Archive of Our Own

Xiao Zhan had ordered him not to play with lego in the hotel lobby. Xiao Zhan’s word is law in the little bed and breakfast that they run, so Yibo obeys. He plays with the lego at the reception desk instead. 

Of course, the bed and breakfast is not exactly theirs. Technically speaking, Xiao Zhan owns most of it. He owns all the cosily furnished rooms, the little sunlit breakfast cafe, the small garden with the swing, the tidy kitchen where their auntie chef reigns supreme, the ancient lift that clanks its way between the four floors, the ice and drinks vending machines located on the second floor, and the coin laundry room on the third floor that keeps Yibo busy with restocking detergent capsules. Yibo owns only one thing in the bed and breakfast; his small queen room on the second floor cluttered over with a myriad of motorcycle helmets, lego sets, skateboards, carelessly folded clothes, and an old ASUS laptop that he can never locate in times of emergency.  

Technically, Yibo doesn’t own that room either. He has to pay rent on it - a very generously discounted rate of 500 CNY per month, which Xiao Zhan frequently has to be reminded to deduct out of his salary - but that’s a minor detail. The room has Yibo written all over it and is off limits to the hotel guests, so Yibo considers it his. 

Yibo is also very pleased that the room has Xiao Zhan written all over it too. But that’s another story. 

The current story is that Xiao Zhan is away for a fortnight, visiting family and friends in Chongqing and Shanghai, and so the bed and breakfast is Yibo’s . And he’s going to play with his brand new, limited edition lego set wherever he wants. 

Though, perhaps, not in the hotel lobby. 

-

Xiao Zhan did not always own a bed and breakfast. He did not even, in fact, spend the first twenty-eight years of his life ever dreaming that he would one day be a bed and breakfast owner. He’d wanted to be a singer, and so he had pursued being one. The rest of it happened the way it happened, in the way that life frequently does. 

Deep in the Jilin province, in the snow-capped alpine mountains of Beidahu, there is an expensive, world-class ski resort that attracts people from all over the world. Surrounding the ski resort is a plethora of little shops and restaurants, inns and guesthouses, all making a living from the holidaymakers looking for a break from the ski slopes. The bed and breakfast lies unobtrusively on a quiet mountain road by the shores of a stream that runs through the ski town. An elderly couple had built it and ran it for four decades. It is now Xiao Zhan’s property. 

He first came by the area four years ago on a friend’s recommendation, seeking a few days’ respite from the madding crowds of China’s entertainment industry. It was the first break he’d had in eight years since becoming a celebrity, and he didn’t want to spend it in yet another soulless, branded five-star hotel that had become the default of his nomadic existence. The bed and breakfast had seen better days with faded pink paint flaking off at the corners and a courageously functioning telephone at the reception that had been bought in the 1970s, but it still held an old-world, domestic sort of charm. Xiao Zhan fell in love with it immediately. The fact that the owners, Uncle and Auntie Chen, had no idea who he was made it even more appealing. 

One year later, mired deep in a controversy that he didn’t cause, Xiao Zhan visited the bed and breakfast again. The sun was just as bright as it had been a year ago; the sky as blue. The Chens remembered him fondly. His room windows opened out to a small balcony over the stream and a magnificent view of the surrounding mountains. Xiao Zhan didn’t ski. Instead, he spent the four days of his hiatus sitting on the balcony painting the mountains. On the last day, he wrote a short fanciful story about the fairies who lived up in the woods and came down every day to bring little gifts to the travellers who moved in and out of Beidahu; a fallen autumn leaf at a girl’s feet, a beam of moonlight shining into a room, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees as a couple strolled below. When he left and went back to contend with his life in Beijing, his heart was calm and happy. 

Two years later, after a long period of inactivity as he grappled with near-depression from being the target of constant stalking and malicious rumours, he returned to Beidahu again. The bed and breakfast was closed indefinitely. After some persistent searching, he located Auntie Chen and found out that Uncle Chen had had a fall six months ago and couldn’t walk anymore without a crutch. They had taken it as a sign that they should retire. Xiao Zhan suddenly saw a new path in life opening before him, free of the stresses and frustrations of celebrity-dom, if only he dared to take it. He dared. The sale was agreed on and completed within two days, and Xiao Zhan made headlines when he announced his retirement from the entertainment scene. 

It took a surprisingly short amount of time to move his life from Beijing to Beidahu. He bought a small apartment near the bed and breakfast - a simple one-bedroom that had sunlight streaming in through large picture windows - filled it with his favourite art pieces, stocked up the kitchen, and fell to tackling his new venture.

Running a bed and breakfast was far outside his realm of experience and not anywhere near as easy as it looked. It required sixteen-hour work days at the start, a great deal of financial investment to refurbish and modernise without spoiling its family-run charm, a lot of time investment to recruit workers, a lot of learning to do about managing staff and making a business profitable. But Xiao Zhan had always been a workaholic with a sharp business mind. Within six months, he had a fully functioning bed and breakfast, named Chen’s B&B in honour of the previous owners. He had a list of celebrity clientele, trusted friends from the entertainment circles who chose to stay at his bed and breakfast instead of the branded hotels clustered around the ski slopes. He had fans who came with their families and told him that they’d support him no matter what he chose to do. And, most importantly, he had retained the clientele from the bed and breakfast’s previous existence, who told him that they loved what he’d done with the place and would continue booking stays there during their trips to Beidahu. 

Three months later, operating at capacity during the peak winter season, it became clear that he needed extra help. He put up recruitment notices and hired a headhunter. There were over three hundred applications, from which he had to weed out those that sounded suspiciously like stalker fans. He conducted ten unsatisfactory interviews. 

Then a boy, rattling past the quiet road on an old motorbike, saw the ‘Help Wanted’ notice on the window, stopped and presented himself. He was from Beidahuzhen, a tiny residential town about twenty minutes’ drive away; a high school graduate who’d become a part-time motorbike mechanic in Jilin City instead of going to university because he loved motorbikes more than studying. When Xiao Zhan asked him why he wanted the job at the bed and breakfast, he said bluntly that his parents wanted him to find a stable job with a decent salary, and there wasn’t anything that he specially wanted to do, so why not? If he got the job, could he be allowed to tinker with his motorbike during his lunch breaks? 

For no particular reason aside from the boy’s intriguing passion for motorbikes, and against many of his better instincts, Xiao Zhan hired him. His name was Wang Yibo. 

And that was the start, as they say. 

-

Yibo doesn’t really have a job description. Officially, he is the ‘assistant manager’, in charge of ‘the day to day running of the bed and breakfast’. Unofficially, he is the receptionist, cleaner, server, occasional bellboy, procurement officer, and general errand boy. 

In his first week, he checks in a total of six guests wrongly. That is to say, he assigns them to the wrong rooms, mixes up their names, and can’t tell their faces apart when they come down to complain. 

“How can you mix them up?” Xiao Zhan says in disbelief. “Miss Xue is the girl in her twenties who’s here with her boyfriend for their anniversary, and Mrs Li is the woman in her fifties with a husband and three kids.” 

“Women all kind of look the same to me,” Yibo explains. 

“Can’t you look at the men, then? Surely the boyfriend doesn’t look like the husband?” 

“I didn’t notice them. I was too busy figuring out the checking in system on the computer. You know, you should really invest in a more user-friendly programme.” 

“This programme is cutting-edge, top of the line hotel industry standard software.”

“Ah well,” says Yibo. “I wrote down their names and room numbers, cause I figured you could help me input them into the system.” He holds out a hastily torn off scrap of notebook paper with squiggly characters on it. They look like hieroglyphics, no matter how Xiao Zhan positions the paper to catch the light. 

Yibo gets a big telling off. The message is loud and clear. By the next day, he has mastered the programme.

In his third week, he forgets to order the week’s supply of detergent capsules and of course they run out. Guests, who came expecting the service of ‘coin laundry’ since it was listed on the website, are left stranded with loads of unwashed clothes. Their auntie who comes in daily to oversee the washing of the bedsheets and towels is left sitting in the laundry room, anxiously wondering what to do. Housekeeping grinds to a halt. 

“It’s not a big deal,” says Yibo. “I’ll just get on my bike and go to the nearest supermarket to buy a new box.” 

“The supermarket marks up the price of the capsules by 50% compared to our regular supplier,” Xiao Zhan says. His head is in his hands, because Yibo’s induction manual had clearly listed down every item that had to be ordered weekly, and somehow Yibo’s mind had skipped over ‘detergent capsules’. 

“Take it out of my salary,” Yibo says grandly. “But I’ll need petty cash to pay for the parking at the supermarket. It’s so expensive. Gross how everything in this area is designed to rip tourists off just because it’s touristy.” 

Xiao Zhan gets out the petty cash, but just before Yibo turns away to grab his helmet, he heaves a little sigh of disappointment. That sigh goes straight to Yibo’s heart and causes him to think quite deeply about his responsibilities on the way to the supermarket. 

After that incident, the detergent capsules arrive promptly at seven a.m. every Monday, and Yibo has them recorded and sorted out before Xiao Zhan comes in at eight.

-

Breakfast service is as simple and straightforward as breakfast service can be. There are ten tables inside the little cafe and five tables out in the garden, catering for twenty hotel rooms, and breakfast runs from seven a.m. till ten a.m. The kitchen is run by an extremely competent auntie chef and two helpers who dish up a homely mix of noodles, buns, congee and vegetables for those with Chinese tastes, and eggs and bread for those more inclined to Western tastes. A coffee machine serves reasonable cappuccinos and lattes, next to a much-admired, comprehensive selection of teas from Yunnan, Sichuan, Fujian, Tibet and Taiwan (many reviewers have praised the tea selection as being the best they’ve ever seen at a hotel breakfast). The buffet is regularly topped up and cleaned by a serving boy who comes in every morning. Yibo simply plays soothing music on the audio system and drops by to ensure that everything’s in order when he’s not busy checking out guests. 

Xiao Zhan rarely visits the breakfast service, believing that things tend to run more smoothly without the boss poking his nose about, disrupting the flow of activity and intimidating all the employees. But one morning, he runs out of tea in the back office, drops by the cafe to grab a new teabag, and is astonished to see Yibo dancing on the garden patio in front of four very appreciative guests. He’s not only dancing. He’s dancing very well. The last time Xiao Zhan witnessed this level of dancing, he was guesting on a variety show and the lead dancer from an idol group was having a dance battle with one of the hosts. 

He pokes his head out of the glass door momentarily to ascertain that Yibo isn’t disturbing the guests. A burst of laughter, applause and music from a smartphone greets him, so Xiao Zhan starts to withdraw. 

“Wait!” Yibo calls suddenly, spotting him. “Come out and join us, laoban.” 

Xiao Zhan hesitates, thinking of the P&L figures that he’s busily working out before the month’s end. But Yibo is glowing in the morning sunlight and has the biggest smile on his face that Xiao Zhan has seen yet, and he finds that he can’t quite walk away. 

“I didn’t know you could dance like that,” he says, smiling as he steps out onto the patio. 

“I recognised him from his BiliBili videos!” one of the guests, a young lady with dyed brown hair, says. “He used to post up a lot of dance covers of kpop songs.”

“Used to? Not anymore?” 

“I’m a busy working man now,” says Yibo with a playful bow. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is my boss, Xiao Zhan.” 

The guests laugh. “We know that quite well,” says the young lady’s husband. “We are big fans of his work.” 

“Thank you,” Xiao Zhan says. “Now, I feel that I should be a fan of Yibo’s work, too. You never told me that you could dance like that!” 

“You never asked,” Yibo says simply. 

Xiao Zhan blinks at that. It is true that their communications have been largely transactional, centering on the bed and breakfast and Yibo’s duties (and lapses). Now that he’s thinking about it, he doesn’t actually know anything personal about Yibo. Then again, isn’t it right to draw professional boundaries?

Yibo, as though reading his mind, says, “I don’t mind you knowing, Zhan-ge. I can dance one just for you right now.”

The guests applaud and Yibo launches into a freestyle dance that’s all pop, lock, smooth controlled movements. His entire body seems to come alive. Xiao Zhan is mesmerised. 

“You should have become an idol,” says the young lady, when Yibo finishes and bows. 

“You certainly could have,” Xiao Zhan agrees. Yibo has the talent and looks; he’s long and lean, unconventionally good-looking, a blend of youthful petulance and adult sultriness. They’d be all over him in the entertainment industry. “That was the most fantastic dancing I’ve ever seen, and you can bet that I’ve seen a lot! You would have been a great success, I’m sure of it.” 

