Chapter Text
"Thus we may know that there are five essentials for victory: (1) He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight. (2) He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces. (3) He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks.
- Sun Tzu, 'Art of War'
The weeks passed like a blur of the wind in the window sill, and Binghe couldn’t help but think how clingy his employer was. Usually, He Yu’s schedule comprised of attending shareholder meetings, fan events, book signing events, and the likes – so the only days He Yu was available were only in the morning, but even there he had to spend it on screenwriting. But, lately, He Yu had been clinging to Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe would walk to He Yu’s house, but instead he would be picked up by the boy’s Rolls Royce everyday at the same time. In the morning, he’d cook breakfast for the frisky young master (since He Yu was an awful cook without online recipes), but he’d arrive with a thoroughly prepared breakfast instead. This was all for He Yu to make Binghe spend time with him, after much cajoling, that is–doing odd things like play games, run around, and stalk people (He Yu hacks into public cameras for fun).
The ever so confident and beautiful lotus became meek to the childish dragon.
This went on for five days, and Luo Binghe couldn’t help doing nothing. If anything, he hates feeling when he’s not needed, when he’s just being kept for the sake of being kept. He felt useless. It was idiotic – Binghe should be happy he was earning a lot by doing things he considered ‘fun’, but it wasn’t. It was ruining his equanimity.
“He Yu.” Binghe called out his name. If this was a corporate setting, he’d be deemed rude, but He Yu didn’t mind people calling him names – as a matter of fact, Binghe pitied him because he’d call He Yu worst things when he was ranting in the bathroom, and the boy would overhear but wouldn’t react to it. He’d just have a smile plastered to his face, then ask him ‘what’s for dinner?’. Binghe had his fair share of being the epitome of conspiracy and evil, but he wouldn’t act impulsively. Being faced in this situation, his intransigent heart began to shiver in guilt.
He Yu was locked to his laptop, headphones on his head, in the middle of composing an epistrophe for an upcoming film for the next film festival. He Yu never treated it this seriously before, that is, before Binghe said he was interested in his movies during one of their late night talks.
“He Yu.” He tapped his shoulder calmly. Binghe could feel a prickle on the side of his neck. He was a man for goodness sake. But, it felt so acquiescent being gentle like this. It was almost disgusting.
Fortunately, He Yu removed the other side of his headphone, eyes still on his Word document. His left ear, facing Binghe, uncovered by the music happening in the laptop.
With a sigh, Binghe crossed his arms. “Why don’t we go somewhere tomorrow?”
“We have a filming for principal photography set tomorrow morning.”
“Then, when will it end?”
He Yu turned to face him, placing his headphones around his neck, and raised a brow. “You’re my bodyguard that holds my schedule along with my secretary, why don’t you know?” He Yu was a talented actor that could imitate anyone, foreign and local alike, so being so, he’s undoubtedly good at faking his emotions. If Binghe was any other person, he would’ve thought He Yu was truly angry with him, but the truth was far from that.
At this position where He Yu was leaning close to Binghe while seated down, and Binghe looming his willowy body towards him–he could see how the director’s eyes were upward. He Yu was playing with him to gauge an emotion.
Maybe he knew by heart that Binghe was certainly not the type to step down just because he angered someone, he might take a step back to make them calmer, but certainly not give up bothering them.
So, Binghe did just that. He flicked He Yu’s forehead, knowing the waters were calm, and said: “You’re free by the evening.”
He Yu placed a hand where Binghe flicked it, “No, I’m not. I have a signing in Shanghai.”
“Then, hire another alibi like what you did in Qianbei.”
“I got busted by my manager, then.”
“...”
Binghe was in the middle of his thoughts when another voice began whispering in his ear: ‘Why do I care so much about this?’ and ‘W-wait, why am I doing this?!’
He Yu must’ve sensed that Binghe was trying hard to pave a way for him and his busy schedule, so he twirled his chair to face him fully and smiled, “We could probably sneak out after two hours. Where are we going in Shanghai? Is there something you’d like to show me?” It almost felt like He Yu was giving Binghe a chance to drive the car.
