Qin Weidong had just taken a full beating from Fang Li, right in the face and head.
“Enough…!”
Qin Weidong growled low, warning Fang Li to stop, but Fang Li wasn’t the least bit afraid. Gripping the pillow tighter, he slammed it toward him again. “Enough? What part of that felt like enough? I think we’re far from done!”
The European-style couch pillow wasn’t some soft, fluffy goose-feather cushion—it was firm, and its ornate edges, originally meant for decoration, now served as added damage. Fang Li might not be stronger than Qin Weidong, but he was still a grown man. Qin Weidong’s shoulder and half his face were numb from the blows.
“So tell me, when exactly are you going to fix your goddamn macho attitude?!”
Fang Li hurled the pillow hard against his shoulder.
Qin Weidong frowned. “Macho attitude?”
Fang Li was furious. He struck him again, harder. “Why are you repeating my words?! I’m asking you! Don’t you try to twist this!”
Qin Weidong took two more solid hits, dull thuds ringing out as they landed on his head and face. Fang Li raised the pillow again, but although Qin Weidong was now properly pissed off, he didn’t dare fight back.
Fang Li never held back when he got like this. All Qin Weidong could do was try to shield himself, not even daring to lift his arms too high, afraid he might hurt Fang Li in return. Still, the fire inside him was raging.
“I can’t even ask a question now? After getting beat like this, I can’t say a thing?”
“What are you trying to ask?”
Fang Li stopped, panting. Qin Weidong looked completely disheveled—half of his handsome face was red from the blows, and his hair was a mess. Who would’ve guessed that just hours ago, this same man had returned from abroad as the son of a provincial governor, the center of attention at an elite banquet under countless spotlights?
“This… ‘macho attitude’ you’re talking about—what exactly do you mean?”
Qin Weidong finally caught his breath. He picked a tuft of fluff off his head, frowned, and tossed it aside.
“You don’t know?”
“Should I?”
Fang Li nearly choked on rage. “Macho attitude? It’s people like you! Treating your partner like your personal property! Bossing them around whenever you feel like it!”
Qin Weidong, still fuming, looked at him and said, confused, “That’s what you call macho? But you are mine.”
If there were two absolute truths in Qin Weidong’s life, they were making money—and Fang Li. Both were clear, unwavering goals, and of the two, Fang Li was the one he could never, ever separate from.
He asked again, “When have I ever bossed you around?”
He pressed, “All these years, haven’t you been the one ordering me around? Tell me—what have you ever asked that I didn’t do? Not only did I do it, I rushed to make it happen. What more do you want from me? All I asked is that you not shoot that damn MV.” Was that really so hard?
Qin Weidong, usually so sparing with his words, suddenly let out so many—obviously pushed to his limit by Fang Li’s relentless barrage. Fang Li fell silent for a moment and then asked, “Alright, I agreed this time. But what about next time? This time it’s just a music video for Hong Kong and Taiwan. But what if I want to hold a concert next time? Then it won’t just be on a screen—thousands of fans will be watching me live. You still won’t allow it?”
Fang Li and Qin Weidong had argued before. If he really bowed his head on this, he could do it—but then what? He’d already learned his lesson once. For more than a decade, he kept thinking, “Let it go, let it go,” always backing down, and that only made Qin Weidong’s need to control grow worse, until it all blew up during that charity show. He’d already paid the price once.
He lifted his head and looked at Qin Weidong’s expression, and just like that, he knew the answer. He knew this was how it would be… Did he really expect Qin Weidong to reflect or change?
No—it was just temporary sweet talk to calm him down. That guy would never truly reflect. Or maybe he’d never truly listened to what was being said in the first place.
All the talk about kneeling for six nights? Fang Li was sure Qin Weidong wouldn’t understand even if he knelt for a lifetime.
Feeling completely deflated, Fang Li tossed the cushion aside. “You just got back. Let’s not argue. Go to sleep.”
As he left, Qin Weidong noticed the red rim around Fang Li’s eyes.
Qin Weidong was very sensitive to Fang Li’s tears—he could recognize the look just before, during, and after crying as if it were tattooed in his brain. It pulled him back to himself immediately and made him sober up.
