The Wealthy Old Man’s Palm-Sized Pet - Chapter 3

Song Zhiyuan didn’t have a bad tolerance for alcohol; he wasn’t the type to get drunk after just two glasses. But even with a decent tolerance, drinking too much will eventually take its toll.

After leaving the restroom, Song Zhiyuan lay directly on a sofa and took a deep breath. He had washed his face while inside; now, a few stray droplets of water clung to the tips of his hair. One fell onto his cheek, sliding down his face, past his jawline, down his slender neck, and over the small red mole on his Adam’s apple.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Despite it being night, the temperature remained a bit high. Feeling warm, Song Zhiyuan unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. The light in the room was dim, creating a sharp contrast with the bright lights outside. In the shadows, Song Zhiyuan closed his eyes.

Under the faint yellow light, he was quiet, looking as if he had fallen asleep, his fair and slender neck exposed without defense. His vivid pink lips, delicate neck, and thin waist made him look fragile and thin.

Fu Xingnian watched him, a hint of doubt in his eyes. He wasn’t sure if Song Zhiyuan had come here on purpose or if he had simply stumbled in while drunk. But the timing was too perfect; Fu Xingnian found it hard to believe it was an accident, considering the boy had previously waited for him outside a club and turned out to be Fu Can’s classmate.

Seeing Song Zhiyuan sitting there, Fu Xingnian took a sip of his wine. He noted that the boy hadn’t proactively approached him to talk yet was this a new tactic?

However, this time Song Zhiyuan truly hadn’t done it on purpose. He had simply wanted a restroom and a quiet place to rest his dizzy head. Despite his closed eyes, his mind was racing. He wondered why Fu Xingnian didn’t like him. Fu Can had mentioned his uncle liked men and had many ex-boyfriends; that was why Song Zhiyuan had dared to seek him out, hoping he wouldn’t have to feel so much guilt. Yet, he seemed unable to catch Fu Xingnian’s eye. After two meetings, the man’s gaze remained entirely unruffled.

Song Zhiyuan let out a heavy sigh in his heart. After resting for ten minutes, his head cleared slightly. It was late; he should go home. His instincts returned as he sobered up, and he felt someone watching him. He opened his eyes and scanned the room, spotting a man sitting in a dark corner, leisurely swirling a wine glass.

Recognizing the face, Song Zhiyuan sat up with a start. When did Fu Xingnian come in? Or rather, he must have been here all along. He had accidentally intruded into Fu Xingnian’s private space.

Song Zhiyuan walked over to greet him, though it felt a bit late for pleasantries. “Mr. Fu, what a coincidence.”

Fu Xingnian looked at him. “Yes, what a coincidence.”

His tone clearly signaled disbelief. Song Zhiyuan decided to explain: “I was a bit dizzy and got lost. I didn’t know you were here.” (If he had known, he would have approached him much sooner.)

Fu Xingnian didn’t speak, but drained his glass in one go. Song Zhiyuan naturally reached out to pour him more. Fu Xingnian didn’t stop him. “Why aren’t you playing the card game with them?”

Song Zhiyuan froze. “I’m not used to it.”

Because Song Zhiyuan had unbuttoned his shirt, as he leaned forward to pour the wine, his beautiful collarbones were fully exposed. The snowy skin of his chest was visible, and one could even catch a glimpse of his slender waist. Fu Xingnian had to admit he had never seen such a thin waist; it looked incredibly soft.

Song Zhiyuan, unaware, focused on the wine. At such close proximity, it was the first time Fu Xingnian had truly looked at the boy. He was exceptionally beautiful: clear eyes under long lashes, lips like begonias, and that tiny red mole on his Adam’s apple—it looked particularly vivid.

Once the glass was nearly full of amber liquid, Song Zhiyuan smiled. “Mr. Fu, it’s poured.”

Fu Xingnian took a sip. The chilled wine tasted even more mellow and rich. Song Zhiyuan watched him quietly. Silence reigned until the glass was almost empty again.

Song Zhiyuan’s phone vibrated; it was Fu Can. Two rounds of games had passed, and Fu Can was worried about his missing friend. “Song Zhiyuan, where are you? Are you lost? I’ll come find you.”

Song Zhiyuan glanced at Fu Xingnian, who was swirling the ice cubes in his empty glass, the clinking sound oddly pleasant. Song Zhiyuan looked away. “No need, I’m coming back now.”

