Duan Wanqing had not experienced the tender affections of women in his homeland for a long time. Now, lost in this indulgence, he felt like he was drowning in bliss and had no desire to get out of bed.
It wasn’t until the afternoon that the strong fragrance of floral perfume finally roused him from the sheets. A girl, dressed in only the barest essentials, knelt beside him, rubbing warmed essential oil into his back. Her slender yet strong fingers kneaded his sore muscles, drawing a long moan from Duan Wanqing.
Reaching behind him, he grasped her cool hand, pulling her forward. She obediently pressed her body against him, whispering flirtatiously in his ear, “You’re so naughty~~”
“Get up and grab my clothes,” Duan Wanqing said, giving her a kiss. “I’m hungry. Let’s go out for a meal.”
The other girl, who had been resting her chin in her hand and watching them, smiled sweetly at his words.
*****
With his hat and mask on, Duan Xiubo stepped out of the car. The sky was darkening, but the Half Mountain Hotel was still ablaze with lights. The hotel’s pagoda-style eaves glowed like translucent glass under the lights.
Luo Ding was somewhat speechless. “We drove all this way just to come here?”
Duan Xiubo held his hand, making no effort to lower his cap further in the fading light. “It’s not safe in the city. The security is good here, and there are fewer people around. I’ve got a membership card for the rooftop restaurant. It’s the perfect place for a date.”
Luo Ding tried to pull his hand away, but Duan held it tightly. Not pressing the issue, Luo Ding smiled, teasing him, “We’re just grabbing a meal. When did this become a date?”
Raising an eyebrow, Duan Xiubo moved in closer, lightly brushing Luo Ding’s collar with his fingers, his gaze suddenly intense. “Did you really pick out a new outfit just for a meal?”
They both chuckled, and Duan’s hand slowly moved to the side of Luo Ding’s face, his fingers gently grazing his earlobe. Catching sight of approaching headlights from the parking lot, he quickly lowered his hand.
Letting go of Luo Ding’s hand, they walked shoulder to shoulder toward the hotel. A fleeting sense of disappointment crossed their minds but was soon replaced by the excitement of their date.
Duan Xiubo led the way through the hotel lobby and to the VIP elevator, showing his familiarity with the place. The attendant, who seemed to have been stationed there for a long time, greeted Duan without surprise, bowing slightly. “Mr. Duan.”
Duan must have been a frequent visitor. He gave Luo Ding a gentle push forward into the elevator and told the attendant, “To the top floor.”
If he hadn’t been given a two-week vacation to rest, Luo Ding would never have agreed to come here. Unlike Duan Xiubo, Luo Ding rarely had the chance to go out and have fun, not just because of maintaining his public image, but primarily due to a lack of time. He was incredibly busy, so much so that being busy had become a way of life. Even something as simple as sleeping in felt like a luxury. As they reached the top floor, where a glass-ceilinged restaurant awaited them, Luo Ding felt like he was dreaming.
He stood there, head tilted back, letting out a long sigh of relief.
The spicy aroma of chili filled the air, making him raise an eyebrow. “It smells good. Is it Sichuan cuisine? But I can’t eat spicy food.”
“I already asked Mao Xiaorun. Occasionally eating something mildly spicy won’t affect your voice too much, and the album is already recorded. You won’t need to sing for at least three months.” The restaurant wasn’t too crowded, and the lighting was soft. Duan Xiubo, guiding him toward a secluded corner, sighed, “You’re acting way too strict with yourself. You’re only in your twenties, but you’re pushing yourself too hard. Sometimes you don’t have to be so rigid.”
Even Gu Yaxing, the person who usually appreciated it when artists were disciplined and obedient, found Luo Ding’s constant tension to be excessive. Whenever Duan Xiubo went to ask Gu about Luo Ding, Gu often questioned whether the company was putting too much pressure on him, causing him to never relax.
“Relax,” Duan Xiubo reassured him, sensing Luo Ding’s lingering hesitation. “This restaurant is known for its Sichuan dishes. The chili peppers and Sichuan peppercorns are flown in directly from the region. The head chef is from Sichuan and is very well-known there. He’s precise with his ingredients. After we finish eating, just drink some milk and eat a few mangosteens, and you’ll be fine.”
Luo Ding finally relaxed and looked at Duan helplessly. “How did you know I like Sichuan food?”
Duan Xiubo winked at him. “Take a guess.”
Luo Ding couldn’t figure it out. He rarely complained about food and usually ate whatever was available. Duan Xiubo continued, “Do you remember when we were filming *Crouching Dragon*? One time, the crew accidentally gave you spicy chicken instead of your usual braised pork and egg. The staff came to swap it out, but even though you hadn’t touched the food, you kept staring at the dish like you were saying, ‘My spicy chicken! My spicy chicken!'”
