As soon as Huang Chen stepped in, he caught sight of Zhu Jingru and Bai Qinglin in what seemed like an ambiguous stance. From his perspective, the shop manager Bai, leaning against the wall with his head lowered, didn’t look like he was smoking so much as flirting with his boss, cigarette in mouth. The two men standing face-to-face almost seemed to be kissing… Huang Chen really didn’t want to interrupt, but nature called, and he had to pass through the smoking area to reach the restroom.
This was also the first time Huang Chen had seen two guys being so close, and it was oddly thrilling. Without thinking, he blurted out, “Boss, Manager, are you two done kissing?”
“…”
Bai Qinglin’s expression didn’t change. The hand holding his cigarette curled slightly. He glanced at Huang Chen before returning his gaze to Zhu Jingru’s face.
When a rejection is laid out so plainly, most people would feel humiliated, no matter what.
Yet Zhu Jingru visibly remained unfazed, the curve of his lips unchanged, responding with a bright smile, “Understood, very clear.”
The two fell into another silent stare, and Zhu Jingru, seemingly unaware of what embarrassment or shyness meant, waited until Bai Qinglin looked away first.
Zhu Jingru wasn’t genuinely disappointed—it was expected. This rejection felt oddly satisfying, whether intentional or not.
He lowered his voice and said to Bai Qinglin, “I’ll go clear things up with that guy first.”
As they brushed past each other, Bai Qinglin took a faint drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke through his nose that quickly dissipated into the air.
Huang Chen followed his boss into the restroom, curiosity getting the better of him. “You sealed the deal that fast?”
“Far from it,” Zhu Jingru replied. The faint scent of Bai Qinglin lingered at the tip of his nose—probably laundry detergent, some brand he didn’t know, but it smelled better than the cologne he mixed himself.
“But didn’t you two just…” Huang Chen’s mind wandered to inappropriate territory. “Or does it only count if you go get a room?”
“Just borrowing a light.”
“Who borrows a light mouth-to-mouth like that?”
Huang Chen’s muttered comment sparked something in Zhu Jingru. As the saying goes, no merchant succeeds without cunning, and they were both seasoned players in the game.
He had deliberately made his intentions obvious, trying to get closer step by step.
But Big Ice Cube, watching coldly from the sidelines, had long sensed something was off. Ignoring it at first, now that it was out in the open, he rejected it outright, leaving no room for ambiguity.
Zhu Jingru figured he’d acted impulsively, trying to steal a chicken only to lose the rice. He’d meant to tease, but ended up being the one “teased” instead.
If it were someone less thick-skinned, that “not interested” line might have scared them off.
Zhu Jingru touched his face, satisfied. Good, still thick enough.
At the dinner, there’s always a natural star, and Zhu Jingru was it. He was talkative, able to chat with anyone about anything.
Bai Qinglin, used to silence, had his coat draped over the back of his chair, his sleeves secured with armbands, his gray shirt rolled up halfway. Sitting there, he didn’t disrupt the atmosphere.
The group’s teasing and banter never stopped, glasses clinking, dishes tossed into the hotpot.
Their seats were close, and Bai Qinglin’s elbow accidentally brushed against Zhu Jingru. His movement froze instantly. His first sensation was that Zhu Jingru’s body temperature was low. The slight contact between skin felt cool, soft, and smooth.
Zhu Jingru hadn’t drunk in a while, and the alcohol went to his head, reddening the corners of his eyes. His voice took on an inexplicably soft tone, as if he could read minds, looking at Bai Qinglin. “Not cold, just how I am.”
Bai Qinglin pulled back and said offhandedly, “Drink less.”
Zhu Jingru seized the opportunity. “Got it, I won’t drink as much next time.”
Bai Qinglin didn’t respond further, raising his hand to deal with toasts. He barely touched the food, his shirt collar slightly loose, his posture still restrained, exuding a strong sense of detachment.
Polite but not joining in the liveliness, he seemed to exist in a more serious setting, apart from the noisy scene.
Soon, the calm was broken. Zhu Jingru’s fingertips brushed Bai Qinglin’s hand, fleetingly, not like a deliberate flirt but more like curiosity. “Brother Bai, you’re so warm.”
Bai Qinglin reflexively furrowed his brow, his arm tensing as if facing a threat. He forcibly suppressed the restless feeling, staying silent for a moment before throwing Zhu Jingru’s words back at him flatly.
“Same as you, just how I am.”