“Thank you, Zhan-ge,” Yibo says, a little surprised and very pleased. 

Xiao Zhan nods at him and thinks secretly, but if you’d entered the entertainment scene, you wouldn’t be here, laughing and bright against a sunlit backdrop of mountains, dancing with so much raw passion, enjoying the simple, pure-hearted admiration of a few strangers that you’ll remember fondly for a long time. You’d end up like me, broken on the inside, searching for a new purpose in life just to keep going. 

Yibo tilts his head and looks thoughtfully at him. “Don’t worry, laoban,” he says. “I don’t want to be an idol. I’m happy right where I am.” 

“As your boss, I sure hope you are,” Xiao Zhan says mock sternly. “Can’t have my assistant manager running off to become an idol and leaving me high and dry.” 

The morning dissolves into laughter. It brings a warmth to everything that Xiao Zhan does that day. 

-

In his third month, Yibo passes probation and gets confirmed as a full-time official employee of Chen’s B&B. Xiao Zhan takes him out for a celebration at a nearby restaurant, where they sit for ages over a steaming hotpot comparing Xiao Zhan’s growing up years in Chongqing with Yibo’s youth in Beidahu, and get happily, recklessly drunk on several bottles of Tsingtao beer. Yibo is in no condition to ride his motorbike home after that so he stays over at Xiao Zhan’s apartment, snoring on the couch as Xiao Zhan wakes up five times during the night to piss and check that Yibo hasn’t succumbed to alcohol poisoning. It’s a very happy night.  

The following week, Yibo gets kicked out of his house. Or, as his dad puts it, “It’s time for you to be independent now that you have a good stable job.” 

It’s a very reasonable demand. Yibo can be independent. He’s twenty three years old, an able-bodied man, and he can fend for himself. Besides, he has a wonderful boss. 

He hadn’t known that Xiao Zhan was famous when he first met him for the recruitment interview. In fact, during their initial conversation, he’d wondered several times why such a strikingly handsome man wasn’t a public figure. Yibo has never taken an interest in any of the idols or actors or singers that the rest of the nation seems obsessed with. He doesn’t spend much time in front of a screen. Ever since he was a kid, he’s only ever wanted to go out and make full use of the great outdoors. 

It’s only after he asks around the local area about Chen’s B&B that he finds out about Xiao Zhan’s fame. When he searches up Xiao Zhan on Baidu, the results are stunning. Xiao Zhan had been an unprecedented sensation. He had been China’s top ranked actor for six consecutive years, and a regular feature in Forbes China Celebrity 100. He had endorsed over thirty brands over the course of his career, all of which reported high sales figures. He held the record of the best selling digital single ever in the history of Chinese music, beating out industry veterans. His fandom extended beyond China to the rest of the world, as far as Europe and Latin America. He seemed unstoppable, until a controversy - crazy to Yibo’s sense of logic - took him down and forced him into a yearlong hiatus. 

And now here he is, sequestered in a ring of mountains, working at a small bed and breakfast. 

“Don’t you miss what you had before?” Yibo asked him once. 

Xiao Zhan shrugged. “I’ve already been through the ‘before’. The ‘now’ is what I’m interested in.” 

Xiao Zhan is probably the best person that Yibo has ever met; genuinely kind, generous, encouraging, caring, practical. The type of person who makes you feel ten feet tall. A person whom you could entrust your life with. So, Yibo feels no compunction in telling him that he has been cut loose by his dad and needs accommodation. “I’m not asking for free accommodation,” he clarifies, “because that would be taking advantage and I’d never, ever, take advantage of you, laoban. But if you could spare me a room…”

“And give up the profits from that room?” Xiao Zhan questions. 

“I’ve been through the accounts,” Yibo points out. “We’ll still make money even with one room less.” 

“Who told you to go through the accounts?” 

“You’re always telling me to be proactive!” Yibo protests. “I just wanted to know the state of the business so I can suggest improvements. Besides, you gave me the password to your laptop, so it’s not like I was accessing it illegally or whatever.” 

“And your suggested improvement is that you’re moving in?”

“Look at it this way,” says Yibo. He can be very persuasive when he wants to be. “With me staying here, I’ll be available 24/7. And I’m not even asking for a pay raise.” 

“You can’t work 24/7, Yibo. Even if you were to stay here, you’d still need to take your day off. I wouldn’t expect you to be on-call all the time.” 

“For you, Zhan-ge, I would be on call whenever you wanted me,” Yibo says, with just the tiniest hint of a flirtatious smile. 

Xiao Zhan scowls at him. The scowl doesn’t last. “Room 7 on the second floor.”

“Oh, the queen room that overlooks the stream? My god, thank you Zhan-ge!”

“It’s not for free,” Xiao Zhan reminds him. 

“Of course, of course. Just take it out of my salary. I’ll move in tomorrow.” 

Yibo moves everything in his life into the room. Which means that it is a very overcrowded room. When he invites Xiao Zhan to come up and take a look, Xiao Zhan covers his eyes when he sees what the neat, scrupulously housekept Room 7 has become. “Is this what youth is like these days? Stuff just flung around everywhere?”

Yibo frowns at him. “I’m not a youth, Zhan-ge.” 

“You’re a 1997 baby,” Xiao Zhan says absently as he gingerly steps through the mess on the floor. 

“I was born in the same decade as you!”

“Why do you need so many helmets?” Xiao Zhan asks, poking at the row of helmets that Yibo had lined up on the dresser. “You only have one motorbike.” 

“Ah, yes, but with my bonus due in two months, I’m going to buy another one.” 

“Your bonus is in two months?” Xiao Zhan sputters. “You’ve only just gotten confirmed, what bonus are you talking about?” 

“The bonus doesn’t have to be very big, laoban,” says Yibo comfortingly. “And I’ll take you for a ride on my new motorbike. I know a really nice waterfall not too far away from here. We’ll take a day off, ride there, hike through the woods, and have a picnic in front of the waterfall, how’s that?”

Xiao Zhan pauses at that image. “That does sound nice. But I can’t imagine sitting on your motorbike for hours. If we go, we’ll take my car.” 

Yibo brightens up. “You’ve been working so hard, Zhan-ge. You haven’t taken a single day off since you started the business, and before that you were so stressed out by all those evil, no-life antis dissing you online. Since we’re approaching the off-peak season, take a day off and let me pamper you. I’ll get everything ready, you won’t have to do a thing.” 

“Who’s going to man the reception while both of us are out?”

“You’ll just have to hire another receptionist,” says Yibo. “You should, anyway. Look at how the business is growing. It’s time to expand our staff.” 

He reaches out and picks out one of the helmets - his favourite, actually, deep red with streaks of white lightning running through it. It fits very nicely over Xiao Zhan’s head and Yibo can’t help a quick thought of, god my boss is the hottest man I’ve ever seen. “Shall I put up the recruitment notice tomorrow, laoban?” 

“Alright, alright,” says Xiao Zhan, pulling the helmet off. “I’m leaving the whole process to you. I’ve had enough of recruitment to last me till the end of the year. Find someone good and offer him or her a fair remuneration. Remember to let me sign off before confirming anything, and keep a lookout for any applicant who sounds like a stalker fan.” 

Yibo flashes him a thumbs up. “Leave it with me, Zhan-ge. And feel free to drop by my room anytime you want, okay? I’ve prepared a spare key for you. It’s in the basket of keys next to your office door, labelled ‘For Zhan-ge’.” 

“Mm,” Xiao Zhan says distractedly as he makes for the door. Then, “Why on earth would I drop by? This is your private space. I don’t have any right to just turn up unannounced, like a spy.” 

“I don’t know. You could come by and watch movies with me. If you were too tired to make the trip back home, you could bunk in with me, the way you let me stay over at your apartment. If you needed to shower in the middle of the day, you could use my bathroom.” Yibo’s only half-joking. 

Xiao Zhan bites his lip. “You ridiculous kid,” he calls back before running down the staircase to the ground floor. 

That’s how Yibo moves in. 

-

It becomes a little world that they exist in, this bed and breakfast, and Yibo loves everyone and everything that inhabits it. 

He loves the auntie chef who cooks him his favourite century egg congee every morning and places it at the reception alongside a fresh red apple, “because children don’t eat healthily enough and these apples will at least give you some proper nutrition”. He loves the housekeeper, who will pass him gossip of the strange things they find in the rooms after guests check out (the engagement ring, still housed in its jewellery box, is probably the saddest. The male guest hadn’t wanted it back even after Yibo went to all pains to call him and offer to deliver it, for free, to wherever he was). He loves the part-time serving boy who manages their breakfast service in the morning and spends his afternoons in Jilin City studying Japanese cuisine. He loves how all of them stop by the back office regularly to share a joke and a laugh with Xiao Zhan, who never turns anyone away no matter how busy he is. 

He loves all the rooms, even the one with the perpetually creaky front door, and most especially his little cluttered room with its view of the stream. Xiao Zhan had revealed that this was the room he’d stayed in years ago when he needed some spiritual healing after being battered down by controversy, and just the thought of Zhan-ge sitting on the balcony painting the mountains makes Yibo happy. He’d wanted to see the painting, but Xiao Zhan said he’d discarded it along with various other things when he moved out of Beijing. “I wanted a fresh start,” he said. 

He loves the peaceful mountain road that they’re on, just an eight-minute walk from the town centre of shops and restaurants and a ten-minute drive to the bustle of the ski resort, but so quiet that it seems isolated from the rest of the world. They have a few neighbours; little houses scattered along the road mostly inhabited by friendly old folks, all of whom Yibo knows, and the small three-storey apartment building where Xiao Zhan lives. Here, as Xiao Zhan once said, “people can really think.”   

He loves the stream that glints in the sunlight, tripping along the pebbles on its rocky bottom, and the surrounding snowy mountain range, so dramatic under the moving clouds. Down in Beidahuzhen, Yibo lived in the shadow of the mountains. Up here, the mountains seem like friends. One rose-hued evening on his day-off, Xiao Zhan had been persuaded to drop by his room and they’d sat out on the balcony together, naming the mountains. “I know they already have official names, but so what?” Xiao Zhan said. “I think that mountain looks like a Xue Hua .” 

And then, of course, there’s Xiao Zhan, the thread that runs through everything. But there’s really nothing that Yibo has to say about Xiao Zhan. He’s in every nook and cranny, every quiet, thoughtful moment, every laugh, every problem, every story of this bed and breakfast of theirs, and he lights up every corner of Yibo’s life. 

-

Six months into Yibo’s employment, they receive a guest who makes him realise that there’s a whole other world out there that Xiao Zhan used to inhabit, as distant from their life in Beidahu as the moon. It’s a tall, good-looking, older man who strides in with all the assurance of one who’s perfectly in command of his universe. His name is Ayunga. He books one of their king rooms on the fourth floor for a week. 

Yu Bin checks him in. Yu Bin is their new receptionist, hired a month ago. He’s been fantastic so far, hardworking, conscientious, bubbly and friendly, a great addition to their little team. Yibo is very proud of his recruitment skills. And because Yu Bin smoothly handles the whole check-in process with Ayunga, Yibo, mooching around in the hotel lobby straightening magazines and refilling the water dispensers, has a full unobstructed view of Xiao Zhan barrelling out of the back office and throwing himself into Ayunga’s arms in a way that Zhan-ge has never hugged anyone before, at least not to Yibo’s knowledge. 

“Zhanzhan!” Ayunga greets. “Long time no see! I must take a proper look at you.” 

He pulls Xiao Zhan away and holds him at arm’s length, raking eyes all over him. Xiao Zhan laughs and blushes and Yibo suddenly wants to kill something. “Gazi-ge, you’re making me embarrassed.” 

“Embarrassed! You look good, Zhanzhan. I see you’ve put on some weight.” 

“All this sedentary living and organic food… the next time you see me, I’ll be plump.” 

“And wouldn’t I like to see that,” Ayunga says fervently. “You know how worried I was about you. But you made your decision and as it turns out, it was the right one. Come, are you showing me to my room?” 

“We don’t typically escort guests to their rooms, but for you I’ll make an exception,” Xiao Zhan laughs, taking hold of Ayunga’s suitcase. They walk off to the lift together, and when Xiao Zhan doesn’t reappear ten minutes later, Yibo considers going up and calling Xiao Zhan out on the pretext of a problem in the kitchen. 

