Spoiled - Chapter 4

The light in the bathroom was piercingly bright, black-and-white decor cold and stark. The red mark on Fu Feng’s face stood out sharply. He raised a hand to touch his cheek, expression completely unmoved, as if Fang Baijing had not hit him at all.

He did not speak, nor did he get lost as Fang Baijing demanded. He simply reached out and lifted Fang Baijing, who was still sitting on the washbasin.

Fang Baijing’s eye corners were red—whether from anger or sadness was unclear—but luckily no tears fell.

He heavily slapped Fu Feng’s hand away, expression cold: “Get lost, don’t touch me.”

The crisp slap sound echoed in his ears. Fu Feng stood before him and said: “I didn’t mean to bully you, nor am I keeping you.”

Fu Feng gripped his wrist, then interlaced their fingers below, holding tightly without the slightest gap.

He said: “We are dating.”

Fang Baijing tugged the corner of his mouth and gave a cold laugh. He knew he could not reason with Fu Feng. They had argued countless times over this issue—most times it was only him unilaterally losing his temper.

The faucet was still running; turbulent water struck the basin. Fu Feng reached out and tightly twisted the knob shut.

He lifted Fang Baijing’s hand and gently wiped his palm with a towel. Fu Feng’s tone carried slight bewilderment: “We are together, so I don’t like you having excessive contact with others. Is there a problem with that?”

Fang Baijing had hit him quite hard this time. Fu Feng pressed tongue against upper palate, lowered eyes, and continued staring at Fang Baijing: “By the same token, I won’t have physical contact with others either.”

Fang Baijing felt Fu Feng’s logic was pure sophistry. He was so angry he lost appetite for dinner and immediately turned to walk upstairs.

The villa had many rooms, but to force him to sleep together Fu Feng had locked the other rooms from inside, leaving only the master bedroom accessible.

Fang Baijing aggressively pulled the door open, then slammed it heavily shut; the door panel shook several times.

The bed was king-size, large enough to roll around on. Fang Baijing tore back the covers and lay down, buried his head under the blanket, and raised hand to cover his nose.

Fu Feng’s bed seemed to carry his exclusive scent—cold, unsatisfactory, trapping him like an inescapable net.

Fang Baijing began to feel suffocated. He violently pulled the blanket away to breathe.

He heard the door open behind him. Fang Baijing guessed Fu Feng had entered, so he lay back in bed and played dead.

Fang Baijing clutched the blanket tightly. A force from outside tugged the blanket slightly, then stopped, but he was still dug out of the covers by Fu Feng.

Fu Feng said: “Go eat.”

Fang Baijing roared: “I’m not hungry!”

Fu Feng sat by the bed a while and actually left.

Fang Baijing’s expression was disbelief—was Fu Feng finally going to starve him to death?

But after a while Fu Feng came back upstairs carrying a tray of food. He placed the tray on the nightstand and said concisely: “Eat.”

Relieved yet putting on airs, Fang Baijing refused to touch chopsticks no matter what. Fu Feng, accustomed to this, picked up chopsticks and was about to feed him.

In the end Fang Baijing ate the meal himself. His anger always came quickly and faded quickly.

But today was different. Fang Baijing constantly felt chest tightness and shortness of breath.

He had been with Fu Feng half a year. In fact, just as he had said, he did not think he and Fu Feng were dating. The relationship between them was strangely indescribable.

Only one thing was certain to Fang Baijing: he did not want to be carelessly entangled with Fu Feng like this—even though it had already been nearly half a year.

Fu Feng was always busy and spent evenings in the study, but when Fang Baijing came out after showering he found Fu Feng on the balcony.

Fang Baijing could only see Fu Feng’s back. The white shirt fit his shoulder line closely. In the night, Fu Feng’s distinct fingers held a cigarette.

Ash fell as it burned. Fang Baijing got closer and realized Fu Feng was on the phone. From afar Fang Baijing vaguely heard only the two words “female actress.”

Fang Baijing’s pupils contracted. He could not help blurting: “What are you trying to do?”

Fu Feng slightly turned head. His profile in darkness was perfectly curved. Fu Feng said something more to the phone before hanging up.

Fang Baijing pushed open the balcony door with a loud “huala—”

Fang Baijing bit his lip tightly and demanded: “Are you trying to do something again?”

Fu Feng spun a lighter in hand; its dark red flame flickered. He casually pressed the cigarette butt out on the balcony. Fang Baijing disliked smoke smell, so Fu Feng had only lit the cigarette to watch it burn, not taking a single puff.

He stood some distance from Fang Baijing, not directly answering. Instead he said with indifferent eyes: “You smiled very happily at a girl on set today.”

Fang Baijing had even complained to Ji Weile about this, saying Fu Feng would not control him to that extent, but now it seemed he had underestimated Fu Feng’s possessiveness.

Fang Baijing frowned. Once angered he spoke recklessly: “What’s wrong with smiling at her? Next time I’ll kiss her—can you control that?”

A gust of night wind suddenly blew across the balcony; leaves rustled.

Fu Feng walked forward several steps. He reached out and touched the tips of Fang Baijing’s hair, accidentally dampened by water. He asked slowly and evenly: “Why do you always try to make me angry?”

