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The first time Luo Binghe could put a face to his stalker was at his wife’s funeral.
It wasn’t raining, like they always had the funerals in the movies, or drenched in the decadent sunshine that shone over the dark wood coffin. There was no coffin. She had been cremated, her body too disfigured after the accident. The sky was a blinding silver, trying in vain to shine through the solid cloud cover. Luo Binghe had spoken during the service, her parents had cried through their speeches. Her box of ashes was surrounded in flowers, then ceremoniously placed in the columbarium. Luo Binghe took a bouquet of lilies with him during the clean up.
He stood off to the side as her parents spoke with some guests in hushed whispers. He held the bouquet, trying not to strangle the gentle stems with his shaking hands. He did not cry during the service, had already cried so much it hurt to do it anymore. It’s when he finally notices him when things start to make sense.
He stood off to the side, a long black car coat over his fitted suit. He was dressed impeccably for the funeral, somber black tie and his head bowed as he spoke in whispers to funeral attendants. He blended right into the crowd of mourners. But Luo Binghe knew the weight of that stare. Had been searching for it all day.
In the wake of his wife’s sudden death, he found his greatest comfort in the eyes of his stalker. Green, a glassy kind of sea green that looked almost gray in the somber light. Their eyes met for the first time and Luo Binghe was frozen stiff as the man nodded, smile slipping from the tight, formal grimace to something so soft and sweet it made Luo Binghe melt.
This man had been stalking him for an uncertain amount of time. He noticed it almost a year ago, shortly after his wife's marriage. The man was thorough, his reach far, and by the shine of his dress shoes and the glint of the Patek Philippe on his wrist, he had the resources to do anything he wanted.
They didn’t speak to each other at the funeral. But their eyes had and Luo Binghe left wondering if the rapid beating of his heart was true fear.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
The second time he met his stalker was at a coffee shop. Luo Binghe worked across the street in the office building his father owned and this is where he would slink off to when he didn’t want to deal with the office break room. They had delicious coffee and the best croissants, one of the few places he bothered eating out at because the owner knew what she was doing with her food.
The man was in there already, sitting at a corner table by the window with a shiny MacBook out and a porcelain cup of cappuccino next to him. He was settled into the seat, his long wool coat neatly laid over the back of the chair and his hair pulled back into a clean ponytail. His sage green shirt was stylish and loose, the top two buttons undone to show his pale collarbones. His long legs wrapped up in designer jeans were crossed at the ankle with his leather Chelsea boots. Luo Binghe tried not to look, but he was so handsome it was hard to keep himself from peeking. He took a table twp spots away with his croissant sandwich and flat white.
From here, he couldn’t see the man’s laptop screen. He was angled away, facing the rest of the coffee shop from his corner, but there was a notebook with neat script Luo Binghe could barely make out if he craned his head.
Providence, Dubai, Al Qasr were a couple of key words he could spy from a distance. Shockingly, he realized that it was his schedule: his lunch with a client, his flight to Dubai for a conference, the hotel he was staying at, the return flight, and everything before and after. The man tapped around on his laptop then added a new event— the gala he was attending at the end of the month.
The smart thing to do was to snatch the notebook and report this man to the police. Luo Binghe had influence, but this man did too judging by the ease he had at accessing Luo Binghe’s schedule from a coffee shop.
Luo Binghe decided to leave it at that. As long as this guy didn’t do anything, gave no reason to call anyone on him, then he could let him be. Luo Binghe was a celebrity in his own right, his name popping up in news articles. This man could just be a really dedicated fan. It’s not like all of his affairs were secret.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
It had been a political marriage, more for building ties between companies, than any actual romance. Luo Binghe had tried to make the best of it, treating it like a genuine marriage and his wife with all the love and respect he could muster. He did not mind living amicably with her for the rest of the life, raising a kid or two, and simply divorcing once they got tired of each other.
There were too many bouquets to count that had been sent to his home and office. After the funeral, more had come in, endless supplies of cards and letters from people he hardly spoke to, on either side of their families.
Luo Binghe was sifting through these stacks and stacks of cards, many of the flowers having long since wilted and been tossed into the compost, when he found a little white card, having come attached to a bouquet of elegant white calla lilies, that simply said “My heart breaks for your loss”.
No name, only a number and the name of the company who sent the flowers. A luxury brand of floral arrangement. The vase of the flowers that had come in was white and trimmed in gold, and it now sat in his cabinet along with the rest of his new vases.
He kept the card on top of his nightstand, wondering if the stalker would give him his name one day.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
Luo Binghe shouldn’t have been surprised to see the stalker at the charity gala, not when he had his notebook with everything Luo Binghe did written in it. He spotted him from across the grand ballroom when the crowd momentarily parted. A deep emerald suit, gold collar chains on his sleek black shirt, his hair twisted back artfully into a low ponytail that hung down his back, the flute of bubbling champagne as he talked with a group of gala attendants.
Because he attended the gala, it would be easy to find him now.
They momentarily locked eyes during some speeches. He raised his champagne toward Luo Binghe in a toast and took a sip.
His secretary forwarded him a list of all the donors for the gala the following Monday per his request. There were a dozen or so donors, but then one name in his search popped up with a very familiar face attached to it.
Shen Qingqiu of Cang Qiong Mountain school board, a current professor at the university, and a politician. He was ten years Luo Binghe’s senior, unmarried, and had a number of academic essays on old literature.
He saved the snapshot from his website, of him sitting serenely in a black sweater with a white collar peeking out of the top. He then spent the next couple of evenings reading his essays as bedtime reading.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
Shen Qingqiu must know that Luo Binghe was aware of him. From the funeral onward, he kept catching glimpses of the elusive man. It was like he wanted Luo Binghe to see him. After however long he’d been secretly stalking Luo Binghe, it was now when he was widowed did Shen Qingqiu finally show his face. To wait? Set up an “organic” meeting and slip himself into Luo Binghe’s life?
Not if Luo Binghe moved first.
The man was at the coffee shop again, his hair twisted back into an intricate knot at the base of his neck and held together with a jade white pin. He was very beautiful, ethereal with the early morning light shining on him from the wide coffee shop windows. He stirred his matcha latte idly, a book of poetry in his lap. It was crowded in the shop, the sight of him disappearing and reappearing from his line of sight as people moved in and out of his way.
