Chapter 22: Chasing You
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: Karai
Shi Wenze decided to do something to ease the awkward atmosphere in the room. Coincidentally, Lin Su was thinking the same thing. Without a word, they both looked up at each other. Their eyes met with no defense, and each of them held their breath for a moment, feeling like guilty thieves caught red-handed. Was this what adult love was supposed to feel like? Between the tug and the test, it was suffocating and dizzying, the racing heartbeat making it seem less like they had bought a Baikal Lake painting and more like they had both fallen into one.
Cyberpunk futures were nothing more than this—flat prices, holographic feelings. That 5,888 spent on the brushwork of Ma Cang was worth every penny. Brothers, he was worth it.
Lin Su sat on the edge of the bed, regretting calling Shi Wenze up to his room just moments ago. But since he was already there, sitting around doing nothing was no solution. The room was silent except for Baikal Lake standing quietly in the corner, its blue so intense Lin Su felt like spiraling into the sky. He hadn’t even noticed when it had started raining outside until a sudden thunderclap shook the sky. His already frazzled nerves almost gave out right then and there. Artists really couldn’t handle that kind of shock.
His heart raced wildly. He raised a hand to press against his chest, but someone grabbed it firmly. The next moment, Shi Wenze was half-kneeling—or half-squatting—in front of him. Lin Su was stunned by the bizarre scene, his fingers frozen awkwardly midair. He wasn’t sure if the lightning had struck his brain or his companion’s. Was this a temporal glitch or a nervous breakdown? Was the next step going to be a “Yes, I do” or a call to the emergency room?
Suddenly, life presented a flood of choices. The hand he was supposed to use to mark the answer sheet was now held tightly in someone else’s palm. Of course, Shi Wenze didn’t pull out a ring. Instead, he turned his head and kissed the pale back of Lin Su’s hand. Reluctant to leave, he wandered with kisses down the back of his fingers, the fingertips, the palm, and the wrist. Finally, he whispered, “If you don’t like that painting, give it to your friend. I don’t like it either. I’ll give you another one later.”
Lin Su’s hand was squeezed so hard it hurt, the kind of pain that nearly dislocated his knuckles. Shi Wenze looked up at him. The light was white, the walls white, making everything feel a little cold—including Lin Su himself. His face was pale, lips colorless, but the corners of his eyes tinged with red. Shi Wenze’s heart burned with anxious heat at that splash of color. He pulled Lin Su into his arms. Lin Su struggled for a moment, then they both fell onto the bed.
The fluffy down comforter wrapped around them like a cloud. Shi Wenze tangled his fingers with Lin Su’s and pressed his hand against his ear. Leaning down to kiss him, Lin Su turned his head away.
Neither moved after that. They just held each other, the room so quiet that all they could hear was their breathing. After who knew how long, Lin Su asked, “Do you still act like you did in high school?”
Shi Wenze knew what he meant. Back then, he had been reckless and arrogant—always fighting, acting impulsively, living day to day without care. Yet whenever he faced Lin Su, it was like he became a different person. All his carelessness vanished, replaced by a tough exterior that masked his inner awkwardness, a little sensitivity, a bit of insecurity, and suspicion. When things got tough, he just wanted to run away. Not exactly someone to be proud of.
Lin Su pulled his fingers back from Shi Wenze’s palm. He didn’t like chaos. And high school Shi Wenze had been the embodiment of it—fighting, skipping class, surfing the internet, and constantly punished with cleaning duty. They had been desk mates for a few weeks in sophomore year. During winter break of senior year, Lin Su had hugged a thick college directory and said, “I looked it up—there are plenty of universities in Shanghai, and some don’t require high scores. If you work a little harder, can you get into a second-tier school?”
Maybe it was the sunny afternoon, but Shi Wenze somehow nodded. Still, cramming was never a solid strategy. His “Qilin buff” didn’t activate for the college entrance exam. After handing in the math paper, he knew he had bombed it. The next two exams didn’t matter. After the test, he quietly went back to his hometown in Yangcheng. His college application was basically a lottery—he picked a school whose name he liked, far away in the northwest, a thousand miles from Shanghai. Lin Su called him a few times at first, but Shi Wenze never answered.