Yu Bin, luckily, restrains him. “You can’t just interrupt him, Yibo. He’s obviously so happy to see his friend again.” 

“But is it just a friend?” Yibo says unhappily, sitting down at the reception desk. “And who is this Ayunga anyway?” 

Yu Bin shoots him an astonished look. “He’s one of the leading musical theatre actors in China. He’s been on lots of shows. Very popular. He was actually on a few shows with Xiao-laoban during his celebrity days. That’s probably how they met.” 

“Is he married? Or at least dating?” 

They spend the next half hour on Baidu and Weibo confirming that Ayunga is not, in fact, married or officially dating anyone. 

“He looks like a good match for laoban,” says Yu Bin cautiously. 

“Whose side are you on?!”

“I’m on the side of whoever makes laoban happy!”

“ I could make him happier than anyone else in this wide world,” says Yibo, “if only he would stop thinking of me as a child.” 

Xiao Zhan doesn’t re-emerge until five p.m., not that Yibo is keeping track. He looks flushed and happy, and Yibo tries very hard not to examine if his clothes are worn the exact same way he’d been wearing them when he went up with Ayunga. He goes straight into the back office and works uninterrupted until Yibo knocks on the door at seven. 

“Zhan-ge, do you have dinner plans tonight? I was thinking we could check out the new la mian restaurant that opened up near Club Med. The head chef is apparently from Beijing. It’s been getting good reviews.” 

“Oh, Yibo, I’d like to,” Xiao Zhan says, looking up regretfully. “But I’ll be having dinner with Gazi-ge tonight…and tomorrow night, too. We have a lot to catch up on. Let’s go to the la mian place next week after he’s gone, okay?” 

“Okay,” says Yibo, subdued. 

Xiao Zhan looks sharply at him. “Are you okay?” 

“Zhan-ge, are you...very close to Ayunga?” 

“Mm.” Xiao Zhan sits back. “He’s one of my true friends. They aren’t easy to come by in the entertainment industry. When shit hit the fan, he stood by me and supported me. He’d send me encouraging texts almost every day. He wanted to support me publicly, but I told him not to, in case he got dragged into the mess as well. He was one of my sources of strength.” 

“Is he...is he seeing anyone?” 

Xiao Zhan looks startled. “Since when were you interested in entertainment gossip?” 

“I’m not…”

“I can’t say anything, Yibo.” Xiao Zhan turns back to his laptop. “Not right now, anyway. But maybe you’ll find out soon enough.” 

His cheeks dimple into a smile, and Yibo flees.

-

Xiao Zhan and Ayunga spend a lot of time together over the next three days. They take trips to Jilin City every day in Xiao Zhan’s old Honda. They have dinner every evening at various restaurants around town, and drinks in Ayunga’s room after. Xiao Zhan even takes a few hours off to go skiing with Ayunga, days before the ski season closes. Yibo is badly upset by that. Xiao Zhan had made a promise to go skiing with him , some day. And now he’s off having fun with his beloved friend, without a second thought spared for Yibo sitting at the reception breaking his heart over missed promises. 

Ayunga is stupidly charming and intelligent. On the third day, Xiao Zhan joins him for breakfast in the cafe and, seeing Yibo’s miserable face watching them when he comes in to check on the buffet, asks Yibo to sit with them. 

“Wang Yibo,” Ayunga repeats after they’re introduced. “It’s a good name. Where are you from?” 

“Beidahuzhen,” Yibo mutters. 

“You’ve been in Jilin all your life? Not lived anywhere else?” 

“No.” 

“That’s a bit of a pity,” Ayunga says. “Would you be interested in trying out life in, say, Beijing or Shanghai or Shenzhen? There are lots of job opportunities, especially in the hospitality sector if that’s what you’re keen on.” 

“Don’t you go and entice my best employee away, Gazi-ge,” says Xiao Zhan, laughing. 

“Now, now,” says Ayunga reprovingly. “The tourism sector is booming. Hotels need good people and they’re willing to pay and train. I met my good friend Ah Peng last month - do you remember him? The one who heads up rooms at the Grand Kempinski in Shanghai? He was talking about how bookings have been on the uprise for the past year.” 

“Shanghai, definitely,” says Xiao Zhan. “A large part of it is due to business travel, I presume.” 

“That’s right,” says Ayunga. “More regional HQs are being shifted to Shanghai every year, and with that, you get your big business conventions and summits.” 

“I don’t want to go to Shanghai,” Yibo intervenes. “I’m happy here, with Zhan-ge.” 

Ayunga looks at him with a sort of curiosity that Yibo can’t place. “Zhan-ge treating you right, Yibo?”

“Yes,” says Yibo boldly. “I’d be willing to spend my life here with him, without going anywhere else.” 

“There are a lot of opportunities out there, Yibo,” Xiao Zhan protests. “You can’t spend your whole life in this little place. It’ll be a waste.” 

“Ah,” says Ayunga, putting a hand on Xiao Zhan’s arm, which Yibo absolutely hates the sight of. “But remember, Zhanzhan, if you find a little bit of happiness, it’s worth holding on to. Why let go of it in pursuit of something that you don’t necessarily want, simply because you don’t want your life to be a waste?” 

“Yibo has so much passion and talent. You should see the way he dances. He can repair any type of motorcycle. He’ll be a success anywhere he goes.” 

“But if what he wants is to stay here with you, who’s to stop him?” Ayunga says. “Isn’t that right, Yibo?”

“Yes,” says Yibo, eyes still fixed on Ayunga’s hand resting on Xiao Zhan’s very fair, very smooth arm. 

Ayunga smirks and takes his hand away. 

The fact is, they would be a good couple. Yibo can see it himself. Even taking their looks, their ages and very compatible heights out of the equation, Ayunga and Xiao Zhan are on the same wavelength. They can be calm and serious together, and they can be laughing and silly. They talk about things that Yibo knows are in the newspapers that he never bothers to open. They have a shared history. Ayunga is stable, put together, mature and accomplished - all the things that Yibo is not. If Xiao Zhan was to get together with Ayunga, he would live in comfort. He wouldn’t have to spend gruelling twelve-hour days at the bed and breakfast, serving guests and keeping track of bedsheets. He would travel the world with Ayunga, meeting all sorts of famous and interesting people; he would attend all of Ayunga’s musicals, and hold smart conversations with other like-minded artists; he would have the time to devote himself to his art, and probably even hold an exhibition or two. 

Yibo wants Xiao Zhan to be happy, as happy as he can possibly be. Ayunga would make Xiao Zhan happy. 

But Yibo can’t shake off the conviction that he could make Xiao Zhan even happier than Ayunga could, in a far simpler way. There’s no basis to this conviction, other than his belief that Xiao Zhan is, at heart, a person of simple, ordinary daily life pleasures. And Yibo would be more than willing to give him that. 

After all, there’s nowhere else that he wants to be and nothing else that he wants to do than to wake up every morning in this quiet, snowy town, make Xiao Zhan his regular latte on the coffee machine and sit with him to go through their guest list for the day, instruct the cook on what to prepare for Xiao Zhan’s lunch and buy him snacks as he taps away at his laptop in the long afternoons, amuse Xiao Zhan with little gifts of assembled lego sets and bring him out for dinner at his favourite eatery in town, a family-run restaurant that dishes up spicy Sichuan cuisine. 

Doesn’t that match up to travelling the world and hobnobbing with famous folks in high-class galleries?

Yibo tells himself stubbornly that it does. 

When he reports for work the next day, he is determined to tell Xiao Zhan so. And is completely thrown off when he enters the back office to see Xiao Zhan fiddling with the audio system, changing their perfunctory background ‘spa music’ (as Yu Bin terms it) to a very romantic sounding, musical-type song. 

“Zhan-ge, what are you doing?”

“Ah, Yibo,” says Xiao Zhan, raising an excited face to him. “Don’t worry, it’ll only play for a short while.”

“What is it?”

“‘Danse, mon Esmeralda’ from the musical, Notre-dame de Paris,” says Xiao Zhan. “They’ll be coming in any time now.” 

“Who is coming?” 

“Zheng Yunlong,” says Xiao Zhan. “Ayunga’s boyfriend.” 

Yibo must have sputtered a bit, because Xiao Zhan blinks rapidly. “Gazi-ge said it was okay for me to tell you. This is a sort of surprise he’s been planning for Yunlong-ge for a while now. I was up last night helping him to prepare. He’s proposing.” 

“Ayunga...is proposing…?” Yibo can’t quite formulate his words. 

“Yes. It’s top secret, Yibo, so you can’t say a word to anyone, not even to your family. The public doesn’t know that they’ve been officially a couple for years. It’s been...very sad, really, how they’ve had to hide it, but Gazi-ge is going to take the plunge and, if Yunlong agrees, they’ll get married in Taiwan. Isn’t that amazing?” 

“Um,” says Yibo, because his brain hasn’t rebooted just yet. “So you and Ayunga…aren’t interested in each other?” 

Xiao Zhan stares at him. “Me and Ayunga? You’ve been thinking that Ayunga is interested in me ?” 

“You’ve been together a lot,” says Yibo feebly. 

“Yes, because he specially came to visit me after not seeing me for two years,” says Xiao Zhan very slowly and clearly. “We’ve been catching up and making preparations for his proposal to Yunlong. I can’t tell you what it is, because it’s strictly between the two of them. But I can assure you, Yibo, that there is nothing romantic whatsoever between Gazi and I. I’ve even double-dated with him and Yunlong before, for god’s sake. They’re both my dearest friends.” 

Yibo swallows hard. “I just thought. You know. I thought you liked being with him.” 

“I do,” says Xiao Zhan. “But that’s all it is. I’m looking forward to attending their wedding one day. Maybe you can be there, too.” 

That makes Yibo’s heart bump hard in his chest and for a moment he just smiles stupidly at Xiao Zhan. Xiao Zhan smiles back. They stay there for a beat, smiling at each other, until Yu Bin pokes his head in. His face is flushed with excitement. “Guys! Guess who just walked in! Ayunga and his best friend from the theatre, Zheng Yunlong!”

“Oh!” Xiao Zhan snaps out of their little trance. “Have they gone up?” 

“Yes, they’ve taken the lift up.” 

“It’ll be happening soon, then.” Xiao Zhan smiles happily and Yibo can’t take his eyes away from him. “This is a great day, guys. Yibo, are you doing anything tonight?”

“No, I’m not.” 

“I’m having dinner with Ayunga and Yunlong. Would you like to come?” 

Yibo has the presence of mind to raise an eyebrow. “Like a double-date, Zhan-ge?” 

Xiao Zhan’s cheek dimples, irresistibly. Yibo has a mad, overwhelming desire to press a finger into that dimple, but he holds back. They’re trembling on the edge of something new, and he doesn’t want to make any move that might frighten Xiao Zhan away. 

“Yes, Yibo,” says Xiao Zhan at last, with a sweetness that makes his heart clench. “If that’s what you want.” 

 -

Yibo settles on a deep green pullover and a pair of skinny black jeans. He shouldn’t dress up too much since it’s a casual dinner, but at the same time he wants to look worthy of Zhan-ge. It’s very pressuring when you’re trying to court one of the most beautiful and desired men in China. Yibo spends a whole twenty minutes debating whether to add a silver chain to the mix, and eventually throws it on in a panic when he realises that he’s going to be late. 

Xiao Zhan is at the lobby when he comes down, leaning over the reception desk talking to Yu Bin. He’s in a long brown trench coat that makes him look impossibly tall, and when he turns a brilliant smile to Yibo in greeting, Yibo actually feels faint. Is it possible that this is the man whom he’s maybe possibly in love with, and who could maybe possibly become his? 

Damn right , a thought creeps possessively in his head. I’m going to fight tooth and nail for him. Nobody is going to have a chance with Zhan-ge while I’m around.

Yu Bin lets out a whistle. “God, Yibo, you look awesome!” 

“I have to look pretty for Zhan-ge,” Yibo says.

“You’re always pretty, Yibo,” says Xiao Zhan, his voice warm and intimate. “But I must say, tonight you do look stunning.” 

He holds out his arm and Yibo takes it, suddenly feeling unaccountably shy. They’re really doing this. They’re going right out in the open like a real couple, with no boundaries of boss and employee hindering them. He’s so happy that he’s almost afraid. 

“Have a good time!” Yu Bin says, waving. “I’ll take care of everything, laoban! Don’t worry!” 

