The bastard Fu Ruien had taken a liking to Qiu Qiu and was determined to get his hands on him.
Fu Ruien had kept young male companions before. His taste had remained unchanged for over a decade; several of those young men could have been cast from the same mold: white dress shirts, sneakers, short black hair, backpacks—the type you'd find on a shelf that little girls would buy to play house with their Barbie dolls.
At first, everyone thought he was an old cow eating tender grass. Later, rumors gradually spread that Fu Ruien had an unforgettable first love who fit exactly this type, so people began praising him instead for being unable to forget an old flame.
But all those previous young men had come to him willingly. Qiu Qiu was different; Qiu Qiu was the first one Fu Ruien had ever taken a fancy to and actively wanted to keep.
For most people, when they encounter someone they fancy, their first thought is how to "pursue" them. But Fu Ruien was used to solving problems with money. Moreover, he was already pushing forty in nominal age, having no time, patience, or energy to coax a young boy into a relationship. He simply wanted to define this connection through a patronage arrangement.
What's so great about patronage?
One provides money, the other provides affection. It starts when you say it starts, ends when you say it ends, and the initiative always remains firmly in his own hands.
He ordered his secretary to investigate Qiu Qiu's family background, though the problem was his secretary had never done such a shady thing before. Cursing inwardly, the secretary still diligently went to investigate.
Three days later, the secretary submitted a twenty-page spreadsheet detailing Qiu Qiu's family situation. The secretary was actually quite apprehensive because, to be honest, Qiu Qiu's family circumstances... were not easy to "package."
The Qiu family seemed ordinary, but everyone in the household was an intellectual. Qiu's father was devoted to literature, currently serving as the chief editor of a language and literature publishing house, having overseen the compilation of dictionaries, reference books, and language textbooks—his name was printed on the title pages of teaching materials. Qiu's mother, relatively more of a career woman, was currently the dean of a dispatched Confucius Institute. Beyond that, all of Qiu Qiu's relatives were teachers, a standard scholarly family.
Qiu Qiu had been outstanding since childhood—in looks and in grades. Moreover, this kid had never taken a single wrong step, always the center of attention wherever he went.
The secretary earnestly advised, "Boss, this kid really is quite difficult to get to..."
What kind of holes would a kid from a well-off family, living a perfectly good life, have in his head to come be kept by an old man?
Fu Ruien thought for a moment and said, "Then let him come after me."
"..."
"Arrange to meet him at the coffee shop near his school. Say I think he's very outstanding and want to sponsor him with a scholarship in a private capacity."
"...Boss, will that work?"
Fu Ruien was blunt: "Who doesn't love money?"
Right, who doesn't love money? Hearing that a wealthy patron wanted to sponsor his scholarship, Qiu Qiu arrived overjoyed. But when he got to the coffee shop, he found the sponsor wasn't crude at all; instead, he was handsome and mature. Qiu Qiu's eyes instantly glued onto him.
This well-dressed beast Fu Ruien, despite having a heart as black as could be, was utterly impeccable in appearance. He was elegant and distinguished, his every move exuding the perfect demeanor of a successful man. Qiu Qiu was only twenty-one; where had he ever seen an elder with such depth and substance? Before two sentences were exchanged, his mind had already flown away.
Watching Qiu Qiu's shy, timid face, Fu Ruien thought triumphantly, this is in the bag.
Gazing at him with longing and anticipation, Qiu Qiu was actually thinking: If only my dad's hairline could be half as intact as Boss Fu's, how great would that be?
They started talking face-to-face across the coffee table, but at some point, Qiu Qiu ended up sitting next to Fu Ruien.
Actually, Fu Ruien felt the distance was still a bit far; he wished Qiu Qiu would sit on his lap.
Feeling the timing was right, Fu Ruien gently placed his hand over Qiu Qiu's on the table, looking at him intently without a word, just smiling meaningfully.
Qiu Qiu blushed under his gaze and grinned foolishly along, the little dimple on his right cheek sinking deeply, utterly adorable. He completely failed to realize the older man was taking advantage, still thinking there was nothing to two men holding hands.
Fu Ruien said, "Actually, I noticed you at the opening ceremony. You were pulling a cart of flowers past me, but the scent of the flowers wasn't as fragrant as yours."
This was already quite blatant flirtation.
Unfortunately, Qiu Qiu didn't get it and was still being modest: "Oh, not at all. That day I was using the jasmine-scented Six God Florida Water."
"..." Fu Ruien changed the subject. "You're a smart kid. You should understand why I called you out alone and why I'm talking to you so much, right?"
"I understand." Qiu Qiu thought, I know, I know, didn't you say you wanted to sponsor my scholarship?
