Chapter Text
Money is the root of all of Shang Qinghua’s problems.
It’s a cliche saying but, as many vitriolic commentators who still spend money subscribing to whatever he barfs up and posts on Zhongdian say, Shang Qinghua is not necessarily the most creative when it comes to describing emotional strife.
Money, or lack thereof, is the reason he works two jobs and collects scraps writing stallion novels online at a breakneck pace. Specifically, it’s his father’s lack of money that has put him in this predicament where he feels like his body is running a hundred miles per hour for eighteen hours a day with no rest.
Shang Qinghua wishes he was born into money like his magnanimous yet a little mean roommate. Or alternatively, he wishes he just didn’t care enough. For a long time, he didn’t, but his dad had cheerfully let him know that given his age, the heavy debt he incurred from his failed business would not just be his father’s but Shang Qinghua’s in time as well.
So.
Money is the reason that on a weeknight, after ten gruelling hours at the office, Shang Qinghua finds himself in a suit that’s a little better fitting than the one he wears to the office, grinning at a group of ladies as he tries to convince them to let him be their host for the night.
They like longer hair at the host club and he’s got his own pulled back, messy bangs falling over his face like he’s a cartoon character. He’s glad they don’t make him wear makeup here because he tried once, and he looked very much like a rat that had gotten dragged through a well of ink. The back of his neck itches but he forgoes it for schmoozing with the women who hopefully will take pity on him and let him entertain them.
They’re rather taken by how “earnest” Hua-di looks, something that’s been Shang Qinghua’s selling feature. He’s practiced a lot in front of his bathroom mirror, Shen Yuan an avid critic in the back. He knows it’s code-word for simple but he doesn’t care; whatever gets him a hefty tip for the night.
“You’re so adorable!” One of them squeals as Shang Qinghua flags down a passing waiter to grab a bottle of champagne. His stomach slightly turns at that— being called adorable often leads to him getting passed over for someone sexy but if he can just get these ladies seated…
“Hua-di!” A voice calls from behind, and Shang Qinghua looks over his shoulder. His manager is waving at him frantically and Shang Qinghua tries to communicate through frantic blinking that he has paying customers.
His manager in turn gives him a glare that says Shang Qinghua has less than five seconds to make it across the lounge.
“Ah, ladies, if you’ll excuse me…” Shang Qinghua bows in apology and scurries, cursing under his breath. His stingy asshole of a manager probably wants to pick on Shang Qinghua because Shang Qinghua’s hair is slightly out of place and it’s cause to cut his wages for the night by five percent.
When he gets there, his manager barely gives him a moment to speak.
“You’ve been requested in one of the VIP rooms,” the manager says, and Shang Qinghua balks for a moment.
“Uhh…” Shang Qinghua trails off, trying to remember any of his regulars that would be able to afford having him host in the VIP lounge.
He can’t remember; he’s got a minimal amount of them, most of whom like to cheap out after the first bottle. One of them barely buys more than a couple of drinks because he thinks they share a connection beyond this shitty host club and subsequently, he doesn’t need to pay as much for the time they share. Shang Qinghua hates him an incredible amount.
“The Black Viper lounge,” the manager says, and Shang Qinghua chokes on his own spit. “Don’t look at me like that, I double checked it was you that they wanted. They asked for you by name.”
By name! In the most expensive lounge! Only expensive because it actually was a closed room and it was a smoking lounge that took some rapid, heavy-duty cleaning to get out the smell before the next customer but still!
Who—?
Shang Qinghua remembers the fact that he’s got to send his father a chunk of money tomorrow, and immediately straightens up. It’s not like it matters who requested him; all that matters is that it’ll make his bank account look a little less desolate. He puts on a smile that makes his manager roll his eyes and give him a flat look.
“Take these,” he passes Shang Qinghua a lean box. It’s got two cigars, the expensive kind and Shang Qinghua squints to read the name stamped on the side so he can pretend he knows what he’s talking about. “The bottles are already in.”
Dutifully, Shang Qinghua takes the cigars and winds his way through the busy lounge, wondering just who the hell would book a VIP room and request him.
Realistically, Shang Qinghua is aware of his limitations. He’s not bad to look at, but he’s not searingly sexy like some of the tall and elegant hosts. He’s not quite at the threshold of cuteness of some of the others, but hey— he’s got something that managed to get him his job here.
And apparently get him requested in a VIP room.
Shang Qinghua clears his throat as he approaches the fake-gilded doors. One of the waiters slides the door open quicker than he’d like, but that’s fine. He plasters on his best smile, one that kind of makes him look deranged but works in low lighting with people who have been drinking, and steps into the lounge.
It’s a fairly large room, just a little smaller than his apartment, equipped with a full bar at the entrance. The bartender flashes him a thumbsup as he enters and tips his head towards the L-section at the back of the room. The place is bathed in red, a painting of a large black snake with golden detailing stretching around the room.
(The snake is a newer addition. The lights for the room have been permanently dimmed after the owner’s daughter painted the snake, mostly so that nobody notices that she had no talent and the face of the snake kind of looks like a dog.)
Two men in business suits sit on the L-section, one partially hidden under the shadow cast by one of the shelves of alcohol. Shang Qinghua gestures behind his back for the bartender to slowly turn the lights up just enough for him to see their faces.
“Hello sirs,” Shang Qinghua says as he approaches and—
—Woah.
Well.
He’s definitely not seen these two before. They are way more handsome than the regular clientele.
They both sit, impressive and imposing in the red light of the lounge. Both of them look like something out of a novel in different ways, with their dark hair and sharp features and extremely expensive clothes. One man looks a little more boyish, with the corner of his mouth slightly ticked up. He’s got a glass of whiskey in his hand and Shang Qinghua almost panics till he sees the bottles in the bucket have yet to be touched.
His friend mirrors him in position. That second man, the one that had been hidden under the shadow, is even more imposing. Intimidating even; his face is masculine and incredibly handsome, jaw cut strong and defined. It’s clear that his suit is expensive and tailored, by the way it stretches beautifully over his broad shoulders as he slings an arm across the back of the sofa.
The two of them are so incredibly handsome that Shang Qinghua thinks that for a moment, they may have the wrong place. They probably meant to go to one of the higher class bars, one where there’s someone hotter who shares Shang Qinghua’s nickname.
The second man flickers his eyes towards Shang Qinghua, looking simultaneously lazy and expectant, and Shang Qinghua remembers himself.
Well even if it’s a mix up, they’re stuck with him now! No refunds!
“Ah, here, compliments of the manager,” Shang Qinghua sets the cigar box down on the obsidian-coloured table in front of them. “Shall I—?”
The first man shakes his head, while the second man looks at him with the same expectant eyes. Shang Qinghua knows when someone wants him to do something, and he immediately sets to snipping the end of the cigar with his (fake) gold-plated cutters. He proferrs it up and the man takes it, his hands distractingly large.
Shang Qinghua digs out his (fake) gold-plated lighter and leans in; the man mirrors him, looking up at Shang Qinghua through thick lashes.
Don’t stutter! Don’t stutter! He’s a customer! That alone should drop him by a thousand cool points!!
Except it doesn’t. Shang Qinghua lights the cigar and is almost mesmerized by the way the man leans back, looking at him with an assessing glance. It almost feels like a glare, his eyes looking like they have a perpetual storm coursing through.
He ducks just in time to miss the first bellow of smoke, and the man hums in approval at the taste of the cigar. The smoke makes him want to cough a little, but Shang Qinghua braves through.
“Do you want the scotch, sir?” he asks both the man in front of him, and his friend, who seems to be… smirking? Behind his glass? “Or maybe I can get you a gin and dubonnet?”
There’s silence for a few more moments, punctuated by the exhale and another cloud of smoke. Shang Qinghua eyes the couch, trying to find where to sit. The two of them have sprawled enough that he’d have to climb over either of them to get to the space in the middle, or sit on the edge. He decides to go with the latter, picking up a decanter from the ice bucket and one of the crystal glasses on the table.
He slides up beside the cigar guy, who barely pays him any attention. Shang Qinghua is fine with that; he opens the decanter and tips it into the glass, as he starts to chit chat.