After hanging up, Song Zhiyuan said, “Mr. Fu, I’m leaving now. If there’s a chance, can I pour wine for you next time?” He stared at Fu Xingnian.

Fu Xingnian’s fingers idly rubbed the glass before his gaze landed on the boy’s collarbone. “Fasten your buttons before you leave.”

Song Zhiyuan looked down in confusion, only then remembering the buttons he had undone. His collar was indeed gaping open. He gave an “oh” and, after buttoning up, left the room, thoughtfully closing the door behind him.

After he left, the room returned to silence, but Song Zhiyuan’s heart was far from calm. How did Fu Xingnian know they were playing the card game? He must have been watching them from the balcony. That room overlooked the garden and caught the sound of their revelry. He had thought Fu Xingnian wasn’t paying him any attention, but it seemed the man had begun to notice him.

Back in the garden, Fu Can rushed over. “Are you okay? I looked everywhere for you!”

Song Zhiyuan explained he had just gotten lost and ended up upstairs. Fu Can knew he was safe in the villa, but he had worried Song Zhiyuan might run into his uncle. Given his uncle’s temperament, he feared his friend might be frightened. Looking at him now, it seemed Song Zhiyuan hadn’t met him.

“Fu Can, I’m going home now.” After a long night, Song Zhiyuan was tired and sleepy.

“I’ll take you back.”

Catching sight of a figure upstairs from the corner of his eye, Song Zhiyuan said, “Then, thank you.”

“Don’t be polite, we’re friends.” Fu Can put an arm around him. “Let’s go.”

After they left, the figure upstairs disappeared. Since Fu Can had also been drinking, he had the family driver take them. As they sat in the back, Fu Can noted it had been nearly a month since they last met. He felt Song Zhiyuan was troubled by something, but the latter wouldn’t tell him.

“Song Zhiyuan, do you remember how we met?”

Song Zhiyuan smiled. “Of course.”

“We were punished with ten laps. Afterwards, our legs didn’t feel like our own. We had to support each other to get back.”

Recalling the scene, Song Zhiyuan laughed. He looked beautiful when he laughed, like a flower blooming; those around him would find their moods inadvertently brightened. Fu Can wanted to protect that smile forever.

“Song Zhiyuan, we’re best friends. If you have any trouble, tell me. I will definitely help you.” Given the Fu family’s power, this wasn’t an empty boast.

Song Zhiyuan looked at him, his eyes beautiful. Fu Can suddenly felt thirsty; he found himself wanting to kiss that tiny red mole on Song Zhiyuan’s Adam’s apple it surely tasted sweet.

“I’m fine, really,” Song Zhiyuan said.

Fu Can swallowed hard. “Really?”

Song Zhiyuan knew Fu Can truly cared and was willing to help, but there were some things he didn’t want Fu Can to be involved in. “Really.”

One of the reasons Fu Can had insisted on seeing him home was to find out if anything was wrong. Seeing Fu Can’s questioning gaze, Song Zhiyuan added, “It’s just that my dad hasn’t shown up in a long time.”

Fu Can knew of Song Tianlai; though he was Song Zhiyuan’s father, Fu Can loathed him. He had never seen such a poor father one who never cared for his son, only gambled and drank, and often hit him. Hearing he had been gone so long, Fu Can was surprised.

“Should I help you find him?” Fu Can suggested. Finding a person shouldn’t be hard for the Fu family.

Song Zhiyuan and the debt collectors hadn’t found him for months; he had no idea where the man was hiding. If he could be found, he could be forced to clean up his own mess so it wouldn’t affect his grandmother. But Song Zhiyuan didn’t want Fu Can to know about the ugly details of his family.

“It’s fine. Once he’s had his fun, he’ll come back. It’s always like this.”

Fu Can thought it over and agreed; Song Tianlai was often away when Fu Can visited. He felt sorry for his friend and began telling jokes to cheer him up. Song Zhiyuan did indeed giggle.

By the time he got home and washed up, Song Zhiyuan lay in bed. The debt collectors hadn’t troubled him for two days; though he didn’t know why, it was a relief. He thought about the evening, but could find no clues; Fu Xingnian still hadn’t given him a response. And where was Song Tianlai?

A thought occurred to him, but he quickly shook his head. Song Tianlai wouldn’t go to his mother; they had been divorced for years and had long since cut off all contact.

Before he knew it, Song Zhiyuan fell asleep.