Shi Wenze remembered sitting in the corner that afternoon, watching the phone screen flicker on and off. At first, he panicked, not knowing how to answer. Later, he grew annoyed at the other person—Teacher Wang had everyone’s schools listed. Why did Lin Su insist on hearing it from his own mouth? Eventually, he threw the phone in a drawer and switched to a new SIM card.
Before Lin Su left for Shanghai, he’d only left two boxes of sorted study materials and no messages. Wang Hongyu tried persuading Shi Wenze to repeat the year, but he never did. Shi Wenze went to the northwest. Lin Su went abroad a year later. They lost all contact.
Lin Su lay on the bed, staring at the harsh light on the ceiling, his eyes aching. “Actually, I wanted to ask you back then when you’d come back to Chengdu,” he said. “I wasn’t going to ask about your grades or school.”
Shi Wenze buried his face in Lin Su’s neck. “I’m sorry.”
Lin Su asked again, “Will you still be like before?”
“No. I’m changing,” Shi Wenze said, looking at him. “I have a job now, saved some money. I planned to look at houses this year, then maybe try to find you.” It was a slow, ordinary life, but he was really learning to take responsibility for the future.
Being a monster civil servant in Chengdu wasn’t easy to become, but Lin Su believed him. Still, remembering how embarrassed and sad he had been, flying to Shanghai alone after the exams, he couldn’t forgive so easily. Shi Wenze, feeling guilty, whispered in his ear, “Give me one more chance. Just one, okay?”
Lin Su paused. “What chance?”
Shi Wenze said, “The chance to chase you.”
If their positions and moods had been different, Lin Su might have even asked him to record it. He knew Shi Wenze well. Right now, he looked like a pitiful Rottweiler puppy. But once he got what he wanted, his ego would blow up, and his mischief would soar—running off, twisting truth like a pro. Though it hadn’t happened yet, just imagining it made Lin Su feel like his blood pressure might spike. Only Shi Wenze kept going. “If you don’t say no, I’ll take it as a yes.”
Lin Su shook himself out of his thoughts and pushed the person off him, sitting up. “What if you can’t catch me?”
“Then I’ll keep chasing you,” Shi Wenze said. “As long as you don’t get annoyed, I’ll cook for you and bring you flowers every day.”
Romantic and responsible—who wouldn’t admire such a strong, handsome, homey guy? Lin Su still didn’t say a word. Shi Wenze grabbed Lin Su’s left hand and kissed the back of his ring finger. The warmth of his “Qilin” power seemed to burn straight into his heart.
Lin Su felt a chill down his spine. On one hand, he wondered why this guy suddenly became so smooth—kissing the wedding ring spot was basically cheating, totally overwhelming him. On the other hand, since Shi Wenze hadn’t answered his calls back then, now he could hang up on him too. Fair’s fair. Even if it was just for the sake of his future blood pressure after retirement, he had to keep some proof that Shi Wenze was the one chasing him.
Shi Wenze covered both of Lin Su’s hands with his palms. “Are you going to the gallery tomorrow? I’ll pick you up after work, and we can grab dinner together.”
Has the chase already begun? Lin Su looked out the window, trying to keep his voice steady. “No need. I have to stay there all evening to check the lighting effects.”
Shi Wenze said, “Then I’ll come keep you company after work.”
Lin Su thought maybe he should act a little harder to get, so he tried to find a reasonable excuse to refuse. Then he reconsidered—love wasn’t about reason. The other person wasn’t a client who needed logic and evidence. Being unreasonable was the real truth of couples. So he frowned and said, “Don’t come.”
But his tone missed the mark. It didn’t sound cold or aloof. Instead, it came off like a reluctant yes. The whole thing was so awkward Lin Su felt like he needed oxygen.
Lin Lu watched half an episode of the Xia Jiayang CUT variety show downstairs but felt cold and went upstairs for a small blanket. Passing by her brother’s bedroom, curiosity got the better of her. She quietly pressed her ear to the door—only to have it suddenly swung open the next second.
