Chapter 39 The Argument

Chapter 39: Sparks Fly

After all, it had been quite a while since they'd seen each other—though it was only a week, it felt longer than a year to Pei Zhi.

On top of that, yesterday, after Lin Xishan learned that Pei Zhi was going to have his promotional photos taken, he had flat-out refused his request for a helping hand.

The reason was to keep him in top shape.

So after Pei Zhi finished his part of the shoot, he practically dragged Lin Xishan out of there early.

Of course, in front of others, Pei Zhi still kept up his usual cold, aloof act.

"Since my part's done, I'm heading out," Pei Zhi said coolly.

Jiang Muye scratched his head, confused: "Hey, you're leaving already? Why don't we all grab a meal together after we're done?"

Pei Zhi's stare turned even frostier.

Zhou Yan jumped in to save Jiang Muye: "Yeah, go on, take off. I heard Xiao Lin doesn't get many days off for winter break anyway. Pei Zhi, you don't need to come to rehearsal tomorrow."

Pei Zhi dialed back the hostility: "Fine."

"Hey, why—" Jiang Muye was cut off mid-sentence as Gu Zhou clamped a hand over his mouth.

This is saving your life, you clueless kid.

Gu Zhou kept one hand on Jiang Muye while waving goodbye with the other.

Pei Zhi didn't acknowledge it, but Lin Xishan waved back before being pulled away by Pei Zhi.

"Zero sense of tact," Gu Zhou sighed as he finally released Jiang Muye's mouth once they were far away.

Pei Zhi and Lin Xishan really went at it this time.

How bad? Bad enough to break skin.

Red, swollen, and honestly kinda pitiful.

Lin Xishan's hands were killing him.

"How about we just go for it—"

Lin Xishan shot it down immediately: "No."

"Why not?" Pei Zhi dug in his heels.

"Doctor's orders." Lin Xishan pulled him in for a kiss as he said it.

Pei Zhi tried to dodge, didn't manage it, and muttered, "Dirty."

"What's dirty? It's all mine. If I'm not grossed out, why are you?" Lin Xishan said with a smile.

"I still want more." Pei Zhi was always scary direct about what he wanted.

Lin Xishan: "It's already swollen, dude!"

"Then be gentle about it." Pei Zhi wasn't letting it drop.

So yeah, you can't bottle things up. Pei Zhi had held back too long, and the explosion was brutal.

Lin Xishan sighed, thinking he should buy some hand cream for himself.

Happy times always flew by way too fast. After days and nights of nonstop... activity, Lin Xishan soon had to return to school to continue with the project. But he didn't move back to the dorm; instead, he grabbed some clothes and moved into Pei Zhi's rental.

He told himself it was to keep an eye on Pei Zhi.

The guy was like a kid. Loved snacks, hated real meals, skipped breakfast, walked around barefoot all day, and always forgot his meds.

He was older and looked pretty intimidating, but he was the one who needed taking care of.

Ah, the happy kind of problem.

The young master had become a caretaker out of love.

—Though his method of "managing" him was a bit risqué—like refusing to help him out if he misbehaved—but it worked like a charm.

During winter break, he was at the project group from morning to night. Right after they got back, Professor Chen announced the presentation would be at the partner company's office, and he couldn't make it because he had other stuff going on.

Even Shen Zhiyi was a bit nervous about Professor Chen not being there, but Lin Xishan was totally chill.

Nothing could be more stressful than reporting to Lin Yuanzhou.

His dad had basically made a hobby of crushing him, calling it "stress tolerance training."

But after all that "training," his stress tolerance had actually improved.

You could call it a blessing in disguise. During that time, his mom was pissed at his dad over the inheritance plan, so she took it out on him.

Anyway, that's a tangent.

The presentation was set for Wednesday afternoon at Yunding Tower, out in the west part of the city. The partner company sent a rep—a partner at a VC firm named Shen Jiming.

Lin Xishan showed up ten minutes early, figuring he'd be first, but when he pushed the door open, someone was already there.