“Wait,” Xiao Zhan says suddenly, stopping and turning back. “I forgot to tell you - the uncles in Room 20 were asking for ice to be brought up to their room after dinner. Take care of that, will you?” 

“You told me that at 3 p.m, laoban,” says Yu Bin. “I wrote it down. Look, here’s my sticky note.”

“Oh god,” says Yibo impatiently, hauling Xiao Zhan bodily out of the lobby. “You never forget anything, Zhan-ge, so stop worrying and come out with me already.” 

Xiao Zhan is laughing so hard that there are tears in his eyes when they head towards his Honda for the drive to town. 

-

The dinner passes by surprisingly well. Yibo had expected some first-time awkwardness, but Ayunga and Zheng Yunlong are glowing with happiness and only too willing to fill any gaps in the conversation with chit chat, and Xiao Zhan is the most relaxed that he’s been in a long time. Yunlong hugs him tightly the moment he and Yibo approach their table. 

“Thank you so much, Zhanzhan,” he says, voice tight with emotion. “Gazi told me that you were the one who drew all those portraits of us through the years…every single one was beautiful . I’ll have them framed up at home.” 

“Did you like the last one?” Xiao Zhan asks eagerly. “The conceptualisation for that one came from Gazi-ge. All I did was draw it.”  

“He loved it,” Ayunga says. “He just thinks that we should have been kissing on stage instead of merely hand-in-hand, and I said, subtle romance is very underrated.”  

“There’s nothing like standing hand-in-hand in front of an audience,” Xiao Zhan agrees. “Yunlong, meet Yibo.”

“Ah, Yibo,” says Yunlong interestedly. “You’re Zhanzhan’s assistant manager, right? I’ve heard a lot about you...from Gazi, of course.” 

Yibo takes a peek at Xiao Zhan and is gratified to see that the tips of his ears are slightly pink. “Yes,” he says, smiling mischievously. “I’m Zhan-ge’s Yibo.” 

Xiao Zhan makes a little strangled sound. It’s unbearably cute. 

Ayunga plunges into conversation about his and Yunlong’s plans for the future. They have a musical to rehearse and perform once they get back to Beijing, and then Ayunga will be joining a new season of Super Vocal as a judge. After that - here they exchange a deep, loving look - they’ll be heading to Taiwan to register their marriage. “Just a small one, not fancy,” says Yunlong. “Heaven forbid we have any reporters catching wind of it. Family and close friends only, and we’re hoping that will include you, Zhanzhan.” 

“Of course ,” says Xiao Zhan warmly. “It doesn’t matter when you hold it, I’ll be there.” 

Ayunga glances at Yibo with a rapid blink. If Yibo didn’t know better, he would’ve thought it was a wink. “You’re invited too, Yibo. It could be a nice little getaway for you and Ah Zhan - a few days’ holiday in Taiwan, hm? There’s lots of great stuff to do there. You could even go for a ride from the north to the south.” 

“And how am I supposed to be a part of that?” Xiao Zhan says. “I only just learned how to ride a bicycle .” 

“I’ve told you before to take your license, Zhan-ge,” says Yibo distractedly. He’s too busy with the sudden, delightful fantasy of riding with Xiao Zhan from the northern tip of Taiwan to the south, side by side through the towns and cities and wide open fields. They’ll drive up to the lighthouses and mountainside villages, through the valleys and down to the shore to watch the sunset come in. And they’ll have to eat beef noodles and pork chop rice and all manner of street snacks and desserts, of course. Yibo would feed him from his hand. 

When he returns to the conversation, Xiao Zhan is musing on the possibility of opening a branch of Chen’s B&B in Taiwan. “There’d be demand for it, wouldn’t you say? Lots of the tourism has been concentrated on Taipei and Gaoxiong, but there’s increasing interest for Taizhong, Tainan…” 

“I can imagine that you’ll do well in the scenic areas,” says Yunlong. 

“I’ll get Yibo to go over there, scope it out,” says Xiao Zhan, nudging Yibo affectionately. “He can be my overseas branch manager.” 

“What?” Yibo says. “You and I, in two different countries? Send Yu Bin instead.” 

“It would be a promotion, Wang Yibo!”

“I don’t care,” says Yibo stubbornly, tilting his head to ensure that Xiao Zhan’s looking directly at him. “You seem to like pushing me away, Zhan-ge, and I’m not standing for it. I’m staying right where you are. If you want me to go to Taiwan, you’ll have to come along with me.” 

Ayunga and Yunlong are watching them with a little too much vested interest. Xiao Zhan clears his throat and looks away. “Hm,” he says. “I guess I’ll have to reconsider my plans for expansion.” 

Their knees brush under the table. It’s not a coincidence. A little electric shock tingles down Yibo’s spine. 

He becomes hyper-aware of Xiao Zhan after that. The exact placement of his hands. The length of his legs. The proximity of his knees. When Xiao Zhan casually leans into his space, the very air between them feels charged. Caressed. He’s not sure if he manages to tear his eyes away from Xiao Zhan’s face at all during the dinner, but he’s not particularly ashamed of staring. Xiao Zhan has a breathtakingly beautiful side profile; liquid eyes that seem to capture all the light in the room and shine it back at you, a nose that could have been carved by a god, lips that fold over softly. Yibo would very happily pen a sonnet for him.

After dinner, they pile into Xiao Zhan’s Honda for the short drive back. The roads are silent and dark, and when they turn into their lane, the lights of the bed and breakfast shine out at them like a homing beacon. An early spring breeze brushes against their cheeks when they step out of the warm car, making them yelp. It’s past ten so Yu Bin has left the night light on in the reception and locked the entrance door. Ayunga, Yunlong and Xiao Zhan stand shivering as Yibo fumbles to unlock it. 

“Come on , Yibo,” says Xiao Zhan, his breath coming out in puffs. “You’re the one who lives here. You should be intimately familiar with that door by now.” 

“It’s open, it’s open,” says Yibo, pulling it open with a little more force than necessary. It creaks ominously. 

“Try not to pull it off the hinges, Yibo,” says Ayunga, laughing. “Thanks for a great night, guys. You may not see Yunlong and I tomorrow. No housekeeping needed. But I promise we’ll be down the day after to check out. Good night, Zhanzhan.” 

Xiao Zhan returns their hugs and stands with Yibo in the lobby, watching them catch hold of each other’s hands as they enter the lift. Yibo feels the weight of all the lives and loves played out in this little bed and breakfast, all the stories that have been forged. A place can hold so many memories within its walls. Until now, he has been an observer. Perhaps it’s time for him to step out and forge a story of his own. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have what they have? One day?” 

“Yes,” says Xiao Zhan. It looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. “Well, I guess I’ll be getting home now. I’ll lock the door on my way out. Good night, Yibo.” 

“Wait,” says Yibo. His heart is crashing crazily in his chest, but it’s now or never. The magic of the night hasn’t ended yet. “Come up with me, Zhan-ge.” 

Xiao Zhan’s eyes widen, startled. “Yibo…”

“I mean it,” Yibo says. He steps closer, places his hands on the lapels of Xiao Zhan’s trench coat. “Stay with me tonight.” 

He kisses Xiao Zhan before courage can fail him. Xiao Zhan’s lips are impossibly soft, warm, intoxicating. He could do this forever. He could do this for the rest of his life. “Stay with me,” he says again, almost like a plea, looking into Xiao Zhan’s bottomless eyes. 

And so Xiao Zhan does. 

-

The next morning, Yibo is down at the reception by six-thirty. He switches on the lights, powers up the computer, unlocks the front door, helps to set up the chairs and tables in the breakfast cafe, unties the morning newspapers and arranges them neatly on the rack, changes the water in the dispensers. The lobby is bathed in sleepy yellow morning light. 

He’s sitting at the reception desk, staring intently into blank space, when Yu Bin arrives at seven-thirty, flushed with exercise from pedalling up the road. He slips off his helmet, stows it under the desk and plops down beside Yibo. The questions are practically emanating from him. “So…” he starts. 

“Mm,” Yibo says. 

“Did you…” 

“Mm.” 

“You…and laoban…”

“Try asking a full question, Yu Bin.” 

“Did anything happen last night?” Yu Bin asks, his voice hushed and excited. 

“Yes,” says Yibo.

Yu Bin’s eyes sparkle. “It was...good?” 

Was it good? Yibo doesn’t know. How does he put something like that into words? Memories of last night have been replaying in his head since he woke up at five, nestled in the warmth of Xiao Zhan’s arms, head against his chest. He has been trying to catalogue them, to arrange them into a linear narrative so that he doesn’t forget a single moment, but he hasn’t found a word that can adequately describe what last night was. Every nerve in him seems to be on edge; his heart wants to explode out of his chest. 

“It was good,” he settles, at last. 

Yu Bin lets out a breath and pats his knee. “I’m so happy for you,” he says sincerely. “I knew from the very first moment I saw the two of you together that you were meant for each other. Laoban never laughs with anyone the way he laughs with you.” 

They’d laughed last night, yes, lying sweaty and sated against each other, sticky come cooling on their skin. Yibo’s mouth had been filled with the taste of Xiao Zhan, saturated with it, and he’d said, Zhan-ge, I’m addicted now. I’ll need to taste you every day after this, and Xiao Zhan had replied, I like a man with ambition , and they’d laughed and laughed, muffling the sound into each other’s necks as though afraid that someone would hear. Yibo clears his throat. “He better not laugh with anyone the way he does with me,” he says, making an effort to keep his tone light. “He’s allowed to find other people funny, but he has to find me the funniest .” 

“You couldn’t have snagged a better man,” says Yu Bin, half-enviously. 

“No, I couldn’t have,” Yibo agrees. Even putting his sterling personality aside, Xiao Zhan standing between his knees, slowly stripping clothes from his body, had been a revelation. Nicely toned chest, a waist that Yibo could circle with his hands, narrow hips, endless legs. And a surprisingly fuzzy happy trail that led down to the most perfect cock that Yibo has ever seen. He hopes very much that some time in the near future, he can persuade Xiao Zhan to slide that cock into him. He’ll be willing to sit on it for any amount of time that Xiao Zhan wants. But last night, having it in his hands and then in his greedy mouth, had been more than enough. Yibo can remember, in vivid clarity, every lovely sound that he’d wrung from Xiao Zhan’s throat. 

Yu Bin’s laughing at him. “Yibo da-ge, are you sure you’re going to be able to function today? You can take the morning off if you want, you know. I’m here.” 

Yibo starts to answer, but just then the door to the staircase opens and Xiao Zhan walks out, dressed in one of Yibo’s pullovers. It makes sense. They’d pretty much fallen into bed together without considering if Xiao Zhan had a change of clothes with him; he must have rooted through Yibo’s wardrobe to find something that fit. The thought of Xiao Zhan fingering through his clothes makes something warm bloom in his chest. They can do things like that, now. They belong to each other now. 

“Morning, laoban,” says Yu Bin cheerily. 

“Everything in order?” Xiao Zhan says, stopping in front of them. “How many check-outs and check-ins do we have today?” 

“Four check-outs, six check-ins,” says Yibo automatically. Even deep in the throes of new love, his head snaps into action when called upon. “Ski season closes day after tomorrow; people are probably hoping for a last chance at the slopes.” 

“More than likely,” says Xiao Zhan. He looks soft and glowing, well-rested, and Yibo has to resist the urge to reach out and touch him. “We’ll have some downtime from next week until October. Occupancy rates for May and June are reasonable, but I believe there’re a few days in July that we haven’t received any bookings for yet. I might close the place for a couple of days, give everyone some time off.” 

“You’re the best,” Yu Bin says, giving him a thumbs up. 

“But people still like coming here even without the skiing,” says Yibo. “It’s cooler in the mountains than in the crowded cities.” 

“Ah,” says Xiao Zhan, his lips quirking up. “My assistant manager doesn’t approve of closing.”

“Only if we can afford it, Zhan-ge,” says Yibo. 

Xiao Zhan shakes his head laughingly and heads towards the back office. Yibo doesn’t wait for a cue. He slips right in after him and closes the door. 

“Finally,” he breathes, slipping his arms around Xiao Zhan’s shoulders and pressing kisses along his neck. “I’ve been waiting to do this.” 

“It’s only been two hours,” says Xiao Zhan in amusement, pulling him down onto his lap. 

“And that doesn’t seem like a long time to you?” 

The corners of Xiao Zhan’s mouth can’t help turning up, and Yibo leans forward to kiss both sides. “Alright, I surrender,” Xiao Zhan says, hand sliding over Yibo’s back. “It was impossibly long.” 

