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When Zhou Zishu opened the door to the Qin family home, the first thing he noticed was the silence. It was thick in here, with the dust motes floating through the air and the heavy white sheets of canvas covering the furniture like funeral shrouds. Zhou Zishu found himself holding his breath, as if life itself wasn't allowed here.
It had already been three months since Juxiao's funeral. There were no more family members left. Just Zhou Zishu, who felt like an impostor at the funeral parlour and somehow even more of one here, even though this was the home that he had spent most of his childhood in. His parents had left him here, under the care of Qin Huaizhang, who had started off as a teacher and became more of an uncle or a stand-in father. Zhou Zishu had returned the favour when he'd passed, taking care of Qin Juxiao in turn. And now, here he was, the sole remainder of two families, staring down his unwanted inheritance in the form of the Qin family home and all of its possessions, carefully stored away for him for whenever he was ready to face it.
Zhou Zishu didn't feel ready now. He simply didn't think it would get any better and at the very least, perhaps he could just get it over with. Perhaps that just had to be enough.
He remembered, back when he was younger, that he would admire the history that Qin Huaizhang had collected on his shelves. Centuries of writing and art and knowledge, in the form of tapestries, paintings, books, statues, each of them with their own story, and so many of them readily told by his old teacher without a moment's hesitation. Zhou Zishu frowned at the way his footfalls echoed loudly in the empty house as he walked through the rooms, pulling sheets away and shielding his face from the flurry of dust that erupted into the air. He didn't bother with all of it. He wasn't ready to deal with that yet, when it was hard enough unlocking the front door. It was better to start small and work his way up. To give himself the time to be okay with just being here at all.
He started with a deep lacquered chest of sandalwood, with an intricate tree in blossom carved into its sides. His fingers knew its planes and ridges, tracing the same paths that they did nearly two decades ago when he first saw it. His favourites of Qin Huaizhang's collection were always the ones he'd seen early in his stay, back when he was still new here and unsure of himself. Zhou Zishu smiled to himself, remembering the way Qin Huaizhang and his wife would sit with him in this very room, telling him the tales of their family like he was a son. Like he had the same right to their memories that Juxiao did. He was glad for it now. At least there was still someone to carry them all, even if it was a broken, useless man.
There was movement at the door, and it brought Zhou Zishu out of his reverie. He was silent, creeping with his bare feet across the floor until he was back in the main entrance. He'd shut the door behind him, but hadn't locked it. He hadn't told anyone that he was coming here.
"Zishu?" a familiar voice called, making him relax at once. "Are you in there?"
He closed the distance to the door, pulling it open, and sighed at Jing Beiyuan, standing there with his sunglasses perched on his head and his arm through his husband's. "Beiyuan. What are you doing here?"
Jing Beiyuan raised an eyebrow at him, like it was obvious. "You're here. Of course I'd come and check on you."
Zhou Zishu pulled the door further open, letting them both inside. He didn't bother asking how Jing Beiyuan knew that he would be here, that this would be the day that his resolve finally broke. If their positions were reversed, Zhou Zishu probably would have been able to tell just as easily.
"I've never been here before," Jing Beiyuan said, standing there and taking the silent house in. "But I feel like I know it all the same. The stories you told me of this place… it looks almost exactly like I imagined it would."
Wu Xi stood beside Jing Beiyuan, silent as ever, but there was a kindness in his eyes when they met Zhou Zishu's. It didn't feel like pity.
"So, where did you start?" Jing Beiyuan asked, walking to the room that Zhou Zishu had just been in. "Is that the chest full of paintings you used to talk about?"
Zhou Zishu followed him, back to the carved chest. He was careful as he took hold of the lid, easing it up. Jing Beiyuan took the other end without having to ask, helping Zhou Zishu set it aside carefully. The paintings inside were centuries old. Zhou Zishu remembered Qin Huaizhang working to get them restored and framed. Qin Juxiao must have continued that work, because there were more frames than Zhou Zishu remembered. They were carefully stored upright, with handwritten labels attached to the side of them. Zhou Zishu knelt down, smiling at the familiar writing even as it felt like his chest was caving in. Two birds in the plum(?) blossoms, in Qin Juxiao's slanted scrawl, referencing the painting that he'd always liked the most. When he was younger, Qin Juxiao had always thought they were cherry blossoms. Zhou Zishu had been the one to teach him how to tell them apart but for years, Qin Juxiao still called this painting two birds in the cherry blossoms out of habit.
