Chapter 82: Special
Inside the quiet private room, the faint sound of a guzheng could be heard coming from the hall.
Wen Yan couldn’t help but fire back, his tone sharp. “What is there to be ‘open’ about regarding our relationship? We aren’t a couple. Didn’t I already say we’re friends?”
He only realized how off the words sounded after he said them. He looked up and collided with Pei Zhouye’s dark, heavy gaze.
Seeing him look over, Pei Zhouye gave a small nod, his tone casual as if he weren’t being serious. “We’re all friends, so why can Duan Mingtao and Wu Qingqing walk openly on the street with you, but I can’t even have a meal with you?”
“Would you treat other friends like this too?”
“Of course not!” Wen Yan retorted instantly. Once the words were out, he fell into a regretful silence.
“Your status is different.” His voice wasn’t loud.
It was as if he were trying to convince himself, speaking for his own ears. He treated Pei Zhouye as “special” because Pei Zhouye’s status was special.
Once he had convinced himself, Wen Yan gained a bit more confidence. He lifted his chin. “I’d have to be crazy to walk around with the President of our Pei Group.”
Pei Zhouye didn’t speak, simply watching him with a smile. The expressions on Wen Yan’s face were too vivid—guilt mixed with a hint of smugness, like a bright flower grown in an excellent environment.
The design of this place was very specific; one could hear the footsteps and guzheng music in the hall, but everything inside the private room was completely soundproof to the outside. The rooms were checked multiple times a day by the club staff or the clients’ own people to ensure no listening devices were present. Such confidentiality was a signature service of this club, where all members were either wealthy or influential, subjected to multiple layers of vetting.
“I promised you that the place where we eat would never be leaked.”
Pei Zhouye casually mentioned a few pieces of gossip, which left Wen Yan somewhat shocked. Things that sounded like pure fabrication turned out to be actual facts. He listened with great interest.
There was a knock at the door. After receiving a response from inside, several servers entered in an orderly fashion, carrying trays of exquisite and high-priced dishes to set on the table.
After they left, Pei Zhouye sat back lazily, his eyelids fluttering as he looked at Wen Yan.
“Do you want to hear more?”
Wen Yan hesitated for a moment, feeling a bit vexed as he prepared to argue with him again. “What do you want now?!”
Pei Zhouye was always using one excuse after another to make demand after demand. From the initial WeChat add, to the later bet, and then to being together—he had already agreed to so many of Pei Zhouye’s unreasonable requests!
“I want you to have dinner with me tomorrow as well.”
“You really…”
The end of Wen Yan’s sentence caught in his throat, and he went instantly quiet. He was scorched by the look Pei Zhouye gave him and shrank back.
Pei Zhouye didn’t look away. The man opposite him had very long eyelashes that cast light gray shadows under his eyes when he looked down, and his pupils were very light in color.
The atmosphere remained silent for a while before Pei Zhouye finally averted his gaze, returning to that languid tone. “If you want to listen, I have plenty more to tell you.”
He pushed a plate of deshelled crab meat toward Wen Yan, the small celadon dish piled with glistening white strands.
Wen Yan didn’t respond, his ears turning even redder. The incense in the room was a cool sandalwood scent, blending with the guzheng music drifting in from the window. The atmosphere, which should have been relaxing, felt like water-soaked cotton—heavy and pressing down on the heart.
On the way back, Wen Yan was much quieter. He didn’t even know what he was thinking or what he actually wanted.
The car stopped.
As Wen Yan prepared to open the door and step out, a palm suddenly covered his hand on the door handle. He looked back in confusion, locking eyes with Pei Zhouye.
“I’m going back with you,” Pei Zhouye said stubbornly.
Wen Yan lowered his gaze, and the two fell into a stalemate. After a moment of silence, Pei Zhouye expected this to be another long-drawn-out standoff like before.
“Fine.”
This time, Wen Yan agreed with unusual ease—so easily that Pei Zhouye felt a rare sense of awkwardness.
The two of them got out of the car at the base of the apartment building and walked side by side through the old residential area. Spring had brought blossoms to the ornamental peach trees, and the hazy night was quiet.
The building only had stairs. As they climbed, the stairwell was narrow; two tall, long-legged men walked one after the other—one broad-shouldered and imposing, the other slender and lean.
The person in front suddenly stopped.
Sensing something was wrong, Pei Zhouye took a few steps to catch up, following Wen Yan’s gaze.
The originally clean door had been splashed with red paint. The smell was pungent, and it looked like the dark, settled color of a large amount of blood. As the paint had been splashed, it had splattered onto several gifts and letters that people had secretly sent and left at the doorstep.
Among them was a teddy bear in a plastic case; the red paint was streaks running down the plastic, creating a grotesque, bloody sensation.
Pei Zhouye instinctively pulled Wen Yan into his arms to shield him, his face darkening significantly. His breath hit the back of Wen Yan’s ear, carrying a clear sense of ferocity.
Compared to his tension, Wen Yan’s face remained devoid of expression. He stared at the mess for a long time before pushing Pei Zhouye away to pick up the gifts and pile them to one side, preparing to use his key to open the door.
His fair, slender fingers were stained with the paint that hadn’t yet fully dried, making it look as if his hands were covered in blood.
Pei Zhouye heard him let out a very soft “Chi,” like a scoff of mockery.
Pei Zhouye frowned. “Wen Yan.”
In the silence, there was the sound of the key sliding into the lock and the cylinder turning. Wen Yan didn’t look back.
Pei Zhouye felt a strange surge of panic. The smell of the paint was sharp as he stepped forward and pulled Wen Yan into a hug.
“I won’t let this happen in front of you again. Wen Yan, don’t be afrai—”
Don’t be afraid.
He didn’t finish the sentence.
The door had already been opened. Wen Yan broke free of his embrace, stepped inside, and then turned to look at him.
“It’s very late. You should go back.”
The coldness in Pei Zhouye’s eyes was heavy, as if he were contemplating something. Hearing Wen Yan’s voice, he seemed to snap back to his senses.
He crinkled his eyes and smiled, asking, “Can I come pick you up tomorrow?”
Wen Yan said nothing.
Pei Zhouye added, “You don’t have class tomorrow afternoon. When school lets out at noon, I’ll wait for you at the same place as today.”
“We don’t need to meet every day,” Wen Yan said, his clear eyes showing no emotion. “Pei Zhouye, you don’t need to help me.”
Pei Zhouye tilted his head and let out a “Tsk.” The sound was dragged out and lazy, yet it carried an air that brooked no argument. Wen Yan had just furrowed his brows, not yet having the chance to ask what that “Tsk” meant, when his eyes widened in the next second.
Pei Zhouye had closed the distance by half a step before he even realized it. A powerful palm pressed directly against the door panel, almost brushing Wen Yan’s elbow, and with a backhand movement, the door slammed shut with a heavy clack.
The dull sound of the door closing made Wen Yan’s heart skip a beat. Before he could react and retreat, he was wrapped tightly in an irresistible force.
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