Chapter 10: The Veil of Maya (10)
On a summer evening, the dining room on the first floor faced the garden. The faint sounds of birdsong and cicadas could hardly drown out the almost entwined breathing of the two men.
Wen Mingwei seemed truly intoxicated; at least the alcohol had some effect on his spirit.
“Why aren’t you answering? Was my invitation too abrupt?” he murmured softly. “Even if we spend the night together, tomorrow will be as usual. I won’t force you to define our relationship.”
“...”
Light filtered through his hair, casting ambiguous shadows on Tan Zhao. The latter, constrained by posture, tilted his head back, jaw clenched tightly, and said, “No.”
The refusal was straightforward, yet Tan Zhao’s hand secretly gripped the edge of the table, wrinkling the tablecloth. His neck was stiff, and under Wen Mingwei’s shadow, his skin flushed with a subtle redness.
Wen Mingwei took it all in and chuckled sincerely, “You’re so innocent.”
Tan Zhao’s face stiffened along with his neck, and a faint dark aura flared, “Watch your words.”
“Oh, I understand,” Wen Mingwei replied, “'Innocent' and 'adorable' are both compliments that young masters dislike.”
“...”
Tan Zhao snorted coldly, “I just don’t want to be so casual. If there’s no emotional foundation, what’s the difference between people and animals?”
That was a firm rejection. Wen Mingwei straightened, brushing away the dark hair that shrouded Tan Zhao like a cloud, and returned to his seat with a smile.
“But I already have an emotional foundation with you,” he said. “So apparently, a one-sided foundation doesn’t count.”
“Of course not.”
Avoiding his gaze, Tan Zhao picked up his drink to take another sip, only to find the glass empty, with just half a bottle of leftover red wine on the table.
The meal had grown cold. If this were a date, it had indeed reached the nighttime stage.
Wen Mingwei called the butler over, ordering a dessert for Tan Zhao and bringing fresh drinks. He continued drinking slowly, barely finishing half a glass over a long while.
Suddenly, he said, “Tan Zhao, I’m a bit curious.”
“What?”
“Why were you so resistant to love before, even unwilling to be pursued?”
“...”
Tan Zhao paused, as if about to give the usual concise answer of “asexual,” which was straightforward and effective.
But Wen Mingwei’s question was sincere. After a moment of silence, Tan Zhao said, “Those people are annoying.”
“...Like who?”
“Every suitor looks at me with pitiful eyes.”
He plucked a blueberry from the dessert, biting coldly, “You can tell at a glance what they want to get from you.”
“...”
“Maybe it’s money, maybe love. Regardless, I have no obligation to reciprocate, right?”
Wen Mingwei listened with interest and nodded.
Tan Zhao continued, “The more I ignore them, the more they grovel and humble themselves, playing the role of the weak victim. Even if I do nothing, I get accused of being rude, unchivalrous, lacking empathy, and even cold-hearted...”
Wen Mingwei laughed softly and listened as Tan Zhao added, “Besides, I can feel that they don’t really like me. When they can’t win me over, they give up immediately and move on to another target.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. Isn’t love just that boring?”
Tan Zhao unconsciously adopted a mature tone, as if he understood it all. Yet the youthful arrogance couldn’t be suppressed—his diamond earring on his left ear sparkled under the light, dazzling enough to make one’s eyes ache.
Wen Mingwei took it in, reflected for two seconds, then said, “So my approach to pursuing you is not to be too weak, so it’s not like moral coercion, but also not to give up easily, so I don’t seem insincere, right?”
“That’s not entirely right.” Tan Zhao felt uneasy if he didn’t make things difficult. “I don’t like overly forceful people either.”
Wen Mingwei immediately smiled, “Am I forceful? I don’t think so.”
Tan Zhao didn’t say yes or no, but seriously said, “Anyway, you ought to curb those little quirks you share with your older brothers. Don’t look at me like I’m a child, and don’t use inappropriate words to describe me—you’re only a few years older than I am, right?”
“Seven years.”
“Oh,” Tan Zhao scoffed, “Only seven years. You could even call me ‘brother’ in return.”
“...”
Wen Mingwei almost choked on his drink.
“What’s wrong?” Tan Zhao frowned at his overreaction. “Never seen it before? Li Yue once dated a girlfriend eight years his senior who kept calling him ‘brother,’ to the point that everyone thought Li Yue was older.”
“...”
Wen Mingwei slowly wiped the corner of his mouth and set down his glass. “That’s flirting between lovers though. I’m not your boyfriend, so it’s not appropriate, right?”
“I’m not asking you to call me that now.”
“Meaning later?”
Wen Mingwei followed the thread, “When exactly is ‘later’? Tan Zhao, how long do you want me to pursue you?”
“It’s only been a few days. Are you already impatient?” Tan Zhao stared at Wen Mingwei like a judge, as if trying to foresee the future and pin down when he might give up.
Unfortunately, the human eye only sees the present moment.
In this moment, Wen Mingwei’s patience and tenderness were profound. Behind thin glasses, his deep eyes shimmered with a faint light. For a long time, he said nothing, quietly gazing at Tan Zhao, as if having this person before him made his life complete.