Yibo catches hold of his hand and moves it to rest on his cock, which is rapidly hardening under the pressure of Xiao Zhan’s kisses. “Tell me what you did this morning after I left.” 

“Well,” says Xiao Zhan, considering, “You didn’t shut the door very quietly. It woke me up.” 

“Uh,” says Yibo, a little thrown. 

“So I got up to go to the loo, and stepped on one of your unfinished lego - and it hurt like a bitch , Yibo, fucking hell, stop leaving your things all over the floor…”

“Zhan-ge!”

“Then I got back into bed and thought about you. Jerked off. Happy now?” 

“Much better than stepping on lego,” Yibo agrees. “Was it good? The jerking off? What precisely did you think about?” 

“Do you need that much detail?” 

“I want all the details.” 

“If you must ,” says Xiao Zhan, massaging Yibo firmly through his pants, “I thought about this, right here. I know I said it last night, but who knew you were packing that much in there? And I thought about the rest of you, of course. You’re beautiful, Yibo. You really are.” 

“Mmm,” Yibo hums happily, burying his head in Xiao Zhan’s hair as his entire body tenses with the anticipation of coming. 

Xiao Zhan grins and leans forward to lick a stripe down his throat, sucking gently at his Adam's apple. “Also,” he adds with studied nonchalance, “I’m wearing your underwear.” 

“Fuck, Zhan-ge,” Yibo gasps, gripping Xiao Zhan’s arm so tightly that his knuckles turn white. They give up talking then, Xiao Zhan unzipping his pants and pulling him out to stroke hard and purposefully, and Yibo lets out a little cry as he comes barely a couple of minutes later.

He’s trembling after, Xiao Zhan holding him tight and sucking a little mark into his exposed neck. Yibo breathes in deeply and expels it with a weak laugh. “You’re an absolute dream come true.” 

“So are you, for me,” says Xiao Zhan. “You’ve been driving me out of my mind for months now, not that you noticed. Doing your little seductive dances for guests during breakfast service, dazzling everyone with your smiles, flirting so outrageously with me...do you have any idea how many times I wanted to grab you and kiss you senseless? I was so afraid of making a move towards you in case it became workplace harassment.” 

“Mm,” says Yibo, eyes still closed. “You couldn’t harass anyone even if you tried. You’re way too good for that.” 

“Gazi noticed it, though. He teased me the whole time I was with him, working on the drawings of him and Yunlong.” 

“And there I was, sulking in the reception, thinking you were in love with him.” Yibo shakes his head at the foolishness of man, and forces himself to get up from Xiao Zhan’s lap. “Alright, Zhan-ge. I’ll need to clean up and be a responsible employee now.”

Xiao Zhan presses his hands on Yibo’s hips and kisses his softening cock before Yibo tucks himself back in. “I’ll see you later, baby.” 

Yibo swoons. He can’t help it. “Not much later, Zhan-ge, if I can help it.” 

“Off with you,” Xiao Zhan says. “You insatiable creature.” 

“I can’t be satiated as long as you’re around,” Yibo quips, and leaves the back office feeling like he’s walking on clouds. 

In fact, his legs feel so wobbly that he does stumble on his way to the lift. He’s grateful that Yu Bin merely raises an eyebrow. 

-

Nothing much changes about their daily routine, really, except that every break, lunchtime, and off-work hour is now spent with Xiao Zhan. It becomes their new normal so quickly that within a month, Yibo can’t remember what life used to be. 

Surely, he has always spent his breaks and lunchtimes in the back office with Xiao Zhan, sitting with one leg slung over his lap, cracking terrible puns over their food and stealing so many kisses that Xiao Zhan’s lips are red and swollen when Yibo is done with him. Surely, they’ve always played rock paper scissors to decide whose residence will be theirs for the night; Xiao Zhan makes a strong case for his own apartment, pointing out the space and lack of lego on the floor, but sometimes Yibo wins. It’s simply easier and faster to run up the stairs to the second floor and fall into each other’s arms than to suffer the five-minute walk to Xiao Zhan’s apartment after a whole day of maintaining professional distance. 

When they do end up in Xiao Zhan’s apartment, Yibo spends his evenings admiring Xiao Zhan in the kitchen, competently chopping ingredients, sniffing spices and handling the wok with such finesse that it gives Yibo ideas about other things that those hands could be used for. Xiao Zhan hates how he stinks of garlic and oil after cooking and insists on showering before they embark on the physical aspect of the night, even though Yibo argues that he really could care less what Xiao Zhan smells like, and isn’t it unnecessary to shower when they’ll just be messing each other up in no time? But no, Xiao Zhan is adamant about smelling good if they’re going to have sex. Yibo becomes very familiar with the scent of his shampoo. 

And as for the sex - Yibo is convinced that they had been made with each other in mind. There is nothing about Xiao Zhan that is remotely off-putting to him. Every part of his being, from the way he was constructed to the way he moves, is so highly erotic that he starts to feel conditioned in the best possible way. If Xiao Zhan smiles, his heart quivers. If Xiao Zhan purses his lips, his fingers ache to push into his mouth. If his collar so much as slips off his shoulder while he’s cooking or walking or simply huddling on the couch watching a movie, everything in Yibo reaches out to touch the exposed skin. If Xiao Zhan shows signs of arousal, adjusting himself in his pants or palming his cock, Yibo’s mouth starts watering in anticipation.

It’s dreadful, really. He’s so whipped. 

“I can think of one thing that you can’t possibly like about me,” Xiao Zhan says when Yibo confides in him about his reactions to Xiao Zhan’s most infinitesimal movements. 

“Try me,” Yibo says, instantly challenged. 

Xiao Zhan clears his throat a little. “My sweating.”

“What?” 

“My sweating .” 

“Why on earth would I dislike your sweat?” 

“It gets everywhere.” Xiao Zhan’s not really meeting his eyes. “I try to stay as dry as I can, but I’ve always been like this - I sweat way too easily.” 

“God, Zhan-ge,” says Yibo, astonished. “Is that why you always keep a towel on hand? I thought you just really hated the feeling of come but...has it actually been about the sweat?” 

“I don’t want it to get on you,” says Xiao Zhan defensively. 

“Zhan-ge.” Yibo clasps both of his hands. “I’m going to say this loudly and clearly. I like your sweat. I like it on me. I like the way it tastes. I like to see it rolling down your forehead, over your neck and throat and collarbone, and coated all over your chest. Please do not feel the need to wipe it off. I mean every word.” 

He punctuates the end of every sentence with kisses on all over Xiao Zhan’s face, his eyes and nose and lips, and Xiao Zhan sighs. “Yibo?” 

“Mm?” 

“I want to suck you off, baby.” 

“As you wish, Zhan-ge,” Yibo says, pulling off his track pants and spreading his knees apart. His cock juts out against his belly, flushed and mostly hard, and Xiao Zhan kneels between his legs, grips the base and pokes his tongue out to tease the head with little licks. His mouth is utterly sinful, like the rest of him. When a droplet of perspiration forms on his forehead as he hollows his cheeks around Yibo’s cock, Yibo catches it on his finger and makes sure Xiao Zhan watches him licking it off. No shame. Xiao Zhan’s pupils are blown wide, worshipping him, and in the next moment, he takes him down his throat with a surprising lack of gag reflex. When Yibo climaxes, it feels like he comes forever.  

Later, as they lie curled up in bed together with Xiao Zhan sleepily fondling his ass, Yibo says, “Are you happy, Zhan-ge?” 

Xiao Zhan opens his eyes to peer at him. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean…” Yibo waves a hand in the air. “All of this. Being here with me...in this little place...after everything that you used to have. Does it make you happy?” 

Xiao Zhan is quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on Yibo’s skin. “What I had before was a lie,” he says at last. “The dream collapsed. I have you now, and my own little business that means so much to me. This is reality. It’s better than any dream.”

The sincerity in his voice settles warmly over Yibo’s heart and silences the niggling doubts that Xiao Zhan will get the same amount of satisfaction as Yibo out of this quiet, uneventful life that they lead. After being at the very top, being adulated and adored, rubbing shoulders with the most famous people in their country, can Xiao Zhan really be happy here in the long-term? Yibo chooses to believe that he will. He snuggles closer. “Can we stay in and fuck all day on my birthday? And can you make your special crawfish dish for me?” 

“Of course. Anything you want.” 

“Alright,” Yibo murmurs. “It’s a date, then…” 

He falls asleep with Xiao Zhan’s arms wrapped around him. 

-

Xiao Zhan takes a ten-day break in late August, their lowest occupancy month, to visit Chongqing and Shanghai. He hasn’t seen his family in more than a year, he says, and he should really go back to update his parents on what he’s been doing in Beidahu. He has friends in Shanghai too, whom he wants to catch up with. Yibo, lying mostly naked by the window trying to catch as much breeze as he can, agrees without thinking too much about it. 

“I’ll leave everything in your hands,” says Xiao Zhan from the dining table. They’ve mutually agreed to keep at least one metre away from each other during the high heat of the afternoon. 

“Mm. Leave it all to me,” Yibo says. 

Their libidos come out of hibernation when the weather cools down in the evening. They have sex on the rug by the windows, Yibo balls deep in Xiao Zhan’s body pounding tight and fast, unwilling to pull out after he comes until Xiao Zhan wriggles and makes a little noise of complaint. The heat makes Xiao Zhan sleepy and lazy, a blob stretched out motionless on the floor because it’s cooler than the bed, and so he is disinclined to go again a short while later when Yibo slides his hardening cock hopefully over his entrance.

“How can you be this horny when it’s so hot?” Xiao Zhan moans, rubbing his face into a cushion. “I don’t even think I want to have sex again until autumn.” 

“It’s a good thing you’re going on a long break then, you’ll be all nice and cool to fuck when you come back,” Yibo says distractedly. “But you’re not just going to leave me hanging like this now, are you? It’s your fault that I’m perpetually horny.” 

Xiao Zhan reaches for his portable fan and positions it right in front of his face. “Do whatever you want,” he yawns, “just don’t put it inside me.” 

“How about between your thighs?” Yibo cajoles.

“How about you rub it out in the toilet?”

“Zhan-ge, you’re lying naked in front of me and you want me to rub it out by myself in the toilet ?” 

Yibo gets his way eventually, because Xiao Zhan is all bark and next to no bite, and is in actuality more interested in the proceedings than he pretends. His thighs are clamped a little more obligingly than they need to be, and his stuttered gasps, breathless with arousal, are very gratifying. Yibo, with his second orgasm still humming pleasantly through his veins, gives Xiao Zhan’s traitorous cock a nice handjob after and is benevolent enough not to comment on it. Give and take, as Xiao Zhan says. 

The first few days without him are strange and empty. Everyone seems rather downbeat without their boss to liven things up. Yu Bin languishes at the reception, drawing terrible-looking stick figures on a rough scrap of paper. Even the serving boy tops up the juices and refills the trays of food with a listless air. Yibo esconces himself in the back office, huddling in Xiao Zhan’s chair and imagining that he’s on his lap instead. At night after their daily video call that only serves to make him miss Xiao Zhan more, he tosses and turns repeatedly in Xiao Zhan’s bed, trying to deceive his body into accepting the bolster as a viable substitute for Xiao Zhan. It doesn’t work out very well. 

It’s all very dreary until Xiao Zhan sends the cutest video possible from Chongqing, giving them a house tour of his family home, introducing his parents and asking them to ‘hold the fort’ until he’s back. The effect is instantaneous. Their auntie chef starts singing again in the kitchen. The serving boy walks around the breakfast cafe with a spring in his step. Yu Bin stirs himself from the reception to plump up the sofa cushions in the lobby and replace the flowers with fresh ones that he buys, out of his own pocket, from the florist in town. Yibo can’t help but wonder when they all became so dependent on Xiao Zhan to keep their spirits up during working hours. Aren’t employees usually happy when the boss is away? 

Still, the staff’s collective love for Xiao Zhan comforts him, especially during the long lonely afternoons in the back office when he watches Xiao Zhan’s video over and over and imagines that Xiao Zhan is right beside him. 

