Chapter 22: Dionysus (2)

In the year 2155, an era where marriage has long since ceased to be restricted by gender or even species, the sight of humans tying the knot with androids or fictional characters is no longer news; it no longer generates traffic.

That Tan Zhao and Wen Mingwei, both well into their adult years, were embarking on their first romantic relationship ever was, by all accounts, more surprising than an eighteen-year-old marrying a teddy dog.

In the past, had anyone mocked Tan Zhao for never having been in love, he would have found them insufferably tedious and utterly vulgar. No one is born to fall in love, nor is romance noble or the ultimate meaning of life. How ignorant must one be to infinitely inflate its importance, or even use the breadth of one’s romantic experience to sneer at others?

Though Tan Zhao’s worldview has not undergone a radical shift, his state of mind has changed in subtle ways. He thinks to himself that romance is indeed nothing special; the second before they defined their relationship, he was himself, and the second after, he was still himself. Nothing had changed.

What changed, it seems, was Wen Mingwei.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but from the tips of his hair to his toes, everything felt different. Perhaps it was because, in the blink of an eye, Wen Mingwei had transformed from just "Wen Mingwei" into "Tan Zhao’s lover, Wen Mingwei."

"..."

The young master was stunned by his own sudden bout of sentimentality and fell silent. He and Wen Mingwei were already in bed, resting.

To rewind two hours—

Around midnight, Tan Zhao had carried Wen Mingwei from the car back to his room and received his belated birthday gift: a ring. To be precise, it was a pair of rings, one for him and one for Wen Mingwei.

Starting a relationship and wearing couple rings on the very first day felt like moving a bit too fast. But according to Wen Mingwei, these rings were special; they had been custom-designed by a master to match Tan Zhao’s signature diamond earring.

Tan Zhao’s diamond earring, known as "The Heart of Dionysus," had once set a record for price per carat at auction. Beyond the diamond’s impeccable quality, it was the final masterpiece of a renowned jewelry designer, imbued with extraordinary humanistic value. Dionysus, the Greek god of wine, was not merely a deity of intoxication; he was a god of vitality with the power of death and rebirth, revered as the patron of masks and inspiration. He symbolized a frantic, irrational spirit, possessing an aesthetic of ecstatic, burgeoning desire.

The design of the rings drew from the same theme. The surface of the bands featured abstract ripples, resembling airflow, flames, cracks, or the veins of growing leaves. If the two rings were pressed together, they faintly revealed the simple, sketched outline of a mask—the only figurative element related to the god of wine.

This gift was not actually prepared specifically for Tan Zhao’s birthday this year; Wen Mingwei had been keeping it for a long time. He did not hide this from Tan Zhao, who, upon hearing it, did not mind at all. In fact, he was even more pleased, asking with surprise, "Wen Mingwei, just how long have you been harboring a crush on me?"

Tan Zhao slipped the ring onto his ring finger; it fit perfectly. "—I dare not even think about it."

Wen Mingwei did not answer, merely smiling. He was sitting on the sofa, a Dieffenbachia nearly as tall as a person behind him, its leaves a vibrant, lush green. The young master, in a good mood, found everything pleasing to the eye and remarked, "You keep your plants well."

"I don't have that hobby. The butler tends to them."

As if reminded of something, Wen Mingwei suddenly said, "Would you like to move in?"

"..."

The suggestion was natural enough; they had lived together before. But back then, the house had been temporary, the relationship ambiguous, and everything felt fragile. Moving in together now would be cohabitation in the true sense of the word.

Tan Zhao had no reason to refuse. Besides, no matter how nice his own apartment was, it couldn't compare to the comfort of Wen Mingwei’s home. He thought for a few seconds and agreed.

This progress was truly delightful.

Whether it was the birthday gift or Wen Mingwei’s proactive attitude, Tan Zhao was very satisfied. His happiness was written all over his face; even when he tried to act cool, his emotions were transparent, as if he had an invisible tail wagging behind him. His enthusiasm was contagious, making Wen Mingwei want to laugh, which in turn left Tan Zhao bewildered. "What are you laughing at now?"

"Nothing. I just think you’re interesting."

"..."

—The feeling of being in love is truly subtle.

Two hours later, deep in the night, Tan Zhao lay in bed unable to sleep, still ruminating on the tone and expression Wen Mingwei had used when he spoke those words. What did "interesting" mean? Was it a compliment? It didn't sound like one.

In truth, he wasn't kept awake by that trivial remark, but by a strange, "wedding night" kind of excitement. One moment he thought the pillow was at the wrong height, the next he felt the mattress was either too soft or too hard. He tossed and turned, sleep nowhere to be found.

Eventually, he couldn't help but ponder everything from the meaning of love to the origin of the universe, the future of humanity, and the final destination of life, only to conclude—he had been ruined by Wen Mingwei. He never imagined that, after falling in love, he would become like this.

It was as if he had grown ten years younger overnight, returning to the age of fifteen.

No, he had been much more mature at fifteen. Back then, he would look with disdain upon classmates who fell into puppy love, sharply critiquing everyone with equal measure: obsession with romance was a sign of low intelligence; the deeper one sank, the lower one’s IQ dropped—a vicious cycle. After all, he had been a child prodigy, topping every exam and collecting awards with ease; it was hard not to feel superior.

And Wen Mingwei?

Tan Zhao turned his head to look at the person beside him. The bedroom lights were off, and a sliver of moonlight leaked through the gap in the curtains, illuminating Wen Mingwei’s sleeping face. It was pale, slightly sickly, with a complexion as delicate and flawless as porcelain.

