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“Dad.”
The word was said through gritted teeth. If Luo Binghe could help it, he wouldn’t want to speak to the man at all, let alone call him such a title. Alas, there was nothing he could do. In both name and blood, the man was his father.
“Hm?” Luo Bingge, the man Binghe called Dad, didn’t deign to raise his head; his nose remained buried in the tablet he was scrolling, eyes scanning the document without expression. “What?”
His tone full of reluctance and a scowl on his face, Luo Binghe spoke to his father without a shred of respect.
“You need to come to school this afternoon.”
Finally, Luo Bingge lifted his head and studied his son.
When the two faced each other, it was like they were carved from the same piece of marble. At just seventeen years old, Binghe’s features were still immature, though quickly developing into those of a young man. Bingge, on the other hand, was a mature thirty-six-year-old and painted the future vision of what Binghe would grow into. Either way, as a youthful seventeen-year-old boy or a seasoned, older man, there was only one word to describe them: handsome!
“Is that any way to talk to your father?”
Luo Bingge placed his tablet on the coffee table. He looked up at his son standing in the doorway to their lounge and pressured him with nothing but a single sentence and his aura.
This is just one of the reasons Luo Binghe hated his father.
In general, the two were like fire and ice; they just didn’t get along. Their interests and hobbies were opposed; their personalities clashed. Not once had they ever agreed on a simple thing. Even choosing takeout for dinner would turn into an argument and end in them ordering and eating separately.
In Luo Binghe’s opinion, the man could barely be called a father. Other than feeding him, clothing him, and putting a roof over his head, Bingge did absolutely nothing else for him. Hell, Binghe hadn’t even met the man until the woman he had called his mother dumped him on Bingge’s doorstep four years ago!
It was quite literally flipping from one fiery pan straight into another!
On a usual day, Luo Binghe would have argued with his father. He would have played the rebellious, unfilial child and refused, but this wasn’t an ordinary day.
It was the last parent-teacher meeting of his high school life, and it was mandatory for him to have a guardian in attendance, else there would be a black mark against his otherwise pristine record.
With that in mind, Luo Binghe braced himself and lowered his head, humbly asking with a tight, tense jaw.
“Will you come to school tonight, Dad? Please.”
It was the politest way Luo Binghe had spoken to his father in three and a half years.
Bingge was satisfied, the hint of smugness settling in his brow. Then he picked up his tablet and swiftly replied.
“No.”
A single, simple word, and Binghe almost blew his top. His fingers twitched, and the expensive vase on the nearest cabinet looked like the perfect murder weapon. That wouldn’t do. He can’t go to prison for murder. Not yet.
Sucking up his frustration and anger, Luo Binghe carefully chose his words, excluding any obscenities and insults that he usually would have bitten back with.
“Please, Dad. I really need you to attend this time.”
Bingge sighed and threw his tablet back onto the table with a thump. What an annoying little brat his son was. If the mother hadn’t dumped him on his doorstep while he was still sleeping and disappeared without a trace, there’s no way he would have such a troublesome tenant living with him. The most frustrating thing about it all was that Luo Bingge didn’t even know of Binghe’s existence until the morning he opened the door and found a sodden rat sleeping there!
Luo Bingge would have liked to send him on his way and refuse to acknowledge him, but the fact that he was practically looking into a mirror of his younger self meant that was impossible. It didn’t stop him from getting a paternity test, though. It’s just unfortunate that it came back positive.
Luckily Bingge had enough money to at least give Binghe an appropriate living and schooling environment. Binghe may not have had the warmest homes growing up, but food and drink were never a problem.
It was rare for Luo Binghe to act so humble in front of him, though 'humble' was a term he would use very loosely. Clearly something was amiss.
“Why?”
