Why Does First Love Feel This Sweet? - Chapter 8

Chapter: 8 The Detective and the “Little Lobster”

Rong Yu drove Sheng Yi to the hot pot restaurant to meet Cheng Wenge. As Sheng Yi got out of the car, he flashed a smile at the man inside. “Wife, wait for me at home.”

Rong Yu pulled a black card from his wallet and handed it to him. Sheng Yi realized then that he didn’t have a cent on him. Though Rong Yu always left cash and cards in his studio drawer, Sheng Yi had never used them because he had been taken care of so well he had no need to spend money.

“No limit,” Rong Yu said, tucking the card into Sheng Yi’s pocket with an air of quiet authority. “The PIN is the same as the door lock.”

Sheng Yi didn’t refuse. He felt that spending a bit of Rong Yu’s money might actually make him feel less guilty. “Thanks, wife.”

“Don’t drink. Come home early,” Rong Yu instructed, his hand on the steering wheel, looking like a worried spouse. “Keep your phone on. Call me when you’re done, and I’ll pick you up.”

Sheng Yi wanted to laugh. He called him “wife” for a reason—Rong Yu truly acted like one. “Xiao Yu, you really are like a wife to me.”

Rong Yu chuckled softly, his gaze turning serious. “I’m not sad because of your amnesia. If there’s anything else you want to know after talking to him, you can ask me when you get home.”

Keep pretending, Sheng Yi thought. I’ve seen right through you.

…

Inside the private room of the beef hot pot restaurant, Cheng Wenge was drinking alone, his sleeves rolled up. When Sheng Yi entered, Cheng Wenge froze for a few seconds.

Sheng Yi analyzed him instantly: Handsome, fashionable, a bit of a “wild” artistic soul, likely wealthy, and definitely a lady-killer. Rong Yu’s ‘fiancée’ was probably just one of his many romantic entanglements, Sheng Yi surmised.

“Drink this and apologize, then I’ll forgive you,” Cheng Wenge said, pushing a tall glass of beer toward him.

“Friend, I’m sorry,” Sheng Yi explained. “I had an accident. I have amnesia. I don’t remember who you are.”

Cheng Wenge stared, stunned. Then, a hint of bitterness entered his voice. “You forgot me? Then how do you still remember Rong Yu?!”

Sheng Yi: “…” This friend is quite the jealous type.

After explaining the situation, Cheng Wenge’s eyes welled up. He pulled Sheng Yi into a hug. “I can’t believe I wasn’t there to help… you’ve suffered so much.”

As they ate, Cheng Wenge filled in the gaps. He confirmed the bankruptcy and the fire on Sheng Yi’s 18th birthday. But then, his tone turned sharp. “That kid Rong Yu… he hid you for three years. It’s terrifying.”

“He tricked you into marriage while you were vulnerable,” Cheng Wenge continued, cold-eyed. “He’s taking advantage of the situation. It’s low.”

Sheng Yi tried to defend the “fake marriage” setup, but Cheng Wenge scoffed. “You’re too simple, Xiao Yi. You really can’t see it? Rong Yu likes you.”

Sheng Yi choked on his tea. “Do you have evidence? You can’t just say things like that.”

“Think about it yourself,” Cheng Wenge sighed. “He gave up a top-tier world university to nurse you for three years. He bathes you, cooks for you, sponsors your school… and he just gave you a limitless black card?”

Sheng Yi’s face flushed from his neck to the tips of his ears.

“Back in senior year,” Cheng Wenge recalled, “you told me you liked the school goddess, and a few days later, you and Rong Yu had a falling out. My guess is he couldn’t hide his feelings anymore, you found out, and you fought. You didn’t speak until graduation.”

Sheng Yi sat in stunned silence. This was heavy.

…

Cheng Wenge offered him an apartment to move into immediately to “escape” Rong Yu’s control. But Sheng Yi, after a quiet walk in the garden to calm his racing heart, decided he needed to confirm it for himself first.

“I won’t be harmed,” Sheng Yi told a worried Cheng Wenge. “I’ll test him tonight.”

Back at the villa, Sheng Yi sat by the pool, nervously reciting poetry to stay calm. “The waters of the Yellow River flow from the sky… morning like… morning like…”

“Morning like black silk, evening like snow,” a magnetic voice finished the line.

Rong Yu stood there, wearing thin silver-rimmed glasses and a long cardigan, looking calm and scholarly. He approached and cupped Sheng Yi’s face with warm hands. “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?”

Sheng Yi flinched away instinctively. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Rong Yu’s hand paused in the air before he slowly tucked it back into his pocket. “Don’t catch a cold. Go inside.”

…

In the bathroom, the hot water was already waiting. Sheng Yi stepped into the tub, his heart heavy. Is it true? Does Xiao Yu have ‘those’ feelings for me?

Ten minutes later, Rong Yu knocked. “Need help?”

Sheng Yi slipped in the tub with a splash, coughing as he swallowed water.

For the past month, he had let Rong Yu bathe him because he was weak and, frankly, lazy. Now, he looked at it through a different lens. Is he raising me like a little pig for slaughter?

This is the perfect chance, Sheng Yi thought. No man can look at the body of the person they love without a reaction. I’ll watch him closely.

Rong Yu entered. The air was thick with steam. Sheng Yi sat on the wooden stool, covered in bubbles, staring intently at the man in the mirror.

Rong Yu looked perfect—the muscles of his arms, the clean jawline, the focused expression. He looked like a male lead straight out of a romance manga.

Suddenly, Sheng Yi heard it. Thump-thump, thump-thump.

A loud heartbeat.

Evidence! Sheng Yi’s mind screamed. He’s my friend, but he wants to sleep with me!

Rong Yu’s hands stopped. He cupped Sheng Yi’s chin, tilting his face upward.

Here it comes! Sheng Yi panicked. He can’t control himself anymore! Should I hit him? Where can I hit him that it won’t leave a bruise?

“What is it?” Rong Yu asked softly, a hint of a smile in his eyes.

“N-nothing,” Sheng Yi stammered, trying to look cool. The one with a guilty conscience is the one who should be panicking!

Rong Yu’s thumb, smelling of mint shampoo, grazed Sheng Yi’s burning cheek. He chuckled. “Why are you so shy today?”

Sheng Yi blinked. “Huh?” Me? Shy? Aren’t you the one who should be embarrassed?

Rong Yu let go and turned Sheng Yi’s head toward the mirror.

Through the fog, Sheng Yi saw a boy sitting on a stool. His skin was so red he looked like a freshly boiled lobster. From his stiff hair to his curled toes, every inch of him screamed “guilty conscience.”

Compared to the perfectly calm man standing behind him, the boy on the stool looked like the one who had been caught having “dirty thoughts.”

Sheng Yi: “…”

Rong Yu’s gaze traveled slowly down Sheng Yi’s body, taking everything in with clinical detachment. Finally, he pinched Sheng Yi’s cheek.

“Too thin,” Dr. Rong evaluated in his professional medical tone. “Gain another five kilograms.”

Sheng Yi: “…………”

Sheng Yi closed his eyes, his face flaming. His inner turmoil died a shameful death.

Damn it.

I’m the clown here.