The guy was in a dark gray suit, no tie, top button of his shirt undone, reading through the materials the team had sent ahead.

He looked up at the sound of the door, revealing a sharp but gentle face. Hard to pin his age—early thirties, maybe.

He stood up—half a head shorter than Lin Xishan, but solid. When he offered his hand, it felt naturally warm, not pushy.

No wonder he'd made partner so young.

"Lin Xishan?" He smiled. "Professor Chen has mentioned you to me many times. I'm Shen Jiming."

Lin Xishan shook his hand—dry, warm palm—but Shen Jiming's gaze lingered on his face half a second too long, like he was checking something, before letting go.

"Good to meet you, Mr. Shen." Lin Xishan pulled out a chair and sat down, opening his laptop, not noticing that extra half-second.

The others trickled in after him, greeted Shen Jiming, and sat down looking stiff.

When the time came, the presentation began.

It went smoothly.

The seniors weren't messing around—anyone who got into Professor Chen's group had real chops.

When Shen Jiming asked questions, he looked the speaker straight in the eye, listened closely, nodded now and then, and scribbled a few notes.

When it was Lin Xishan's turn to answer, he asked a couple of follow-up questions on the details. The questions were professional, not the usual empty small talk.

Lin Xishan gave a precise answer, and Shen Jiming nodded with satisfaction.

After the presentation, Shen Jiming had his assistant gather the materials, then stood up and walked over to Lin Xishan.

"The idea you just mentioned is really interesting," he said, pulling a business card from his pocket and handing it over. "Here's my contact information. I'll follow up with Professor Chen, but if you're personally interested in this field, we can chat one-on-one."

Lin Xishan took the card and glanced at it—black background with white text, clean design, that read "Qingyun Capital · Shen Jiming."

This was the person he had wanted to connect with when he joined Professor Chen's project team.

"Thank you, Mr. Shen. I'll consider it." He tucked the card into the inside pocket of his backpack and gave a polite smile.

Shen Jiming nodded without another word, then turned and left with his assistant.

"Lucky you—he gave you his card." Shen Zhiyi walked over and elbowed him in the ribs.

"It's still early days," Lin Xishan said modestly.

"Tsk tsk tsk. I've been in Professor Chen's group for ages and never got one. But honestly, yours was the best presentation." Shen Zhiyi said it matter-of-factly. "Alright, let's go. We still need to get back and do some data collection today."

"Let's go." Lin Xishan slung his bag over his shoulder and took a cab back to campus.

Over the next two weeks, their contact grew more frequent. Most of it was work-related—confirming data, adjusting plans, and wrapping up the report.

Occasionally, Shen Jiming would tack on a personal question after a work email, like whether his course load was heavy or what his plans were after the project ended.

Lin Xishan replied to all of them without reading too much into them. In his view, Shen Jiming, like Professor Chen, was the kind of industry veteran who valued talent, and such questions were perfectly normal.

Only once did Shen Jiming ask on WeChat if he wanted to grab a meal together, saying a friend's startup was hiring and he could introduce them.

Lin Xishan politely declined, saying it was finals week and he was too busy—maybe once things calmed down. Shen Jiming replied with "No problem," followed by a smiley emoji.

It was that same evening that Pei Zhi saw the message.

Lin Xishan's phone was on the coffee table, and when the screen lit up, he was in the kitchen warming up milk for Pei Zhi.

Pei Zhi was sitting on the sofa, tuning his guitar. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the name on the screen followed by a smiley face, and his fingers paused on the strings.

He picked up the phone and unlocked the screen.

Lin Xishan's password was his birthday—Pei Zhi knew this.

The chat history wasn't long—mostly work stuff.

Pei Zhi scrolled through it one message at a time, his expression unchanged. Shen Jiming's wording was polite, and Lin Xishan's replies were measured. There was nothing out of line from start to finish.

But when Pei Zhi saw the line "Want to grab a meal together?" something clenched in his gut.

He put the phone back on the coffee table and went back to tuning his guitar.