Luo Binghe’s back straightened. It seemed like it was time for negotiation. In a way, Binghe couldn’t fault his father. For a man in the prime of his life to suddenly discover he had a teenage son and have him thrust upon him, it probably wasn’t a very pleasant experience. The man didn’t offer any sort of emotional support, but he did provide him with other life skills, such as the ability to manipulate persuade others.
In a concise manner, Luo Binghe reported to his father.
“It’s the last parent-teacher meeting of the school year; guardian attendance is mandatory.” Then he added, “My teacher said he will have to call you if you don’t attend.”
Plus, while Luo Binghe didn’t mind his teacher worrying about him—in fact, he somewhat encouraged it—he didn’t want his teacher to stress about his home life. Binghe attended a school for the rich and privileged; all of the students were detached from their parents to a degree. Binghe would rather his teacher focus his attention on him rather than on his environment and especially not on his father.
Believe him; if Binghe could prevent this meeting from happening, he would!
Luo Bingge watched his son for a moment. Over the past four years he had managed to avoid all of the parent-teacher meetings; he just didn’t have time for them. Not to mention he wasn’t worried about Binghe’s choices at all. That’s not to say he didn’t care about his son’s education and future; why would he pay so much for Binghe to attend the best school if that was the case? It’s just that whatever he chose to do didn’t really matter. Bingge had his own business. They were rolling in cash. Quite frankly, Luo Binghe could spend the rest of his life lying down and indulging in life's pleasures, and he wouldn’t have to worry about money for even one second.
So, in his own way, Luo Bingge did actually care about his son, and he decided that now was a perfect time to show this ‘care’.
“Oh?” Luo Bingge dragged out the sound, and his lips widened into a grin. With eyes full of mirth, he asked his son, “So I would get to meet that little crush of yours?”
In less than a second, Luo Binghe’s composure crumbled. His humble attitude disappeared, and he bared his fangs like a threatened puppy.
“How—? What—? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Luo Bingge laughed. His son was still immature. Then he rifled his hand behind a sofa cushion and pulled out a small brown book.
A bright red blush flushed Luo Binghe’s cheeks to a vibrant crimson, but his father wasn’t about to let the humiliation end there. Bingge flicked open the book to a random page and began to read.
“Today, Mr Shen patted me on the head. He rubbed and ruffled my hair with tenderness. He smiled at me with such softness, and I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he felt the same way. When he pulled away, it felt like the moment was over far too soon.”
Luo Binghe lunged at his father to retrieve the book, but, unfortunately, his athleticism was a trait inherited from his dad, who hopped over the back of the sofa like a lithe leopard. Bingge held the book up high and flicked to a different page.
“Mr Shen helped Ning Yingying style her hair today. It’s not fair. Why did he touch her? Does he know how angry it makes me? It feels like he’s teasing me, but I know that’s not the case. Mr Shen would never be mean to me. He would never be mean to anyone. That’s why everyone loves him. But I just want him to love me.”
“Give it back!”
Binghe followed his father, throwing a punch in the first step and then kicking in the next. Bingge dodged his son's attack and flicked to one of the latest pages in the book.
“Last night I dreamed of Mr Shen again—ah, no wonder you were sneaking around in the early hours of the morning, being so secretive. You were trying to hide the evidence.”
Luo Bingge laughed and finally allowed his son to ‘defeat’ him and take back his diary.
“So?” Binghe retorted, trying to disguise his embarrassment as any teenager would. “At least I know what love feels like. Better than you, who can’t keep even a bed partner for more than one night.”
Bingge gave his son a pointed look, then pulled a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. Stuffing one in his mouth, he lit it and then took a long drag. Blowing the smoke in his son’s face, Bingge said, “It’s by choice.”
Honestly, if Luo Bingge wanted a wife, he could easily find one. With his looks, money, and business, no one would be foolish enough to refuse him; he just didn’t want the attachment. Having one son to bother him was enough.
“Besides, it’s better than using my hand.”
