That morning, the two of them left the house one after the other. For the first time in years, Ouyang Jinghui was late—his speech at the board meeting was already pushed back, while Jiang Yi had to rush to Ivan Studio for a meeting with a new client, a manufacturer he’d met at a previous architectural exchange.
During lunch with the client, Jiang Yi’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, excused himself, and answered by the window.
Ouyang’s voice was unusually calm on the phone: “Jiang Yi, we have one month.”
“Okay. See you tonight. Bye.”
This brief and extremely cool reply left Ouyang Jinghui, sitting at his desk with the receiver in hand, stunned. What was this? This Jiang Yi!
Still reeling from the sudden turn of events, the project manager was ushered into Ouyang’s office by his secretary. Seeing the boss frowning in deep thought, visibly troubled, the manager felt a bit pressured. Everyone at Longtai knew Chairman Ouyang was unflappable—nothing could make him frown. That’s why the whole company was always steady. But today, the boss had missed the morning expo for the first time, and his “Sorry, I’m late” had left everyone in shock. Even the staff coming in and out of his office couldn’t distract him.
Ouyang had no idea people were paying so much attention to his reaction. He hadn’t felt this confused in a long time, and it was all because of someone who seemed so indifferent and detached.
He thought he must have lost his mind when he said “one month.” He never made decisions lightly about the unknown, let alone about entering a close relationship.
He and Menghai had grown distant lately, both sensing it and not disturbing each other. They were both tactful and self-aware, knowing exactly how far their relationship would go. After the art exhibition, they were down to polite greetings. The rift began when Menghai said she wanted to study in France. The Oil Painting Association had sent someone to invite her, and a master painter had recommended her. Menghai was tempted, but hesitated because she didn’t want to lose Ouyang Jinghui.
Ouyang didn’t want to use emotional reasons to control someone else’s life. Besides, his relationship with Liang Menghai had always been rational and gentle. While everyone assumed they were a couple, they’d never even reached a basic consensus.
From the day he saw Jiang Yi at Menghai’s place, Ouyang suddenly realized that Menghai needed a different kind of partner. She appeared open-minded but actually longed for family life—something Ouyang couldn’t give her. A successful businessman and a successful artist—hardly an optimistic combination.
Ouyang was a model of business success, but his private life was simple. He didn’t like giving his peers any leverage, and had no interest in cheating or casual affairs. He was always disciplined and self-controlled. But this time, meeting Jiang Yi had upended everything. Ouyang found himself in utter chaos, realizing it was much harder to resist his own desires than he’d thought.
He was sure he didn’t have a sexual preference for men, but he couldn’t say no to Jiang Yi. This confused and frustrated him. He hated to admit his judgment had lapsed, that he’d agreed to Jiang Yi’s proposal. Anyone else would think it absurd, so why could he say it so naturally, even leaving so much space and freedom for Jiang Yi?
Since that chance encounter at the Arc de Triomphe, this charming man, Jiang Yi, had barged into his life, stolen his attention, and now entered his private world.
From that day on, Jiang Yi began to manage this short-lived relationship. Even though he knew Ouyang Jinghui would never truly belong to him, he tried to let them both burn out completely, just like his previous relationships.
Maybe it was an unspoken understanding between them—they only sparked within the boundaries they had. For both, the other was an incredibly challenging partner.
That evening, Ouyang was a little nervous driving home, unsure how their “new relationship” would start. But as soon as he walked in and saw Jiang Yi, dressed in simple loungewear, leaning casually on the stairs to greet him, he relaxed. Jiang Yi always surprised him.
Jiang Yi could be emotional at times, like now, standing with arms crossed, smiling and saying, “Come upstairs and help me with something.”
As soon as they got upstairs, Jiang Yi grabbed his hand as naturally as could be, half-running to pull Ouyang up to the attic. Ouyang let out a surprised “huh?”—the attic floor was covered with an unfinished model jet, surrounded by scattered parts.
Jiang Yi sat down and started fiddling with it. “Take a look—this was a gift from a client, but I can’t get a few parts to fit.”
Actually, Ouyang had never assembled one of these before, but he knelt down and braced himself: “Can it really fly?”
“Yes, it’s remote-controlled. But you have to fit the rest of the parts into the fuselage first.”
“High-IQ mechanical engineering,” Ouyang concluded, then immediately set about cleaning up the mess, checking and rearranging the components one by one. The more he worked, the more he got into it, rediscovering a bit of the fun he had as a kid.
Jiang Yi went downstairs to grind some coffee beans, then brought a steaming cup up to Ouyang’s lips before quietly sitting down to watch the assembly process. He couldn’t help but offer advice, which started to wear on Ouyang’s patience.
“That’s not right—the screws for engine section three are the small ones.”
“No, they’re the medium ones.”
“Did you even look at the diagram?”
Annoyed, Ouyang muttered, “If you know so much, do it yourself.”
Jiang Yi didn’t argue, just reached over and started working on it himself.
Ouyang couldn’t stand it, so halfway through he snatched it back. “I’ll do it. Just don’t butt in.”
“If it doesn’t fly, you’re fully responsible,” Jiang Yi said, standing up and brushing off his pants. “I’m done watching. Call me when you’re finished.”
Ouyang hadn’t even had time to shower after coming home and was already being dragged up to the attic for manual labor, while that guy just went back to his room to relax. Gritting his teeth, Ouyang struggled on, wondering if this was some kind of “lover’s” initiation test.
