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Chapter Text

How the lie began (a year ago)…

Shang Qinghua pulled his hoodie as tight around his head as it would go, but the layer of fabric did nothing to drown out the sounds of wild sex coming from the room next door. Even Shang Qinghua’s noise-cancelling headphones couldn’t drown out the piercing noises.

It wasn’t necessarily the sounds of sex that bothered him, but rather that the sounds were a reminder of how pathetic he was.

It was a Saturday night, and Shang Qinghua was here, alone, working on a manuscript that nobody would ever read—while his best friend/roommate was getting his back blown out just a few feet away. Not only that, but Shang Qinghua had been relegated to his own bedroom for the entire night.

Whenever Shen Qingqiu, the roommate in question, had his boyfriend over, the two of them were disgusting. It wasn’t like Shen Qingqiu forced Shang Qinghua to stay in his room whenever Luo Binghe dropped by. But that feral beast of an Alpha always made it clear, through glares and near-growls, that Shang Qinghua was not welcome when he was around. (At the end of the day, it was just better to keep to himself and stay the hell away.)

And besides, Shang Qinghua wasn’t interested in watching them flaunt their perfect compatibility all through the apartment. Jealousy clogged Shang Qinghua’s throat and left him with a bad taste in his mouth.

Once the amorous moans and relentless bed-squeaking calmed down, Shang Qinghua lowered his hood once again. He could still hear the two of them faintly going at it, but they’d transitioned to the tender love-making phase of the night. After years of listening to this bullshit, Shang Qinghua knew the couple’s patterns. They were like clockwork.

Shang Qinghua was still nursing the sting of loneliness, so he took a break from his writing, just to glance at his phone.

A while ago, he’d downloaded this new dating app, called Mate Match. The name of it was absolutely appalling, but it was supposed to be the best dating app on the market. It allowed you to set a ton of very specific dating preferences, and everyone who used it raved about the customization.

People loved it, and Shang Qinghua downloaded it after a having a brief, and misguided, glimmer of hope that it would put an end to his solitary weekends.

The young man only had one friend, and he was always busy with his business in the other room. The only other ways to occupy his leisure time, besides being a shut-in, were to make new friends (which Shang Qinghua was extraordinarily bad at), or to get a boyfriend (and dating was the only thing that Shang Qinghua was worse at than making friends).

It was embarrassing, really, how incapable he was of being part of this society. But it wasn’t like it was his fault.

Shang Qinghua had been delt an exceptionally shitty hand in life, and he faced the repercussions of his unfortunate existence every goddamn day.

Of course, he had his Mate Match profile set to “Alpha,” because that was what he honestly was. And that was just the start of his woes. Ever since he went through puberty, everyone around him always had something to say about him.

“You don’t look like an Alpha.” “You don’t act like an Alpha.” “Alpha’s don’t usually do that.”

Now, at the ripe age of 28, Shang Qinghua was painfully aware how much of a disappointment he was to Alphas everywhere. He was shorter than average, for one. And he never had the overbearing, sexual presence of an Alpha either. One look at his pictures, and any Omega or Beta with any sense would move right along, like his profile didn’t even exist.

The second problem was that Shang Qinghua had his preferences set to both “men” and “Alphas,” because that was who he was honestly interested in dating. He’d heard a lot of shit about that too.

“No self-respecting Alpha would date another Alpha.” “Sorry, I don’t date Alphas.” “You’re not my type…”

So, basically, even though he was the shittiest Alpha on the market, his status as an Alpha was just too much for the men he actually wanted to get fucked by.

Shang Qinghua was a bad deal for everyone. Omegas wouldn’t touch him, and Alphas wouldn’t either. If there was one thing that everyone could agree on, it was that Shang Qinghua was extremely undatable.

And a man can only shoulder that sort of burden for so long before he starts to lose his mind.

With a groan, Shang Qinghua went to close out of the app. It only mocked him with its bright colors and stupid UI. He, for the thousandth time, considered deleting it.

Then, in the silence, he was hit with a sudden, devious thought.

Maybe the problem wasn’t that he was a pathetic Alpha looking for an Alpha. Maybe the real problem was his honesty.

People lied on dating apps all the time. Prospective daters lied about their heights, and their body counts, and their jobs, and their star signs, and countless other things that might turn people off. If that was the case, then, who ever said that Shang Qinghua had to be perfectly honest?

If the only thing keeping him from getting in bed with a hot Alpha was that he was an Alpha too, then why not just change his type on the app?

Shang Qinghua knew that this was a bad idea. Even though everyone did it to some degree, catfishing was bad. And lying about being an Alpha was a really big lie… But Shang Qinghua was already creating a new profile before he could talk himself out of it. The potential was too enticing to ignore.

He deleted his old profile for good measure, then transferred his information to the new one. He was honest about everything else, from his career to his age, and chose all of the best pictures he could find. Then, he set himself as an Omega.

Tentatively, and with nervous, tingly fingers, Shang Qinghua started swiping on potential matches. Even though he was desperate for a date, Shang Qinghua was careful to choose only the men he was actually attracted to. It wouldn’t do to pimp himself out to any Alpha willing to look his way.

And within an hour, Shang Qinghua had a match.

A giddy rush surged through Shang Qinghua’s entire body, and he held his hand to his mouth to stifle an eager chortle. For a year, he hadn’t gotten any matches at all. And now, someone was interested in him—in the Omega version of him.

Maybe it was the delirium of staying up late at night. Or maybe it was his desperation to finally get laid for the first time in years. But in that moment, Shang Qinghua didn’t care about misrepresenting himself, or any of the potential repercussions. He messaged the guy right away, his mind overtaken by his suddenly bright dating future.

He’d get a taste of the good life, go on a few dates, then he’d delete the app altogether. It was just a bit of fun, after all.

Chapter Text

The present (the lie continues)…

This visit to the drugstore was a highly sensitive, covert operation. With his hood around his head, and a black medical mask pulled up over his nose and mouth, Shang Qinghua knew that he looked suspicious—but at least he would be hard to recognize.

As he slunk through the aisles, his sights set on the pharmacy counter at the back of the store, Shen Qingqiu trudged after him. He’d donned a disguise as well, but only because he “didn’t want to be seen with a crazy person.” The other man had errands to run—they were out of toilet paper and toothpaste again—and he reluctantly tagged along on Shang Qinghua’s mission to refill his prescription.

Shang Qinghua had a lot of practice ignoring his best friend’s bad attitude, so he employed that particular skill and kept his focus on the task at hand. This was, after all, a matter of reputation (critically important). If someone saw him picking up his rut suppressants, especially if it was a potential romantic prospect, his dating life would be over.

If Shang Qinghua could avoid these trips entirely, he would, but there wasn’t an option for him to get the suppressants mailed to his apartment. And he certainly couldn’t go without them. He needed a way to control his ruts, or else he’d have some explaining to do. He had a date this weekend, and he wasn’t about to let an unexpected rut ruin it.

The pretend-Omega peered around a shelf of condoms, waiting for the customer who was already being served at the pharmacy counter to walk away. As soon as there was an opening, Shang Qinghua would make a break for it, grab his refill, and book it out of here.

“Can I go on the record to say that this is stupid,” Shen Qingqiu commented as he walked up behind Shang Qinghua, toilet paper and toothpaste in hand. He’d split off to gather the items, and now he lurked over Shang Qinghua’s shoulder like an annoying second head.

“You can,” Shang Qinghua grumbled. “But I don’t care.”

“You look like you’re about to steal something.”

“Just be quiet.”

Shen Qingqiu did as he was told, but not without a deep, irritated huff. After a moment, he said, “I’m going to go pay,” before walking away.

Shang Qinqhua waved him off indifferently, still locked in on his task.

As soon as the other customer cleared away from the counter, Shang Qinghua leapt into motion. He scurried forward, and, without waiting to be greeted, rattled off his name, birthday, and prescription to the poor, surprised pharmacist.

She raised her eyebrows at him but turned around to grab the bag of medicine. She held it up, reading the label, presumably to check that this was the right prescription.

A spike of panic seared through Shang Qinghua’s heart and he snatched the paper bag from her grip. The pills clacked together and against their plastic tube inside. “Yes, thank you. I’ll also get these.”

On his way up to the counter, he’d grabbed scent patches. He was always running out of those at the worst times. It was lucky that Shang Qinghua’s natural scent was weak, but pheromone perfume only disguised so much.

Sensing his panicked rush, the pharmacist rang him up at lightning speed. The whole time, she kept eyeing him, like she was worried that he would attack her.

When Shang Qinghua paid and turned away, he could see her shoulders relax in the corner of his eye. With a small, relieved shake to her voice, she said, “Have a nice day, sir.”

Shang Qinghua made his exit as quickly as he could, without looking like he was doing something illegal. He kept his steps steady, and glued his gaze on the automatic doors.

He was almost out when he ran into a wall.

Shang Qinghua cursed himself for not paying attention to where he was going, and stepped back. As he rubbed at his sore nose, he realized, with a start, that it wasn’t a wall that he’d run into—it was a man.

The man in question was as sturdy as steel, and he darkened he doorway of the drug store like a bad omen. His black hair was long, pulled into a thick braid that was draped over his shoulder. Two, icy black eyes peered out from his handsome, pale features, and he seemed to tower as tall as the ceiling. His presence was imposing, and his strong, overpowering scent was almost enough to make Shang Qinghua shrink away.

This was an Alpha. And not just any Alpha—he was the walking definition of an Alpha.

He was the sort of Alpha that Shang Qinghua drooled over in his books, and fantasized about every time he rubbed one out. This was the kind of man whom everyone expected Shang Qinghua to be, and the kind of man he very much wasn’t.

Immediate lust and envy mixed into a confusing concoction in Shang Qinghua’s stomach. He wanted to kick this man in the shins, but he also wanted to climb him like a tree.

Quickly, he set aside his conflicted thoughts and summoned his most deferential smile. With a guy like this, it was better to just roll over and look cute.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Shang Qinghua was hyper aware of the medicine in his hand, but he was careful not to hide it, as that would only make him seem suspicious. There was nothing incriminating on the outside of the little paper bag. For all this hulking monster knew, he came in to pick up some antibiotics.

The stranger’s mouth deepened into a frown. “Watch where you’re going.” It was like he hadn’t even heard Shang Qinghua’s gracious apology!

With that unfriendly little demand, the tall man brushed past Shang Qinghua, as if he was completely invisible.

Shang Qinghua should have been relieved that he managed to avoid a conflict, but part of him was mad. That stupid man looked at him like he was nothing more than gum on his shoe, or a dead mouse on the street. There was nothing but disgust in his expression, and indifference in his words.

For anyone else, that interaction would have been grounds for a serious meet-cute, but for Shang Qinghua, it was only a source of embarrassment.

When Shang Qinghua finally walked outside, he was dragging his feet.

Of course, Shen Qingqiu noticed his suddenly bad mood and glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. He’d been leaning against the wall, looking at his phone, but he pushed himself upright and stepped closer. “You look like someone spit in your mouth.”

“Just shut up,” Shang Qinghua answered shortly. He yanked his mask down underneath his chin and gestured toward the parking lot. “Let’s get out of here before someone else sees me.”

Shen Qingqiu shrugged, then walked off toward his car. The two roommates were silent, but the peace broke as soon as they got into the vehicle.

As Shen Qingqiu started his engine, he decided to impart some more of his unwanted wisdom. “You can’t keep this up forever, you know. It’s a bad idea to pretend you’re something you’re not.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Shang Qinghua answered sarcastically. He rolled the window down, letting cool, crisp air into the car. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“I’m serious.”

“Of course you are.”

Wasn’t he always? Shen Qingqiu thought that he had everything figured out. He knew all of the right things and all of the right answers. Everyone else, compared to him, was stupid and in need of guidance. But Shang Qinghua wasn’t one of the high school students who he taught. He didn’t need to be told what to do.

“Alphas can be possessive and volatile,” Shen Qingqiu continued, ignoring his friend’s attitude. “What happens if one of these guys you’ve been seeing finds out that you’ve been lying to him?”

“That’s a stereotype,” Shang Qinghua argued. He turned to glare at Shen Qingqiu. “I’m not like that. Not every Alpha is weird and possessive and aggro like your boyfriend.”

Shen Qingqiu focused on the road for a moment, allowing silence to stretch between them. He did this sometimes, allowing a moment of quiet for Shang Qinghua to calm down. It was like he hoped that taking a breather would change the trajectory of their arguments, but this was one thing that Shang Qinghua was not willing to let go.

“You don’t have any right to tell me how to handle my love life,” Shang Qinghua barreled forward, shattering the thin silence and destroying Shen Qingqiu’s thin attempt at establishing a truce. “You’re Mr. Perfect. And you have the perfect mate. You don’t know what it’s like being me. So just leave me alone.”

Shen Qingqiu released a short sigh and shook his head. “Fine. But if you end up getting hurt, don’t come crying to me.”

“Why would I?” Shang Qinghua crossed his arms and grumpily turned once more to stare out the window.

Maybe he was being childish about this. Maybe he was being stupid. Pretending to be an Omega was definitely a really really really stupid decision. But this past year made him feel free. He could go out on dates for fun, and get what he wanted. It probably made Shang Qinghua a terrible person, but he was just having fun, like every other person around him got to do.

Soon enough, he would finally delete his Mate Match account, and then this era of his life would be over. It wasn’t a sin to enjoy it while it lasted, even if that meant telling a few lies along the way.

Chapter Text

So far, this date wasn’t even worth the shower that Shang Qinghua had taken beforehand.

The guy, Henry, was from America and he was in town for an all-expenses-paid business conference. He was older—in his 40s, and devastatingly handsome. He had almost-blond hair, and tasteful stubble. He wore a fitted suit, and splurged on a really nice cocktail bar downtown. It felt like the sort of scene that Shang Qinghua would swoon over in a romantic drama.

On paper, or rather on the app, Henry seemed like an absolute dream. And at first glance, this date was above and beyond. But now that Shang Qinghua had actually been talking to him for a while, he realized that Henry was a serious problem.

He had baggage, and he was a bit too handsy for Shang Qinghua’s comfort.

“After my fiancé called it off, I didn’t think I’d ever start dating again,” Henry lamented (he’d been talking about his ex for at least fifteen minutes straight). “But then I decided, fuck her. She’s a bitch. I can date if I want.”

“Right…” Shang Qinghua sipped his mint julep. He’d been nursing this one drink the whole night, since he wasn’t interested in getting drunk while on a date with a guy he didn’t like.

“She stole three years of my life,” Henry continued. He was already a bit drunk himself, and he was on his fourth whiskey sour. Most likely, was only going to get drunker as the night wore on. “Now here I am. Better than ever.”

Shang Qinghua managed a half-hearted smile. “Good for you.”

“Mmm. It is good for me,” Henry agreed with a sigh. He set his glass down and leaned in close, drawing his hand up Shang Qinghua’s spine.

Shang Qinghua shivered, but not because he liked it. He didn’t really want to be touched in public, but when he tried to move away, Henry only held him tighter around the waist.

“Good for me, especially when I get to go out with a pretty little thing like you.”

The over-eager man’s other arm snaked around Shang Qinghua’s shoulder. When he grabbed Shang Qinghua’s chin, he practically used all of his strength to turn his head toward him. Henry tried to press their lips together, but Shang Qinghua managed to resist just enough. He couldn’t pull away entirely, but he could at least prevent the unwelcome, drunken kiss.

This close, Henry’s natural scent stung Shang Qinghua’s nostrils. It was unattractive and damn near caustic.

“I should actually get going, I think.” Shang Qinghua wedged his hands up between their chests, trying to get enough leverage to peel their bodies apart.

The only thing he could think to do was lie. Usually, he was better at coming up with excuses to get out of terrible dates, but he’d never almost been assaulted before. Shang Qinghua’s mind was empty and ringing with fear. “My roommate needed some help tonight.”

Henry’s smile fell, and he kept holding on. “You’re lying… You just don’t like me.”

“I never said that,” Shang Qinghua argued, shaking his head desperately.

“Of course you don’t like me.” Henry pushed away and slammed his fist into the bar with vigor. Suddenly, he didn’t seem that handsome anymore. His eyes were bloodshot, and he shook with barely suppressed anger. “Nobody likes me. Old Henry is just shit out of luck, isn’t he?”

Shang Qinghua was at a complete loss for words. This guy was unraveling right in front of him, and he was almost too afraid to breathe.

Slowly, Shang Qinghua slid off of his bar stool, hoping to slip right past Henry and disappear like a memory into the night. But Henry was sharper than he looked.

