Spoiled - Chapter 23

Author’s Note: They need a little running-in period (.). Little Fang will really like it later. It won’t be angst (I think).

Fu Feng’s answer was exactly what Fang Baijing had anticipated.

His eyes gradually adjusted to the sudden brightness, but the light spots in front of him flickered intermittently, making Fu Feng’s face appear somewhat blurry.

Fang Baijing subconsciously licked his lips and accidentally touched the small cut at the corner of his mouth, which Fu Feng had intentionally or unintentionally bitten just now.

Fu Feng shifted slightly, and Fang Baijing abruptly raised his hand, blocking the space between them. He was a little worried about what Fu Feng might do to him, and he instinctively leaned back, his back pressing seamlessly against the chair.

Fang Baijing was much calmer now. He started to speak: “Fu Feng—” His voice still carried a heavy nasal tone. When he spoke, it sounded less like anger and more like whining.

Fang Baijing was startled by his own voice. He tried to reclaim his usual tone, but perhaps because he had cried too much today, his voice had become mushy.

Fu Feng’s hand rested on the armrest of the swivel chair. With a slight push, Fang Baijing and the chair changed direction. The back of the chair was now against the edge of the desk.

Fu Feng stood in front of him, his expression inscrutable in the light. But Fang Baijing noticed that Fu Feng’s lips were tightly pursed, as if suppressing his emotions. The unmoving, mountain-like expression he usually wore finally showed a crack. Fang Baijing’s only thought was—Fu Feng could get angry too.

They were very close. Fu Feng only needed to lower his head to kiss Fang Baijing again.

He reached out and brushed away the stray hair stuck to Fang Baijing’s forehead, asking, “Why did you come over today?” Without waiting for Fang Baijing’s answer, Fu Feng answered his own question: “Is it because you heard I was getting married?” He asked slowly and methodically, “Who told you? Was it Fu Yan, or was it Li Ran?”

Fu Feng’s pupils were light, not a pure black, but still dark. His voice was low, sounding no different than usual, yet the way Fu Feng looked now was vastly different from his normal self.

Fang Baijing was stunned for a moment before realizing who “Fu Yan” in Fu Feng’s mouth was. Fu Feng’s tone was distant, calling his own father by his full name with an impassive face.

“…It was Li Ran,” Fang Baijing answered subconsciously. “She came to the set to find me.”

Fu Feng’s finger brushed against the corner of his eye, giving Fang Baijing a definitive answer: “I will not marry her.”

Fang Baijing’s eyes hurt, a stinging pain like needles.

Just ten minutes ago, he had yelled that he would never believe Fu Feng’s words again, but now that Fu Feng said this, he believed it.

But that wasn’t the main issue.

He shook his head slowly, still stubbornly saying, “I want to break up.”

Fu Feng’s palm cupped Fang Baijing’s face. His fingers tightened slightly, forcing Fang Baijing to look up. As if this made his words more convincing, Fu Feng stared into Fang Baijing’s eyes and said, “If it’s because of Mishu, I can say it was just a coincidence. I went to Xiao Jing’s birthday party simply because I wanted to see you. Him running into you was an accident. Fang Baijing.” Fu Feng spoke slowly, his brows slightly furrowed, his fingers cold. “If I hadn’t been there, that car really would have hit you.”

Fang Baijing still remembered the chilling feeling of glimpsing that car following him in the rearview mirror, which was why he called Fu Feng without a moment’s hesitation. He had indeed begged for Fu Feng’s protection.

If what Fu Feng said was true, then Fu Feng truly hadn’t done anything wrong from start to finish.

Fang Baijing raised his hand to wipe his face. After the impulsive anger passed, all that remained was a sense of helpless confusion.

But there was one thing Fang Baijing was certain of: he wanted to break up.

Fang Baijing didn’t want to admit it, but he had to: he seemed to like Fu Feng a little. Without Fang Baijing realizing it, and through gradual influence, he seemed to have grown accustomed to his relationship with Fu Feng, slowly accepting Fu Feng’s existence.

But they were just not compatible. Fang Baijing disliked being controlled. Ever since childhood, he did everything as he pleased. He quit playing the piano after more than ten years of lessons, despite his family’s pleas nearly wearing out his ears. He was adamant: “No, I want to study acting.”

In the end, his parents had no choice but to compromise, because even if they disagreed, Fang Baijing would still carry his luggage and go to study acting by himself.

But when he was with Fu Feng, Fu Feng’s need for control and dominance was too strong. He wanted to manage every little thing about Fang Baijing. If something was related to Fang Baijing, Fu Feng had to interfere. From small things like how late Fang Baijing stayed up at night to big things like the scripts sent to Fang Baijing, he had to manage it all.

Fang Baijing hated nothing more than being managed by others. He liked Fu Feng a little now, but not to this extent.

In other words, he and Fu Feng were fundamentally incompatible.

Based on gender, they were both men. Fang Baijing hadn’t prepared himself mentally for being gay, even though they had, in fact, been together for a long time. Furthermore, in terms of family background, his family was decent, but still couldn’t compare to true power and wealth. More importantly, his and Fu Feng’s personalities were mutually exclusive. Complementarity was good, but being too complementary was unsuitable.