Fang Baijing’s afternoon lesson was wasted. His words were even sharper than Fu Feng’s: “Well, are you dead from anger yet?”

He indulged in momentary tongue satisfaction, but the next moment Fang Baijing was pinned against the back of the door by Fu Feng.

Fu Feng had not smoked, but the fingers pinching his chin carried a faint lingering tobacco scent.

“I’m unhappy,” Fu Feng said concisely. “You smiled at someone else.”

He gave Fang Baijing no chance to reply and kissed him again. Fu Feng always appeared in public as a lofty, icy figure—or bluntly, sexless.

At least that was what Fang Baijing thought when he first saw Fu Feng, but he realized—it was all illusion.

Every time Fu Feng kissed him it felt like kissing until he ran out of breath.

The reason Fang Baijing was so fearless before Fu Feng was because he knew Fu Feng would not seriously harm him; at most he would use this method, or be a bit rough in bed.

Fang Baijing could feel his fragile lip bitten until slight blood. He wanted to hit him again, but wrists were pinned together behind back by Fu Feng.

He heard Fu Feng’s voice: “Yangyang.”

“Baijing” meant “white sun/scene”; “Yangyang” was Fang Baijing’s pet name (“Sun-sun”). Fu Feng had picked up this nickname from somewhere and just liked calling him that.

Fang Baijing turned head, unwilling to answer or even look at him.

But Fang Baijing was still forced to turn head and meet gaze by Fu Feng’s pinch on chin. Fu Feng’s fingers smoothed over his lips, soothing the small wound on his mouth.

The next moment Fu Feng kissed him again without preamble.

In the end Fang Baijing’s legs were so weak Fu Feng had to help him into the room.

Fu Feng went to bathroom to shower. Fang Baijing was left alone in the room. Fu Feng’s phone placed nearby suddenly lit up. Fang Baijing only glanced casually at first, but his gaze suddenly froze.

—Fu Feng had someone investigate Chen Yun’s background information.

He picked up Fu Feng’s phone and unlocked it directly with his fingerprint. He was halfway scrolling when the sound of water in the bathroom abruptly stopped. Fu Feng walked out wearing a bathrobe.

Fu Feng said nothing upon seeing Fang Baijing using his phone; he only asked: “What’s wrong?”

Fang Baijing asked directly: “You had someone check Chen Yun’s background?”

“Mm.” Fu Feng nodded without guilt. Before Fang Baijing joined the crew he had already reviewed information of all actors in the same drama, but not as detailed as the report he now asked his assistant to check.

Fang Baijing was furious: “Why are you checking her?”

“I checked it for you.”

“I don’t need it!” Fang Baijing shouted. “I’ve said it a thousand times—stop controlling me! I’m just making a friend with her.”

Fu Feng said blandly: “Friends are divided into good and bad.”

In other words Fu Feng was checking if Chen Yun had someone behind her or approached Fang Baijing with ulterior motive.

The entertainment industry was too chaotic. Fu Feng’s initial thought was to make Fang Baijing quit the industry altogether, but at the time Fang Baijing cursed and cried so fiercely, looking so pitiful and miserable, that he had a rare moment of softheartedness.

Fang Baijing probably understood Fu Feng’s underlying meaning.

He sneered: “I’m not exactly clean myself, am I?” He stubbornly brought the topic back: “Didn’t you keep me too?”

Based on Fang Baijing’s family background—grandfather renowned national painter, father famous singer, mother former Movie Queen who retired and now taught at Central Academy of Drama.

Although it seemed unrelated to entertainment industry, at the very least he did not need to find a backer in this circle.

Fang Baijing’s grandfather had tried to stop him from entering the entertainment industry long ago. The old man was good at judging people and shook head saying: “Yangyang’s arrogance is too great; sooner or later he’ll cause trouble.”

Fang Baijing really did cause trouble, offending someone he could not afford to offend. The only one who could protect him was Fu Feng—the very same Fu Feng he had just moments ago scolded harshly.

Just like that, half a year had passed.

Fang Baijing still remembered the scene of his first meeting with Fu Feng.

The crew had just wrapped filming. Fu Feng attended the wrap party as investor. He sat at the head table, completely out of place with the toasts and socializing.

The main actors were gathered at one table. Fang Baijing arrived a bit late; the only empty seat was next to Fu Feng.

At that time he did not know who Fu Feng was, but he was the type who liked to tease everyone he met. The moment he pulled out the chair he even smiled at Fu Feng, eyes full of youthful spirit.

The wine table was round; there was large space between the two.

Fang Baijing was in good mood because filming wrapped; he frequently raised cup for toasts. As drinking progressed his eyes grew hazy with intoxication; cheeks turned rosy red, like color after the sun has faded.

He was drunk and already five parts tipsy, yet continued refilling his own cup.

The next time he raised cup, the smooth rim was suddenly covered by a hand. Fu Feng’s finger gently tapped the rim. He was the only person present who had not touched a drop of alcohol; his eyes were clear.

Dazed and disoriented, Fang Baijing heard Fu Feng say: “No more drinking.”

His voice was as cold as his demeanor. The dizzy Fang Baijing could not detect any hidden meaning in his words.