“So, what brings you two here?” Shang Qinghua starts. “Aside from the stellar company, heh. Would you like me to turn on the karaoke, maybe? Or I can mix you two a drink, don’t tell the bartender but I’ve got a couple of new drinks up my sleeve that are better than anything he can ever make...”
Shang Qinghua is burning to ask why did they request him? How do they even know of him? A small niggling feeling wonders if they’re debt collectors looking for his father, but he figures that if they were they’d show up at his apartment like the last one did. Those stingy bastards wouldn’t pay even a penny for this room!
“You are Hua-di, correct?” Cigar man says, and Shang Qinghua almost does a double take at his voice. It’s a rich and low voice, deep and heady enough to match the man that it belongs to.
“Yes sir,” Shang Qinghua replies cheerfully and wow. Shang Qinghua notices the proximity of his body, notices that he’s taller than Shang Qinghua. The man smells expensive, like bergamot and cedarwood. He holds himself with surety, like he’s already made himself home on this sprawling couch.
It’s not that he’s never seen an attractive customer before. He’s just never actually been in this close proximity to one. Actually, he doesn’t think he’s ever been in close proximity to anyone this handsome, ever. Man, this guy is stupidly good looking. Definitely one for the books—
“Quit.”
...
Huh??
“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” Shang Qinghua tries to say good naturedly, smile frozen on his face, ignoring the fact that the man had spoken loudly and succinctly. The man turns to look at him, thick brows furrowed. Shang Qinghua feels like he’s being evaluated, and it makes him want to squirm.
The man’s friend snorts.
“I said quit,” the man says in a matter-of-fact way, like he’s justified in his rudeness. “I came here to tell you to quit. This job is meaningless.”
“What, you planning to pay my rent?“ Shang Qinghua tries to keep it light and playful, tries to not let his bewilderment show through. “Sir, if you’re seeking that kind of arrangement, you just have to say…”
The man is having none of it.
“Stop working a job that’s clearly not suited for you just so you can pay off a debt.”
What! The! Fuck!
Who the hell was this man! Shang Qinghua swallows, remembers he’s at work and that no matter how annoying or weird or intrusive a customer may be, it’s up to him to be the professional.
“I’m not doing this because of any debts,” Shang Qinghua lies sweetly, but the man clearly does not buy it. “I don’t know what—“
“If I cut you a cheque for ten million yuan right now, left it on the table, you wouldn’t be saying that, would you?” The man takes another draw out of his cigar, this time exhaling the smoke out his nose like a dragon. “You don’t have to pretend you have pride in humiliating yourself like this.”
What a fucking weirdo.
Shang Qinghua’s fingers twitch around the glass he had been about to offer the man. It’s tempting to throw the liquid on the man, give him a good splash. What kind of asshole came and talked like this! Who was he to say what Shang Qinghua did and didn’t do! It was honest work!
“It is honest work,” the man agrees and Shang Qinghua flinches, cursing himself for saying the last part out loud. “But it’s clearly not a job you’re cut out for.”
Well...ouch. Shang Qinghua winced internally, his ego having been dealt a critical hit. It isn’t the first time someone’s tried to poke at him like this but it is one of the rare times it’s actually had an effect on him. He thinks the last time was when he was still fresh on this job and trying to find his legs. His stomach does something weird, flipping before it settles into something that feels like anger.
Probably because this is all coming unsolicited from a man who he’s never even seen before.
“I’ll arrange for a different host to meet you,” Shang Qinghua says, voice still polite. He needs to get out before he does something stupid, like yell at the client. His yelling is never effective anyways; Shen Yuan always tells him it’s very easy to tune out. “Since my presence clearly displeases you.”
He makes to move, but a hand grabs his wrist. That feels like the final straw for Shang Qinghua.
“That’s not what I meant,” the man says. Instantly, Shang Qinghua yanks and leaps onto his feet, rounding on the man.
It feels like he’s hit some sort of limit. Who even was this guy? What the hell!
“Whose business is it if I work here?” Shang Qinghua demands, glaring at the man. “And who the hell are you?”
The cigar man frowns, while his friend raises his eyebrows, still immensely entertained. Shang Qinghua continues, even louder, because once he starts rambling, it’s hard to put a stopper in it. The words just pour out without thought.
“Why are you running your mouth like you know me? What, you think I have no pride?” Oh, if words get back to his manager, he’s going to kill Shang Qinghua. “Just because you can probably wave your wallet at your problems doesn’t mean you have any! Thinking you can go around telling people how to live because if you don’t have anything to protect, if you don’t have anything important to you, that means no one else does either— I can’t stand people like you! You’re the one with no pride!”
Shang Qinghua is practically panting at the end of it, the sound of his breathing the only thing filling the room. Even the bartender has stopped clinking around in the back. The two men stare at Shang Qinghua, and Shang Qinghua does his best not to waver in the way he looks back.
Finally, the silence is punctuated by the mean leaning forward to put his cigar out in the abandoned glass of scotch. He says nothing, but his friend tries to in a placating tone. Sort of. Well if Shang Qinghua is being honest, it actually kind of sounds bored.
“I think it’ll be best to forget the last few minutes happened,” the friend says. “Let’s not let this ruin our evening.”
“Get out! Don’t come here again!” The words slip out of Shang Qinghua’s mouth before he can even think about it and he immediately regrets it. He’s not been this forward in getting mad at a customer before, but he can’t help it.
Who did this man think he was!
“Fine,” the man says, brushing off the front of his suit before his face slips into something neutral. “We’re leaving.”
Somehow, even expressionless this man looks stern. He and his friend stand up and Shang Qinghua steals one last look. The man looks down at him, assessing again, and Shang Qinghua makes sure to glare back. They leave without a word, and as soon as the doors slide shut behind him, Shang Qinghua’s shoulders slump.
When his manager finally hears about this, he’s so screwed.
Shang Qinghua gets fired.
It’s not a surprise that he got fired for kicking out a high paying customer just because his feelings got hurt but nonetheless, it makes him incredibly pissed off. He takes it out by getting really drunk with Shen Yuan in their kitchen, cursing annoying rich men to the high heavens, starting a fight online as a guest commentator on one of his own posts, and waking up the next morning with the mother of all hangovers.
He only makes it to his day job on time through sheer determination. Even there, he ignores his overly friendly co-workers in favour of clacking away a little too hard on his computer keys.
What the hell was he going to do now!
Shang Qinghua wasn’t the greatest host but he made a decent enough amount of money and the place wasn’t too far away from his apartment. He’s going to have to find a new job quickly— Shen Yuan says he’ll cover their rent for the next month (read: Shen Yuan’s father will cover the rent) but that’s not the only bill that looms over Shang Qinghua’s head. His own dad has a big chunk of money due soon and without Shang Qinghua’s help, there’s a big chance he’s going to be getting an unpleasant visit.
The memory of the two men, specifically the stern looking one floats in front of his head. As Shang Qinghua frowns at his computer screen, trying to keep his brain focused on his main job, he keeps mentally throwing darts at that stupidly handsome face.
Really, maybe Shang Qinghua shouldn’t have let him affect him like that. But what an incredibly unpleasant man.
Well, at least Shang Qinghua can cut his hair now. It’s only by the grace of his floor manager not noticing him that Shang Qinghua has gotten away with letting his hair get long.
“Shang Qinghua!” A voice calls to him and Shang Qinghua spins in his chair, trying to look over the cubicle farm. He sees his manager wave at him, and he immediately stands up and hurries over. He sees Ning Yingying tip back in her chair, curious, and he tries to subtly wave her off.
“What did you do?” His manager says, looking kind of frazzled. Shang Qinghua blinks.
“Huh?”
“You got directly called to the president’s office.” his manager says and frowns. She narrows her eyes in his direction, and Shang Qinghua feels his soul leave his body.
He tries to rack his brain and think of all the stupid things he’s done in the course of this job, ever. Tries to comb through all the tiny mistakes he made others cover up for him, tries to think of the shortcuts he’s taken. His manager starts to walk him to the elevator and Shang Qinghua is drawing a blank as to what exactly would get him called all the way up to the thirtieth floor of the building to the president’s office.