He grabbed Shang Qinghua’s wrist and yanked him back. “You can’t leave. We haven’t finished our date.”

“I really have to go,” Shang Qinghua reiterated, using his entire bodyweight to keep some distance between him and Henry. Now, he really wished that he had some of that mythic Alpha strength. As it was, his weight was hardly enough, and Henry easily kept him in his hold.

“Stay.” Henry’s anger melted into a whimpering plea, and yet he still looked threatening. His grip tightened, squeezing the bones in Shang Qinghua’s arm together painfully. “I don’t want to be alone again. I’ll show you a good time…”

Shang Qinghua looked around at the patrons of the cocktail bar, hoping to catch someone’s eye. It was so dark in here, and so crowded that nobody even seemed to notice them. For a moment, Shang Qinghua wondered if he would have to entertain this bad date for the rest of the night.

But then, a huge hand sliced through the air between them, breaking the hold that Henry had on Shang Qinghua’s arm.

From this angle, Shang Qinghua couldn’t make out his savior’s face, but he took comfort in the man’s long, black, hair and broad shoulders. His smell was a bit familiar—almost like evergreen trees and winter spices—and drowned out Henry’s, which was quite weak in comparison.

The newcomer had a few centimeters on Henry, who was, according to his profile, 183 cm (so the stranger was maybe 188 cm or so). Despite the relatively minimal difference, somehow, the stranger managed to make the other man look tiny in comparison. Even without taking stature into account, his energy and presence, even from behind, was staggering.

Relieved, Shang Qinghua huddled for protection behind the mysterious person who had saved him. Maybe it was unmanly to cower like this, but Shang Qinghua didn’t give a shit about appearances. He knew when to make a strategic retreat, and when to rely on someone stronger to fight his battles.

Henry glared up at the interruption with a fantastic scowl. “Excuse me. We’re having a conversation.”

“No, you’re not,” the man answered evenly. There was no heat in his voice—only a terrible, indifferent hardness as cold as ice. “Leave.”

A chill worked its way up Shang Qinghua’s spine. That voice was a dream, deep and dark like bitter chocolate, but it was also alarmingly familiar. Where had he heard that voice before?

“I’m not going anywhere,” Henry argued. At this point, he was starting to slur his words. Apparently, his alcohol was catching up to him, and he wobbled as he hopped down from his barstool. For a moment, it looked like he was going to fall, but he righted himself by pressing a hand into the bar. “We’re on a date. Mind your business.”

Now that there were three people involved in the altercation, and two striking Alphas at that, the rest of the bar was suddenly paying attention. One of the mixologists inched closer, his hand wrapped around his cellphone, poised to call for help.

Henry took a bold, shaky step toward Shang Qinghua, but the stranger stopped him. He placed his broad hand on his chest, tilted his head, and closed a fist around Henry’s shirt. He lifted him slightly, forcing Henry up onto the balls of his feet, as if he weighed nothing.

“Do you want to stay with him?” the stranger asked, and it took a second for Shang Qinghua to realize that he was addressing him now.

“No,” Shang Qinghua answered quickly. “I just want to go home.”

The stranger nodded, then dropped Henry from his grip. “You’re blocking the bar.” He looked down his nose at the other man, like he was trash.

In his drunken state, Henry couldn’t catch himself very well, so he crumbled to his knees. Now, there was a healthy dose of fear in his expression, and he climbed to his feet with a bit of a struggle. His eyes darted from the towering man to Shang Qinghua, then he scoffed. “Fine. He’s ugly anyway.”

With that, Henry scrambled away. From this angle, he looked like a dejected little animal scurrying away into the woods. Clearly, in this food chain, the strange man had come out on top.

Shang Qinghua let out a breath, the fear turning to a cold drip in his stomach. He thought to look up at the man who had rescued him. “Thank you.”

Then, the man turned, and Shang Qinghua nearly passed out on the spot. It was the same man from the drugstore. His distinctive eyes bore into Shang Qinghua, drilling right down to his core. At the same time, his expression betrayed no recognition.

He offered very little acknowledgment as he turned to look at the bartender. He held up an empty glass—which he’d probably been holding through the entire interaction with Henry—and handed it to the still-shaken bartender. He didn’t say a word, and yet the mixologist poured him a vodka on the rocks like it was muscle memory.

The familiarity of the gesture, and the lack of conversation made Shang Qinghua think that this guy must have been a regular around here.

As he took a sip of his strong, clear drink, the mysterious man nodded questioningly at the bar, then glanced at Shang Qinghua. It took a moment for him to understand what the other man was implying. When he did, Shang Qinghua lifted his hands and shook his head.

“Oh, no. Thank you. I don’t want another drink,” he said, as politely as he could. He really did want to just go home after that major disaster. And, on top of that, it felt awkward to be around this man after he’d seen him picking up his medicine. There was no way for him to know what he’d been up to at the drugstore. So, even if he did recognize him, it wouldn’t matter. But still, the idea of it made Shang Qinghua jittery.

The other man shrugged, like he didn’t care (because he probably didn’t), and took Henry’s vacated seat at the bar. He didn’t make a move to go back to where he’d been sitting before, and it looked like he was here all alone.

“Bye…” Shang Qinghua said tentatively, after a moment, and the man nodded.

For a split second, Shang Qinghua felt bad for leaving. But he was exhausted. He needed to curl up under his covers for a few hours watching trash TV to recover.

As he turned to leave, he blocked Henry’s phone number, and blocked and unmatched him on the app. He was used to blocking people after dates, good or bad. It was Shang Qinghua’s signature maneuver. (It kept people from getting too close, or wanting more from him than just a one-night-stand and a nice date. Tonight, he’d gotten neither of those things, so he blocked Henry with particular zeal.)

Shang Qinghua reached the door, and as he pushed it open, he felt the sudden urge to look back at the bar. When he did, he found the mysterious man’s black ice stare fixed on him. He sipped his drink as they looked at each other, and Shang Qinghua swallowed a lump in his throat.

Eventually, Shang Qinghua yanked his gaze away and left the bar. But he still felt the other man’s gaze on him until he disappeared from view.

Chapter Text

Mate Match seemed to have served its purpose, and now it was only taking up free space on Shang Qinghua’s phone.

Maybe it was finally time to end this chapter of his life.

Shang Qinghua had hoped that the disaster date with Henry was a one-off sort of thing. After cleaning his hands of the whole affair, Shang Qinghua was ready to go back to his usual routine. But that first bad date seemed to be a death knell for his dating life.

He endured shitty date after shitty date, gritting through dinners and movies. One man was at least 20 years older than he claimed on his profile (he had grandkids). Another couldn’t get it up, and he spent the first ten minutes of their hookup crying into Shang Qinghua’s pillow.

This ill-advised plan was crumbling before Shang Qinghua’s eyes, and he didn’t know what else to do at this point. With all of these terrible prospects, Shang Qinghua was ducking out of more dates than he could count, and he hadn’t had sex in almost a month.

Shang Qinghua had been blocking so many people, he wondered if he’d thinned out his dating pool too much. Maybe Mate Match had finally run dry. But that seemed unlikely. This was a massive city, and there was no shortage of Alphas in his area.

Maybe, and this was the possibility that hurt the most, it was just Shang Qinghua. What if he just attracted the freaks? What if that was all he was good for?

As Shang Qinghua rotted in bed, his covers pulled up to his chin and his hood tugged around his head securely, his thumb hovered over the Mate Match icon. He didn’t want his adventure as an Omega to be over so soon. Once that app was gone, it would be back to lonely weekends eating snacks, watching movies, avoiding his roommate’s crazy boyfriend, and writing. He didn’t know if he was ready for that. But with how things were going… Shang Qinghua didn’t think he had much of a choice.

Reluctantly, Shang Qinghua opened the app. He would delete his profile, then delete the app. Within minutes, his Omega persona would be erased from the internet, reduced to a vague memory in the heads of the men whom he’d hooked up with.

The app was designed to take you directly to the homepage, where you could start swiping on potential matches right away. Shang Qinghua was about to blow right past it and access his profile, but his thumb froze in place before he could.

On the main page, right at the top of the pile, was a very familiar face. Shang Qinghua had only seen it twice in his life, but he wouldn’t soon forget it—frigid black eyes, pale skin, long hair cascading around broad shoulders.

It was that guy from before—the one who’d saved Shang Qinghua’s ass at the bar, and disregarded him so brazenly at the drugstore.

There were three pictures on the profile, and Shang Qinghua carefully considered each one.

The first was pretty close-up, of him glaring off to the side, looking just away from the camera. His black shirt was unbuttoned just enough to hint at the chiseled pecs hidden underneath, and his hair framed his severe face in a sleek, black waterfall. It was unclear where he was in the photo, but it looked like the sort of thing you’d see in an art gallery.

The next photo had been taken at a distance, and it looked candid, like the subject hadn’t known that the picture was being captured. He was surrounded by snow, bundled up for the cold and holding a snowboard in the crook of his arm as he fiddled with a pair of gloves. He stared down at those gloves with so much intensity that Shang Qinghua wondered if they’d personally offended him somehow.

The final picture showed the man in a suit. It was also candid, and he adjusted his cuffs in an easy, masculine gesture that almost made Shang Qinghua swoon on the spot. He looked like he was at some fancy party. But although the people around him were laughing and drinking and making merry, the subject of the photo looked like he was wishing he was literally anywhere else. There was something captivating about the unpleasant glower on his face.

With his phone so close to his eyes, Shang Qinghua could get a much better look at the details of Mobei-jun’s features than during either of the times they’d met before.

His nose was long and straight, shaped so finely that it looked like someone had lovingly sculpted it from stone. That mouth didn’t so much as hint at a smile in any of his pictures, giving him a rather cold, unfriendly countenance. Yet, Shang Qinghua felt as if the man was drawing him in.

At the same time, Shang Qinghua felt anger spasming up from somewhere deep inside him. This guy didn’t even need to smile in his photos to be naturally magnetic. He was probably so unpleasant, and yet he also likely had everything that Shang Qinghua didn’t. How many guys swiped on him every day, blinded by his looks?

After a moment, Shang Qinghua’s eyes flicked down to his name. “Mobei-jun,” he whispered out loud, hardly realizing that he was speaking at all. He bit down on his lip thoughtfully as he scrolled down to see the rest of the profile. It was a weird name, but it seemed to suit the chilly, formidable man perfectly well.

The rest of the profile was notably bare. All that Shang Qinghua could glean from it was a handful of informational tidbits.

Mobei-jun was an Alpha (duh), he was 29, he liked snow sports and cooking… And that was it. There was no information about an occupation, or a height. He hadn’t answered any of the optional questions like “What’s your biggest fear?” or “What is your secret skill?” It looked like he’d even forgotten to set his preferences too, so it was unclear if he was looking for an Omega or a Beta, or even if he liked men.

If Shang Qinghua didn’t already know that Mobei-jun existed, he would have thought that this was an obvious catfishing scam. But based on their two, brief interactions, the state of his profile seemed to line up with his personality.

It almost seemed like he’d started building the profile and stopped halfway. As it was, this man was even more of an enigma than Shang Qinghua had originally thought. He was like a shadow of a person, and still, his silhouette loomed in the corner of Shang Qinghua’s mind.

Before he could think it through, he swiped “Yes” on Mobei-jun, and he stared down at what he’d done with wide eyes. His body had moved on its own…

Shang Qinghua fumbled with his phone to unmatch, but a new message notification stopped him in his tracks. Apparently, Mobei-jun had matched with him too, and it opened up a new chat between the two of them. Shang Qinghua blinked down at the empty chat, waiting to see if Mobei-jun would send the first message, or if it was up to him.

Of course, there was still time to block him, but it felt wrong. After all, the guy had stepped in to help him out of a pinch, without even knowing him.

After a few minutes of nothing, Shang Qinghua decided to initiate the conversation. He sat up in bed with a sigh and propped his back up against the wall.

As he drafted message after message, he chewed absently on his thumbnail. Nothing he typed came out quite right, so he just settled for something a bit cheesy. Fancy meeting you here. He cringed the moment he sent it, but it seemed like an okay way to both say hello, and acknowledge that they sort of knew each other already.

It took a while for Mobei-jun to answer—just enough for Shang Qinghua to wonder if he was already being ignored. When he did message back, it was rather short and to-the-point, You’re from the bar.

That’s me.

And the drugstore.

Shang Qinghua’s breathing shallowed, and he peered uncertainly down at the new message. He’d hoped that he’d just faded away into the background during that incident, but apparently, Mobei-jun had a better memory than Shang Qinghua expected.

Also me, he confirmed. There was no point in denying it, was there? Doing so would only make him seem suspicious and shifty. If he just lied a little, he could get ahead of any skepticism about his shady behavior back then. Again, sorry for running into you. I was recovering from a cold. I wasn’t really myself.

It’s fine.

Hopefully that seemed natural… Shang Qinghua continued the conversation, the fear of being caught in his Omega lie lifting off his shoulders a bit, I’m flattered that you swiped yes on me. Even after you’ve only seen me at my worst.

The other half of the chat was silent for another long moment. Then, Mobei-jun answered, I’ll take you out.

For a split second, Shang Qinghua wondered if he was being threatened. Like, on a date? he clarified, even though he was mostly sure that it was what Mobei-jun meant. But with a big, scary guy like that, he could have also meant “I’ll take you out” as in “I’ll kill you.”

Yes.

You want to take me out on a date? Even though that was exactly what Mobei-jun meant, Shang Qinghua couldn’t exactly bring himself to believe it. He was able to scrape up some hot dates, but Mobei-jun was on a completely different plane of existence than the men that usually took Shang Qinghua out. He was a king amongst commoners—a god forced to walk on Earth with the generic, human populace.

Why would a guy like that want to take Shang Qinghua anywhere? Was the power of his Omega alter ego really that awe-inspiring?

That’s what I said. Mobei-jun’s answer seemed particularly impatient, so Shang Qinghua swallowed his doubt, lest he accidentally scare the biggest catch of his life away. It was probably a bad idea to go anywhere with Mobei-jun, but lust was a powerful self-motivator.

That would be great, Shang Qinghua answered quickly. He added a smiling emoji for good measure. Did you have anything in mind?

You choose, Mobei-jun typed. This Saturday.

Luckily, Shang Qinghua was free on Saturday, so he agreed.

He’d expected someone like Mobei-jun to decide every single aspect of a date (like Henry, and so many other men did), so he was pleasantly surprised that Mobei-jun gave him control. It was a lot of pressure, but Shang Qinghua had a good feeling about this date, even if Mobei-jun sort of scared the shit out of him.

After this, Shang Qinghua promised himself that he would call it quits. He would retire his disguise, and he would live the rest of life knowing that he was attractive enough for a god. Just one last hurrah with the most beautiful man in the world—only a fool would pass it up.

Chapter Text

Usually, choosing an outfit for a date was no big deal. But today, Shang Qinghua didn’t think that anything was good enough. Mobei-jun was so out of his league, so everything he put on his body felt just plain stupid.

After a while of trying and failing, Shang Qinghua decided that he needed a second opinion. He stripped off his plain, brown sweater and trotted down the hall to the living room.

It was a Saturday evening, but for once, Shen Qingqiu didn’t have his boyfriend over (at least, not yet). Instead, he was elbow-deep in work, grading papers on his laptop. His expression was pulled tight with focus, and he kept shaking his head slightly as he clacked away on his keyboard.

“Bad essays?” Shang Qinghua asked as he approached. He stood a few feet behind the other man, peering past him to squint at the screen. He hadn’t put his contacts in yet, so he couldn’t really see much.

“Understatement.” Shen Qingqiu turned around in his chair, then frowned at the sight of Shang Qinghua. “Why are you half naked?”

“I need your advice.” Shang Qinghua held up the garments that he was considering. He knew that he wanted to wear a sweater, since it was getting colder out, and the cinema always seemed to be freezing. He’d chosen to see a movie, so he didn’t want to spend the whole time uncomfortable. “What should I wear?”

The first sweater was the plain, brown one from before. There was nothing special about it, and it didn’t show Shang Qinghua’s personality at all. But it was reliable and fashionable, which seemed to line up with the limited idea Shang Qinghua had about Mobei-jun’s fashion sense. He’d seemed very uncomfortable in the suit in his photo, and both times they’d met before, the man was wearing a plain black tee, some sort of simple top layer, pants, boots, and some nice accessories to make it look like a proper outfit. He was the definition of simple yet fashionable. So this choice would probably appeal to him.