"I can't keep these," Zhou Zishu said softly, mostly to himself though he knew Jing Beiyuan would hear. "I can't… where would I even keep them? I just don't want them to go to waste either. After all these years, they deserve someone who would appreciate them."
They deserved someone who could look at them, without feeling like they were dying. Zhou Zishu didn't think he would ever manage that.
Jing Beiyuan hummed in thought, looking down at the painting. "I'm sure there are art collectors out there. Maybe someone who would know how to take proper care of everything. Who rotates what they have on display, so this doesn't just sit in storage forever. This artwork deserves better than that. I could do some research?"
Zhou Zishu nodded. "Thanks, Beiyuan."
With a quiet huff, Jing Beiyuan helped Zhou Zishu put the paintings away and cover the chest up with its sheet once again. "It's the least I can do. Remember, Zishu. I'm here to help. Let's do what you need to here, and then you can come over to our place and we'll order some food and drink through some bottles of wine."
Zhou Zishu smiled again, and it was easier this time. "Yeah. That sounds good."
The next morning, Zhou Zishu woke to a shortlist of art collectors in the area, put together by Jing Beiyuan with a timestamp to the email that said that he most likely did this after Zhou Zishu left after having drinks together the previous night. It was surprisingly coherent, despite the time of night and the sheer amount of wine Jing Beiyuan had consumed. As Zhou Zishu scrolled through it and started cross-checking the names on it, he found that it was well-researched too.
The first on the list was Zhao Jing, which Zhou Zishu knew that Jing Beiyuan put there only because of his terrible sense of humour, and to check that Zhou Zishu was paying attention. Zhao Jing was the worst possible candidate, rich and gaudy and clearly obsessed with status. Even if he was genuine in his interest for art, Zhou Zishu suspected that his collection was likely so big that none of the Qin family's artworks would see the light of day.
It was easy to dismiss the second option as well. As much as Luo Fumeng did seem to be a more serious collector of art, everything Zhou Zishu could find about her indicated that her tastes were highly specific. Too specific for what he was looking for, even though he would have liked to at least meet her.
The third option was Wen Kexing. He was wealthy and young—just slightly younger than Zhou Zishu himself—and he was clearly just getting started with his own art collection. Everything Zhou Zishu could find about him indicated that his tastes were broad but it was always clear when he found something that he liked. He'd recently purchased some big-ticket items at auctions that made Zhou Zishu suspect that he would like the Qin family's collection. At the very least, he was much more promising than the others.
He was also free that afternoon. He was prompt to reply to Zhou Zishu's messages, setting up a meeting at the Qin family home so he could take an initial look at the collection to determine his interest. He was genial as he spoke on the phone, charming and polite and entirely fake, but Zhou Zishu wasn't one to talk. He'd spent his life switching one mask for the other, fitting himself into any role that was required of him, building his life like a house of cards while pretending it was sturdy as a mansion right up until Qin Juxiao's death brought it all crashing down. It didn't even feel like a lie when he gave his name as Zhou Xu, when he didn't really know who Zhou Zishu was anyway, and didn't even know where to start with trying to find out.
He showed up early to the meeting, pulling up to the Qin family home a good fifteen minutes before he was due to meet Wen Kexing, only to find a sleek red sports car already parked nearby. It was ostentatious, but it was nothing compared to the man who owned it.
Wen Kexing wore a long embroidered coat in deep red, made of rich velvet. His cuffs and lapels were detailed with gold thread that matched his coat buttons. Beneath it, he was dressed in all black with his long hair pulled over one shoulder in a loose plait. He was ridiculous. He was beautiful.
But mostly, he was ridiculous.
"Zhou-xiansheng," he greeted warmly, as if noticing Zhou Zishu for the first time when it was clear he'd noticed the car as soon as it pulled up, "I'm so grateful you could make time for me today."
They clasped hands. Zhou Zishu assumed it was to shake, but Wen Kexing held one of his hands between both of his own and gave him an assessing look. It made Zhou Zishu's skin prickle, like Wen Kexing was peeling it away to look underneath. He'd been mentally undressed by people before. He knew what that felt like. This felt more piercing. More intimate.
Wen Kexing let him go and smiled again. Zhou Zishu noticed this time that he was wearing lipstick, and then found that he couldn't make himself unnotice the red gloss of those lips and the way they shone in the light.
"Please," Wen Kexing said, gesturing to the house without taking his eyes off Zhou Zishu. "Lead the way."