“Ah!” She screamed, terrified.
Lin Su nearly fainted from the shock too.
Only Shi Wenze, who opened the door, barely kept his composure and asked gently, “What’s up?”
Lin Lu’s heart raced. I’m fine! I was just passing by. Lin Su saw his sister had brought a blanket with her, as if she intended to camp outside the door eavesdropping long-term. He started rethinking basic education. No wonder it shouldn’t be left just to nine years of compulsory schooling—the world had produced a peculiar young woman.
Lin Lu felt wronged. Seeing Shi Wenze turn to leave, she offered to escort the guest out, planning to slip away quietly. Lin Su called her back coldly. She stood on tiptoe, hugging the blanket tightly. “Listen, I’m just passing through. I didn’t expect Shi Ge to be here so soon.”
Shi Wenze, coming downstairs, said nothing. Lin Su stared at his sister in disbelief. Lin Lu gasped. “No, no, don’t think the worst! I didn’t mean anything!”
Lin Su had no idea how to discuss this with his sister. His own head was spinning. He wanted to explain but felt words were pointless. Finally, tired, he waved her off, letting this failure of compulsory education go free. Turning back, he looked at the blue of Baikal Lake. Tonight was surely going to be another sleepless night.
The next afternoon, Shi Wenze packed up his desk early, ready to leave work—only to get caught by Zhou Yuansong.
“Come to my office. Bring your cup.”
Experience told Shi Wenze that a meeting with a cup meant it would last at least half an hour. He cursed silently and followed him, saying, “Director Zhou, I really have something going on today.”
Zhou wasn’t swayed. “No excuses. What’s this ‘something’?”
Shi Wenze answered, “Chasing someone.”
Zhou was silent for a beat. Shi Wenze pointed to the bouquet of roses on his desk. Really. Zhou nodded with some humanity. “Then I’ll keep it short. You don’t need the cup.”
Shi Wenze breathed easier, walking toward the office while texting Lin Su he might be a bit late.
Zhou had a thick stack of files on his desk. “Remember that modified Qiongqi?”
“Qian Dagang? Of course. I just updated his files.” Shi Wenze pulled a chair. “Was he caught?”
“Not yet, but there’s a new lead. The investigation team found out he had dealings with a pharmaceutical research firm in Hecheng after his last release. One of the investors behind that company is Song Lie—the owner of Jiayong Auction House here in our city.”
Hearing “Jiayong” surprised Shi Wenze. The manager he’d met at the Fortune Hotel was Song Tao, and the auction house owner was Song Lie. Same family? He’d even had a fishman download the national anti-fraud app—if it turned out to be a crime family, that’d be some dark humor.
“There’s a private banquet at Jiayong Auction House on the 15th of this month,” Zhou said. “The investigation team will have a joint operation that night, needing patrol support. We’ll discuss the plan in tomorrow’s meeting. Just a heads-up for now. Alright, get off work and go chase.”
“Operation? Arrests?” Shi Wenze didn’t leave. He admitted honestly, “The person I’m chasing is invited to that banquet.”
Zhou was shocked. When did the enemy seduce you with beauty? Shi Wenze quickly explained, “He has nothing to do with the Jiayong Group.” He gave a quick rundown while Zhou ordered a file on Lin Su and scolded Shi Wenze for not reporting his love life sooner. But Shi Wenze felt unfair—it hadn’t even started. The chase was day one. And what was this auction house all about anyway? If it was suspicious, why would he go stirring trouble?
Lin Su’s files looked fine, but Zhou stressed over and over that this must stay secret. Shi Wenze nodded and asked, “Then let Xu You lead the patrol outside on the 15th? Since I have an invitation, I might as well blend in.”
“Fine.” Zhou waved his hand. “Go get yourself a suit. Now. You’re tall, so tailoring might take some time.”
The investigation team had recently bought a batch of clothes. The warehouse looked like a cosplay dressing room, with disguises for humans and monsters from all trades. The tailor on duty was a thief-fat—a chubby creature—who was dozing off. After being called multiple times, she finally found a suitable outfit for a private banquet.