Fang Baijing hadn’t acted in many romantic scenes, but he felt that incompatibilities between couples were usually due to these reasons. He had unconsciously classified himself and Fu Feng as a couple.

Fang Baijing felt this confused relationship with Fu Feng should end sooner rather than later, but when he spoke, under Fu Feng’s extremely oppressive gaze, he lacked confidence: “Let’s just… call it even. You helped me, and I let you… sleep with me for half a year. That should balance things out, right?”

Fu Feng suddenly straightened up and asked, “You really want to break up?”

Fang Baijing nodded hesitantly, saying softly, “We’re not suitable.”

“Fine.”

Fu Feng’s prompt agreement surprised Fang Baijing. But this was his goal, and the best way to handle it. Breaking up, a clean break. Their two lives had no overlap, and they might never see each other again.

Thinking of this, Fang Baijing felt like he had lived a dream—not a nightmare, not a beautiful dream, but one that shattered like foam in the blink of an eye. He didn’t know if this was the right thing to do.

Fang Baijing’s palms unconsciously clenched into fists, his knuckles white. He smiled at Fu Feng, his canine teeth unintentionally showing.

Fang Baijing forced a casual tone and said, “Fine.”

His mood should have been light, as if shedding a major burden, but strangely, he felt a rock pressed onto his heart, making his mood dip.

He felt Fu Feng’s gaze linger on his face for a long time, long enough for the smile on Fang Baijing’s face to stiffen, before Fu Feng finally spoke slowly: “Remember to take your things. Take them today.”

Fang Baijing was stunned for a moment, and his nose started stinging again.

Fu Feng had just said “don’t even think about breaking up,” but now he was telling him to hurry and take his things. He must really not want to see him. He and Fu Feng were probably truly over this time.

Fang Baijing lowered his head, his canine teeth biting his lip, which hurt a little. He said, “Okay, I’ll take them today.”

He meant he would come back later to get them, but Fu Feng called Uncle Wang: “Do it now. I’ll go back with you.”

Fang Baijing followed behind Fu Feng. His figure was slender. The loose hoodie he wore made him look like he might fall over with a gust of wind. Fu Feng’s back, however, was very different from his. No matter what, his back was always straight, and his broad shoulders always provided a great sense of security. He followed behind Fu Feng, silently staring at Fu Feng’s back for a while before looking away.

The drive back was also silent.

Uncle Wang was always observant. Seeing that both of them were speechless, he quietly turned on soft instrumental music in the car.

Back at the house, Fang Baijing went upstairs alone, pulling out his suitcase to pack his things. Without Fu Feng’s help, he resorted to his old method of packing: shoving everything into the suitcase, then kneeling on the box to press it down, struggling for ages to close it. When he stood up again, his knees hurt.

He had lived here for too long. One suitcase couldn’t hold everything, but Fang Baijing could only shoulder the suitcase and head downstairs.

The staircase spiraled; it wasn’t steep, but it had many steps. Fang Baijing looked down and saw Fu Feng standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching him coldly as he painstakingly carried the luggage down step by step.

At the last step, Fu Feng seemed unable to watch anymore and finally reached out to help Fang Baijing carry the suitcase down. His fingers rested on the pull handle, his expression as cold as the suitcase’s silver-gray surface.

Fu Feng asked, “Are you really going to leave?”

Fang Baijing’s breathing quickened. After a few deep breaths, he still said, “I am. There’s too much stuff; I can’t move it all. If you find it an eyesore, you can throw it away directly. If you’re too lazy to throw it away, have the housekeeper pack it up, and I’ll have Ji Weile come pick it up.”

Fu Feng gave him no response. His profile was as cold as the first time Fang Baijing saw him.

Fang Baijing simply took the suitcase from Fu Feng’s hand and walked toward the door. His fingers accidentally brushed against Fu Feng’s, and Fang Baijing found Fu Feng’s fingers were frighteningly cold.

The suitcase was too heavy. Fang Baijing struggled to drag it.

Just then, Fu Feng finally moved. He was like a petrified statue that suddenly came to life. His eyelashes fluttered, and the smart lock on the door suddenly dropped in front of Fang Baijing with a crisp click.

Fang Baijing’s eyes instantly became incredulous. He reached out and pushed the door, but the tightly shut door wouldn’t budge even with all his might.

He abruptly turned his head to look at Fu Feng, his mouth opening and closing in shock. Fang Baijing blurted out, “Fu Feng, are you fucking crazy?”

Clearly, he had been locked in here by Fu Feng, and he had no idea what the password was.

Fu Feng walked toward him step by step. He reached out and pulled Fang Baijing’s hand. When he didn’t smile, his features were even more stern. Fang Baijing was aggressively backed up against the door by him. Cold, ice-like fingers intertwined with his own. Fang Baijing was forced into a hand-clasp, his arms pinned behind his back like iron tongs.

“Fang Baijing, I’ve said it several times,” Fu Feng finally spoke. “Once you nod, you’re not allowed to regret it.”