We Are Not Dating! - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Breath

The pharmacist on duty was idling when she heard footsteps and looked up to see two handsome men.

They were clearly together, yet they lingered at the entrance, instinctively turning their heads away from each other. They entered the small pharmacy one after the other, their gazes never crossing, as if forcing a pretense that they were strangers.

“Which one of you is getting medicine?” the pharmacist asked.

The beautiful youth acted as if he were just passing through, slowly browsing the shelves. The taller man handed over a slip: “Excuse me, do you have all of these?”

They were all common items. As the pharmacist gathered the supplies, she noticed the two circling the medicine racks and couldn’t help but steal a few curious glances.

At checkout, Qi Shu added a pack of cooling fever patches; since it wasn’t a high fever, medication wasn’t necessary. Seeing Qi Shu’s ears were a bit red, the pharmacist assumed he was the patient and casually reminded him to monitor his temperature.

Once they were ten meters away from the shop, Jiang Zhiyu finally moved beside Qi Shu and cradled the medicine bag in his arms.

“A total of 124.3 yuan. I’ll transfer it to you now.” Jiang Zhiyu was persistent and proud; he didn’t like owing favors.

Qi Shu was his nemesis: “It’s fine. I caused the bite marks; I should pay.”

This single sentence choked Jiang Zhiyu into silence. He stopped mentioning money immediately, terrified that this shameless man would describe the absurd farce in even greater detail.

He said stiffly, “Well, thanks for driving me back.”

Qi Shu replied, “The US dollars you left on the coffee table are enough to refuel this car many times over.”

“I saw the things you bought; I felt I should bear that cost myself,” Jiang Zhiyu explained.

“A set of clothes isn’t worth that much,” Qi Shu reminded him.

“Consider the rest a tip then.” Jiang Zhiyu finally found an opportunity to be a rogue and teased him.

However, Qi Shu turned his face, showing no sign of losing his composure. Seeing Jiang Zhiyu’s triumphant expression, he curled his lip ambiguously.

“Fine. Since you were so satisfied with last night, it makes sense that I’d be rewarded,” Qi Shu responded airily.

Jiang Zhiyu: ?

Thinking of the tears shed on the bed, his still-raspy voice, and the unhealed marks, he nearly lost his refined facade. He snapped back: “I only did it because the shirt you ordered fit well. You have a good sense of ‘proactive service’—you didn’t just guess a random size.”

“Oh.” Qi Shu accepted the praise. Then he clarified: “That actually had nothing to do with service awareness. It was mainly because when I woke up, your entire person was squeezed against me.”

Jiang Zhiyu: ? He felt like a giant bucket of dirty water had just been thrown in his face!

Qi Shu continued his analysis: “I noticed you’re clearly a size smaller than me, so it was quite easy to estimate.”

Jiang Zhiyu: “.” Unfortunately, by the time he woke up, the other man was already out of bed. He had zero advantage in this conversation. Could he only stand there and endure the slander?

“I couldn’t have squeezed against you,” he muttered insistently.

Qi Shu humored him: “Alright. Anyway, my arm was used as your pillow all night. It’s just stiff, not dislocated; otherwise, I’d take a CT scan as evidence.”

Jiang Zhiyu was incredulous: “Maybe you just have bad sleeping habits?”

Hearing him bring this up, Qi Shu found it hilarious. Jiang Zhiyu was the one who insisted on snuggling up to sleep, yet now he was turning black into white.

In the semi-conscious hours of early morning, Qi Shu had been lying on his side with his back to Jiang. He felt Jiang’s head pressed against his shoulder blade. He moved outward and lay flat, only for Jiang to muddledly lift a leg and hook it intimately over him. Qi Shu thought about shaking him awake, but as soon as he turned over, Jiang dove straight into his arms.

The tossing and turning had chased away his sleepiness. By then the alcohol had dissipated, so he simply went to the bathroom for a cold shower. With Jiang Zhiyu’s terrible sleeping habits, what kind of person could actually lie beside him?

Qi Shu thought this silently without defending himself, and Jiang Zhiyu took his silence for a guilty conscience.

Jiang Zhiyu remembered a suspicious point: “When I woke up today, I was covered with a cashmere blanket, not the hotel duvet… That’s right, you definitely like to hog the covers!”

Qi Shu looked like he wanted to say something but stopped. Jiang Zhiyu tilted his head to look at him, his peach-blossom eyes narrowing slightly.