The second sweater was a bit more out-there, with a patchwork design made up of different complimentary colors and yarn textures. It was one of Shang Qinghua’s favorites, but he worried that it was a bit too wacky for a first date with someone like Mobei-jun. (Although, he still didn’t really know what kind of person he was at all. Just that he was intense, taciturn, and a little terrifying.)

Shen Qingqiu tried and failed not to roll his eyes. “I thought you didn’t want my advice.” Briefly, he took his glasses off and pinched his nose, like he had a headache.

“Stop being a baby.”

“Why are you even going on this date?” Shen Qingqiu asked. He pointed to the patchwork sweater before turning back around to look at his laptop. “Ever since you met him, you’ve only complained about him.”

That was true. It didn’t feel good going into this date with so little information. Shang Qinghua tried to locate Mobei-jun online somewhere (to do a little bit of light internet stalking), but he had no digital footprint besides his Mate Match profile. It was like going out with a ghost, and not being able to gauge Mobei-jun’s interests, dislikes, or background was nerve-wracking. How could Shang Qinghua hold a conversation with the guy when he didn’t exist?

Even so, Shang Qinghua was determined to make this date a successful one.

“Is it against the law to be curious?” Shang Qinghua wiggled into his sweater and smoothed it down over his chest. It was a bit oversized, and it made him feel very cute. Sexy wasn’t exactly his strength, so he usually aimed for adorable, and most people found that attractive anyway. Bagging someone who looked cute and innocent was almost as good as bagging someone with major sex appeal. “Besides, this will be my last date. I’m calling it quits. I just can’t walk away from the hottest man of all time.”

“He’s not that hot,” Shen Qingqiu muttered, and Shang Qinghua lifted his eyebrows.

Apparently, his friend had lost his mind. “Then I think you need to get new glasses.” But then again, Shen Qingqiu did prefer his men with curly hair and loose tear ducts.

“Whatever,” Shen Qingqiu dismissed him with a wave of his hand. But before Shang Qinghua could walk away to put in his contacts and do his hair, Shen Qingqiu added, “And take your medicine. Earlier, you smelled like sex.”

Shang Qinghua had already noticed that himself. For the past few days, he’d been hot and irritated—hornier than usual too. That was always a sign that he was in pre-rut, and he would have to take his medicine soon, lest it become a serious problem.

Before the rut blockers, he’d had a very regular cycle, going into rut every three months for about three days at a time. Now, it was a lot harder to predict, and Shang Qinghua had grown to be very careful. It also helped that Shen Qingqiu had learned to smell it on him.

His roommate didn’t approve, but he also didn’t want him giving himself away at an inopportune time.

“I’m all good,” Shang Qinghua assured his friend. “I already took them. And I’m putting on some extra patches and perfume. It’ll be alright.”

Shen Qingqiu didn’t say anything else, only sighed in obvious disapproval as Shang Qinghua left the room.

⭒˚｡⋆🖁

It was impossible to miss Mobei-jun’s striking form. When Shang Qinghua approached the movie theater, he spotted him right away, looming in front of the entrance with his head bent down. He was looking at his phone, and his hair cascaded down one side of his face, creating a sharp, black backdrop for his clear-cut profile.

There was something equally threatening and serene about his expression. People skirted around him on the street, and yet many of those same people seemed to be glued to his devastating form. Nobody dared get in his way, but everyone wanted to get a look at him.

Shang Qinghua couldn’t believe that he was about to go on a date with someone like that.

After a moment of hyping himself up internally, Shang Qinghua mustered a bright, demure smile. He approached Mobei-jun at a trot, raising his hand in greeting. “Hi, again! Were you waiting long?”

Mobei-jun was slow to look up from his phone. When he closed it and tucked it away, Shang Qinghua noticed that he was playing virtual mahjong, like someone’s grandfather. It was actually sort of charming, that he whittled his time away by playing a traditional game like that.

 “No,” Mobei-jun answered. And that was it. No hello. No formal introduction. He just turned to open the large glass door of the theater and waited for Shang Qinghua to enter. It was the strangest mix of courtesy and indifference.

“I hope you don’t mind seeing a movie,” Shang Qinghua chatted along, hoping to pick up the conversation a bit. If Mobei-jun didn’t want to talk, then he would just have to fill the silence. “It’s based on that really popular book, The Crimson Banner Waves. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

As the two men strolled up to a ticket kiosk, Mobei-jun shook his head. “What is that?”

Shang Qinghua blinked up at him in surprise. Everybody had heard of that book before. Even if they hadn’t read it, this film adaptation was one of the most anticipated movies of the year.

“You know…” Shang Qinghua started tentatively as he poked at that buttons on the screen. “Fantasy romance. Set during a hundred year war. A prince from a rogue shadow nation tries to kill an envoy from another country, but they end up falling in love? It won at least a dozen awards.”

There was no recognition at all in Mobei-jun’s steady expression. “I don’t read books.”

“Right…” Shang Qinghua sighed, but he managed to maintain his smile. Clearly, they didn’t have much in common… “Either way, I’ve heard good things about this movie. I hope you enjoy it, even if you haven’t read the book.”

Shang Qinghua reached into his pocket for his wallet, to pay for the tickets, but Mobei-jun tapped his card against the reader before he even had the chance. By the time Shang Qinghua realized what happened and started to protest, Mobei-jun was already walking away with the tickets in hand.

It took a bit of hopping to catch up with Mobei-jun’s long-legged stride, but Shang Qinghua managed to get back to his side. He started blabbering uncontrollably, “It was my idea to come here. I should pay. You haven’t even heard of this movie. It’s really okay-”

“I already paid,” Mobei-jun interrupted.

Shang Qinghua stared up at the other man, suddenly irritated about being cut off.

Maybe this really was a terrible idea. He considered leaving right in that moment. But then Mobei-jun glanced down at him, his dark irises cutting to the corner of his eye. The chilly stare kept Shang Qinghua glued to his side.

After a moment, Mobei-jun said, “It’s fair.”

Fair? Shang Qinghua tried to puzzle out what he meant by that. During their entire wait in the snack line, and while they were finding their seats, Shang Qinghua mulled it over.

Maybe it was “fair” because Shang Qinghua had been the one to put in the effort of planning the date? Or could it be that it was “fair” because Mobei-jun was the one to ask him out in the first place?

“Do you need to pee?” Mobei-jun suddenly asked, startling Shang Qinghua back to the present.

They were sitting in their seats, and the lights were dimming to black. The taller man had leaned in close to whisper in Shang Qinghua’s ear, so as not to disturb the other people in the theater.

Shang Qinghua flinched backward, pressing his hand down over his ear, which buzzed with Mobei-jun’s intimate whisper. “What?” he yelped quietly.

“Your face,” Mobei-jun explained. “You look like you need to pee.”

Shang Qinghua felt his eyebrow twitching, but he kept his expression pleasant.

This guy was something else. Asking questions like that on a first date… Who was he? He must have spent his entire life relying on his good looks, with complete disregard for propriety.

“No, I don’t need to pee,” Shang Qinghua mumbled. His tone bit more than he meant it to. Luckily, the movie was starting, so he focused his attention on the screen.

So far, this was shaping up to be one of his many disappointing dates of late. But he could get through it. At least he was actually seeing something that he was excited about… Even if tonight was a bust, and he went home as sexually frustrated as he left, the movie would help soften the blow.

⭒˚｡⋆🖁

“I can’t believe that has so many good reviews,” Shang Qinghua complained loudly as he stomped out of the theater. He threw the remainder of his drink into a trashcan, forgetting himself completely as he walked. “What was the director thinking? He probably hasn’t even read the books. He rewrote the entire ending! Now, there’s no way to make a movie franchise out of this. He’s absolutely ruined it. Just pissed all over a good thing and-”

Shang Qinghua continued raving and ranting as he stepped outside. The sun had set, and a pleasant chill had settled in the humid air.

It wasn’t until he felt the temperature change when he snapped back to his senses.

Shang Qinghua put a hand over his mouth, stopping himself in the middle of his complaint about the shitty soundtrack. His gaze jumped up to Mobei-jun, who was gazing down at him with those deep, dark eyes.

This was how Shang Qinghua talked when he saw a movie with Shen Qingqiu (who was nerdy enough to rant along with him sometimes), never when he was on a date. Mobei-jun had been so quiet the whole time that Shang Qinghua almost forgot who he was with.

“I’m sorry,” Shang Qinghua tried to salvage the cute, innocent, sweet persona that he’d adopted for this date. He shoved the real, undesirable version of himself—an irritable, slightly petty, whiner, with a potty mouth—as deep as it would go, and adopted a pleasant smile. “I didn’t mean to complain. Did you like it?”

Mobei-jun considered him for another moment, before shrugging his shoulder. “I don’t usually watch movies.”

“Wow.” Shang Qinghua laughed outwardly, but inside, he was cussing Mobei-jun out. If he had strong opinions about things like that, then why did he ask Shang Qinghua to plan the date? “I guess I really struck out, huh? You don’t like movies or books, and I took you to a movie based on a book!”

“I never said I didn’t like it.”

“Huh?” Shang Qinghua blinked. He tried to hide his confusion, but he sensed that it was still plain on his face. “But before… And just now-”

“I said I don’t,” Mobei-jun stated.

“But…” Wasn’t that the same thing?

“I would, if the book or movie was worth it.”

“Oh…” Shang Qinghua nodded. That made sense (in a way), but Shang Qinghua really wondered why this guy couldn’t speak in a more straightforward way. If he would just squeeze out a couple more words at a time, then he would be able to express himself properly.

“You like this book?” Mobei-jun asked. He started walking purposefully down the sidewalk, forcing Shang Qinghua to follow.

Shang Qinghua made himself smile again. This time, it was real.

He really did love the book. The movie was a disappointment, only because he held the series so fondly in his heart. He decided that, just for now, a little honesty was in order. “The series is really special to me. It actually inspired me to start writing, back when I was younger. I’m nowhere near that level, of course, but still.”

“Then I’ll read it.”

Surprised, Shang Qinghua almost came to a stop. “You want to?”

Mobei-jun nodded.

“Do you…” Shang Qinghua wasn’t sure what else to say. It was actually pretty sweet, that Mobei-jun wanted to read something just because he was excited about it. It didn’t seem to line up with the person whom Shang Qinghua had decided he was. Eventually, he managed to finish his thought, “Do you wanna borrow my copy of the first volume? So you don’t have to buy it before you know if you like it or not?”

Once again, Mobei-jun nodded.

“Great.” Shang Qinghua laughed a little, almost relieved. Most of his anxiety about Mobei-jun’s mysterious personality was suddenly gone. “Maybe we can meet up again, and I’ll give you the book later?”

“Give it to me now.” Mobei-jun suddenly stopped, and Shang Qinghua had to backtrack on the sidewalk a few steps. The tall, quiet man stood beside an exceptionally nice, black car. It unlocked at his touch, and he pulled open the passenger side door.

Shang Qinghua glanced down at the leather seat, confused for a moment. Then, he realized that Mobei-jun was offering to drive him home. Quickly, Shang Qinghua lifted his hand to wave off the gesture. “It’s alright. Really. I can get home myself.”

“Did you drive?”

At that, Shang Qinghua shook his head. He’d taken the bus. “I can’t actually drive… So-”

“Get in.” Mobei-jun still held the door, but his eyes narrowed slightly, hinting at his impatience. He wouldn’t ask again, and Shang Qinghua wondered if he would just toss him inside himself if Shang Qinghua had the nerve to deny him once more.

“Alright, then,” Shang Qinghua relented, and he ducked into the car without another word of protest. The last thing he wanted to do was end the day on bad terms. After all, going home together probably meant that sex was still on the table. Demanding the book now was probably an excuse to get to his place.

Their time together had been a bit awkward and stilted, but Shang Qinghua did enjoy himself, despite it all. Mobei-jun was sort of interesting, and he didn’t seem like a freak (in a dangerous way, at least). So he wouldn’t mind inviting Mobei-jun up for the night. It wouldn’t hurt to play along, if it meant that they could both finish this date off in a satisfying way.

The drive over to Shang Qinghua apartment was very quiet. The radio played music, but very faintly. Besides the barely audible drone of a random station, the silence was absolute.

Shang Qinghua watched Mobei-jun out of the corner of his eye, and he resented how, even just driving, he was drop-dead gorgeous. He managed to make operating a motor vehicle look like a thirst trap. Behind the wheel, Mobei-jun injected his masculine elegance into every single motion.

He sat there with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his knee. His long finger tapped his pants leg occasionally, and he stared out at the road with a placid, bored expression. Even his head checks sent a wave of lust through Shang Qinghua’s entire body.

When they arrived at the complex, Shang Qinghua lead Mobei-jun upstairs to his apartment. “It’s a bit dirty. We weren’t expecting visitors.”

Of course, Shen Qingqiu was sitting on the couch when they went inside. He must have invited Luo Binghe over at some point, because his shoes were by the door. For now, though, Shen Qingqiu sat on the cushions alone. He wore a robe, with probably nothing underneath, and he peered curiously over his glasses. It was all too clear that he was sizing Mobei-jun up with those prying eyes of his.

“The book is in my room.” Shang Qinghua kicked off his shoes and started off toward his bedroom. He pointedly ignored Shen Qingqiu’s gaze. It would be best to get out of the way, do what he wanted with Mobei-jun, and avoid his roommate’s impromptu date night.

Shang Qinghua was a few steps away when he realized that Mobei-jun wasn’t following him. He turned around and noticed that the other man hadn’t even taken off his shoes, or his jacket. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking at the framed art on their walls.

“Are you coming?” Shang Qinghua asked. He gestured toward the hall on the other side of the living room. “It’s this way.”

“Bring it here,” Mobei-jun said, still showing no interest in actually coming inside. He stood like a statue in front of the door, his shoes planted firmly on the wooden floor of the entryway.

“You… don’t want to come in?” Shang Qinghua wondered if he’d somehow read this situation all wrong. Why else would a date escort him home? Was the book not an excuse to get in his pants?

“I have to go home.”

Shang Qinghua’s teeth clenched together so hard, he swore he heard his molars crack. It was bad enough that he was being rejected like this, but it was even worse that Shen Qingqiu was sitting right there.

After a moment, Shang Qinghua managed to steady himself. He forced a smile. “Of course. I’ll just get that book for you.”

He tried not to pout as he walked away, and it took a lot of self-discipline not to drag his feet. He retrieved the book from his bookcase, then came back to hand it over to Mobei-jun. Shang Qinghua’s plastic smile was still intact as he said, “Take good care of it. I hope you like it. Of course, it’s only one in a trilogy.”

Mobei-jun tucked the hardcover under his arm, and nodded. He offered a short farewell before opening the front door and letting himself out.

Shang Qinghua was left standing there, positively dumbstruck.

From the couch, Shen Qingqiu hummed. He didn’t utter a word, but Shang Qinghua shot him a glare to cut him off anyway.

“Just focus on your boyfriend,” Shang Qinghua spat before turning sharply on his heel and stalking away to his bedroom once again. He slammed the door, loud enough that the neighbors would definitely want to complain about it.

Shang Qinghua wrestled his way out of his sweater, spiking it to the floor like a little kid having a temper tantrum. His cheeks and neck burned crimson.

He’d never been rejected like that, and so boldly. It was enough to make him want to curl up and die. He thought that he looked cute, and that he’d made a good impression. But maybe his tirade at the end of the movie turned Mobei-jun off? But then why would he drive Shang Qinghua all the way home?

It didn’t make sense!

Shang Qinghua dug his phone out of his pocket, ready to delete Mate Match once and for all (he could take a hint). But when he opened the app, he found a message waiting for him.

Anger, confusion, and embarrassment still buzzed in his chest, but he was able to calm down just long enough to open the chat. It was Mobei-jun.

I’ll return the book when I’m done.

Shang Qinghua furrowed his brow and sat down on the edge of his bed.

Of course he would return the book. That made this even worse! Now, he’d have to face the man who rejected him again, just to get his stupid book back. Maybe it was better to just buy a new copy entirely. (But that was a signed version, so that really wasn’t an option…)

That’s fine. Shang Qinghua brought his hand to his mouth and chewed absently on his pointer-fingernail. He considered following up, and he did, hoping to cover his ass and save himself some embarrassment, I’m sorry if the date wasn’t good. I’m not used to planning like that.

For the next ten minutes, Shang Qinghua’s eyes were glued to his phone as he waited for Mobei-jun’s response. When it came, Shang Qinghua felt like his brain was going to explode. This man really was confusing.

It was fine.