Maybe they found out about his side job? Either the hosting or the stallion novels... But that wouldn’t be enough to get him in this big trouble, right? Well the stallion novels might. They do get really explicit with the warm wetness and the heaving bosoms and all the other junk Shang Qinghua throws in there to pay the bills.
Before he knows it, he’s standing in front of the heavy and imposing door of the president’s office. His manager knocks, and sticks her head in before she allows Shang Qinghua to come in. He tries to sneak a peak but she’s skilled in how she blocks the entry way. He’s never seen the president of the company before, barely cares enough about the corporate structure to look it up online, just knows he’s got a name that sounds both regal and weirdly archaic.
“I’ve brought Shang Qinghua,” his manager says, and he hears a voice from the other end.
“Thank you,” it replies. “You can leave now.”
The voice sounds oddly familiar, but Shang Qinghua is so busy internally panicking that it doesn’t really click from where till his manager is subtly shoving him into the room and closing the door behind him.
Oh shit.
For the second time, for real this time, Shang Qinghua feels his soul leave his body as he gets levelled with a piercing blue gaze.
The man from yesterday is leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his broad chest. He’s dressed as impeccably now and somehow, despite the office being flooded with daylight and not tacky red club lights, he looks even scarier now.
“Why are you here!” Shang Qinghua squeaks, and immediately clamps his mouth shut. The man quirks an eyebrow, and unfolds his arms.
“This is my office,” the man replies in a matter-of-fact manner. “You told me not to come to your other work anymore, so I called you here.”
Shang Qinghua can do nothing but blink rapidly. This guy is the president? He looks like he’s only a little older than Shang Qinghua!
“I can’t believe you don’t know the face of your own president,” the man says, looking incredibly unimpressed. Like it was Shang Qinghua’s fault— he had better things to do with his life than look at the company profile. “Please tell me you at least know my name.”
This can’t be real. Shang Qinghua did not kick Mobei Jun out of his second workplace and tell him to never come back. The fact that he told his own company president off for being a dick is just a bad dream. Hopefully. Please. He really can’t afford to lose this job too.
“I uh…” Shang Qinghua is finding it incredibly hard to string together any sort of coherent sentence. Should he apologize? “Am I going to be fired?”
“Fired..?” Mobei Jun replies, uncrossing his arms. “No, not that—”
He’s cut off though, by another figure crossing into Shang Qinghua’s line of view. The figure is an extremely old gentleman, who immediately takes one of Shang Qinghua’s hands into both of his own. He’s the same height as Shang Qinghua, so Shang Qinghua can see the glimmer in his eyes as he enthusiastically shakes his hand.
“Ah!” The man says cheerfully, looking at Shang Qinghua with a big grin. “Just as I thought! You look exactly like your grandmother did when she was younger! A little taller but that should be a given, ah, come here! It’s so good to see you!”
That’s how Shang Qinghua gets swept into an exuberant hug. Shang Qinghua has never been swept up like this by a stranger this old before. What was with this old man… Shang Qinghua has never even seen him before! He returns the hug nonetheless, and looks at Mobei Jun over the man’s shoulder.
“Please wait on the side, Chairman…”
Chairman? Chairman?!
Shang Qinghua hugs back with all his might, just in case. His job probably depends on it!
Five minutes later finds Shang Qinghua sitting with his back ram-rod straight on one of the couches in the office. Across from him, the chairman of the company sits on a recliner, cheerful expression on his face while the president sits beside Shang Qinghua. There’s about half a foot between the two of them and Shang Qinghua feels like if he sits any closer, he’ll get booted off.
Not that that’s what he’s focused on at the moment.
“You want to repay my grandmother’s favour?” he asks, still confused. He’s having a bit of a hard time processing the information.
Apparently the chairman of this company, the grandfather of the president, had been taken in by Shang Qinghua’s grandmother’s family in their youth. When he had fallen on hard times as a young man, she had helped him out and had lent him enough money to survive and eventually establish the company.
(He also apparently harboured a flame for her that he never acted upon out of respect for her and her husband. This old man is really rather bold with his explanations and Shang Qinghua feels like he did not need to know that much.)
“Without the kindness of your family, none of this would be here,” the chairman waves his hand in a sweeping gesture around the room. “And now, her grandson is in dire straits. If only I realized it sooner, I could have helped you out faster.”
Shang Qinghua gives a sideways glance to Mobei Jun, who’s staring ahead with a set jaw. He probably knew about Shang Qinghua’s situation beforehand. It still doesn’t explain why he had acted so strangely. Maybe he’s just not properly socialized. But still...
“I have a proposal,” the chairman says, folding his hands over his walking cane. “Let me pay off your father’s debts. It can help repay the innumerable debt I owe to your grandmother.”
“Woah, what?” The words slip out of Shang Qinghua’s mouth before he can help it, and he feels rather light-headed. The old man wants to what now?
“But I do have a condition,” the chairman leans forward, with a rather fox-like grin. “I would like you to marry my grandson.”
Shang Qinghua’s brain comes to a screeching halt, his face practically cracking in half. He wants to shake his head and see if maybe something will dislodge from his brain, allowing him to stop hallucinating whatever the hell is going on here.
“Marr—”
“Please do not worry, chairman. No, grandfather.” Suddenly, there’s an arm around Shang Qinghua’s shoulders, yanking him close to Mobei Jun’s side. “Shang Qinghua and I will build a very wonderful family and future together. So wonderful that it’ll make me an even more proficient man than before, and you wouldn’t even need to worry about the commercial affairs of our company anymore. So wonderful that you can leave the future of this corporation in my hands and not even worry.”
What… did any of this have to do with… running a company. Shang Qinghua is going to have to ask Shen Yuan to translate this whole conversation. Rich people are so strange.
And also, a marriage? A legally binding marriage?
Shang Qinghua looks up at the man, eye twitching maniacally, and sees that Mobei Jun has a weirdly large smile that looks equally crazed.
“Yes yes,” the old man across from them says, and his smile looks downright ecstatic. His eyes glean in the light and he pulls out a kerchief, dabbing it to his eyes the same way Shang Qinghua’s dad does while watching his soaps. “And our families will be joined. Ah, Shang Qinghua I am so happy to welcome you!”
Shang Qinghua is at a loss for words. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, whatever fragment is left of his sanity lights a single candle for himself.
Somehow Shang Qinghua manages to keep his composure till the old man leaves, escorted out by a secretary. But as soon as the door closes, he turns on Mobei Jun, face wide-eyed and grimacing.
“Marriage?” His voice breaks over the word like it’s a curse. Mobei Jun looks at him impassively from where he’s moved to behind his desk, twirling a pen aimlessly. “Really? Doesn’t it feel a bit irrational?”
“Are you planning to pay off an eight-figure debt with this job and a host job?” Mobei Jun asks, and Shang Qinghua almost wants to throttle him and ask him to pay his employees more. Though, if his wallet didn’t have a direct funnel to his dad’s bank account, Shang Qinghua might actually have been a little comfortable.
Also what second job? Mobei Jun’s the reason he’s got only one left!
“That’s not what I meant!” Shang Qinghua huffs, his head still spinning.
Marriage feels like a big task that he still needs maybe five to twenty years to prepare for. He still gets his main nutrients from cup noodles and vitamin supplements. He still mixes his coffee with his energy drinks. He still doesn’t separate his laundry based on colour and the only dress shoes he has are the too-small ones from highschool.
As far as being a married man goes, Shang Qinghua is nowhere near ready.
“What?” Mobei Jun raises a single eyebrow. “Were you looking to marry for love?”
“Wh— no!” Shang Qinghua stutters, and then narrows his eyes. “Wait, yes, of course what the hell! Who doesn’t marry for love? Or at least marry someone they know? Even people in arranged marriages at least see a picture beforehand!”
“You could fall in love with me,” Mobei Jun points out and it takes every fibre in Shang Qinghua’s being to not mimic those words back to him. “Other people have not found it too hard.”
Good lord. What an idiot.
“Don’t you find it kind of weird?” Shang Qinghua tries, and it’s Mobei Jun’s turn to have his face twitch. “You can’t think this is rational, right?”
