RBNR Ch33: Toughen his heart

Both families were deep in lively discussion. Qin Bao excused himself to return to his room to try on the suit, but in reality, he slipped out onto the terrace to smoke.

Gazing out at the courtyard enveloped in night, the days of racing along the pebbled flowerbeds in his childhood felt as vivid as yesterday. He had caught butterflies here back then, and played laser tag and had water-gun fights with Tu Yisen and Shan Yiming right on these grounds. His very first stolen cigarette had been smoked here too; an errant fleck of ash had accidentally dropped onto the birdcage below, earning Mr. Qin a furious tongue-lashing from the old master.

From now on, he likely wouldn’t have many chances to linger here without a care in the world during this season.

A cool rush of mint hit the back of his throat. He had only taken two drags when Feng Chengyu stepped out.

“Got another cigarette?”

With practiced ease, Qin Bao flicked one out of the pack: “Only cheap stuff, with a flavor bead. Do you even smoke these?”

A lot of people couldn’t stand this flavor.

“I smoke them.” Feng Chengyu took the cigarette, placed it between his lips, and said, “Lend me a light.”

Fine, fine, fine.

Craving a smoke without bringing a damn thing.

Grumbling inwardly, Qin Bao held his own cigarette between two fingers of one hand while flicking open the lighter with the other.

A warm, small flame sprang to life. Feng Chengyu dipped his head to draw close and catch the fire.

In that instant, the captivating image from years ago—when he had stumbled upon Feng Chengyu lighting a cigarette at the restaurant—replayed in vivid detail.

Only, compared to the casual ease reserved solely for friends, the Feng Chengyu standing before Qin Bao seemed far more uninhibited. His movements retained their innate elegance, yet carried an insolent nonchalance that made Qin Bao’s teeth itch with irritation.

Snapping the lighter shut, Qin Bao turned his eyes back down toward the terrace below, taking a slow drag before exhaling a thin ribbon of smoke.

Feng Chengyu produced a small box: “Uncle Qin asked me to give this to you.”

Knowing full well what it was, Qin Bao took it and opened the lid.

Inside, resting against blue velvet, lay the delicate narcissus petals. Exquisite and dignified, it had been restored to flawless perfection.

He studied it for a few seconds, then snapped the box shut and shoved it haphazardly into his pocket, offering not a word on whether he intended to wear it.

Averting his gaze, Feng Chengyu joined him in looking out over the nightscape: “Still thinking about Xu Tangzhou?”

This man hadn’t even met the best man, yet he remembered the name without missing a beat.

“Yeah,” Qin Bao replied. Recalling what had unfolded at the gate earlier, he asked directly, “Were you eavesdropping on Shan Yiming and me just now?”

Feng Chengyu said, “I wasn’t eavesdropping.”

Through the haze of smoke, he tacked on, “I only heard the part about someone crushing on you. Does that count?”

So that was why you acted so affectionate in front of the elders?

It wasn’t as if this fell within the scope of “infidelity in any form.” Qin Bao had no obligation to report it, nor did Feng Chengyu need to maintain some facade of unbreakable devotion.

Qin Bao rested his forearms on the railing: “He’s my childhood friend. We were just talking nonsense and joking around.”

Feng Chengyu didn’t take the bait, only stating, “The next time you want to go anywhere, don’t ask someone else to accompany you. Ask me.”

His tone was not open for discussion.

Several things tangled together in his mind, compounded by that narcissus brooch; hearing those words sent Qin Bao’s mood plummeting.

Driven by an inexplicable impulse, he turned around and, seizing on the teasing remark Xu Tangzhou had made, threw a challenge straight at Feng Chengyu: “Are you jealous, Feng Chengyu? Do you have a crush on me too? If you admit it, I might reluctantly pin your brooch on after all.”

Feng Chengyu looked down at him, his dark eyes steady: “Mm. I do.”

Do what?

Does that mean you’re jealous? It couldn’t possibly be admitting to a crush.

Whichever it was, it sent a traitorous jolt of numbness straight through Qin Bao’s heart.

Rolling his eyes at Feng Chengyu, Qin Bao turned back around and sneered, “Tch, you really are shameless. You’ll say anything just to push this wedding through smoothly. Do you honestly think anyone cares?”

Before the cigarette was even halfway finished, mosquitoes caught the scent of blood and began buzzing around.

