Have You Lied Enough? - Chapter 2

Cheng Bo had liked Fu Wansi for many years, declaring his feelings both jokingly and seriously on numerous occasions, but Fu Wansi never reciprocated.

His preferences were deeply ingrained and difficult to change.

As Cheng Bo had said, he liked handsome, pretty boys, but ones who weren’t too feminine.

Having grown up together, Fu Wansi remembered every detail of his childhood friend’s messy, snotty days and simply couldn’t muster any romantic interest.

After returning from the hospital, Fu Wansi didn’t immediately rush to clean up the club’s mess. Instead, he stayed home for three days, rising early each morning to water his plants and brew tea, thoroughly enjoying the peaceful routine.

Recalling the hectic days behind him, an idea formed in his mind. Fu Wansi jotted it down.

A few lines of self-indulgent writing, reeking of so-called literary pretentiousness. After reading it twice, he solemnly retrieved a red pen from a corner and scribbled a “0” beside it.

It’s poorly written. Zero points.

His phone was always cluttered with unread messages, and letting them pile up wasn’t a solution. As Fu Wansi absentmindedly doodled next to the “0,” it gradually morphed into a clumsy rabbit munching on grass.

He marked the messages as read, then found the number in his contacts marked “Her Majesty the Empress” and gave it a call.

After ignoring her for days, his mother was putting on airs, letting the phone ring until the last possible moment before answering.

Without any pleasantries, she asked, “What’s up?”

Fu Wansi drew a pistol on the back of a rabbit doodle. “Busy.”

“Come home,” Song Wen said succinctly.

“Busy,” Fu Wansi replied, unyielding.

The familiar silence stretched for a few seconds before Song Wen spoke again. “Come home next week. Your dad will be there too. Let’s have dinner together.”

“Did you tell Fu Wanchu?”

“As if I could get her to budge.” Song Wen’s voice was languid, and he could hear someone whispering in the background.

Fu Wansi firmly declined the dinner invitation.

Family dinners were never casual affairs. When everyone was present, it inevitably devolved into a full-blown argument. The “direct line” dragon-phoenix twins, Fu Wanchu and Fu Wansi, had remained childless for over thirty years. Not only were there no grandchildren, they hadn’t even settled on proper partners. Returning home would inevitably lead to relentless pressure on the matter.

The Fu family was blessed with exceptional lineage, producing members with remarkably stubborn temperaments. No one would yield, and arguments only ceased when both parties emerged battered and exhausted.

After a moment’s contemplation, Fu Wansi, unusually decisive, got dressed and drove straight to Cheng Bo’s club.

In Haicheng, every square inch of land was precious, each plot serving an irreplaceable function.

Yitu was located in the city’s busiest and noisiest district, a street lined end-to-end with bars, clubs, and private lounges.

As soon as Fu Wansi’s car stopped, several staff members rushed out. Within seconds, Manager Zhang emerged, his face beaming as he jogged over, handed his car keys to an attendant, and said, “How did you find the time to visit? Same room?”

“Mm,” Fu Wansi replied, rubbing his right wrist. Writing two days’ worth of astronomical drivel had nearly triggered his tenosynovitis again.

Manager Zhang moved to swipe his card and head straight to the fourth floor, but Fu Wansi stopped him, insisting on inspecting the premises from the ground up.

This wasn’t someone who hadn’t seen the place before, a man used to getting his way, even if their boss had to cater to him here.

Manager Zhang agreed readily, assigning an attendant to follow Fu Wansi closely, ensuring he could find help if needed.

The club was newly opened, and aside from Manager Zhang, who had been transferred from the old location, everyone was a new face.

The waiters didn’t recognize Fu Wansi, and he appreciated the anonymity.

The first floor resembled a small, relaxed bar, with soft music and patrons sitting at a comfortable distance from each other, creating an innocent atmosphere.

But the real business took place upstairs, where nothing could be left behind in the private rooms. Anything done in secret was suspect.

Cheng Bo was a cautious man, wary of even the slightest hint of impropriety. But without surveillance in the private rooms, he risked being unfairly implicated if someone with a loose screw decided to cause trouble.

Fu Wansi had a keen sense of smell. Back when he helped Cheng Bo open his first karaoke bar during a period of poor security, the place was plagued by brazen addicts sneaking in to score. Each time they called the police, Cheng Bo would wail to Fu Wansi about finding a temple to exorcise the “negative energy” that kept attracting these unsavory characters.

Over time, Fu Wansi could tell whether drugs had been used in a room just by sniffing the air. A casual stroll through the premises was enough for him to gauge whether the staff were up to no good behind Cheng Bo’s back.

While not infallible, his mere presence served as a potent deterrent.

After sending Cheng Bo a message, Fu Wansi, having completed his two rounds, had the attendant show him to a private room.

The private room had been specially reserved for him. Cheng Bo had said, “You can come anytime you want; you don’t need to wait.” Fu Wansi didn’t hold back, using only the best food, drink, and amenities.

He decided to stay here until next week.

“Are you coming home?” Fu Wanchu’s voice sounded off, almost like Cheng Bo’s.

“No, I’m not,” Fu Wansi replied. “Did you catch a cold?”

“I’m just chilled,” Fu Wanchu yawned. “I’m going to hole up for a bit. If anyone asks, tell them I’m dead.”