“The morning was very chaotic. I imagine you weren’t in the mood to look at the specific state of the room,” Qi Shu spoke unhurriedly.

Actually, Jiang Zhiyu had scanned the room, but only cursorily. It wasn’t about his mood; it was just that the visuals were too impactful. Who would dare to look closely at those torn pieces of fabric?

“The duvet was at the foot of the bed,” Qi Shu said. “That’s how it was when I got up. The blanket was something I had the hotel bring up.”

Jiang Zhiyu was stunned: “Why not use the duvet?”

“It was soaked. I couldn’t wrap you in it,” Qi Shu looked away. “If you want to ask further why the duvet was wet…”

Sensing where this was going, Jiang Zhiyu shouted immediately: “Sorry! I don’t want to know at all!”

The May evening breeze was cool. On the busy street, they stood at a proper social distance, chatting while waiting for the light. A delivery rider charged through, nearly brushing against Jiang Zhiyu. Qi Shu reacted quickly, pulling him behind him, bringing them very close.

The rider swerved, nearly falling, and shouted back: “Damn, you stinking couples, can you stop being gay on the crosswalk!”

Jiang Zhiyu’s scalp tingled, and he made a move to argue back. But the man sped off, and before he could react, his wrist was still being held. He turned back gloomily, and Qi Shu let go almost instantly.

The atmosphere turned subtle. They were standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder. Jiang Zhiyu wanted to move away, but would backing away make him look oversensitive and clumsy? He decided to stay put. Anyway, Alfred is handsome; he’s eye candy from up close.

Just a bad personality. Very aggressive. Can a guy like this really make a living as an escort? Jiang pondered, remembering Alfred’s mother calling earlier to tell him to avoid social drinking.

Given Alfred’s lifestyle—the car and house were worth a fortune—his “job” was probably just a hobby to kill time and build a network. There were many rich kids like that; Jiang knew people like him. His own job, however, required immense effort behind the flexible hours.

As they walked, Jiang’s mind drifted to the Songcheng manuscript. He didn’t speak, and Qi Shu remained silent, until the butler of the serviced apartments broke the quiet.

“Mr. Jiang, just off work?” The butler was enthusiastic. “Have you eaten?”

They had reached the Borman Mansion. The lobby was grand, featuring a front desk, lounge, and cafe. A lecture was currently being held, with banners and a PPT playing.

“We’re doing a community safety awareness campaign today. Are you free? If you participate, we’re giving out gifts,” the butler explained.

After his recent ordeal, Jiang Zhiyu’s safety awareness was at an all-time high, but he didn’t feel like listening to a lecture. However, the butler pleaded; it was a workday, many residents weren’t home yet, and the photos wouldn’t meet the head-count requirement.

“Where do I sign up?” Jiang Zhiyu asked kindly. The butler said no sign-up was needed; they were giving out cotton plushies afterward. Jiang was past the age of liking toys, but he wasn’t in a rush, and as a fellow “corporate slave,” he felt he should help.

Jiang sat on a back-row sofa, and Qi Shu sat down beside him.

“Someone in front is looking at you,” Qi Shu said. “Do you know them? Do you want to move over there?”

Jiang was used to being stared at. He didn’t miss the chance to spar with Qi Shu.

“No. My butt hurts,” he said.

The bluntness of those words caught Qi Shu off guard. He paused. “Then go back and rest. If you want to help the butler, I can call some people to fill the seats.”

Jiang muttered to himself: Who would you call? A squad of male and female models? That wouldn’t look like a safety campaign; it would look like a paradise for people who don’t have to work.

Jiang said: “No need. I’m competing for a project lead position soon; I’m building up some good karma for myself.”

“You value that job a lot?” Qi Shu seemed curious.

“I’ve never led such an important meeting, and the client is high-spec. I need it on my resume,” Jiang said.

“The higher the level of the client, the more they seek stability,” Qi Shu noted. Meaning, big companies value experience over raw youth.

Jiang frowned and answered seriously: “They are an investment bank. I studied Macroeconomics as an undergrad; I have a better foundation than language majors. I think I have a shot.”

Qi Shu looked at him: “Then why didn’t you go into finance?”

“I don’t like it,” Jiang replied. “I interned for six months. I don’t want to see that group of ‘fox spirits’ every day. I’d rather change careers and just take their money.” He added: “If I don’t get chosen, it doesn’t matter. My intuition tells me their Chief isn’t great.”

