Xue Bao Tian had a forbidding face. When he went expressionless, there was always a trace of casual malice about him.
The young man standing in front of him looked uneasy. Everyone in the nightlife scene knew the Xue family’s young master was not into men, yet the moment he sat down today, he had specifically called for him. He was not asked to pour drinks or serve him in any way—just made to stand there in the middle of the room for no apparent reason, which somehow brought back unpleasant memories of vice-squad raids.
“So you’re the top escort here?” Xue Bao Tian looked him over critically. “Turn around. Let me see.”
The young man obediently turned in a circle, carrying himself with practiced grace.
Fair-skinned, young, slim, with some flesh on his ass—judging him by the same standards he used for women, Xue Bao Tian found him acceptable.
“How much for a monthly arrangement?”
“You want to keep me, Master Xue?”
“Cut the fucking crap. Name your price.”
The young man quoted a figure. “Anything extra depends on Master Xue’s generosity.”
A faint, cold curve appeared at the corner of Xue Bao Tian’s mouth, a smile that never reached his eyes. “Go wash off the makeup before you come back to negotiate. I can keep you in style, but don’t start thinking you’re some big star.” One arm rested on his knee, his fingers tapping lightly as he spoke in a lazy voice. “We’ll go by nightclub rates. Do a good job, and Master Xue will naturally reward you.”
This was Xue Bao Tian’s first time hiring a male escort. The other man could not figure out what he was after and was understandably wary. “Whatever Master Xue says. It’s just… Master Xue, I don’t take anything too extreme.”
Xue Bao Tian spent enough time in nightlife venues to immediately understand what he meant. He thought about Zhang Chi’s style in bed—maybe not outright violent, but absolutely rough and fierce. For once, the usually unflappable Xue Bao Tian hesitated before asking, “What exactly counts as ‘too extreme’ for you?”
The male escort: “…”
After hesitating several times, Xue Bao Tian finally stepped into the sheet-metal workers’ shed again. It looked exactly as he remembered: eight bunk beds and a crude table crammed into the tiny room, bedding in disarray, playing cards scattered across the tabletop. Only the bed in the corner was relatively clean and tidy—the same bed where, a few months ago, Xue Bao Tian had been flipped back and forth like a fish in a frying pan.
He immediately looked away and took out his irritation on the person behind him. “Why aren’t you coming in? Need a sedan chair to carry you?”
The male escort Xue Bao Tian had hired only yesterday hesitated before stepping into the prefab room. The moment his foot touched the floor, he covered his nose and could not help complaining, “Master Xue, what kind of client did you find for me?”
Xue Bao Tian felt a little guilty and coughed twice. “The job isn’t great, but the guy… looks pretty good. It’s not like you’re spending the rest of your life with him. You’re getting paid—what difference does it make whose bed you lie in?”
“That’s true, Master Xue. My line of work doesn’t exactly let me be picky, but I worked damn hard to become the top escort. I shouldn’t be taking the same kind of clients as streetwalkers, should I?”
Xue Bao Tian took another look at the state of the shed and felt somewhat apologetic. “I’ll add another twenty percent. Call it hardship pay.”
He made a show of looking outside and complained, “Why isn’t he back yet?”
When they first entered the construction site, Xue Bao Tian had grabbed a construction worker and asked where Zhang Chi was. After learning he was still on shift, Xue Bao Tian pulled out a large bill and handed it over. “Go get him for me. Tell him… his grandpa’s here.”
Seeing no one in the distance, Xue Bao Tian was beginning to grow restless when the male escort beside him asked nosily, “Master Xue, what’s your relationship with this guy? You’re even arranging… this kind of bed business for him?”
Xue Bao Tian slowly turned his head and stared at him. “You from Dunhuang or something? You sure have a lot of murals.”
Elio’s Notes: Dunhuang is famous for the murals of the Mogao Caves. Xue Bao Tian twists that association into a joke about the escort having far too much to say about other people’s business.
Before the other man could react, the shed door opened. Zhang Chi stepped in from outside, tall and powerfully built, with a wave of cool air following him in and dispersing some of the unpleasant smell inside. He was dressed in work clothes and covered in dust, his safety helmet pulled low enough to hide his brows and eyes, leaving only the sharp line of his jaw visible. He had the kind of build that made even rough workwear look good; the tightly fastened belt and rolled sleeves gave him an agile, rugged sexiness, while the faint muscle lines revealed by his movements and his sturdy forearms—looking as though they could unleash astonishing strength at any moment—added a rough, formidable sense of pressure.
He removed his helmet, picked up what looked like the cleanest enamel mug from the crude table, and gulped down several mouthfuls of water. Only after easing some of the heat from his hard labor did he cast a glance toward Xue Bao Tian.
“I heard my grandpa was looking for me?” Perhaps because he had not spoken for a while, his voice was as rough as gravel underfoot at a construction site. “Where is he?”
Xue Bao Tian refused to yield an inch, leaning crookedly against the table. “You won’t lose out by calling me Master Xue. If Grandpa has something good, of course he thinks of you.”
Zhang Chi did not take Xue Bao Tian’s nonsense to heart. He poured water into the plastic basin by the door and bent over to wash his face, asking almost casually between splashes, “What good thing?”
Xue Bao Tian pushed the male escort forward and lifted his chin. “How about him? I’m giving him to you as a wife.”
Zhang Chi froze, then finally looked at the young man beside Xue Bao Tian. After giving him a light once-over, he asked again, “Giving me what?”
“A wife. Not bad, right?” Xue Bao Tian stuck a cigarette between his lips and patted the man beside him. “Call him Brother Zhang.”