Luo Binghe used this to his advantage. To confront his stalker, he needed to firmly tell him to fuck off or he will get the authorities involved.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” Luo Binghe asked, pointing to the empty chair across from Shen Qingqiu.
“Not at all.” Shen Qingqiu moved his computer bag closer to make room for Luo Binghe’s legs. The cafe was busy, but half the tables were unoccupied, everyone moving in and out for a quick morning fix than to stay and enjoy their coffee. He stirred his cappuccino idly, waiting for his croissant sandwich to be called.
“A collection of Du Fu poems?” Luo Binghe noted.
“For classes, yes.”
“You’re a classic literature professor at Cang Qiong University, teaching both lower and upper level students. You moved here from Guangzhou five years ago, and two years ago you became the youngest school board member. You have a PhD in classical literature and a bachelors in ancient mythology. You have not married, dated, or even had an arranged agreement with anyone, living alone in a house in the suburbs. You have a handful of friends and have a secret side gig editing for Zhongdian xianxia novels. On Wednesdays, you have tea with Liu Qingge, a kinesiology professor also from Cang Qiong.”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t move during Luo Binghe’s whole spiel, his eyes frozen on the page he was reading. When he didn’t respond, Luo Binghe continued. “I only want to know why you’re following me.”
Shen Qingqiu snapped his book shut and rearranged himself from his lounge to sit properly, facing Luo Binghe. His mouth was a steely line. “I only want what’s best for you.”
“How would you know what’s best for me?” Luo Binghe shot back. “I don’t even know you.”
Shen Qingqiu sighed, a world-deep, weary breath. “You should, but you don’t. It’s not my place to tell you, especially after everything you’ve been through. If you don’t remember, there is probably a reason.”
He rose to his feet, ignoring the last mouthful of his now cold matcha latte, and gathering his things. “I only wish to protect you, make sure you live a long, happy life; the life you’ve always deserved. I do not intend to bring you harm.”
Luo Binghe snapped to his feet, blocking his exit. “What should I know? You didn’t answer my question. Who are you really and why are you doing this?”
“I told you. It’s not my place to say. You know me, don’t you? Now please, I have a class to teach.”
No he didn’t, he was free the rest of the day and didn’t have to teach again until the following morning. Luo Binghe stepped aside and let him pass, then watched him leave through the cafe windows, walking briskly down the sidewalk.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
When Luo Binghe was born, he had been abandoned. His mother had died during childbirth and there were no family or friends to take him. The foster system was a nightmare and one woman took him in, despite not being eligible to adopt. No matter how many years of care she put into him, how much she loved him in return, the system would not let her keep him.
When she fell too sick to take care of him further, he was dragged from her home and dropped back into the system.
These years were a blank to him. Too much happened: abuse, neglect, assault, bullying, a kidnapping attempt, a fire. It was a blur, mostly to protect himself once he reached a certain age, he shut down everything in his memories between the ages of eight and seventeen.
At eighteen, his father found him. He had been kindly booted from the system officially and made to work three jobs so he can keep his shitty room in a hostel. He had a backpack and a trash bag with all his belongings in his locker at work. There was no chance he would ever go to college.
It was by some miracle his father had awoken from a coma and had immediately asked about his fiancée, Luo Binghe’s mother, and found her grave. Then he found Luo Binghe scrubbing floors at a mall. This was his first clear memory that wasn’t a haze of emotions and words he could recite. His boss called him to the main office, where he showed up smelling like cleaner and mall restrooms. A man who had eyes like him wearing a black on black suit greeted him, introduced himself as his father, and asked for Luo Binghe to come home with him.
After that, he experienced his first fine dining, touched silk, was sent to school in business and economics, and never had to clean another toilet again. Luo Binghe was a rising star riding on his father’s coattails and he thanked every star in the sky he could now move his foster mother to a proper cemetery. His biological mother’s cremated remains were moved to his father’s family memorial site.
He had a home, a car (a license to drive!), a high paying job where he could travel for work and travel for pleasure. He ate good food every day with the best ingredients, he wore nice clothes that fit him just right, and he slept in a comfortable, warm bed that was actually his and not borrowed, rented, earned. He now had too many things to fit inside a crummy backpack and trash bag.
He had had a wife, from an arranged marriage, but nonetheless he would do anything to keep his comfortable and luxurious life. It wasn’t like he wasn’t allowed to say no to the whole affair— the benefits outweigh the negatives and neither truly loved each other but were good enough friends to have a permanent relationship like this.
When she died, when Luo Binghe saw Shen Qingqiu, he wondered if there was a puzzle piece he was missing.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
Shen Qingqiu briefly lived in Chongqing fifteen years ago, down the street from Luo Binghe’s school when he was at the orphanage. It was during that blank period of time Luo Binghe could not remember; the abuse and neglect was too extreme. Shen Qingqiu, a young college student at the time, might have taken pity on the poor orphan boy… and did what?
He saw Shen Qingqiu at the market, specifically the corner store Luo Binghe liked to regular because the aunties always had new recipes for him to try and they had the freshest seasonal fruit. Shen Qingqiu lived halfway across the city— he had no reason to be at this specific little market. He had a basket in the crook of his elbow, dressed down in a soft Henley and loose jeans. He was examining baskets of strawberries.
“These ones are good.” Luo Binghe plucked a basket of brilliant red strawberries from the pile and tucked them into Shen Qingqiu’s basket. There were packets of instant noodles, instant soup, tofu, a head of scallions, chips, and a large container of milk candy. “Do you cook?”
“Ah, thank you. Hello, no, I don’t really cook very often. I mostly order out or make noodles if I don’t feel like waiting for food to come. I sometimes add other things to my noodles so I don’t feel so terrible afterwards.”
“A shame. Everyone should know how to cook at least a little bit, or have someone with them who knows how to cook.”
“You know how to cook. What’s your favorite thing to make?”
“Congee, but I love eating hot pot.”
“Let’s go have some hot pot, my treat, then you can show me how you cook congee.”