Something truly dark crosses across Mobei Jun’s face for a moment, and Shang Qinghua almost makes a sound in fear. He remembers all of a sudden that he’s in the office of the president of the company where he works at and throws his hands up in apology. God, he really needs to start looking at the company profile online.
“I do not, no,” Mobei Jun says, and his voice has dropped half an octave. Shang Qinghua feels the hair prickle on the back of his neck at the cold tone of the man’s voice. “I too think that it’s irrational that the position that I have within this company, the position I have worked hard for over my entire life, has the same value as marrying an ordinary, stingy man that according to his last performance review, has a habit of falling asleep on the job.”
Shang Qinghua stares. Was this man threatened by the chairman? Also, what was with all those insults? That review had just caught him on a bad week!
“I know you think I have nothing to protect,” Mobei Jun goes on as Shang Qinghua continues to do a goldfish impersonation. “But there are things that I cannot just hand over to anyone else. And after meeting you last night, I figured you would understand the conviction needed. So,”
Mobei Jun pushes back from his desk and stands up, rounding the dark mahogany. A million warning bells ping in Shang Qinghua’s brain as the other man approaches him. Even from two feet away, Mobei Jun casts a large and imposing shadow.
“I cannot force you into this marriage. If you think you can tolerate a lifetime of working multiple jobs to pay off your father’s debts instead of having me and my grandfather do it for you in an instant, then there is nothing I can do.”
Mobei Jun looks at Shang Qinghua sharply. Shang Qinghua almost expects a film crew to burst from any given corner of the room and tell him he’s been pranked. Alternatively, he thinks he’ll wake up in a puddle of drool on his keyboard back home, and that this has all just been a very elaborate dream.
However, there is a kind of pragmatic side to Shang Qinghua.
Can he pay off his dad’s debts within this lifetime? Absolutely fucking not.
He hasn’t wanted to admit to himself, but the way he has had to slog over the past couple of years has made the barest dent in the financial burden his father had taken on. So many sleepless nights and tired mornings, all for something overwhelmingly large that isn’t even his. And it’s a little selfish but while Shang Qinghua cares for his father, he’s sort of curious to know how it would feel to not have that sort of burden on him.
Instead, he would be trading it for a shackle to the man in front of him. But who knows what that would entail? If it’s a marriage of convenience, Shang Qinghua thinks this man may just leave him alone to continue his life as normal. He’d probably serve divorce papers the day after his grandfather conks off and forget about Shang Qinghua’s existence a week after.
And Shang Qinghua could continue to live his life, without having to work upwards of eighteen hours a day. He could even keep some of his money, use his free time to write more garbage stallion novels that all his friends pretend to not like.
“Anyways—” Mobei Jun starts, but Shang Qinghua cuts him off.
“I’ll do it,” he says, trying to stand up straight. Mobei Jun looks surprised for a moment, and Shang Qinghua clears his throat. “I’ll marry you.”
“Huh,” Mobei Jun says, and his expression… doesn’t quite even out into a smile, but it does soften by a fraction, like he’s pleased. “Alright then. You’ve made the sensible choice.”
“I…” Shang Qinghua is still certain this is an elaborate hoax, but Mobei Jun has the countenance of a man that has never made a joke in his life. “I hope we get along.”
It’s lame and Mobei Jun looks at him like it’s lame, but Shang Qinghua pushes past it. Even if this man is kind of a dick, at least it’ll be a mutually beneficial relationship.
It leaves him feeling kind of weird, but Shang Qinghua decides to ignore it. He’ll be fine, he tells himself, chanting it like a mantra on the subway ride home.
On a bright Thursday afternoon, Shang Qinghua stares at the large, imposing black doors in front of him and gulps. For all intents and purposes, this should make sense. It should make sense that in order to make this a marriage that will work in the old chairman’s eyes, they would need to take this step.
Plus it’s not like Shang Qinghua isn’t used to constantly switching roommates. His longest one has been Shen Yuan, who’s roomed with him for two years and has let him skip out on his half of the rent on the harder months, even if he boxed Shang Qinghua around the ears about it.
Shen Yuan had taken the news with a shrug, partly because Shang Qinghua hadn’t told him that he had…
Well.
Gotten married.
(“I’m working a special project and the company wants me closer to them,” Shang Qinghua had said and Shen Yuan had raised a thin brow.
“Are they paying you a relocation fee?” he asked, and Shang Qinghua shrugged.
“Sort of?” he says. “I can keep paying my half of the rent if you need it.”
Shen Yuan had given him a funny look at that and laughed, calling him an asshole before putting his headphones back in. Shang Qinghua’s not quite sure where that leaves him, but he’s kept some money aside anyways.)
“I really thought this was going to be just a paperwork thing,” Shang Qinghua says for the fiftieth time that afternoon, gripping the handle of his suitcase tighter. It’s been two days since he decided that he’d legally attach himself to the president of the company he works at and yet it’s still not real in his head.
They’ve taken the morning off to get married; well, Mobei Jun has taken the morning off. Shang Qinghua has taken off the entire day because since they signed their names at the bottom of the marriage document, he’s felt like he’s been getting the vapors.
Mobei Jun seems to not really care about the whole affair, but from what Shang Qinghua can see, Mobei Jun is not one to carry any sort of facial expression that’s not disdain and boredom.
With the exception of that freakish smile he had shown his grandfather. The terror and serial-killer-esque quality of that smile is not something Shang Qinghua thinks he can ever forget. Honestly, it’s probably for the better that Mobei Jun perpetually looks like he has never felt joy in his life.
Shang Qinghua only has one suitcase with his clothes and his satchel for work. Mobei Jun had told him he’ll send someone to go over and collect the rest of his belongings for him, and Shang Qinghua had to sheepishly explain this was all that he had. Mobei Jun had looked at him with a little pity, but Shang Qinghua stuck his chin up anyways.
This is all feeling rather real.
It’s also kind of feeling like all the times Shang Qinghua had been forced to go to sleep overs at a family friend’s house when he was a kid and his parents were working out the details of their divorce.
“I’m not going to eat you,” Mobei Jun sighs out of his nose and starts to push past him. “Come in.”
Shang Qinghua clutches the cold coffee he’d gotten outside of the public office, and feels the tension tight in his spine. But there’s no real other option for him, so he starts to roll his suitcase in.
As expected, the apartment is incredibly large. The interior is dark with sleek minimalist furniture that looks like it came out of the same catalogue spread. There’s an air of sterility to the open-concept apartment and there’s a stark drop in temperature from the hallway into Mobei Jun’s home.
It doesn’t look lived in. There’s a throw on the sofa and a book opened face down as the only indicator that this apartment isn’t used for staging. The size of the living room alone is as big as all of Shang Qinghua’s old apartment and there’s a set of stairs leading up to a second floor. A second floor, in an apartment.
At least the view is pretty. The noon sun is still bright over the city, and the light pouring in makes everything look rich and lux in the apartment instead of dour. It looks kind of like a hotel and as far as living situations go… this could potentially be the best apartment Shang Qinghua’s ever found himself in.
“Your room is over there,” Mobei Jun stands in front of Shang Qinghua, tilting his head in a barely discernible direction. At least, that’s what Shang Qinghua thinks he does because Mobei Jun doesn’t give any other indicator for where to go
“Cool,” Shang Qinghua says and obediently starts pulling his luggage in the direction he thinks Mobei Jun’s told him to go.
“Where are you going? I said it’s over there.”
Shang Qinghua automatically changes his track, and has to do it twice more in the stupidly large apartment until he comes up to a closed door. Mobei Jun grunts from where he’s already marching back to the front door.
“I’m going back to work,” Mobei Jun says, and Shang Qinghua gives him a half-wave. He ignores it. “There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry. I’ll be eating dinner with some clients so you don’t have to make dinner for me.”
Making dinner for who? Shang Qinghua, who microwaves his cup noodles, making dinner for who? Before Shang Qinghua can ask, Mobei Jun has already disappeared through the front doors of his apartment.
And just like that, Shang Qinghua is standing in a penthouse apartment, newly married and completely alone.