All of Zhou Zishu's complicated feelings about being in this house again were being overshadowed by how conscious he felt of Wen Kexing's presence at his back. His interest was palpable.
"Here," he said, leading the way to the room where Qin Huaizhang stored his family's art collection.
He turned around, knowing that he would catch Wen Kexing staring. The man didn't look the slightest bit embarrassed and if anything, only took it as permission to be more blatant.
"I do enjoy beautiful things. You said that you had a room full of artwork and here I am, already breathless from what I see before me."
Zhou Zishu was impressed that anyone could just say that sort of thing without wanting the ground to swallow them. He opted not to respond, pulling the dust sheet from the trunk of artwork instead.
Wen Kexing clearly chose to focus on the fact that Zhou Zishu hadn't outright rejected him. He stepped closer, ostensibly to look at the artwork but he was standing so close that Zhou Zishu could feel the warmth of his body. He wasn't actually sure if he could feel Wen Kexing's breath on the nape of his neck but he could imagine it clearly enough.
"This artwork has been in the family for centuries," he said, needing to clear his throat to steady his voice. "Though I imagine you'll assess it yourself. The purpose of today's meeting was to see if you were interested."
"Interested?" Wen Kexing repeated, raising his eyebrows. "I must be doing something incredibly wrong if that was unclear."
"In the artwork," Zhou Zishu clarified tersely.
Wen Kexing's eyebrows remained raised. "Of course. That's what I meant."
Zhou Zishu didn't believe him. He tried to continue through the rest of the paintings in the chest, explaining the way that they were thematically split into the four seasons, all the while ignoring the weight of Wen Kexing's attention on him. It was difficult, but that didn't matter when he was good at pretending.
He didn't bother to ask if Wen Kexing was still interested in the artwork afterwards. There was no point in giving him another opening and besides, he didn't even need to.
"I'm sure we'll see each other plenty in the near future so I can thoroughly examine all the art you're offering me," Wen Kexing said, pressing his business card into Zhou Zishu's hand with an incredibly deliberate brush of their fingers. "I look forward to it."
Zhou Zishu felt the imprint of a handwritten phone number on the back of the card. He couldn't even remember Wen Kexing pulling out a pen.
Then Wen Kexing was gone, and Zhou Zishu was alone in the silent stillness of the house he grew up in.
"What the fuck," he whispered under his breath, and pocketed the business card.
Zhou Zishu was not in the habit of flattering himself. He had a forgettable face. There was strength to his frame, even if he'd spent the past few months drinking most of it away. He was, at best, a blank slate for people to project their own fantasies onto and he'd come to accept that about himself.
Wen Kexing was clearly interested in whatever he saw in Zhou Zishu, without fully realising that he was the one who'd put it there. It didn't matter. Zhou Zishu would keep their interactions detached and professional, and Wen Kexing would lose interest when he realised that pursuing this wasn't worth the effort.
Or at least, that had been the plan. Before Jing Beiyuan had taken it upon himself to get involved.
"You're practically celibate," he told Zhou Zishu, rolling his eyes. "What are you trying to do, become an immortal saint? You deserve to fuck a pretty guy every now and then. You're welcome, Zishu."
Because of course Jing Beiyuan had taken one look at the business card and immediately identified who it belonged to and what he looked like (creep. Zhou Zishu would have done the same). And then he'd pickpocketed Zhou Zishu's phone and set up a date for that very night.
"I'm going to murder you."
"You know Wu Xi would just avenge me. And he'd get away with it." Jing Beiyuan nudged him. "Just go out and have fun. Get laid. Kick him out after. It's not that serious."
Zhou Zishu refused to admit—at least out loud—that Jing Beiyuan had a point. He didn't back out of the date though, which was functionally the same thing based on the self-satisfied grin Jing Beiyuan wore as Zhou Zishu left for his own apartment later that afternoon, seeing him off with an incredibly suggestive, have fuuuun.
The bar Wen Kexing chose looked expensive from the entrance itself. It was fairly local, but Zhou Zishu had never been here before. There were already a few tables occupied but he picked Wen Kexing out with ease, sitting in a booth at the very back, his dark eyes fixed on the door like he'd been waiting. He wore a red silk shirt, which he'd left unbuttoned enough for it to cut a deep V down his chest. His pants were cut to accentuate the length of his legs and Zhou Zishu couldn't help noticing them as Wen Kexing stood up to greet him.
