Chapter 9

Chapter 9

When Shen Ling said this, his tone was full of dazed confusion, like someone who'd just stumbled on a question they'd never thought to ask before.

Crying is a human instinct—you cry when you're sad, when you're wronged, when you're overwhelmed. Tears are the most illogical thing in the world. Growing up, Shen Ling had always been like this—he cried more easily than anyone, and his eyes went red faster than anyone's.

But today, from the moment Huo Yanshen carried him back until now, he could feel emotions churning in his chest, yet his eyes stayed bone-dry.

Shen Ling felt Huo Yanshen's arms tighten, pulling him snugly into his embrace.

He looked up and blurted out, "...Am I sick?"

Huo Yanshen looked down at him. Shen Ling's eyes were bright red—he looked like he could cry at any second, but his eyes were completely dry.

He stared at him for a long moment, then reached out, his thumb brushing gently over Shen Ling's flushed eyelid.

"You're not sick," Huo Yanshen said.

Huo Yanshen bent down and pressed his lips gently to Shen Ling's burning eyelid. "It's okay that you can't cry."

"I'm here."

Shen Ling wasn't sure if he should believe him. Huo Yanshen said he wasn't sick, but his heart still felt hollow. All he could do was burrow deeper into Huo Yanshen's chest.

"...Then just hold me."

Huo Yanshen's arm circled his back, palm pressed against his shoulder blade, like he was shielding him from the storm outside.

A knock came at the cabin door—the hangover soup they'd ordered earlier had arrived. Huo Yanshen fed it to him spoonful by spoonful, then used a warm towel to wipe away the sticky mess on his skin, testing the towel's temperature again and again before pressing it to him.

Shen Ling's eyes were half-closed as he let Huo Yanshen fuss over him, drowsiness finally washing over him.

By the time Huo Yanshen had cleaned him up, pulled the blanket over him, and gathered him into his arms, Shen Ling was already asleep against his chest.

*

The next morning, Shen Ling groggily opened his eyes to find himself curled up completely in Huo Yanshen's arms.

Huo Yanshen was already awake, leaning against the headboard reading documents. He looked up from the papers. "Awake?"

Shen Ling's mind was still foggy. He mumbled, "...Yeah, I'm awake."

"S-sorry, sorry, I'll move now."

He pushed himself up on the mattress to roll away—but the second he put weight on his thighs, a weird sensation shot through him.

"..."

Shen Ling wasn't exactly inexperienced. It took him zero seconds to figure out what had gone down last night.

He quietly pressed his legs together, then realized that was way too obvious, so he pretended nothing was wrong and buried himself under the blanket.

Huo Yanshen had already sat up. Watching Shen Ling hide his face under the covers like an ostrich, he reached over and pulled the blanket down to reveal his flushed face.

"It's noon. Get up and eat something."

Shen Ling peeked out one eye to check the time. 11:40.

He'd slept all the way to noon.

Actually, Huo Yanshen had tried to wake him once that morning.

When breakfast arrived at 7:30, Huo Yanshen had tried to coax Shen Ling out of his arms, but Shen Ling was like a boneless creature—his eyelids fluttered twice without opening, and his face tipped right back into the crook of Huo Yanshen's shoulder.

Huo Yanshen fed a shrimp dumpling to Shen Ling's lips. He frowned and grumbled, reluctantly taking a bite. When the second one came, Shen Ling pressed his lips together and refused to eat another bite.

Seeing how exhausted he was, Huo Yanshen couldn't bring himself to wake him again. So he only fed him two shrimp dumplings and his morning meds, then let Shen Ling curl up in his arms and sink back into a deep sleep.

But what good were two little shrimp dumplings?

He'd only had a bowl of porridge last night, and just that little bit this morning—how could his baby handle being this hungry?

Huo Yanshen tucked Shen Ling back into the blankets, then immediately ordered that lunch absolutely had to be done right.

So when Shen Ling sat down at the table, he nearly got blinded by what he saw.

The salmon had been flown in on a cold-chain flight that morning. The black truffles had just been auctioned off the night before. The king crab was beautifully broken down and arranged on a bed of ice, the leg meat snowy white and plump—shipped straight from Alaskan waters that very morning.

Even the plain-looking plate of seasonal veggies was direct from an organic farm, harvested that same day.