Luo Binghe froze. Shen Qingqiu was already backtracking. “I mean, if you like, it would be nice to have hot pot with friends, and I know you’re a good cook but, you know I—“
“Sure,” Luo Binghe agreed. He had… already been thinking of inviting Shen Qingqiu over to eat his food. They did have a past, their paths had crossed years ago, and Luo Binghe wanted to link that connection. “Are you free tonight?”
Shen Qingqiu jolted a bit in shock. Wide eyed, he nodded. Cute. “I know a good hot pot place.”
They got hot pot at this lovely hole in the wall tucked away in some parking lot where Luo Binghe would have never looked. The meat was tender and fresh, the broth delicious, and the veggies crisp and fresh. Shen Qingqiu nibbled on his cube of tofu soaked and steaming from the broth, his hair tied back out of the way so he could eat with gusto. He talked to the server by name, herself recognizing him and having easy, familiar conversation with him as she dropped off their plates of meats and vegetables.
The wine was good, Shen Qingqiu had a hot tea and a tall glass of water to offset the flush to his cheeks from the boiling pot and the fragrant wine. He spoke easily, of his job and the things he liked to do in his free time, and in turn asked Luo Binghe loads of questions no amount of stalking could retrieve.
This was… a date? No, he was still in mourning from his wife. This was a nice evening out with supposedly a new friend. Yet he could not help but notice how his long lashes graced his high cheekbones, the redness of his lips, the softness to his voice, the kindness in the way he spoke about his students.
He didn’t get a chance to see the bill. As Shen Qingqiu promised, he quickly tapped his phone to pay and offered to even call for a DiDi to take Luo Binghe home.
They exchanged numbers. He did not get a chance to ask about Chongqing, thus would need to invite him to dinner to thoroughly dig for information in the privacy of his home.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
On Saturday, after Shen Qingqiu finished work at the university, he came to Luo Binghe’s for dinner. The penthouse was cleaned to a sparkling shine, the city skyline starting to glitter as the gold sunset bathed the chrome and leather home. He didn’t keep his home personal anymore, not since the death of his wife and moving here to completely separate himself from the grief. He preferred to keep himself separate from belongings. Her things had been taken by her relatives, him only keeping their rings and a few measly pictures. It’s not that he never loved her, it’s just that he never had time to grow to love her as his wife and felt more of the sadness from what it could have been than from what they had been.
The kitchen was his haven and where he spent the most time out of the office, anyway. There was no reason to have a personal home when he cooked in all of his free time. As long as he had the best appliances and the best ingredients, he was fine being in this impersonal home.
He didn’t know what to cook, so he cooked too much. Mapo tofu, kung pao chicken, twice cooked pork, steamed fish with ginger, char sui, luohan prawns, and stir-fried noodles. He, admittedly, went a little overboard with all the dishes but he had excellent wine to accompany them and he busted out his nice dinnerware set, arranged beautifully on the balcony table with a bouquet of lilies and some candles. Like a date or something.
It was a date. Luo Binghe was totally trying to seduce his stalker.
Except his stalker was kind, intelligent, beautiful, protective. Unbelievably, he was perhaps the only person Luo Binghe could fully trust. He grew up too fast, could barely enjoy his childhood, and not only was Shen Qingqiu a balm on his weary soul, he was too intrigued by the mystery of how he knew Luo Binghe in the first place.
Shen Qingqiu arrived right on the dot. He wore a nice, cream cashmere sweater and olive green slacks. He looked unbelievably soft standing in the harsh chrome of Luo Binghe’s industrial home.
“Thank you for coming.” Luo Binghe took his car coat and hung it in the entryway closet. A pair of house slippers were already set aside for Shen Qingqiu to slip his socked feet into them, his oxfords lined neatly in the shoe rack by the door.
“Thank you for having me. It smells delicious.” Shen Qingqiu took a moment to openly gawk at the large windows overlooking the skyline, the high arching ceiling with the industrial chrome chandelier.
“Let me finish plating everything then we can have a seat and eat. What would you like to drink? I have tea, wine, brandy, sparkling water, and regular water.”
“Tea is fine for now. I’ll have some of that wine with dinner.”
Shen Qingqiu slid into the kitchen island stool and watched Luo Binghe neatly arrange everything artfully onto their platters. The rice was piping hot and fresh, finished just as everything was ready to go. The fans were working overtime to get the steam and heat out of the kitchen, Luo Binghe feeling his hair curling from the humidity.
Ah, but Shen Qingqiu looked lovely sipping on his tea as he made idle chatter about his day. Exams were coming, his students were skipping classes because it was just that time of year, the school board were being annoying, his coworkers kept pestering him to go out when he had so much grading . Despite that, he was here with Luo Binghe settling down at the dining table set up on the balcony. Lanterns were lit to accommodate the night that had blanketed the city, the sky too heavily polluted to show any stars sitting just above their heads.
Shen Qingqiu moaned into the first bite of food. He ate without a word, too busy going in for the next bite and chewing to do much more than nod or shake his head as Luo Binghe talked.
“How is it?” Luo Binghe asked.
Shen Qingqiu swallowed. “Amazing. I’ve eaten at a lot of nice places and this is better than any hole in the wall or Michelin star host. Why don’t you become a chef?”
Luo Binghe shook his head. “Father wouldn’t have it. He talks a lot about romance and dreams but knows that our legacy comes first. He said I can ‘play’ once I retire.”
“Which won’t be until you die, I suppose.” Shen Qingqiu took a heavy sip of wine, obviously hiding his upset.
“No, father plans to retire within the next five years. I will just have to marry again, get an heir, and pass the company to them so I can retire as soon as possible.” Father is already preparing a new binder full of potential wives. Luo Binghe refused to see it until at least one year has passed since the death of his wife. It was the least he could do for her.
Shen Qingqiu grew saddened, the wine flushing his cheeks but the three cups of wine he’s already had took its toll on his reasoning. But he cared so much, and with inebriation, it only made him even softer, sadder, lovelier. “To be trapped as you were in poverty, only to finally climb so high and be stuck at the top. I will free you, Binghe.”