"You came," he said, sounding incredibly pleased. He was wearing a cologne that smelt spicy and intoxicating and made Zhou Zishu's mouth water. He placed a hand on Zhou Zishu's back, the touch warm through the material of the plain white button up he'd opted for, and guided him to take a seat in the booth.
There was already a bottle of wine waiting on the table, and Wen Kexing poured them both glasses before handing one to Zhou Zishu. Again, the brush of their fingers was incredibly deliberate and Wen Kexing was watching him, looking for a reaction.
Zhou Zishu gave him none, noting the way that now that he'd arrived, Wen Kexing had lost interest in the door and, for that matter, the rest of the bar entirely. He was sitting facing Zhou Zishu, with his back to everyone else. It was equal parts flattering and unnerving to be the centre of his attention.
"Let me buy your drinks tonight, A-Xu."
Zhou Zishu raised an eyebrow. "A-Xu?"
"Do you mind it?"
Instead of answering, Zhou Zishu sipped at his wine slowly, letting Wen Kexing wait. When he finally spoke, he asked, "I didn't realise we were actually here for drinks."
He enjoyed the way Wen Kexing's eyes widened, before he caught himself and covered it up with a smile. "Oh. Was I that obvious?"
Zhou Zishu knocked the rest of his wine back, and then emptied what was left of their bottle into his glass and drained that too. "Shall we?"
Wen Kexing looked bemused, following him out of the bar and and into the night. "Are we walking?"
"I live close enough," Zhou Zishu answered. "The bars I frequent are nowhere near as fancy as that one, but they're nearby and I've walked home from those in far worse condition."
"Ah but A-Xu, can I just…"
Wen Kexing guided him into a nearby alley, backing him up against the wall. Zhou Zishu felt his heart rate kick up in pace as Wen Kexing leaned in, bypassing his mouth entirely to nuzzle into his neck. He exhaled shakily, and Zhou Zishu could feel it tickling against his skin. He was half-hard already. He really did need to get laid. Wen Kexing pressed in closer, until their bodies were flush against each other. He hummed low in his throat, rocking their hips against each other, and Zhou Zishu grabbed for him, fingers digging into Wen Kexing's arms as he tried to remember how to breathe.
They were out in public. They hadn't even kissed yet.
"Wen Kexing," Zhou Zishu said, holding him back by the shoulders. "If you don't stop, we're going to have a very uncomfortable walk home."
With a smirk, Wen Kexing pulled back and tucked his hair behind his ear. In the neon glow of the city night, his flush was barely visible. "Then you should hurry and take me home, A-Xu."
Zhou Zishu did just that. It was a fifteen minute walk, but it felt longer when Zhou Zishu spent every moment of it hyperaware of Wen Kexing in his periphery, close enough to touch. He didn't let himself reach out, or even so much as look at him until he'd unlocked his front door and they were both inside his apartment, staring each other down in the dark.
This was stupid, Zhou Zishu told himself. He'd only been thinking about kissing this man for half an hour at best. There was absolutely no good reason for his racing heart, his sweating palms, or the roughness to his voice as he said, "Wen Kexing."
"A-Xu," Wen Kexing replied, and closed the distance between them.
Zhou Zishu couldn't remember the last time he'd been kissed but he was sure that whenever it was, it hadn't been anything like this. Wen Kexing's lips were warm, tasted of wine, and his kisses were just a touch too brief. It made Zhou Zishu want more, until he was pressing himself into Wen Kexing and initiating kisses instead. He could feel Wen Kexing's smile against his lips. He didn't care.
"This way," he whispered, taking Wen Kexing by the hand and guiding him through the dark apartment, to his bed.
Before Zhou Zishu could turn to face him again, Wen Kexing pulled him close and nuzzled into the nape of his neck. He pressed kisses to the sensitive skin there, like he was mapping the entire surface with his lips. Zhou Zishu could feel himself shaking. He tipped his head to the side to give Wen Kexing better access, shutting his eyes and sinking into the sensation.
"Can I?" Wen Kexing asked against Zhou Zishu's skin, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. He waited for Zhou Zishu to give him the barest nod and then he was undoing them, hands splayed over the bare skin underneath. He pulled the shirt off Zhou Zishu's shoulders entirely, letting it drop to the floor, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder blades, one on each side. "God, A-Xu, you have the most beautiful butterfly bones I've ever seen."
"Is that how you seduce everyone?" Zhou Zishu asked. "Telling them how much you like their bones?"
"You make me sound like a serial killer."