Shi Wenze changed, then stood in front of the mirror with arms wide open. The tailor darted about, pinning and marking him. Time seemed to freeze. Only the ceiling fan above hummed steadily.
Fortunately, Lin Su was busy too, texting that he’d need a little longer and that Shi Wenze shouldn’t rush. Shi Wenze replied, but couldn’t help nudging, “Auntie, can you speed up a bit?”
The tailor pulled out the pins and pushed them back in—just a millimeter further this time. She slowly lectured the young man about how dangerous the investigation team’s work was and how cunning criminals could be. Even the tiniest mistake could trigger a major disaster. As she spoke, her movements slowed even more, showing a true craftsman’s spirit.
Shi Wenze sighed deeply and resignedly stood still. Just as the tailor finished logging everything, he tried to go change clothes—but the warehouse door was already locked. The clerk’s silent protest against overtime was clear: no overtime past quitting time, no burnout allowed!
The tailor suggested, “You can leave the jacket here, just wear the shirt and pants home. Come back tomorrow to change.”
Shi Wenze checked the time and realized going home would be too late. He couldn’t start chasing someone by showing up late on day one. So he grabbed the flowers from his office, jumped on his motorcycle, and sped toward Bailu Street.
Meanwhile, Lin Su finished adjusting the color on the last wall with the workers. He was satisfied but not completely. He tried to explain to the foreman, “I want this part to look a little more… messed up.”
Before becoming a foreman, the man had worked as a designer for several years. He never imagined, even after nearly twenty years since quitting, he’d hear the absurd client request of “make the logo bigger and smaller at the same time.” He didn’t understand what “messy color” meant.
Lin Su clarified, “Like a man after a divorce.”
The foreman suddenly related. “Yeah, that’s definitely messy.”
Lin Su asked, “Can you do that?”
The foreman recalled his own heartbreak and nodded seriously, “I can give it a try.”
Lin Su finally smiled in satisfaction. He sent a helper out to buy drinks and cigarettes and stretched his sore muscles as he headed downstairs. At the street’s end, someone was roaring in on a heavy motorcycle, the engine noise loud enough to turn heads on both sides of the street. Sunset, long street, handsome guy, roses—this was a proper cool idol drama scene!
Lin Su, wearing an apron splattered with paint, hadn’t tried to look pure or cute. He just hadn’t had time to clean up. But sometimes no plan was the best plan. Shi Wenze saw him working like this for the first time and stopped his motorcycle steadily, feeling his heart swell with affection.
But Lin Su was shocked—shocked that Shi Wenze was dressed way too formally. Shirt, dress pants, leather shoes, and what looked like a tie stuffed in his pocket. Sleeves rolled up, collar open, helmet on, and a huge motorcycle—it was less everyday handsome guy and more like the top villain rushing off the set of a 007 movie.
Even if you’re dating, you don’t have to dress like that.
Lin Su didn’t take the roses from Shi Wenze’s hand. He felt uneasy and forcibly pulled the collar tag from Shi Wenze’s shirt. The brand label spun dizzily in his eyes. Yesterday, Shi Wenze talked about saving money to buy a house. Today, he was rocking a full Armani suit—not even tailored right yet—and called it “having a plan for the future”?
Shi Wenze protested, “This suit’s not mine!”
Lin Su didn’t believe him. “If it’s not yours, whose is it? The tag’s still on.”
“The tag’s supposed to be there,” Shi Wenze got off his bike. “It’s from work. I have to return it when I’m done.”
Lin Su still didn’t get it. Of course, Shi Wenze’s vague explanation wouldn’t clear things up for anyone normal. So Lin Su’s misunderstanding went the other way—he wondered if it was really that hard to find a partner in Shi Wenze’s department, that the organization had to provide suits and ties to dress them up? But honestly, even after dressing up, he didn’t look any better. Sure enough, whether human or monster, government agency aesthetics were just as suffocating. One more glance from the public and you’d need healthcare.
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