I Want To Marry My dad, Not My Uncle - Chapter 8

Vincent satisfiedly stroked the corner of his mouth, watching him look dazed. Just one kiss had this effect on him; the future would certainly be even more fascinating.

Xingchen was genuinely short of breath. He waited for a while, but his vision was still filled with dancing stars. Terrible kissing skills.

Vincent wrapped his arms around his waist, lifting him up so that he leaned against his chest. “In the future, stay away from other people.”

Xingchen’s body felt soft. He rested against his chest, his mind unable to process the request for a moment. Who? Raymond? He had not done anything today, and when he was checking out, he had even returned those two rings and the two thousand dollars.

“Okay,” Xingchen agreed with a gentle nod, choosing not to ask or say anything more.

Vincent was satisfied with his docility, though those heavy black-rimmed glasses were an eyesore. “I will take you to get new glasses tomorrow.”

“No need, these are perfectly fine,” Xingchen replied. He did not pull away; instead, he continued to lean against him as if acting spoiled. Why get new glasses? He was not actually nearsighted. If he went for an eye exam, his charade would fall apart.

Vincent took off his glasses and brushed his thumb over the red mole under his eye. If that spot of red were not hidden, this little one would be far too eye-catching. The glasses were for the best. Seeing Vincent put the glasses back on his face, Xingchen knew he had dismissed the idea. This benefactor certainly liked to exert a lot of control.

“How long has it been since you ate?”

Yes, certainly controlling.

Xingchen thought carefully. “Just last night.”

Vincent asked again, “And before last night?”

“That bowl of dough drop soup.”

Vincent laughed. “Cipher, do you never eat unless I feed you?”

“Uh,” Xingchen thought about it; it seemed to be the case. But this had nothing to do with Vincent. Xingchen had always been like this, treating meals like a task; eating one meal was enough to last him three days.

“My mother raised me too well. If the food is not delicious, I would rather not eat at all,” Xingchen said willfully. Vincent cupped his small face and pecked him once. “Then I will feed you from now on.”

“Okay.” It would be best if I could cash that out.

Xingchen truly hoped he could cash out this meal. It was a Japanese Omakase. There was only fatty tuna, the snow crab shells were covered in black spots, and the cod milt was in a perfect, creamy state without a trace of redness. Xingchen felt nothing for food, but his persona was supposed to love these ingredients, so he ate a lot. Vincent was happy to keep feeding him, letting the chef serve extra pieces of whatever he seemed to like. Consequently, this might have been the fullest Xingchen had been in the last two years.

When the last hand roll was served, Xingchen asked to stop. Vincent wiped his mouth. “Are you full?”

Xingchen nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

The bill came to over a thousand dollars, about what Xingchen had expected. He noticed that Vincent used Apple Pay to settle the bill, which must be his standard habit. Xingchen was slightly worried that Vincent would take him to a hotel, but to his surprise, the car headed straight for his apartment. The luxurious car stopped in front of the dilapidated apartment building. A zombie-like figure with a hunched body was wandering near the entrance.

Vincent frowned slightly. “Go on, I will watch you go up.”

Xingchen was about to get out of the car, but maintaining his professional spirit, he turned back, grabbed Vincent’s suit, and kissed him on the cheek. His cool lips touched and retracted instantly. Vincent wanted to grab him, but fearing that the car would attract too much attention by staying parked there for too long, he let him go.

Xingchen ran upstairs quickly. When he looked back, the car was still there, but the windows were too dark to see anything. I will have to let the patrol officer fine me another time.

Only after entering his room did Xingchen hear the sound of the car driving away. He hurriedly called Jizuo.

“I got sixty thousand. You check it over,” Xingchen said.

Jizuo exclaimed, “Holy cow! What did you do? Who is the sucker? Sixty thousand in a day!”

Xingchen took off his wig and rubbed his scalp. “That guy, Vincent.”

“Awesome! You are my god!” Jizuo praised him for several minutes before stopping. “Although it might be discouraging to say this now, we only have five days left and still need ninety thousand. Are you sure about this?”

Xingchen took off his colored contact lenses and applied two drops of eye drops. “It should not be a problem.”

Actually, Xingchen was not very sure, but he could not show weakness in front of Jizuo. Vincent did not play by the rules. He thought the man had taken the bait, yet there was no reaction at all. Just as he was about to switch targets, Vincent handed him a room card. He thought this might be a slow-and-steady type of situation, but then Vincent handed over sixty thousand in ten minutes. However, ninety thousand in five days was still a challenge. In the past, Xingchen could predict approximately how much he would make and when, but Vincent did not fit that pattern. He did not know when this benefactor’s novelty would wear off.

Everyone has a psychological expectation for everything. How much is a date worth investing or paying for? Even without a specific number, there is a general range. Xingchen used to adjust this range constantly, from the price of a cup of coffee to the cost of a house or a car. But for Vincent, that logic did not apply. It really lived up to the saying: He is my nemesis.

His phone received an iMessage. It was from Vincent.

Vincent: “Are you resting tomorrow?”

Cipher: “I am, but I need to go to the restaurant for two hours to help with the Christmas decorations.”

Vincent: “I will take you there tomorrow morning.”

Cipher: “Thank you, sir!”

