That night, not only was Deputy Yu in a bad mood, but the Celestial Commissioner was also quite displeased.
He squirmed uncomfortably on the booth sofa and grumbled, “I think tying up the Living Buddha like that is really over the line. Do you people have any basic reverence for the Buddha at all?”
Li Hu put her hands together devoutly, a look of compassion on her face. Dressed in a low-cut, tight-fitting mini dress, she resembled a pristine white lotus flower untouched by dust. “Amitabha—dear Commissioner, look at our crew: Boss Zhou suppressed Buddhism in the Northern Wei Dynasty, Feng Si rebelled against the Heavenly Way, Old Third is a zombie cultivating a Hound Demon, I’m a nine-tailed fox spirit; even Deputy Yu smokes and drinks, his six senses are far from pure, and he still manages to squeeze in the occasional blind date or casual fling. Why on earth would you think we respect you?”
Deputy Yu snapped angrily, “I did not go on a blind date or hook up!”
“……” The Celestial Commissioner struggled and called out, “Mama! Mama, save me—!”
“Your mama and papa went home to be happy together.” Li Hu said lovingly. “And just so you know, Feng Si isn’t really your mom. He just had a moment of maternal instinct and picked you up back then, nursed you for a few days. When the lamas from the Tibetan region sent someone to retrieve you, he returned you—oh, and that formula he gave you was imported from Australia, Aptamil Stage 3 in the gold can.”
The Celestial Commissioner yelled, “This is not the time for product placement ads!” while furiously trying to wriggle out of the rope.
Unfortunately, a seventeen-year-old Living Buddha was no match for the demonic power of a three-thousand-year-old nine-tailed fox’s ropes. The Celestial Commissioner could only lie there on the sofa, butt in the air, mourning the doomed love that had been crushed before it even began. Li Hu turned toward the sulking Deputy Yu and threw him a flirty glance, beaming. “So? Didn’t I say I was on your side, Uncle Yu? Be sure to tell Boss Zhou I deserve some praise!”
Yu Jingzhong said with a mix of amusement and frustration, “I really didn’t go on a blind date or hook up…”
“Even thinking about it counts. And come on, as a thirty-something mature man, the occasional hookup isn’t a big deal.” Li Hu continued sharply, “Going without se-x for too long increases your risk of prostate problems, you know. Do you want prostate issues? Humans can die from all sorts of diseases just like that.”
“I don’t think chastity and dying from illness are directly related…”
“If you die, Zhou Hui won’t stay in the National Security Bureau. If Zhou Hui leaves, Feng Si won’t stay either. And if they both go, the second, third, fifth, and I will all leave too,” said Li Hu. “Then China’s underworld combat power will lag way behind the Japanese and Koreans. So for the sake of national security, I really think you should go get laid once in a while. Right? What do you say, Yan Lanyu?”
Yan Lanyu didn’t reply. He quietly sipped his water.
Deputy Yu looked hopelessly at Li Hu, then at Yan Lanyu, seemingly wanting to say something. But the nine-tailed fox gave him no chance.
“Oh, right. I forgot—you still have the ‘Cleaner’ under your command.” Li Hu blinked slyly and said, “The Cleaner might be a bit antisocial, but he’s way more reliable than that frequently unstable Boss Zhou. He handled the cleanup for both the Earth Womb Incident in H City and the internal NSB upheaval, didn’t he? Boss Zhou even said that if the Cleaner keeps developing this way, he could easily sweep through Southeast Asia solo one day.”
“I’d like to clarify something…”
“Speaking of which, if you hadn’t pulled the Cleaner out of prison right before his execution back then, where would you find such a loyal subordinate now? Honestly, he’s got everything going for him—except his personality. It’s just way too antisocial. I’ve never heard him speak to anyone but you. Back then, I even thought he was mute…”
Yan Lanyu stood up and said politely, “I’m going to the restroom.”
Yu Jingzhong quickly set down his drink. “I’ll go with you—”
“Just go past the dance floor and down the hallway—it’s at the end,” Li Hu helpfully pointed out.