The father and son entered a new competition, completely forgetting about the matter at hand. Having relations without emotion, or having the emotion without relations—the winner of the argument was destined to be left a mystery, as their discussion was interrupted by the ringing of Luo Bingge’s phone.
“What?” He snapped, pausing the quarrel.
“S-sir, you have a meeting in thirty minutes.”
“Alright. Got it.”
The phone was decisively hung up, and the father-son pair were left in a deadlock.
There was no awkwardness as Bingge said, “I’m leaving,” and Binghe didn’t make any further comment.
It was always like this.
Their altercations were quick to start and quick to end. A strike would be noted in their little books, but ultimately the bickering would be forgotten and replaced with a new topic.
Luo Bingge picked up his tablet, straightened his suit and headed to the door. Behind him, his son didn’t forget to remind him.
“The appointment is at 3pm.”
Luo Bingge didn’t respond with words, just taking another drag of his cigarette and waving his hand in acknowledgement as he left.
Binghe breathed a sigh of relief. His father may be good for nothing, but he could at least trust him to stick to his word.
Luo Bingge was annoyed.
Having been stuck in meetings all day with useless, insolent employees, spending an hour with a stuffy, prim and proper teacher was at the bottom of the list of things he most wanted to do. If we were to talk about the top of the list, then that would be to have a smoke.
Of course, Luo Bingge was the type of person to do what he wanted.
So, true to his own nature, Luo Bingge recalled his own school days. He may not have attended this particular establishment, but everywhere tended to have the same sort of secretive space for students or teachers to sneak off to. After wandering around for ten minutes, Luo Bingge slunk behind the sports hall. With any luck, all the kids and teachers would be in class.
Behind the sports hall was a long, rectangular grassy space covered in shadow. It was covert, hidden, and most importantly, void of other human beings.
Releasing the tension from his shoulders, Bingge calculated he had about ten minutes of smoke time before he needed to head to the classroom. He pulled out his phone and a cigarette and absently strolled forward until he bumped into something.
“Gah!”
Gah?
'Gah' is not a sound that the refined Luo Bingge would make.
Swiftly flicking the torch of his phone on, Luo Bingge pointed it to the ground where his leg had hit something and a loud thunk had sounded.
Surprisingly, on the floor was a young man. He must have been squatting originally, but now he was half sprawled out. A book lay about a foot away — that must have been the source of the thunk.
“Ah, fuck. That was my last cigarette.”
The man scrambled about on the floor, picking up the cigarette which had fallen into the only puddle in sight. Fortunately he had the light from Luo Bingge’s torch to guide him.
How unlucky, thought Luo Bingge. Then, after another thought, he pulled another cigarette out of the box in his pocket. He was the one who knocked the man over, after all.
“Here.”
The man on the floor suddenly looked up, his eyes squinting against the bright light of Bingge’s phone.
When Luo Bingge saw the man's face, he was taken aback, holding the smoke in his mouth for two seconds longer.
Despite squinting, the man had beautiful eyes. They were sharp, yet the laughter lines at the corners softened them to make the man appear endearingly elegant. His face was made up of dignified and delicate lines, his hair looked fluffy, and his lips looked malleable.
An attractive pretty boy.
Truth be told, if Luo Bingge hadn’t met him on school grounds, he would have been an ideal candidate for a bed partner.
“Oh, thanks!” The man eagerly accepted the cigarette and stuffed it in his mouth, yet he only chewed the end without lighting it.
Luo Bingge watched, then generously offered his rare assistance.
“Need a light?”
“No, thanks.” The man said, then wiped off his back and returned to squatting. “Still on the clock; can’t smoke right now.”
So the man was a teacher. At least he had the sense not to smoke while on duty; while adults could understand the occasional bad habit and vice, it wouldn’t be good to encourage the children.
“What time is it?” The man suddenly asked, squinting up at Luo Bingge again.
“Two fifty.” Luo Bingge replied.
“Ten minutes… It should only take five for me to read this part.”
After muttering to himself, the man then opened his book and proceeded to read.