If it was so “fine,” then why didn’t he come inside like he was supposed to? Of course, Shang Qinghua couldn’t just ask outright why Mobei-jun hadn’t slept with him, but he was filled with a sudden conviction. He wouldn’t give up yet. His pride wouldn’t allow it.

Okay, then. Why don’t we make our next meeting a date too? You choose the place this time. When read in a certain tone, the message sounded like a challenge, but Shang Qinghua hoped that it didn’t come off that way.

There was hardly any time before Mobei-jun’s next response, Alright.

Shang Qinghua smiled to himself, his lips curling almost sinisterly.

If Mobei-jun wanted to play hard to get, then Shang Qinghua would play. He’d always been a patient person, and he would wait. There was no way he would let his last hurrah as an Omega fizzle like this.

His honorable persona deserved to go out with a bang.

Chapter Text

Since Shang Qinghua told Mobei-jun to message when he was done reading the book, he wasn’t exactly surprised that he hadn’t heard from him for a week and a half. But it was just enough time for Shang Qinghua to start worrying if he’d ever get his book back at all.

This whole thing was a major test of his patience, but he managed to keep himself calm. He focused on other things, like work and writing his manuscript, and he hardly thought about Mobei-jun at all (no more than a couple hours a day, at most).

When the next message from Mobei-jun did come in, Shang Qinghua was in the middle of taking the trash out to the dumpster behind the apartment. The bag was particularly heavy today for some reason (probably because he and Shen Qingqiu were both busy with work and hadn’t been cooking at home as much lately, so they were relying on takeout and food delivery apps for a week), and it took both hands, and all of his strength to drag it into the alley.

Shang Qinghua didn’t notice the notification until he was checking his phone during the elevator ride back upstairs. When he did, his heart leapt into his throat and pounded against his collarbone. He swallowed it back down as he opened Mate Match.

I’m done, Mobei-jun wrote. There was no indication of whether he enjoyed the book, or even if the book was what he was talking about.

Shang Qinghua had to assume that he meant the book, and not that he was done with their brief, non-existent relationship already.

How did you like it? Shang Qinghua answered, biting his nails as he stepped off the elevator. He walked slowly down the hall to his front door, focused more on his screen than where he was actually going.

I’ll tell you on our date, was Mobei-jun’s astute response.

Shang Qinghua lingered outside of his apartment. He was smiling to himself without realizing it, and when he did, he forced his mouth down into a frown. He refused to find Mobei-jun’s taciturn, straight-forward nature cute. The guy had snubbed him, and he was only in this to prove a point.

I assume you have something planned, Shang Qinghua typed, his tone almost teasing. After all, he’d asked Mobei-jun to brainstorm their next date idea. It felt good that the onus was on him this time—like some pressure was lifted off Shang Qinghua’s shoulders.

Today. At two. Mobei-jun then promptly sent a location.

Shang Qinghua recognized the address as the park near his apartment. It was a big, open place, with lots of foot traffic and a nice lake with benches. Usually, a park would feel like an unsafe place to go out with a man he barely knew, but everything seemed up to code.

I’ll be by the lake, Mobei-jun added.

I’ll meet you there.

Shang Qinghua unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment, certain that this was the end of their conversation, but then his phone dinged again.

Mobei-jun had one final thing to say, apparently, What hot drinks do you like?

This weirdo couldn’t seem to follow a distinct train of thought. Maybe it had to do with his apparent inability (or disinterest) in communicating like a normal human being. Despite the strange, random question, Shang Qinghua humored him. I love hot chocolate. But I’m lactose intolerant so I get it with oat milk when I can. (Soy milk if they don’t have it.)

Shang Qinghua waited for another moment, wondering if Mobei-jun would say anything else to acknowledge his answer. But there was nothing—the chat was perfectly silent.

Despite Shang Qinghua’s hopes to not get attached or feel affection for Mobei-jun, he felt a smile wiggle its way out of confinement. With a huff through his nose and a shake of his head, Shang Qinghua went into the apartment to plan for his unexpected date.

⭒˚｡⋆🖁

In the bright light of day, Mobei-jun looked like a smudge of shadow. He wore a black coat, and dark pants, and dark boots. From head to toe, he was swathed in darkness.

It was freezing out, even though it was still only autumn, but Mobei-jun seemed underdressed for this cold. Shang Qinghua wondered if he had a high tolerance for cooler temperatures, or if he was just bad at planning for the weather.

“You’re early,” Shang Qinghua called as he approached, lifting his hand to greet Mobei-jun when he turned to look at him.

Shang Qinghua was much more bundled up, wearing a light blue sweater under a coat, with a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. Usually, he didn’t have to get all dressed up like this until it was at least halfway through December, but this sudden cold snap promised an unusually harsh winter.

“I was nearby.” Mobei-jun turned his body all the way around, and Shang Qinghua saw that he was holding two steaming to-go cups. He held one out to Shang Qinghua.

When he hesitated, Mobei-jun forced it into his hovering palm. The cup was immediately warm in Shang Qinghua’s hand, and he curled his fingers around it gratefully. He brought it to his lips and took a cautious sip, afraid of burning his tongue, and smiled as he tasted the liquid chocolate inside. “You didn’t have to buy this for me.”

“It’s cold,” Mobei-jun answered, by way of a proper explanation.

“Well, I appreciate it.” Shang Qinghua raised his cup in cheers, before asking, “What did you get?”

“Black coffee.”

“That makes sense.”

Mobei-jun narrowed his eyes at him, looking almost irritated for a moment. “What?”

With a nervous chuckle, Shang Qinghua decided that it was best to redirect the conversation. He didn’t want to explain how he’d been trying to pin down Mobei-jun’s personality, and that him drinking bitter black coffee tracked almost laughably with his assessment so far.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Let’s talk about the book.”

Mobei-jun nodded, and he produced the novel in question from a hidden pocket inside his sleek jacket. Shang Qinghua could only assume that the garment was expensive, judging by how impeccably tailored and pristine it was.

The two sat on a nearby bench, facing the wide, rippling lake. It wasn’t quite cold enough to freeze the water, but Shang Qinghua was willing to bet that, soon enough, half of it would be ice.

Shang Qinghua glanced at Mobei-jun, expecting him to initiate the conversation. Instead, he just stared back at Shang Qinghua. After a moment, Shang Qinghua put them both out of their awkward misery and said, “Let’s start with the easiest question. Did you like it?”

Mobei-jun nodded.

“What did you like about it?”

Mobei-jun’s eyes rolled upwards toward the sky, and for a moment, it looked like he was annoyed about having to answer Shang Qinghua’s question. That couldn’t have been it though, since it was Mobei-jun who invited him out to talk about it. After a moment, he said, “The characters.”

Shang Qinghua managed a smile, despite the impatience twitching in his gut. Talking with Mobei-jun was like coaxing a child to work on difficult homework. But at the same time, Shang Qinghua really wanted to hear what he had to say. “Which one was your favorite? And why?” Maybe if he tried asking layered questions, it would invite Mobei-jun to say more with less prompting.

Mobei-jun was quiet again for a long while, and his expression was intensely pensive. Eventually, he decided on his answer, “The envoy.”

“Li Shan?”

Mobei-jun nodded. He didn’t immediately answer the second half of Shang Qinghua’s question, and he wondered if he needed to remind him. But then, he added, thoughtfully, “He’s loyal to the prince, even if everyone hates him for it. He loves him, even if it’s a bad idea.”

Shang Qinghua had been trying to tease out longer sentences from this man the whole time, but now that’s actually done it, he could barely contain his surprise. The string of words was long and coherent, and Shang Qinghua almost forgot to answer. It was only when Mobei-jun glared at him that Shang Qinghua quickly said, “That’s why I like him too! Although, the prince is my favorite character.”

Mobei-jun lifted a brow, and although his expression was controlled, his judgment was obvious.

“What?” Shang Qinghua laughed, taken aback by his reaction. “You don’t like the prince?”

“He’s a coward,” Mobei-jun answered distastefully as he sipped his drink.

“Well, maybe that’s why I like him.”

When Mobei-jun offered him a bemused glance, Shang Qinghua took it as an invitation to explain, “He’s scared, but he still does the difficult things in the end. Maybe he whines and cries about it, but he’ll always help out where he can.”

Mobei-jun let out a grumbling hum in consideration. Then, he said, “Do you find that relatable?”

His tone was damn near playful, and Shang Qinghua almost fell face-first off the bench. His undereye twitched as he tried to maintain his smile. He didn’t think that Mobei-jun was capable of banter. “I don’t whine.”

“Not with me,” Mobei-jun said, shrugging. Obviously, he was implying that Shang Qinghua behaved that way with other people. Of course, that was true, but there was no way Mobei-jun would know that. After a moment, Mobei-jun added, with a shrug, “If you are like the prince, you don’t have to hide it.”

Shang Qinghua’s chilly fingers tingled with discomfort. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore, so he clumsily moved on, “Anyway… Now that you’ve read the book, what do you think about the movie?”

Mobei-jun considered this for a moment as he spun his cup in his large palm. “The book is better.”

At that, Shang Qinghua grinned, toothy and genuine. He was vindicated in his dislike, despite all of the idiots online praising the film for its “artistic interpretation” of the source material. “Right? It sucks. They didn’t even make the romance canon in the movie. Making their relationship a close brotherhood? The director was just a coward. If you’re not ready to put two men kissing into your movie, then don’t adapt a book about gay people.”

Shang Qinghua hardly registered that he was speaking more crassly than he wanted to around Mobei-jun. But even when he did, he didn’t try to correct himself. Mobei-jun was nodding along, like he agreed with every word he said.

“There are more?” Mobei-jun asked once Shang Qinghua had finished his rant. He handed the book over, and Shang Qinghua tucked it under his arm for safe-keeping.

“Yeah. You wanna read the rest? It’s the first in a trilogy.”

“Can I borrow them?”

Shang Qinghua hesitated for a moment, fiddling with the lid of his hot chocolate as he mulled everything over. He’d planned on getting his book back, convincing Mobei-jun to come to his place for some afternoon sexy time, then ghosting the guy entirely. But after this conversation, he was sort of eager to talk with him more. Suddenly, getting Mobei-jun into bed seemed a lot less important than it had been earlier.

“Of course,” Shang Qinghua agreed. He would just let Mobei-jun get through the whole series, then they would have sex. Then, Shang Qinghua would break it off.

It was just a few more steps in his plans (and he would have been an absolute monster if he didn’t let Mobei-jun read the rest of a trilogy that he was now interested in. As a book lover, that would just be cruel and unusual). “I should probably drop this off anyway. You can come with me, and I’ll give you the rest?”

“You want to end the date?” Mobei-jun asked, and there was something almost dejected in his tone, although it came off more as harsh disbelief than anything else.

“Oh, well…” Shang Qinghua shrugged sheepishly. “Not necessarily, I guess? I just figured… Since we’re done talking about the book…”

“We’ll drop by yours,” Mobei-jun stated, “then we’ll get lunch.”

Shang Qinghua didn’t have to check the time to know that it was a bit late for lunch. Even so, he found himself agreeing. After all, the more time they spent together, the more likely Shang Qinghua would be successful in seducing Mobei-jun.

⭒˚｡⋆🖁

Somehow, their lunch turned into spending the entire day together, and Shang Qinghua didn’t get home until after seven. They hadn’t done much, just talked (Shang Qinghua did most of the talking), and visited a few stores in the same area as the restaurant. It was as awkward as ever, but Shang Qinghua actually had a lot of fun—more than he’d ever had on any other date.

There was something about Mobei-jun’s intense, unwavering presence. He was like a weighted blanket in human form. The pressure could have been overbearing, but it made Shang Qinghua calm, at times. He really wasn’t all that scary.

Mobei-jun walked Shang Qinghua home, then left with the books. Shang Qinghua promised, while the other man was on his way out the door, that they would be in touch to discuss the rest of the series.

As Shang Qinghua closed the door, he was acutely aware of the butterflies fluttering in his tummy. Mobei-jun was interested in his favorite book series, and he didn’t let Shang Qinghua spend a single dollar while they were out together.

Under any other circumstances, this would have been ridiculously romantic. But Shang Qinghua couldn’t reconcile the tender treatment with Mobei-jun’s rough personality. And, besides, he was only in this for one thing. None of this was real.

But it didn’t hurt to be treated like he was worth a little bit of effort and time, did it? Literally no one he’d dated, even the rare gems before he started this charade, had never shown him that much common courtesy.

Was it a crime to feel wanted? To get something a little bit more out of this than just a one-night-stand?

When Shang Qinghua unlocked the door to his apartment, he looked around for Shen Qingqiu, self-conscious and hyper-aware of his judgment.

Although he thought that he was in the clear as he crept toward his room, the other man swung his door open with a sigh. He stared down his nose at Shang Qinghua before saying, pointedly, “Second date?”

Shang Qinghua turned red down to his collarbones and took another step towards the sanctuary of his bedroom. “Is that any of your business?”

“I thought you were done with him,” Shen Qingqiu mused, as if he didn’t already harbor opinions about his roommate’s decisions (he always had opinions). He brushed a bit of lint off of his oversized t-shirt. “Done with dating… ‘Calling it quits,’ I think is what you said.”

“Are you incapable of minding your own business?” Shang Qinghua ran his hand back through his hair and rolled his eyes. His contacts were dry, and he just wanted to take them out. “He was just returning my book.”

He intentionally hadn’t told Shen Qingqiu about meeting up with Mobei-jun again, because he knew that this would be the reaction. But earlier, when Mobei-jun came in to get the rest of the books, Shen Qingqiu had been right there, as usual, sitting on his ass in the middle of the apartment. If only it had been a week day. Then he would have been at work, and Shang Qinghua wouldn’t have had to listen to what he had to say.

Shen Qingqiu lifted his brow and tapped his chin in an exaggerated thinking gesture. “Is that so? And that took…” He checked his phone time for emphasis. “Five hours?”

“We got food,” Shang Qinghua confessed. “Alright? Then we window shopped. It’s not that big a deal.”

“I see.” Shen Qingqiu nodded. “So you told him that you’re done, right?”

At that, Shang Qinghua bit on the inside of his lip as he cringed away under his friend’s scrutiny. “Well, he has to return the new books I gave him. So I’ll see him one more time, at least.”

Shen Qingqiu had been acting smug, but now his mood seemed to droop. He leaned against the doorjamb and took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’re really something else… You’re the one who said you only wanted something casual, aren’t you.”

“It’s still casual,” Shang Qinghua argued, but the look on Shen Qingqiu’s face made him bite his tongue.

“You’re not being careful,” Shen Qingqiu scolded him, and he really sounded like an irritated, fretful parent. “We both know that you can’t afford to actually get attached to anyone. Or have you forgotten-”

Shang Qinghua rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively in Shen Qingqiu’s face. “I know exactly what I am and what I’m not. How many times are we going to have this conversation?”

“Until you accept that you can’t keep lying like this,” Shen Qingqiu persisted. “Mobei-jun might be interested in you now, but what happens when he finds out that you’ve been misrepresenting yourself deliberately all this time? Does he seem like the understanding type?”

“Why can’t you just let me have this?” Shang Qinghua raised his voice. They didn’t usually fight like this. It was always banter—playful arguing and friendly jabs—but lately, Shang Qinghua didn’t have the patience. “For once, a guy actually wants to take me out and treat me well. Even if he’s a bit rough, I think he actually likes me. I know it’s stupid, and I know I have to cut it off eventually. But for right now, why can’t you just let me have this?”

Shen Qingqiu listened to Shang Qinghua with a pulled expression. But eventually, his mouth softened. He still looked stern, like the up-tight teacher he was, but he didn’t look poised for a battle anymore. “Fine. I’ll stop bothering you about this.”

“Thank you,” Shang Qinghua breathed. “I know you don’t get it, but I can protect myself. I’m not a complete fuck up.”

Shen Qingqiu only sighed in response. He patted his friend on the shoulder, then retreated back into his room. When he closed the door, Shang Qinghua leaned back against the wall, his bones practically melting as the adrenaline left his body.

He realized that he was dangerously close to crying, and he scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve until they were red and blurry. He stalked back to his room.

When Shang Qinghua threw himself down on the mattress. He closed his eyes and stared at the darkness, trying to ignore the anxiety swirling around in his chest.

The worst part was that Shang Qinghua knew Shen Qingqiu was right. Every time he brought this topic up, he was right. It would have been wise to call these dates off with Mobei-jun. It would have been wiser to drop his act entirely. But what would honesty mean, if he did tell the truth?

