The next day, the temperature dropped even lower. The weather forecast predicted snow within a week.
At six in the morning, just as dawn broke, Bai Qinglin finished washing up and went for a few laps around the neighborhood. His face was damp with dew, and at his vigorous age, he was brimming with energy. After exercising, he panted heavily, unscrewed his thermos, and drank hot water.
Bai Qinglin was accustomed to keeping his breathing steady. A calm body led to calm breathing, while restlessness led to erratic breaths. His movement to cap the thermos paused briefly. He sat on a bench, wiping the sweat slowly trickling down his chin, his sharp jawline moving slightly with his Adam’s apple.
Lost in thought, his phone vibrated again.
Bai Qinglin hadn’t responded to Zhu Jingru. He swiped away the message notification, continuing to ignore it.
Just an unimportant customer.
The coffee shop was doing good business. Bai Qinglin stood at the counter, grinding coffee beans. The aroma was bitter yet rich. From time to time, he could hear Tong Yin and the pastry chef’s voices in the background.
“Your boyfriend’s one meter eighty, but that handsome Zhu guy looks a bit taller.”
“He’s taller.”
“Great figure too. By the way, how many boyfriends does he have?”
Tong Yin laughed out loud. “Would you believe me if I said none?”
“No way. I’d think it’s normal if he switched partners daily. He’s too good-looking.”
…
At nine o’clock sharp, Tong Yin asked, “Should we heat milk for Mr. Zhu?”
Bai Qinglin didn’t look up. “No need.”
Just as he spoke, the wind chime at the door jingled. Zhu Jingru, wearing a denim jacket, pushed the door open. He had a new stud in his earlobe, his movements as casually laid-back as ever. His lips, reddened by the wind, carried a teasing tone. “I didn’t drink yesterday, and now you’re not giving me any today? What’s the logic in that?”
Bai Qinglin glanced at him.
Zhu Jingru happened to lower his head, using a tissue, letting out a muffled cough from his throat.
Bai Qinglin’s hand paused mid-order. He switched to a different drink and said in a low voice, “Ginger tea to ward off the cold.”
How could Zhu Jingru refuse? He opened his payment app, but then heard the meticulously aproned man say flatly, “Wait five minutes.”
Zhu Jingru realized a moment later, “Is this one on you, Brother Bai?”
“Yes.” Having drunk someone else’s tea, Bai Qinglin figured he’d return the favor. He didn’t like owing people.
“Then next time, I’ll treat you to a drink. Anything you want.”
The words carried intention, but it depended on how the listener took them. Clearly, Bai Qinglin remained unmoved.
When the ginger tea was served, Zhu Jingru had just removed his scarf, revealing faint red marks on his neck, like the result of passionate kisses or forceful sucking.
“Enjoy,” Bai Qinglin said, lowering his head to meet Zhu Jingru’s gaze. His sharp, slightly upturned eyes indeed resembled a wolf’s, with a defined, elongated outline.
Zhu Jingru couldn’t quite handle the stare. Tilting his head back, he explained, “From a traditional Chinese medicine scraping session.”
Bai Qinglin didn’t respond, as if he didn’t understand why Zhu Jingru felt the need to clarify. As he turned away, he noticed someone had brushed against the waistband tied around his waist.
He didn’t bother with such small gestures.
Bai Qinglin’s expression remained unchanged as he returned to the counter to work.
The wind chime rang again. Not long after, a short-haired girl, accompanied by a friend, approached the counter to order, her voice loud. “Can I add you on WeChat?”
At the window seat, Zhu Jingru’s pen paused. He propped his head up, staring sideways.
Bai Qinglin was washing his hands and declined. “Sorry.”
The short-haired girl wasn’t ready to give up. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Not planning on it.”
The rejection was too blunt, and the girl left, barely concealing her embarrassment.
The nearby table was too noisy, so Zhu Jingru didn’t catch the rest of the conversation, but he could guess the scene. He’d already witnessed over the past few weeks how much Bai Qinglin attracted younger people.
Zhu Jingru continued sketching on a napkin, a strong sense of urgency creeping in. He needed to claim the “pursuer” spot first. His strokes became cleaner, more decisive.
As usual, Zhu Jingru left after sitting for an hour.
The shop grew quiet again with fewer customers. Bai Qinglin walked to the window seat to clean up, but his steps halted. His gaze deepened slightly as he bent down to pick up a piece of paper left on the table.
It was Zhu Jingru’s.
The napkin bore a drawing of a pair of hands tied behind the back with thin ropes, unmistakably masculine. The veins on the back of the hands were vividly detailed, the lines flowing smoothly until the fingertips hung naturally, exuding an overwhelming sense of sensuality.
Bai Qinglin gripped the paper, his knuckles bending slightly with effort. On the right side of his wrist was a faint mole, identical to the one drawn on the paper.
