After returning from the Qin family’s place, Qin Weidong went straight to the hotel to pick up Fang Li and take him to their new home.
It wasn’t the small villa they used to live in. This was a new place in Zishan District—currently the most expensive area in Jinyang. It was a standalone garden villa, a rare combination of central convenience and peaceful surroundings, developed by a rising real estate star from Shenzhen. The design team they hired had won international awards, and the interior was nothing short of lavish—bright, luxurious, exuding taste and sophistication at every turn.
Qin Weidong had been planning for their return even while they were still in New York. As Fang Li got out of the car and admired the beautiful house, Qin Weidong came around with their luggage from the trunk.
“Tomorrow, I’ll have Assistant Li take you to handle the paperwork. This house will be under your name.”
“In my name? Why?”
Qin Weidong replied casually, “Why not?”
He had never drawn lines between what was his and what was Fang Li’s. Whether it was money or property, whose name it was under didn’t matter. In fact, most things were in his name. He didn’t feel the need to use wealth to prove anything to Fang Li. As long as he was around, everything he had was Fang Li’s. Putting the house under Fang Li’s name was a decision he made after returning from the Qin family visit.
Fang Li didn’t care either—he didn’t think about things like that. He looked toward the fishpond in the yard. “Can we keep fish in there?”
“Sure,” Qin Weidong said. “But if you want to, tell me—I’ll hire someone to maintain it. You’re not doing it yourself.”
Their conversation sounded a lot like how they used to talk years ago. Fang Li hadn’t really changed much. The only difference was that their homes kept getting bigger and bigger. He laughed. “Qin Weidong… I’m already twenty-four. You’re not still worried I’ll fall in, are you?”
Qin Weidong didn’t even deny it. “I said you’re not doing it, so you’re not doing it.”
Alright… Fang Li had only been asking anyway. He stepped into the living room. “It’s just the two of us. Are we really going to use all this space?”
The truth was, the two of them probably weren’t ever going to have children.
But Qin Weidong didn’t care about that. In his eyes, all of that was just extra noise.
“You want a piano room, a vocal studio, a walk-in closet, and space for all those random records and CDs of yours… where do you think you’re going to put them? In the bedroom?”
“What do you mean, random?”
Qin Weidong picked him up, luggage in hand, and headed upstairs. “I’ll hire someone to organize it all for you.”
“That’s more like it.”
Fang Li wandered around the house, taking everything in. The interior was stunning. The enormous crystal chandelier spiraled down from the upper floor like a cascade of light. He stopped on the staircase and stretched out a hand, trying to see if he could reach it—only to be scolded by Qin Weidong.
Fine, fine. He pulled his hand back. He couldn’t reach it anyway.
But then he remembered—Qin Weidong was leaving for New York on the fifth of next month. And today was already the end of the month. The thought soured his mood, dulling even the excitement of moving into a dream home.
“You’re leaving on the fifth?” he asked softly.
“Yes.” There were still a lot of things waiting for Qin Weidong to take care of back in New York. “Come back with me, baby, okay?”
When he called him “baby,” Fang Li hesitated for a second. If he hadn’t signed the contract, he could have gone with Qin Weidong. He bit his lip. “But the music company in Hong Kong is about to release my album…”
He clearly couldn’t leave now. After working so hard and going in circles, this was what he’d been fighting for. But the thought of Qin Weidong leaving, of them being apart for half a year in different countries, made his chest tighten. It felt like someone had poured lemon juice into his heart, sour and stinging. He flopped onto the bed and curled up on his side.
Qin Weidong didn’t even have a chance to say anything before Fang Li got all sad on his own.
He took off his coat and leaned against the headboard, pulling Fang Li into his arms. “Then just come back with me. Simple as that.”
“And then what?” Fang Li mumbled into his chest. “Stay cooped up in the apartment all day, play the piano, wait for you to come home—like some little bird you’re keeping? You know what people call that here now?”
“What?”
Fang Li had been spending time at Waves, and the entertainment world was full of all kinds. He’d seen a lot, heard even more. “They call that being a sugar baby. Do you know how many rich guys in Jinyang have one? One at home, another outside. We even have a few girls in our company who are like that—kept women.”
Qin Weidong frowned. “Who told you that nonsense? If you’re the mistress, where’s the wife?”
Fang Li traced the tattoo on his wrist, laughing at how seriously he asked. “There is no ‘wife’ in that setup. You’re so old-fashioned!”
Qin Weidong didn’t care about being old-fashioned.
“I haven’t even told you—now that you’ve signed with the company, there are all kinds of shady people around. Don’t talk to them too much.”
Fang Li pouted. “So you’re the only decent one, huh?”
Qin Weidong looked at him seriously. “If you get close to anyone, tell me.”