Lin Xishan came out of the kitchen with two mugs of warm milk, handed one to him, and sat down next to him. He picked up his phone, glanced at it, then set it face-down on the table without replying. He took a sip of his milk.

Pei Zhi plucked a string, producing a sour note.

"What's wrong?" Lin Xishan turned to look at him.

"Who's Shen Jiming?" Pei Zhi asked.

"A partner at a venture capital firm. He's the project's collaborator," Lin Xishan said. "I mentioned him to you before."

"You didn't tell me he's pursuing you." Pei Zhi was starting to spiral.

Lin Xishan froze for a moment, then laughed: "Pursuing me? He's not you—don't overthink it."

Pei Zhi set the guitar aside and stood up. He picked up Lin Xishan's phone from the coffee table, unlocked it, opened the chat with Shen Jiming, and read aloud: "'Want to grab a meal together?' 'No problem, another time works too.' 'There's a project you might be interested in recently—want to chat when you're free?' 'I'll be near your campus next week for something—want to grab a coffee while I'm there?'"

He finished reading and turned the screen toward Lin Xishan, his gaze calm but sharp: "You think these are normal work conversations?"

Lin Xishan's smile faded. He took the phone and set it face-down on the table again: "Pei Zhi, you were going through my phone."

"The password is your birthday—you told me."

"I told you the password so you could use it, not so you could snoop through my messages." Lin Xishan's voice was still steady, but with more weight behind it.

Pei Zhi didn't respond to that. His eyelashes fluttered, but he didn't look away: "You haven't answered my question."

"What question?"

"Do you think these are normal work conversations?" he repeated, word by word. "He's asking you out."

"He can ask, but that doesn't mean I said yes." Lin Xishan stood up, facing Pei Zhi. "I turned down his dinner invitation, and I didn't reply to his last message. You saw all that in the chat history. If you've read everything and still think there's something between us, then do you not trust him, or do you not trust me?"

Pei Zhi's fingers clenched, then unclenched.

He looked at the frankness and confusion written all over Lin Xishan's face, and the knot in his chest just got tighter.

Of course he trusted Lin Xishan. What he didn't trust was everyone else.

He didn't believe anyone could see Lin Xishan and not develop feelings for him.

What kind of man was Shen Jiming? A partner at a venture capital firm—gentle, accomplished, respectable, clean-cut.

A hundred times better than Pei Zhi.

"I don't distrust you," Pei Zhi said, his voice sounding strained. "I just don't trust that guy."

"You don't even know him." Lin Xishan stated matter-of-factly.

"I don't need to know him. I just know he's getting close to you, and I'm not going to let that happen."

Lin Xishan let out a soft laugh: "You won't allow it. Pei Zhi, what do you think I am—a possession or a person?"

Pei Zhi opened his mouth, but the word "person" got stuck in his throat and refused to come out.

Not because he thought of Lin Xishan as a "possession." But because he realized he could no longer tell the difference between the two things.

Lin Xishan was his medicine, his anchor, the reason he opened his eyes every morning. But he also knew that Lin Xishan was an independent, free person—not something he could keep in his pocket, not a painkiller he could grab whenever he wanted.

He knew. He knew all of this.

But the moment he thought of someone trying to get close to Lin Xishan, the violence that wanted to tear every would-be suitor apart rose up from deep inside him.

"I..." Pei Zhi's voice caught.

Lin Xishan looked at him, waited for about ten seconds. Then he picked up his jacket from the sofa, took his scarf from the hook, and wound it around his neck, loop by loop.

"I'm heading back to the dorm tonight," he said.

Pei Zhi did not speak. He stood there, his back straight, his pale golden hair looking especially soft under the warm yellow light of the living room, but his lips were pressed into a thin line, the cut on his lower lip—from where he'd bitten it earlier—hadn't healed yet.

Lin Xishan walked to the door, swapped his shoes, and pulled it open.

The cold wind rushed in, setting the wind chimes in the entryway jingling.

He lingered at the door for a few seconds without looking back.

"Pei Zhi," he said, his voice carried thin on the wind, "I'm not angry."