And Binghe was a natural-born opportunist. Even if he ignored the situation looking much like a tryst in other’s eyes. His eyes lightened quickly, having the path free now, “We could go to Zhujiaojiao Water Town!”
While Binghe’s vermillion eyes were lighting up with gentle stars peaking in a sunset, He Yu’s scarlet gaze turned dark like an overflowing murky water. While Binghe was rambling, he seemed to catch the change in He Yu’s eyes and slowed down for the little dragon. “What is it? It’s okay if you don’t want to go to the Disney land, we’ll be spending my money so your funds won’t–”
He shook his head, “It’s not that, Binghe.” he twirled around his seat again, facing the laptop. “Mhm. Let’s have that.” He pulled his headphones again and began working.
If feeling useless was the second thing that Binghe hated in this world, the first was the worst of all: abandonment. He knew He Yu must’ve ran out of social battery, or he was feeling under the weather, but did he really have to shut himself out like this with Binghe?
Does he ever think of what I would feel whenever he does things? Binghe couldn’t help but to furrow his brows and turned away from the director that suddenly shut his face from him. Turning quietly to the living room, he sat down with a puff.
He would never admit to himself how much he was relying on He Yu when it came to his peace. Unlike the cold director, Binghe could easily gouge his emotions–yes, it took some time, but once he found out what his heart was saying, he won’t deny it. And right now, he couldn’t deny that his heart was sitting on top of the director’s stone cold barriers–reacting to its slightest tremble. So, when He Yu’s genuine reaction comes, one that wasn’t from faking or acting, Binghe couldn’t help but feel sensitive.
Idiot. He murmured under his breath. He seriously didn’t like his mood swings. Did I say something wrong? ‘Zhujiajiao Water Town’ was all I said.
The phone screen lit up again in his hand, the client who was ordering Director He Yu’s downfall was rather energetic lately, much like He Yu. Binghe opened the chat message, scrolling to the messages last month:
[Any updates on Director He Yu’s case?]
[He hired me as his bodyguard. I’ll try to get information around his house, but, may I
ask a question?]
[Go ahead.]
[What kind of information do you need? I watched the video several times but I can’t understand. Do you want me to know about his relationship with the police department? Or why he was begging someone in said department?]
[A person.]
[I apologize. Your answer is quite vague to understand.]
[There is a person he is close with from Huzhou Medical, he was there in the police station when the incident in the video happened. His name is Xie Qingcheng.]
[Okay. You’d like me to find out about Xie Qingcheng?]
[Correct.]
[Find out his relationship with He Yu.]
When Binghe first read that, he felt a mix of anger: Why didn’t you just say that in the first place! If you would, I wouldn’t have needed to be this psycho’s bodyguard! Then, pity: What a crazy fan. What did He Yu ever do to have such an obsessive person ping his love life–wait, no, who is Xie Qingcheng?
In the recent chat that happened yesterday, Luo Binghe had asked that question that he couldn’t pluck from his head.
[I apologize for the time I’m chatting, but I couldn’t help but ask.]
[Why would you like to know who Xie Qingcheng is?]
Then, now, just after Binghe encountered He Yu’s mood swing again, his heart felt numbed reading the next message.
[I heard he was He Yu’s lover.]
[I needed to verify if he truly is.]
His heart, sitting on top of the cold stone of He Yu’s, suddenly felt cold – as if the freezing temperature of the boy typing in his laptop across him had touched the roots in the tender and fragile heart of Binghe. Then, that stone moved, Binghe’s heart rolled over from the top –SHATTER– and crashed right on the floor to where He Yu’s heart should’ve been.
A lover?
Binghe was here for the money. He’s here for the money.
So…why does it feel like he isn’t?
There was an unmistakable anger boiling in his freezing chest as if trying to thaw it. Not for He Yu not telling him – why would he? Instead, to this man called Xie Qingcheng. In that video, the slightly shorter man was standing on the entrance of Huzhou police building, He Yu was calling his name and teary eyed, his voice cracked as he begged. And what did the man do? He slapped He Yu away, and as if that wasn’t enough, he punched him in the gut.
