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Luo Wenzhou’s phone rang, interrupting the annoyingly calm satnav voice telling him that delays were reported—a fact pretty obvious from the crawling lines of car headlights on the curve of the highway ahead of him. Work had been long and dull, echoing the yellowish smog hanging over the city’s towers. The current case was going nowhere fast, he’d eaten unsatisfactory takeout instead of proper meals all day, and he needed to get home, shower and sleep in order to get up and do it all again tomorrow.
What he didn’t want was an unknown number calling him, since that rarely meant anything good.
“What?” he said into the phone, as the car continued to creep forward by inches.
“Is that officer Luo from the police? Luo Wenzhou? Fei Du’s, ah, friend?”
Luo Wenzhou sat up. The voice was young and anxious, and he noted the hesitation on ‘friend.’ There was some kind of background noise: music, voices, a bass beat. Shit. What was Fei Du up to?
“Yes,” he said. “What is it?”
“It’s, uh. I think Fei Du may be in trouble. He once gave me this number, so I—I thought maybe—”
Luo Wenzhou bit his lip, so that the stream of curses in his head didn’t materialize and scare off his caller. He scanned ahead for the nearest exit.
“What kind of trouble? Where is he?”
“We’re at a…a party. And he, umm. Well, there’s this guy, and I think he slipped Fei Du something, I mean, that’s kind of what it looked like, I don’t know for sure…And then, ah, they went to his hotel room—”
“You think someone drugged Fei Du and that they’re now alone with him?” Luo Wenzhou summed up. “Which hotel? Where are you?” Fuck. There was an exit leading back to the city centre coming up, but he’d need to cross four lanes of solid traffic. He hit the signal.
“I tried to stop him! And I, like, went and knocked on the door just a moment ago. But this guy, he’s not simply anyone, you see, he’s, ah, his father owns—”
“Which hotel,” Luo Wenzhou said. “And who am I speaking to.”
His caller went quiet.
“This will go very badly for you if I find these things out by other means,” Luo Wenzhou said, making no attempt at all to sound unthreatening.
“The Global Trade Hotel,” his caller said, unhappily. “The executive floor. And I’m Zhang Donglai.”
“I’m on my way,” Luo Wenzhou said, and hung up.
The hotel was only fifteen minutes away, thankfully, though it felt like fifteen hours. Luo Wenzhou didn’t bother calling ahead. If the kids of the great and good were partying there, the chances any of the hotel staff would interrupt them were slim, and he didn’t have evidence of any wrongdoing.
What kind of fucking idiot was Fei Du, that he’d let himself get into this situation? It wasn’t even that late in the evening: how long had he and his so-called friends been partying? And what kind of friend was Zhang Donglai, not to have stopped this from happening, not to mention any of Fei Du’s other rich and dim acquaintances; where the hell were they?
At least Zhang Donglai had had the good sense to call a responsible adult. When Luo Wenzhou found Fei Du, he would…
He noticed that his hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that it was almost painful, and consciously relaxed them. Fei Du would be fine. He always was. Luo Wenzhou would drag him away from partying, have some choice words with him… He’d be fine.
When he flashed his card and mentioned drugs, the receptionist paled. Before she could reach her manager, Luo Wenzhou had extracted a key card from her and was already on his way up. He caught his own reflection by accident in the mirrored walls of the lift, his face set and scared. He looked away, lifting his phone to send a voice note.
Luckily for Zhang Donglai, he picked up the note and was waiting by the lift doors, jittering and practically wringing his hands. The sound of partying drifted from the open doors behind him. Luo Wenzhou scanned him quickly: stupid Hawaiian shirt, stupid tight white trousers, a foolish amount of gold jewelry, and a hangdog expression.
“Where am I going?” Luo Wenzhou said.
“4005,” Zhang Donglai said. “Round to the right. I did knock…I couldn’t hear…” He ran a hand through his curls. “Maybe everything’s fine?” His tone suggested the exact opposite.
Luo Wenzhou didn’t bother to comment on this: he was already striding towards the room, not quite at a run.
He knocked first, a hard series of raps, but this wasn’t a situation where he was prepared to wait politely. The staff key card whirred against the lock, and he pushed the door open.