Would Mobei-jun hate him? Would Mobei-jun hurt him? Shang Qinghua didn’t think he would, but there was no way to be sure. It was hard to predict the reactions of a guy who barely spoke. Shang Qinghua didn’t think he wanted to find out…

So, he promised himself something: He would never tell Mobei-jun the truth. He’d come up with an excuse to make a clean cut. And he’d keep this lie to himself. No matter how good it felt to be wanted, he would end things as soon as he had his books back—for real this time!

Chapter Text

Being invited over to Mobei-jun’s house felt like a really big step, and Shang Qinghua still wasn’t sure if he wanted to take it. It was kind of too late now, since he was standing outside of the over-large building already, staring up at it like an idiot. But maybe there was still time to lie about being sick.

When Mobei-jun first extended the invitation, Shang Qinghua’s curiosity got the better of him. He’d planned on just meeting the guy on neutral ground, to get his books back and break it off, but Shang Qinghua was overtaken by the need to snoop in Mobei-jun’s home.

Over their last few meetings, Shang Qinghua had managed to scrape together a loose understanding of Mobei-jun, including a suspicion that he was very wealthy. Judging by his apparent interest in winter sports (which the man had yet to express outside of his profile), his willingness to pay for literally everything, and his expensive clothes, Shang Qinghua was pretty sure that the dude was loaded.

The sprawling ridiculousness of his house only served to confirm Shang Qinghua’s theory. It was a sleek building, with a lot of glass and minimalistic landscaping on the front lawn and walkway. Like with Mobei-jun’s fashion and car, his house somehow managed to strike a perfect balance between simple and lavish. The cleanliness of it all was what made it seem expensive, even without all of the typical accoutrements that one would expect.

As Shang Qinghua stood there, taking everything in with wide eyes, the front door abruptly swung open. Mobei-jun stood there in the threshold, staring down at Shang Qinghua like a grim reaper beckoning him to his doom.

“Are you coming?” Mobei-jun demanded. It sounded like he was calling a misbehaving dog to heel. And because Shang Qinghua was spineless, he walked the rest of the way up to the house, taking the stairs to the porch, and parked right in front of Mobei-jun.

“Sorry,” Shang Qinghua said sheepishly. He adopted his demure little smile and glanced up at the taller man. “I was just surprised by how big your place is. My apartment looks like a shack in comparison.”

“It does,” Mobei-jun agreed. His harsh honesty was almost startling, but Shang Qinghua couldn’t exactly be surprised. The guy was just like this. It was baffling at times, but Shang Qinghua was learning to understand him.

Mobei-jun stepped aside, gesturing impatiently for him to come inside.

When Shang Qinghua did cross through the door, he did his best not to gawp at the interior. The ceilings were high, and light streamed in from every direction. Like outside, there was nothing too over-the-top about the décor, but it was nice, neat, and intimidating.

“How do you get to live in a place like this?” Shang Qinghua tried to sound indifferent, but he really wanted to know. He took off his shoes and his jacket, and set them by the door where Mobei-jun indicated. “You must make a lot of money.”

Shang Qinghua followed Mobei-jun deeper into the house and they passed rooms and minimalistic wall art that probably cost more than Shang Qinghua’s entire annual rent. A closet near the front door was ajar, revealing a large, dark space filled with coats, shoes, and at least one stashed snowboard.

“I don’t work,” Mobei-jun said. “The house belongs to my father.”

The muscle under Shang Qinghua’s eye twitched involuntarily. He’d just unearthed some crucial information, and it irritated him to no end. Mobei-jun was a rich kid, and he had who knows how much family wealth at his disposal. It explained most of his whole deal—from the willingness to foot the bill, to his bizarre inability to socialize like a normal human. He’d never learned to interact with others because he could make his money and looks talk for him.

Maybe it wasn’t a completely fair assessment of who Mobei-jun was, but it definitely painted a clear picture. Without thinking, Shang Qinghua muttered, “So, it’s Daddy’s money.” It was the real parts of his unpleasant personality coming out, and he quickly shut his trap, hoping that Mobei-jun hadn’t heard him.

But of course, Mobei-jun turned and shot him a stern, inquisitive look.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” Shang Qinghua quickly backtracked. He’d really stepped in it now. “I just-”

“Don’t lie.”

Shang Qinghua stopped cold. Obviously, being accused of lying was pretty terrifying. But luckily, Mobei-jun didn’t mean the thing about actually being an Alpha. After controlling the shake in his voice, Shang Qinghua asked, “What do you mean?”

“You did mean to say it,” Mobei-jun stated. “Just say it.”

Shang Qinghua hesitated, and he was quiet as Mobei-jun lead him into the living room. The books he’d borrowed sat on the glass coffee table.

Mobei-jun wanted him to be honest about how he felt. But that meant Shang Qinghua would have to expose the worst parts of his personality. The only person who got the unadulterated version of him was Shen Qingqiu, and that was only because they’d been friends since high school.

“I mean…” Shang Qinghua sighed, relenting. He let his smile drop too. It Mobei-jun had already sniffed out that he was playing it up for him, then it would only be awkward if he kept on like this. “Sorry. It’s just…”

Mobei-jun sat down, crossing one leg over the other. He watched Shang Qinghua with a steady gaze.

“It’s a little infuriating,” Shang Qinghua tried to lighten it with a laugh. “You don’t work, and you live in this big house. I work my ass off, and I can barely afford an apartment with a functioning toilet.”

It actually sort of felt good to lay down his mask. Maybe it would hurt his chances at seducing Mobei-jun, once he saw how shitty Shang Qinghua’s real personality was, but it was exhausting to smile all the time. Acting cute and innocent and ditzy was actually horrible. The person Shang Qinghua became when he was trying to get a guy was actually someone he would want to hit with a car. (He didn’t really like this version of himself either, but at least it didn’t take any effort.)

“You can’t afford your rent?” Mobei-jun asked.

“No, it’s fine.” Shang Qinghua shook his head. Suddenly, he felt bad for being so honest. After all, it wasn’t Mobei-jun’s fault for being loaded, and he really wasn’t all that obnoxious about it. “Since I have a roommate, it’s not as bad. I’m just being dramatic.”

“I could pay it.”

Shang Qinghua stared, bewildered for a moment, a blank smile hovering on his lips. After a moment, he broke out into a laugh. “Do you offer to pay the rent of every man you meet?” This had to be some sort of romantic tactic. Maybe Mobei-jun was secretly interested in a sugar baby situation?

Mobei-jun’s expression was grim as he pinned Shang Qinghua down with his eyes. “Only you.

The sincerity in his words abruptly robbed Shang Qinghua of his mirth, and he blinked a few times as he regained his senses.

Mobei-jun actually intended to pay his rent for him. It was a tempting offer (and he wasn’t too proud to exploit it), but Shang Qinghua could only imagine the sort of scolding he’d get from Shen Qingqiu if he accepted. After all, he was supposed to be breaking up with Mobei-jun, not using him as a personal bank.

“Thanks for the offer,” Shang Qinghua said. It took all of his willpower to say no, and he did so with a sigh. “But we’re good.”

Mobei-jun nodded, and he leaned forward to pick the books up from the coffee table.

“You wanna talk about the rest of the series?” Shang Qinghua asked. He walked around to sit next to Mobei-jun on the couch as he answered yes. “Now that you’ve read the whole thing, do you have a favorite part?”

Shang Qinghua expected Mobei-jun to talk about an action scene, or maybe the part where the prince and the envoy conspire to kill the dark emperor. Instead, Mobei-jun said, “When they eloped.”

Mobei-jun didn’t seem like much of a romantic. (Just based on his inability to sweet-talk, and his stoicism on dates.) It was hard not to stare at him. “That’s… unexpectedly cute.”

Mobei-jun said nothing in response to that, only met Shang Qinghua’s eye and stared into his soul.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Shang Qinghua added quickly, before Mobei-jun could get mad at him. “It’s a good part.”

After a while of silence, Shang Qinghua smiled. He was genuinely happy that Mobei-jun liked the books, and that he actually read them through. But there was also a hint of sadness in Shang Qinghua’s mood.

Now that Mobei-jun was done with the trilogy, there was no reason to keep talking to him. Shang Qinghua had promised himself that he would end this, right after he got his books back. And now, the books were here.

It was over.

Shang Qinghua let his smile drop, then sighed deeply. “Listen… I’m glad you liked the books. Thanks for returning them. But I was thinking… We probably shouldn’t-”

Just as Shang Qinghua was about to deal the killing blow to their budding relationship, the doorbell rang. Mobei-jun stood, like Shang Qinghua wasn’t in the middle of letting him down gently, and walked off to answer.

He was back in a couple minutes, holding two takeout bags in one hand. He held a pair of boba teas in his other hand, the cups perched precariously on top of a few, ceramic plates. He must have taken a detour to the kitchen on his way back to grab utensils.

“What…” Shang Qinghua watched, mouth agape, as Mobei-jun set down the stuff and started unloading the bags. There were a few different kinds of noodles, sides, and desserts. There was way too much food for two people. “What is all this?”

“Food,” Mobei-jun answered. He glanced at Shang Qinghua like he was stupid. “I ordered it.”

“I know it’s food.” Shang Qinghua rolled his eyes while the other man’s back was turned. “But why?”

“You said you liked noodles,” Mobei-jun explained. Shang Qinghua didn’t think he ever told him anything like that, but then he realized that he’d answered a question on his Mate Match profile about his favorite food.

Shang Qinghua scootched uncertainly to the edge of the couch and eyed the steaming containers of food. “It all looks really good. Thanks.”

It also looked really expensive, but Shang Qinghua decided not to say that part out loud. Even though he was being more honest about his personality, he still didn’t want to sound resentful. After all, it was Mobei-jun’s money paying for good food. He’d be a dumbass to turn his nose up at being pampered.

Mobei-jun held up both of the drinks as he sat back down next to Shang Qinghua on the couch. He was silently asking which one he wanted.

Shang Qinghua selected the lemonade pea flower tea and sipped on it contentedly. Then, he abruptly remembered that he was trying to break up with this dude. “This is really nice. But we should-”

This time, it was Mobei-jun who interrupted him. “Do you like other movies?”

Shang Qinghua’s face scrunched up as he chewed on a tapioca pearl. For a second, he wondered if Mobei-jun was doing this on purpose—like he could tell that Shang Qinghua was trying to end it—but he pushed the thought out of his mind. Clearly, he just wasn’t paying attention.

“Yeah, I guess,” Shang Qinghua answered. He managed to control the irritation in his tone. Mobei-jun couldn’t make anything easy.

Mobei-jun picked up the remote as he handed Shang Qinghua a pair of chopsticks and a plate. He stared at him expectantly.

“You wanna watch one?”

Mobei-jun nodded.

“Well…” Shang Qinghua knew that it would be better to just say what he wanted to say and leave. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Mobei-jun bought him such a nice dinner, and he wanted to watch a movie together. “I guess there’s this kung fu B-movie that’s pretty fun.”

He relayed the name to Mobei-jun, and Mobei-jun found it on one of his (many) streaming services. Soon enough, they were both chowing down and watching the movie together.

Like this, they felt like a real couple, and Shang Qinghua couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to sink even deeper into this fucking relationship.

Once they were both done eating, Mobei-jun tugged at Shang Qinghua’s sleeve.

Shang Qinghua took his eyes off the screen to glance at him, eyebrows raised, and Mobei-jun beckoned him closer with a swish of his hand.

Hesitantly, Shang Qinghua scooted toward him.

Mobei-jun tugged him into his chest, draping an arm around him, almost protectively.

Shang Qinghua’s nostrils filled with his scent. It was almost intoxicating, and Shang Qinghua wondered if he’d eventually start smelling like him too, if they spent enough time together. It was a wonder that, with a natural scent like that, Omegas weren’t crawling all over him every time he stepped outside. (It probably helped that Mobei-jun always looked sort of like he wanted to commit a murder.)

They watched the movie in silence for a little while longer, but Shang Qinghua could feel himself getting more and more distracted. Cuddling on the couch was nice, but the air was thick with tension. Maybe this was the time to strike…

Sitting there, bodies close, Shang Qinghua thought that it was perfect.

This was the most they’d ever touched, so it must have been a sign that Mobei-jun wanted him.

Mobei-jun’s chin was nuzzled into Shang Qinguha’s shoulder, and it would take only a small twist of the head to press a kiss to the edge of his lips.

So, Shang Qinghua steeled himself and pecked the other man softly on the corner of the mouth. It lasted only a split second, and the stillness afterward made Shang Qinghua’s heart drop into his ass.

But then, Mobei-jun grabbed his chin, readjusted their position slightly, and kissed Shang Qinghua full on the mouth.

Mobei-jun held onto the back of his head firmly, and his lips were a bit on the cold side. Of course, his mouth was stupidly soft, and Shang Qinghua huffed through his nose, mildly annoyed. He could add “good kisser” to Mobei-jun’s list of appeals.

But attraction triumphed over Shang Qinghua’s irritation, and he wrapped his arms loosely around Mobei-jun’s neck, to keep him from breaking the kiss too early. Shang Qinghua turned himself around so that they were facing each other and straddled Mobei-jun’s lap with his knees.

With his eyes closed, Shang Qinghua had to feel around Mobei-jun’s body. He’d done this plenty of times, so he dragged his hands down Mobei-jun’s neck like an expert. They slid to his toned chest and stomach, then his fingers nimbly unzipped Mobei-jun’s fly.

Just as he was about to finally get in this elusive man’s pants, Mobei-jun snatched up Shang Qinghua’s probing hand. He pressed it back to his chest, then held it there. They’d fallen out of their kiss, and Mobei-jun was just staring at Shang Qinghua with a warning in his dark eyes.

Shang Qinghua was confused for a moment, but then disappointment crashed through him like a wave. “Why not?” He knew that he should take no for an answer, and that he shouldn’t whine. But he couldn’t understand this.

Mobei-jun clearly liked him. Or, at least, Shang Qinghua thought that it was clear. He’d kissed him back—passionately. There was electricity in the air, crackling so loudly that Shang Qinghua could barely hear his own thoughts.

And then… Mobei-jun pushed him away?

“Not tonight,” was all Mobei-jun said in response.

Shang Qinghua’s shoulders fell, and he felt very much like a deflating balloon. Maybe he just wasn’t actually that desirable. Only shitty guys with shitty tastes would ever want him, and Mobei-jun—rich and perfect and beautiful—would rather just keep him at arms-length.

Shang Qinghua stood, slipping his hand out of Mobei-jun’s grasp, and tried not to pout as he went to gather his books. “Sorry. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Mobei-jun’s hand struck out and he grabbed onto Shang Qinghua’s wrist. He squeezed it tightly, effectively locking him there in place. “Don’t.”

Shang Qinghua couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling up from his throat. It was short and sardonic, filled to the brim with his frustration at this ridiculous fucking situation. “I don’t know what you want. If you like me, then why won’t you sleep with me?” He hadn’t meant to be so blunt about it, but he couldn’t stop the question from coming out. It was like vomit, and he needed to let it go, or else it would just keep making him sick.

“Is that all you want?” Mobei-jun blinked up at Shang Qinghua, and his expression didn’t betray any of what he was thinking. But there was an intensity in his brows that caught Shang Qinghua’s breath in his throat.

“Wha- No…” Shang Qinghua stuttered. Technically, that was a lie. But it felt like more than just sex now. Like sleeping with Mobei-jun would affirm that he was worthy of his attention. Every time he rejected him, it felt so personal, like Mobei-jun was telling him that he wasn’t good enough to be touched. “I just… Do you not find me attractive?”

Mobei-jun’s face darkened, and he tugged sharply on Shang Qinghua’s arm. He fell into the bigger man’s lap again, and Mobei-jun kissed him once more.

Shang Qinghua’s eyelids fluttered, and he could feel the rabid beating of his heart underneath his ribcage.

Even though Mobei-jun didn’t actually say anything, Shang Qinghua thought that this must be his way of telling him that he did find him attractive after all. Clearly, he wanted to be close—just not in that way.

“So, you do like me?” Shang Qinghua hated how insecure he sounded. But he was insecure. It was terrible, and he couldn’t stop himself from exposing his crippling lack of confidence.

Mobei-jun nodded.

“You just don’t want to sleep with me.”

“Not tonight.”

“So, some other time?”

At that, Mobei-jun brushed a hair away from Shang Qinghua’s brow. He nodded again, and there was something almost tender in his gaze.