“Get lost!” Luo Ding laughed, giving Duan a playful shove. Though he pretended to be annoyed, he was secretly pleased that Duan remembered such a small detail from so long ago. His shove wasn’t very forceful. Duan, however, exaggerated his stumble, grabbing onto Luo Ding’s wrist, pulling him back, and engaging in playful banter.
Duan Wanqing, after years abroad, had seldom encountered decent Chinese food. In foreign countries, good Chinese restaurants were rare, and authentic ones even rarer. Now back home, he wasn’t about to pass up the chance to indulge. Wearing gloves, he tore into a spicy, juicy lamb rib, ignoring his image. His table was laden with Sichuan dishes, while the two girls beside him, who also didn’t mind spicy food, ate their beef soup and side dishes with dainty bites.
Duan Wanqing, sweating from the heat, couldn’t stop eating. After two bowls of rice and plenty of lamb, he leaned back, finally satisfied.
The restaurant was spacious and uniquely designed. The dome was made entirely of transparent frames and glass, with strange angles and perfectly clean surfaces. When night fell, the stars reflected off the glass at odd angles, making the sky seem twice as large as usual.
Leaning back in his chair, Duan Wanqing began admiring the stars, though his mind drifted back to his reasons for returning to China, filling him with a sense of melancholy.
Having a child late in life hadn’t brought him the joy he had anticipated.
Watching his twenty-something wife cradle a baby who looked like a cherub from a stained glass window, with no resemblance to him, he felt tired of the marriage. Once the honeymoon phase had worn off, Duan Wanqing found marriage tedious and dull.
Children should be copies of their parents, he thought. They should resemble their fathers in every way, from physical features to personality. His son Duan Xiubo, was the perfect example: from his facial features to his stubborn personality, he was a spitting image of Duan Wanqing. A few days ago, when Duan Wanqing had met his eldest son again, he was disappointed. His son looked too much like Yu Chanjuan, and some of his subtle expressions even sent chills down Duan’s spine.
Duan Wanqing had no intention of maintaining a close relationship with his eldest son. His main reason for returning to China was to find Duan Xiubo.
They hadn’t been in contact for years. No holiday greetings, no phone calls. His memory of his son had all but faded. The last time he’d seen him in a bar, Duan Wanqing had wanted to assert his authority as a father. But until the moment Duan Xiubo left, he had felt as though his feet were shackled, unable to move.
He couldn’t take that step.
It wasn’t as though Duan Wanqing didn’t know why his son resented him. But back when he was deeply involved with his romantic affairs, he hadn’t wanted a child’s minor issues to interfere with his relationship. By the time he had freed himself from the entanglement and thought about reconnecting with his son, Duan Xiubo had already grown up enough to be independent, even asking to attend boarding school.
Duan Wanqing had been overjoyed — why not agree? But if he had known his son would never return, he would have made a different decision.
His son had flown the coop, and since then, there had been no contact. Duan Wanqing, who had expected his son to return after hitting a few rough patches, had been left stunned. A few years later, his secretary informed him that someone was depositing a large sum of money into his account each month. After two years, the payments stopped.
The total came to $700,000, and it was only then that Duan Wanqing realized how determined Duan Xiubo had been to cut ties. Watching his son rise to fame in Hollywood, appearing in larger productions, Duan Wanqing finally panicked. This led him to remarry and have another child after all these years.
But as soon as the child was born, Duan Wanqing regretted it. The baby didn’t resemble him and was constantly crying. Raising him would take another twenty years, but Duan wasn’t sure he had that many years left.
After the honeymoon period ended, his young wife, barely in her twenties, was no longer as docile as before. Instead, she seemed intent on tying him down, controlling every aspect of his life.
This was becoming boring.
The two girls sitting beside him, flaunting their looks with deliberate hair flips while eating, were no different from the women he’d been with before. Duan Wanqing’s gaze roamed listlessly around the restaurant as he wondered whether he should go directly to the company to meet Duan Xiubo or ask his eldest son to pass along a message. After all, he couldn’t let the car he’d given away go to waste. However, when his eyes fell upon the restaurant entrance, they stayed fixed in place.
He was excellent at recognizing people, and Luo Ding had left a deep impression on him. Sophia had failed in her mission, coming back too embarrassed to face him. Duan Wanqing had been amazed by the fact that there was a man in the world who could refuse someone like her.
Then his gaze shifted slightly, and he noticed a man walking beside Luo Ding, wearing a mask. On closer inspection, Duan Wanqing sat up straighter.
Got him without even trying!
His eyes locked onto them, watching as the two were led into a private dining room. Duan Wanqing narrowed his eyes, raising his hand to summon a waiter.
“Does that gentleman come here often?” he asked.
The waiter hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Sorry, sir, I can’t disclose that information.”
Duan Wanqing pulled out his wallet and stuffed a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills into the waiter’s pocket. “I’m not asking for much. Sometimes, flexibility is important.”
But the waiter looked alarmed, quickly taking the money out and placing it back on the table. Apologizing quietly, he scurried away.
Duan Wanqing was left speechless.
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