Chapter 25 Brother-in-Law, Why Are You Here?

Chapter 25: Brother-in-Law, Why Are You Here?

Lin Wenjun leaned in for a closer look and saw that it really was. He turned the envelope over between his fingers and casually asked, "A friend of yours?"

"Kind of," Yuan Che replied quietly.

But in his heart, he no longer considered Yu Yizhou a "friend." To be precise, he wanted to stay away from anyone who had designs on Lin Zaishan. Though he had no solid proof, he felt that Yu Yizhou's gaze toward Lin Zaishan wasn't right. That clingy, smiling look was all too familiar to him, because it was the same way he himself looked at Lin Zaishan.

No matter what, he couldn't let that guy see Lin Zaishan again.

In truth, writing that letter had been agonizing. The tip of the pen pressed against the paper, every word hesitant, as if he were doing something shameful.

If he and Lin Zaishan weren't married yet, he wouldn't have minded going head-to-head with Yu Yizhou. Though his sister had "given" Lin Zaishan to him, he had no intention of giving him up to anyone. Even if he had to compete with ten thousand men, he was confident he'd beat them all—he firmly believed no one could take better care of Lin Zaishan than he could.

In the days they'd spent together, he'd slowly realized that Lin Zaishan's temper wasn't as easygoing as he'd thought. He got angry easily, loved saying the opposite of what he meant, and sometimes even threw a punch. Every time he saw Lin Zaishan lose his temper, it bothered him a little, but he'd already accepted all those little flaws in his own mind.

As he saw it, it was a good thing that his husband took his anger out on him.

Most of the time, Lin Zaishan was still gentle, so when he was upset, he naturally needed to let it out. Yuan Che hardly ever got mad and had never picked a fight with anyone. If he thought about it, weren't they the perfect match? Besides, if Lin Zaishan didn't get angry at others, didn't that mean he depended on Yuan Che and trusted him?

Now that they were married, Lin Zaishan was his, and he was Lin Zaishan's. He had to protect his marriage and keep his husband safe at all costs, even if it meant doing what he hated most—

Lying.

"Can you help me mail it?" he asked again, his tone sincere, almost pleading.

Lin Wenjun held the envelope in his hand, tilting his head to examine it from both sides. Yuan Che stared at his fingers, his heart was in his throat.

"Sure," Lin Wenjun agreed readily.

Yuan Che exhaled quietly in relief.

But before he could catch his breath, the other man spoke again.

"Mailing a letter isn't hard." Lin Wenjun stuffed the envelope into his pocket, then said slowly, "But if I help you, you have to help me get past my aunt first."

At the same moment, the music in the booth exploded back on without warning. The door swung open, and a crowd of heavily made-up men poured in. Yuan Che glanced at them and immediately looked away, his face unconsciously wrinkling in disgust.

"Could you say that again? I didn't catch it," he said, tilting his head slightly.

"I said—" Lin Wenjun leaned close to his ear, drawing out his words deliberately, "I can help you, but you've got to help me get past my aunt first."

Yuan Che didn't flinch. He just turned his head and looked at the face so close to his with a critical look.

"I'll tell Auntie that you've already introduced me to your friends."

"That's no fun." Lin Wenjun clicked his tongue, clearly unsatisfied with the perfunctory reply.

Yuan Che said nothing, just pulled back and looked the other man up and down, his expression asking, "Then what do you want?"

Lin Wenjun gave him a devilish smirk and nodded toward the glasses on the coffee table.

"How about this: you have a drink with me, deal?"

"Sure."

Yuan Che answered without hesitation.

His quick agreement clearly caught Lin Wenjun off guard. The man snorted, a teasing tone in his voice: "That easily?"

Yuan Che didn't answer. He just leaned forward to pour a drink, reaching for the bottle. The moment his fingertips touched the bottle, someone caught his wrist.

"Just drinking is boring." Lin Wenjun let go and pushed the dice cup on the coffee table toward him, sidling closer. "Let's play dice. Loser drinks. You know how to play? Liar's dice."

Yuan Che looked down at the dice cup, then back up at Lin Wenjun, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes—like a nice guy who didn't see it coming.

"I've never heard of it."

"I can teach you." Lin Wenjun tapped the dice cup, already laughing inside. This guy's such a rookie. He'd have him begging for mercy tonight.