The smart thing to do would be to tell Mobei-jun exactly what he wanted out of this. He was here for something casual. Sex, kissing. Period. But Shang Qinghua couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He couldn’t possibly ghost Mobei-jun now.

After all, the guy just said that they would have sex later. That was an in! It was more than Shang Qinghua had gotten from him this entire time, and it would be stupid to give up now that he knew that there was guarantee that it would happen in the future.

And besides, they’d just kissed. Mobei-jun went all out on this meal. It would be nothing short of cruel to break things off now.

So, Shang Qinghua settled back into Mobei-jun’s chest, bolstered with hope that something sexy was on the horizon. For now, he just focused on enjoying the rest of the movie. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but there were worse things than spending the evening sitting in Mobei-jun’s arms.

Chapter Text

On the same day that Shang Qinghua went over to Mobei-jun’s house, they ended up trading phone numbers. It was just as Shang Qinghua was leaving, and Mobei-jun practically shoved his phone into his hands. Of course, Shang Qinghua relinquished the information. And now, he’d had Mobei-jun’s contact for a week.

He still couldn’t bring himself to send that first text.

If going to the guy’s house was a big step, then talking to each other off the app was like jumping up a whole flight of stairs. It felt way too intimate, especially since he’d never gotten to this stage with any of the other guys he’d gone out with from Mate Match. All Shang Qinghua could do was stare blankly at the barren text chain (sometimes for an hour at a time).

Of course, Mobei-jun would never reach out to him first. He barely bothered to speak a sentence when they were together, so there was no way he’d be chatty over text either. It was who he was.

But that unfortunately meant that Shang Qinghua would have to be the one to stick his neck out and make first contact.

It was hard to justify sending a text without a reason, so Shang Qinghua just decided to wait until an opportunity presented itself to him.

One day, while Shang Qinghua worked from home, he casually checked his calendar to plan a video meeting for the end of the week. As his tired, dry eyes glazed over the days of the month, he realized that his birthday was on Saturday. He’d nearly completely forgotten.

Ever since he was a child, the Shang family had never been the sort of people to celebrate a birthday. Every year, his birthdays amounted to little more than a half-assed “happy birthday” from his mother, and maybe a little extra money in his bank account from his father, if the hard-ass was feeling generous.

Shang Qinghua didn’t think about it much, but his parents had been divorced since before he could really remember. They both had their own lives as singles, and Shang Qinghua’s existence was sort of an after-thought. It didn’t bother him, but sometimes he wondered what it would have been like to have something normal in his life, like a birthday celebration.

Embarrassment and routine always stopped him from asking Shen Qingqiu to celebrate with him. But now, Shang Qinghua thought that this might be the perfect excuse to send a message.

After a little more deliberation, Shang Qinghua picked up his phone and typed out his text. He tried not to be too anal about what he said. The key was to be cool, calm, and casual. Not awkward, desperate, and overbearing.

Sorry for not texting sooner. I’ve been busy with work. He included an emoji of two hands pressed together, just to emphasize that he did feel bad about going radio silent for so long.

Mobei-jun didn’t respond, but Shang Qinghua could see that he read his message not long after he sent it. Most everyone in polite society understood that it was generally rude to leave someone on read, but Shang Qinghua knew that he couldn’t hold this weirdo to the same standards as everyone else on the planet. Mobei-jun had his own way of communicating, and Shang Qinghua couldn’t expect anything else from him.

I totally forgot about my birthday this weekend, Shang Qinghua continued. I wanted to invite you to a birthday dinner.

Shang Qinghua gazed down at his sent messages, suddenly wondering if this all seemed a bit too familiar. He hadn’t ever had a birthday dinner before, so was it too much to invite nobody but a potential sexual conquest to something so major? It would probably be better to invite other people along, just in case he came off as too clingy.

Quickly, Shang Qinghua added. My roommate will be coming. Is that okay? He hadn’t even asked yet, but he’d worry about strongarming Shen Qingqiu into it later. He’d say yes—and if he didn’t, Shang Qinghua would find a way to blackmail him into it anyway. It wasn’t like he had anyone else to ask.

Yes, Mobei-jun finally answered.

How does Saturday at 7 sound? We can eat dinner. And, Shang Qinghua reasoned as he smiled cheekily to himself, if the mood was right maybe he’d get a little sex as a special birthday gift.

Fine.

Shang Qinghua set his phone down, pleased with himself for finally ripping off the bandage. He wouldn’t be able to make any meaningful progress with this guy if he just sat around staring at his phone. Now, he had an easy opening to aim for what he wanted. All he had to do now was make the goal.

⭒˚｡⋆🖁

Shang Qinghua liked simple food, simple alcohol, and simple restaurants. Being pampered was great, but nothing could truly beat the appeal of his favorite hole-in-the-wall hot pot place. (Also, since his birthday was during a colder month, it only made sense to have a comforting, warming meal for his special day.)

One thing that he didn’t think about, however, was how out-of-place Mobei-jun would look in an establishment like this. His stoic, snow white face was so perfect that it made the run-down, cluttered little restaurant look like it had been hit by a hurricane.

Shang Qinghua approached the counter. “Table for three, please.” Even if Mobei-jun looked out-of-place, Shang Qinghua was confident in the quality of the food. It would be fine.

The old woman there knew him well, and she smiled at him politely as she turned to gather the menu and utensils. But then, her gaze slid up to Mobei-jun, and her eyes began to twinkle—as if she’d seen something truly amazing.

In awe, she stared up at Mobei-jun and exclaimed, “Oh my! So handsome!”

Shang Qinghua did his best not to pout, but he could feel his expression souring immediately. He’d been coming here for years, and no one had ever called him handsome before.

Mobei-jun regarded the old woman with an air of crushing indifference. He looked at her for only a moment, before his gaze flicked off somewhere else. Clearly, he didn’t care about pleasing his elders, and the chilliness in the air was enough to make Shang Qinghua wish he’d worn a thicker sweater.

“And tall too,” she continued, really admiring him now. She didn’t seem to notice (or care) that she was being completely ignored. “You must be a celebrity. You must. If you are, you can tell me.”

Mobei-jun sighed quietly, clearly at the end of his patience. “The table,” he demanded, still staring off into the interior of the restaurant. His eyes, Shang Qinghua realized, were fixed on a table at the back of the restaurant, pushed into a rather secluded corner.

Still ignoring his bad attitude, and obviously eager to please, the old woman lead them to that exact table. She handed them a paper menu, brought them waters, and left the three to decide on their meal.

Shen Qingqiu had been eyeing Mobei-jun from the moment he met up with them outside of the restaurant. Now, he sat across from him at the table, gazing over the rim of his waterglass as he took a drink.

Mobei-jun, on the other hand, had been ignoring Shen Qingqiu this whole time. It was unclear if he even noticed that he was there. (Honestly, Shang Qinghua thought that, maybe that was the case. Shen Qingqiu hadn’t said much, so it was very possible that Mobei-jun just cast him out of his mind.) Even now, he only turned to Shang Qinghua, menu in one hand.

He looked from the menu items to Shang Qinghua, his expression carrying a silent question.

“I’ve been here plenty of times,” Shang Qinghua assured him, somehow understanding what he was asking. He was likely uncertain about how to order from a place like this. After all, he probably only ate at fancy restaurants. “We can choose up to two broths, and different meats and vegetables. They also have a lot of good dipping sauces. You check off the stuff you’d like to order on the little menu. It’s all pretty affordable, so order what you want.”

“What do you want?” Mobei-jun inquired. It was amazing how such a simple question could sound like a threat coming from his mouth.

“It’s your birthday,” Shen Qingqiu agreed, finally speaking for the first time since they were outside in the cold. He wasn’t usually this nice, but Shen Qingqiu often liked to pretend to be a saint for strangers. (It was probably compulsive.) “You should choose.”

Shang Qinghua considered the menu, trying to decide what he felt like today. There were so many options, but he always ended up picking the same thing most times. “I usually like the chicken broth here… And also rice noodles. Bok choy. Meatballs, maybe some mushrooms and tofu. Pork belly definitely. Sometimes I get tripe, but Shen Qingqiu is a baby and he thinks it’s gross.”

“I think tripe is fine,” Shen Qingqiu interrupted. “I just don’t like it in soup.”

Shang Qinghua resisted the urge to playfully razz his friend. He only smiled, thinking all of his friendly insults instead of saying them out loud.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed Mobei-jun marking boxes on the paper menu with a golf pencil. It was good that he was getting into the process. It might not have been his scene, but it felt strangely important to Shang Qinghua that he enjoy himself. “Anyway, that’s usually what I get. Like I said, feel free to add anything else you might want.”

Just as he was finishing speaking, the same old woman from before approached the table. “Have you made your decision yet?” She set down a complementary pot of tea, as well as three glasses of amber-colored beer.

Shen Qingqiu glanced at the drinks, smiling, as he said, “We didn’t order this.”

“Oh, I know.” The old woman waved her hand dismissively. She was grinning at Mobei-jun, so Shang Qinghua had a pretty good idea why she brought these to their table. “It’s on the house. Now, your food.”

Mobei-jun handed her the paper menu wordlessly. Shang Qinghua got a glimpse of it as he picked it up, and he was surprised to find that it was only marked up with the stuff that he mentioned before.

“You didn’t put anything for yourself on here?” He tried to ask for the menu back from the woman, so that Shen Qingqiu and Mobei-jun would have a chance to contribute. But Mobei-jun snatched his hand out of the air, slapping it back down onto the table.

The woman blinked at the two of them, surprised. She waited for someone to say something, but when she was met with only silence, she turned away to put in their order.

Shang Qinghua looked up at Mobei-jun. “You should really have-”

“It’s your birthday,” Mobei-jun reiterated Shen Qingqiu’s point from earlier. He ignored his beer entirely, instead reaching for the pot of tea. He poured himself and Shang Qinghua a cup, completely bypassing Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu’s smile was thin as he grabbed the teapot and did it himself.

Clearly, these two were not getting along. But then again, Shang Qinghua doubted that Mobei-jun got along with anyone. And Shen Qingqiu, while generally well-liked, could only do so much to accommodate for blatant rudeness. There was no doubt that Mobei-jun was being rude (which would have been a red flag), but Shang Qinghua wondered if it was on purpose, or if he just genuinely couldn’t tell.

For now, he offered his friend an apologetic smile.

He had to figure out a way to make this meal less awkward. As he racked his brain, he stared into his cup, as if the tea inside could give him all of the right answers.

Luckily, Shen Qingqiu was always reliable (even if he was a piece of shit sometimes), and he shattered the silence with a simple question, “What do you do for work?” He was looking thoughtfully at Mobei-jun, his expression unreadable yet pleasant.

Mobei-jun met the other man’s gaze. With scathing disregard he answered, “I don’t work.”

“Really?” Shen Qingqiu was still trying to be polite, but Shang Qinghua noticed the irritation twitching at the edge of his smile. He was probably having the same reaction to this news at Shang Qinghua did before. The roommates shared a knowing look before Shen Qingqiu said, bitingly, “That’s rare these days. How do you afford to get by in a city as expensive as this one?”

“I don’t work,” Mobei-jun reiterated, enunciating each syllable as if Shen Qingqiu was unable to hear him properly. “Doesn’t mean I don’t have money.”

“Well…” Shen Qingqiu’s grip tightened slightly on his cup. “Isn’t that nice for you.”

So, conversation wasn’t helping at all.

Shang Qinghua wanted to put his head in his hands and sink underneath he table to hide. He knew that these two would clash, but he didn’t expect it to be so terrible. There had to be something they could do to bridge this gap.

Just as Shang Qinghua was scraping together another idea to keep the conversation alive, Shen Qingqiu’s phone started jingling. He fished it out of his pocket, peered at the contact, then stood. “Sorry. I have to take this.”

“Who is it?” Shang Qinghua asked, almost despondent. He couldn’t leave now… They wouldn’t make any progress that way, if he was using any excuse he could to get away from the table.

“Luo Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu answered, and he walked briskly back outside to take the call. He always picked up when his boyfriend rang, even if it wasn’t that important. If he didn’t, Luo Binghe would spend the next few days pouting.

Shang Qinghua was so stuck in his head that he didn’t even notice that Mobei-jun was trying to get his attention until he placed a heavy hand on his head.

“Oh, sorry.” Shang Qinghua looked up at him, lifting his head as well as he could under the weight of his palm. “Did you need something?”

“What’s his name?” Mobei-jun pointed toward the entrance, indicating that he was talking about Shen Qingqiu.

He’d introduced himself outside, but it didn’t exactly surprise Shang Qinghua that he hadn’t heard him (or that he hadn’t retained the information). After all, Shen Qingqiu wasn’t the reason why he was here, and Mobei-jun struck Shang Qinghua as someone with a one-track-mind.

“Shen Qingqiu,” Shang Qinghua reminded him.

“Shen Qingqiu,” Mobei-jun repeated, like he was surprised to hear it. “He’s Luo Binghe’s fiancé.”

“Fiancé?” Shang Qinghua snort-laughed through his nose. They were close, but Shen Qingqiu wasn’t anyone’s fiancé. It would happen soon enough, but he was focusing on his teaching career for now. (That didn’t stop Luo Binghe from asking every chance he got, though. One of these days, he was just going to force a ring on Shen Qingqiu’s finger and call it a day.)

Then, the peculiarity of that comment hit Shang Qinghua all at once. It almost sounded like… “Do you know Luo Binghe?”

Mobei-jun nodded.

“How?” Shang Qinghua had never heard that guy utter Mobei-jun’s name. But then again, they barely interacted, for both of their sanity.

“Boarding school.”

Shang Qinghua resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Luo Binghe and Mobei-jun went to boarding school. One thing that they had in common (besides their different yet questionable social skills) was that they were stupidly wealthy.

So, they’d met at rich boy private school. Still, what a ridiculous coincidence.

“Are you friends?”

Mobei-jun hesitated, but then he nodded again.

“What sort of relationship do you have?” Shang Qinghua probed. He couldn’t imagine either Luo Binghe or Mobei-jun having a normal friendship. In reality, they seemed more like they would always be at each other’s throats.

Mobei-jun considered his answer for a moment before saying, “I admire him.”

That response gave Shang Qinghua very little to go on, but it did draw an involuntary laugh out of him. He covered his mouth. “You admire him?” It seemed like a foreign concept. Luo Binghe was an absolute mess of a person.

Mobei-jun’s glare showed that he was dead serious.

So, Shang Qinghua swallowed his laughter. “I guess I’m just biased. We’ve never really gotten along.” He refrained from sharing details, just in case Luo Binghe hating his guts changed things between them.

“He’s strong.” It was rare for Mobei-jun to elaborate without being prompted, so Shang Qinghua perked up to pay attention. “He knows what he wants.”

“I guess those are good reasons to like a person,” Shang Qinghua relented with a smile. “But you say that like you don’t have those qualities. You seem pretty strong and certain to me.”

Mobei-jun considered him for a moment, but he didn’t say anything else on the matter.

Maybe Shang Qinghua had judged this guy unfairly after all. He was human too, so of course he had some insecurities. Somehow, it made Shang Qinghua feel closer to him—like he was less of a god and more of a person all of a sudden.

Now that Mobei-jun was quiet again, Shang Qinghua mulled this new information over carefully. Suddenly, he had a tool to end this unbearable cold war between Mobei-jun and Shen Qingqiu. He had to play his cards carefully.

“Well, if you admire Luo Binghe as much as you say, it wouldn’t hurt to get to know Shen Qingqiu too. Those two are all over each other. It would be awkward if you didn’t like his ‘fiancé.’” He presented the thought as if it was just passing idea that slipped through his head unexpectedly.

It seemed to be effective, because Mobei-jun’s expression darkened with thought.

Once Shen Qingqiu came back and sat down, Mobei-jun stared at him openly. After a moment, he asked, like he was spitting a curse, “What do you do for work?”

Shen Qingqiu looked momentarily surprised, but he managed a polite smile as he answered, “I teach high school.”

There was still a significant amount of tension in the air, but suddenly, Shang Qinghua felt like he could breathe. The conversation was stilted, but it was moving, and that accounted for something, after all.

⭒˚｡⋆🖁

While they were finishing up their food, Shen Qingqiu caught Shang Qinghua’s eye. He subtly nodded toward the restroom and stood. “I have to use the toilet before we leave.”

Shang Qinghua sighed internally. He knew that a talk was coming, but he thought that Shen Qingqiu would be able to wait until the morning. Even so, Shang Qinghua agreed that he needed to pee as well and trudged after his friend to the bathroom.