"You're doing that just fine on your own." Zhou Zishu turned in Wen Kexing's arms so that they were facing each other. "Keep going. It was working for me."
Wen Kexing laughed, pressing a light kiss to Zhou Zishu's lips and then kissing a trail down his neck, to his clavicle. He scraped his teeth against Zhou Zishu's skin, and let out an amused huff when it earned him a sharp inhale. "I thought you'd like that."
Zhou Zishu pulled Wen Kexing into a kiss that was hard and biting, until they were moaning into each other's mouths. Wen Kexing pushed Zhou Zishu onto the bed, climbing after him and reclaiming his mouth, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, then undoing his pants. Zhou Zishu knew that undressing would be a lot easier if they pulled apart, but he had no intention of doing so. Not when Wen Kexing knew how to stay just on the right side of rough. His lips felt swollen, and he was sure his skin would be littered with marks tomorrow, and he couldn't get enough.
When they were both finally naked, Wen Kexing pressed Zhou Zishu against the sheets, face down, and kissed a leisurely, torturous path down his spine. He slipped his fingers between Zhou Zishu's legs, playing with his balls and rubbing his thumb along his perineum, until he paused.
"A-Xu?"
"Ngh?" Zhou Zishu blinked blearily, trying to get his brain back online.
"Did you…?" Wen Kexing pressed his thumb into Zhou Zishu, and it slid in with barely any resistance. "You prepared yourself?"
"Oh." Zhou Zishu dropped his head on his folded arms again. "No. Yes? I just—thought you might want me to fuck you. And that was fine, but I—nngh."
"You what?" Wen Kexing pressed his thumb deeper into Zhou Zishu, to the last knuckle, and rubbed the pad of his finger back and forth. "You thought you wouldn't be satisfied? Was that it?"
Zhou Zishu clutched at the sheets, bearing back into Wen Kexing's touch. "Yes."
"You fucked yourself before you met with me."
Zhou Zishu laughed. "You sound jealous."
"Can't I be?" Wen Kexing thrust his thumb into Zhou Zishu again. "I'll fuck you better, A-Xu. I'll satisfy you."
"Do it then," Zhou Zishu urged, dizzy with how much he wanted it. "Fuck me."
Zhou Zishu woke up pleasantly sore the next morning, his skin littered with bite marks and his muscles aching. Sex with Wen Kexing had been good. The kind of good where they'd woken up in the middle of the night and done it again, and Zhou Zishu had never bothered kicking Wen Kexing out.
The bed was empty now, but the smell of cooking pulled Zhou Zishu out from under the covers. He pulled a pair of shorts on and wandered to the kitchen, where Wen Kexing was making breakfast. He was naked, and Zhou Zishu took a moment to admire the scratch marks down his back before joining him.
"You've made yourself comfortable in my kitchen."
"And you clearly haven't," Wen Kexing replied, greeting Zhou Zishu with a light kiss, like this was just a normal morning for them. "I saved the sad-looking vegetables at the bottom of your fridge before they went bad. And the last of your eggs, and the leftover rice."
Wu Xi kept pushing fresh vegetables onto Zhou Zishu, like it would make him actually use them. They usually wilted away in his fridge until he threw them out, so it was nice to have some actually being used.
“Can I do anything?”
“You can sit right here and watch me,” Wen Kexing replied, backing Zhou Zishu against the countertop and lifting him up to perch on the edge of it. “And you can tell me if this is seasoned to your liking.”
Wen Kexing dipped a finger into the sauce he was mixing, and pressed it into Zhou Zishu’s mouth. He smiled when Zhou Zishu bit him first, then sucked the sauce away.
“It’s good.”
“Isn’t it? You sit right here and I’ll be done soon.” Wen Kexing squeezed Zhou Zishu’s thigh, then retreated back to the stove.
Since he had permission to do so, Zhou Zishu watched Wen Kexing closely as he finished cooking breakfast. He’d tied his long hair into a bun, and there was clear strength in the shape of his muscles. He moved with an efficiency that Zhou Zishu liked; he knew his way around kitchens, and he was good at cooking, neither of which would be expected of a rich young heir who’d recently come into their fortune. There was more to him, and Zhou Zishu wanted to learn it all.
It was a strange thought. Zhou Zishu had spent the past few months retreating into himself, uninterested in getting involved in anyone else's lives. Jing Beiyuan was the sole reason he hadn't become entirely isolated, imposing himself on Zhou Zishu until it was easier to accept his presence than avoid it.