Although this might be considered rude, good-looking people were party to all sorts of ridiculous exceptions. It also didn’t help that Luo Bingge was distracted by the content. His eyes were assaulted by an explicit description of what could only be described as an action/adventure/fantasy/harem romance novel.
Luo Bingge looked at the man's face.
For one, he couldn’t quite accept that a person who looked like that would read such raunchy material. And second, he couldn’t quite figure out how the man had been planning to read before, as there was no light around. Maybe he hadn’t quite gotten around to turning on his own torch to read yet, but Bingge didn’t think too much as he was still concerned with the first point.
“You enjoy that?”
“Hm?” The man paused his reading and squinted up at Bingge. “Well, to say that I enjoy it would be incorrect. You see, the main plot is exceptional. The protagonist is written with a keen eye, the type that most boys admire and aspire to be like. But – and it’s a big but – the author is a hack. He goes off on tangents, forgets branching plot lines, and his naming skills for anything other than people are absolutely horrendous; and his writing of the spicier scenes? He can throw up five thousand words for an orgy, but for half of that he’ll get the female parties’ names wrong! Multiple! Times! Is it the demon princess or the most beautiful female cultivator whose tongue is long and skilled enough to bring a man to heaven's door?! Make up your mind!”
Okay, Luo Bingge could see the man felt strongly about it.
If he were to ignore the words coming out of the man’s mouth, Luo Bingge could feel the stirring of something in his core – ah! He quickly stubbed out the cigarette butt which had burnt his fingertips on the building wall.
The man slammed his book shut while panting.
The sound did nothing to help quell the sparks fluttering in Luo Bingge’s stomach.
“Out of time. Whatever.” The man jumped to his feet and brushed the dirt from his neat suit pants and tidy, tucked-in white shirt. Carrying the book in one hand, he proffered a quick thanks for the torchlight before starting to walk off.
Luo Bingge couldn’t help himself.
“Are you going to smoke that?” He pointed the light towards the cigarette in the man's mouth. Then, who knows if it was a subtle brag, he said, “It’s expensive.”
The man paused and glanced at the box Bingge had produced, just catching a glimpse of the brand from the glow of the torchlight. He almost bit the cigarette in half. Cursing again, the man carefully took the cigarette from his mouth and offered it back to Luo Bingge.
“No, sir.” He waited for Bingge to take it before scurrying off, quietly muttering to himself, “Just one cigarette and it’s worth more than my month’s wages!”
Luo Bingge, having caught what the man said, laughed.
Now he was left alone behind the sports hall. Luo Bingge looked at the chewed-up cigarette in his hand and then checked the time.
A couple of minutes should be fine…
He placed the cigarette between his lips and lit the end. He took a long drag before exhaling the smoke. It didn’t alleviate the itchiness in his fingers or the heat in his gut.
Guess he’ll have to find a bed partner for the night.
Luo Bingge was in a far better mood as he took his time strolling to the classroom where he would meet his son’s teacher.
He wasn’t exactly keen to have this meeting and discuss his son’s plans – they weren’t any of his business at the end of the day. Binghe was almost an adult; he could make his own decisions, and he, as his father, would be there to clean up any messes that he made. That was just his style.
After the brief meeting with the teacher behind the gym, Bingge was somewhat distracted.
Obviously he couldn’t find that teacher now. It would be inappropriate to approach the man with such intentions while his son was still a student, yet Luo Bingge couldn’t quite switch off like he usually did with people he couldn’t and shouldn’t touch.
The man’s handsome face, his impassioned speech, and his charming way of chewing expensive cigarettes had caught his attention. He was still considering the idea of chasing the man after Binghe graduated when he reached the classroom. He only had a few more months left to wait, right? But how would he find him?
Luo Bingge knocked on the door, inattentive and aloof. When he heard a noise, he entered and suddenly found his feet rooted to the spot.