He was so perfect and gentle, not at all like a man from a complex background holding a position of great power. He looked more like a greenhouse plant that had never been weathered by wind or rain. Of course, Tan Zhao didn't know his past, but judging by the history of the Wen family and the high status Wen Mingwei still held, he must have had many extraordinary experiences.

Tan Zhao spent a few minutes guessing like he was predicting a movie plot, but his attention eventually drifted to Wen Mingwei’s pursed lips. Without a second thought, he leaned down and kissed them. Wen Mingwei was disturbed in his sleep and frowned slightly.

Tan Zhao, satisfied with the reaction, kissed him again.

Under normal circumstances, Wen Mingwei would have been light-sleeping and already awake. But today, affected by the medication, he hadn't fully recovered his strength; his body needed sleep to restore its energy, plunging him into a rare, deep slumber.

He didn't wake up even after Tan Zhao kissed him several times. He only sensed something, subconsciously leaning in and shifting his head from the pillow to Tan Zhao’s shoulder, instinctively finding a comfortable angle to continue sleeping.

As he moved, the pillow shifted slightly, revealing something unexpected underneath.

Tan Zhao reached out in the dark and picked it up—it was a gun.

—What kind of normal person keeps a gun under their pillow while they sleep?

And it was loaded, too.

Yet, there was no one but Tan Zhao who could remain so calm and composed upon discovering such a dangerous romantic partner. He placed the pistol on the nightstand, finally finding a rare sense of drowsiness. He adjusted his breathing, held Wen Mingwei close, and closed his eyes.

**

August 16th. The first day Wen Mingwei and Tan Zhao were officially together.

Everything was very different, yet it seemed as if nothing had changed. Wen Mingwei’s daily routine remained the same, and Tan Zhao had to return to the company to continue working. His predicament hadn't shifted, and the pressure on his shoulders hadn't eased in the slightest; if anything, it felt heavier.

The weather today was cloudy. Wen Mingwei had slept early last night but woke up later than Tan Zhao. After a quick wash, they went downstairs for breakfast.

The butler was attentive and had prepared a fresh, clean suit for Tan Zhao without needing to be asked. It gave the young master a feeling of being back in his own home, making him even more certain that he should move in as soon as possible to start this new chapter of his life with Wen Mingwei.

Thinking this way might be a bit too grand, but he couldn't help it. The feeling of being a "newlywed" upon waking remained, and it seemed as if Wen Mingwei’s gaze was more lingering than before, as if he were reluctant to part with him.

As they parted, Tan Zhao gave him a goodbye kiss at the door and suddenly said, "I thought about some things last night."

"What things?"

Wen Mingwei’s long hair was loose, and he was wearing casual loungewear, looking lazily as if he hadn't fully woken up.

Tan Zhao hooked his hand around his waist, completely unaware that the action was overly sentimental. He said seriously, "Neither of us has any romantic experience. Friction is inevitable as we get along, so to keep the relationship stable, I think we should set some ground rules in advance."

"...For example?"

"I haven't thought of them yet. We’ll discuss it in detail later."

Another goodbye, but Tan Zhao’s hand on his waist didn't loosen. They stood in silence, eyes locked, until Wen Mingwei chuckled. "What, do you want to kiss again?"

"..."

Tan Zhao immediately pulled his hand back with restraint. Just as he was about to say something to clarify his motives, his gaze shifted slightly, and he suddenly saw Gu Jing walking down the stairs, appearing to have just woken up as well.

Tan Zhao asked belatedly, "He lives at your house?"

"Gu Jing?" Wen Mingwei glanced back. He didn't hide it. "Yes. Actually, he’s my bodyguard; he’s been with me for many years. Why, do you not like him?"

The young master frowned. "No."

Dislike wasn't the right word, but unlike the butler, who was advanced in age, Gu Jing was a young man. His appearance... how to put it? He looked like the kind of pretty boy stereotypes suggested wealthy women would like. Was it appropriate for him to be living with Wen Mingwei every day?

Tan Zhao held his tongue. It wasn't that he was capable of restraint; he simply felt that some things were better left implied. Wen Mingwei should understand his requirements and take the initiative to clear the obstacles from their relationship.

Unaware that he had already become an "obstacle," Secretary Gu, who had a keen eye for such things, waited patiently to the side. Only after Tan Zhao had left for work did he approach Wen Mingwei.

—Unlike Tan Zhao, whose mind had become filled with new thoughts the moment he started dating, Wen Mingwei’s state was as usual.

What affected him more than Tan Zhao were the two pills he had taken the previous night. Perhaps because he had stopped taking them for a period recently, his body’s resistance had lessened, causing a particularly strong reaction. It took the whole night for his system to metabolize the drug. Feeling much better this morning, with control over his limbs returned to him, Wen Mingwei walked upstairs and said to Gu Jing, "Today, clean out the medicine in my bedroom drawer and lock it away."

Gu Jing nodded, understanding that this meant he didn't want Tan Zhao to see it.

Wen Mingwei added, "Also, tidy up the things that should be stored away in the study and other rooms. Be careful."

"Understood." Gu Jing didn't ask what exactly needed to be cleared; he already knew.

He followed behind Wen Mingwei, his eyes falling on the hair that swayed slightly as the other walked. He reminded him tactfully, "The date for the drug trial with Dr. Oda is coming up this month. Should we follow the original plan, or—"

Wen Mingwei paused his steps and replied, "Cancel it. I want to go off it for a while longer."