“What, now I need approval to make friends too?” Fang Li grumbled. “Not that I’ve made any yet.”
He wasn’t sure why, but something about the way the other trainees looked at him made him uncomfortable.
Qin Weidong thought about it for a moment. He still didn’t feel at ease. The truth was, if Fang Li wasn’t within his line of sight, he couldn’t relax at all. “Baby, come back to New York with me. I promise—by the end of the year, I’ll bring you back, and you’ll still get your album release.”
He added, “If they won’t release it, I’ll do it myself.”
“Forget it. I don’t want that.” Fang Li rolled onto his stomach. “I want to make it on my own. I want to prove that I’m not some useless person… that I don’t need to rely on you for everything. If I have to depend on you for everything, how is that any different from how things used to be? You’re just raising a bird. No—raising a sugar baby!”
Qin Weidong frowned. “There’s no such thing as a sugar baby.” Then he asked, “Why do you keep bringing it up?”
“…It’s just an analogy, don’t take it literally,” Fang Li rolled his eyes and gave Qin Weidong a light push on the head. “Do you understand what a metaphor is?”
Qin Weidong didn’t care who the ‘sugar baby’ was. He grabbed Fang Li’s hand, his tone softening. “Lili, come back with me. You don’t have to cancel your contract. Just come back to New York. Whether you want to sing in an orchestra, play the piano, or perform—whatever it is—I won’t stop you.”
This was the third time Qin Weidong had said it.
Fang Li licked his lips, resting his cheek against the pillow. He didn’t say anything, lost in thought.
He loved music, yes. But deep down, nothing held more weight than Qin Weidong.
“Let me think about it…”
Qin Weidong could tell he was wavering. He was tempted to insist again, to just ask Fang Li to come back—he was sure Fang Li wouldn’t refuse.
Because they both knew—nothing mattered more than each other.
But looking at Fang Li with his eyes lowered, lying quietly on the pillow like that… Qin Weidong realized Fang Li couldn’t bear to give up this opportunity he had fought so hard to earn on his own.
A sharp pang struck his heart. This dream of Fang Li’s—he might not fully understand it, but he knew one thing clearly: He didn’t want his Fang Li to be troubled and heartbroken like this.
“Do you really want to stay here?”
Fang Li turned over and wrapped his arms around Qin Weidong’s neck, leaning in close. “I do… but I don’t want you to leave either.”
If anyone else had said that, it would’ve sounded selfish—wanting it both ways. But not Fang Li. He was truly torn, genuinely pained and conflicted.
So he spoke honestly, laying bare his hesitations and attachments—to both music and Qin Weidong.
“What should I do? Can you help me figure it out?”
He really didn’t know anymore. Fang Li pouted, kissing Qin Weidong again and again, asking him to come up with a solution.
Qin Weidong was overwhelmed by the onslaught of kisses—he’d lost count after a dozen. Fang Li’s saliva was smeared across his lips and chin. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then opened them again.
This time, he cradled the back of Fang Li’s head and kissed him fiercely—a long, hungry kiss that left Fang Li breathless.
“I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Qin Weidong said.
“Huh?” Fang Li touched his lips, now sore from all the kissing, and looked at him, confused.
Qin Weidong looked at him, still dazed, and forced the words out through clenched teeth. “I said, I’ll try to wrap up work over there as soon as possible and come back to find you. Wait for me here—by November at the latest.”
It took Fang Li a second to process what he meant—he was agreeing to let Fang Li stay in China, and they wouldn’t even have to wait until the end of the year to see each other again?
“Qin Weidong!” he cried out with joy, wrapping his arms around Qin Weidong’s neck and kissing him like an overjoyed little woodpecker.
“Really? Really? Really?”
He asked “really?” three times in a row, and that alone said how thrilled he was. Qin Weidong had a moment of regret—why had he blurted it out like that?
But seeing the pure happiness on Fang Li’s face, he couldn’t bring himself to take it back. He let out a deep breath. “Be good while you’re here, don’t make me worry, okay? I’ll be back soon.”
Since Qin Weidong said “soon,” it meant he truly would try to come back soon. He would do whatever it took to cut down his work and find time to return to China. Fang Li thought about it for a moment, then said, “I know. But don’t overwork yourself, okay?”
He’d seen Qin Weidong’s jam-packed work schedule back in New York—it was dizzying just to look at. He was genuinely worried he might collapse from exhaustion. He added, “If it takes a little longer, that’s okay too. If I miss you too much, I’ll just fly to New York.”
Then he said, “I’m feeling pretty much back to normal now—really. Flying doesn’t make me sick anymore. Even this last trip back—”
Qin Weidong gently unbuttoned Fang Li’s shirt and pressed a kiss to the scar on his chest.
