Found Him! My 'Glass-Hearted' Ex is a Pop-Up Star - Chapter 20

Ying Ruo’s eyes darted around, avoiding contact. Across the table, the man leaned back against his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze held a predatory and scrutinizing aggression, as if he were locking onto a small animal that had stumbled into a predator’s territory. The look made Ying Ruo’s spine tingle with a numbing chill.

Ying Ruo could not help but swallow hard. He felt utterly wronged. Because their presentation was scheduled for this Friday, his group had been meeting every day. His group members were two Italians who, on the very first day they started a WhatsApp group, changed the group name to “The Best Presentation Group,” determined to earn the highest score in the class. Having finished their discussion today, the Italians, true to their love for social gatherings, had enthusiastically invited Ying Ruo to dinner. Outnumbered, Ying Ruo had no choice but to come along.

He wondered why on earth Duan Zhuyan was here as well. Just then, the two Italians arrived. Seeing Duan Zhuyan, they said happily, “Hi! How did you get here so early?”

One of them, Simone, introduced Duan Zhuyan to Ying Ruo with a smile. “Ruo, this is my high school friend. He is Chinese too. I was afraid you would feel uncomfortable, so I invited him along so you two could chat.”

Ying Ruo thought that Simone was far too thoughtful and desperately wished for an escape. Ying Ruo nodded. Thinking about the fierce message Duan Zhuyan had sent him earlier that day, he felt a wave of fear. He did not know whether to greet him or not, so he simply kept his head down and took small sips of water, pretending not to notice him.

Duan Zhuyan remained silent. Sensing the awkward atmosphere, Simone asked, “What is going on? Do you two know each other?”

With Duan Zhuyan looking right through him from across the table, Ying Ruo did not dare make eye contact. Not knowing how to define their relationship, he rubbed his hands together and stammered in English, “Just met before.”

Duan Zhuyan, who was currently neither a boyfriend, a friend, nor even an ex-boyfriend in this context, but merely someone he had met, fell silent. He thought that if Ying Ruo wanted to play the role of a stranger, he would follow suit. Duan Zhuyan’s brow twitched. He swept a cold, indifferent glance over Ying Ruo and asked, “What is your name?”

Ying Ruo was confused and wondered what the man was trying to do. Since Duan Zhuyan had asked, Ying Ruo could only rub his hands and answer honestly, “I, my name is Ying Ruo.”

“Ying Ruo, is it?” Duan Zhuyan suddenly switched to Chinese. He looked at him and said slowly, “Your name is very similar to my ex-boyfriend’s name.”

Ying Ruo froze. Duan Zhuyan’s gaze was like a blade, scanning from the youth’s forehead down to his bitten lower lip. His brows were drawn low, giving him a dangerous edge as he added pointedly, “What a coincidence. You look very much like him, too.”

Ying Ruo felt doomed and wondered if Duan Zhuyan was taking revenge on him. The two Italians, unable to understand Chinese, assumed the two were hitting it off. “It is great to see you two getting along so well!” they remarked. Ying Ruo responded by nervously guzzling his juice.

Then, Simone asked Duan Zhuyan, “Where did you and Ruo meet? Is this only the second time? You have not gone out to eat together before?”

Ying Ruo choked on his drink at the question. He looked up and collided with the man’s cold, deep eyes. The predatory intensity in that gaze was terrifying, even from across the table. Duan Zhuyan continued his performance. After a moment, he looked down nonchalantly and said in a flat tone, “Yes. He seems very busy. Trying to schedule a meal with him requires waiting for days.”

The sound of his cutlery hitting the ceramic plate had a hard, metallic ring to it, sounding almost like a knife being sharpened. “It is truly my honor to run into him here,” he added. Ying Ruo felt completely misunderstood, but he did not know what to say. He could only pretend to be busy drinking his juice.

Finally, the food arrived. The Western restaurant had a nice atmosphere, and the dishes suited Chinese tastes. Since there were foreigners present, the conversation stayed in English. The Italians chatted energetically, while Duan Zhuyan contributed a few words occasionally. Ying Ruo, who was not great at small talk, especially in English, listened as if he were doing a language comprehension test while focusing on his food. He was not picky and found everything delicious.

The roast chicken was particularly fragrant, but since it was served whole, it needed to be carved. Ying Ruo tried to cut a piece, but he struggled with the effort. Just as he was about to try again, a hand appeared in his field of vision and naturally took the knife and fork from him. The hand was broad and large, bony yet beautiful. As they exchanged the utensils, Duan Zhuyan’s fingers brushed lightly against the back of Ying Ruo’s hand.

Despite it being a mere graze, Ying Ruo flinched sensitively. The spot where they touched felt as if it had been scorched, and the back of his hand turned red. Duan Zhuyan said nothing as he carved the meat and placed it in Ying Ruo’s bowl. Then, he set down the knife and moved his own pre-cut steak in front of the youth as well.

Ying Ruo was dazed. Those large hands, with their distinct veins and powerful grip, looked incredibly tense as the fingers pressed against the back of the knife. He wondered if Duan Zhuyan had cut the meat specifically for him and felt confused because he thought the man was angry. His mind could not quite process it. His eyes looked misty and confused; his heart began to race, and he felt a sudden surge of heat.