Huh.
Well at least he can strike one thing — wait, penthouse — two things off his “list of things people thought he’d never get” off his list. Hah.
His stomach rumbles softly, but it’s more out of nervousness and trepidation than hunger. He needs to settle into his room but the gravity of it all is starting to set in. While he’s not one of those trembling brides he likes to write about when he’s short on grocery money, Shang Qinghua is feeling strongly empathetic to the whole “what the fuck just happened to me?” aspect of it. And, he supposes, the “at least he’s hot” portion of it as well. It could be worse. So, so much worse.
Gathering himself, Shang Qinghua gently nudges open the door of his new room in his new home.
And almost drops the coffee he’s been nursing for the better part of the morning.
…
...
...Was this an act of cruelty?
This was his new room?!?
Shang Qinghua’s new room looks like it was a spare study that had been converted into a trash bin and then fell victim to a minor natural disaster. Papers lay strewn everywhere, piled under clothes and discarded wrappers and empty food cartons. There’s a dusty glass tank sitting on a desk which is filled with more garbage and the air is stale, like somebody left a box of pizza out overnight.
Shang Qinghua thinks he’s going to retch.
The bed at least looks clear, but Shang Qinghua doubts the freshness of the sheets. This whole room is an assault to his senses, and he has no doubt in his brain that his new husband absolutely hates him.
Not that Shang Qinghua is a clean person by any means. He actually does veer into the messier side more often than not though, as he’s too incredibly lazy to clean up. Both he and Shen Yuan actually. Their apartment has often made both their parents weep.
However, it’s a much different story when it’s someone else’s room and mess and filth. Shang Qinghua doesn’t want to know what this room was before; it looks like an amplified version of his dorm room in his first year of university.
This has to be some form of punishment.
And it’s admittedly lowering Mobei Jun’s coolness factor. Just a little bit. What kind of grown man with money is this messy? Shang Qinghua knows it’s a pot calling a kettle black but if he had money, he’d be hiring someone to clean all this garbage out.
Shang Qinghua has half a mind to call Mobei Jun and chew his head off. However, Shang Qinghua has neither the courage to do so, nor Mobei Jun’s number.
So.
He stares balefully at the small mountain of crumpled convenience store bags in the corner of the room. Well, if the room is being treated like a mini-landfill, it should be no problem if he just throws everything out and does a thorough scrubdown, right?
Mentally steeling himself, Shang Qinghua gets to work.
It takes an entire day of steady work, a box of garbage bags and three strategically placed wall air fresheners, but Shang Qinghua works diligently and finally gets his room in a livable condition. It serves as a distraction from...well, everything else that’s going on in his life. He takes a break in between to make one of the cups of instant ramen he finds in the back shelf of the unnecessarily large kitchen and instead of leaving it on the counter like he normally does, Shang Qinghua actually throws it away.
Cleaning up that room has changed him as a man.
He sends Shen Yuan a picture after he’s done, pretending that the room was like that when he came in and not something he had to toil over. It’s a large and decently decorated room, and Shang Qinghua finds the washing machine for the sheets. He moves a mountain of garbage bags to the garbage disposal chute in the lobby without locking himself out, and leaves the rest beside his room so that Mobei Jun can figure out what he wants to keep.
The man in question comes back to the apartment late in the evening, as Shang Qinghua is fiddling with the remote control and trying to figure out how the television works. Shang Qinghua finds himself taking the rest of the garbage bags out to the chute, Mobei Jun not even bothering to look twice as he tells Shang Qinghua to just throw the stuff out.
He tries to show Mobei Jun how he’s cleaned up the room, and Mobei Jun makes a non-committal sound as Shang Qinghua opens the door with a flourish.
“Huh,” Mobei Jun says as he looks over Shang Qinghua’s shoulder. “I forgot this room could look like this.”
“What, habitable?” Shang Qinghua asks, and Mobei Jun snorts. “Were you really okay living like this?”
“Is this any different from how you live?” Mobei Jun raises a thick eyebrow and Shang Qinghua makes an indignant sound.
“Hey, if I had the money to pay someone to clean my place I would!” He says, levelling Mobei Jun with a glare. He catches Mobei Jun’s gaze and immediately rethinks that decision. “It’s hard to keep clean when you’re working three— two jobs.”
(No one except for his select group of friends needs to know about his web novels. No one.)
“Technically I didn’t pay anyone to clean either,” Mobei Jun points out, and Shang Qinghua’s about to reply with something stupid like technically Mobei Jun did just clear his dad’s debts, but he’s mercifully cut off by Mobei Jun sniffing around him. “Your bathroom is across the apartment.”
Shang Qinghua knows this, but he can also recognize a dismissal when he hears one. Before he can say anything, Mobei Jun’s already disappeared. He sighs and grabs a fresh(ish) pair of pyjamas, slinging them over his shoulder.
The washroom is as dark and sleek as the rest of the apartment, the walls a deep slate grey. It takes Shang Qinghua a good five minutes to figure out how to work the shower and get it to a temperature that’s not scalding hot or exceedingly cold. The water feels divine when he steps in, and Shang Qinghua can feel the tension from the day start to seep out of his shoulders.
It’s still kind of unbelievable. The day, the proposition, the fact that Shang Qinghua’s father had called him in the middle of the day overjoyed because his incredibly large debt was suddenly forgiven by the bank. Mobei Jun’s family moves incredibly fast though Shang Qinghua guesses to rich people, the amount in his father’s debt was just a drop in the pond.
God, and Shang Qinghua somehow wheedled a legal union out of it. Or got wheedled into one.
His brain is still spinning, and he hasn’t been able to focus it long enough to comprehend just what turn his life took. Last night, instead of thinking about feelings, he barfed out ten thousand words of a new hare-brained story before passing out in front of his laptop.
Even the smell of his soap feels foreign in this apartment as Shang Qinghua scrubs the grime of the day off.
He’s married. That tends to be something that’s a long-term commitment. So now what?
Shang Qinghua turns the temperature down in the shower a little further, as he tries to think about what that will entail. He isn’t sure how he’s going to go about his husbandly duties. Shang Qinghua doesn’t even know what husbandly duties entail. Is he supposed make them food? Keep things clean? Fix the plumbing if it goes?
Have a conversation with Mobei Jun? Mobei Jun has barely looked at him with something that’s not disdain, so Shang Qinghua thinks he’s safe in at least one department.
Even if it is the one department that Shang Qinghua thinks could maybe work out. Even if he’s not experienced, he’s seen a lot of videos and that’s probably similar to how it goes in real life, yeah? Shang Qinghua doesn’t think he can embarrass himself too much that way. Shang Qinghua wouldn’t be too opposed. After all, Mobei Jun is a rather attractive man…
…That looks at Shang Qinghua like he’s something smeared on the bottom of his shoe. Look at Shang Qinghua, worrying like he has a choice. He’s not ugly, but the type of people who like how Shang Qinghua looks and the type of people who look like his freshly minted husband tend not to be overlapping categories.
Shang Qinghua can feel himself start to realize that he’s been forced to bat way out of his league. Well, is he even in the game? This isn’t a love marriage, this is barely an arranged marriage. There’s a better chance that Mobei Jun is going to carry on like normal with whoever he was carrying on with, and they’re just going to be two roommates who are legally tied together.
This detached sort of relationship is such an echo of Shang Qinghua’s entire life, he realizes.
A detached mother, a detached father who only rekindled their relationship when his debt got too large, grandparents who forget he exists and only one true, albeit sarcastic, friend across the twenty-five years he’s been alive. It would make sense that Shang Qinghua would end up in a cold and detached marriage.
These thoughts are way too deep and complex for his exhausted brain, so Shang Qinghua shakes his head and slicks back his wet hair. Whatever. Feelings suck, but at least they make great source material for angsty characters. Shang Qinghua really would rather write his emotions than deal with them; it’s worked out excellently for him in the past.
What has worked out a little less excellently is his tendency to be a bit scatter-brained when it comes to the smaller tasks. He realizes this as he steps out of the shower, and sees an empty rod where a towel should be.