Of course, neither of them went into a stall. They weren’t here to piss. They were here to debrief the meal. Or, rather, Shen Qingqiu was here to admonish Shang Qinghua on his dating choices. It was written all over his stupid, judgmental face.

After their little spat, Shen Qingqiu was noticeably trying to be more supportive. Every time Shang Qinghua mentioned Mobei-jun, the other man grimaced a little bit, like he’d just bitten into a lemon. But he usually managed to keep his opinions to himself. But after that fiasco out there, Shang Qinghua didn’t blame him for cornering him like this.

As the two stood in front of the restaurant’s bathroom sinks, Shen Qingqiu glanced over. Shang Qinghua saw the motion of his eyes in the mirror, and met his gaze.

“What?” Shang Qinghua demanded. “You have something to say?”

“You don’t have to be so defensive.” Shen Qingqiu flicked his gaze away as he leaned back against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I was just going to say that he’s quiet.”

“I know that.” Shang Qinghua rolled his eyes. “There’s no way that’s the only reason you brought me in here.”

Shen Qingqiu stared holes into his head. “How do you spend time with a guy like that? He seems unpleasant.” There it was. Shang Qinghua would have been proud of his ability to read the room, if not for how irritated he was.

“I don’t know.” Shang Qinghua shrugged. He tried to think about it, but found that it was a bit difficult to come up with a strong explanation. “Do you have a reason for spending time with a guy like Luo Binghe?”

At that, Shen Qingqiu’s eyebrow twitched.

They both knew that Shang Qinghua had a point. If Shen Qingqiu wanted to talk about “unpleasant,” Shang Qinghua had a whole laundry list of Luo Binghe’s characteristics for his friend to consider. He was clingy, angry, abrasive, and more. But the guy loved Shen Qingqiu, and Shen Qingqiu loved him.

If anyone should have been able to understand the appeal of an “unpleasant” guy like Mobei-jun, it would have been Shen Qingqiu.

After a moment, Shen Qingqiu relinquished a sigh. “Touché.”

“I thought you weren’t going to bother me about this anymore.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, you literally are,” Shang Qinghua huffed. Was he just not capable of self-reflection, or…?

Shen Qingqiu ran a hand through his hair, pushing his framing bangs away from his forehead. “I’m just trying to understand you, and to understand him.”

Shang Qinghua met his friend’s eye one more time, and he felt his irritation cooling to a slight simmer. Before, he felt like ranting and raving, but he realized that he could understand where Shen Qingqiu was coming from too.

“I think I just like that he listens to me,” Shang Qinghua relented finally, offering his friend a bit of information to sooth his curiosity. “Even if he’s a bit rude sometimes, I feel like he’s pretty attentive.” Quickly, Shang Qinghua added, so it didn’t sound like he was too into this guy, “And he’s ridiculously hot, and loaded. So, that doesn’t hurt either.”

Shen Qingqiu offered him a small, wry smile. “You’re the worst.” He said it with a teasing bite, and Shang Qinghua was relieved to hear that he wasn’t taking his feelings too seriously.

“Can you blame me?” Shang Qinghua laughed. “A goddamn beast stumbled onto my doorstep. I’d be a fucking idiot not to see this through to the end.”

Now that they’d resolved this conversation and come out on the other side with a better understanding, the roommates exited the bathroom together. Mobei-jun was waiting by the door with his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Did you pay already?” Shang Qinghua asked, glancing at the table they’d been sitting at. A younger server was clearing away their dishes and wiping down the surface.

Mobei-jun answered with a neutral, “Mhm,” before reaching out to grab Shang Qinghua. He wrapped an arm firmly around his slim waist and walked out of the restaurant, practically attached at the hip. He completely disregarded the fact that Shen Qingqiu was standing right there.

Usually, this would have been exceedingly embarrassing, but for whatever reason, Shang Qinghua didn’t exactly mind. Instead of trying to pull away, he slipped his hand into Mobei-jun’s back pocket and walked blissfully back to the car.

The iron was burning hot, and Shang Qinghua was ready to strike. He turned to tell Shen Qingqiu to take a hike for the night, but the other man was already splintering off from their group, phone in hand.

He raised his free hand in farewell. “I told Luo Binghe that I would go over to his tonight.” And with that, he disappeared into the night.

Shang Qinghua silently promised him that he would buy him something nice to eat as a thank you for taking the hint.

Now that they were alone, Shang Qinghua looked hopefully up at Mobei-jun. “You wanna come over? We’ll have the apartment to ourselves. Maybe we can-”

“Not tonight,” Mobei-jun interrupted. He let go of Shang Qinghua as they reached his car, and he opened the passenger side door for him.

Shang Qinghua’s smile slowly faded. He hadn’t even been able to finish his sentence. “I thought… Since it’s my birthday…” He couldn’t seem to complete a coherent thought. His face burned with embarrassment.

Was this how it would always be? Him getting his hopes up and Mobei-jun shattering them with one or two words?

“Not tonight,” Mobei-jun repeated. “Get in.”

Shang Qinghua was so shellshocked that he obediently climbed into the car as he was asked. He stared blankly out the windshield for the entire ride back to his apartment, and he stayed frozen in his seat as Mobei-jun idled outside the front.

After a while steeping in the silence, Shang Qinghua turned in his seat to look at Mobei-jun. “Are you ever going to want to sleep with me? I thought you liked me.”

“I do.”

“Then what am I doing wrong?” Shang Qinghua asked. He meant for it to be a demand, but instead it came out like a plea. “Tell me and I’ll fix it. Whatever’s wrong with me, I’ll make it right.”

Mobei-jun leaned back heavily in his seat. He covered his eyes with a hand before raking his fingers back through his hair. He was silhouetted by the apartment’s lights, and the glow carved his sharp features out of the darkness. His eyebrows were pulled, and a grimace tugged subtly at his mouth. He was hardly this expressive, and it made Shang Qinghua’s heart squeeze.

Shang Qinghua unbuckled his seatbelt. He thought about getting out and finally blocking this asshole. But then, he found himself climbing over the armrest. He straddled Mobei-jun’s lap. It was a tight squeeze, but he was slim enough that he slid right between the steering wheel and Mobei-jun’s chest.

“I can be whatever you want,” Shang Qinghua promised. He cringed at the desperation in his own voice, but he was already being honest. It didn’t matter if Mobei-jun saw how pathetic he was.

Mobei-jun’s hands came up, and he cradled Shang Qinghua’s neck on either side. His thumb traced a cold line down his jaw, and his black ice eyes searched Shang Qinghua’s expression.

Shang Qinghua kissed him, hoping that Mobei-jun would realize how much he meant it. He needed him—because he liked him, because being with him would prove something to himself and to the world. Because he was ridiculous and shameless and desperate for some attention.

When the kiss broke, Mobei-jun still stared at Shang Qinghua. There wasn’t much in his expression, but Shang Qinghua thought he saw a flash of pity.

Mobei-jun’s hand grazed across Shang Qinghua’s wrist. A scent blocking patch was hidden there, under his sweater, and Shang Qinghua resisted the urge to flinch away. He wouldn’t be able to feel the thin patch from such a featherlight touch.

The only reason Shang Qinghua got away with hiding the patches was because he wore long sleeves. And he insisted that he keep his shirt on during sex. Usually, he pretended like he was shy and it added to his sexual appeal. That was to say, there was no way Mobei-jun would have noticed the patches underneath his strategically oversized winter and fall clothes. He had to stay calm, or else he would raise questions.

Mobei-jun’s hand lingered on that spot, and he held eye contact with Shang Qinghua for a long excruciating moment. “I don’t need you to change.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Shang Qinghua asked.

“You’re not ready.”

Shang Qinghua wanted to punch Mobei-jun in the face, even if he knew that he would only end up hurting himself on his chiseled jaw. He wanted to scream. And to throw a tantrum. And to go absolutely batshit crazy.

He was more ready than anyone had ever been. “When will I be ready?”

Mobei-jun lifted a brow. “Up to you.”

Shang Qinghua told himself that this wasn’t worth it. Celibacy would be less of a hassle than trying to figure this out. But he couldn’t bring himself to push Mobei-jun away. Instead, he just looked up at the other man. “There’s really no chance you’ll sleep with me tonight?”

Mobei-jun seemed to think this over for a moment. Then, he shook his head. He looked almost sorry.

“Then…” Shang Qinghua fondled the shorter hairs at the nape of Mobei-jun’s neck. His shoulders relaxed, and he melted a bit, still hopeful that he’d get something out of tonight. “Would you just come upstairs? I won’t try anything funny.”

Mobei-jun looked doubtful, so Shang Qinghua insisted, “I mean it. I just don’t want you to leave yet. We can cuddle… Maybe watch a movie. That’s all I want. I just want you.”

Mobei-jun let out a light sigh. Then, he turned off the car.

Maybe it wasn’t what Shang Qinghua had been hoping for, but at least Mobei-jun still wanted to be around him. It meant that there was still hope, as long as he could figure out what the fuck Mobei-jun meant about him not being ready.

Chapter Text

Even though Shang Qinghua didn’t get the birthday present he’d been hoping for, at least it seemed like Mobei-jun wasn’t bored of him just yet. Shang Qinghua didn’t really know how to deal with that fact—since he didn’t think that there was much of anything worth liking beyond his performance in bed.

But Mobei-jun kept going on dates with him. He kept going to lunch and dinner with him. Kept watching movies and talking about books.

Every moment, Shang Qinghua expected the other man to pull the rug out from under him. He braced himself for it each time they saw each other. And yet, that moment never came.

Not only that, but Mobei-jun had even invited Shang Qinghua on a vacation.

Apparently, he took a yearly retreat to the mountains at the start of winter. His family owned an estate, always empty, and Mobei-jun usually went there to enjoy seclusion for a while. Presumably, he’d get his fill of those snow sports that he apparently enjoyed, and then return to his normal life when he was done.

When Mobei-jun texted him his simple invitation, Shang Qinghua had been on the toilet (suffering through the consequences of a slice of pizza). He nearly dropped his phone right between his legs.

I want you to come with me to the mountains.

Of course, the initial message didn’t contain any sort of meaningful information. It took another ten minutes to wrestle the details out of Mobei-jun, and by then, Shang Qinghua was hopping off of the porcelain throne.

After scrubbing his hands clean (in burning hot water, just to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming), he scampered off to find Shen Qingqiu. He was in his room, and when Shang Qinghua threw his door open, he found his roommate reading a novel on his tablet.

Shen Qingqiu startled a bit, but only frowned when he saw it was just Shang Qinghua invading his space. “Get out of my room!” he demanded, gesturing toward the door as if his friend needed to be reminded of where it was located.

Shang Qinghua shushed him with a frantic wave of his hands. He climbed into Shen Qingqiu’s bed, shoving him to the side so that there was room for both of them on the full mattress.

“What the hell-”

“Just shhh!” Shang Qinghua desperately thrust his phone into Shen Qingqiu’s hand.

When Shen Qingqiu shot him a resistant glare, Shang Qinghua only nodded wildly. His brain couldn’t quite comprehend what this invitation meant, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Shen Qingqiu huffed, but he took a moment to read over the conversation. “This man can’t text…” he mumbled, and Shang Qinghua shrugged in easy agreement.

After another moment, Shen Qingqiu let out a thoughtful hum. “If I told you not to go, you wouldn’t listen to me, right?”

“You don’t think I should go?” Shang Qinghua took his phone back.

“Do you really want my opinion this time?”

Shang Qinghua hesitated for a moment, but then nodded.

“Well, I don’t think it’s the best idea to be alone with him somewhere so remote,” Shen Qingqiu explained. “After all, you’re still not telling him the entire truth.”

That made sense.

But at the same time, Shang Qinghua didn’t think he would be able to bring himself to say no. What was more romantic then spending a vacation together in a cabin in the mountains, surrounded by snow?

Cuddling by the fireplace, drinking steaming cups of cocoa and tea. It was straight out of a novel. And all of that solitary and intimacy could only lead to something more…

As if sensing Shang Qinghua’s intent, Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes spectacularly. “I know I can’t convince you not to. So the least I can do is make sure you don’t look like an idiot.”

Shang Qinghua shook himself out of his thoughts and peered at his friend curiously. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t exactly have a lot of winter clothes.”

Shang Qinghua did have clothes for cold weather, but not for snow. Where they lived, and where he grew up, it always got chilly in the winter months, but never cold enough to snow a lot. He had sweaters and some jackets, a pair of poots, and thick socks. But he didn’t have anything that could withstand the snow that would most likely be on the mountains this time of year.

“You make a fair point,” Shang Qinghua admitted. “What did you have in mind?”

“We’re going to go shopping, obviously.” Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes. He turned off his tablet and stood up. “So tell him yes, quickly, and let’s get this over with.”

⭒˚｡⋆🖁

Thanks to Shen Qignqiu, Shang Qinghua was well-equipped to embark on his adventure to the mountains. Apparently, the area where he and Mobei-jun would be staying was going to get some snowfall while they were there, so Shang Qinghua was grateful for his roommate’s smart thinking.

If he’d been on his own, Shang Qinghua would have gone up there only with what he already owned. In all likelihood, he would have either been trapped in the cabin for the whole trip, or, he would have frozen to death out in the wilderness. Now, he could focus on making this vacation as romantic, and as sensual, as possible.

He’d picked up a new jacket, and some snow pants. The boots that they found were of much higher quality than the ones he’d been using for the last few years, and he’d never actually owned a pair of earmuffs before. It was lucky that the store actually had some stuff that made Shang Qinghua look sort of cute.

Even so, all bundled up, he looked quite similar to a waddling penguin, but it was endearing. (At least, he hoped it would be for Mobei-jun.) At the very least, Shang Qinghua felt half-decent in the clothes they’d picked. He was more comfortable not showing his body anyway.

For the drive up to the property, Shang Qinghua donned a new, thick turtleneck and his new boots. The turtleneck was made from a mixed yarn, dyed in all different shades of blue. Shang Qinghua liked it a lot, and he also liked that it was oversized. After Mobei-jun touched his wrist before, he’d become a bit paranoid. The thicker the sweater, the safer Shang Qinghua would be.

Honestly, it was lucky that they’d met when the weather turned cold. This way, Shang Qinghua could conceal his patches, and his secret, until spring reared its warm, flowery head. And by then, the two men would have certainly parted ways.

Shen Qingqiu was awake early that morning, which meant that he could see his friend off. Being a teacher, the guy was always awake at a disgustingly early hour, so he was alert enough to nag. “You have your clothes?”

“Yes.” Shang Qinghua placed his breakfast plate into the dishwasher before walking over to his hardshell suitcase next to the door. He was too tired for the interrogation, but it was easier than resisting.

“And your patches?”

“Of course.”

“What about your medicine?”

“I have everything!” Shang Qinghua gestured toward his overstuffed suitcase, and his bulging backpack. It took a lot of rearranging to get everything in there, since his suitcase was a bit too small for the thick clothes that he was bringing. It also didn’t help that he’d put off packing until just this morning. He hadn’t doublechecked everything, but he knew how to pack a bag for himself. He wasn’t a five year old.

Shen Qingqiu let out a sigh, but he turned his attention to his tea after a moment. He really did look like an old, fretful mother like that—sighing into his steaming cup of jasmine with a cardigan around his shoulders. The sight almost made Shang Qinghua feel bad for all the trouble he’d ever caused him (almost). “Text me if something goes wrong.”

“Why?” Shang Qinghua shot him a cheeky grin. “Will you be my getaway driver?”

“If need be.”

Just then, Shang Qinghua’s phone dinged. It was Mobei-jun announcing that he was waiting outside. “Gotta go. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

He smirked, then added, just as he was closing the door, “You know, unless I need to make a quick escape.”

It was a bit of a fight to get the suitcase down the stairs, but he made it to Mobei-jun’s car no more worse for wear. He beamed up at the taller man, who was leaning against his car waiting for him.

Somehow, Mobei-jun didn’t seem at all bothered by the early hour, or the bone-chilling moisture in the air. The temperature had dipped astronomically over the last few days, and this morning proved to be bitter cold.

And yet, Mobei-jun stood there with an air of absolute indifference, as always. He wore a pristine leather jacket with white fur around the collar, but normal clothes otherwise.

“It should be illegal to get up before five.” Shang Qinghua dragged the suitcase over, and Mobei-jun took it without a word. The smaller man did his best not to eye the handsome cut of Mobei-jun’s body. It was a challenge, really, since that coat fit him so well. “Why do we have to get there so early, again?”

Mobei-jun considered his question as he put the case in his car’s trunk. He did it with such ease, and Shang Qinghua, not for the first time, wondered what sort of workout routine he had.