The surgical scar from the open-heart procedure was still raw and harsh even three years later—but to Qin Weidong, it only stirred his deepest tenderness.
He would come back soon.
On the day he left, he didn’t let Fang Li see him off. Qin Zhengrong and Ye Yunshan were going to the airport anyway, and he didn’t want Fang Li to run into them—not yet.
Fang Li had already cried himself to sleep the night before and hadn’t slept a wink. His eyes were still puffy. Qin Weidong kissed him gently. “Wait for me, baby.”
Fang Li’s heart ached. He nodded obediently. Qin Weidong knew full well he hadn’t slept last night, so he gave himself plenty of time—kissing and soothing Fang Li until he drifted off before tiptoeing downstairs. His assistant was waiting to drive him to the airport.
When Fang Li finally woke up, his face and pillow were damp with tears. Qin Weidong had already left. The room still carried his scent. He’d left many of his clothes behind. Fang Li looked at his phone, reading the texts Qin Weidong had sent.
[There’s a new phone on the table. It’s already set up with a SIM card and has my number saved. Just use it.]
[Take good care of yourself. Don’t lose weight.]
[Boarding now. I’ll message you when I land.]
Qin Weidong hadn’t sent many messages, but just reading them made Fang Li want to cry again. He got out of bed, went to the walk-in closet, grabbed one of Qin Weidong’s shirts, and curled back up on the bed hugging it. Over and over, he read the few texts Qin Weidong had sent. The flight would take more than ten hours—they wouldn’t be able to talk during that time.
Before long, his phone rang. It was Yang Xiaoliu, asking where he was. They were scheduled to shoot the album cover that morning, and they needed to head over to the studio. He said he’d come by to pick him up.
Only then did Fang Li remember what Yang Yuecheng had told him the day before. He gave Xiaoliu the address.
When Yang Xiaoliu arrived, he was stunned by the neighborhood—nothing but freestanding villas. He recognized the name of the development: Junsheng Zhouting, the most expensive housing complex in Jinyang last year. He remembered it clearly because the actress he used to manage had begged a mining tycoon to buy her a house there—and the guy had been so shocked he ran for the hills.
He never expected Brother Li to actually live here.
After registering his name at the security gate, he was allowed in. Just one look at the place, and it was clear: only the seriously wealthy could afford to live here. He followed the house number Fang Li had given him and reached the villa’s front door, still a little in disbelief—until it opened and Fang Li appeared, wiping his face, clearly the one who had opened the door.
“B-Brother Li, you live here?”
With Qin Weidong gone, Fang Li looked a little listless. “Just moved in. What time’s the shoot again?”
“Nine-thirty…” Yang Xiaoliu suddenly gasped. He’d just caught sight of Fang Li’s swollen eyes. “Brother Li! What happened to your eyes? We’ve got to get something on that, quick—!”
Yang Xiaoliu immediately took two metal spoons from his backpack, placed them in the freezer for a while, then applied them to Fang Li’s eyes to reduce the swelling.
“Does this really work?”
“It totally works—don’t worry, Brother Li!”
Though young, Yang Xiaoliu had worked with several entertainers. After a short while of cold compressing, the swelling around Fang Li’s eyes had clearly gone down. Checking the time, Xiaoliu suggested they take a cab to the studio—the company would reimburse them. Fang Li asked, “Can you drive?”
Yang Xiaoliu blinked in surprise. “Of course I can.”
Fang Li couldn’t remember where Qin Weidong had left the car keys the day before. Qin Weidong didn’t like it when Fang Li always took cabs or rode in other people’s cars, picking up other people’s scent. So, he had bought him a car and arranged for an assistant to drive.
If this assistant couldn’t drive, Qin Weidong had said he’d have someone from his domestic team hire a driver for him once he got back to New York. When Fang Li heard that Xiaoliu could drive, he found the keys in a drawer and tossed them to him. “Then let’s drive there.”
“Oh—okay!”
Yang Xiaoliu caught the keys. When Fang Li led him into the garage and he saw a brand-new, latest-model white BMW parked there, he was too stunned for words.
He got into the car, then glanced back at Fang Li. The look on his face was a swirl of disbelief, awe, and confusion.
He debated whether to tell Fang Li—when he’d first signed with the company, a lot of people had whispered that some bosses in Jinyang had a thing for pretty boys. Plenty of folks even bet that, with looks like Fang Li’s, it wouldn’t be long before he was being “kept” by some rich coal tycoon.
But now, thinking of that villa just now, and the steering wheel he was holding in his hands, Yang Xiaoliu couldn’t help but wonder—if some boss really had taken a liking to Brother Li, well… maybe it wasn’t Fang Li being “kept.” Maybe it was the other way around.
Axolotl Translations 
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