Fang Li didn’t want to deal with him. It should have been a happy night—Qin Weidong finally back in the country! He’d been waiting and thinking about this for so many sleepless nights, so why start fighting right away?
Was this the “seven-year itch” between them? If so, they still had a year to go.
Fang Li lay alone on the big bed, hugging the blanket, burying his face in the pillow, lost in a mess of thoughts.
Not long after, the bedroom door opened. Fang Li didn’t want to turn or speak; he just kept his eyes closed. Sure enough, the bed shifted as Qin Weidong leaned over him.
“Did I hurt you?”
He reached under the blanket to feel Fang Li’s hand, but Fang Li wasn’t having it—he pushed away and said, “Go away… don’t touch me.”
Wrapped tightly in the blanket, Fang Li wouldn’t let him get close at all.
With no way in, Qin Weidong thought for a moment, then bent down and asked, “Are you tired from hitting me?”
Thinking about how heavy that cushion was to swing—powerful enough to hit hard—Fang Li’s thin arms must’ve been exhausted after all those strikes, especially since he swung so high and so hard every time. Qin Weidong’s eyebrows knit. “There were so many things on the coffee table. Why’d you have to pick that one?”
That made Fang Li furious. “I should’ve thrown the teacup at you! Go get it!”
Qin Weidong stared at him. “You really gonna do it?”
Fang Li glared. “I will!”
Whether Fang Li actually cried or not, Qin Weidong was terrified of seeing his tears. If anyone else made Fang Li cry, Qin Weidong would make them pay back tenfold.
But if he himself was the reason… it felt like stepping on a red-hot iron, lost with no way out—burning his feet but unable to escape.
Fang Li saw that Qin Weidong actually got up to get the teacup and couldn’t help but laugh at how this man sometimes completely ignored what he said, driving him crazy—but other times actually took every word seriously, without question.
Not long after, Qin Weidong brought over a cup. Fang Li glanced at it—it was half full of warm water. Qin Weidong said, “Drink it. Throw it after you finish. You didn’t have water earlier. You’ll be thirsty tomorrow morning.”
This was a small habit Fang Li had picked up in the U.S.—if he took a bath and didn’t drink water, he’d often wake up parched in the middle of the night. It hadn’t been an issue before he had a bathtub, but after getting one, it happened several times. Qin Weidong had remembered.
Qin Weidong checked his phone, replied to two work messages, and waited. He just stood there waiting—as if Fang Li drinking the water was more important than getting hit with a cup.
Fang Li drank the water. When he finished, Qin Weidong saw there wasn’t a drop left and stepped back a little. He didn’t think it was embarrassing—he’d been hit by Fang Li plenty of times. One more didn’t matter. It was at home, anyway. No one would see.
Standing firm, Qin Weidong added, “You can throw things at me at home. Just not outside.”
Fang Li looked at him. The man stood there, unmoving, as if even if a porcelain cup came flying at him the next second, he wouldn’t flinch. Fang Li’s blood pressure shot up. He got a terrible headache. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Qin Weidong, we need to talk.”
Qin Weidong glanced at him in surprise—startled that he hadn’t thrown the cup and was willing to speak instead.
The vessels in Fang Li’s head were pounding, blood rushing up. He felt like if he let Qin Weidong keep making him this mad, he really might die young. He glared. “Are you getting addicted to being hit?”
Of course not. Qin Weidong walked over, confirming Fang Li was only angry now, not hurt like earlier. He pulled him into an embrace. Fang Li didn’t push him away, only nudged him. “Loosen up… We’re supposed to be talking.”
Qin Weidong relaxed his hold a little, but then leaned in again, kissing Fang Li’s neck, one kiss after another.
What had happened in the bathroom earlier wasn’t nearly enough for a man who hadn’t seen Fang Li in half a year.
“Sometimes I just can’t control my temper,” Qin Weidong murmured in repentance.
Fang Li scoffed. “As if I don’t know what kind of temper you have? The real issue is your attitude… Do you even remember what I said to you last time?”