“I wanted to,” Mobei-jun finally answered. He shut the trunk with a brisk thud and swept his long hair out of his face. It was as unsatisfying an answer as ever, but Shang Qinghua forgave him when he bent his neck down for a kiss.

Shang Qinghua wondered if it was too intimate to kiss each other hello, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Mobei-jun to stop. They’d been kissing, like a couple, for weeks, and it felt wrong to change that now. It was sort of nice, actually…

“Let’s go,” Mobei-jun announced, opening Shang Qinghua door.

It was the small gestures like this that reminded Shang Qinghua how much of a gentleman Mobei-jun could be. He was always cold and brusk (and sometimes rude) to everyone else. But he went out of his way for Shang Qinghua’s convenience. If Shang Qinghua ever mentioned it, Mobei-jun would glare icicles, but it was clear that this sort of treatment was reserved only for him.

In all honesty, it made Shang Qinghua feel very special. He was like a prince being ushered into his carriage. Of course, Shang Qinghua took care not to get too wrapped up in his fantasies. This wasn’t built to last, so it would be stupid to get used to it.

“Thanks.” Shang Qinghua slipped into the car. The seat warmer was already on, and he felt sleep suddenly wrap its inviting arms around him. It was so cozy, but he forced himself to stay awake.

Mobei-jun climbed into the driver’s seat, and the two embarked on their journey to the house.

Shang Qinghua, ever vigilant, noticed that Mobei-jun didn’t even pull up directions as he started toward the highway. After a moment, he prompted, “You must know the mountains well, if you can get there without a map.”

“Yes.”

“You said it’s your family’s house?” Shang Qinghua asked, genuinely curious to know more. It was always a challenge squeezing details out of Mobei-jun. He was like a dry lemon, and it took every ounce of Shang Qinghua’s strength to get the tiniest bit of juice. “I guess you would know it well, if you go there a lot.”

“I went as a child too,” Mobei-jun said. He drove with one hand, asserting his dominance over the mostly empty road. “My mother bought it.”

“Oh!” Shang Qinghua had never heard much about Mobei-jun’s family. The only thing he knew was that their money funded Mobei-jun’s house and lifestyle. Shang Qinghua stifled a yawn and cuddled against the window. If he just focused on the conversation, he could stay awake. “So you must have spent a lot of time there with your family.”

Mobei-jun shook his head. “Only Mother.”

Shang Qinghua felt his eyebrows rise, and his natural nosiness bubbling up like bile from his stomach. “Why is that?”

“Mother and Father can’t stand each other,” Mobei-jun answered, his tone flippant and detached. “The mountains were her escape.”

“I see…” Shang Qinghua suddenly realized that he’d stepped into something super fucking personal. He stared awkwardly at the glove box, wrapping his sweater tightly around his torso.

As if sensing Shang Qinghua’s discomfort, Mobei-jun added, “It’s fine now.”

“Why is that?”

“They got a divorce.”

It might have been strange for Shang Qinghua to smile at that, but he found that he couldn’t help it. He glanced over at Mobei-jun again, his grin loose from sleepiness. “I didn’t think we had much in common.”

Mobei-jun shot him a brief, unamused look.

“Sorry, that came out wrong.” Shang Qinghua giggled softly. (Man, he was tired. He sounded like an idiot.) “I just meant… Well, my parents got divorced too. So I guess that’s something we can relate on.”

Mobei-jun’s eyes cut to Shang Qinghua again, and there was the barest hint of a smile on his lips. He didn’t say anything, but he nodded, like he agreed.

Warmth bloomed dangerously in Shang Qinghua’s stomach. He tried to cool it off by quieting his mind, but it was no use. He never expected that he and Mobei-jun could share a part of their history like that.

Shang Qinghua could feel his eyelids sliding closed, but he didn’t want to look away from Mobei-jun. He wanted to keep learning more about him, to piece him together until he had a full picture. Maybe that was a bit selfish, since he was withholding such an important piece of himself… But Shang Qinghua couldn’t help it.

Mobei-jun seemed to notice him fighting to stay awake, and he reached over to place a hand on Shang Qinghua’s knee. He squeezed it gently, the cold of his palm radiating through Shang Qinghua’s jeans. “Sleep.”

For all it was worth, that one word could have been a magical spell. As soon as Mobei-jun had given him permission, Shang Qinghua found himself sinking into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Chapter Text

When Shang Qinghua opened his eyes again, it took him a moment to remember where he was. He peered through his narrowed eyes, slowly sweeping his gaze over the interior of the car. The window next to his head was fogged over, making it difficult for Shang Qinghua to see outside. The car was still and silent.

Mobei-jun was shaking his shoulder, an impatient frown pulling at his mouth. When he noticed that Shang Qinghua was awake, he removed his hand. “We’re here.”

Shang Qinghua realized that there was drool crusted on the corner of his mouth, and he swiped at it frantically with his sleeve. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he’d spent the whole drive snoozing while Mobei-jun did the hard part.

“I guess I didn’t make a very good passenger,” Shang Qinghua joked awkwardly. He hoped that Mobei-jun wouldn’t hold it against him. “I must have been more tired than I thought.”

“It’s fine.” Mobei-jun genuinely didn’t seem to care at all. With pure indifference, he turned and got out of the car. He wasted no time opening the trunk and started shuttling their luggage inside.

He was nearly finished by the time Shang Qinghua gathered his backpack and got out too.

Shang Qinghua found that they were parked in a garage. There was hardly anything stored here, except for a few, dusty snowboards and skis. Some were small enough for a toddler, while some looked big enough for an adult (although Shang Qinghua didn’t know enough about snow sports to know for sure). There were also a few sleds, and a box labeled “Mobei-jun’s baby clothes.”

Curiosity got the better of Shang Qinghua, and he snuck over to the discarded box in the corner. He folded it open, and his heart nearly melted at the tiny winter clothes stuffed inside. There were little baby boots, and a pair of the smallest mittens he’d ever seen. It was nearly impossible to imagine the towering, intimidating Mobei-jun having ever been so small, but everyone was a baby once.

Suddenly, Shang Qinghua felt his collar tighten. He was lifted, quite inelegantly from where he was kneeling, and found himself facing Mobei-jun’s unamused expression.

Shang Qinghua was still holding the mittens, and he held them up with a playful smile. There was no trace of actual anger on Mobei-jun’s face right now, so he thought it was safe to tease a little. “Look at how tiny your hands were.”

Mobei-jun lifted one eyebrow, unimpressed, before taking the mittens and dropping them back in the box. He also let Shang Qinghua down, but he didn’t leave him alone again. Instead, he walked to the door, then looked back at Shang Qinghua. He beckoned him with a sharp flick of his hand, and Shang Qinghua followed.

“Sorry if I seem nosy.” Shang Qinghua trailed behind the taller man, taking in the pristine cleanliness of the mudroom as they breezed through. Mobei-jun grabbed Shang Qinghua’s suitcase on the way.

Mobei-jun didn’t answer, but he didn’t reproach him either.

Even as Shang Qinghua apologized for his nosiness, he was eagerly drinking everything in, memorizing details, and noting things of interest.

The kitchen was attached to the mudroom, and it was absolutely massive. The countertops were made of smooth, treated stone, and lovely gray tiles rubbed against Shang Qinghua’s socked feet. A giant window, where one might expect a backsplash behind the sink, stretched from one end of the counter to the other. It revealed a long, rectangular slice of the white landscape outside, and the deck.

Shang Qinghua could just barely see a canopy out there, covering a hot tub. That explained why Mobei-jun told him to bring his swimsuit to the mountains. He would be hopping in as soon as he could.

Then came the dining room, with a modern chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It was pretty grand, considering it was only Mobei-jun who ever came here anymore.

They were clearly going somewhere, because they didn’t even stop in the living room. All Shang Qinghua could do was steal a quick glance. He found that the room was even nicer than the one Mobei-jun had at home. The furniture looked almost untouchably expensive, and the biggest television that Shang Qinghua had ever seen occupied one wall. A massive window and sliding door took up the entire back wall, revealing a breathtaking panorama of the area.

Mountains stretched out as far as the eye could see, and there were only hints of civilization as Shang Qinghua squinted at a town far below them. He could see the winding road that they must have taken to get here, but it disappeared behind a swell of hills. The sky was steely gray and heavy, threatening snow at any moment.

As Shang Qinghua finally followed Mobei-jun up the stairs, he noted that, while the place was beautiful, it felt so empty. No one had been here for a long time, except maybe the people who probably maintained it for him. There was no warmth, despite the sophisticated heating system, and Shang Qinghua could only imagine how lonely it would feel to be here alone.

Suddenly, Shang Qinghua was even more glad that Mobei-jun invited him along. Now, he wouldn’t have to spend his vacation in such a lonesome, secluded building. Maybe he liked being alone, but this amount of alone couldn’t be good for anyone…

Without thinking, Shang Qinghua reached out to take Mobei-jun’s hand. His skin was cold to the touch, as always. Mobei-jun didn’t acknowledge him, but he allowed Shang Qinghua to cling to him as they ascended the stairs.

Mobei-jun opened a door in the upstairs hallway and showed Shang Qinghua inside. “You’ll sleep here,” he informed him.

Shang Qinghua left his suitcase by the door and set his backpack down with a thump. He looked around too, taking in the suite with wide eyes. It was way too much space for one person, and it felt downright luxurious.

The queen-sized bed against the wall faced a line of floor-to-ceiling windows, providing a nice view of the wonderland outside. The carpet was plush, and the bedding was soft to the touch. A large bathroom with a tub, a standing shower, and a bidet was connected to the room. Inside, someone had folded a pile of robes and towels for him to use.

Shang Qinghua hopped onto the bed, testing the softness, and melted back into the mattress with a sigh. It was definitely memory foam… Much better than the mattress he slept on back home. It was almost enough to send him right back to sleep, but he managed to sit up without taking another impromptu nap.

“Who keeps this place so clean while you’re gone?” Shang Qinghua asked. It didn’t even smell a little bit like dust. If not for the lonesome chill lingering in the air, he would have thought that someone stayed here all the time.

“A housekeeping service,” Mobei-jun explained. He was leaning in the doorway, half in the hall and half in the room. He watched Shang Qinghua with a calm gaze. “My people notify them when I’m coming.”

“Your people,” Shang Qinghua dared to tease him, using a haughty, nasally voice.

Mobei-jun narrowed his eyes. Although he was clearly trying to look stern, there was the tiniest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Maybe Shang Qinghua had just been spending too much time paying attention, but the miniscule motion betrayed Mobei-jun entirely.

“Where do you sleep?” Shang Qinghua asked, keeping his pleasure at Mobei-jun’s flinch of a smile to himself.

“Down the hall.” Mobei-jun nodded in its direction. “Last door on the right.”

Shang Qinghua nodded. Part of him had hoped that they would share a room, but that was only wishful thinking. Mobei-jun had his boundaries, and it made sense that sharing a bed would cross them. It was too intimate for where they were at now, but it would definitely make it a little difficult for Shang Qinghua to open him up to the idea of taking it to the next level.

“Well, now that’s sorted,” Shang Qinghua announced, rubbing his hands together. He wouldn’t think about sex now. He’d just enjoy the free vacation for the time being. “Any plans for today? Are we going to hit the slopes? I warn you, you’ll have to teach me pretty much everything.”

“No plans,” Mobei-jun answered. “I’m tired. We can do that tomorrow.”

“I was honestly hoping you’d say that.” Shang Qinghua really meant it. He was still exhausted from the early morning, even if he’d slept for the whole drive here. “I kind of just wanted to get a drink and then maybe acquaint myself with the hot tub I saw outside.”

“Fine,” Mobei-jun said, sounding fairly unenthusiastic. (Shang Qinghua knew not to read into it.) “I’ll start the tub.”

Shang Qinghua smiled at the other man. “Thanks. I’ll be down soon.”

Mobei-jun nodded, then disappeared into the hall. He took his own luggage to his room, then circled back to go downstairs.

Shang Qinghua listened to his receding footsteps, then hopped up to unpack. He didn’t care about putting his clothes in the closet or anything, since they would only be here for two weeks, but he did want to hide any incriminating items that he’d brought along.

He put his toiletries in the bathroom, and tucked his scent blocking patches (which were in a nondescript bag) behind his face cream. He’d poured his pheromone perfume into a simple, unmarked travel bottle, and he gave himself a few extra spritzes, just in case, before zipping it into the bag with his patches.

And, most importantly, he hid his pill case in one of the drawers, underneath a stack of washcloths. But hopefully, he wouldn’t need his medicine at all.

Now that he’d concealed the most important things, Shang Qinghua donned his swimwear. It wasn’t exactly flattering, but the long-sleeved rash guard hid his patches. The garment was a bit thin for his comfort, but it was better than going with his shirt off and hoping that Mobei-jun didn’t ask questions. After pulling on his trunks, Shang Qinghua padded downstairs on bare feet.

He found Mobei-jun outside on the patio, setting out two steaming mugs on the trays attached to the sides of the hot tub. He was wearing swim trunks too, and Shang Qinghua nearly passed out at the sight of all that exposed skin. Mobei-jun was almost as pale as the snow around him. His black hair was pulled into a braid over his shoulder, to keep it out of the water.

How he was dealing with this cold with his full chest and legs exposed to the air, Shang Qinghua didn’t know. As it was, he had to dance in place to keep himself from freezing into a block of ice the moment he stepped through the sliding door.

Mobei-jun glanced up when he heard Shang Qinghua approach. “Get in.”

Shang Qinghua didn’t have to be told twice. He plunged into the bubbly water. It chased the chill from his body well enough, and the steam kept his face from getting too cold.

Mobei-jun joined him soon after, sinking down to his shoulders. He handed Shang Qinghua one of the mugs. It was hot chocolate, and when he took a taste, Shang Qinghua realized that he’d made it how he told him he liked it so long ago.

“This is the life.” Shang Qinghua sighed contentedly. “It must be nice to have a hot tub like this. I’d be in it all the time. I’d probably do my work in here.”

“I don’t like hot tubs,” Mobei-jun said, and Shang Qinghua looked up at him.

“What?” He laughed a little. “That’s crazy. Who doesn’t like hot tubs?”

“Me,” was Mobei-jun’s unimpressed answer.

“Why not?”

Mobei-jun looked away, clearly unwilling to answer Shang Qinghua question. With a small smile, Shang Qinghua set his mug to the side once again and slipped to the other side of the tub. He snuggled up to Mobei-jun’s side, hoping to ingratiate himself to him and get the truth.

After a moment, Mobei-jun shifted Shang Qinghua so that he was sitting partially in his lap and explained, “Makes me dizzy. Too hot.”

Shang Qinghua leaned his head back into the crook of Mobei-jun’s neck and looked up at his strong jaw. He pressed a kiss to the hard line. “Really? Are you sensitive to heat?”

Mobei-jun resisted for another moment, but then nodded.

So, the godlike Mobei-jun had a weak constitution when it came to hot temperatures. It explained his tolerance for the cold, actually. Shang Qinghua was curious, so he started “If you don’t like it, then why are you-”

Mobei-jun interrupted him with a huff. “You wanted to,” he spat, like he was dolling out a serious insult.

Shang Qinghua bit his lip, heart fluttering. It was something so small, but Mobei-jun was willing to endure a bit of discomfort, just so they could spend time together. Nothing had quite gone to plan so far, but it was so obvious that Mobei-jun was absolutely smitten—even if he never said it or showed it on his face.

“Thanks for putting up with it for me.” Shang Qinghua wrapped his arms around Mobei-jun’s neck, maneuvering himself completely into his lap so that they were facing. His wet fingers slid up to scratch against the nape of Mobei-jun’s neck.

The swim trunks left very little to the imagination, and Shang Qinghua noticed something hard pressing into his thigh. Apparently, Mobei-jun was getting excited, although there was no hint of arousal in his expression at all. He only stared at Shang Qinghua, his eyes dark and intense. It was nice to confirm that he didn’t find Shang Qinghua sexually unappealing, but it also made this even more frustrating, in a way.

Mobei-jun wanted him, but he was holding back. For now, Shang Qinghua didn’t push. He couldn’t take another rejection at the very start of their trip. Instead, he subtly ground his hips just once, acknowledging Mobei-jun’s erection with a coy smile, then kissed him on the mouth.

If he was already getting turned on by just sitting in a hot tub, then there was no way that Mobei-jun would be able to hold himself back by the end of these two weeks. And Shang Qinghua would do everything he could to make sure of that.