“Then I’ll join you in death for a few days,” Fu Wansi said. He urged her to take some medicine, warning about a severe flu going around. If it got really bad, she should go to the hospital. If even Cheng Bo’s tough constitution landed him there, it wouldn’t be embarrassing for her to go.

He wasn’t sure if she was listening. Sniffing, she asked, “Are you at Cheng Bo’s place? The new one or the old one?”

“The new one. Let me see if anyone’s causing trouble behind his back.”

“I heard Cheng Bo hired a bunch of pretty waiters. The tall, long-legged guys. Is that true?”

Fu Wansi hadn’t paid much attention to the journey, finding nothing particularly noteworthy. He casually remarked, “Absolutely stunning. You could get married and start a family right after arriving.”

Fu Wanchu let out a genuine groan, despite being in her thirties, her voice as lively as a child’s. “Great! Why don’t you just find someone compatible and get married over there?”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Fu Wansi retorted. “The kind of person I’d be compatible with couldn’t even conceive a grandchild.”

“As if the person I’m compatible with could,” Fu Wanchu scoffed.

Fu Wansi ended up staying for nearly half a month.

Song Wen called several more times, but Fu Wansi only answered once, his voice brimming with busyness—so busy that he barely checked his phone. His lack of ambition gave the Empress ample opportunity to mercilessly mock him.

Cheng Bo, claiming to be “delicate and frail,” shamelessly stayed in the hospital for two weeks before being discharged.

His “friends” planned a welcome party for him at Yitu. Cheng Bo specifically informed Fu Wansi about it, asking if he’d attend.

A pointless question.

Fu Wansi held them in utter contempt.

But by the time he received the news, they had already started arriving. To make matters worse, Cheng Bo’s private room was ostentatiously placed right next to Fu Wansi’s. Leaving now would inevitably lead to an awkward confrontation.

It would have made him look like a coward, fleeing in disgrace.

Fu Wansi confidently entered the adjacent private room and settled into a comfortable spot to drink.

Cheng Bo, who had arrived earlier, immediately focused on Fu Wansi, even in the crowded room. He approached with a bottle of alcohol and quietly asked, “How was it?”

“Average,” Fu Wansi replied, pouring himself half a glass and downing it in one gulp. He signaled Cheng Bo to enjoy himself and leave him alone.

The group’s wild antics disgusted Fu Wansi. Without telling Cheng Bo, he excused himself after a short while.

His good alcohol tolerance and self-restraint meant that even after slowly drinking a whole bottle, he was only slightly tipsy. Now, he just wanted to find a quiet place to breathe.

The uniformed waiters, all young men in their early twenties with tall statures and long legs, caught Fu Wansi’s bored gaze. Recalling Fu Wanchu’s words, he glanced at them half-heartedly.

Good-looking, but not my type, he thought, lighting a cigarette by the window, his eyelids drooping lazily.

He was past the age for earnest romance, but like everyone else, he still had desires.

Fu Wansi knew exactly what those “deeply devoted” boyfriends wanted.

He didn’t mind supporting the other person, occasionally taking them out for walks, meals, or shopping; buying them a watch; or leaving a card. But he lost patience when it became excessive.

His last boyfriend had been introduced by Cheng Bo. A 24-year-old fresh out of university with a job, but his internship salary seemed like a joke to them.

While drinking with Cheng Bo, the young man had toasted Fu Wansi, saying softly, “Brother, I really like you. I liked you from the first moment I saw you.”

Fu Wansi found him amusing. “Alright then, come over and ‘like’ me.”

The young man was fair and pure, with large, doll-like eyes and a tall stature. His speech and actions were gentle and warm, and he was clever, sensible, and unreserved. To be honest, Fu Wansi had been quite satisfied with this arrangement for a while.

The relationship lasted nearly a year.

Fu Wansi was the one who ended it, without any particular reason; he was simply tired.

It had been two months since the breakup, but for some inexplicable reason, he suddenly remembered the young man today. He might have been a little tipsy from the alcohol.

After sending a text to Cheng Bo saying he was heading home, Fu Wansi casually turned into a deserted corridor and walked forward with his head down.

“Zuo Chi, private room 406! Are you still smoking in here?”

“Mm… I’m tired.”

“Hey, even so, hurry over here.”

“Alright.”

A clear, bright voice suddenly pierced Fu Wansi’s ears, tinged with fatigue and a faint, barely perceptible laziness in its soft, trailing notes.

It was simple, easy to understand, and undeniably pleasant.

Fu Wansi looked up.

A tall man stood sideways to him, leaning languidly against the doorframe nearby, his head tilted slightly back. His skin was fair, and a small mole was visible on the high bridge of his nose. His crimson lips were pressed lightly together.

The plain employee shirt, though seemingly too small, accentuated his sleek, well-proportioned figure. The shirt’s hem was tucked into his pants at the waist, drawing the eye down to long, straight legs.

Hearing footsteps, he turned slightly, looking at Fu Wansi with mild curiosity.

Only when their eyes met did Fu Wansi notice the slender woman’s cigarette dangling from his mouth, an incongruous sight with his slightly curved peach blossom eyes.

After a few silent seconds, during which the man clearly didn’t recognize him, he offered Fu Wansi an obedient smile.

“Hello. Would you like a cigarette?”

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