao reached straight into his pocket and pulled out the phone.

The screen lit up, and both of them froze.

The wallpaper was a photo of Qin Bao’s sleeping face, taken on the plane the night before.

Shan Yiming’s tan face flushed bright red: “I, uh, that—”

Qin Bao: “Passcode.”

He had zero mood to ask about irrelevant nonsense.

Shan Yiming blurted it out: “159753.”

After unlocking it, Qin Bao dialed Xie Rui’s number again, hoping to ask for the Xu family’s address. But no matter how many times he tried, Xie Rui never picked up again.

They lingered in Qinan for another hour. Seeing that their boarding time was drawing near and that staying longer was entirely pointless, they rushed back to the airport. On the return journey, Qin Bao barely spoke a word, but he didn’t sleep either, keeping his gaze fixed on the sea of clouds outside the airplane window.

Neither of them brought up the photo set as the wallpaper.

“He’s my best friend. No matter what I say, he understands,” Qin Bao said out of nowhere. “Even if we don’t contact each other for a long time, meeting again feels like we never parted. He’s another me in this world.”

He was his one and only true friend.

“He wouldn’t cut me off, Shan Yiming. I think he’s just hurting too much,” Qin Bao murmured.

“He promised he would be my best man.”

Shan Yiming comforted him: “Sometimes people get stuck in a rut and just want to be left alone. Maybe once he sorts out his thoughts tomorrow, he’ll reach out to you himself. You have to give him a little time. Besides, even if he can’t make it right now, there are other choices for a best man.”

Qin Bao shook his head: “The best man isn’t important. I’m just really worried about him.”

Failing the college entrance exams, and breaking up.

To Xu Tangzhou, that was devastating—far worse than losing a job or being forced into a marriage.

At six in the evening, the plane touched down in the capital.

Shan Yiming retrieved his bike in silence. Qin Bao climbed onto the back seat, but this time he didn’t wrap his arms around Shan Yiming’s waist.

The capital was a blaze of dazzling lights, the twilight orange of the setting sun contrasting sharply with the deep blue of the sky. The motorcycle rumbled through the bustling traffic, arriving outside the serene Qin estate.

Taking off his helmet, Qin Bao handed it back to Shan Yiming: “Want to come inside and sit for a bit? I have to try on my wedding suit one more time later.”

The wedding date clashed with a motorcycle race.

Shan Yiming wouldn’t be able to attend the wedding.

“I won’t go in. Our team has to assemble in the neighboring city,” Shan Yiming said. “If I head out now, I can still make it before midnight.”

Qin Bao waved goodbye, took two steps, and then turned back, raising an eyebrow: “Shan Yiming, don’t use a bro’s photo as your wallpaper. It’s pretty creepy.”

Shan Yiming chuckled, pulling on his helmet: “You didn’t show up for my championship race last time, so I kept your picture to draw curses on. Don’t flatter yourself; I don’t have time to crush on you.”

Qin Bao truly had forgotten about Shan Yiming’s race back then.

Locked up at home and barely surviving, how could he have had the spare headspace to watch a race?

It wasn’t convenient to explain that to Shan Yiming, though.

“You’d better not. Plenty of people have a crush on me; you wouldn’t even make the queue,” he warned Shan Yiming, then made a promise: “Next time you race, I’ll try to get there early, alright? Just so you don’t hold a grudge and curse my photo all day.”

Bidding each other farewell, Qin Bao walked into the courtyard amidst the fading roar of the departing motorcycle. Through the darkness, he caught sight of a familiar silhouette passing smoothly into the main foyer.

Feng Chengyu had arrived, and his parents were naturally present as well.

Ms. Rong was there tonight too. Everyone was reviewing the wedding proceedings one final time under the planner’s guidance.

“Where did you run off to?” Ms. Rong walked over, taking Qin Bao’s arm. “You were nowhere to be found during the day, and running around at this hour. Chengyu and the rest of us visited the venue again today; you should have come along.”

Even though he wasn’t late, Qin Bao felt an irrational prickle of guilt, glancing subconsciously in Feng Chengyu’s direction.

He wondered just how much of his exchange with Shan Yiming at the gate Feng Chengyu had overheard.

Feng Chengyu was seated in an armchair nearby, dressed in a crisp shirt and trousers that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He had likely just come from an official engagement, leaning in to listen to what the planner was saying while reviewing the details on the schedule card together.