His eyes landed on the teacher seated at the desk, and after a tick of time, a wide smile bloomed on his face. He marched over to the desk, reaching out his hand before taking his seat.
The teacher smiled back, grabbing Luo Bingge’s hand in a firm handshake.
“You must be Binghe’s father; you look just like him.” The teacher spoke and then introduced himself. “I’m Binghe’s teacher, Mr Shen – Shen Yuan.”
Bingge rubbed his fingers together after Shen Yuan released his hand. Unable to restrain his grin, he took a seat opposite the teacher. Shortly after, Shen Yuan jumped into the topic of their meeting.
Initially, Luo Bingge had planned to put minimal effort into the discussion; just getting it over and done with was his mentality. But now he had an ulterior motive; he needed to impress Shen Yuan. For once, he actually sat and attentively listened in detail as the teacher expressed their happiness and worries over his child.
At the end of the meeting, Luo Bingge was impressed.
Shen Yuan had a completely different personality in front of his students' parents. The contrast only excited Bingge more.
He got up to leave, and while exiting the building with the teacher who was seeing him out, Bingge recalled a fact he should have remembered a while ago.
It seemed his son had inherited a lot of things from him, including his taste in partner.
The building was deserted as they strolled towards the exit. Bingge had discovered that all students and teachers happened to be offsite. Shen Yuan was only present because Binghe had delayed the meeting as much as he could, and this was the only time the teacher could squeeze in. As it turned out, it was only the two of them in the school except for a couple of security guards. Shen Yuan must have assumed he was one of the guards when they met behind the gym, and with the light shining directly in his eyes, there was no way for him to confirm the appearance of who he was speaking to.
What a blessing; else Bingge may not have found this treasure.
They finally reached the entryway to the building, and Luo Bingge stopped just outside the door.
“Have a good evening, Mr Luo. Binghe is a good kid; you have nothing to worry about.”
Luo Bingge turned to stare at the teacher. Now, that handsome face was bathed in sunlight and wearing a graceful smile; it radiated a certain appeal that hooked others in. Although Bingge knew that this was the same person who was hunched over an erotic book, chewing on a cigarette, the two images just didn’t quite align. On a whim, he decided to test something.
“Do you smoke, Mr Shen?” He asked with a lazy drawl.
Shen Yuan blinked in bewilderment. His lips remained upturned, and he shook his head.
“It’s a bad habit,” he began to explain. “I need to set a good example for the ki—”
Shen Yuan’s rambling came to a full stop like a hiker on the edge of a cliff. He watched as Luo Binghe pulled a cigarette box from his pocket — a brand where one cigarette was equivalent to one month's wages — and then pulled a half-smoked cigarette from the packet with the end chewed like a dog had got hold of it.
He stared at the cigarette, then at the box, and finally his eyes landed on Bingge’s joyful expression.
Luo Bingge raised his brows, and that’s when Shen Yuan’s facade crumbled.
“Fuck!”
His brows furrowed and his smile warped in frustration. It was clearly the first time he had fallen off his horse, and Luo Bingge was overjoyed to have been the one to pull him down. Out of sympathy, he tilted the cigarette box in Shen Yuan’s direction. This time, Shen Yuan unceremoniously snatched a cigarette from the packet and smoothly pulled a lighter from his pocket, lighting it. He even kindly lit the cigarette dangling from Luo Bingge’s mouth when he leaned over.
Luo Bingge’s mind was instantly made up.
He needed to have this man.
“It’s been a week.”
Luo Binghe wallowed in misery as he stared at the date. Having officially graduated from high school, Luo Binghe was now counting how many days had passed since he had last seen his beloved teacher. Then he counted how many days ahead it would be before he would see his teacher again when he collected his exam results.
He had no interest in the results themselves; he was more excited and nervous to see his teacher again.
