HIM Chapter 24: None of Your Damn Business
The lounge was quiet. After Bo Qin went backstage to prepare, he took most of the staff with him. Xiao Zhu, perhaps following Bo Qin's instructions, stayed behind.
He Xizhou loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt collar. He crossed his hands over his abdomen and leaned back in the chair with his legs crossed, watching the monitor on the wall.
Bo Qin hadn’t gone on stage yet. He Xizhou had zero interest in the smoky-eyed idol currently performing onstage and asked Xiao Zhu, “Can I go to the inner area?”
Xiao Zhu was momentarily stunned. “I’ll arrange it for you.”
Bo Qin fastened his earpiece, and the stage lights cast a faint glow on his face, showing a composed stillness. He turned his head and looked toward the audience. In the front row, he saw a sea of blue lightboards with his name on them, shimmering like waves.
The stage was outdoors. Bo Qin wore only a white Tang-style outfit, embroidered with delicate golden cloud patterns on the collar and cuffs. For the performance, he had to be barefoot and currently only had on a pair of fleece slippers. His ankles were flushed red from the cold, and the wind nearly pierced through him.
Even Xiao Xu, wrapped in a coat, was shivering, while Bo Qin sat upright and looked calm. If it weren’t for the icy coldness of Bo Qin’s hands when handing him the sanxian (a traditional instrument), Xiao Xu would have doubted whether Bo Qin even felt cold.
The host began to announce the next act. Bo Qin removed his slippers and was led backstage. When his name was called, he closed his eyes, rising slowly to center stage on the platform.
The lights went out. A single spotlight illuminated Bo Qin as he rose with the soft, low strumming of the sanxian.
The camera focused on Bo Qin’s face as he lowered his eyes and sang:
“All the blossoming colors of spring,
Given over to ruins and decay,
Beautiful moments—so helpless before time.”
His singing was slow and gentle, the melody long and wistful. The crowd was silent for a beat, then erupted into thunderous applause.
As the last note of the sanxian echoed, the stage lights softened and brightened. Silence fell. A droplet of water sounded. Behind him, the screen began to unfurl a traditional ink painting; a drop of ink rippled across the screen like water.
A deep drumbeat began to rise. Bo Qin carefully set down the sanxian, removed his earpiece, took the mic, and began singing gently as the drums joined in. Then, setting the mic down, he leapt barefoot onto a large drum, dancing on its surface in rhythm.
The audience cheered wildly, but Bo Qin seemed to hear none of it. He was completely immersed in the stage he had envisioned and designed himself. Despite the cameras and eyes on him, in that moment, he belonged only to himself.
Each drumbeat grew heavier. With the final beat, Bo Qin flipped off the drum in a backflip. The music suddenly shifted. The poetic stage design transformed. Backup dancers entered in formation. Bo Qin took a black denim jacket from a dancer, adjusted his mic, smiled, ran a few steps, and flipped again, launching into a high-energy singing and dancing routine.
Blue lightboards glowed. Fans screamed his name. He Xizhou watched Bo Qin dash across the stage, and even though the wind was freezing, he felt a fire spread through his chest. In that moment, he realized: some people were simply born to belong on stage.
The second song had a fast rhythm. Bo Qin seemed joyful—maybe due to the fans’ cheers. He Xizhou felt like he was more relaxed than ever, his smile toward the camera unusually sweet.
Xu Zhi said something in He Xizhou’s ear. He glanced at the stage. “Kou family’s youngest son?”
Xu Zhi nodded.
After Bo Qin finished his performance and bowed to the audience, He Xizhou turned and said, “Let’s go.”
He sent Bo Qin a message saying he might be late. Bo Qin didn’t respond—probably busy. When He Xizhou returned to the lounge, Bo Qin was still in his thin Tang outfit, barefoot, sitting on the makeup table, chatting animatedly with another man.
A woman in a chic Chanel-style suit told Bo Qin to change and put on shoes. Bo Qin waved her off, “Not cold. I’m fine. You guys go handle other stuff.”
Xiao Zhu had just returned Bo Qin’s earpiece to the staff. Seeing He Xizhou, she whispered, “His feet were freezing red, but now that he’s chatting happily, he’s ignoring it.”
He Xizhou looked at Bo Qin. The man he was talking to took a call. Bo Qin looked down at his phone. The stylist, Chen-jie, said helplessly, “You’ll catch a cold. Look how red your feet are.”
“I’m really fine,” Bo Qin said, scrolling his phone. “I just don’t want to wear shoes. Go do your stuff. I know my body.”
Chen-jie reached to flick his forehead but paused as He Xizhou approached. He greeted her politely. She was surprised but responded gracefully, “Hello, Mr. He.”
He Xizhou looked at Bo Qin’s feet and asked, “Why aren’t you wearing shoes?”