Wen Kexing looked up at Zhou Zishu with a smile. "You look far too lost in thought for my liking. Do I need to fix that?"
He was already walking over without waiting for a reply. Zhou Zishu spread his knees so Wen Kexing could stand between them.
"Won't you burn our food?"
"I have it under control," Wen Kexing replied against Zhou Zishu's neck before biting down.
It was easy enough to believe him and even easier not to care either way. Zhou Zishu curled his fingers into Wen Kexing's hair, tipping his head back with a sigh.
"There you go," Wen Kexing whispered, pressing a light kiss to Zhou Zishu's lips before stepping away with a smug look. "Breakfast is ready, by the way."
It took Zhou Zishu a moment to pull a coherent thought together. He scoffed, shaking his head. "You're so annoying."
Wen Kexing looked unrepentant as he plated up their food. They sat around the tiny folding table Zhou Zishu had in one corner of his apartment, eating as Wen Kexing unashamedly ran his toes back and forth along the inside of Zhou Zishu's leg. The food tasted even better than it smelled, and Wen Kexing even did the dishes after, backing Zhou Zishu against the counter again once the dishes had all been out away, sinking to his knees and tugging his shorts down.
"Right in the middle of the kitchen?" Zhou Zishu asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Do you want me to stop?" Wen Kexing asked, laughing when Zhou Zishu just pushed his head back down.
Wen Kexing's mouth was hot and tight and perfect. and perfect. He was a fucking tease—of course he was—but Zhou Zishu was in no condition to complain about it when he was too busy gasping for breath and biting back curses. Wen Kexing maintained eye contact with him the entire time, watching him slowly coming apart with his dark eyes glittering with satisfaction. Zhou Zishu was beyond shame, his gasps coming faster and louder until he was moaning and clutching at the countertop to keep himself upright as he came right down Wen Kexing's throat.
"Fuck." Zhou Zishu rested his head back against the cupboard, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath before looking down at Wen Kexing. "Get up here. Let me take care of you."
"You don't—"
"Up." Zhou Zishu pulled him up to lean against him, wrapping his fingers around Wen Kexing's flushed cock. "I've got you."
Wen Kexing clung to him, face pressed into his neck and fingers digging into his skin as he trembled his way to orgasm with a low moan of A-Xu right into Zhou Zishu's ear.
"Your hand," Wen Kexing said, taking it by the wrist. It was dripping with the mess he'd made and before Zhou Zishu could say anything, he brought it to his mouth to lick it clean.
"I could have washed it," Zhou Zishu said, a little shakily as Wen Kexing's tongue dragged across his palm. "I need a shower anyway."
Wen Kexing smiled. "Now I taste like both of us."
When Wen Kexing took a breath and opened his mouth again, Zhou Zishu knew that he was about to suggest showering together. And Zhou Zishu wanted it him to. Wanted to drag him into the shower so they could wring more pleasure from each other, and maybe lead him back to bed after that.
This was too much too fast. Zhou Zishu didn't do this. Especially not with someone he didn't even know. He needed some time to process this. Alone.
Somehow, Wen Kexing knew just what to say. He stroked his thumb over Zhou Zishu's lips, swollen and red from where he'd bitten them earlier. "I did make a mess of you, didn't I? Go ahead and shower."
Zhou Zishu nodded, retreating to the safe solitude of the shower so he could unravel in peace. It did nothing to stop him from wanting Wen Kexing in there with him, but space would fix that. Maybe if he stayed in here for long enough, Wen Kexing would just leave. But Zhou Zishu didn't want that either.
"Get your shit together," he grumbled at himself. Not that he'd succeeded in getting his shit together any time over the past few months. He was unlikely to start now.
Wen Kexing was still there when Zhou Zishu emerged from the shower. He'd tidied himself up and gotten dressed as well, back in last night's clothes, looking just as perfectly put together as he had when Zhou Zishu first stepped into the bar. It drove Zhou Zishu wild to know that despite it all, Wen Kexing's mouth would still taste like him. Like both of them.
"I should go," Wen Kexing said. "I'll be in contact later in the week to organise a time to examine the Qin family's paintings in better detail."
"Right." Zhou Zishu grimaced, walking him to the door. "I'll see you later, Wen-xiansheng."
Wen Kexing smiled at him. "See you later, A-Xu."
Zhou Zishu was still thinking about that smile hours later. He needed to drink about it, actually, and he was glad that he already had plans to go out drinking with Jing Beiyuan and Wu Xi that night. Or rather, Jing Beiyuan had made those plans immediately after setting up his date with Wen Kexing, because when he wasn't fuelled by spite he was fuelled by gossip.