He wanted to say thank you, but in the next second, a strange sensation came from beneath the table. He felt something press against his calf, brush past his slender ankle, and after a brief pause, slowly hook onto the hem of his trousers. It was Duan Zhuyan. The tip of his polished black leather shoe acted like a hand, nonchalantly moving upward to lift the hem of the pants. It did not quite touch his skin, but the proximity created an overwhelming sense of pressure that sent a series of subtle, numbing tremors through Ying Ruo’s body.

Ying Ruo’s eyes widened. He looked up at the man in disbelief. Duan Zhuyan looked completely unfazed, still talking to Simone. Meanwhile, under the table, his formal shoe was rubbing against Ying Ruo’s white sneaker in a suggestive, lingering manner. Ying Ruo clutched his glass, not daring to move. His lips were bitten red, and a flush of pink spread across his delicate skin from embarrassment and distress. He wondered why Duan Zhuyan was acting like they were having an affair when they were not currently in a relationship.

“Ruo, have you ever been in a relationship?” Simone asked.

Startled by the sudden mention of his name, Ying Ruo snapped his head toward Simone like a thief caught in the act. His fair face was full of panic. “Huh?” he stammered.

Simone repeated, “Have you ever been in a relationship?”

Ying Ruo blinked his beautiful eyes. His soft, rosy lips pressed together in hesitation. “I, I think I have,” he answered.

Under the table, Duan Zhuyan’s long leg, which had been pressing between Ying Ruo’s knees, suddenly stopped moving.

“Hahaha, you are so cute,” Simone laughed. “Either you have or you have not. What does ‘I think I have’ mean?”

Ying Ruo felt dizzy. Heat continued to rise to his face, making his thick eyelashes flutter. A restless warmth was circulating through his body. He whispered softly, “I just do not remember.”

“How can you not remember being in love?” Simone asked, unaware of his amnesia. “But your tolerance is pretty good!”

Ying Ruo tilted his head. “Hmm?”

Simone pointed to the glass in his hand. “That is a cocktail. The alcohol content is quite high, and I have seen you drink several glasses.”

Ying Ruo looked at the glass and realized with a shock that it was alcohol. No wonder he felt so lightheaded. He used the back of his hand to cool his burning cheeks. He felt a bit muddled, his legs felt weak, and his heart was thumping uncomfortably. He rarely drank.

“Did you guys break up?” Simone, having had a bit to drink himself, could not help but gossip. “Tell us, what kind of person was he?”

Ying Ruo’s brain operated with a delay. After a moment of thought, he slowly looked at Duan Zhuyan. Duan Zhuyan did not speak; he just watched him in silence. His eyes, with their slight mixed-race features and clear irises, reflected the faint glow of the candlelight like a deep, emotional ocean. Ying Ruo could not read them. He just tried to piece together his memories, using the alcohol as an excuse to complain.

“His temper was not very good. He looked fierce. I was always afraid he would be mean to me,” Ying Ruo said. “But even though he was fierce, he was very attentive. He was good to me. But I cannot think of it. I do not remember. It feels like nobody has ever been that good to me.”

Ying Ruo kept his head down, his English becoming slurred. Trying to form sentences was giving him a headache. The alcohol had fully saturated his thoughts, and the intoxication he had not noticed before was now surging, making his head spin.

“And what about you?” Duan Zhuyan’s deep voice rang in his ear.

The surrounding light was dim. Ying Ruo stared into those eyes. His own gaze was wet as he looked at the man’s eyes, his nose, and his lips, finally settling on the stud in the man’s ear. For some reason, a powerful sense of familiarity hit him for the first time.

Images flashed through his mind: broad, hard shoulders pressing against his own; a large palm covering his flushed skin with burning heat; legs being pulled up and held firmly in place as his soul was slowly consumed. He remembered his chin being tilted up and rubbed by a calloused palm. His spine tingled. Breath, heat, and bodies were all intertwined. He remembered being kissed until he could not breathe, seeing the veins in the other man’s neck pulsing, and feeling himself being sucked into an abyss. His fragile wrists were pinned down by a single hand, the strength too great to escape, leaving him with no choice but to endure.

It was a blur, yet it felt vividly real. Ying Ruo felt as if he had always been looking at that earring. In the darkness, it gleamed like the man’s eyes, possessing an invisible, magnetic pull. They were very close, yet there was a sense of distance. He wondered what the man would do at this moment.

The youth’s consciousness was fading. Ying Ruo switched to Chinese, his voice laced with the scent of alcohol. “Me?” he murmured. “When we were making love, I think I really liked to bite his earring.”

The sounds around them became a hazy muffle. Something indefinable was spreading between them. Ying Ruo kept his head down, his vision blurring. He vaguely saw the large, well-defined hand across from him clench slightly, the veins on the back of the hand bulging, exactly like the ones in his memory. His head felt heavy, as did his eyelids. His neck seemed to lose the strength to support himself. In his fading field of vision, he saw that hand reaching out toward him.