I Want To Marry My dad, Not My Uncle - Chapter 7

A shiny, gold-plated five-star hotel key card lay on the table, complete with the room number printed on it.

“Um, sir, what is this?”

Xingchen had considered every possibility, but a hotel key card was certainly not one of them. Vincent did not seem like the type of person to do this; Xingchen imagined that Vincent would not even be able to talk about keeping a mistress in a straightforward manner. Yet, without a word, he had simply handed over a key card.

Vincent tapped his fingertips against the table, his expression calm and composed. “Come with me. I will pay for your tuition, and we can find you a new place to stay.”

Hearing the mention of tuition, Xingchen felt there might be an opening. “Tuition?”

Vincent nodded. “Give me your information. I will handle the enrollment. Do not go to Florida; come to New York.”

What? That meant he was not going to give him cash?

Xingchen had not expected Vincent to be this type of benefactor. This kind of patron would provide an apartment, buy designer bags, and take you on trips, but they would not give you a single cent in cash. Under normal circumstances, Xingchen would not care—it was all just about making money—but he could not afford that right now. He did not have the time. What he needed was not a school enrollment or a place to live; neither of those could be exchanged for the money he urgently required.

However, in Vincent’s eyes, Xingchen was merely a down-and-out young master in desperate need of an education and better housing. If Xingchen asked for cash directly or refused the opportunity to attend a prestigious New York school, Vincent would surely become suspicious of his identity. That would make getting money even more impossible.

And then there was the hotel key card. To put it nicely, it was a new place to stay. To put it bluntly, it was just waiting to be bedded. Xingchen highly suspected that Vincent was the type who provided gifts, meals, and support only if you let him sleep with you; if you did not comply, you got nothing.

But even if Xingchen were willing to resign himself to that, he did not want a school and a hotel! Xingchen really wanted to light a cigarette. He is my nemesis.

Vincent watched him stare blankly at the key card, neither urging him nor appearing impatient. Xingchen pushed the card back and continued eating. They sat in an eerie, uncomfortable silence.

Only when he was nearly finished did Xingchen lower his head and whisper, “Sir, I admit I was greedy when I took the tip earlier, but I regretted it the moment it was in my hands. I cannot play these games with wealthy people. I was well-protected growing up; I do not understand your world, and I do not want to.”

He continued, “I have fallen on hard times. A wealthy young master reduced to waiting tables, I cannot even hold my head up when I see my classmates. But even so, I never thought of selling my body for money. I am afraid I cannot accept this card. Thank you for your kindness.”

Xingchen stood up. “Sir, consider me ungrateful. Thank you for the meal.”

He turned and walked away. Vincent did not say a single word. As the youth’s tall, slender figure moved further away, the cold wind outside caused him to wrap his arms tightly around himself; he looked so solitary in the freezing air.

The driver saw Vincent return to the car alone and knew things had not gone as planned. He adjusted the rearview mirror. “Mr. Vincent, should I still prepare the Stern School of Business application?”

Vincent shook his head. “No need.”

The driver hesitated, wanting to say something, but finally remarked, “Mr. Vincent, he was used to a wealthy life after all. It is understandable that he could not accept such a sudden arrangement.”

What the driver actually wanted to say was: He is already miserable enough. You insulted him by shoving a hotel key card in his face; it is a sign of his good breeding that he did not splash his soup in yours.

Vincent was rubbing something between his fingers: Xingchen’s handkerchief.

Couldn’t accept it? He could not accept being a kept man, but he could accept stealing credit card swipes? All his backbone was reserved for protecting his own backside.

Xingchen did not have any real pride; this was all a strategic retreat. By acting out the role of the arrogant, down-and-out young master to the end, he was forcing Vincent to change his tactics. Whether Vincent would let go or instead offer real money to pursue him differently, Xingchen could not say for sure. But in this situation, this was the only way to play his hand.

Xingchen lit a cigarette, bit down on the mint-flavored capsule, and looked back at the direction he had come from. I am betting on this.

The next day, Vincent and Raymond arrived one after the other. Xingchen deliberately waited on Raymond and had Annie handle Vincent. When Annie quietly came over and told Xingchen to take over the table, the corner of his mouth curved slightly. He won the bet.

Xingchen walked over with the ordering tablet. Vincent looked the same, his eyes slightly curved, making it impossible to tell if he was in a good or bad mood.

“Sit.”

“Uh, that would not be appropriate,” Xingchen said, remaining standing.

Vincent looked up, his tone gentle: “Sit across from me, or sit on my lap. Choose one.”

Xingchen’s eyes widened for a few seconds. Had he misheard? How could Vincent say something like that with such a gentle tone? Knowing when to stop, Xingchen obediently sat down across from him.

Vincent looked satisfied with his compliance. “Cipher, I like you.”

Xingchen offered a forced smile. “Thank you.”

“Cipher, I want you, and I presumed to give you what I thought you needed most. I did not consider your pride, which was my mistake, but I never intended to insult you,” Vincent said earnestly.

Hm, the down-and-out arrogant young master act is working well, Xingchen thought. He hesitated, saying, “Um, sir, and so?”

His phone chimed twice with a notification. Due to the situation, he did not pull it out to look, but Vincent glanced up. “Check it.”

Xingchen pulled out his phone; it was $10,000. He looked up in surprise. “Sir, you, what is this?”