"You had sex," Jing Beiyuan declared by way of greeting, when they meet up that night in their usual bar of choice that evening.
Zhou Zishu rolled his eyes, and decidedly did not tell Jing Beiyuan just how many times. "I need a drink."
"That bad?" Jing Beiyuan asked. And then, because he was a bastard who knew Zhou Zishu far too well, "Oh. That good, huh?"
"I need a drink," Zhou Zishu grumbled again, ordering himself two. He knocked one back, and took his time with the other.
"You like him?" Wu Xi asked, in that horrible straightforward way of his Zhou Zishu only liked when it wasn't directed at him. "Will you see him again?"
"We have a professional relationship." Zhou Zishu wanted to choke on his dick. "I'm sure we'll be in contact while he evaluates the art I'm trying to sell him."
"You're so boring, Zishu," Jing Beiyuan complained. "I was hoping for something good."
Wen Kexing fucked Zhou Zishu until he saw stars, then ate him out until he cried. Zishu pressed his knees together, trying to chase the memory away. "Don't hold your breath."
The conversation eventually turned to the subject of the current workplace drama happening at the hospital Wu Xi worked at, who dutifully gathered the newest developments and reported them to Jing Beiyuan because he loved to spoil his husband. Zhou Zishu was more invested in it than he'd like to admit, but maybe he was also fuelled by spite and gossip. Jing Beiyuan was a bad influence like that.
There was a break in the conversation, when Wu Xi had excused himself to the bathroom, when Zhou Zishu's eyes were drawn to the door as it opened. He felt his stomach tighten as he recognised Wen Kexing. He was dressed down from last night, in a black t-shirt and jeans that clung to him in a way that made Zhou Zishu jealous.
He didn't realise he was staring until Jing Beiyuan followed his gaze. Wen Kexing was walking towards them, a smile spreading across his lips that immediately vanished when he saw Jing Beiyuan.
"Hi! Wen Kexing, right?" Jing Beiyuan, the absolute bastard, greeted and gestured at Zhou Zishu's side of the booth. "Join us."
Wen Kexing did, pressing into Zhou Zishu's side no matter how much space he made. "And you are?"
Dying a painful death later, Zhou Zishu thought viciously. "This is Jing Beiyuan. A friend."
"A friend." Wen Kexing was staring Jing Beiyuan down.
"And this is my husband," Jing Beiyuan introduced, getting to his feet as Wu Xi returned to their table. "We were just leaving. Have a good night, Zishu."
"You—" Zhou Zishu began, but it was already too late. They were gone, and Wen Kexing turned to look at him instead, his eyebrows raised.
Zhou Zishu stared at him for a moment, until it finally occurred to him. "You're jealous."
"Yes."
"Of my friend?"
"You were sitting alone together. You looked close. I thought…"
Zhou Zishu scoffed, nudging their thighs together. "Really. After last night. This morning."
Wen Kexing placed his hand on Zhou Zishu's thigh under the table. "I didn't say I was being rational."
They were nose to nose. Zhou Zishu couldn't remember how it had happened. He took a breath and exhaled it slowly. "You've never been to this bar before. This isn't the sort of place you'd go."
Wen Kexing didn't reply, waiting silently. His soft exhales against Zhou Zishu's lips felt like torture.
"You were looking for me. How many local bars did you go to?"
"Enough of them." Wen Kexing's fingers traced Zhou Zishu's inseam. "You said see you later. I waited, didn't I?"
"You're so—" Zhou Zishu's breath hitched as Wen Kexing squeezed him through his pants.
"Yes, A-Xu?"
Zhou Zishu clamped his hand over Wen Kexing's. "Don't you dare start something you don't intend to finish."
"Well, then," Wen Kexing smiled. "You'd better take me home."
They couldn't keep their hands off each other. It had been weeks now. It was becoming a problem.
They'd fucked all over Zhou Zishu's apartment, and Wen Kexing's too. In the bathroom of a fancy restaurant, and several bars. In Wen Kexing's car.
The problem was that Zhou Zishu liked it. He liked Wen Kexing.
He especially liked the surprised and pleased look on Wen Kexing's face every time he flirted back. The way his nose crinkled when he smiled. The way he would cook entire meals for them with Zhou Zishu doing nothing more than perching on the kitchen counter and taste-testing for him.