Qin Bao stubbed out the butt: “I’m heading inside. You can stay out here and feed the mosquitoes yourself.”

With his back still turned, Feng Chengyu replied simply, “Alright.”

After taking a few steps, Qin Bao glanced back at the aloof, solitary silhouette standing tall in the dark.

In truth, he was fleeing in disarray. It wasn’t about mosquitoes at all; that single, ambiguous “I do” had been enough to stir a tempest in his chest.

Perhaps out of frustration with this lingering anticipation, or perhaps because the wedding was closing in step by step, the resentment, grievance, and stubborn awkwardness of the past few weeks seemed to lose all purpose for existing at this very moment.

He suddenly didn’t want to carry them forward anymore.

“Feng Chengyu,” Qin Bao called out his name without warning. “Did you know that I actually used to have a little crush on you?”

Feng Chengyu turned around.

Between his fingertips, the burning cherry of the cigarette glowed crimson against the night.

Qin Bao’s confession came without warning, and could not be taken back.

He paused for a beat, letting the rest out in a single breath: “You must have known, right? With a blabbermouth like Feng Chu, he definitely tipped you off ages ago. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been so bold and righteous, daring to sleep with me after barely meeting a few times.”

He was no idiot; the dots in between were simple enough to connect.

This wasn’t entirely on any single person. He had actively sent out signals first, which was what had led Feng Chengyu to misunderstand.

It was all out in the open now.

Speaking the truth hadn’t seemed easy, but once he actually did it, it wasn’t so terribly difficult after all. Laying it bare cleared away much of the pent-up frustration and defiance in his chest, turning him once again into that fearless, headstrong Qin Bao.

Regardless of how Feng Chengyu might react, Qin Bao turned to head back to his room to change. But just as he rounded the corner of the corridor, Feng Chengyu caught up from behind.

Qin Bao was yanked by the arm, his entire body cornered against the wall.

The hallway chandelier hung directly overhead.

Shadows fell across Feng Chengyu’s face, obscuring his expression, his fingers clamped tightly around Qin Bao’s wrist: “I didn’t quite catch that earlier. What do you mean by ‘a little’?”

Qin Bao shot back, “It means it was only a tiny bit, and now it’s completely gone.”

Feng Chengyu’s grip was immense, pinching Qin Bao hard enough to hurt and leaving him unable to wrench free: “Since you had some before, give me a little more.”

A flash of irritation crossed Qin Bao’s face, though his eyes remained clear and open: “Can’t give it. I don’t like things that come with a price tag, forced into my hands.”

A teenager’s fondness and disdain were equally exasperating.

And equally impossible to grasp.

“Let’s get this straight right now: once we’re married, everything follows the contract. Who I go out with is my own freedom,” Qin Bao asserted with sharp clarity, staking out his boundaries. “In short, I won’t meddle in your business, and you’d better keep your nose out of mine. Just manage yourself.”

The atmosphere plummeted degree by degree.

Their lips were exceptionally close, drifting barely apart with the rhythm of Qin Bao’s breathing.

Yet neither pushed forward; neither leaned in that extra fraction of an inch.

If this continued, his racing heart would be laid bare sooner or later. Qin Bao turned to leave, but his body was spun back around by Feng Chengyu. Immediately after, a sharp sting hit his lower lip—Feng Chengyu had actually bitten down on it.

“Except I don’t mind you meddling in my business.”

Feng Chengyu’s tone held no trace of anger; instead, he sounded like he was teasing a child, a condescending lilt that was thoroughly irritating to hear.

“Why don’t you try managing me? How about it.”

A current seemed to crackle across his lips.

Qin Bao’s heart hammered like a war drum. He knew all too well how potent the pull of a high compatibility rate was; getting forcibly kissed under these conditions would be entirely impossible to endure.

He could only snap back gruffly, “No. Not interested.”

Feng Chengyu murmured three words in a low voice.

Qin Bao’s face flushed an explosive, scorching red on the spot. Shoving Feng Chengyu back with all his might, he spun on his heel and bolted.

His strides were fast and frantic, shoes thudding heavily against the wooden stairs. When his senses finally caught up, he found he had somehow circled back to the main living hall, even though he had intended to return to his room.

A freshly brewed pot of herbal tea sat on the table. Casting all decorum to the wind, he hurried over and poured himself a massive glass, gulping it down to force his temperature back down.