He was tipsy, certainly loose-tongued. But Luo Binghe believed him.
The wine kept flowing. They ate as much as they could, and even being stuffed from dinner, Shen Qingqiu did not decline the fruit tarts Luo Binghe had baked this morning. After that, Shen Qingqiu laid slumped in his hard, leather couch, staring glassy eyed at the chrome fireplace roaring in the center of the room.
“Shen Qingqiu,” Luo Binghe started, but was quickly cut off.
“I’m a shizun! You’re supposed to call me Shizun!” He was really drunk, polishing off two-thirds of that bottle on his own and was currently drinking down a glass of brandy. Luo Binghe slipped the glass of brandy from his fingers and exchanged it with a glass of water.
“How are you my shizun?” Luo Binghe asked dutifully.
“I tutored you and you insisted on calling me shizun! ‘Shizun, look at this!’ ‘Shizun, I passed my exam!’ ‘Shizun, help me with my math homework!’ Please Binghe, you make your old Shizun sad you forgot.”
Luo Binghe had forgotten many things. His childhood was a blur with the occasional bright spot. He knew he wasn’t miserable the entire time, he had moments of happiness and spots of color sparse in the monotony of neglect and abuse, but had… Shen Qingqiu been his relief? Had he forgotten that much of his past?
“Refresh my memory of how we met.” Luo Binghe sat close to him, stretching an arm around the couch casually as if to instigate some cuddling.
Shen Qingqiu hummed. His head seemed to be too heavy, his head lolling back to rest on Luo Binghe’s arm. He could barely keep his eyes open, his whole body slumped, hot, and completely relaxed against Luo Binghe. “I tutored at a center during my free time in early college. I knew I wanted to be a teacher and it was a good learning experience. It was a center specifically to help children who were below the poverty line, so it was all done on government money. I was a volunteer and you were there. You were… eleven? Twelve? I taught you once, then you kept coming back and demanding I tutored you. If I was busy with another student you’d wait for me. If I was not there you would go home. Ah, I looked into you, out of curiosity, and found you were in an orphanage and went to this shitty school that was basically a school-to-prison pipeline. I wanted you to at least get a scholarship for a nicer school but I knew you wouldn’t have a way to travel out of district, to support yourself once you got in. I only wanted to educate you as best as I could so you could succeed and get yourself out of there.
“I wanted you to go to college on a full ride scholarship, get a degree in some respectable field, get a nice job and live a good life. I didn’t want to move when you were only fifteen and I had graduated from my program and would be going to a new university for my PhD. Leaving you was the last thing I wanted to do. I should have done something crazy and adopted you, just to get you out of there.” Shen Qingqiu relaxed further into Luo Binghe, his voice trailing closer and closer to sleep. His eyes were already closed.
Luo Binghe was tense next to him. He could… sort of remember fragments. The flickering fluorescent lights of the tutor center where mold crept in the corners of the ceilings from water damage. The smell of two many sweaty children crammed into a hot room on a humid, summers day with nothing but a whirring fan trying to alleviate the heat. Hunching over his textbooks trying to make sense of math, history, science, grammar, geography, English…
A kind voice murmuring close to him, gently praising him when he got a series of tricky problems right. When he lifted his head, everything was a blur. He could not see their face.
Shen Qingqiu was asleep curled up against him. The water glass had been barely sipped and was tipping dangerously in his slackened grip. Luo Binghe moved it to the coffee table.
There was a spare room for the idea that a guest might stay the night, more for show than for actual use. Luo Binghe did not want to use it. He carried Shen Qingqiu upstairs, stripped him from his soft sweater and chinos, and dressed him in a pair of his flannel pajama pants and sleep shirt. Not before stopping to admire his long, pale limbs, the dip of his stomach, the gentle rise and fall of his chest from under his t-shirt, the column of his throat. He looked angelic as he slept, beautiful like a calla lily.
He placed water and painkillers on the bedside table, and for good measure, nudged a trash can over to the floor by his head. Luo Binghe went back downstairs to clean up, packing away leftovers and prepping for breakfast tomorrow, then got himself ready for bed with a quick shower and brushed his teeth.
Luo Binghe settled into bed next to him, rolled over so he could watch him as he fell asleep. At some point as he drifted, he let his hand reach over and intertwine with Shen Qingqiu’s.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
He dreamed of Shen Qingqiu. He was young, barely over twenty, with his hair short and hung around his ears. He wore thick, square frame glasses that were trending a decade ago, and he smiled so bright a dimple appeared on his left cheek. He had bags under his eyes and his posture was hunched under his oversized university hoodie, a picture perfect college student right down to the giant cup of coffee he was sipping. Luo Binghe was enamored, completely starry eyed for his tutor.
Shen Qingqiu gently guided him in grammar lessons. Luo Binghe thought he was better than any teacher he had ever had before. He knew Shen Qingqiu would be a wonderful teacher once he graduated.
Luo Binghe did not want him to graduate because that meant he would be leaving Luo Binghe to teach other students.
He was the one who started a fire in the humanities building at Shen Qingqiu’s college. A simple match dropped into the trashcan in the girl’s restroom during the after hours that bloomed into most of the building burning down. His thought process must have been if Shen Qingqiu didn’t have a classroom to attend, then how would he graduate? Or, he must have simply been frustrated.
Stupid, really. He simply had classes in a different building. Luo Binghe should have dropped dozens of matches all over campus. He hadn’t been caught, miraculously, but the cameras were always turned off in the humanities building, except for the main entrance. Luo Binghe took the back entrance.
Shen Qingqiu told him on his last day he would be moving to Guangzhou to complete his PhD. Luo Binghe wanted to follow him, but he was on strict watch after being caught searching how to build pipe bombs in the school library.
He should have escaped. He could have, it would be so easy to just steal some money, hop on a train to Guangzhou, and stalk down Shen Qingqiu at the university.
But that’s not what happened because he was fifteen, immature, and thought everything he did would be the end of the world if he messed up. He did mess up by not going. Because after the pipe bomb incident, there was more vitriol and hate, more neglect and abuse, days in a closet, the inescapable torture of being young, scared, and lost.