Forty minutes later, it was finally done. When he stood up, his legs were numb, and he wasn’t sure if the thing would actually fly, but at least all the parts were inside. He went to Jiang Yi’s room to call him. The door was left ajar, so he pushed it open—this was the first time Ouyang had entered Jiang Yi’s room since he’d moved into Xiao Zhu Courtyard. The guest room was shockingly simple: aside from the bed and wardrobe, there was nothing, except for the one valuable thing—the painting “Waiting” on the wall.
Jiang Yi, who’d been napping, woke up at the sound of Ouyang’s voice and crawled down from the bed, still groggy. “Done already? That fast?”
Ouyang shot back, “Why aren’t you using the AC?”
“It’s broken.”
“Come sleep in my room.”
“You don’t mind?”
“I just don’t want to see you torturing yourself.”
“Weren’t you the one who kicked me out of the master bedroom?”
Ouyang was speechless, and as he walked out, he said helplessly, “Let’s go test-fly it. I’ll take full responsibility.”
Jiang Yi laughed, but two seconds later, he lowered his head quietly. One month, Jiang Yi—are you really ready? He shook his head hard, put on his shoes, and followed Ouyang out.
Downstairs on the rough lawn, Ouyang turned on a few floodlights by the door, handed the fully charged remote to Jiang Yi, and held the plane himself. After about five minutes of fiddling, things finally started to look promising. When the wings extended and the plane buzzed up into the air, the two grown men cheered like kids.
“Wow!” Jiang Yi was thrilled and pushed the throttle.
Ouyang protested, “It only has a range of three hundred meters, don’t get carried away.”
“What’s there to worry about? Even if it crashes outside the yard, I can find it,” Jiang Yi declared with the kind of childish bravado he hadn’t used in over a decade.
They took turns flying it for twenty minutes, but the plane didn’t land safely—it crash-landed straight into the bushes. Ouyang was about to go retrieve it when Jiang Yi grabbed his arm, pulled him close, and gave him a scorching, deep kiss. Ouyang’s back went rigid; he’d never kissed anyone so passionately outdoors before and was momentarily at a loss. Only when Jiang Yi’s tongue pressed insistently between his lips did he finally respond, biting gently in return. Jiang Yi kissed him back even more fiercely, as if he wanted to swallow him whole, a mix of urgency and obsession in every move.
Ouyang didn’t understand how someone as seemingly cool as Jiang Yi could be so passionate at times. It made him feel as if he’d gone back to the reckless days of young love, sneaking around just to meet up. He realized he’d had that kind of time once, but as he grew older and learned to see through people, romance had cooled. Now, though, Jiang Yi’s actions really made him feel alive again, his whole body buzzing with excitement and heat, as if he was being transformed.
This model-building session had worked wonders—Jiang Yi had erased the awkwardness from the start, and now their time alone together felt completely natural.
Later, Ouyang was standing in the hallway, waiting for Jiang Yi to come out of the bathroom. Earlier, they’d had some brandy at the downstairs bar, chatted about work, and then drifted into more personal topics. Jiang Yi talked about his experiences in America, didn’t hide the industry’s dark side, and even warned Ouyang to be careful in future business dealings.
“Why are you telling me all this?” Ouyang asked, tilting back the last of his drink.
“You really don’t know?”
That light, teasing question left Ouyang at a loss. He turned his empty glass in his hand, not sure how to respond.
At that moment, Ouyang felt utterly lost. He’d accepted Jiang Yi, but what was the foundation of their relationship? Was it the sparks from their business duels, or just mutual admiration? Since he couldn’t tell, why had he agreed so readily? He, Ouyang Jinghui, had been single for so long, never imagining that at the height of his career he’d find such resonance with another man—and that it would only grow stronger. It was an unexpected, contradictory turning point.
While Ouyang was lost in thought, Jiang Yi came out of the bathroom. This time, he wasn’t wearing a bathrobe—just a white towel around his waist. His bare torso was striking, muscular and evenly proportioned, his skin tanned from time on construction sites, glistening with water under the soft lights.
Ouyang knew Jiang Yi was about the same height as him; they could almost share clothes, though their styles were different. Jiang Yi preferred simple, light-colored, straightforward clothes—elegant but not pretentious. Ouyang was more robust, with a broad, solid chest and a masculine jawline. The first time Jiang Yi saw him, his heart skipped a beat—he felt inexplicably drawn in. This kind of pure male beauty was a first for Jiang Yi, who was usually the one being noticed.
Before anything had happened between them, Jiang Yi had imagined more than once what it would feel like to be held by this body—so much so that the desire sometimes drove him to pleasure himself at night. Finally, that night in the hotel, he’d boldly acted on his thoughts. It had taken a lot of detours, but it was more comforting than he’d expected. At least Ouyang Jinghui was willing to give him a month. That was enough—he didn’t want to be greedy, especially with feelings.
Jiang Yi walked over to Ouyang, his face flushed from the combination of alcohol and hot water. He said softly, “Ouyang, stay with me a little longer. Let’s listen to some music, okay?”
“‘Miss Saigon,’ maybe? It’s lively.”
“Sure, better than Bach.”
Ouyang couldn’t help but laugh and led the way to the attic sofa. They sat side by side, not acting any more intimate than usual, just leaning against each other. The lights were dim, the house quiet. It was probably already past midnight, but neither of them checked the clock or bothered to pick out a CD.
Chapter 11
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