"It's simple. You know bluffing, right? It's about who's got bigger balls."

Yuan Che lowered his eyes, as if seriously considering the offer. He could have refused outright, but Lin Wenjun still had that letter—the one he'd struggled to write, the one that would give him peace of mind.

After a few seconds of hesitation, he finally nodded slightly.

First round: they lifted the cups. Yuan Che lost. He dutifully downed a glass, wincing slightly at the burn of the liquor.

Lin Wenjun laughed out loud, his posture growing more relaxed.

Second round: Yuan Che seemed to catch on, following for two calls, but in the end, Lin Wenjun caught him again. He drank another glass, but his face wasn't even flushed yet. He just said quietly, "You're pretty good."

"Not bad." Lin Wenjun grinned proudly, refilling his own glass, thinking it was time to reel him in for the kill and get him to drink a few more.

Third round: Yuan Che's dice-shaking technique was still clumsy, but his call was steady.

"Four fives."

Lin Wenjun raised an eyebrow. Called.

"Six fours."

Lin Wenjun hesitated for a split second, glancing at Yuan Che's face. Kid, I was playing this game before you were born. He snorted. You think you can fool me?

"I call you!"

The dice cups were lifted. Under Yuan Che's cup were three fives and two fours.

Lin Wenjun froze.

When he added his own dice, the number of fours added up to exactly six.

Without a word, he downed his first glass.

Fourth round: Yuan Che started with a modest call, then suddenly jumped up two numbers in the middle, putting Lin Wenjun in an awkward spot. Lin Wenjun gritted his teeth and followed, only to be caught again.

Second glass.

Fifth round: Lin Wenjun was sitting up straight now, staring at Yuan Che's hands, trying to read a tell on that poker face. But Yuan Che stayed the same—never looking at him, only at the dice cup, occasionally frowning, like a good student trying to figure out a math problem.

"Five sixes," Yuan Che said.

Lin Wenjun didn't have a single six in his hand. He smirked. Finally! "Open!"

Yuan Che lifted his dice cup slowly. Three sixes lay inside, quiet as could be.

Lin Wenjun was speechless.

His third glass.

Then, it was like a switch had been flipped. Yuan Che's bids were as precise as flawless calculations—he never hesitated when he should raise, and never blinked when he bluffed. Every time Lin Wenjun thought he had found a weakness, revealing his dice only showed his mistake. Every time he thought Yuan Che was bluffing, Yuan Che would turn out to have the exact dice he claimed.

Yuan Che, the eldest brother's new-money brother-in-law from the sticks, sat there with that deadpan face, winning round after round. Lin Wenjun felt like he was trapped in a fine-meshed net—the more he struggled, the tighter it bound him.

"Eight threes." Yuan Che remained utterly unruffled.

Lin Wenjun was already a little drunk, his mind foggy. He looked at his own lone three, then at Yuan Che's utterly impassive face. His last shred of reason told him to call it a bluff.

"Call..."

The cup lifted. Yuan Che had four threes.

Lin Wenjun counted the total: five plus four equaled nine. One more than eight.

He fell silent. Tilting his head back, he downed the fourth glass. The alcohol hit his brain, and Yuan Che's face began to look double.

Lin Wenjun clinked his glass down on the table, his head buzzing, but he realized one thing with crystal clarity—he'd been played.

This seemingly simple nouveau riche had been playing dumb all along. He thought he was teasing a cat, but it turned out to be a leopard that flipped him over and made him eat dirt.

Humiliation! Total humiliation!

Lin Wenjun gasped for breath, the alcohol feeding his humiliation. But strangely, after the shame, a rush of heat shot up from his stomach into his chest.

He took a new look at the man across from him.

The private room was dim; Yuan Che's face was half-hidden in shadow, but his features were strikingly clear—clean brows and eyes, a straight nose, lips slightly pressed together. His face was undeniably innocent and gentle. Yet this same face, with the mildest tone, had talked him into drinking cup after cup until he was this wasted.

Lin Wenjun's throat suddenly felt dry.

He was gay to begin with, and after hanging out in the scene for so long, he'd seen all sorts. But a type like this—outwardly pure but inwardly...—he'd never encountered before. Usually, his preference leaned toward dark-skinned, rugged hunks, and this delicate, clean-cut look didn't usually do it for him. But now, with the alcohol hitting him and the atmosphere setting the mood, this "sweet-looking hunk" sitting there—that face, that neck, those long, slender fingers sliding his glass aside... Hmm, no matter how he looked at it, it was appealing.

