I Heard You Have a Crush On Me? What a Coincidence! - Chapter 1

The curtains in the room were drawn tight, leaving only a single bedside lamp lit. The atmosphere was dim and heavy.

Song Que narrowed his eyes dangerously, staring warily at the man across from him. His own shadow, looking somewhat haggard, was cast upon the wall behind him. The faint, lingering traces of satisfaction in the air were rapidly dissipating.

Discarded clothing lay scattered across the floor, forming a messy trail that led from the bedside all the way to the door. It was not hard to imagine how intense the encounter between the two people who had burst in here last night had been.

But at this moment, everything had dropped to a freezing point.

Sitting on the sofa, Qin Wangye stubbed out a cigarette. Even wrapped in a bulky bathrobe, his superior physique was impossible to hide. He looked like a predator entrenched in his territory, his large frame occupying more than half of the sofa. A characteristic smile played on the man’s lips, yet it felt inexplicably cold. Below his prominent Adam’s apple, the firm lines of his chest disappeared into his collar.

He was stable yet fierce; that was the overwhelming first impression.

He had woken up a bit earlier than Song Que.

Song Que could not read Qin Wangye’s emotions. He pursed his lips and spoke first. “It was you who kept me here last night.”

“I know,” Qin Wangye admitted frankly.

His return to the country had been a massive affair. At yesterday’s welcome banquet, nearly everyone who was anyone in Zhaocheng had attended. It was a mixed crowd and, despite his precautions, he had inadvertently fallen into a trap.

Song Que continued, “You seemed to be heading the wrong way. I ran into you in the east corridor on the nineteenth floor of the Genting. Your phone was missing, and people were chasing you. I had no choice but to bring you to a safe area first.”

Once they were safe, Song Que had been about to call Shao Fuguang when his phone was snatched by a hand with a staggering temperature. It was tossed aside carelessly, landing on the carpet with a muffled thud.

Song Que was shocked. When he looked up, he collided with Qin Wangye’s dark, heavy gaze. The man’s expression was grim, yet deep within his eyes, molten lava was clearly churning.

After the events that followed, Song Que closed his eyes, quickly swallowing back his emotions. When he spoke again, his voice was utterly calm. “Mr. Qin, it was a consensual affair.”

Qin Wangye nodded. “Correct.”

The two of them were cold and distant, as if the surging demands and sacrifices of the previous night had all been an illusion.

“Is the phone here?” Qin Wangye started a new topic.

Song Que felt under the pillow and found it. He unlocked it with his fingerprint and handed it to the man. Qin Wangye took it and dialed a number.

He did not make any effort to avoid Song Que. It was unclear what the person on the other end said, but Qin Wangye smiled, and his tone softened. “I am fine. I lost my phone; it is not a big deal. I am safe. I will head to the old family residence at noon.”

It was likely his family.

After hanging up, Qin Wangye returned the phone. Inadvertently, their fingertips brushed. Qin Wangye’s blood always ran hot, so the slight damp coldness of Song Que’s fingertips felt jarring to him.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Qin Wangye asked while picking through the clothes on the floor.

Very few items were still wearable. Seeing this, Song Que seemed to remember something and shut his eyes tight. “I am fine!”

Qin Wangye fastened two buttons on his shirt. He tilted his chin slightly, his thick, slanted eyebrows carrying a hint of scrutiny. Now fully awake and stretching his limbs, he exuded a vitality so vigorous it bordered on aggressive.

That was the case if one ignored his torn right sleeve. As he moved, patches of skin on his shoulder were exposed.

“You look refined and lean, yet you could probably knock out Mike Tyson with one punch,” Qin Wangye commented leisurely.

Song Que remained silent.

Qin Wangye picked up his jacket and gave it a shake. After a quick inspection, he was satisfied that it was wearable. Once he was dressed and looking presentable, Qin Wangye looked at Song Que. “Should I leave first?”

Song Que replied, “Yes.”

As he left, Qin Wangye picked up Song Que’s tie and tossed it by his hand.

The young man remained sitting on the bed. Song Que was not as unbothered as Qin Wangye; the moment he had woken up, he had wrapped himself up tightly. Even so, the red marks on his neck were clearly visible. They were from the pressure of Qin Wangye’s thumb.

Song Que had worked hard in Zhaocheng for three years and was now a rising star among the city’s elite. When he was still, his face perfectly matched the traditional image of an Oriental beauty: gentle, refined, and elegant, with the most vivid colors of a landscape painting gathered in his features.

But human emotions shift.

Right now, Song Que’s eyelids were lowered, giving him a weary look. His lips were pressed thin, appearing calm yet guarded.

“Song Que,” Qin Wangye said, “we will meet again.”

Song Que’s expression shifted slightly before he responded, “I shall be waiting.”

Qin Wangye raised an eyebrow, knowing Song Que had misunderstood, thinking he intended to cause trouble.

But there was no point in saying more. The sound of footsteps faded, followed by the soft click of the door. The room fell into silence.

Song Que remained as still as a stone statue for a few minutes before the tension in his shoulders and back finally began to relax. He slumped back onto the bed, and the covers fell open to reveal startling marks across his waist and abdomen.

Though he looked as if he were resting with his eyes closed, the emotions radiating from him were incredibly complex. It was like sunlight captured on an autumn afternoon: seemingly calm, yet tinged with a hidden, lingering sadness from a time gone by.

Song Que left the hotel an hour later. His face was pale, and he lacked physical strength. Qin Wangye’s animalistic side had been hard to restrain last night. Although he had helped clean Song Que up afterward while the latter was in a daze, he did not truly understand Song Que’s condition.

Sitting in his car, Song Que hesitated for a moment before choosing to drive straight home.

Located in one of Zhaocheng’s premier luxury districts, the detached villa was quiet as Song Que pushed open the door. He spent most of his time moving between the office and hotels; this place was called home, but it felt more like a temporary stopover.

The space was large, but the decor lacked any sense of life. It was a display of cold, polished sophistication. The flowers on the windowsill were all fake. As the light filtered in, the room felt several shades darker.

Song Que pressed his aching temples and went upstairs to his bedroom.

He fell asleep immediately. It was as if only when his physical body grew still could his soul be released, allowing those suppressed emotions to transform into an increasingly vivid dream.

A wave of screaming echoed in his ears. Song Que looked up just in time to see the student-era Qin Wangye steal the ball and go for a layup. He leapt high, his face radiant with high spirits and arrogance, making even the bright sun behind him seem dull in comparison.

As for Song Que himself, he seemed to blend into the weathered, mottled fence behind him.

Qin Wangye seemed to glance his way. Song Que could not help but tense up, but the youth quickly looked away, his gaze flat and indifferent.

Song Que looked down at his own faded school uniform and frayed sneakers. From head to toe, he was dull and grey.

A powerful sense of loss gripped his throat. Song Que felt his heart shrivel; bitterness instantly flooded his chest, making him want to cry. It was an emotion so foreign to him.

His body jolted as if triggering some sort of prohibition, and Song Que snapped his eyes open.

The ceiling was spinning violently. The moisture in his eyes turned them red, but he calmed down quickly. Once the dizziness subsided, Song Que braced himself against the mattress and slowly sat up. His eyes held nothing but a cold, clear silence.