Shen Qingqiu had abandoned him, and in a fit of despair, he might have wiped his memories of him.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
Luo Binghe did not like looking back at the first eighteen years of his life. There was too much to unpack, too much pain that left him numb and weak. He rose early with the sun, Shen Qingqiu now tangled in the sheets next to him, and went to do a morning workout in his home gym before preparing breakfast. He heard Shen Qingqiu stumble around upstairs for a moment, find the restroom, then stumbled back into bed. Luo Binghe found him passed out on his stomach, the water and pills gone, and the trash can thankfully clean.
He almost wanted to smother him, for abandoning him, but he was here now. He had been keeping tabs on Luo Binghe for a while now. He had been watching from the shadows, ensured Luo Binghe got the future he thought he deserved.
Did he deserve this? To go from an iron prison to a gilded cage?
He remembered his affections for Shen Qingqiu, his first spring dreams where Shen Qingqiu starred as the teacher who took him apart over the desk, took Luo Binghe home to his apartment and had his way with him. An illicit, secretive relationship where Luo Binghe would be hidden from the world as Shen Qingqiu’s alone. It made Luo Binghe burn as he remembered how Shen Qingqiu contemplate adopting him.
Shen Qingqiu finally awoke around ten. Congee was ready and waiting for Shen Qingqiu as he stumbled down the stairs, bleary-eyed and nearly stumbling into the counter. He looked like he tried splashing water on his face to wake himself up, but he was still too sluggish and blinking sleepily up at Luo Binghe as he sat at the kitchen island with the congee in front of him.
Luo Binghe couldn’t help but lean down and press a kiss to his sleep-soured mouth.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
The news broke with a frantic phone call in the middle of his work day. He had about ten minutes before his entire life will crumble. All these big, dangerous words went in one year and out the other. The only thing he could grasp was that he was fucked and would be lucky to be dropped in the bottom barrels of society once more. They were getting his father first, his accomplices, then him.
What will he do? He can’t run, that will only make his punishment worse once he’s caught. Ah, he had a date with Shen Qingqiu tomorrow night, a dinner and a movie. If he played his cards right, Shen Qingqiu would shyly invite him over for a drink and he would spend the night. The two weeks of bliss with Shen Qingqiu had to be the happiest he’s ever been. It was only right that the fates wouldn’t allow him happiness.
He drove home. He will call Shen Qingqiu as soon as he’s home and explain that they were over, that for Shen Qingqiu’s protection it was best he forgot about him for a while.
Except Shen Qingqiu called him while he drove. He let it ring for a moment before finally answering, bracing himself to spill exactly what is going to happen.
“You’re on Park Way approaching Fifth street. Make a left on Fifth street,” Shen Qingqiu ordered without greeting.
“Shizun—“
“Now. I know what’s going on already. Just take the directions and don’t ask questions. I said I only want to protect you, yes?”
Luo Binghe felt tension release from his strained body. “Yes, Shizun.”
“Good boy. Now get on the five south and get two lanes over. You’ll be there for a bit.”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t ask questions, only gave him orders. Luo Binghe noticed the street he finally pulled on and realized this was Shen Qingqiu’s home. A house tucked away between houses that looked just like it. He has a pear tree hanging over the fence.
“Park around the corner by the street sign.”
Luo Binghe did as he was ordered. When he pulled into his spot, Shen Qingqiu was standing on the sidewalk with a tablet in one hand and his phone in the other. He looked like he had been enjoying a nice day off with his soft sweatpants and matching sweatshirt. Luo Binghe got out of the car and Shen Qingqiu stuck his hand out.
“Your phone and car keys. They’ll be tracking you. Do you trust me?”
Luo Binghe handed him the phone and keys.
“Good, now take anything you would like to keep out of the car.”
A duffel bag of spare clothes and shoes, his charger, a tin of mints, his umbrella, a blanket. Shen Qingqiu helped him carry them to the house and let him inside. “I’ll be right back. Close all the curtains and lock all the doors. I have a key to let myself back in.”
Shen Qingqiu disappeared for about an hour before he finally came back with no keys or phone in sight. “You’ll stay here for a little bit before we get you out of here.”
“Shizun.” Luo Binghe had stripped from his suit jacket and tie, sitting too uncomfortably on the couch next to the pile of grading and piles of dirty coffee cups. A laptop sat idling atop the mess. “You know I can’t run forever. It’s a matter of time before I’m taken in, too.”
What they had done had certainly been illegal, and not quite morally correct, but no one had been hurt besides the ones who needed to be hurt. It still didn’t matter that what they did would give them prison time.
“No, you won’t.” Shen Qingqiu knelt in front of Luo Binghe, grasping his hands. You are safe with me. I swore to protect you and will continue to do so. Don’t think I’ll give up on you now that the government is after you.”
Luo Binghe sighed, entwining their fingers together. “It makes me happy you care.”
There was a dangerous glint in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes, a determination that was unshakable. “Don’t think I can’t protect you from the government, Binghe.”
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
Shen Qingqiu kept the house on total lockdown, only going outside to collect the mail when Luo Binghe was on the other side of the house. It was a small, one bedroom home cluttered with books and knickknacks. In his new cage, Luo Binghe couldn’t stand still and do nothing. He cleaned and cooked, ordered groceries through Shen Qingqiu’s phone. The house went from dusty and disorganized to a Architectural Digest celebrity cleanliness. He knew how to clean and he did enjoy transforming a space and maintaining its cleanliness, he rekindled his love for keeping a household in order, finding new meals to cook and impress Shen Qingqiu.
The dark nights was when Shen Qingqiu allowed him to touch him, too shy to keep his face during the daylight hours and shielded his arousal in the cover of night. They started slowly, gently— long kisses, dragging touches, curling into each other’s heat, stray hands wandering up shirts and down pants.
Luo Binghe was in Heaven. He lived in bliss, falling asleep in Shen Qingqiu’s arms then rising to see his sleepy face blinking blearily up at him, demanding with a hoarse voice to come back to bed.
His luck would never last.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
It was probably during the third week when someone broke into the house. It was deep in the night, long after they had settled in, tucked close together. Luo Binghe was roused from his sleep with Shen Qingqiu sitting up straight in bed on high alert.