-

The mundanities of life go on, even when you wish that everything would pause just to let you mope in peace. As the most senior employee, Yibo has been charged with checking Xiao Zhan’s inbox while he’s away. It’s the low season, so there isn’t anything much; a few messages from regular guests asking for special arrangements to be made for them when the winter season comes around, negotiations with suppliers on discounts, numerous requests from TV stations asking to feature the bed and breakfast in their dramas or variety shows (Yibo has been instructed to send them a neutral placeholder response until Xiao Zhan comes back), and discussions with their regular renovation contractor on repairs to be carried out before November. Yibo deals with them uneventfully, mechanically, until he notices one morning that there are 8 unread messages under “All inboxes”. He clicks unthinkingly on it. 

For a moment he doesn’t understand what he’s looking at. Then he realises, in a cold rush of foreboding, that he’s looking at Xiao Zhan’s personal inbox that’s linked to the email client, and that the personal inbox is filled with messages from names that Yibo sees on advertisements and billboards. 

Fearfully, with a sense that he’s invading a space that he shouldn’t, he clicks on the latest email thread from Xuan Lu, an actress whom he knows is one of Xiao Zhan’s best friends. 

Zhanzhan,  

I’m sorry I couldn’t negotiate for an easier schedule since I’m due in Hengdian on Thurs morning for filming. We’ll have to squeeze the recording into Wed afternoon. But I can’t wait to sing with you! Chengcheng will be arriving from Beijing on Wed morning, so he’ll drop by as well. See you really soon! 

Yibo clicks out of the email thread and enters another one, this time from Peng Chuyue. His heart is hammering in his chest. 

Ah Zhan, 

Heard from my manager that you accepted the invite to guest in my music video. I can’t wait. It’s been so long since we worked together. It’ll be fun xxxx 

Another one, from He Jiong. 

Zhanzhan, heard you’ll be dropping by Shanghai in a couple of weeks for a recording. What a coincidence! We’re filming a special episode there for Happy Camp. Think I can entice you to come on for a bit? It’ll be great to have you. Everyone misses you. 

From Na Ying.

Thank you Zhanzhan!!! You’re really the best! Speaking of which, do we need to talk about you moving back to Beijing next year? You know my door is always open to you. Give me a ring and I’ll have everything lined up for your return.  

Yibo stops then, a combination of guilt and suspicion making him queasy. Xiao Zhan had not mentioned anything about recording or filming in Shanghai; he’d merely said that he was visiting friends. He’d certainly never breathed a word about moving back to Beijing. What is going on? Why had he kept this from Yibo, knowing that this is Yibo’s biggest insecurity? A return to the entertainment industry would mean that the bed and breakfast will be closed down or sold. Everyone here depending on Xiao Zhan for their livelihoods will be turned out into the cold. And it would sound a death knell for their relationship. There’s no way that they can continue seeing each other if Yibo is in Beidahu and Xiao Zhan goes back to his old life of rushing all over China on nonstop schedules. He’ll be stalked and chased and followed and gossiped about, and Yibo will be forbidden from coming anywhere close to him. Xiao Zhan had remained single for the entirety of his celebrity career precisely because he could not find the capacity to maintain a proper relationship. 

Above all, Xiao Zhan had kept this from him . The shocking sense of betrayal makes Yibo’s head spin. He’d told Xiao Zhan everything about himself, had laid his soul bare in a way he’d never done with any other person, and he’d believed that Xiao Zhan had done the same. All those nights that they’d laid together in bed talking, all those precious break times scrolling through each other’s photos and laughing at their old Weibo posts, the very morning of Xiao Zhan’s departure when he’d made love so tenderly to Yibo and told him that he’d call him every day - through it all, Xiao Zhan had been keeping this tremendous secret from him. Why had he done that? Why? 

Yibo gasps and makes a conscious effort to rein in his thoughts before spiralling. He should call Xiao Zhan, now, to clarify matters. He scrolls to his recent calls and dials Xiao Zhan’s number, fingers trembling. 

The line rings for almost a minute, then disconnects. 

He opens up their WeChat window, ready to send a voice message, but fails to find any adequate words when he presses ‘record’. He doesn’t want to sound overly confrontational, nor does he want Xiao Zhan to get the impression that he was intentionally snooping through his personal inbox. He needs to strike the right tone. But what should that right tone be? Things are so often distorted over communication lines.  

Taking a deep breath, Yibo forces himself to think of his options. 

It’s Tuesday. Xiao Zhan will be back on Friday. They’ll have time to clear things up then, really sit down and thresh it out, and they’ll have their personal spaces to retreat to if the conversation doesn’t go well. This is the most sensible option. 

Xiao Zhan will call him tonight, as he regularly does. Yibo can talk to him then. They’ll be able to see each other’s faces, which is infinitely preferable to sending angry voice messages. This is the second most sensible option. 

But the first option means that Yibo will be tormenting himself for another three days, trying to keep up a happy front when internally he’s besieged with doubt and fear. The second option, while more immediate, will mean that he’s accosting Xiao Zhan in that precious hour before bedtime, a time when nobody is prepared for nor willing to engage in an emotionally heightened conversation. 

There’s only one option left. It might be the worst one, but Yibo will take it by the horns the way he has done most things in his life. It got him to where he is now, in a place that he loves and desperately wants to protect. It’ll get him where he wants to be. He has to believe it. 

He goes out of the back office. Yu Bin takes one casual look at him and snaps to attention. “Yibo?” he says tentatively. “You’re really pale. Are you okay?” 

“I have to go to Shanghai,” Yibo says. His voice sounds unnatural to his ears. “No, nothing has happened to Xiao Zhan - I just need to talk to him about something. Will you take over for me? Help to keep things running for a couple of days?” 

“Of course,” says Yu Bin. “I’ll work with everyone to keep things going, don’t worry. We only have twenty guests right now, and two of them are checking out tomorrow. It’ll be fine. Do what you have to do.” 

Yibo nods stiffly, too conflicted to feel gratitude just then. 

Seven hours later, he’s boarding a flight to Shanghai.  

-

Shanghai at night is a bewildering mass of lights. Yibo has only been once, many years ago, with his parents on a packaged sightseeing tour to the first tier cities. He barely remembers anything of Shanghai beyond the sheng jian bao that he’d wolfed down every day. As he travels in the taxi down the endless expressways, passing building after building, the lights of the city extending as far as the eye can see, Shanghai feels like a whole planet apart from the countryside hush of Beidahu. This is Xiao Zhan’s world, the one that he’d commanded with such ease and elegance. This is not Yibo’s world. 

It’s close to nine when he pulls up at Xiao Zhan’s hotel, the Andaz. Doubt engulfs him again as he steps out of the taxi. He hasn’t switched on his handphone in an effort to prevent himself from sending anything to Xiao Zhan, and so he has no idea if Xiao Zhan is even in the hotel or not. He might be out with his friends. He might be at an overnight shoot. 

Yibo pulls his phone out and switches it on. It chimes almost instantly with four missed calls from Xiao Zhan, and a string of WeChat messages. Yibo doesn’t open any. He calls Xiao Zhan instead.

Xiao Zhan picks up on the third ring. The buzz of his background hits Yibo like a wall of noise; music and laughter, the hum of people chatting. “Yibo! I’ve been trying to reach you all day but your phone was switched off! I even called Yu Bin and he wouldn’t tell me anything, just kept saying that I had to call you. Sweetheart, what’s happening? Are you alright?” 

“Zhan-ge,” says Yibo, striving to keep his tone neutral. “I’m here. In Shanghai.”

There’s a long, suspended pause. “You’re in Shanghai?” 

“I just arrived. I’m at the Andaz now.” 

“Why on earth are you here?” 

“I...need to talk to you.” 

“Yibo, I…” Xiao Zhan’s voice drops off as his background increases in noise. When he comes back on, he’s shouting. “I’m at a bar right now with a few friends, but I’m in Xintiandi, just a couple of roads away. I’ll come to get you. Can you wait for me in the lobby?” 

“Okay.” 

“Don’t go anywhere, baby. I’m coming right now.” 

Yibo hangs up and blinks around at the hotel lobby, noticing for the first time the crazy opulence. It’s all gloss and smooth edges, artsy carpets and huge bamboo-like structures, floor to ceiling windows. All the people walking around look perfectly put together, sophisticated, citizens of the world. Yibo sighs and hauls his overnight bag to sit with him on one of the lounge chairs. 

Xiao Zhan appears less than ten minutes later, rushing through the glass doors of the entrance. Yibo’s heart bumps hard in thankfulness when he catches sight of him. Regardless of the problems that they might have, it’s incredibly comforting to see Xiao Zhan’s face in this unfamiliar setting. It’s akin to a feeling of coming home, an assurance that he’s safe and protected. He stands up and almost staggers when Xiao Zhan throws his arms around him, hugging him tight. 

“I missed you so much, baby,” Xiao Zhan whispers in his ear. “I’ve been worrying all day.” 

He pulls back and scans Yibo’s face anxiously. “You don’t look well. Are you sick? Have you eaten?” 

The thought of food makes Yibo’s stomach lurch. “No, but I can’t eat right now. Can we go up to your room?” 

“Yes, yes,” Xiao Zhan says quickly, words tumbling over each other. “We’ll go up to my room.” 

On their way to the lift, it seems that everyone they pass has a smile or greeting for Xiao Zhan. Xiao Zhan returns their greetings with a polite smile. Yibo has never seen him like this before; back in Beidahu he’s warm with the guests, friendly, almost teasing. Here, he’s like polished marble, debonair but distant. This is Xiao Zhan’s carefully nurtured public persona, he realises. This is Xiao Zhan the superstar, not Xiao Zhan the owner of Chen’s B&B. 

When they enter Xiao Zhan’s room, a colourful king suite with a stunning view of Shanghai’s skyscrapers, Yibo speaks first before Xiao Zhan can start. “I feel like I barely know you here,” he says. 

“What?” Xiao Zhan stands stockstill, staring at him. “What do you mean?” 

“I never realised it before. I guess, getting to know you in Beidahu, I had...a certain perception of what you were like. But that’s not entirely who you are, is it? Out here, in this world, you’re different.” 

“Yibo, what brought this on?” 

“A lot,” Yibo says, a little more snappishly than he’d intended. He drops his bag and walks over to the windows, willing himself to calm down and be rational. “Zhan-ge, I looked through your personal inbox. I didn’t mean to - I didn’t realise that I was looking at it until I was. I’m sorry. It was very wrong of me.”  

“Alright.” Xiao Zhan’s brow is furrowed, hands fisted by his side. “There’s nothing wrong with that, though. I gave you full access to my laptop and emails, both work and personal. That can’t be the issue - right?” 

“I saw some emails from your...friends. Xuan Lu, Peng Chuyue, He Jiong...a few others.”

“Yes,” says Xiao Zhan slowly. He’s clearly tracking the conversation from a few paces back like a hunter stalking prey, holding back until the point drops. 

Yibo swallows hard and gives it to him. “They were all talking about you filming or recording in Shanghai. Someone even asked you about your plans to move back to Beijing. You didn’t mention anything about it to me. You made me think that you were just here to visit friends. I had no clue…”

He stops then, involuntarily, because the dawning look of realisation on Xiao Zhan’s face is so shattering that he is physically unable to continue talking. Xiao Zhan looks like his world is breaking apart beneath his feet. Before he can restrain himself, Yibo feels tears rolling out of the corners of his eyes. 

“I just want to know,” he chokes out. “Why did you keep it from me?” 

“Yibo, I didn’t mean to…it wasn’t that I wanted to keep it from you.” 

“It’s true, then? You’re leaving Beidahu? You’re leaving me?”

“ No. ” 

“What then, what?” he’s still talking evenly, but his heart feels like nothing more than a huge blob of pain. He’d thought that they were better than this. That Xiao Zhan loved him enough to be better than this. He wipes the tears from his face, smearing snot over his fingers, but they keep coming. 

“Yibo,” says Xiao Zhan pleadingly, hands reached out. “Will you listen to me, please?” 

“I’m listening.” 

“It is true that I’m participating in a couple of recordings while I’m here. They’re for close friends who asked me to do it as a favour, and I was happy to. Xuan Lu is recording a song for autistic children; she asked me to feature in it because she knows that it was a cause I was supporting before. It’s not for profit.” Xiao Zhan takes a breath. “I’m also guesting in Peng Chuyue’s music video. The song is about reunions, so aside from me, he has asked a few other members from XNINE to join, too. We’ll just be sitting together and talking. We might dance a bit...if we remember enough of our old routines.” 

Yibo’s blinking hard now. A tiny sense of hope is starting to creep in. 