“Police,” he called, taking the two steps down the hallway and stopping short.
It was a lavish hotel room twinkling with golden lighting, with a giant king-size bed and a large sofa and chair arrangement by the floor to ceiling windows. An unknown man was sprawled on the sofa, head turning towards Luo Wenzhou, the expression on his face shifting to astonishment.
And Fei Du—Luo Wenzhou took another step into the room to verify, to be certain—Fei Du was on his knees between this stranger’s legs.
“What the fuck,” said the man. “Hey, you can’t just!” He shoved Fei Du, not gently, and scrambled to do up his pants.
Fei Du fell sideways inelegantly, fumbling to catch himself on the side of the sofa. Luo Wenzhou’s stomach clenched: Zhang Donglai had been right. Something was off.
“I’m a police officer,” he said, holding up his ID. “I’ve had reports of drug use.” And sexual assault, he wanted to add, but the words wouldn’t come out. “Stay where you are,” he added, as the man started to stand. He slumped back into the cushions, his eyes widening.
Fei Du was leaning against the side of the sofa, staring at Luo Wenzhou. He wiped his mouth off casually with his sleeve.
“Captain Luo,” he said, blinking. “What are you doing here?”
Luo Wenzhou bit back several answers to that. “Stand up,” he told Fei Du.
Fei Du managed to lever himself upright, but he was visibly swaying a little, and his gaze was unfocused. His glasses were missing, and his hair falling loose. He was wearing a pale grey silk shirt which was entirely unbuttoned and hanging open. Luo Wenzhou noted with something like relief that his pants were still fastened. His mouth was very red.
“I don’t need you,” he told Luo Wenzhou. “I’m fine.”
Luo Wenzhou reached out and held his chin, studying his eyes. His pupils were blown. He checked his forehead, which felt hot, and clammy. Fei Du was blinking rapidly, and he briefly felt the flutter of his eyelashes, against his hand.
“What have you taken?” he asked. He looked at the man on the sofa, meaningfully.
“Nothing,” Fei Du said. “I mean, vodka.”
“You’re drugged.” Luo Wenzhou let go of Fei Du, and then grabbed his arm when he swayed even more alarmingly. “What has he taken?”
The man on the sofa, who was about the same age as Fei Du and almost as good-looking, though his hair was dyed an unwise blond, shrugged, unconvincingly.
“Nothing! I don’t know why you’re harassing us like this. Wait till I tell my father—”
Luo Wenzhou manhandled Fei Du into an armchair, and then loomed over the sofa.
“Drugging someone,” he said, flat. “Assault. Again, what has he taken.”
“What do you mean, assault—we were just fucking, right, Fei Du? You wanted it, you said so.”
“I don’t care what he said. He’s drugged and I have a witness saying you slipped him something. So tell me right now, or…” Luo Wenzhou found himself almost vibrating with the need to punch this guy—to break his nose, leave him bloodied and crying. With a substantial effort, he held himself back.
Perhaps the effort was obvious, since the man on the sofa shrank back into the cushions.
“It was only for fun,” he said, almost whining. “Nothing serious. Just some GHB. Only to help the party along. What difference does it make?”
The sensible police part of Luo Wenzhou’s brain was telling him that it would be very difficult to make any charge stick. That Zhang Donglai would be a terrible and unreliable witness; that Fei Du would definitely also be unhelpful and possibly outright deny anything had happened; and that this bastard’s parents, whoever they were, would be down at the station kicking up a fuss before Luo Wenzhou got there himself.
It didn’t stop him from wanting to haul this piece of filth, who had dared to touch Fei Du, off in handcuffs.
“Get out,” he said, before he did something very unwise that would tank his whole police career. “And if I ever hear of anything like this again, or if you’re even in the same room as Fei Du, I will hear about it, and I will come for you. Do you understand me?”
He stepped back, his arms folded, and watched as the man scrambled for the door, without even giving Fei Du a backward glance.
“Very rude of you,” Fei Du said, as the door slammed behind him. “Don’t you know who his parents are?”