"So, are you willing?"
Qiu Qiu nodded very obediently. Every part of him was beautiful, especially his large eyes, truly like glass marbles, crystal clear, able to see right into a person's heart.
He looked like the kind of kid with no ulterior motives, very honest and well-behaved. Although sometimes his words were a bit silly, that was good. Fu Ruien wanted a kept young companion, not a concubine who would constantly fight for this and demand that—too much trouble.
Fu Ruien desperately wanted to drag Qiu Qiu to the nearby love hotel right then and there, but before he could make a move, his secretary called, saying there was a last-minute transoceanic meeting in the afternoon requiring Fu Ruien's presence to steer the ship.
Fu Ruien wasn't the type to forget work while immersed in a tender embrace. No matter how good the young companion, without work, how could he afford the patronage? So Fu Ruien hurriedly put on his coat and left. Before going, he took out a supplementary credit card and slid it over to Qiu Qiu as his "patronage fee."
Qiu Qiu had never seen a black card before and excitedly turned it over in his hands, examining it. Only then did he remember he hadn't asked about the scholarship amount.
Fu Ruien's credit card, of course, had no limit and could be spent freely. But Fu Ruien, afraid of spoiling the boy's appetite, held up a hand showing the number "five."
"This much per year."
Truly a big boss, casually offering five hundred thousand in spending money.
Qiu Qiu, however, took it as a fifty-thousand-yuan annual scholarship. Wow, even higher than the National Scholarship.
He then asked, "What's the PIN?"
"My birthday."
Qiu Qiu, completely oblivious, asked, "So when is your birthday?"
"...Look it up on Baidu yourself."
Fu Ruien was busy with work, Qiu Qiu was busy with studies; they met less than twice a month. Their meetings always took place at the Xiangjiang Villa. Coincidentally, Fu Ruien always ended up unable to stay the night for various reasons. Whenever they had a little free time, Qiu Qiu would play the guitar for him, cook for him, tell him funny stories from his life.
Qiu Qiu thought he was enthusiastic about public welfare, caring for a lonely, middle-aged old man. Yet Fu Ruien thought he was trying to please his patron.
Precisely because Fu Ruien was overly proud and Qiu Qiu overly oblivious, they had been talking past each other for several months without ever clarifying their relationship to each other.
And so, the landmine buried for three months finally exploded today.
...
Fu Ruien forced himself to suppress his anger as he finished the afternoon's work. As soon as the workday ended, he had his driver take him to Xiangjiang Villa. Normally, Fu Ruien drove himself, but his emotions were too volatile today; he was afraid he'd drive like he was in a bumper car.
It wasn't just him who was in a bad mood; Qiu Qiu was also feeling very anxious inside.
What on earth was going on? How did his gentle and considerate godfather suddenly become a sugar daddy? When exactly did this transformation happen? How could he have no memory of it at all?
In his anxiety, Qiu Qiu took a shower. Anxiously, he applied a face mask. Anxiously, he watered the plants. Anxiously, he hung up the laundry. Anxiously, he waxed the first-floor floorboards. Then, still anxious, he stewed a pot of rock sugar and snow fungus soup. Anxiously, he tasted it and was relieved to find his cooking skills hadn't deteriorated. Finally, seeing he still had some time, he anxiously played a round of "King of Glory."
When Fu Ruien entered the house, he saw Qiu Qiu sitting cross-legged on the sofa, complaining into his phone about his teammates feeding kills to the enemy.
Seeing Qiu Qiu acting so carefree, Fu Ruien's anger flared up instantly.
He tossed his jacket aside and spoke with a heavy, angry tone: "Qiu Qiu."
Qiu Qiu immediately scrambled up from the sofa. He stood ramrod straight, as proper as a soldier being disciplined during military training, his hands pressed tightly against his trouser seams—all in an effort to suppress the shock and fear in his heart.
Qiu Qiu lowered his eyes and said meekly, "Godfather, please don't call me by my full name, I... I get scared."
Fu Ruien had actually always had a question about this: "...How can you tell I'm calling your full name?"
The pronunciation of "Qiu Qiu" (his full name) and "Qiu Qiu" (the affectionate form) is exactly the same.
Qiu Qiu explained, "I judge by the tone. The tone you just used sounded like a head teacher..."
"..." Fu Ruien thought of that old man in his sixties, dressed in flamboyant reds and greens, whom he'd seen at an alumni meeting. Suppressing the fury in his heart, he deliberately softened his voice and called out again: "...Qiu Qiu."
"Yes!" Qiu Qiu answered promptly, but the expression on his face twisted even more: "...That time you sounded like my mom."
"..."