Shang Qinghua winces and wonders if he should stick his head out and ask Mobei Jun if he has a spare towel. He doesn’t want to get his fresh clothes wet so Shang Qinghua walks gingerly towards the door and sticks his head out.
The television is blaring loudly on some loud action show, and Shang Qinghua tries to call out a, “Hey!”. Predictably, it goes ignored. He raises his voice, but there’s an explosion as soon as he calls out Mobei Jun’s name.
Shang Qinghua squirms uncomfortably. It’s getting rather cold, and he tries to call out to Mobei Jun one more time before he gives up. He had loafted on doing laundry, and Shang Qinghua doesn’t really want to get his one clean(ish) pair of sleeping clothes wet.
There’s only one other option. If Shang Qinghua is sneaky enough, he can drag a spare sock across the floor of the apartment to sop up whatever wet trail he leaves. Maybe if he concentrates hard enough, he can even will the water not to drip down his body and get all over the floor.
Naked run it is. The television show is loud enough for Mobei Jun to not hear Shang Qinghua call out to him, so it should be loud enough for him to not hear Shang Qinghua sprinting across the apartment.
Solid plan in place, Shang Qinghua opens the door of the washroom to take a quick glance. Mobei Jun is still more concentrated on the television than anything else, so he takes a deep breath in. And dashes.
It’s a great plan, really. Shang Qinghua makes it across the apartment without arousing any suspicion and breathes a sigh of relief as he reaches for the doorknob.
Which rattles, but doesn’t turn.
“Huh?” Shang Qinghua fidgets with the doorknob, but it doesn’t give. What the hell? Since when did that door lock? Shang Qinghua doesn’t remember locking the door from the inside! Shang Qinghua didn’t even think this door had a lock! Unless it was one of those stupid handles you pushed to lock.
Wait. Yes it was. Shang Qinghua had fiddled with it for a few moments earlier that day and promptly forgot, distracted by a message from his dad.
“Fuck me,” Shang Qinghua swears under his breath, trying to will the door open. For a moment, he wonders if he can sneak into the kitchen to grab a paper towel but since it’s directly behind the living room, he knows he’s going to open himself up to a critical level of embarrassment—
“Did you lock yourself out?”
Shang Qinghua lets out a sound that’s akin to a dying whale and whips around to hide his naked ass. Belatedly, he remembers that that’s not the only thing he has to hide.
“Sorry!” He says, covering his crotch with his hands like the sight of it will mortally offend Mobei Jun.
Mobei Jun’s presence is looming. Shang Qinghua presses his back against the door in hopes that he’s heavy enough to fall through. Mobei Jun’s eyes flit down briefly to where Shang Qinghua’s trying to cover himself and raises an eyebrow.
He looks kind of amused. Shang Qinghua realizes that it’s probably not the ideal reaction you want from someone who gets a glimpse of your junk. Shang Qinghua tries very hard not to realize the other emotion that’s trying to poke playfully at his gut. It’s not his fault, ok! It’s the fault of him from five minutes ago for fantasizing about his idiot husband.
Mobei Jun digs into the back of his pocket and pulls out a key after three long, excruciating seconds.
“I had a family friend living here before,” Mobei Jun explains, even though Shang Qinghua is too busy trying to evaporate to ask. “Wanted it to put a lock system on for privacy. Should have given you a key, huh?”
“Very nice,” Shang Qinghua says in a voice too high to be his own. It takes everything for him to not tack on a “However, I am still aggressively naked, so can you please hurry up.”
Instead of shoving him out of the way, Mobei Jun leans over to unlock the door. Shang Qinghua catches a whiff of his cologne, and it’s the same heady scent he had worn to the club.
It smells rather good, and Shang Qinghua wonders briefly if he’d gain some cool points in the office if he managed to steal his cologne and smell like this. It’s kind of distracting and Shang Qinghua doesn’t register he is allowed to move until Mobei Jun’s expression shifts into a more expectant one.
They stare at each other for a few moments. A shiver goes through Shang Qinghua and he wonders if his room’s fancy enough to have it’s own thermostat so that he can turn the air conditioning down.
“The door’s unlocked,” Mobei Jun says. Shang Qinghua blinks. “Unless you intend to stay out here like this on purpose.”
“What do you mean on purpose?” Shang Qinghua demands, but answers his own question a fraction of a second later. Mobei Jun drops his eyes down, only to rake them back up in a once-over. It’s the only time anyone hot has ever given Shang Qinghua a once over, but Shang Qinghua can tell it’s not serious.
Mobei Jun makes a thoughtful sound.
“I mean,” he says, and Shang Qinghua gets the same weird feeling he gets in his gut when he starts to twig onto the fact that he’s being made fun of. “I suppose I would be willing to try. Might as well be worth a shot.”
For a brief moment, Shang Qinghua thinks Mobei Jun is serious. But before his lizard brain takes over and says yes, might as well be worth a shot, please take off your shirt so that we can proceed, he catches the way the other man’s lips twitch. It’s just the slightest movement at the corners of his mouth, but it’s enough to make Shang Qinghua squawk and fling his door open.
As he slams the door in Mobei Jun’s face, he hears a rumbling laughter on the other end because of course, who doesn’t see him as a joke? Shang Qinghua can feel himself going red in the face as the laughter turns into snickering and starts to drift away.
He digs his towel out of his suitcase and throws it out like a blanket on his sheets before he flops down onto his bed to air-dry.
This is so stupid. So, so stupid. He’s stuck in a stupid apartment with a stupid man in a stupid marriage because his stupid dad took a stupid debt and now Shang Qinghua suffers. Mobei Jun looks like he’s one step away from outright making fun of Shang Qinghua at all times, a trait which is fine in a colleague or an acquaintance, but less than preferable in a spouse.
Shang Qinghua’s not new to getting bullied, but he’s an adult that can stand up for himself now. And he knows that means extracting himself from an extremely stupid situation.
But… the money…
Shang Qinghua stares at the ceiling and wonders if he can tolerate this for the money. If he leaves, Mobei Jun will probably take back all the money he used to clear Shang Qinghua’s father's debt. And then Shang Qinghua would truly be fucked, yet again.
… Well then nothing really changes for Shang Qinghua right? He’s been married for less than twelve hours and all he’s done is clean a room. Maybe he can get Mobei Jun to let him keep at least some of the money, as a service fee.
Shang Qinghua props himself up to look around the room. He could just spend their time married chilling in his new, spacious place. There’s a desk in here with a chair that looks like it costs a month’s worth of rent and he’s sure without having to work a second job to make ends meet, he’ll have more time to write. All he has to do is stay married to a cold and prickly guy.
Man, Shang Qinghua is a bit of a thigh hugger but is he really ready to stick it out here?
What a shitty time to get integrity, Shang Qinghua bemoans to himself and flops down on the bed. He knows the smart thing to do is to just dip and pretend none of this ever happened, but Shang Qinghua holds high doubts that he’s a smart man to begin with.
“Psst,” a voice comes from Shang Qinghua’s right, breaking him out of his stupor. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at your screen for the past five minutes.”
Shang Qinghua blinks and turns his head slowly towards Ning Yingying. Behind her, Ming Fan also stares at him, raising a bushy eyebrow,
The look on his face must be absolutely wrecked, because they both shudder. Shang Qinghua can see the brief regret flash across their faces.
“Romantic problems,” Shang Qinghua says in a hollow voice, and Ning Yingying grimaces as Ming Fan makes a face and slides his rolling chair back into his cubicle.
“Get rejected again?” Ning Yingying asks kindly, and Shang Qinghua wants to protest and tell her that hey! He was the one doing the rejecting this time! He was the one who left the annulment papers on the kitchen table this morning!
But that would require him to explain to her that sometime in between last month, when he was complaining about being single forever at their favourite bar after work, and today, he got married and is also going to get divorced (to the company president!).
So Shang Qinghua nods, and Ning Yingying gives him sympathetic eyes before turning back to her own work. Shang Qinghua continues to stare listlessly at the spreadsheet in front of him.