That’s how the video ended. The disdain of the other man was so strong that even from a stander’s point of view, his voice wasn’t lost in the recording–Binghe felt sick to his stomach.
He couldn’t keep this up.
The sun dipped low, casting long, amber shadows over the stone bridges and winding canals of Zhujiajiao Water Town. On any other day, the ancient town would have felt like a living canvas of history—rowboats gently slicing through the emerald waters, the scent of fresh zongzi and roasted pork belly wafting from riverside stalls, and red lanterns beginning to blink awake under the eaves of traditional Jiangnan residences.
For the public, it was a picturesque escape. But, for Luo Binghe and He Yu, it was a carefully orchestrated heist against the director's own schedule.
They had successfully ditched the manager after the signing event, slipping out through a kitchen exit and into a nondescript sedan Binghe had arranged. On the surface, it was undeniably fun. Freed from his usual oppressive crowd of fans, He Yu seemed to shed his sullen skin from the previous night. He dragged Binghe by the sleeve from one narrow alleyway to the next, pointing out bizarre local trinkets, insisting they buy matching hand-woven bamboo crickets, and practically forcing Binghe to try a scalding stall-baked pastry that left them both laughing at the sheer absurdity of a high-profile director and his bodyguard eating like truant schoolboys on a curb.
Yet, beneath the laughter, an invisible, high-voltage wire of anxiety hummed right under Binghe's skin. Every time He Yu laughed, his head tilting back, his dark eyes crinkling with what looked like pure, unadulterated boyish glee—Binghe’s chest tightened.
He found himself hyper-analyzing every single movement. When they boarded a small wooden canopy boat to ride down the main canal, the gentle rocking forced them close, their shoulders brushing. "Look at that, Binghe," He Yu murmured, leaning over the edge to watch the ripples. His face was relaxed, washed in the warm glow of the setting sun. "You have good taste. It’s quiet here. Well... quiet enough."
"Is it?" Binghe asked, his voice steady but his mind a chaotic vortex. He stared at He Yu's profile.
A lover.
The words from the text message yesterday felt like a physical weight in his pocket, heavier than the phone itself. He looked at He Yu's jawline, remembering the brutal video—the punch to the gut, the tears, the absolute desperation of a boy who usually wore a mask of complete emotional invulnerability.
Who was Xie Qingcheng to make a monster like He Yu beg? And more importantly, what was He Yu thinking right now, sitting across from him, acting as if the world was nothing but a playground?
"What's wrong?" He Yu suddenly turned his head, caught Binghe staring, and flashed a brilliant, teasing smile. "Am I too handsome? Are you falling for your employer, Bodyguard Luo?" The joke was classic He Yu, but to Binghe, the waters felt incredibly murky.
He couldn't read him. Was this playful banter a genuine release of stress, or was it something else? The agonizing uncertainty made Binghe's stomach churn. His warm yet shattered heart on the floor were trickling like stars, slowly but surely turning bright.
"Don't be ridiculous," Binghe snapped softly, crossing his arms and looking out at the passing stone docks to hide the tremor of anxiety in his chest. "Just make sure you don't fall into the river. I'm not paid for water rescues."
He Yu let out a soft hum, turning back to the water, his fingers trailing in the cool canal. The silence that settled between them wasn't hostile, but for Binghe, the beautiful scenery of Zhujiajiao felt entirely out of focus. He was trapped in a labyrinth of his own growing resentment and fear, desperately searching the director's face for a truth he wasn't sure he even wanted to find.
Binghe was so caught up by his own mind that he hadn’t notice the notifications from the client that was sent hours ago.
[I heard he was He Yu’s lover.]
[I needed to verify if he truly is.]
(Unread Chats)
[Luo Binghe. I need the answer by next week.]
[You’re not the only one at risk here if I don’t receive the answer I’m looking for.]
Binghe’s blood turned cold in the next notification: a photo of Binghe and He Yu to where they were standing yesterday, and a man’s gun pointing right at him.