Qi Shu chuckled softly: “Is that your self-consolation for losing—that you ‘escaped a disaster’?”

Jiang was sharp: “No, it would just confirm my intuition that this guy, Qi Shu, has bad taste.”

They whispered in the corner. Originally sitting upright, they were now leaning in, their heads gradually drawing closer as they talked.

Qi Shu heard Jiang bad-mouthing him again. He intended to give him a cold glance, but as he turned his head, his nose caught a pleasant scent. It wasn’t cologne or a solid perfume. He recalled that on the way over, Jiang had applied some moisturizing lip balm.

Does that balm have a scent? It was fruity and very sweet. Before he could investigate, Jiang suddenly sat up straight. The scent vanished.

By now, it was nearly 6 PM. White-collar workers were returning, and the butler had filled the seats. The lecture was well-prepared. Both men observed listening etiquette and stopped bickering once the speaker started. The talk covered everything from video-chat scams to “pig-butchering” schemes, warning everyone to protect their privacy.

“When you meet a ‘pretty boy’ like that, be careful,” the speaker said. “With a face that good, would they really be single these days? Why would they specifically want to date you?”

The speaker continued: “Whether it’s gaming or bars, if a stranger adds you, don’t treat them like a brother immediately. Watch out for information leaks.”

Jiang listened with interest. When the lecture ended, the butler brought out a box of dolls. Since they were in the back, only two grey rabbits were left. One for each of them.

As the audience dispersed, Jiang bid Qi Shu farewell. “It’s a bit late, I won’t invite you up,” he used a casual excuse. “There’s a mall nearby for dinner.”

Qi Shu hadn’t expected to go up anyway. They weren’t even friends. However, remembering Jiang’s low fever, he told him to reach out if he needed anything.

It was a polite platitude. Jiang responded in kind: “I haven’t given you my number yet.”

He had Qi Shu’s note, but the other man had nothing but a vague English name. They both knew today was a massive coincidence. After parting, they should return to their separate lives and never meet again.

But the formalities had to be handled. As an interpreter, Jiang carried business cards and a fountain pen. He took one out. He elegantly wrote down his number, his handwriting more refined than Qi Shu’s.

As he clicked the pen cap back on, he looked at Qi Shu’s cold profile and a mischievous idea took hold.

His fingers were white and slender. Holding the thin card, he didn’t hand it over directly. Instead, he lightly touched it to the corner of his lips.

The moisturizing balm hadn’t fully dried, but it had no color like lipstick. Thus, a nearly transparent lip print was left on the white card.

He didn’t place it in Alfred’s hand. Instead, he nimbly hooked open the pocket of Alfred’s trench coat and tucked it inside.

In Qi Shu’s eyes, this was extraordinary. No one had ever dared do this to him, and he usually loathed such gestures. It crossed a line—but they had been over the red line since the moment they first exchanged glances while sober.

“Bye-bye,” Jiang Zhiyu said brightly. “I have to get to work and go test the client’s ‘taste’.”

How good Qi Shu’s vision was hadn’t been measured by equipment, but his sense of smell was certainly clear. Back in his car, he took out the card with lowered lashes. The evening breeze blew through the window. He looked at the roadside trash can but, in the end, did not throw the card away.

He now knew Jiang Zhiyu’s lips tasted like grapefruit.

He ate dinner and returned to the Songcheng building within an hour. When he reached his office, his secretary was preparing to leave.

“President Qi,” the secretary said. “The candidates from Puyin have sent their feedback emails. I’ve CC’d them to you.”

Qi Shu paused, surprised by Jiang Zhiyu’s efficiency. The secretary added: “I’ve screened them, and I think Director Jiang is excellent. If you agree after reading, I’ll invite him for an interview.”

Qi Shu nodded and opened the email. He flipped through the manuscript. The high-level translation had a warmth that machines lacked; Jiang’s phrasing had distinct style. Qi Shu assessed it as perfect, then looked at the phone number.

Hearing Jiang’s arrogant words in his mind, a wicked desire stirred. He planned to notify him personally in his capacity as the Client. He took out his phone and dialed the number.

After three rings, a female voice said: “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service.”

Qi Shu was surprised. He opened the previously saved resume to check the digits. He realized that after listening to the safety lecture…

Jiang Zhiyu had intentionally changed the last three digits from “547” to “886” (internet slang for “bye-bye”). With those innocent, peach-blossom eyes, he had decisively tucked that “dead” card into Qi Shu’s pocket.

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