At 11am, Luo Binghe managed to drag himself out of his bed thanks to the grumbling of his stomach. Traipsing through the large house with slow and heavy footsteps, it was like he wanted everyone to know he was living a melancholy life. His mood perked up when he heard the distant clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen. Was the home help still around? She would always make him the most delicious snack or meal if he asked.
Hurrying his steps, Luo Binghe felt the pain of his hunger rumble in his stomach. He didn’t realise he was so hungry — hungry enough that he started to have hallucinations, because he could have sworn that was Mr Shen’s voice coming from the kitchen.
Luo Binghe burst into the kitchen to clarify his suspicions and thought he had walked into a dream.
Standing in the middle of the kitchen next to a counter was his teacher. Shen Yuan was wrapped in a fluffy white gown, the kind only Binghe and his father had. The hem only reached his thighs, which were completely bare underneath, and his feet were naked, showing off his cute round toes. The lapels of the gown weren’t quite closed, and his smooth chest, showing the occasional deep purple mark, was exposed. He held a saucepan in one hand and a knife in the other.
It was the picture of domestic bliss, reminiscent of many of Binghe’s dreams of what their future homelife would look like.
“Baby, don’t be like this. I said I was sorry.”
And that single sentence twisted Luo Binghe’s dream into his worst nightmare.
As it turned out, Shen Yuan was wielding the kitchen equipment rather than holding it.
A hand reached out for Shen Yuan’s waist, and the teacher took a step back, waving the knife threateningly as a topless man with jogging bottoms loosely hanging on his waist approached him.
“You said that last time too, and I forgave you then. Now you’ve done it again; don’t think I won’t teach you a lesson!”
“Baby, it’s only 11am; are you trying to turn me on?”
Shen Yuan gasped in shock and annoyance and raised the pan in the air.
“Mr Shen?”
The room descended into instant silence.
Shen Yuan whipped around in the direction of the door, and upon spotting his former student, he squeaked and tried to cover his chest with the robe.
“Careful, baby.” Luo Bingge rushed to grab the knife and pan out of Shen Yuan’s hands before he could cause any damage to anyone around him, Bingge, or, more importantly, himself. He then pulled Shen Yuan into his arms, wrapping his hands around the teacher's waist and half hiding him behind his body.
“I thought you said Binghe wasn’t here!?” Shen Yuan hissed an accusation at Bingge, who shrugged his shoulders.
“How should I know?” He asked. “What kind of teenager stays home at 11am after they’ve graduated?”
It was an offhand comment, one without much thought or conviction, because Luo Bingge just didn’t care if his son knew about their relationship. He’d have to find out eventually.
Binghe was left speechless as his father and teacher chatted in their own little two-person world. At first it was a shock, and then it turned into a daze. After a few seconds anger erupted, and then his fury reached boiling point faster than a high-speed train.
“You! How could you!?” He accused his father—the man who knew about his feelings for his teacher.
Oblivious, Shen Yuan thought the scolding was aimed at him. He also thought it was well deserved, so he tried to move from behind Bingge and explain.
“Binghe, I’m sorry. We should have told—”
“Hush, baby.” Bingge covered Shen Yuan’s lips with his hand, then looked at his son. Pressing his own topless body against Shen Yuan, he maintained eye contact with Binghe and then maliciously smiled. He raised his eyebrows in a silent taunt and pressed a kiss against Shen Yuan’s neck.
Luo Binghe could only watch as this scene played out. It was the absolute worst thing that had ever happened to him in his life. Worse than his mother abandoning him and worse than his father not wanting him. Scenes played out in his mind repeatedly, scenes of what he believed his own future to be, but now his face had been replaced with that of his father.
He could imagine the stage of what led to this moment: the thought of his teacher in his father's bed, writhing and moaning, and Luo Binghe felt a crack inside him.
This time, their scuffle couldn’t be forgotten. It couldn’t be written off or remembered for future ammo.
There was no going back.
Binghe glared back at his father, his heart burning with a new hatred.
Fine.
This means war.