The male escort had never won the lottery, but at that moment he felt something close to the same surprise. Still, he had seen enough of the world to understand that cash in hand was more reliable than a lover at your side, so he remained very concerned about this Brother Zhang’s actual circumstances.
As a result, he was not particularly respectful, merely smiling faintly as he echoed, “Brother Zhang.”
Seeing Zhang Chi stare at the escort’s face for quite a while, the tension in Xue Bao Tian’s chest finally eased. Feeling certain he had this in the bag, he nudged Zhang Chi with his foot. “How about we talk cooperation?”
Zhang Chi withdrew his gaze, picked up the basin, opened the door, tossed out the wash water, then came back in and closed it. “I’m a little tired today. Can we talk another day?” He rummaged beneath his bed and pulled out a towel and a bar of soap. “I’m going to shower. Make yourselves at home.”
Knowing Zhang Chi was being maddeningly wishy-washy, Xue Bao Tian snapped impatiently, “If you’ve got something to say, say it. Stop going around in circles.”
Zhang Chi casually picked up a change of clothes. As he passed Xue Bao Tian on his way out, he ruffled his hair, his voice so soft it was nearly a sigh. “Stop messing around, Two Hundred.”
“Fuck you!”
Xue Bao Tian followed him out of the shed step for step, asking, “Why not? He’s fair and tender, and I’m giving him to you for free. You still don’t want him?”
Zhang Chi draped the towel over his shoulder and reached over to take the cigarette from Xue Bao Tian’s mouth. “No smoking at the construction site.”
Xue Bao Tian could not be bothered arguing about that; he only wanted an answer. “Then why the hell were you staring at him just now?”
Zhang Chi said quietly, “He was wearing makeup, right? I’ve never seen a man wearing makeup before.” Xue Bao Tian paused, then looked at him with disgust. “Everything you’ve seen in your entire life could fit on one sheet of toilet paper.”
Still unwilling to give up, he continued his sales pitch. “Next time I’ll have him come without makeup.”
They reached the bathhouse. Zhang Chi stopped, bent slightly, and leaned close to Xue Bao Tian. In the gentlest voice imaginable, he said the crudest thing. “He’s too slutty. I don’t like it.”
Xue Bao Tian immediately backed away. “Talk if you’re going to talk. Stay the fuck away from me!”
Zhang Chi caught him with one hand and pulled him back, calling softly, “Two Hundred.”
Xue Bao Tian eyed him warily. “What?”
“Don’t shout in a minute.”
“What the hell do you mean?!”
“Since you followed me all the way here”—Zhang Chi rolled the bar of soap once in his hand—“keep me company while I shower.”
Xue Bao Tian struggled backward in alarm, but he was no match for Zhang Chi’s strength. Zhang Chi swept him into his arms, covered his mouth, and half dragged, half carried him into the bathhouse.
The construction site had only a communal bathhouse: one large rectangular room divided into crude stalls by low cement walls. There were walls, but no doors—rough and completely open.
Thanks to his “grandpa,” Zhang Chi had gotten off work early today. At the moment, the only people in the bathhouse were him and the man bent over in front of him.
Hot water poured straight down. Xue Bao Tian could barely open his eyes. His mouth was still covered, and his body drifted like a leaf caught in swirling water, his legs too weak to hold him steady, forcing him to brace both hands against the white tiles.
It became unbearable. The little anger left in his chest had already been worn away, leaving only helpless compromise. He lightly licked the palm covering his mouth, the gesture carrying a trace of pleading.
Zhang Chi understood. He leaned close and kissed beside his ear several times before murmuring, “Be good, and I’ll let you go.”
When Xue Bao Tian nodded, the hand gripping his cheeks slowly loosened, then slid downward and tightened again around his neck.
Xue Bao Tian immediately went back on his word. The instant his mouth was free, he cursed, “Zhang Chi, you fucking mad dog!”
“Keep your voice down. Curse me however you want.”
“Fuck you. I can’t fucking keep it down.”
Zhang Chi laughed, and the vibration in his chest only made things harder for Xue Bao Tian. “Everyone’s getting off work soon. They’ll all come shower.”
“Perfect. Let every single one of them know you, Zhang Chi, are a fucking rapist. I’ll have you dragged straight to the police station!”
The moment the words left his mouth, voices came from the outer part of the bathhouse in twos and threes. The construction workers’ rough, booming voices echoed around the enclosed room, making the noise sound even more chaotic.
Xue Bao Tian instantly went rigid. He turned his head and stared at Zhang Chi in alarm. Zhang Chi smiled, kissed him over the eyes, and reminded him, “Two Hundred, you can shout now.”
“…Zhang Chi… do you have no shame?” Perhaps it was the steam, but Xue Bao Tian’s eyes were slightly red.
Zhang Chi paused, then drew him closer. “Don’t be afraid, Two Hundred.” After thinking for a moment, he added, “I’m begging you. Please don’t shout.”
“You’re the one begging me.”
“Yes.”
“…Fine. I agree.”
“Thank you.”
“Someone’s coming in!”
“Almost…”
“Fuck!”
The damp curtain was lifted, and several construction workers entered the bathhouse. Looking up and seeing Zhang Chi, they greeted him. “You’re early today, Chi.”
“Mm. Got off work early.”
“Heard your grandpa came to see you? Hey, who’s that in the stall beside you? Don’t think I’ve seen him before.”
Zhang Chi had barely started to answer when Xue Bao Tian cut him off. “I’m his grandpa. His generation is lower—he was born destined to be a grandson.”