“You little—” Luo Wenzhou turned, and Fei Du smiled up at him, a smile with almost no edge. Luo Wenzhou revised his assessment of Fei Du’s sobriety even further downwards.
“Shit,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair. Fei Du had slid down in the armchair. He looked very beautiful, extremely dissolute, and far too unconcerned about all aspects of this situation.
“We should go to the hospital, look at you,” Luo Wenzhou said. Though then it might be on Fei Du’s record, and he wasn’t sure how he’d explain their relationship if he wasn’t saying he was police.
Fei Du tilted his head, frowning slightly. “GHB. Ah. Like floating. It’s not…” He seemed to lose track for a moment. “Not unpleasant.” There was a very slight slur to his words, which might not have been noticeable if you didn’t know him well. He studied Luo Wenzhou. “You look. Very…shiny. Around the edges, it’s…” He waved a hand dismissively, and then turned his fingers through the air, his attention caught. “All fine. It’s fine. This wears off.”
Luo Wenzhou sat down heavily on the sofa, suppressing a lot of questions about how Fei Du might know about the effect of various drugs. He looked around the room. “Where are your glasses?”
Fei Du considered this for a while. “Bathroom, probably. We were looking for condoms.”
Luo Wenzhou winced. He was not enjoying this Fei Du. He was too—too unguarded, peeled out of his armour, softer than usual. And he was definitely not enjoying the thought of what might have happened if he had been a little further down the highway, and not made it here so fast. His stomach was still tight with fear, his pulse not quite settled.
What Fei Du would think when he came out of this, he couldn’t tell. The chances he would be happy that Luo Wenzhou had witnessed this seemed pretty low, however.
“It would be good, fucking like this,” Fei Du said, dreamily. “More colours.” His gaze slid to Luo Wenzhou, and over him, thoughtfully and with an intent that Luo Wenzhou wished he couldn’t read.
“No, it would not.” Luo Wenzhou stood up. “I’ll get your glasses and some water.”
Toiletries were scattered on the bathroom floor; Fei Du’s glasses discarded carelessly by the sink. Luo Wenzhou ran the tap, and splashed cold water on his face. In this mirror, he looked older, and haunted.
The hotel’s complimentary water bottles sat in a corner. Fei Du condescended to sit up in the chair and drink part of one, making a face at Luo Wenzhou’s insistence, and to put his glasses back on. Luo Wenzhou breathed a little easier, as Fei Du pushed them up his nose.
“Did you want to have sex with that boy?” he found himself asking, without really intending to.
Fei Du lifted a shoulder. “Not especially.” He sounded slightly more sober. “I’ve met him before. Good-looking. But. Very stupid.”
“Did you come here with him of your own free will, or not, then?” Luo Wenzhou heard the slightly belligerent tone he used to interrogate tricky witnesses, and hoped Fei Du didn’t.
“I don’t remember,” Fei Du said, vaguely. He looked around the room as though seeing it for the first time. “I might have. Where are we again?”
Maybe not more sober. Luo Wenzhou rubbed a hand over his face. He was too tired for this.
“When I came in…” he said.
“Mmm. I like it a little rough, but not with him.” Fei Du frowned at whatever expression Luo Wenzhou made at that. “Though it’s not a big deal. Really. I feel fine.”
“It is a big deal. If someone hurts you.”
Fei Du made a noise that sounded like dissent. Luo Wenzhou sighed. He considered his options. He wanted to get Fei Du out of this room, somewhere more—somewhere safer. But he couldn’t envisage taking Fei Du to the chill marble of his so-called home. And he wasn’t entirely sure that it was a good idea to have a high Fei Du, talking about sex, in his own home, for reasons that he wasn’t going to explore right now.
He took out his phone. As so often with Fei Du, the best idea was to call in backup.
“Tao Ran,” he said, when Tao Ran answered, sounding sleepy and resigned. “We need your help.”
Getting Fei Du’s shirt buttoned— he couldn’t do it himself, so Luo Wenzhou had to help, trying and failing not to be aware that he was brushing Fei Du’s heated skin—and then hauling him out of the hotel, into the car, and up the stairs to Tao Ran’s apartment was more of a trial than he’d expected.