Seeing him drink so hurriedly, Ms. Rong asked, “What’s the matter, Bao’er? Gulping down so much cold water.”

Not knowing whether his lip was split from the bite, Qin Bao could only cover his mouth with a hand, rambling wildly: “…I accidentally swallowed a mosquito just now.”

“A mosquito? Why haven’t you gone to rinse your mouth yet, then?”

Overhearing this from the side, Mr. Qin immediately pulled a face of utter disgust. Abandoning his chat with Professor Feng, he stood up on the spot to dispatch the household staff to clear the terrace of pests.

Unable to linger a second longer, Qin Bao turned to leave, only to see Feng Chengyu stepping back inside looking completely unruffled. The two brushed past each other.

Those three words Feng Chengyu had whispered were still scorching Qin Bao’s ears.

—“It is legal.”

Why don’t you try managing me? How about it.

It is legal.

Delivered in that cool, detached timbre, murmuring words calculated to reel him in, yet laced with an undeniable edge of possessive force—it was impossible to tell whether it was deliberate or not.

What on earth was Feng Chengyu trying to pull?

Only at this moment did a strange, prickling sense of crisis finally stir within Qin Bao.

He realized that if the Feng Chengyu the public knew was merely the tip of an iceberg above the waterline, then the massive, unyielding shelf of ice facing him was slowly, deliberately rising above the surface.

Between confirming the wedding details and running through rehearsals, a week flashed by in the blink of an eye.

Curiously enough, the two protagonists barely crossed paths throughout that entire week. An Qingyan had agreed to stand as Qin Bao’s best man, and the very first thing he did upon laying eyes on him was marvel: “As expected of the groom. Dressed up like a little prince today—you actually look quite proper.”

Sleep-deprived, Qin Bao gave him a deadpan look: “I’m plenty proper on normal days too.”

An Qingyan retorted without an ounce of mercy: “On normal days you look like a rebellious teenage delinquent. Sure, you look expensive, but with that occasionally feral temper of yours, even passing dogs step around you on tiptoe, terrified you might suddenly go berserk.”

“…”

Qin Bao’s expression instantly turned lively.

Spotting the narcissus brooch pinned to the white formal suit, An Qingyan praised, “Nice accessory. So many diamonds. Bao, were you born into wealth or did you marry into it?”

Qin Bao had always kept a low profile and guarded his background meticulously; had he not called him in to rescue the situation, An Qingyan never would have known the truth of his family pedigree. Yet once he knew, it made total sense—that unshakable, graceful nonchalance wasn’t something just anyone could carry. Besides, without matching social standing, how could he have ended up entangled with Feng Chengyu in the first place?

Completely unaware of any contract, An Qingyan assumed this was merely a dramatic script of breaking up and getting back together, teasing him mercilessly.

Qin Bao reached up as if to unpin it: “You like it? I’ll give it to you.”

An Qingyan slapped his hand away: “I just praised you for looking proper, could you hold it together for two more seconds? Is this the kind of thing you can casually give away?”

As an Omega, An Qingyan had used suppressants, but spending enough time around him meant he had inevitably caught the scent of Feng Chengyu’s pheromones. The nationally renowned Alpha turned out to be an icy, proud narcissus, matching his personal bearing to perfection.

What it meant for this narcissus brooch to be pinned to Qin Bao’s lapel was something anyone with eyes could read clearly.

The wedding schedule was packed, leaving Qin Bao little time to banter with An Qingyan as he was shuffled from station to station like a dressed-up doll.

It wasn’t until the photography session that he unexpectedly came face to face with Feng Chengyu.

Beside Feng Chengyu stood his best man, a man named Shu Helan. True to his status as Feng Chengyu’s lifelong friend, he was remarkably handsome and impeccably polished; the two shared an unmistakable aura of birds of a feather.

Yet even standing amidst the crowd flanked by such a striking best man, Feng Chengyu still stood out like a crane among chickens.

Their eyes locked across the sea of people. Remembering the words exchanged that night, Qin Bao walked over, his limbs moving stiffly in unison.

“The other groom has arrived!”

“So handsome! They’re such a perfect match!”

“Seriously stunning…”

Amidst the flattering praises and teasing cheers of the crowd, Feng Chengyu took Qin Bao’s hand with absolute gentlemanly poise: “You look beautiful today.”

