Chapter 22.1: Master

　　In the corner just beyond the camera’s view, a tall figure and a little one looked at each other, neither speaking first.

　　“Uncle, what’s a dentist game?” Jiujiu asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

　　“Well,” Fu Yue explained with a gentle smile, “I’ll be the dentist, and you’re the patient. Then I’ll see if you have any cavities!”

　　Perhaps it was the warmth of his arms or the gentle timbre of his voice—Jiujiu’s heart fluttered as he nodded, his light brown curls brushing against Fu Yue’s wool suit like a little sunbeam.

　　“Uncle, can I be the dentist too?” he asked, his long, curled lashes blinking innocently at the tall and upright Uncle Fu.

　　Would he grow this tall one day, too?

　　Fu Yue’s lips curved in a soft smile as he pinched the round, squishy little cheeks. “But I want to be a dentist. Will you grant my wish, Jiujiu?”

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　　At that moment, Lu Yao stepped in front of him with bowed head, looking both small and forlorn. “I made these just for you, Brother Yue. Please… just take a bite.”

　　Fu Yue’s patience snapped at the sight of his hapless artiste. He tried to walk past, but Lu Yao blocked him again, more urgently this time. “I don’t even know what kind of person you like… but I’m trying, really trying to change. I’ve never cooked before, but if you like guys who can… I’ll learn, I promise.”

　　Jiujiu stayed close to Fu Yue, his wide eyes following Lu Yao’s crazed antics unfold. Quietly, he tugged at Fu Yue’s hand. Fu Yue squeezed the little hand reassuringly, and Jiujiu obediently ducked behind his leg.

　　“Don’t waste your efforts,” Fu Yue warned softly. “If you have the time to try and win me over, you’d be better off resting. You don’t owe me anything, and what you’re doing… is too much for me to bear.”

　　“I really like you, Brother Yue… Wh-why can’t you consider me, or even just look at me!”

　　Lu Yao choked on his words, his voice breaking. In his panic, he lost grip of the towel on the edge of the pot, and his fingers grazed against the scorching handle. Pain made him yelp and let go instinctively.

　　In that instant, the liquid in the small pot flew up…

　　Fu Yue’s reflexes were lightning-fast. He scooped Jiujiu into his arms and spun away just in time.

　　The boiling glutinous rice balls in sweet rice wine splashed onto Fu Yue’s expensive bespoke suit. Clutching Jiujiu tightly, Fu Yue did not notice the cotton swab slipping from his hand and hitting the floor.

　　Lu Yao stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide and jaw slack. “S-sorry! I’ll go get a towel.”

　　Fu Yue barely had time to notice the warmth on his back as he quickly checked on the startled Jiujiu.

　　The little boy looked up silently, not crying or struggling. However, his wide eyes betrayed his fright.

　　“Sweetheart, you didn’t get burned, did you?” Fu Yue frowned, gently turning him in his arms. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

　　The little boy shook his head, still bewildered by Uncle Lu Yao’s outburst. Tears began to well up in his eyes as he whispered, “I’m fine. Uncle Sharky, you hurt?”

　　Fu Yue heaved a sigh of relief, then took in the state of himself and the mess strewn across the floor.

　　Crisp and thick, the winter suit jacket provided a sturdy barrier. Fortunately, Fu Yue had dodged just in time, so he could feel that his shirt underneath was dry.

　　He shrugged out of his soaking jacket and patted Jiujiu’s back. “Uncle’s fine.”

　　Good thing I hadn’t changed clothes earlier. Otherwise, I’d have been scalded.

　　Fu Yue glanced at the cotton swab on the floor with a twinge of regret. He had come so close to succeeding, and now all he could do was pick it up and toss it into the trash.

　　Lu Yao came rushing over, towel in hand. Seeing Fu Yue’s brooding expression, he apologized once more. “Brother Yue, I’m really sorry!”