Tan Zhao failed to find fault and bowed his head, focusing on his dessert.
Wen Mingwei’s family chef was surprisingly good. Even the highly picky young master found no fault tonight. Overall, it was a wonderful meal, just barely earning Wen Mingwei two points.
Keeping mental score, Tan Zhao was suddenly told, “Tan Zhao, I want to show you something.”
“What?”
“A gift.”
Wen Mingwei rose and led him upstairs. Tan Zhao followed a few steps, eyeing the way toward the bedroom with suspicion. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”
Wen Mingwei chuckled, “Lie about what? If you don’t want to stay the night, how could I force you?”
“...It’s not that.”
“Hmm,” Wen Mingwei said understandingly, “Some people have a very serious view of sex and are cautious. You’re one of them.”
Tan Zhao ignored the teasing and instead caught the implied meaning: “Aren’t you?”
“No.” Wen Mingwei did not hide it. “To me, sex is just a normal physiological reaction, like hunger or feeling cold. The only difference is it requires two people cooperating. The experience might vary depending on the partner, but—”
But whether with someone you like or don’t, it’s essentially a hormonal response, not that different.
He wanted to say this, but such conclusions require personal comparison, and Wen Mingwei had never... been with the one he loved most.
He stopped at the bedroom door and glanced back at Tan Zhao.
“Why so quiet?” Tan Zhao noticed his lack of experience and smiled unusually. “I thought you’d have some profound insight. If you’ve never been in love, don’t pretend to be a love guru, okay?”
The young master hummed a tune and pushed open the door, stepping into the bedroom first.
“What’s the gift?”
Wen Mingwei’s bedroom was large, occupying almost half the second floor. Tan Zhao looked around and said, “By the way, your score now is two points. If the gift is creative, I wouldn’t mind giving you a ten.”
“A score out of ten?” Wen Mingwei, with his back to him, rummaged through a cabinet near the bed.
“Of course, it’s out of a hundred. Why haven’t you found it yet? Is it really for me? Why didn’t you take it out earlier?”
“Found it.” After two or three minutes, Wen Mingwei turned around, holding a slender, exquisite gift box, and returned to Tan Zhao’s side.
The experienced young master immediately recognized what was inside by the box’s appearance.
“A necklace?” He gave Wen Mingwei a “so unoriginal” look but still took it and began to unwrap it at once.
Sure enough, it was a necklace.
More precisely, a jade pendant strung on a fine thread.
Tan Zhao didn’t know jade and couldn’t identify its type, but he guessed Wen Mingwei wouldn’t be cheap, even if it meant going broke.
The pendant was beautiful, shaped like a feather, milky white and translucent, with a delicate touch. On the back, at the tip of the “feather,” a natural marking resembled an English letter—“z.”
Tan Zhao wasn’t sure if Wen Mingwei intended this and looked up to ask. The latter confirmed his guess, “You think it looks like ‘z’ too?”
Wen Mingwei held the empty box, his mood oddly subdued. “I found this jade at an auction ten years ago. After all these years, I didn’t expect to give it to you...”
“The letter-shaped mark is a flaw in the jade,” he said softly, “But if a flaw naturally forms into a suitable shape, that’s fate. Look, giving it to you is perfect because it’s your name.”
“...”
Wen Mingwei unclasped the specially crafted necklace’s fastener, holding each end to circle it around Tan Zhao’s neck, wanting to help him wear it.
However, Tan Zhao’s diamond earring was already conspicuous and flashy enough. Adding another piece of jewelry felt redundant. Besides, the diamond and jade had utterly different vibes, clashing rather than harmonizing.
Tan Zhao thought to himself: Doesn’t Wen Mingwei understand?
Presenting jade is a compliment meaning “gentle and refined” — what does that have to do with me?
Forget it.
Tan Zhao didn’t refuse and awkwardly said, “Thank you,” allowing Wen Mingwei to hang the somewhat heavy jade around his neck.
“Just wear it for a while,” Wen Mingwei said. “You wouldn’t expect me to wear it every day, right? — Absolutely impossible.”
“Suit yourself.” Wen Mingwei smiled, staring at his neck.
A thin, pale red thread trailed down his collarbone, clinging to the skin like a blood vessel breaking through the flesh, so vivid it hurt the eyes.
Wen Mingwei couldn’t help himself and reached out to touch it.
—Ten years ago, he had made the exact same gesture.
Back then, the person receiving the jade had grabbed his hand, smiling shyly, “Don’t touch so carelessly.”
Suddenly, Wen Mingwei’s heart ached, unable to look away.
Though awake, his consciousness uncontrollably drifted apart from his body.
He returned to that grassland, that river, beside the boy who sang him a birthday song.
“Mingwei...” someone called softly by his ear.
It was an illusion.
“Wen Mingwei.” Another voice.
It was Tan Zhao’s voice.
“Why are you spacing out?” Tan Zhao grabbed his chin and mischievously shook his head like a rattle, knocking his glasses askew and messing his hair.
Wen Mingwei didn’t respond. Tan Zhao found him a bit strange but didn’t ask further as his phone suddenly rang.
Tan Zhao released Wen Mingwei and glanced at the screen.