He had been like this during their meeting at the private cinema, and he was just the same now—his posture remarkably upright and poised, even on an occasion like this, even while simply sitting down.

…Doesn’t he get exhausted keeping up that front?

Qin Bao felt tired just watching him.

Ever since registering, the two had barely seen each other.

Feng Chengyu had been away on business trips for nearly two months, and Qin Bao hadn’t enforced the clause of “meeting Mondays and Fridays, taking the initiative to draw closer to the other” even once.

Though Feng Chengyu had drafted the agreement meticulously, Qin Bao had found a loophole to exploit.

He had argued plausibly that the contract never clearly specified when the clauses took effect—whether immediately upon registration or after the wedding ceremony. Since it wasn’t specified, it could naturally begin formally after the ceremony.

Furthermore, he hadn’t known a wedding ceremony was in the cards at all, which had wasted plenty of his time—an error attributable to Feng Chengyu, meaning they were even.

Surprisingly, Feng Chengyu had raised no objection.

As if sensing his stare, Feng Chengyu suddenly lifted his head, his dark eyes sweeping over him.

Qin Bao shifted his gaze away instantly, answering Ms. Rong, “I went to Qinan to look for my friend.”

Professor Lin had heard about this as well: “Is that the friend who was going to be your best man? How did it go, Xiao Bao? Did you find him?”

Qin Bao shook his head: “A small situation came up with his family. He probably won’t be able to make it.”

Hearing this, everyone grew a little anxious.

Feng Chengyu had asked Shu Helan to serve as his best man, and Qin Bao’s side had long settled on his choice as well. With the best man abruptly unable to attend, none of his unmarried childhood friends were Omegas, and among his Omega friends, none shared a build similar to Xu Tangzhou’s—it truly was a bit tricky.

Having wrapped up his discussion with the planner, Feng Chengyu walked over.

“What about An Qingyan? He helped try on the best man’s suit, so the sizing shouldn’t be an issue and won’t need alterations. Could we invite him to stand as the best man?”

Feng Chengyu hadn’t been present the day An Qingyan did the fitting, yet he was remarkably well-informed about the details.

Who knew what kind of charm he had worked on the family, but aside from the old master, even Mr. Qin and Ms. Rong were now warmly calling him “Chengyu” with utmost affection.

“Chengyu makes a good point,” Ms. Rong chimed in. “Bao’er, what do you think about inviting Mr. An?”

Qin Bao had considered that option too, but he still felt thoroughly vexed: “He’s very busy as well. I’ll call to ask him in a bit to see if he has time.”

“Mm,” Feng Chengyu said. “If he doesn’t have time either, I’ll figure something out.”

As he spoke, he naturally stepped beside Qin Bao and took his hand.

In the eyes of the onlookers, even without matching formalwear, they were already a breathtakingly handsome couple.

Qin Bao: “…”

Is there a need to put on an act like this? Isn’t he taking this a bit too seriously?

“By the way, Bao’er, your suit alterations are done. It was sent to your room this afternoon; hurry upstairs and try it on again,” Ms. Rong said. “It looked fine to me this time, but I still felt the collar was missing something.”

Qin Bao’s suit was an all-white ensemble. He had originally refused, wanting to wear a black suit just like Feng Chengyu, but the old master had mocked that they would look “like two mobsters holding a meeting” or “an insurance agents’ training convention,” so he had dropped the idea.

The wedding would host numerous political dignitaries, meaning the style and detail requirements were exceptionally stringent. The collar had already been tweaked once, and this latest round altered the cuffs.

Hearing Ms. Rong say this, Professor Lin spoke up: “Chengyu, that narcissus brooch you gave Xiao Bao for his birthday last time—wouldn’t that be the perfect touch?”

The room fell quiet for two seconds. After Qin Bao had slammed the brooch against the wall, an edge of the narcissus petal had broken off.

Ms. Rong hesitated: “The brooch…”

Mr. Qin, who had been chatting with Professor Feng nearby, overheard and said, “Elegant and dignified, it truly complements the look. I have it stored away; I’ll fetch it in a moment for him to try on.”

It seemed it had been repaired. Relieved, Ms. Rong asked for the couple’s input: “What do you two think?”

Feng Chengyu turned to Qin Bao, his voice deep, deliberately adopting an ambiguous tone: “What does Bao Bao think?”

Qin Bao kept his expression perfectly smooth, narrowing his eyes slightly: “Sounds great.”