Fei Du couldn’t walk in a straight line, or barely at all. Luo Wenzhou had to get an arm round him, which left him with Fei Du warm and leaning against him. High Fei Du was also apparently handsy, meaning that Luo Wenzhou had to simultaneously prop him up and try to remove a wandering hand from trailing down his back.
Thank god they didn’t meet any of the party kids on the way to the lift, where Fei Du leaned barely upright against the wall and gazed at Luo Wenzhou, reflected through the mirrors, for forty floors straight down, his eyes half-lidded.
In the car, he started a running commentary on the bright lights and how pretty they were, and then moved on to how hot it was, unbuttoning his shirt again while Luo Wenzhou stared grimly ahead at the road and turned up the aircon.
At least Tao Ran was waiting for them outside, so that they could take an arm each.
“Thanks for this,” Luo Wenzhou said. His back hurt: Fei Du had gone heavy and limp near the top of the stairs, and was now passed out on Tao Ran’s couch. Tao Ran had taken off his glasses and shoes, and was tucking a blanket round him.
“No problem.” Tao Ran let a hand rest on Fei Du’s head, with affection and grief in his face. “Are we going to find whoever did this to him?”
Luo Wenzhou wanted to say yes, very badly.
“Only if he asks us to,” he said instead.
Tao Ran yawned. “I’ll sit up with him, just in case. You go home, feed Luo Yiguo, get some sleep.”
Luo Wenzhou nodded. “Keep me posted. And come into work late, I’ll cover for you.”
“Sure.” Tao Ran was already sinking into a chair, reaching for a book. Luo Wenzhou watched the shock of dark hair under the blanket for another minute, and then he did leave.
“I owe you a debt for your assistance yesterday, I believe,” Fei Du said, at his most patrician. He was standing very straight and, Luo Wenzhou noticed, wearing a full three-piece suit with tie, shirt buttoned to the neck.
It had been another very long day, made longer by Luo Wenzhou having tossed and turned all night in fitful, and sometimes heated, dreams. He’d kept waking up, to check his phone for news. And though Tao Ran had been reassuring when he finally made it in, Luo Wenzhou had still messaged Fei Du at intervals throughout the day, with increasing worry and irritation.
And to zero response, which was why it was still more irritating to emerge from work and find Fei Du standing by Luo Wenzhou’s car.
“Did you want to press charges?” Luo Wenzhou said, too tired to be tactful. He regretted it when Fei Du flinched, very slightly.
“No,” Fei Du said, recovering. “It would be a waste of time. As you already know.” He raised his chin. “I’m sorry you were inconvenienced. I didn’t remember that I had given Zhang Donglai your number. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Just as well you had. If he hadn’t called me, then—”
“Then I would have had a night of mediocre sex that I didn’t remember the next day.” Fei Du’s lips curled. He wasn’t meeting Luo Wenzhou’s eyes. “Worse things have happened.”
Luo Wenzhou opened his mouth to scold Fei Du like he would an unruly kitten, and then remembered that Fei Du was the victim in this situation and shut it again. He didn’t have the heart to get into their usual barbed banter, not today.
“You need to take better care of yourself,” he said instead, bluntly.
“I’ll be more careful in future. It was unforgivable not to realise my drink had been spiked.”
Not quite what I meant, Luo Wenzhou thought about saying. But nothing was going to persuade today’s Fei Du, with all his defences arranged in glittering array, that others cared about what happened to him, and worried for him.
“You can call me—us—anytime,” he said instead. “I’ll give your friends my number myself, if it’s any fucking help.”
Fei Du smiled a very wintry smile, and pulled his suit jacket closer around him. “Not necessary. I appreciate the thought.” He turned to go.
“Fei Du,” Luo Wenzhou called after him, and Fei Du stopped, without turning round.
“I’m glad you’re OK. Reply to my messages next time, brat, will you?”
Fei Du raised a hand, in acknowledgement or contempt, and kept walking, perfectly balanced and the very model of a young, prosperous executive.
Something in Luo Wenzhou’s chest ached. He shook his head, to dispel it.
“Kids these days,” he said to no-one, and opened his car door.