He liked watching Wen Kexing at work, examining each piece in the Qin family's entire collection to value them, and once he'd bought it all, meticulously cataloguing it so he knew how to find each piece. He knew a lot about art, and he liked talking about it. Zhou Zishu was surprised by just how much he liked listening to it.
Weeks were turning into months. Wen Kexing had properly met Jing Beiyuan and Wu Xi, and had introduced Zhou Zishu to his sister Gu Xiang and her fiancé Cao Weining. He enjoyed seeing new sides to Wen Kexing. It felt like he could learn everything there was to learn about the man, and still want to find more.
"My parents both died when I was young," Wen Kexing told him one night, when they were lying in each other's arms. He pulled Zhou Zishu against him a little tighter. "I was raised by my aunt. She liked art. She taught me all about it. I inherited my parents' money, but that's all I have. No stories, no memories. Nothing but an empty space that I've been trying to fill. I think I finally found what I need, though."
"The Qin family's art collection," Zhou Zishu said, choosing to be deliberately obtuse because the alternative was too much.
"A-Xu," Wen Kexing scolded, biting his shoulder in punishment, which then turned into a playful scuffle, then into the desperate grind of their hips as they panted into each other's mouths.
"Lao Wen," Zhou Zishu whispered, stroking his sweat-damp hair back out of his face. "I'll cover your walls with art until you forget that they were ever bare."
They kissed each other, again and again until Zhou Zishu's mouth tasted of Wen Kexing. Until his smell was Wen Kexing's. Like his entire body was clinging to as much of Wen Kexing as it could.
This was the problem. Zhou Zishu was in love, and he hadn't loved a single thing that he hadn't also lost. He didn't even know how to say it without the words catching in his throat and refusing to make their way out.
It wasn't until they were in the Qin family home, emptier and dustier as time crept onward. Qin Juxiao's six month death anniversary was just around the corner. It felt like it had happened a lifetime ago, and just yesterday. Wen Kexing was finishing up his catalogue of the entire art collection with the key he'd devised just for them. Zhou Zishu was with him, ostensibly to let him into the house but mostly because he liked being where Wen Kexing was.
The house was quiet around them, save for the scratch of Wen Kexing's pen against paper as he finished the last of his notes.
Zhou Zishu took a deep breath and said, "Lao Wen. I inherited this house, you know."
Wen Kexing did. Zhou Zishu had already told him about how he'd grown up in this house, and how he was the only one left. Still, he stopped working, putting his things down and turning to Zhou Zishu. He waited, giving Zhou Zishu time to find the right words.
"I inherited stories. Silly stories, tragic stories, beautiful stories. I've inherited more memories than I can count. More art than I have the walls for. Too much love. Too much pain. Too much for me alone. I couldn't deal with it. Didn't want to. You know, I only ever come here when I'm with you. I couldn't stand it otherwise."
"A-Xu," Wen Kexing whispered softly, walking closer and taking his hand with a gentle squeeze.
"But it's easier with you. I want to share it with you, Lao Wen. This place doesn't have to be a place when old memories collect like dust. I feel like for the first time, I can come here and see something more than just an ending. I could fill it with new memories too. With you. I could restore this place. Bring life back into this house."
"We could," Wen Kexing said, without missing a beat. He brought Zhou Zishu's hand to his lips, kissing it. "You won't be doing it alone. I can promise you that."
Zhou Zishu kissed him, resting their foreheads together. He loved this man with a fierce kind of certainty. It was terrifying. He'd never been more sure of anything in his entire life. As if they had been made to meet, and everything that had happened in Zhou Zishu's life had turned him into just who he needed to be now. For the first time in far too long, he was content just being here in the house that he'd spent the best years of his past in, standing in the arms of the man he wanted to share his future with.
"The art—"
"Is yours," Zhou Zishu told him. "To do with as you'd like."
Wen Kexing smiled, picking up his notebook and flipping to the back of it. He showed Zhou Zishu the page, filled with a column of catalogue references in Wen Kexing's key, and descriptions beside them. Zhou Zishu recognised them all as his favourites.
"I kept these ones aside for you. In case you wanted them. And even if you didn't. There are some bare walls here that could do with some art, you know. Art that belongs on these walls." Wen Kexing nudged their shoulders together. "Like two birds in the plum blossoms. We should find a place to display it."
Zhou Zishu kissed him hard and took him by the hand. "Let me show you around properly, Lao Wen."
As their footsteps echoed through the rooms, Zhou Zishu could feel the life being breathed back into the house.