“Shi—”
A had covered his mouth. Shen Qingqiu kept his eyes trained to the door. Luo Binghe heard it then, the shuffle of feet, the hushed whisper of someone moving stealthily.
“Don’t move,” Shen Qingqiu barely whispered into his ear. He crept slowly out of bed, moving quietly, sneakily across the room as a shadow. His hand reached for the door barely cracked open. Then slammed and locked it in one motion.
Luo Binghe rolled to the floor. Shen Qingqiu threw the dresser down in front of the door. Shouting and running came toward the bedroom door. There was a helicopter flying near. Lights illuminated the midnight sky. A magnified voice rang through the air, demanding a surrender.
Shen Qingqiu grabbed Luo Binghe and threw them into the bathroom, far away from the pounding door, the dark figures moving toward the window. They hoisted themselves out the tiny bathroom window after Shen Qingqiu kicked it out of its frame. They stumbled into the backyard, landing in the garden below and breaking into a sprint, their clothes and skin caught in the bramble of their run. They were barefoot, barely dressed, and clung together as they hopped backyard fences until they could make it to the street. Unmarked vans were rounding the corner, the helicopter hovering too close overhead.
They broke into a sprint on the street, unable to outrun the cars and helicopter on foot, but Shen Qingqiu led them into hidden curbs and shortcuts that made it difficult for cars to follow. It was a blur, Luo Binghe’s bare feet pounding harshly on the unforgiving ground, a cold sweat soaking his body. There might be only three cars, maybe thirty, Luo Binghe was dizzy and heavy and shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Shen Qingqiu kept him anchored. He knew where he was going. An old mall, abandoned and fallen into disarray, had a broken employee entrance tucked to the side. They heaved a dusty cabinet in front of the door. It was pitch black in here, musty and colder than the outside. Shen Qingqiu knew where they were going. There was a Maglite tucked into a corner that he switched on, startled by the shock of light after the pressing darkness. They could hear the vans rolling up, the helicopter roaring overhead.
Luo Binghe got a good, proper look at Shen Qingqiu. His sleep braid was disheveled and sweaty, the hair sticking to his nape and temples. Dirt smudged on his wet cheeks, his sleep shirt torn, filthy, and sweaty. He was heaving and flushed, wide eyed and shaking. He looked afraid, but there was a glint in his eye Luo Binghe knew meant he had not been completely shocked into fear. Shen Qingqiu had somehow the state of mind to grab a small backpack from the bedside, something Luo Binghe had seen as him being meticulous in his habit of spending the minimum amount of time it took to get ready for class in the morning. His laptop, rations, first aid kit, a makeup bag, and a new phone were inside.
“We are going to a car I have waiting not too far from here, after we shake them off. Then you are going to take some medicine for me, something to keep you out of sight for a while. It will put you to sleep, so when you wake up, we’ll be at our new beginning.”
He did not elaborate further. They kept to the employee passageways until they entered the mall. The glass ceiling overhead was dusted and black barely illuminating the room with the barest silvers of moonlight. The helicopter flashed into sight, unable to see them through the filthy windows. They still sprinted across the cracked, dusty floors to another employee entrance. Behind a locked door Shen Qingqiu held a key for, too shiny for the rusted door knob and perhaps freshly made, leading to a staircase that went down into total darkness.
“Bomb shelters from the Cold Wars. This is one of the closed off areas,” Shen Qingqiu explained.
Luo Binghe didn’t question how he had all this prepared. He trusted Shen Qingqiu and his obviously long thought out escape plan. Knew he would take care of him.
They took the tunnels for nearly an hour, their feet aching and sore from the run, shivering as their adrenaline calmed down to a painful dizziness. Their breathing echoed too loudly, reverberating back like the gasp of a ghost. When they finally arrived at a new set of stairs, it let them out to a park. The air was quiet, even the park lamps were off. There was no howling of tire wheels and screams of a helicopter approaching. A small car sat tucked in the parking lot. Shen Qingqiu tugged the key from his backpack and unlocked the car. They crawled into the front seat and quickly assessed themselves.
Luo Binghe had sprained his ankle at some point on the run, adrenaline only keeping him going. Shen Qingqiu had a nasty tear through his pajama pants, his thigh bleeding steadily. Their hands and feet were torn up and filthy, Shen Qingqiu hissed about his knees hurting.
Fresh clothes were in the back. They used a towel and water from a bottle to wipe down their hands and feet then wiggled into new clothes as best they could. Shen Qingqiu was dressed down to soft jeans and a hoodie under a denim jacket, thick socks, and a pair of heavy lace-up boots. Luo Binghe had knit joggers, an oversized shirt, and even larger sweater and socks. He did not have shoes.
Shen Qingqiu leaned over and kissed his forehead. Then dropped the lever for the chair and threw Luo Binghe to lay completely flat. Shen Qingqiu hovered over him, haloed by the car light. There was a smooth, blankness on his face, his eyes clear.
He swooped down to an aggressive, biting, breathless kiss. Luo Binghe moaned into his mouth, cupped his head to pull him closer, trying to absorb them into one. It was long, seering, deep, soul-sucking.
When Shen Qingqiu broke he was breathing hard again, his pupils blown.
“Will I be going to sleep now, Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked breathlessly.
“Yes. You need a good night’s sleep.” Luo Binghe could hardly sleep longer than a couple of hours, all his sleeping aids back at his house and anxiety about being drugged while he slept in case of a night like this allowed him to convince Shen Qingqiu not to buy them. His future was so uncertain, he should be more afraid, but he trusted Shen Qingqiu’s plan. He was tired.
“How long is the drive?”
“Two days. I’ll let you up when we stop tomorrow night.”
Luo Binghe took the offered pill. Shen Qingqiu draped a lap blanket over him and tucked his head into a neck pillow. Another kiss to his lips, this one tender, sweet, promising.