Yan Lanyu nodded and stepped out of the booth, disappearing into the bustling crowd in an instant.
Yu Jingzhong slumped back into his seat, lighting a cigarette with a miserable look. “What the hell are you trying to do? You know he’s sensitive!” he said, kicking the little Living Buddha who had just tumbled off the sofa.
“Being sensitive and having poor emotional endurance are two different things…” Li Hu replied with a smile, picking up the bottle of whiskey Zhou Hui had left behind and pouring it into Yu Jingzhong’s glass. Without waiting for a response, she suddenly shifted topics: “——But today, I think I finally kind of understand Feng Si.”
“Huh?”
Li Hu didn’t answer. She just smiled and pushed the glass toward Yu Jingzhong.
She remembered when she was still a little fox. That year, she had been stung by a poisonous wasp, lying under a tree, trembling as poisonous fumes filled the forest sky. Her body temperature dropped lower and lower, and her cries grew weaker and weaker as her vision blurred with the approach of death. Just when she thought it was over, a pair of warm hands picked her up.
She forced her eyes open, and in the haze, saw a pair of gentle, downcast eyes.
Many years later, after she had cultivated into a powerful demon of the beast realm, the nine-tailed fox often wondered: how did the lofty Phoenix King even notice such a pitiful, filthy little fox dying under a tree? What moved him to stop and scoop her up?
She still didn’t know.
But when she saw Yan Lanyu sitting alone, quietly drinking his water, she felt like maybe she understood that feeling—just a little bit.
It must’ve been something like this.
“Amitabha, little beauty… this humble demon has done all she can for you…” Li Hu thought, her heart full of emotion as she watched Deputy Yu tilt back the glass of whiskey.
·
Yan Lanyu washed his face, turned off the tap, and pulled a couple of tissues to dry off.
As he opened his eyes, he saw in the mirror a man standing behind him, drying his hands while staring intently at him.
“Sorry,” the man said when he saw Yan Lanyu’s gaze in the mirror. “When you came in, I thought you were wearing makeup, or at least foundation. So when I saw you wash your face just now… I was just curious.”
“No worries.” Yan Lanyu tossed the tissue and walked toward the exit.
But the man suddenly turned and blocked his path, smiling. “Hey, what’s your name? Want to grab a drink?”
—This man actually wasn’t bad looking. Probably in his thirties, fairly tall, well-dressed with no visible brand labels, but wore a famously expensive watch. Yan Lanyu glanced down, noticing his cleanly trimmed nails and spotless leather shoes.
Men like this tend to have a high success rate when hitting on people at bars—regardless of gender.
“No thanks. I don’t drink.”
“Then maybe tea? There’s a great tea house nearby…”
“I’m here with friends,” Yan Lanyu declined politely, stepping around the man. But after a couple of steps, he stopped, turned back, and said, “Sir, there’s someone behind you. Be careful.”
The man flinched and spun around, only to see Yan Lanyu pointing behind him. What he couldn’t see was a bloodstained face silently emerging behind him, filled with resentment, its eyes coldly locked on the young exorcist over his shoulder.
Yan Lanyu didn’t care. He turned and walked out of the restroom.
·
When the beautiful young master returned to his seat, he was immediately startled.
“He only had two glasses and ended up like this…” For some reason, Li Hu’s expression was a bit strange, as if she were trying hard to hide some unknown guilt. “I originally meant to give him just one. But then the Commissioner fell off the sofa, and I smacked him a few times, turned around—and Yu Jingzhong had already finished off the bottom of the bottle…”
Deputy Yu collapsed onto the couch, face flushed red, completely unconscious. Yan Lanyu tried to support him, but the drunk man was unbelievably heavy. He stood there troubled, directly ignoring the constantly writhing Senwan Tiansi (“Forget about him, true love! What’s so great about a middle-aged uncle! Save me instead, true love!”), and asked Li Hu, “Can you help me get him into the car?”
“Send Zhang Shun. I’m a delicate girl,” Li Hu said as she kicked Zhang Shun, who was so bored that he looked ready to hatch a chick on his head. Hearing her, he grabbed Yu Jingzhong and groaned, “Damn, this guy’s solid… Can you drive? Or should I call you two a cab?”