“He Jiong asked if I could guest on Happy Camp. I said no to that, because it’s too public. Every media will be after me and I can’t deal with it. I don’t have an agency anymore; it’ll be a nightmare. I can participate in small recordings as favours for friends, but that’s my limit. I didn’t tell you because - I don’t know. It actually didn’t occur to me to. Perhaps I’ve gotten so used to keeping silent about projects...I never disclosed anything to anyone before things were officially announced, not even to my parents, because leaks are so dangerous. I’m sorry. I should have been more forthcoming with you.”

“What about...returning to Beijing next year?” 

Xiao Zhan shoves his hands into his pockets and stares at the floor. His face is white to the lips. Yibo has an sudden, overpowering longing to take him into his arms and kiss the misery out of his face, but he holds back for one last clarification. “The day before I bought the bed and breakfast, I had a long talk with Na-jie. She’s been my mentor for the longest time, you know, like a real big sister to me. She said that the industry would always be open to me if I wanted to go back. That the controversies would blow over with time. But I didn’t even want to consider it then, so she said...that I should give the b&b a try for a couple of years, and she’d check in with me again. She’d help me in whatever way she could to get me back on my feet in the industry.” 

“But...you…” 

“But I’m not going anywhere,” says Xiao Zhan, raising his eyes to his. “I love the life that I have with you in Beidahu. I’ve been so happy since I moved there, and I’ve only gotten happier. I wouldn’t give you or the b&b up for anything in the world, Yibo, not for anything . Not for fame or wealth or the thrill of being in front of an audience. I’m done with all that; it’s over now. I’m sorry that I didn’t make you feel secure enough about my feelings for you. It’s been a long time since I was in a relationship and I make mistakes. I’m still learning. But I do know clearly that I love you and I want to spend my life with you. Be it in Beidahu or Taiwan or...anywhere, it doesn’t matter as long as we’re together. You’re the most important thing to me.” 

Yibo leans forward blindly, hands outstretched and seeking, and Xiao Zhan catches him because that’s what Xiao Zhan has always done, and Yibo has been a fool of fools ever to think that Xiao Zhan would abandon him. Xiao Zhan’s hand is on his face, wiping his tears away, caressing his cheek, and then they’re kissing wildly, mouths sliding open and wet against each other, tongues entangling, pulling apart only for short, hurried breaths. Yibo drags him to the bed and they topple down together, Xiao Zhan pressing him down into the mattress, dragging their shirts over their heads. 

“Get it off,” Yibo gasps, hands tugging at Xiao Zhan’s pants, and they separate long enough to kick off pants and underwear and socks and meld together again, skin against skin so close that it feels like they’re a singular person. Yibo wants this. He wants this wonderful weight on him, this feeling of Xiao Zhan completely encapsulating him, bracketing him in, above and around and inside. 

“I love you, Zhan-ge,” he says, because he does, with all his heart. “I’m so sorry that I doubted you. I was so stupid, jumping to conclusions like that.” 

“No more apologies,” Xiao Zhan murmurs against his cheek. “Let’s stop saying sorry. There’s no need.” 

Yibo wraps arms and legs around him and bares his throat for Xiao Zhan to lay open-mouthed kisses along its length. He can feel Xiao Zhan’s arousal pressing into his inner thigh, and his own cock is pushing up against Xiao Zhan’s stomach, but that seems to take second place to relearning each other’s bodies, to covering every inch of skin with kisses, to marking territory anew. This is my man , he thinks with a rush of joy. He’s mine and I’m his, and nothing is going to take him away from me. 

Xiao Zhan groans against him, tilting him slightly to run a hand over the planes of his back and into the dip of his ass. “Did you bring any lube?” 

“I didn’t think of it, too agitated,” Yibo says, busily tonguing his ear. “But I might have a tube in one of the pockets...left over from when I used to pack the bag for stayovers at your place.” 

Xiao Zhan eyes the bag as he mouths at Yibo’s shoulder. It was carelessly discarded at the entrance and seems a thousand miles away from the bed. “I don’t know if I can make it there.” 

“Oh, my darling,” Yibo breathes out a little huff of laughter. 

“I almost lost you. I don’t want to let you go now.” 

“You didn’t lose me. Not even close.” 

“But you came all the way here, and you looked so upset when I found you, and you said you didn’t know me - I couldn’t understand what was happening. My whole mind went blank. Yibo, baby, you scared me so badly. I thought you were breaking up with me. Please don’t do that ever again.” 

“But it got us here, didn’t it?” Yibo says. “We’re here now, and we’re good, and we do need to get that lube if you’re going to be able to fuck me.” 

“Ngh,” says Xiao Zhan very eloquently. 

“Fuck me, Zhan-ge,” Yibo says, giving him his best bedroom eyes. “Fuck me till I can’t walk. Till I can’t think of anything but you. Till I can feel you inside me for the whole of tomorrow.” 

Xiao Zhan makes a complicated little noise and, in a great show of willpower, pushes himself off the bed, his cock bouncing hard between his legs as he covers the distance to the bag in a few long strides. His body looks unearthly. Yibo draws his knees up and snakes a hand down to his cock, stroking it lightly as he watches Xiao Zhan rifling through the bag. Arousal is thrumming so hard through him that he feels dizzy with it. 

“Zhan-ge,” he says impatiently, pushing his thumb under the head. “Come on. I need you.” 

“There’s so much stuff in here,” Xiao Zhan grumbles, flinging clothes haphazardly onto the floor. “How long were you planning to stay in Shanghai, a month?” 

“Are you seriously doing this right now? Just check the fucking pockets!” 

“Why do you have a lego set in here?”

“How would I know? I didn’t pack it in there. It’s probably from last time...fuck, Zhan-ge, if you don’t find that lube and get over here in three seconds, I’m going to jerk myself off.” 

Xiao Zhan’s back on the bed in the prescribed time, a lifesaving tube of lube held in his palm. Yibo tugs him down, wraps himself around him again as he uncaps the tube and warms it in his hands. “I want you so badly.” 

“I know, fuck, I know,” Xiao Zhan says, kissing him desperately. “Hold still, baby.” 

He places a pillow under Yibo’s lower back and Yibo obligingly lifts up his legs, hooking his knees around his elbows, baring himself eagerly. Xiao Zhan runs a lubed finger from his balls to his ass and slides it slowly into him, making small admiring noises, murmuring words that Yibo can’t decipher over the roaring in his head. Xiao Zhan’s finger curls inside him, probing him, and then there’s two, and it feels so good but not enough. Not nearly enough. Yibo moans and rubs his cheek against the pillow when Xiao Zhan inserts a third finger. 

“Please,” he manages to say, clenching mindlessly around Xiao Zhan’s fingers. “Zhan-ge, please. I need you.” 

“God, Yibo,” Xiao Zhan says, his voice strained, “if you could look at yourself right now…”

Yibo doesn’t want to look at himself. He wants Xiao Zhan inside him. He reaches down, feeling for Xiao Zhan’s cock, and grips it firmly. “Inside. Now!”

“Wait,” Xiao Zhan gasps, lubing himself up. “It’s going to be tight.”

“Isn’t that good ?” 

Xiao Zhan chuckles breathlessly and bats Yibo’s hand away from his dick, positioning himself. Yibo holds his knees wider apart, anticipating, and finally, finally, feels the head of Xiao Zhan’s cock breach his entrance. It’s tight, as Xiao Zhan predicted, and he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, as Yibo gasps and does his best to relax his muscles through the burn. He feels so full, complete, and when Xiao Zhan bottoms out, breaths coming out short and harsh like he just ran a marathon, Yibo cannot imagine a single more perfect moment. 

“I love you,” he says again. 

“I love you too,” says Xiao Zhan, kissing him tenderly. “Now hold on.” 

And hold on he does as Xiao Zhan gives him the railing of his life, pounding against his prostate so hard that moans tear raggedly out of his throat, pulling out to the edge when they’re close and pumping his hips in quick shallow thrusts that drive Yibo to the brink of madness, and finally sinking so deep that Yibo can’t tell where he ends and Xiao Zhan begins. He’s gripping the bedsheets now, legs hooked over Xiao Zhan’s hips, mindless, and Xiao Zhan pulls him up, settles him on his lap. “Work for it, Yibo,” he says, smirking, and Yibo has to smack his shoulder before bracing his feet on the bed and going for it. 

He loses all sense of time and space. The world seems narrowed down to the two of them, just him and Xiao Zhan and this push and pull between them, their bodies sliding together in a rhythm that they’ve perfected. His thighs ache as he rolls forward again and again, clinging to Xiao Zhan’s neck, back arching, reaching deeper, and he doesn’t resist when Xiao Zhan lays him back down again, takes his cock in hand. “Sweetheart, are you close?” 

Yibo nods, not trusting his ability to form any words.  

“Then come,” Xiao Zhan says. “Come for me, Yibo. You’re so wonderful. Everything I could possibly want. Let me see you come.” 

His head hits the pillow and his whole body shudders in a climax so intense that he blacks out. When he regains consciousness, he’s vaguely aware that Xiao Zhan is holding his hips and pumping into him, but he’s still lost in the sensation of coming, cock squeezing out a few long final spurts all over his stomach. 

“Amazing,” Xiao Zhan breathes again, then shoves himself in and pulses deep within Yibo, hips moving tight against him as he loses himself in orgasm. Yibo holds him through it, biting bruises into his shoulder and neck, marking him possessively. 

Xiao Zhan tries to move away after but Yibo holds him in. “Just...stay inside until you soften,” he says. “Don’t leave me just yet.” 

“Are you feeling okay?” 

“I am now,” says Yibo, smiling into his eyes. “But I may not be okay again in half an hour.” 

Xiao Zhan laughs helplessly. “I can’t believe you.” 

“It’s been six days since we’ve had sex! I’m allowed to be needy.” 

“Yes,” Xiao Zhan surrenders, running a hand lovingly through his hair. “You are.” 

When Yibo has fully satisfied his cravings and they’ve washed up and huddled back under the quilt, Xiao Zhan says, “I’m recording the song with Xuan Lu tomorrow. Will you come with me?” 

Yibo draws back slightly to look at him. “Do you want me there?” 

“I do.” Xiao Zhan brushes a thumb gently over his lips. “You’re right; I do exist in two different worlds, and so far, you haven’t had a chance to see me as I am here. I want you to be a part of my life in Shanghai and Beijing as much as you’re a part of my life in Beidahu.”

“I’d like that,” says Yibo. “But just for tomorrow. I’m going back on Thursday. Can’t leave Yu Bin to handle things without any cover.” 

Xiao Zhan’s eyes crinkle up into an impossibly fond smile. “What a star employee you are.” 

“That’s why you hired me,” Yibo quips, and leans forward to kiss him goodnight. 

-

They wake up so late the next morning that they miss the hotel breakfast. Yibo is grumpy because he’d wanted to ‘spy out the land’, as he put it, and perhaps get some ideas for how to jazz up their own breakfast service, so Xiao Zhan mollifies him with a fantastic blowjob that leaves him limp against the pillows, smiling stupidly until he’s hauled off the bed to get showered and dressed. 

“Anyway, we’re in Shanghai,” says Xiao Zhan when they finally make it out of their room close to lunchtime. “So what if we miss a standard hotel breakfast? I was originally planning to drop by Tianzifang to check out some art stuff before heading to meet Xuan Lu, so you can just tag along with me. You’ll find everything you could possibly want to eat there.” 

It’s too warm to walk, and Xiao Zhan is careful about avoiding any mobbing or stalking, so they take a taxi to the tree-lined boulevards of the former French Concession. Xiao Zhan is decked out in a fitted black button-down with skinny jeans, and even with a mask covering half his face, he looks every inch the man that China had gone crazy for. Yibo gazes and gazes, until Xiao Zhan eventually looks over. “What? Do I have something in my hair?” 

“No,” says Yibo. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have you.” 

Xiao Zhan’s eyes narrow. “Not in public, Yibo. I won’t be able to stop myself from touching you and I can guarantee, if my hands get anywhere near you we’ll be on the Weibo search topics in five minutes.”  

Yibo grins and behaves himself. It’s pleasantly less crowded in Tianzifang than they’d expected and they share a selection of piping hot street snacks between them, huddling in the little spaces between the storefronts to wolf the food down. There seems to be a very lengthy list of art galleries and little kitschy shops that Xiao Zhan wants to visit, so Yibo buys himself a cold tea and follows him patiently around, watching the flow of people ebbing in and out through the maze of narrow walkways. It’s comfortable here, cosy, and he enjoys seeing Xiao Zhan’s eyes lighting up when he spots something that he wants to buy, or if he bumps into someone whom he knows from the art circles. He’s beginning to understand that this world will always be a part of Xiao Zhan, somehow, because despite the troubles and unhappinesses there have also been good friends and memories, and Yibo will not take that away from Xiao Zhan because of any selfish, irrational insecurities. 