The medicine kicked in quickly. Luo Binghe drifted off to sleep as they got on the empty highway and into the steadily graying night.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
The house Shen Qingqiu took them to was in the suburbs. It was bigger than Shen Qingqiu’s first house, sitting in a neighborhood on the outskirts of Chongqing. Luo Binghe awoke in a beautiful attic bedroom, the space bright and white from all the angled windows with sun shining through the filtered glass. He sat up and took in the bedroom. The bed was tucked into the slanted nook of the attic, large windows overhead with blinds pulled open to allow shade for later. The bed was so comfortable with its plush duvet and a memory foam that held Luo Binghe in its cozy embrace. There was an arm chair and a low cabinet running along the length of the small space. Across from him was a tall railing and narrow staircase that opened up to the rest of the space below.
His clothes had been changed to a fresh set of clean pajamas. He had been washed, his hair blown dry but the roots at his scalp a little humid. He felt sluggish, fatigued from sleeping for two days. It was morning, late morning judging by the deepened light different from a pale morning.
He climbed down the narrow stairs gingerly and found the rest of the space like a luxury studio apartment. A comfortable looking couch, a desk, a breakfast nook, a large TV, a closet, shelves of books and puzzles, a door under the loft that was cracked open to a clean bathroom. There was a nice kitchen with charcoal cabinets with white and natural wood countertops, along with a mini island with plush barstools. The kitchen was fully equipped and already stocked with basic ingredients and spices. The rest of the space was pristine and pretty, too much like an aesthetic tiny apartment off a Pinterest board with minimalistic decor. A trap door off in the corner had the staircase folded neatly atop— the exit for the attic.
There was a fuzzy cuff around his ankle, hooked to a silky robe, and anchored to the foot of the bed by the post. He found the coil of rope to be long enough for him to have free reign of the whole space. The house must be large if this was just the attic space.
He was only up and wandering around for a moment, still too sluggish to do more than use the restroom and put on the electric kettle to make some tea. He found a soft shawl to drape over his shoulders to keep the chill off.
The attic door was pulled down. Up came Shen Qingqiu with a basket of laundry. He looked ragged, thin. Had it only been two days since they left Beijing?
“You’re awake. Good morning, or good afternoon. How do you feel?”
Luo Binghe took a second to respond, still trying to turn himself back online after practically being in a coma for two days. His head throbbed, his body ached, he felt dizzy, he couldn’t quite shake sleep off him. “Fine.”
“No, you’re not. Scooch over and go sit down.” Luo Binghe was forced to sit on the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. Shen Qingqiu set the laundry down and took over making tea. There was a drawer dedicated to just tea and coffee, with all sorts of flavorings and accessories to make a fancy latte.
“I hope the accommodations suit Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu said from the kitchen. He was dressed nicely in slacks and a button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up and his shoes switched for house slippers. “This is a large house, but please understand that you must remain up here for the time being. You’re a wanted man and I can’t have anyone accidentally see you.”
Luo Binghe understood. They were very nice accommodations with plenty of entertainment. The windows would make it hard to see outside but they let in plenty of light.
“Is there any workout equipment?” Luo Binghe asked.
Shen Qingqiu opened up one of the many hidden cabinets and showed off the yoga mat, dumbbells in various weights, kettlebell, yoga bands and blocks, and a foam roller. “There are some basics, but let me know if you would like more equipment— other weights, a pull up bar. I’ll be sure to get you anything you want.”
“Ingredients for dinner?”
“Not yet. I’ll let you cook me some of that delicious congee tomorrow when you’re feeling better. Tonight, I’m cooking dinner. Give me a list tomorrow morning with any ingredients or items you need and I’ll make sure to get them for you.”
Despite just waking up after the longest, deepest sleep of his life, he was still fatigued. Shen Qingqiu handed him a cup of tea and took a seat close to him on the couch, his own mug cradled to his stomach. “How are you?”
Luo Binghe slowly answered. “Tired. It should wear off soon.”
“Mn. You won’t be having any more of that medication for a long time. I won’t allow it. If you have trouble sleeping, I’ll get you something else.” He took a sip of his tea. “Do you remember the drive at all?”
Luo Binghe tried to boot his mind back on but couldn’t. “No. Did I wake up?”
“I allowed you to wake up when we stopped to sleep. You tried to run from the car when I opened the door. Excuse me for taking precautions when you woke up today. I could not risk having you hurt yourself.” The cuff on his ankle. Ah, had he been so restless in his sleep he subconsciously thought he needed to run? How stupid.
Luo Binghe sighed and placed his cup of tea on the coffee table. He was still so fatigued, ready for a little nap after just waking. He laid down on the couch, his head resting in Shen Qingqiu’s lap. He fell asleep with Shen Qingqiu running a gentle hand through his scalp.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
Shen Qingqiu cut his hair that first morning, his long tresses falling like shredded silk to the bathroom floor, unraveling from the hair ties. His uneven bob was slowly, painstakingly shaped by the two of them to resemble a standard, short, men’s cut. Luo Binghe helped, and mourned his long locks. He had been allowed to put a tiny braid in his hair and make the first cut, keeping the tiny braid for himself. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes glittered with amusement as Luo Binghe painstakingly coiled the slender braid in a baggy until he could figure out a way to preserve it later.
The reason for the new cut was that Shen Qingqiu had a job interview today, an administrative position for the local school district. His new name was Shen Yuan, his entire identity flipped overnight. His old job he worked so hard for was down the drain until he could solidify a new university position. His whole background has been wiped clean, his new identity forged to reflect an idol member of society. His application had been shoved to the top of their stacks by unknown means and he was first in line for a job with stellar “recommendations”.
Meanwhile, Luo Binghe was a shadow. He stayed in his attic as Shen Qingqiu left first thing the next morning, a list tucked into his leather bag and pressing a sweet kiss to Luo Binghe’s forehead where he still laid sleepy in bed.
“Don’t push yourself to do anything. Go at your own pace today,” Shen Qingqiu made him promise.
And he did. For the first time in his life, Luo Binghe spent a day doing nothing. He was more awake, his mind clearer. He made some rice and stir-fried vegetables to get the feeling of cooking back into his limbs. He did yoga to ease out the aches. He read a book from the massive bookcase. He watched a drama he’d been wanting to see on the massive TV.