“I can drive,” Yan Lanyu replied. He waved politely at Li Hu and Senwan Tiansi. “We’ll go first, see you later.”
“Pour cold water on him at home!” Li Hu warned as she followed after them worriedly. “It’s not cold out! Cold showers are good for the body!”
Yan Lanyu waved in acknowledgment. He and Zhang Shun hauled Yu Jingzhong out of the bar and stuffed him into his specially modified second-hand Mercedes.
After all, they had been through life and death together—Zhang Shun showed a bit more concern. Seeing Yan Lanyu start the car, he still hesitated. “You really know how to drive? I could drop you off and take a cab back.”
“I really do. Do I look like some delicate flower untouched by worldly troubles?” Yan Lanyu smiled. “I even know software engineering—bet you didn’t expect that.”
Zhang Shun was stunned. He watched as he reversed and turned with practiced ease, waving through the window as he disappeared into the neon-lit stream of cars on the nightlife street.
“…He’s kidding, right?” Young Master Zhang muttered, twitching at the corner of his mouth.
At a red light, Yan Lanyu happened to glance at the side mirror—and froze.
He saw the man who had hit on him in the bathroom earlier exiting the bar with a teenage boy draped over his shoulder. The boy had dyed hair, a heavily worn-out look, revealing clothes, and was clearly drunk—no doubt plied with alcohol.
Yan Lanyu hesitated for a moment.
But the light turned green, the cars behind honked impatiently, and he had no choice but to drive on.
Driving in Beijing at night was no joke. With all the traffic, it took nearly an hour to get home. He parked in the garage, shut off the engine, and turned to help Yu Jingzhong out of the passenger seat.
He seemed to stir, muttering, “…Who is it?”
“We’re home.”
He didn’t respond or move. Yan Lanyu reached out to help again, but Yu Jingzhong suddenly opened his eyes. His gaze was restless, bloodshot.
Frowning slightly, Yan Lanyu got out, opened the passenger door, and asked, “Can you get out on your own?”
Yu Jingzhong tilted his head, as if trying to figure something out. After a long pause, he stumbled out with the support of the door—nearly falling flat if not for Yan Lanyu catching him.
“…Huh?”
Yan Lanyu was taken aback.
Yu Jingzhong, once a field agent—truly the elite of the elites—had always been top-tier in every area, especially physically. Although he didn’t look particularly muscular in clothes, his muscle fibers were dense and powerful. Especially his back and arms—almost no fat at all.
People like that were usually solid but not overly bulky.
But right now, when he touched him, he felt burning hot. His muscles were so tense it was like stone.
…That can’t be right, he thought uneasily. Did that nine-tailed fox spike his drink with something strange?
“Who are you?” Yu Jingzhong suddenly rasped, staggering forward.
“Just a bystander,” Yan Lanyu replied offhandedly, supporting him to the elevator. Just as he pressed the button, he was suddenly shoved hard by Yu Jingzhong.
“…Get away!”
It was completely unexpected. He nearly fell but managed to catch himslef against the wall. Before he could react, Yu Jingzhong was still gasping, yelling, “Get away! Stay away from me!”
The elevator dinged open, and he immediately stumbled in.
“…” Yan Lanyu rubbed his shoulder and slowly followed him in, watching as Yu Jingzhong tried to steady himself against the elevator wall, rubbing his forehead. Under the lights, he noticed his exposed skin was turning red—especially his neck and behind his ears. If it were a bit colder, he’d probably be steaming. The whole look was almost beastly.
This wasn’t normal.
Yu Jingzhong was the kind of man who, while firm underneath, appeared soft on the surface. You could call him a gentle knight or even a pushover. He was the type to swerve around a dead bird on the road.
His strength came from within, never overtly aggressive.
The elevator rose slowly. When it finally opened, Yu Jingzhong staggered out, looked around in a daze before recognizing his door on the left, and fumbled toward it, trying to find his keys in his pocket.
