Chapter Text
“Do you love me?”
Mei Changsu’s brows wrinkled slightly before his eyes fluttered open. He grimaced a little – slightly disoriented from the sunlight streaking through the gaps in his hotel room curtains. Clearly, he hadn’t recovered from the jet lag yet.
He lifted his hand to block the offensive light and was greeted by long, pale fingers and a smooth pristine wrist where a much sturdier, tanned appendage ought to be. He could still envision the tan line from the Chiyan bracelet on that wrist but his memory seemed to fare much better than his physique anyhow.
“Do you love me?”
He felt the corners of his mouth lift up. It wasn’t a dream, per se. It was just a distant memory. A rich bass. Large round doe-like eyes. Thick eyebrows. Perfectly cut jawline. A ready smile. A heart freely given.
“How can I even part with you?” Mei Changsu muttered to himself as he ruefully tried to latch onto the projection of Xiao Jingyan that his greedy mind had just conjured.
But he wasn’t him anymore. And Jingyan was still Jingyan.
Mei Changsu shook his head to lose the last vestiges of sleep. He crossed the plush carpet of his upscale suite that overlooked Central Park.
Briefly, he considered slinking into the high-backed leather chair that was placed next to the floor-length windows so he could maniacally taper his hands and tap his finger pads together as he gazed at the bustling city below but managed to convince himself not to. Mafia stereotypes and such. Truly, the last thing the elusive head of one of the world’s leading “borderline” legal syndicates needed.
Instead, he forced himself into the bathroom, which was, in his opinion, a huge monstrosity of steel and granite built for the cruel and unusual torture of those who, well, sometimes, ordered the cruel and unusual torture of others. But truly, what a rude awakening in the morning to dunk oneself with water. Fatty wouldn’t appreciate it. But then again, Fatty didn’t get bathed often.
Half an hour later, Mei Changsu had finally relieved himself of his self-inflicted torture and allowed himself to recover from the daily ordeal.
“Really? Really?” He heard the great annoyance that was his best friend.
“What?” Mei Changsu sighed, marking the page in the morning report Li Gang had brought in earlier.
Lin Chen just gestured with his fan.
“It’s rude to point.”
“It’s clichéd that you of all people are sitting in that high-backed chair, overlooking the city, reading a report stinking of schemes you can pull concerning some very influential figures in said city, with an overweight white Persian cat on your lap!”
“Fei Liu is not overweight! He’s fluffy!”
“…You call him Fatty.”
Mei Changsu raised an eyebrow, clearly emoting “So?”
A blur of white fur dashed from Mei Changsu’s lap, left a long tear in the hem of Lin Chen’s designer pants, and sauntered back, apparently quite proud of himself.
Used to the cat’s antics by now, Lin Chen could only sigh.
“The documents you wanted on lover-boy,” Lin Chen tossed a manila envelope at the seated man, who deftly caught it in midair.
A soft light glimmered briefly in Mei Changsu’s eyes before he tore open the envelope, revealing an assortment of pictures that were clearly taken without the subject’s awareness and some documents that should not have left the cabinets of certain high profile governmental offices.
Lin Chen just helplessly shook his fan at Mei Changsu before leaving. He remembered years ago when the other man would at least look abashed when others mentioned his crush. The good old days before the man behind the looming force that was Jiangzuo Alliance gained his thick skin…
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New York was energetic. That was Xiao Jingyan’s first impression of the city he’d been assigned to. Morningside Park had been bustling with joggers and dog walkers during his customary morning run before the sun fully rose. The streets of even his relatively quiet residential neighborhood were never empty. 24 hour delis lined every block. He liked the energy even though he was rarely part of it.
Xiao Jingyan was just a newly hired security guard after all. No Bohemian intellectual endeavor fraught with the trials of materialism and no high-flying power suits either. At least on paper. He supposed that on the rare occasions when he had to report to his superiors, some form of suit from that boot-shaped country might be appropriate.
He briefly wondered if his mark preferred those suits. The man behind the organization that controlled major trades in markets on either side of the legal divide in the 14 most economically powerful states probably had his suits bespoke.
Xiao Jingyan allowed himself a quick smirk as he waited in line for his morning bagel – plain and toasted, with cream cheese, thanks.
Which was apparently one smirk too many as karma rewarded him and his cheaply made security guard uniform with half a cup of freshly brewed, overly acidic – and quite clearly, unnecessarily hot – coffee.
“Oh my!” The perpetrator gasped, “Are you okay?”
Jingyan glanced up from his now stained uniform to see one of the most stunning people he’d ever laid eyes on.
What had he just been saying about bespoke suits?
This man was definitely wearing one - one that had definitely been made for someone else.
Yes, stunning was the right word. Jingyan might have suspected that the man was a trained agent like himself if he weren’t using just about the most clichéd way to initiate contact in the book. In a suit that looked like it would have made the cover of GQ in the 1970s, a pair of huge thickly rimmed dork glasses, and a suitcase that may as well have been a trunk from the Harry Potter movie set. Plus, not that Jingyan was looking or anything, but the frame that was dwarfed several sizes over by the suit was clearly too frail to have been trained for combat.
But that was beside the point.
Because the point was the man who looked like he’d be the poster child for “most likely to be bullied” had just retrieved a handkerchief – yes, really – from his breast pocket and was dabbing it all over Jingyan’s chest and meandering ever so close the buckle of his belt.
The deli was still relatively empty at 6am. The previously somewhat sleepy girls behind the counter were giggling and making cat calls.
Jingyan felt his cheeks flame up.
“Please, it’s okay,” Jingyan ground out as he none-so-gently gripped the other man’s thin wrists.
The other man’s pale pink lips formed a small shocked ‘o’ shape as he realized just where his hands were closing in on.
“I’m so sorry!” He squeaked out, his alabaster cheeks flushing with color as his slanted, dark eyes grew wide.
“It’s okay-” Jingyan began, only to be cut off.
“Let me take care of the dry cleaning! My work place isn’t so far away and I can get you my spare suit!”
At this, the girl behind the cash register couldn’t hold in her laugh.
“No, really” Jingyan felt himself getting impatient, “I work around here too and I’m running late.”
But it was too late.
The other man had started dragging him out the deli, hastily slapping down a few crumpled bills for the bagel that Jingyan hadn’t even gotten to eat yet.
As it turned out, the frail man in the oversized suit was in IT at the same firm (or cover company, as Jingyan dubbed it) that Jingyan had been assigned. So the latter was thankfully saved from coming up with an excuse to not wear the man’s spare suit, the visage of which Jingyan could only imagine.
After thanking his supervisor for vouching to the other man that Jingyan did, indeed, work at Zuo Enterprises, and that he therefore had his own spare uniform, Jingyan swiped in his time slot for the day.
A little brown bag with a note was attached on the card swiper.
To the handsome man I intentionally spilled coffee all over today, please allow me to apologize for your missed breakfast. Here’s your bagel. You can treat me next time. – Su Zhe.