The marriage lasted shorter than some of Shang Qinghua’s binge-watching television sessions, and yet Shang Qinghua feels kind of shitty about it. He snuck out of the apartment very early in the morning, leaving the papers on the table with his portion filled in. He did not want to see the look on Mobei Jun’s face, nor did he want to give himself time to second-guess.
He’s kind of regretting it now though. He had spent a majority of his morning aimlessly riding around on the subway and telling himself that because the marriage was so short, it’ll be out of his mind quickly. However, when he finally got off at the platform near his work, an old reminder went off on his phone about sending his father money because it was payday.
Shang Qinghua had groaned; by then, Mobei Jun would have already seen the papers. The man hadn’t tried to contact Shang Qinghua either, which meant he probably shrugged and took the papers to the public office already.
What was the problem with putting up and shutting up! No matter how weird the situation was! At least Shang Qinghua wouldn’t have had to worry about money for a little while!
Now Shang Qinghua is going to have to find another job again. He may even have to leave this one, depending on Mobei Jun’s attitude. While he hasn’t reached out to Shang Qinghua, Shang Qinghua wonders if the other man is pissed at him. Maybe it’ll put a damper on his plans, maybe his grandfather will be a little less eager to pass the mantle on to Mobei Jun.
Or maybe Shang Qinghua will see Mobei Jun in passing, remember the time he was married to a rude yet incredibly hot guy, and will melt through the ground in embarrassment.
God the situation was too fucking weird! Shang Qinghua stews on this a little longer, continuing to do absolutely jack shit at his desk.
He really should quit this job. So many things remind him of Mobei Jun’s stupidly handsome face, and he’s literally known the guy for less than a week. So many things also remind him that he’s back to square one, being broke and overworked.
(And a virgin! Shang Qinghua is going to be married and divorced and yet he’s still a virgin! It’s not that he’s been protecting his virginity or waiting for someone he loves— he’s just perpetually losing at all aspects of life.)
...ok so maybe he is being a little melodramatic. Really, a normal person should forget this within a week. It’ll be a funny story to tell others eventually. In fact, he already texted Shen Yuan on one of his soul-searching subway rides, and Shen Yuan has replied with roast after joke after roast.
There is a chance that Shen Yuan does not believe him.
But Shang Qinghua feels like he has at least some right to feel a type of way. He’s grown up around repeated failed relationships, and has his own pathetic one to add on to the list. Mobei Jun hasn’t even bothered contacting him. And Shang Qinghua knows he would have seen the papers and the note Shang Qinghua left, because he stuck it right underneath his briefcase.
Mobei Jun probably doesn’t care beyond whatever minor inconvenience this brings him. The two of them are strangers, and he probably looked at the papers with a roll of his eyes before scheming up a new way to really take control from the chairman.
Briefly, Shang Qinghua imagines Mobei Jun calling him up to his office and demanding an explanation. Or telling Shang Qinghua it’s a stupid decision and a violation of their agreement. Or signing the papers and telling Shang Qinghua to take them to the public office because he’s a busy man and can’t run stupid errands like this.
Really, anything that would indicate Mobei Jun is even minority affected. Anything that would balance the scales, even just by a little.
But Shang Qinghua’s phone remains silent, and he resigns himself to the idea that Mobei Jun probably doesn’t actually care.
It’s too embarrassing to go back to the apartment he shares with Shen Yuan. Not yet anyways; Shang Qinghua decides he’ll take the bus to his dad’s place instead and spend the weekend there, hopefully clearing his head. He hasn’t told his dad what has happened yet, but he’s sure the man will get a good laugh out of it.
By now, Mobei Jun must have already gone and filed the forms. There is a possibility though that he’ll wait till the Monday to make Shang Qinghua be his errand boy and do it. Shang Qinghua stares at his hands as the subway car gently rattles, and sighs. Well, at least he has one more life experience to draw from for his stories.
Sort of.
It counts if it was only twelve hours of said experience, right?
Shang Qinghua will give himself the weekend before he gets over it. Set with this, Shang Qinghua steps off the bus and walks towards the tiny, ancient home where his father lives.
It’s embarassing anyways, to be stuck on things for a longer time than they lasted. If he doesn’t get over it by the end of the weekend, he’s going to drag Shen Yuan to the shitty bar near their apartment and ply himself with enough drinks so that he will know a greater pain.
Shang Qinghua crosses the threshold into the cramped house.It’s messier compared to the last time he was in here, and when he slides off his shoes he notices there are two sets of bigger shoes set beside his dad’s sandals.
“You’re going to invite people over with your house looking like this?” Shang Qinghua calls out, only half-jokingly. He hears some voices, but gets no reply. Curious, he makes his way down the hall and in to the living room, where he sees his dad sitting on the couch while two burly men in crisp light-grey suits stand around him.
His dad finally notices his presence, and looks up with a wide smile. A too-wide smile.
“This is my son,” he introduces Shang Qinghua to the two men, who turn on Shang Qinghua with identical, creepy grins. “He works in the city, you know! At a very, very prestigious company.”
“Does he now?” Suit #1 says, and Shang Qinghua pretends he doesn’t see the food stain on the man’s collar.
“It’s not that prestigious…” Shang Qinghua waves it off while trying to throw his dad a surreptitious look. His dad catches it, and beams at him again.
“Ah,these fine gentlemen have kindly agreed to loan me some money for my new business venture,” his father says cheerfully. “Isn’t that so nice of them!”
Shang Qinghua can feel his gut literally drop through the floor and into the abyss. Another loan? Another loan? Who was going to pay this loan! And what business? Knowing his father, it was probably some half-baked idea that came to him in the middle of the night while there was a full moon out, or something superstitious like that.
He can’t afford to inherit any debt! At this rate, Shang Qinghua can’t have a family! No one else should be subject to this! No child nor spouse!
(Bleakly, he remembers that he actually almost did have this very problem taken care of. He shoves that voice to the corner to deal with later.)
But really… how was his dad planning to pay off this loan? Shang Qinghua voices as much, and his father gives a nervous chuckle while the two… lenders? Loan sharks? Goons who have watched too many Hollywood mob movies? Look at Shang Qinghua in interest.
“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” the man asks, and Shang Qinghua gawps.
“Eh? What do you mean I’m here?”
“C’mon, where’s your loyalty to your old man!” Suit #2 says, his voice lower and more intimidating. “If he can’t pay it, if this house can’t cover it, we always have you.”
“My salary is really not enough!” Shang Qinghua retorts, but Suit #1 steps forward and pinches his cheek like he’s some little kid on the playground. Shang Qinghua thwacks him away on instinct, which is a mistake because the glint in the man’s eyes turn dangerous.
“There are special type of clubs for guys that look like you,” Suit #1 starts and Shang Qinghua rolls his eyes.
“What, like a host club?” Shang Qinghua says flatly. Internally, he is two steps away from shitting himself. What the hell was his dad getting into! Again! He really can’t catch a fucking break! “I already tried that and I ranked at the bottom. And I got fired. I think that pretty much kills my chances elsewhere. I don’t think I can bring much profit to you that way.”
The hand that pinched his cheek drops to his shoulder and squeezes.
Hard.
“Ow—”
“Well then,” Suit #1 says contemplatively. “If your father cannot pay then we’ll just treat you how we treat everyone else’s sons when they need a lesson.”
“In fact,” Suit #2 starts to advance as well and wow, Shang Qinghua’s chances are really not looking the best here. “We can even give a little bit of a demonstration right now. Just incase your father doesn’t quite understand.”
“I think he understands!” Shang Qinghua squeaks, and both suited men let out identical chuckles that really do not bode the best for him. His father starts rambling, but nobody in the room is paying attention to him. Shang Qinghua wonders if he can duck and make a run for it because he sure as hell won’t be able to fight against these two guys. He prays and prays that his dad didn’t give these guys Shang Qinghua’s home address like he did to the last one.
The men are interrupted in their menacing by a sharp knock that echoes throughout the home. Suit #2 had already started curling his fist in the front of Shang Qinghua’s shirt.
“You expected company?” the man asks, and Shang Qinghua gives them a blank look.
“...Yes?” he lies, and just like that, the goons shrug and let him go.