Oh my god, isn't this way too extravagant for lunch?

So as Shen Ling ate, he started feeling guilty again. Huo Yanshen was so good to him, and he had no way to pay him back.

Shen Ling racked his brain, then said very seriously,

"Don't worry. I'll take care of you when you're old."

"..."

Huo Yanshen was quiet for a moment, then said, "I'm only twenty-eight."

Shen Ling realized how that sounded and quickly waved his hands. "N-no, I didn't mean you're old. I mean—like, when you're older, I can take care of you. I can bring you tea and water..."

Huo Yanshen's brow furrowed even deeper.

He got a full physical twice a year, had a private medical team tracking his health at all times, and managed his body down to the nutritional ratio of every meal.

In his past life, he'd left Shen Ling alone in this world for so long. If he ever let it get to the point where Shen Ling had to bring him tea and water in his old age, he'd truly be useless.

Huo Yanshen: "I don't need you to take care of me in my old age. That day will never come."

Okay, then. He'd said the wrong thing again.

Shen Ling slowly lowered his head, obediently picked up a piece of salmon, stuffed it in his mouth, and chewed miserably, pretending nothing had happened.

When Shen Ling finally set down his chopsticks and leaned back in his chair, contentedly licking the corner of his mouth, Huo Yanshen got up.

Two suits hung in the wardrobe. Unlike yesterday's small private gathering, tonight was a formal business banquet on the ship—and besides, Huo Yanshen had brought Shen Ling here with other intentions. There was no room for sloppiness in how they dressed.

Shen Ling slipped on the jacket, buttoned it up, turned around, and spread his arms. "I'm dressed."

Huo Yanshen glanced at him, walked over, and re-did Shen Ling's suit buttons one by one, then tucked the shirt hem back into his trousers, smoothing the fabric inch by inch.

Shen Ling stood still obediently, chin tilted up, letting himself be arranged. Like a doll in a glass display case, blinking, waiting for someone to dress him up.

Huo Yanshen stepped back half a step and took a look.

The shoulder line under Shen Ling's suit was lean and clean, the hem falling in a natural arc—obedient and refined.

"Let's go."

*

Shen Ling followed Huo Yanshen into the hall, where light cascaded down and the room was a swirl of perfumed elegance and clinking glasses.

"Nervous?" Huo Yanshen's voice came from above.

Shen Ling was spacing out, only to realize he'd unconsciously been gripping Huo Yanshen's sleeve so hard it had wrinkled.

Shen Ling quickly smoothed the crease out with his fingers: "A little nervous. What's your cousin like?"

"She's a talker," Huo Yanshen said simply.

Shen Ling: "..."

As the two were speaking, a bright, vibrant female voice came from not far away: "Cousin—"

Shen Ling followed the sound and saw a woman weaving through the crowd toward them. She wore a dark green velvet dress, her black hair coiled into a low bun, her stride light and confident.

Huo Yanshen went over and gave a slight nod.

Chen Xitong's gaze immediately fell on Shen Ling. Huo Yanshen rarely brought anyone to such occasions, let alone brought someone straight to her.

"And this is?" Chen Xitong asked.

"Shen Ling, the designer I brought along," Huo Yanshen said.

Shen Ling's heart gave a small lurch.

If Huo Yanshen had introduced him as his partner, Chen Xitong would surely have accepted the brooch for Huo Yanshen's sake. But by not introducing him, Huo Yanshen was leaving the decision entirely up to her.

Shen Ling kept his expression neutral and extended the velvet box.

"Miss Chen, a pleasure to meet you. This is a brooch I made. I heard from Mr. Huo that you have a love for pearls—I hope you'll like it."

Chen Xitong took the box and opened it.

The brooch inside rested quietly on the velvet.

She looked at it for a moment, and when she looked up, her tone had changed: "The setting is handmade?"

Shen Ling felt a little embarrassed by her gaze and nodded: "Yes, it's handmade."

"That's gorgeous," Chen Xitong said sincerely. "Are you a designer from the mainland? How have I never seen you before? If there were anyone in Hong Kong with this kind of skill, I'd have heard of them by now."

Shen Ling was about to answer when Huo Yanshen's voice cut in first.

"You two talk."

With only those words, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Shen Ling knew Huo Yanshen was giving him space to breathe, so he continued: "Yes, I'm from the mainland. I'm still pretty new to the field and have a lot to learn."