“Since you could not accept my method, we will do it your way,” Vincent leaned back, calm and collected. “Does this work for you?”

“I, I,” Xingchen feigned hesitation.

Then, his phone pinged four more times; it was another $20,000. Vincent tapped his fingers against his phone screen, making a steady, rhythmic tapping sound. “Does this work?”

It works. It works perfectly. But this was happening too fast. Xingchen had expected Vincent to buy him things, take him to dinner, and pursue him little by little, allowing him to slowly cash out. He never expected Vincent to just transfer the money immediately.

How do I keep playing the arrogant young master now? If he were truly that character, he should transfer the money back and claim he was being insulted. But Xingchen could not afford to do that! Money was what he needed.

After a moment of thought, Xingchen set his phone down, took off his glasses, and his eyes instantly reddened. “Wuu, you know I am struggling, yet you are using money to force me into this.”

Vincent rested his hands on the table, an uncharacteristically relaxed posture. He took his time enjoying the sight of the beauty weeping before picking up his phone. Four more notifications chimed. Xingchen did not even need to look to know it was another $20,000.

“Is this enough to stop you from crying?” Vincent raised an eyebrow.

This tactic is ruthless. His tears were truly stuck in limbo. If he accepted it now, would it look like he was acting? The notifications chimed again. Vincent smiled slightly. “Is it enough?”

“Enough.” Might as well take the win, Xingchen thought, wiping away his tears.

Vincent tapped the table in front of him. “Come over here.”

Xingchen did not hesitate; he obediently moved over. Vincent lifted his face, his thumb brushing over the beauty mark beneath Xingchen’s eye. A faint, woody scent lingered near his nose.

“Do not throw tantrums with me in the future.”

“Um, okay,” Xingchen replied, his voice muffled.

In ten minutes, he had gone from $300 to $60,000. Forget throwing tantrums; he would bow down to him if he had to.

This time, Vincent moved naturally, wrapping an arm around his slender waist and pulling him closer. It was indeed very thin; he could hold most of it in one hand. Xingchen naturally did not resist. In this situation, and considering they were not exactly an entrepreneur and an artist, there was no point in pretending.

With Xingchen occupied with Vincent, Annie was incredibly busy. Xingchen had to push him back slightly. “I have to go back to work.”

Vincent let go gracefully. “Go ahead. I will take you out to dinner tonight.”

Xingchen nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed. Once the rush was over, Annie dragged Xingchen into the breakroom. “Be honest, what is going on?”

Xingchen rubbed his nose. “Just what you saw.”

Annie almost screamed. “You kid, you are good! You hide your light under a bushel and quietly pull off something this big.” She threw an arm around his neck. “I was watching the manager for you the whole time; tell me everything, I want the details!”

The breakroom door opened at that moment, and Annie immediately dropped her arm. The room faced the secluded Area A, Vincent’s table, and Vincent had just caught sight of Annie’s arm around Xingchen.

Xingchen’s skin crawled. He looked around but did not see anything. Annie waited until they were alone again to say, “Be careful, though. Do not get your body and your heart cheated at the same time. When he pats his butt and walks away, you will be the one left crying.”

“I know,” Xingchen said, back turned to Annie as he stirred his coffee, his expression blank.

To be cheated of one’s heart, one must first possess one. He did not have that kind of thing. Xingchen took a sip of coffee and set it down; it was too hot, and he was not used to it.

As for his body, that was a tricky problem. His relationship with Vincent was unequal. And inequality meant that if the other person wanted to take, they could, and if they wanted to pull back, they could. Just like a moment ago, Vincent figured he had paid, so he could touch him, and Xingchen had no room to refuse.

Xingchen looked out the window. It was almost Christmas, and it had started to snow. That year was also a snowy night.

Eight years. It had been eight years.

He had held on for so long, guarding that ridiculous sense of innocence. Now, he might just fall because of this man. Xingchen gazed at the snow, his eyes becoming increasingly hollow. As the old saying goes, he had none of the right timing, the right place, or the right people. Now, trapped in this identity and this situation, maybe it was just as they said, what goes around comes around.

When his shift ended, Xingchen changed his clothes and stepped out of the restaurant. Nearby, the Alpine looked like a steel beast, ready to swallow him whole. The driver opened the door, and the warmth mixed with the scent of wood engulfed him. Xingchen gave a sweet smile. “Sir.”

The center console in the back seat had been retracted, and the moment Xingchen got in, he was pulled over.

“Mmph.”

The exclamation he was about to utter was blocked by a kiss. Xingchen’s pupils dilated as Vincent’s amber eyes loomed over him. A hot, wet tongue pushed inside. Xingchen instinctively tried to pull back, but his neck was held firm, and his waist was gripped tightly.

It was Xingchen’s first kiss, and in such a stimulating situation, he did not know where to put his hands or feet. Vincent’s kiss was nothing like the man himself; it was fierce, violent, and full of predatory intent. Xingchen quickly began to suffocate.

“Mmph.”

He was pressed down onto the seat. The car was spacious, but it suddenly felt quite small. As Vincent loomed over him, Xingchen could only wrap his legs around the man’s waist. The partition between the driver’s seat and the back had been raised at some point. Xingchen was dizzy from the kiss, saliva escaping the corner of his mouth uncontrollably.

No way, he thought. Is this it? Am I going to lose it this quickly on my first time?