He had to take advantage of this opportunity. Xingchen woke up before dawn. He took out the bulky second-hand cotton coat from his suitcase, applied makeup to his neck and wrists, and spent two hours getting ready. When he went downstairs, the car was already waiting. The door opened, and warm air rushed out. Vincent was looking at a tablet.

“Good morning, sir,” Xingchen said, rubbing his hands together.

“Good morning,” Vincent said, putting the tablet down. He reached out to ruffle Xingchen’s hair, but Xingchen dodged it. “I just styled my hair.”

The wig was too easy to detect. Xingchen’s hair sat just below his ears, not quite reaching his shoulders. It was like a popular wolf-cut mullet, but not too flashy; it really looked good. Vincent tapped his own thigh. “Come here.”

Xingchen prepared himself and moved over. Sure enough, his waist and neck were caught, and he was thoroughly kissed. Vincent’s kiss was nothing like his gentle exterior; it felt as if he were trying to swallow him whole. His domineering tongue explored every corner of his mouth, draining all the moisture from him. Xingchen felt dizzy after a short while, his slender white hands pushing feebly against Vincent’s chest. “Mmph.”

Finally, he was released a second before he suffocated. Still terrible at kissing.

Xingchen panted in his arms, exposing a slender neck where a few red spots were visible near the collar. Vincent noticed those red spots and brushed his thumb over them. Xingchen moved uncomfortably and covered his neck, revealing red spots on his wrists as well.

“What is going on here?” Vincent grabbed his wrist. “Allergic?”

Xingchen pulled his hand back and hid it in his sleeve. “A little bit.”

Vincent caught his hand again. “What kind of allergy?”

Xingchen felt embarrassed and mumbled, “Just from the clothes.”

Vincent flipped open the back collar of his cotton coat. A small tag from a second-hand market was still hanging there. “Take it off. Wear mine.”

Xingchen shook his head. “Yours will be too big.”

“If I take it off for a while, it will clear up without needing any medicine.”

Vincent ignored him. He pinned both of his hands behind his back and stripped him with one smooth motion. Xingchen felt like a chicken in a viral video, his wings pinned down, being plucked clean in seconds. This Vincent was far too overbearing. If he truly fell into his hands, life in bed would likely not be easy.

He draped the warm wool coat over him. Xingchen had to reach forward to get his arms through the sleeves, looking like someone wearing a costume.

“Wear it for now. I will take you to buy clothes in a while.”

Xingchen had been waiting for those words and happily kissed him. “Thank you, sir.”

They arrived at the restaurant. Before Xingchen got out of the car, he heard one last thing: “Next time, if you want something, you can just tell me.”

Xingchen paused for a second, then pretended not to hear and got out of the car quickly. Xingchen had never felt so exposed in his life. Vincent seemed like an X-ray machine; nothing could hide from him. Whatever, it is a case of one willing to give and one willing to take.

The Christmas decorations in the high-end restaurant were not excessive; they focused on elegance and atmosphere, so it did not take much effort to finish in exactly two hours. Xingchen walked out wearing the coat. Vincent was leaning against the car door, his tall figure making the car look a few inches shorter.

“Sir,” Xingchen ran over.

“Change into this.” Vincent took out a shopping bag from the car with the name Ermenegildo Zegna printed on it. The average person might not know the brand, but Xingchen did; it was an Italian label. He opened the bag to find a men’s black overcoat. The tailoring was excellent; Xingchen estimated it cost about three thousand dollars.

“Thank you, sir.” Xingchen put the coat on. The size was perfect, making him look even taller. Vincent loved seeing him dressed according to his own preference. “It suits you. Let us go.”

Vincent did not bring his driver today and was driving himself, which made it feel a bit like a date. Vincent no longer needed to ask if he had eaten; he knew he had not, so he took him to a trendy dessert shop on a luxurious commercial street. Every item in the shop was exquisite enough for Instagram. Xingchen knew Vincent must have brought him there on purpose. A down-and-out young master should like such things, so Xingchen pretended to be enthusiastic and selected a few desserts.

“Sir, are you not going to eat?”

Vincent shook his head. “I do not need to.”

“Then I will have this one.” Xingchen picked a savory pastry.

The shop had a great atmosphere, and the decorations and street view were beautiful. Nearby, some girls were chatting while taking photos and debating which angle looked best. Xingchen took a few photos as well. His Instagram was managed by Jizuo, who would pick a photo that matched his style when needed. His account had not been updated for months, which fit perfectly with his situation of being destitute and not in the mood to post photos.

“Sir, have a taste.” Xingchen scraped the green onion off the savory pastry and held it to Vincent’s lips.

Vincent hesitated for a moment but took a bite. “How did you know I do not eat green onions?”

Xingchen felt very happy while eating his dessert. “I saw it when you were having dinner the other day.”

The day Vincent was eating with that Black gentleman, one of the dishes had been garnished with a few pieces of green onion. Vincent remembered that the little one was busy dealing with other customers and receiving tips; how did he notice that?

“Which brand do you usually prefer?”

Xingchen knew his flattery had hit the mark. He named a few brands, all of which were the understated, luxurious labels that only old money would know. He then turned the conversation. “Actually, I quite like horse riding. It is just that my father was mocked for being a nouveau riche, so we stopped buying those brands.”

Those old money brands were hard to liquidate, but brands like Hermès or Goyard were much better for quick cash.