But Chen Xitong wasn't having any of his modesty. She looped her arm through Shen Ling's and said, "Hold on—I'm taking you to meet someone."

"...Huh?"

"Quit with the 'huh.' Wouldn't it be a shame to let talent like yours go to waste?"

Chen Xitong led Shen Ling to a relatively quiet corner on the third deck.

A man was standing by the railing on the phone, in his early thirties, with a refined, gentlemanly air.

Chen Xitong walked up to him and naturally looped her arm through his.

The man hung up and looked down at her: "Tired of me already?"

"Who's tired of you? I'm bringing someone to meet you." Chen Xitong pulled Shen Ling over. "Zhou Lin, this is Shen Ling. He's also a jewelry designer from the mainland. He just gave me a brooch—it's really pretty."

Zhou Lin's gaze landed on Shen Ling, and he gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, not exactly warm.

"Shen Ling?" His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.

Shen Ling's stomach dropped—he was used to that reaction by now.

Sure enough, Zhou Lin mulled it over for a moment, then spoke: "Are you that Shen Ling from the Hai City Academy of Fine Arts?"

Chen Xitong sensed something: "You two know each other?"

Shen Ling lowered his eyes: "I imagine you've heard of me, Mr. Zhou."

As for all that dirty business with Liu Xian, Chen Xitong had grown up in Hong Kong, so it made sense she wouldn't know. But Zhou Lin, who spent most of his time in the mainland, would have heard the rumors.

But there was one thing Zhou Lin couldn't figure out. About a month ago, the name Shen Ling suddenly started moving again, though most designers were still wary and hesitant to reach out.

Zhou Lin hadn't paid it much mind before—that kind of thing wasn't uncommon, usually someone had pulled strings behind the scenes, and it was none of his business anyway.

But now, that had changed.

His wife was currently hanging off this Shen Ling's arm, grinning like she'd struck gold.

Zhou Lin quietly weighed his options.

"Let me see this design of yours, Mr. Shen?" Zhou Lin said.

Chen Xitong flashed the brooch at her collar. Zhou Lin examined it for a moment: "Pretty good."

He pulled a business card from his inner jacket pocket. "This is my personal contact. Let's find a time to sit down and talk properly."

Chen Xitong was clearly pleased with this reaction, and pulled Shen Ling along: "Come on, let's go check out the pieces on display tonight. A few of the people here are serious collectors, and the pieces they've brought are quite interesting."

The exhibition area was set up in the main hall on the first floor, with all four walls temporarily converted into glass display cases.

The two of them quietly browsed the exhibits separately.

Until a series of footsteps and muffled laughter came from behind.

Shen Ling didn't pay it any mind—his attention was entirely on the brooches in the display cases—but the voices grew closer.

One of them suddenly stopped in his tracks: "Hey, isn't that...?"

Another voice quickly cut in: "Shh—don't say anything!"

Shen Ling slowly turned around and saw three or four people standing at the entrance of the exhibition hall.

Leading them was a man in a black suit. Shen Ling recognized him—Sun Yu.

One of Liu Xian's favored disciples.

Sun Yu clearly recognized Shen Ling too, his expression shifting. He held back the person beside him who was about to speak, and the group casually veered off in another direction.

But Shen Ling did not move.

Chen Xitong turned around and caught sight of his profile. She noticed his hand hanging at his side, his fingertips trembling slightly.

"...Shen Ling?" she called softly.

Shen Ling stared in the direction the group had gone. His body felt as if it had been ripped from the warm, bright banquet hall and hurled back into some dark place he didn't want to recall.

He stood still, his fingers curling at his sides, nails digging into his palms, leaving deep crescent-shaped marks, almost drawing blood without his noticing.

—This was the first sign of a panic attack.

Shen Ling's heart pounded violently in his chest, like a needle piercing through from the depths of memory, through layers of time, to strike him precisely in this moment.

"Mr. Shen?" Chen Xitong's voice reached him from far away.

Shen Ling snapped back to reality. He blinked, realizing the edges of his vision were already going spotty, the image dimming from the periphery toward the center.

"I..." Shen Ling said quietly. "Miss Chen, I must excuse myself. I need to use the restroom."

The moment the words left his mouth, he fled, as if escaping.