It felt weird, wrong. Like he should be doing something. Like he had to work on something. There was nothing to clean, the place so new and spotless. At least with his brief living with Shen Qingqiu he could always scrub the toilets or dust the shelves or have an intensively long dinner-making process that took him half a day just to prep.
He took inventory of his new home. Noted that he did want a pull up bar and some more dumbbells. All the toiletries he already used on the regular were all present in the cabinets, brand new with the caps still sealed.
Shen Qingqiu came home during the golden hour. He smiled, stating he got the job, and brought groceries of everything Luo Binghe wanted and more. He made the congee and they ate their light dinner curled up on the couch with that drama started from the beginning so Shen Qingqiu could watch it with him.
This was… Luo Binghe could live forever like this.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
His wife’s accident might not have been an accident. He realizes it now as Shen Qingqiu kept him locked here for… two weeks now? Perhaps three? He had a Nintendo Switch, more dumbbells, a book on how to embroider and supplies, a growing watchlist he steadily worked through, and one night, just to get a peek of the stars he had never seen before, Shen Qingqiu slammed the window shut and banned Luo Binghe from touching them.
The spark in his eyes— fear, anger— made Luo Binghe shiver. An off handed comment confirmed his tentative theory.
“I’m sure your wife couldn’t have ever taken care of you like I could. She was too easily rid of.”
Shen Qingqiu was fucking into him, hard and fast, pinning Luo Binghe down where his hands were tied to his thighs with the rope that anchored him to the attic. Tears dripped down his face, overwhelmed by the two orgasms that had already been wrung out of him and inching toward a third. The sharp snap of Shen Qingqiu’s hips sent him spiraling, overflowing, drowning. His only anchor was Shen Qingqiu’s touch, his cock, his mouth.
He was so in love with Shen Qingqiu. It was that sweet, bubbling warmth his wife could never give him. It was the nostalgic shadows of his foster mother’s love, but reshaped to fit Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe openly cried, so madly, deeply in love with his captor, his savior.
“I didn’t have to tip them off about your father, but I needed to in order to get you away from their influence. It was only a matter of time. I promised to protect you.”
When Luo Binghe came, he yanked Shen Qingqiu into his arms, felt him grind deep into his core, and sobbed into his skin. Shen Qingqiu continued to grind his hips until he climaxed, filling Luo Binghe up so good. Luo Binghe refused to release him, rolling them over to bury himself in his arms until he could stop shaking.
“Shizun?” Luo Binghe asked after they’d parted, cleaned, and curled into each other. The moon overhead shined bright through the window. The nook of the loft made his space feel small, secure, like a cozy cubby to tuck him in.
To think, how the past six months had played out, had all been a fabrication of Shen Qingqiu to get him here, in his arms, and in their home. Luo Binghe could not bring himself to be angry over his life being destroyed.
“Mm?”
“Will you marry me?”
Shen Qingqiu’s breath caught in his throat. Then he tore from the bed and stumbled down the stairs in the silvery darkness of the attic, barely grabbing a cardigan to throw on as he ran.
“Shizun!” Luo Binghe’s knees were still weak. He rolled out of bed after him and stumbled to the stairs. Shen Qingqiu had already thrown open the attic steps and were tearing down them. He couldn’t follow that far. “Shizun! Come back! I change my mind, it was a joke!”
Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He felt them drip down his jaw more than he felt them well in his eyes. He wanted to go to sleep with how silent his heart had frozen in his chest. He couldn’t— why did he— what was— He couldn't find an answer.
Running footsteps echoed back this way. Shen Qingqiu was quickly climbing back up the attic steps, not bothering to close them behind him as he always does. Shen Qingqiu paused to look at Luo Binghe leaning over the railing of the loft, eyes glittering in the moonlit room.
“Shizun…?”
Shen Qingqiu did not take his eyes off him as he rounded the corner and climbed up the narrow stairs to the loft. He lunged toward Luo Binghe and cupped his cheeks, gently leading him back to sit on the bed. He wiped away Luo Binghe’s tears.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Shen Qingqiu hushed, kissing away his tears. “I needed— fuck.”
He fell to his knees before him. And pulled out a velvet ring box. A simple platinum band glowed under the moon laid with a promise in his hands. “I wanted to ask, I had it all set up. But you beat me to it.”
Luo Binghe gulped, a fresh wave of tears pouring from his eyes. He could barely see through his hiccuping sobs as Shen Qingqiu placed the ring on his finger then kissed the back of his hand with such reverent tenderness.
┕━☽【❖】☾━┙
The first time Luo Binghe leaves the house is in a matching white suit with Shen Qingqiu and red dahlia boutonnières pinned to their lapels. They went to a government office and signed some papers, with only the officiant and this mousy guy present, then immediately went straight back home.
Luo Binghe had yet to see the house. He got to take a tour of it after the wedding then proceeded to fuck on every flat surface they could find until they had barely the strength to crawl back up into the attic. They did their three bows then curled up with the nuptial wine on the couch to watch the last episodes of the drama.
It took some months before Luo Binghe was allowed to leave the attic. It was nice up there, but he was going a bit stir crazy, even while doing things he never dreamed of doing with his wife like drinking wine from her ass or being strung up from the rafters and fucked stupid. It’s when the media circus had settled, the government had given up on their search, and Luo Binghe’s name was nothing but dust in the wind when he could descend the stairs and sleep in the master bedroom with Shen Qingqiu for the first time. It was also Shen Qingqiu’s first time sleeping there.
While Shen Qingqiu worked, Luo Binghe kept the house in perfect order, cooking and cleaning, and even picked up a few crafting hobbies to pass his free time. A little embroidery, a little knitting, a little miniature building, a little painting, and a little guqin playing. His favorite piece was an embroidered bouquet of lilies made from the braid of Shen Qingqiu’s hair he had kept, artfully bleached to different tones but primarily its originally inky hue. It hung over the mantel next to a portrait he painted of them. He was, by all means, the perfect wife who said farewell to his husband in the morning with a kiss and a packed lunch and welcomed him home with a longer kiss and dinner almost ready.
Ah, but the ankle monitor was for his own protection. He knew Shen Qingqiu only intended him to wear it for a little bit until they could get out of the country.