Qin Bao: “…”

He ought to offer a polite compliment in return, even if just keeping up appearances in front of so many onlookers. And while any praise he could muster would be entirely factual, his throat felt as though a padlock had snapped shut over it, the key tossed straight into the depths of the Pacific.

Balloons, ribbons, fresh blossoms—frame after frame was preserved under the camera lens.

At last, they were ushered through the double doors into the ceremonial hall.

No press had been invited to this wedding; it was kept entirely confidential from the public, celebrated with both understated restraint and lavish grandeur. Beyond immediate family and friends, numerous political figures filled the hall; a casual sweep of the seating aisles yielded face after recognizable face.

The wedding march swelled.

Wearing the narcissus brooch and resting his hand on Mr. Qin’s arm, Qin Bao took slow, measured steps toward Feng Chengyu.

Under the celebrant’s warm congratulations, they exchanged rings.

…

“I do.”

“I do.”

Having recited the vows almost mechanically, they drew close, embracing one another to deliver a sweet, tender kiss for the audience.

Ms. Rong and his grandmother shed tears, while Old Master Qin, seated beside his maternal grandfather, was moved to glistening eyes as well. Feng Chu and Professor Lin held their phones aloft the entire time, snapping an endless barrage of photos from below the dais.

Everything played out exactly according to script.

Following the ceremony came the reception party.

Having practiced the wedding proceedings over the past few days, the two stepped onto the dance floor for their first dance with practiced ease.

“Tired?”

As if nothing had ever passed between them, Feng Chengyu rested a steady hand at his waist, his expression completely composed.

“…Stupid question.”

Now that the ice was broken, Qin Bao couldn’t maintain the rigid front any longer, his tone softening involuntarily: “Aren’t you tired?”

Going through a full ceremony versus simply signing a registration felt entirely different.

Registration was merely an extra piece of paper. But having passed through the witnesses and blessings of family and friends, they felt as though they had truly become a pair; even standing together like this, they seemed to everyone in the room to fit seamlessly, like hand in glove.

Qin Bao didn’t particularly care for this feeling. Being bound to another individual like this carried a sense of losing a piece of himself, leaving him unsettled and uneasy.

“I’m not tired.” Feng Chengyu was indeed radiating vitality, asking in a soft voice, “Do you want me to send someone to Qinan to check on the situation?”

Qin Bao looked over, surprised.

He hadn’t realized Feng Chengyu had seen right through his thoughts.

It was true; even up until today, Qin Bao had still harbored a sliver of hope that Xu Tangzhou would appear. He had even cleared it with An Qingyan beforehand: if Xu Tangzhou suddenly showed up, the best man spot would belong to him unconditionally.

Yet, though he had left messages across every single one of Xu Tangzhou’s social accounts, and had even sent multiple texts to his gaming profile, Xu Tangzhou had never arrived by the time the ceremony began.

Disappointed and hurt, Qin Bao couldn’t help a surge of resentment: why, as his best friend, would Xu Tangzhou miss his wedding? A botched exam could be retaken; a breakup could be moved past with time. He was clearly the best person to stay by Xu Tangzhou’s side through the dark patch, so why could the boy bear to abandon him and flee abroad?

Yet he knew deep down that his bitterness was unreasonable.

Had he been the one facing those crises, he might have handled things far worse than Xu Tangzhou.

Guests circling the dance floor were watching them.

Observing their seemingly intimate posture, Director Feng smiled and murmured something to the dignitary beside her, who nodded repeatedly in approval.

Qin Bao shifted his cheek slightly, maintaining a measured distance from Feng Chengyu.

Regardless, he was genuinely grateful that the man was at least looking out for him.

His eyes stinging slightly, he whispered, “No need. It’s not that big a deal anyway; what’s missed is missed. I’ll just invite him to the next wedding all the same.”

As their steps transitioned with the music, Feng Chengyu’s lips brushed fleetingly past Qin Bao’s earlobe.

A light puff of breath swept across his skin, yet the man showed no sign of anger at all: “Mm. Inviting him to the next one works just the same.”

Qin Bao: “…”

A punch landing dead on soft cotton.

Whatever.

Now that he had boarded this pirate ship, he would squeeze his eyes shut, steel his resolve, and trust that five years would fly by in no time!