Bo Qin, irritated by being asked again, snapped, “I just don’t want to. Is it such a big deal—”
He didn’t finish. He Xizhou bent down, slipped his arm behind Bo Qin’s knees, and picked him up. In a few steps, he carried him to the sofa, setting him down and pinning him in with one arm on the armrest, leaning in.
“Wear shoes. Or you’ll catch a cold.”
The room fell silent.
Tony and the secretary Hu Ling pinched each other and whispered, “I’m in love. Is this the CEO dominance trope?!”
Bo Qin finally reacted. His face flushed from his neck to his ears. He slapped He Xizhou’s shoulder, “Can’t you let me save some face?”
He turned and saw Li Qingyang had finished his call. Li gave him a teasing look. “My bad, forgot someone out there actually cares.”
Bo Qin sighed and covered his face. What a mess.
He Xizhou smiled slightly and looked at Xiao Zhu, who immediately came over with socks. He Xizhou held Bo Qin’s ankle. “Do you have wet wipes? Let’s clean your feet first.”
His hand was warm and large. Bo Qin shivered from the contrast against his cold foot and kicked him.
He Xizhou glanced at him and let go. “Sorry.”
He now had a sense of how much physical contact Bo Qin could tolerate.
Bo Qin was even more annoyed after the kick. He opened his mouth to say something, then gave up. Everyone around him looked at him like he was a sulking kid. He met He Xizhou’s gentle gaze and muttered, “I didn’t mean to kick you.”
Then he got more frustrated. “Give me the wipes, I’ll do it.”
Xiao Zhu squatted down to help, but Bo Qin clicked his tongue and snatched the wipes. “Go do your job. It’s just shoes. Not a big deal.”
Xiao Zhu smiled and left to handle the next tasks.
He Xizhou saw Bo Qin’s ears were still red. He said nothing more and silently helped him into fuzzy socks. Then he said, “The organizers want to talk. I need to go for a bit.”
Without waiting for a reply, he took off his suit jacket and draped it over Bo Qin’s shoulders. “Your performance was excellent.” He crouched down and looked into Bo Qin’s eyes with a smile. “But if you got sick, it wouldn’t have gone this well.”
He stood and added, “They’re just worried about you. Maybe the way they show it is wrong—including me.”
Looking down at Bo Qin, he resisted the urge to ruffle his hair and simply smiled. “I’ll come pick you up later.”
After the event, the venue quieted. Occasionally, walkie-talkie chatter broke the silence. Bo Qin stood in the hallway outside his dressing room, holding the bouquet He Xizhou gave him.
He wore a white hoodie and jeans. On his feet—fluffy socks and slippers. He was too lazy to carry the oversized suit jacket from He Xizhou, so he just draped it on.
Tony had gone off to see his boyfriend. Bo Qin, feeling sorry for him, gave him the rest of the night off. His makeup was still on.
He walked past the fan flower baskets, laughing at their quirky messages. Just as he reached the last one, he heard footsteps.
He looked up and smiled, “Finished the meeting? Let’s go.”
But it wasn’t He Xizhou.
Bo Qin’s face instantly darkened. He looked at the newcomer and said, “What do you want?”
His tone was cold, distant, and laced with open impatience.
Xiao Chen held a bouquet of blue roses. Hearing Bo Qin’s tone, his eyes dimmed. In a hoarse voice, he said, “Your performance today was amazing. Congratulations.”
Objectively, Xiao Chen was good-looking—handsome and proper—though marred by a long scar above his brow. Holding roses, looking downcast, he could easily draw sympathy.
But Bo Qin couldn’t stand his fake lover persona. He raised the bouquet in his arms and replied, “Thanks. Don’t need it.”
Xiao Chen’s gaze locked on Bo Qin’s face. This was his first time in four years seeing him outside a screen. Cameras never did Bo Qin justice. His cool and sharp presence was always dulled.
In those four years, Bo Qin had matured and lost all his baby fat, revealing sharp and handsome features. The softness and innocence he once had were perfectly hidden now. He seemed composed and graceful with everyone.
Everyone—including Xiao Chen.
That thought irritated him. He took a deep breath and reminded himself he was here to make peace. Bo Qin responded better to gentleness. Just as he was about to speak, he noticed the men’s suit jacket on Bo Qin’s shoulders. Clearly, it belonged to another man.
Xiao Chen’s most sensitive nerve was struck. His voice rose suddenly. “Bo Qin, whose jacket is that?”
Bo Qin glanced at him. “None of your damn business.”
“Are you dating someone?” The question slipped out, and Xiao Chen lost all composure. He stepped forward to grab Bo Qin’s hand. “With who?!”
Bo Qin kicked him. Hard. The slippers dulled the impact, but Xiao Chen wasn’t expecting it and took the hit in the gut. The roses dropped. He doubled over, groaning.
Bo Qin’s right slipper flew off from the force. He thought, That wasn’t a great kick, but his face stayed calm. Limping back a step, he stared expressionlessly. “How many times do I have to say it? Stay away from me. I’m homophobic.”
Comments
Post a Comment