Interesting.

Too interesting.

Lin Wenjun pushed himself up from the table, wobbled, and tipped straight toward Yuan Che. Yuan Che caught him quickly, but didn't let him fall into his arms—he held him at a distance, keeping a polite gap.

"Are you drunk?" Yuan Che's voice was still gentle and aloof.

"I'm not drunk." Lin Wenjun looked up, squinting at him, and reached out to grab his collar. "I'm asking you—did you do that on purpose just now?"

Yuan Che turned slightly to dodge his hand, still polite: "Why don't you sit down first?"

"I don't want to." Lin Wenjun leaned in, his breath heavy with alcohol, but he laughed recklessly. "Yuan Che, right? I find you... pretty interesting."

With that, he reached for Yuan Che's face again.

This time Yuan Che didn't dodge, but caught his wrist. He wasn't using force, but he held him firmly at a distance. Looking down at Lin Wenjun, there was a barely hidden look of disgust in his eyes, but his expression remained mild.

"I'm going home."

"I'm not—"

Before he could finish, the door of the private room swung open.

Light from the nightclub corridor streamed in, silhouetting a tall figure. The man wore an immaculate shirt, buttoned to the top, radiating an aloof, distinguished air.

Lin Wenjun squinted at him, and the alcohol shock seemed to sober him halfway—Brother!

He instinctively sat up straight, pulled his hand away from Yuan Che's arm, and pressed his back firmly against the sofa. He hadn't done anything, but his whole motion reeked of overcompensation.

Yuan Che, however, had already stood up. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, then he asked softly, "Brother-in-law, why are you here?"

His tone held a faint note of surprise and delight. Though his expression barely changed, it was completely different from the polite, wooden way he'd handled Lin Wenjun earlier. Even in his drunken state, Lin Wenjun caught that subtle difference.

Lin Zaishan didn't reply. He just swept a glance over the two and reached up to turn on the room's overhead light.

When the ceiling light came on, everyone who had been drinking and carrying on paused, squinting toward the door. It wasn't a close-knit party, but someone recognized Lin Wenjun's older brother. Everyone knew that no matter how flashy Lin Wenjun was, he was terrified of his brother. Glancing at Lin Wenjun's sour face on the sofa, the perceptive ones started quietly slipping out.

Lin Wenjun mostly recovered his senses. He hurriedly stood up, but he'd had too much to drink, and his legs wobbled. Yuan Che, quick as always, steadied him with a hand.

That touch made Lin Wenjun's heart skip, even in his panic, and his thoughts drifted. Yuan Che was tall to begin with, and as his arm tensed, the contact radiated a young man's masculine charm. On top of his drunken haze, Lin Wenjun actually sensed a hint of gentlemanly grace in this nouveau riche.

Not bad.

He squinted, about to say thanks, when Lin Zaishan grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out.

Lin Wenjun stumbled, nearly crashing into his brother. Yuan Che instinctively raised an arm to help—

"You stay right there."

Lin Zaishan's face was expressionless, his voice quiet, but those few words pinned Yuan Che to the spot.

By then, the room was nearly empty. Only An'an remained, touching up his makeup in a corner mirror. Lin Zaishan's sudden shout made him jump, smearing lip gloss across his cheek. He looked up at the three locked in a standoff, realized there was trouble, shoved everything into his bag, and slipped out.

But before leaving, he winked at Yuan Che, then whispered, "See you, handsome."

Yuan Che heard him. He hadn't planned to respond, but thought it would be rude, so he nodded politely and said, "Goodbye."

Lin Zaishan watched from the side, his expression souring.

Lin Wenjun's legs felt weaker. He knew Lin Zaishan too well. That expression meant he was mad. But mad about what? He just took his brother-in-law out for a drink? Lin Wenjun's mind was foggy; he just felt unlucky—running into his big brother, of all people.

"Brother..." he stammered, about to explain, when he realized Lin Zaishan wasn't even looking at him.

That made him even more nervous. He was about to speak again, but Lin Zaishan spoke first—

"Looks like you haven't had your fill yet?"

Lin Wenjun blinked, even more confused.

Because that remark was directed at Yuan Che.