“No funny business,” Both the suits say in unison, and Shang Qinghua scampers off to the front door. He’s not really planning on leaving his father here of course but he really doesn’t want to get the shit beaten out of him either! He can’t afford to have his nose broken! It’s a pretty decent nose!
Shang Qinghua opens the door, fully prepared to find a food delivery man on the front step and beg said delivery man to change places.
Yet, he gets his (ex)husband instead.
Mobei Jun stands as tall, intimidating, and unimpressed as ever. He stares down at Shang Qinghua like just being here is an inconvenience. Behind him, Shang Qinghua can see a black SUV parked on the street. Who the hell lived in the city and drove such an ostentatious vehicle?
“I went to the public office,” Mobei Jun says, and his voice is incredibly cold. “But apparently you’ve missed filling out a field and your signature on one of the pages.”
“Uh…” Shang Qinghua stares at the manila envelope Mobei Jun holds out. He takes it in hand, and peers in. Sure enough, there are the papers he had tucked underneath Mobei Jun’s briefcase.
“I had my lawyer take it to your apartment, but you were not there. Luo Binghe got this address from your friend. It took me time out of my day to come all the way here,” Mobei Jun continues. “Do not be so careless next time.”
Well, what other opportunity would he get! Shang Qinghua blinks, kind of blindsided. His dad’s still in the back, happily making a deal that’ll screw over both his and Shang Qinghua’s finances. Speaking of—
“Hey! What’s taking so long!” One of the suits calls out to him.
“What the hell do you want me to do!” Shang Qinghua shouts over his shoulder. “Isn’t your business with my father?”
“Oh, you little—” There’s a sound of footsteps that halts almost immediately. Shang Qinghua looks back and sees Suit #2 has stopped and is staring at the doorway with apprehension. Must be the aura that Mobei Jun gives off; all dark and authoritative in his deep grey suit and broad silhouette.
“Don’t take too long,” the suit says, and Shang Qinghua frowns at him before turning back to Mobei Jun.
“Who is that?” Mobei Jun asks, and Shang Qinghua gulps.
“Just…” Some friends, he’s about to say. Some friends looking on to pack on more debt until my dad’s back break, because my father can’t stop taking out money for his stupid ideas! And it’s going to screw me over because there is no way my dad’s paying it off before he dies! And I’m a total fucking idiot for not just bearing with time and that’s why we’re having more problems!
...
Oh. He’s said that out loud.
“I see,” Mobei Jun says. Shang Qinghua hugs the manila envelope to his chest.
“Uh, I can fill this out and take this back to the public office,” he says, not trusting himself to let spill more. “Um, it might take me a couple of days though. I need to sort this out. But I’ll get it done and you can be rid of me. I will also put in my resignation so that you don’t have to see me.”
Mobei Jun stares down at him. Shang Qinghua doesn’t know if he should be saying something further, but whatever he says will come out incredibly pathetic. This would probably be a great opportunity to do some thigh-hugging but there’s panic clouding his brain and he can feel the steam coming out of his ears.
Man, this sucks. Shang Qinghua really needs to find two new sources of income. Or he needs to convince Shen Yuan to allow him to leech off of him as he writes ten thousand words a day and somehow becomes the most prolific Zhongdian writer.
God, he’s probably going to have to be a host at a host club again. What if he has to sell his body? It’s not worth enough money to pay off the stupid debt! Even if he tried to sell his virginity, he’d probably make the equivalent of pocket lint.
That’s also probably not going to stop those two men from hunting down and breaking his legs when his dad inevitably misses a few payments. Maybe Shang Qinghua can run away to the countryside, maybe he can find a small hut in the secluded area of a cow farm or something…
“Hey.” The voice cuts through his mental tangent, and Shang Qinghua goes “Huh?” as he looks at Mobei Jun, who for some reason is still there. Mobei Jun looks a little irritated, like he’s been trying to get Shang Qinghua’s attention.
“Do you want me to help?”
Shang Qinghua blinks. He’s about to ruminate on it, but his brain goes into instant survival mode and he blurts out a “Yes!” without hesitation. “Please, and I’m so sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I promise, I swear. I’m so so sorry, but please.”
Mobei Jun delicately plucks the manila envelope from Shang Qinghua’s hands. The action says all that it needs to. “Leave it to me.”
Relief rushes through Shang Qinghua so fast it nearly gives him whiplash. His higher brain function turns off, his whole being just eager to make it out of this thing.
“Thank you sir!” Shang Qinghua says too brightly, and Mobei Jun narrows his eyes at him.
“You are to call me husband,” Mobei Jun says flatly. “We need to make it believable.”
“Yes sir!” Shang Qinghua chirps back almost instantly, and Mobei Jun rolls his eyes. He doesn’t give Shang Qinghua a second look as he pushes past him and into the house, like Shang Qinghua is some sort of annoyance.
Shang Qinghua is totally fine with it though, as long as it gets him out of trouble.
By the end of the day, Shang Qinghua is completely exhausted. He’s leaning his head against the passenger window of the SUV, watching the scenery flit by as they drive in silence with the news playing quietly on the radio.
He’s thanked Mobei Jun repeatedly, getting a grunt in return at most. Mobei Jun has saved his hide and his dad’s hide. Again.
Turns out Mobei Jun can do more than just look scary; he can act terrifying too, and he barely had to lift a finger to glare at the thugs and send them scampering out of the house with a threat that Shang Qinghua’s not quite sure is legal.
It’s ok. He pretended to not catch most of the conversation because Mobei Jun had kicked him out of the living room. Shang Qinghua had eavesdropped from the kitchen as Mobei Jun detailed in that commanding baritone of his what action exactly he was going to take if they came around to Shang Qinghua’s home again, and a lot of it went beyond simply filing a police report.
He also cut them a cheque for whatever amount Shang Qinghua’s father had already spent from his loan, and told them to get out of his sight. Shang Qinghua feels kind of like a coward for so readily falling at Mobei Jun’s feet but— how the hell else was he supposed to pay off the debt!
Shang Qinghua had done his own private berating afterwards, except it was towards his father and not towards two men twice his size. He told his father to stop taking on unnecessary loans because it was going to land him in trouble one day and Shang Qinghua would not be abe to bail him out.
All his father got out of the whole evening, of course, is that Shang Qinghua is married. He clapped and congratulated and was generally cheerful, though Shang Qinghua knows he’s just playing stupid to skirt around the fact that he keeps taking out more money than he should. He sent them off with a box of sweets and a bottle of wine to celebrate, but it rings hollow after the whole debacle.
Of course, all this means that Shang Qinghua is not getting divorced. Not yet anyways, not till Mobei Jun gets tired of him. Before they had gotten into the car, Mobei Jun had curtly told Shang Qinghua that they would need to move forward as a team if they wanted to make this work. Shang Qinghua wanted him to explain further, but Mobei Jun sounded like he’d rather have his teeth pulled than keep talking.
Shang Qinghua thinks he’s going to have to get used to this strange, minimal word and minimal expression method of Mobei Jun talking. Really, that stone facade seems to only break if he’s laughing at Shang Qinghua or putting on an absolutely horrific show for his grandfather.
He sneaks a peek every now and then towards Mobei Jun’s profile. It’s masculine and handsome, intimidatingly so. Mobei Jun will look back and raise an eyebrow, so Shang Qinghua will make some excuse of wanting to know how much time they have left till they get back.
Shang Qinghua disguises a sigh as a yawn, not wanting to seem too melodramatic.
So. He is still married and Mobei Jun was still willing to pay off his father’s fresh debt as long as Shang Qinghua would stay married to him. Shang Qinghua knows Mobei Jun has a lot riding on this too, that the happiness of his grandfather determines his future in the company. Shang Qinghua is tempted to ask whether it is nepotism or hard work that has gotten Mobei Jun this far, but he’s sure that if he does he’ll be kicked out of the car and made to walk home.
Instead, he just resigns himself to acknowledging that this is going to be his new normal. At least for now. At least he is, once again, not breaking his back over paying back money that he didn’t even borrow to begin with.
This is definitely not how Shang Qinghua anticipated getting married but if some stupid legality will solve one of his life’s biggest problems then he guesses that that alone will make it a happy marriage.