They’re loaded down with shopping bags when they arrive at the recording studio at three. Xuan Lu comes running out to greet them, and stops in surprise when she sees the amount of stuff that both of them are carrying. “Zhanzhan, did you buy up the whole of Shanghai?” 

“Feels like it,” says Xiao Zhan. “It’s a good thing the airline gives me a lot of baggage allowance. Shijie, it’s so good to see you!”

They hug long and tight when the shopping bags have been deposited on the floor of the studio, and when they finally let go, both of them are wiping their eyes. “Shijie, someone important has come along with me today,” Xiao Zhan says, reaching out to pull Yibo to his side. “This is my Yibo. Boyfriend, future husband, love of my life, the one.”

Xuan Lu turns a smile on him, and even though Yibo doesn’t typically hug strangers, he doesn’t mind when she puts her arms around him for a quick squeeze. “I’m so glad that you’re here. You have no idea how happy I am that our Zhanzhan has finally found someone. He was alone for way too long!”

“He might want some alone time from me,” Yibo jokes. “I drive him out of his mind.” 

“Quite right, you brat,” Xiao Zhan agrees, pulling him back and kissing him hard on the mouth. “Forgive the PDA, Shijie. I haven’t been able to kiss him since we left the hotel this morning.” 

“Oh god,” says Xuan Lu, rolling her eyes. “I never pinned you to be the mushy type, but one never knows, huh?” 

“Keep it down around me, at least,” says a voice from behind them, and Xiao Zhan yelps as he turns and throws his arms around a good-looking young man. Yibo raises an eyebrow playfully and the man puts up both hands. “I promise this doesn’t usually happen. We’re not the touchy feely type of bros.” 

“Correction, Da Cheng hates me touching him. All it does is just make me touch him more,” Xiao Zhan laughs. 

They switch to work mode fairly quickly, because Xuan Lu is on a tight schedule. Yibo sits beside Zhuocheng on the sofa and watches as they run through the lyrics and rehearse their harmonies, Xiao Zhan’s voice strong and clear and high, soaring above Xuan Lu’s at certain points, dipping into a softer supporting harmony when she takes over. He’s entirely wrapped up in the song, eyes intent on Xuan Lu’s face as they sing back and forth, and Yibo has glimpses of the singer that he’d been, passionate and creative and sensitive, able to imbue his voice with so much emotional meaning. 

“We were devastated when Xiao Zhan quit and relocated to Jilin,” says Zhuocheng when Xuan Lu and Xiao Zhan are busy with their second take in the recording studio. “Lu-jie and myself especially. The two of them are two of my closest celebrity friends, and we met up whenever we could. He supported me through a lot of rough times...and was there for the good times, too. We missed him so much - still do - but you know, he’s in a much better place now.” 

“Is he?” 

“Yes,” Zhuocheng nods. “He loved his work but the last two, three years of his career were really, really bad. He couldn’t do anything without antis attacking him, and he was stalked everywhere he went. People followed him into planes and hotels and constantly waited outside his home, and he couldn’t tell if they were fans or antis. He became paranoid about stepping out of his home. Once, someone threw water at him and he thought it was acid. That was really terrifying. He was so traumatised when I went to check on him that he couldn’t talk for an hour.”

Yibo grips his hands tight into fists. “He hasn’t told me any of that. I know, of course, that it was bad, but not this bad…”

“Maybe he prefers to forget by not talking about it,” says Zhuocheng. “Things are sometimes best left in the dark.” 

“Thank you for being there for him during those times.” 

“Zhanzhan didn’t deserve any of it. He was never arrogant, he worked hard, and he treated everyone fairly and kindly, which is rare to come by in the type of industry we work in. That’s one thing you can be sure of, Yibo - he never harmed anyone, even when he was being attacked. He endured everything with courage and grace. And I think...he’s now being rewarded for all that pain with you, and what he has built in Beidahu. We still talk, you know, and he tells me that this is the happiest he’s ever been.” Zhuocheng looks thoughtfully at him. “He said that out of everyone who helped him, you did the most to drag him out of his depression and bring a fresh perspective back into his life. He said he was inspired by your energy and how you just unapologetically went for what you wanted.” 

“I’ve been feeling…” Yibo has to stop and swallow around a lump in his throat. “I guess, I’ve been feeling that I didn’t give him much of a choice. I threw myself at his head and I sort of pressured him into a relationship with me. I didn’t consider whether it was the best thing for him or not. I just wanted him so much, and I went for it.” 

“What do you take him for?” Zhuocheng says. “Nobody on this earth can force Xiao Zhan to do anything he doesn’t want to. He may look gentle and mild, but he’s tough as nails underneath. He faced up to those antis for almost three years , and they did unspeakable things to him. He didn’t compromise on his honesty and dignity, and he avoided all the tricks that people use to stay at the top. You think he wouldn’t have rejected you if he didn’t like you? The truth is, Yibo, he fell in love with you very early on, barely a couple of months after you joined, and he just stayed away because he didn’t want to take advantage of his position as your boss. He wouldn’t have done a thing about his feelings if you hadn’t gone for it, and both of you would have missed out on all this.” 

Yibo nods, accepting, and they sit in silence for a while, watching Xiao Zhan and Xuan Lu laughing together in the studio. “I want him to be happy like this from now on,” says Yibo. 

Zhuocheng smiles and bumps his shoulder briefly. “I’m sure he will be.” 

-

When Yibo leaves the next morning, Xiao Zhan doesn’t send him to the airport. He has to be at the filming for Peng Chuyue’s music video by eleven, and there isn’t enough time for him to make the return trip to Pudong. So they kiss quickly, chastely, at the entrance of the hotel room before Yibo leaves, and Xiao Zhan says, “I should be home around eight p.m. tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be there, Zhan-ge,” Yibo says, squeezing his hand. “Apartment all cooled and clean, bedsheets changed, your favourite dishes on the dining table waiting for you.” 

“Not cooked by you, I hope?” 

“Of course not. I meant takeouts from town.” 

Xiao Zhan laughs a little too hard at that. 

-

Before the winter season starts, in the last balmy days of autumn, Yibo finally manages to persuade Xiao Zhan to take a day off for a trip to the waterfall. They leave early on a Thursday morning. The trees are red and orange on the mountainsides; the ground is carpeted by fallen leaves. Xiao Zhan takes deep lungfuls of the air when they step out of his apartment block. “This air has healed me so many times over the years,” he says.

“Is it the only thing that has healed you?” 

“Are you starting again?” Xiao Zhan laughs, rolling his eyes in exasperated fondness. But when they get into his car, he draws Yibo in and gives him a deep, filthy, tongue-filled kiss that leaves Yibo shivering with pleasure. “Not the only thing. Not even the best thing.” 

They stop by a noodle shop in town first, ordering a bowl of Jilin cold noodles to share. The town is sleepy and quiet, still waiting for the tourist crowd to descend when the ski season reopens, and so they get to enjoy their noodles in peace. Then they’re off again, Xiao Zhan with one hand on the steering wheel, driving out of the town into the winding mountain roads. 

They sing as they go along, starting with all of Xiao Zhan’s recorded songs (‘Satisfaction’ is Yibo’s personal favourite, and he insists that it refers to him even though it was recorded six years before they even met), moving on to classics by Jay Chou, Mayday and A-Mei, and wrapping up with the current favourites of Yisa Yu, Liang Bo and Li Ronghao. Xiao Zhan reveals that he knows Liang Bo fairly well and has hung out with him several times in Beijing, which makes Yibo more excited than Xiao Zhan has ever seen him. “So, you’re actually a fanboy,” he teases. 

“I can be anything for Liang Bo,” Yibo counters. 

They reach the parking lot at noon and unload their backpacks from the car. It’s an hour’s hike through the woods to the waterfall and Xiao Zhan, being the slower one, sets the pace, picking his way carefully through the uneven paths and narrow staircases while Yibo follows behind, steady and sure-footed. They meet a few other hikers on the path; a couple looking for a spot to sit and paddle in the shallows of the river, a young family puffing on their way back from the waterfall, an old man who recognises Xiao Zhan and stops to engage them in conversation. He takes long hikes through the woods every other day, he says, to help take his mind off the passing of his wife a few months ago. 

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” says Xiao Zhan, his warm heart clenching with sympathy. “You must have had a wonderful marriage.” 

“Forty-three years of happiness,” says the old man. “I don’t remember a single argument. She was always there for me, my pillar of strength.” 

He wishes them well and they part to go their separate ways, the old man on a hiking path to the next mountain, Xiao Zhan and Yibo bound for the waterfall. Xiao Zhan sweats liberally even though it’s a cool day, soaking through his hat and shirt, and Yibo supplies him with a new towel when his own becomes drenched. 

The waterfall is small and tiered, falling into a deep green pool that’s covered by autumn leaves. Yibo guides Xiao Zhan through stepping stones to a large rock that they can perch safely on. The breeze is invigorating and Xiao Zhan, to his great relief, starts drying up. They unwrap the meat buns and sandwiches that their auntie chef had prepared for them the evening before and sit eating in companionable silence, hands brushing occasionally against each other, watching the endless stream of water pouring down into the pool. Yibo only says, “Nice, isn’t it?” and Xiao Zhan replies, “Yes.” 

On their way back through the hiking path they run again into the couple, who has found a nice rocky shore to park themselves and splash about in the shallows. Since they aren’t rushed for time, Yibo says, “Let’s do that too!” and Xiao Zhan follows him willingly down the slope to the shore. There are stones all along the width of the river and Yibo, with the dexterity of a young dancer, hops easily back and forth until Xiao Zhan tells him to stop showing off. They paddle a bit in the water, gasping and laughing at how cold it is, and help to dry off each other’s feet before resuming their hike. 

It darkens as they drive back to the bed and breakfast, early evening sun sending streaks of pinks and reds across the sky. By the time they arrive at Beidahuzhen, it’s completely dark, and they make a pitstop at a restaurant for Yibo to run in and order noodles and dumplings for their takeout dinner. 

In a month, the roads will be busy with tour buses and rented cars. Tourists will be flooding in again, transient visitors on their three-day, four-day mountain retreat holidays, filling the inns and guesthouses, dropping into the restaurants and souvenir shops. There will be first-timers on the ski slopes, regular skiers and thrill seekers. Some will try snowboarding. 

And guests will come to their little bed and breakfast again, looking for something quiet and ‘off the main road’, something more affordable than the branded hotels, something with more character than the guesthouses. Solo travellers, dating couples, newlyweds, families, groups of friends, aunties on a girls’ holiday, uncles on a boys’ holiday. They’ll troop in through the entrance, be greeted by Yu Bin or Yibo at the reception, exchange a few friendly words with Xiao Zhan, and go up to find the rooms that will be their temporary homes. They’ll watch the changefulness of the sky, the passing of the clouds over the mountains, and the sparkle of the stream, and they’ll feel that they’ve left their old lives behind for a few glorious days. They’ll love and they’ll laugh, perhaps they might fight a little; perhaps someone will be surprised by a proposal; perhaps someone will gain the spiritual healing to face their challenges again. 

As they turn into their little road and the lights of the bed and breakfast come into view, Xiao Zhan feels an unutterable gratitude for everything in his life that has brought him to this point. It wasn’t what he set out to do or achieve, but life had strange ways of working out at the worst, most hopeless times. The future lies before him with its simple pleasures and daily routines, with its little adventures and surprises. With Yibo, who’s sitting wordlessly beside him, the lights from the bed and breakfast shining onto his face and making him look young and ethereally lovely. Yibo, who’d entered his life when he least expected it and reminded him how to enjoy living again. He reaches out to clasp his hand, entwining their fingers. 

Yibo smiles lovingly at him, understanding. “Are you happy, Zhan-ge?” 

“Happy,” Xiao Zhan confirms. 

“Will you stay here with me for the rest of our lives?” 

Xiao Zhan looks again at his home lights gleaming out at him and thinks of the vivid city lights of Shanghai and Beijing. Two worlds, but one that holds all that he treasures within. 

“Yes,” he says. “I choose to live out my life with you, on this mountain road.” 

They’re still holding hands when they step into the bed and breakfast and close the door quietly behind them.