Fang Li continued, “Shooting an MV is just part of the job. What singer doesn’t do it? And it’s just a video—through a screen. What if I have a concert someday? Thousands of people watching me live. There’ll be fan signings too, maybe even photos, handshakes—”
“Handshakes?”
Qin Weidong’s expression instantly sharpened with alertness. “Handshakes with you?”
Fang Li looked at him and gave in. “Fine, fine—no handshakes. That part’s not happening, okay?”
Tonight’s MV already pushed him to the edge. Any more might really drive Qin Weidong over it. The man wasn’t made of stone.
Qin Weidong thought it over and said, “You said that yourself.”
“…..”
Fang Li said helplessly, “Yes, yes, I agreed to it myself. So I’ve compromised too. Can’t you show me some respect? Respect my career? Please? I’ve told you so many times—I don’t want to rely on you for everything. This is part of my job. Otherwise, why do you think so many people get to hear my songs? See me? Just because I sing well? Because I’m good-looking? There are plenty of people out there who sing better and look better than me. Do you know how many people dream of becoming stars, releasing albums? How many of them would kill for the chance I have?”
“You don’t need to dream. You don’t even have to try so hard.” Qin Weidong cut him off, frowning. “I work this hard every day just so you don’t have to dream anymore. I have the ability to give you everything you want.”
Fang Li hadn’t expected Qin Weidong to respond so seriously. What he’d said just now came from the heart. After spending so long at the company, seeing what he’d seen, he increasingly realized that the world wasn’t always fair. Not everything was as wonderful as Qin Weidong tried to make it seem.
“I know you do…”
Fang Li softened. He wrapped his arms around Qin Weidong’s neck, pressing close and hugging him tightly.
He cared deeply for this person. No matter how much they argued, how many disagreements they had, he still felt a strong connection. Even though Qin Weidong wasn’t one to speak sweet words often, over the years, he’d steadily fulfilled his promises through his actions. Whatever he had, he gave Fang Li the best.
Whether he was just Qin Weidong or Qin Weidong, the son of Qin Zhengrong—whether they were young, squeezed together on a narrow, rickety bed at the mine, or now, lying in a luxury villa on a bed worth tens of thousands—this part of him had never changed.
“I’m not trying to force you into anything… I know your personality, and and I’m learning how to make you less angry. At the very least… I’ll be more mindful from now on, no more physical contact with others, okay?” Fang Li said, “Singing is something I love, Qin Weidong. Maybe you can’t imagine how I feel standing on stage. There aren’t many things I’m truly good at in this life. I’m not like you—you excel at everything. I only have this one thing. But it comes from the heart. I love it. I want it…”
Fang Li didn’t need to dress up his words with phrases like dreams or pure love of music. He spoke plainly to Qin Weidong: he liked it, he wanted it, and he enjoyed the sense of achievement that came from standing on a stage under the spotlight.
Qin Weidong listened in silence for a long while. Then, at last, he said, “You like it.”
Fang Li nodded. “I do.”
Qin Weidong took a deep breath and repeated, “You like it.”
Fang Li nodded again. “I do.”
Qin Weidong closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “If I let you do what you love… does that count as respecting you?”
Fang Li smiled. “Of course it counts…!”
Fang Li knew that you couldn’t keep scolding someone like Qin Weidong—he’d only get angry. He wrapped his arms around him and kissed his ear. “It totally counts. You respect me, and that makes me happy. I like it.”
Qin Weidong opened his eyes after being kissed. Looking at Fang Li in front of him, he remembered years ago, when he had nothing, and saw someone selling baskets of pearls by the roadside. He’d only had enough money to buy one, so he picked the prettiest one and gave it to Fang Li.
Back then, he made a promise to himself: one day, he would present Fang Li with the best the world had to offer. Only the best was worthy of his Fang Li.
Qin Weidong said softly, “I’m twenty-four this year.”
Fang Li blinked. “Hm?”
Qin Weidong said slowly, “When I was eighteen, I promised you something. And I’ve done it. Lili, I’m twenty-four now. And I’ll keep learning. I’ll learn… to respect you.”
Axolotl Translations 
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