But the whiskey from earlier had clearly wrecked him. He couldn’t get the key out after fumbling for ages. After several long minutes, Yan Lanyu finally stepped forward, found the key in his pocket—and froze.
He really went blank for a moment.
But reality didn’t give him time to think.
Yu Jingzhong suddenly grabbed him. His expression was unfocused but filled with anger. “Why are you still here?”
Yan Lanyu’s first thought was: Where else would I go?
But before he could say anything, Yu Jingzhong gripped his arm so tightly he thought his elbow might pop out of its socket. “Yu… Yu Jingzhong!”
He didn’t hear him. He shoved the key into the lock, jammed it in after multiple tries, opened the door with a click—and then shoved him inside without warning.
Yan Lanyu fell silently onto the thick carpet.
It didn’t hurt, but in the darkness, he heard the door close behind him. As he propped himself up, Yu Jingzhong knelt down and grabbed his shoulders.
Hot, urgent breaths tinged with alcohol and smoke brushed against his neck. Then came his feverish, chaotic kisses.
Yan Lanyu looked stunned. He didn’t know how to react.
Should he go along? Resist? Pretend it wasn’t happening?
“Don’t move, don’t move…” Yu Jingzhong rasped hoarsely, tugging at his clothes so roughly that buttons popped off. Amid the chaos, Yan Lanyu was oddly regretful—would an old bachelor even have a sewing kit? If not, would this new shirt be ruined?
Or should he just hide it in a corner, pretend nothing happened?
He didn’t know why his mind drifted to that, but before he could think further, he was pressed down onto the carpet. Yu Jingzhong leaned over him.
They locked eyes for a long moment.
No lights were on. Only the streetlamps cast dim light through the windows. In the distance, the sound of cars rushing past echoed faintly.
“…” Yan Lanyu finally reached up, touched his neck, and pulled him close.
Their breaths mingled—and he kissed him softly on the lips.
For Yu Jingzhong, waking up the next morning was… complicated.
He opened his eyes in the wrecked bed, squinting against the harsh sunlight. His head throbbed from a killer hangover, every nerve screaming.
What happened last night?
Right. He went to the bar to pay Zhou Hui’s tab, got drunk thanks to Li Hu, and blacked out…
How did he get home?
Yu Jingzhong blinked and took a deep breath—then froze.
Something was off.
He turned stiffly—like a movie scene in slow motion—and saw someone else in the bed.
It was Yan Lanyu.
The youth slept quietly in the morning light, dark hair scattered across a white pillow. Even without looking, it was obvious from the disheveled sheets that he, like Yu Jingzhong, was completely naked. What was more shocking were the red and purple marks—bite marks, blood spots—across his pale neck, chest, and back. Some were already bruising.
Yu Jingzhong sat frozen for several minutes, his mind blank.
Eventually, he dared to lift the covers and peek inside. One glance—he slammed them shut again and jumped out of bed.
He shakily searched for clothes—pieces were strewn from the living room to the bedroom door. Failing to find a shirt, he hastily put on pants and, bare-chested, tiptoed like a thief into the study and closed the door.
Once he was sure his voice wouldn’t carry, he grabbed his phone and dialed Zhou Hui’s number.
At the same time, in a duplex across the complex, Chu He was sipping coffee by the floor-to-ceiling windows when Zhou Hui’s phone rang on the dining table.
Zhou Hui was singing opera—Turandot, no less—in the shower. If he ever held a concert in the 33 heavens, divine punishment might rain down on them all. But after thousands of years of marriage, Chu He had long since stopped caring.
Unbothered by the screeching, he picked up the phone and answered calmly: “Hello?”
Yu Jingzhong’s voice was strained. “Where’s Zhou Hui?”
“Showering. What is it?”
Ten minutes later, Zhou Hui walked out drying his hair, only to see Chu He buttering toast—with an actual smile on his face.
Zhou Hui thought he was seeing things. He froze, stared for a while, then asked, “…What’s going on?”
“Deputy Yu called just now.”
“…Huh?”
“Nothing serious,” Chu He smiled and winked at him. “I just told him—there’s no such thing as a time machine.”