　　Fighting to suppress his frustration towards Lu Yao, Fu Yue bent down and gently stroked Jiujiu’s small head. In a soothing voice, he suggested, “Jiujiu, why don’t you go play in your dad’s room for a while? Uncle has something to take care of.”

　　Obediently, Jiujiu nodded and scampered back to Gu Panqiu’s room.

　　The moment the little boy left, Fu Yue no longer bothered to keep his emotions in check.

　　His eyes darkened as he flung the ruined designer suit jacket to the floor, then lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall to smoke.

　　A curl of smoke slipped from his lips as he turned to the bewildered Lu Yao standing in the hallway. “Let’s go outside. We need to talk.”

　　“But it’s cold,” Lu Yao whispered. “You should put on something warm first. And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop it. I’ll clean your suit, I promise!”

　　Fu Yue flicked the cigarette into the trash. One moment, his face was unreadable; the next, he seized Lu Yao by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “Clothes can be washed. But once a person’s ruined, there’s no fixing that.”

　　Lu Yao stared at him, stunned. He had never seen Fu Yue like this. “Brother Yue, I really—”

　　“Lu Yao,” Fu Yue interrupted, his tone like ice. “You never think before you act. You came chasing after me with a pot of boiling soup… Did it ever cross your mind how dangerous that was? Did you even notice there was a three-year-old standing right there?”

　　Lu Yao stared at Fu Yue in disbelief, unable to process the anger emanating from someone usually so composed.

　　Looking down at him, Fu Yue enunciated each word clearly, “I spent a fortune to make you a star, not to have you clinging to me like some lovesick fool, or letting your fans see how pathetic you’ve become. Lu Yao, do you really think I wouldn’t dare fire you?”

　　Since the commotion had broken out right outside his door, the noise between the two men drew Gu Panqiu out just as he had stepped out of the shower.

　　Still in his bathrobe, Qiuqiu blinked at the corridor, where two figures loomed in the dim light.

　　Fu Yue had a tight grip on Lu Yao’s collar, reprimanding him in a low, dangerous voice. Meanwhile, Lu Yao trembled like a chick caught in the rain, as a heavy, stifling tension hung in the air.

　　On the floor lay an overturned pot, its contents spilled into a steaming mess of unidentifiable sludge.

　　Near Fu Yue’s feet lay a suit jacket tossed carelessly aside, its back stained all over.

　　One glance at the cufflinks was enough for Gu Panqiu to recognize them as the custom-made suit Fu Yue had worn earlier at Solo. He had once owned one made from the same delicate fabric in his past life; one stain, and it was as good as ruined.

　　Gu Panqiu clicked his tongue. What a shame… Fu Yue’s taste is always right up my alley.

　　When Fu Yue caught sight of Gu Panqiu peeking out, he reined himself in and loosened his grip on Lu Yao’s collar. Then, he rasped, “Scram.”

　　It was the harshest thing he had said to Lu Yao in years. Lu Yao ran upstairs in a daze, wiping at the tears still wet on his face.

　　Only after Lu Yao’s footsteps faded did Gu Panqiu emerge from his room.

　　Fu Yue cast him a glance. “Feeling sorry for Lu Yao?”

　　“If anything, I should be feeling sorry for myself.”

　　Without asking what had happened, Gu Panqiu pointed to the sweet puddle on the floor. “We should clean this up before it starts sticking to the floor. Otherwise, it’ll be harder to deal with later. I’ll go grab a mop.”

　　Fu Yue watched Gu Panqiu’s gentle side profile, and for some reason, his mood lifted.

　　Rolling up his shirt sleeves, he responded, “You rest. I’ll take care of it.”

　　“I heard from Jiujiu that a pot fell just now, and couldn’t help but wonder what had happened.” Gu Panqiu’s eyes curved into a gentle smile as he looked at Fu Yue. “He told me you shielded him and got your clothes dirty. Thank you for that.”

　　Though still young, Jiujiu had already shown impressive logical thinking and could recount everything clearly—a really clever little one.