Spoiled - Chapter 42

Author’s Note: The main story concludes here. Any unresolved matters will be addressed in the extras.

As soon as Fang Baijing stepped out, he saw the familiar car. He pulled the door open and slid inside, realizing that Uncle Wang was not there.

It was early spring, and Fu Feng was only wearing a black dress shirt. He had rolled the cuffs up to his elbows, revealing strong, handsome lines on his forearms.

Fang Baijing skillfully scooted closer to Fu Feng, suppressing a laugh as he asked, “Are you angry?”

Fu Feng lowered his gaze and said, “I’m alright.”

“Alright” meant he was indeed angry.

Fang Baijing knelt on one knee on the seat and propped the other leg on the floor. He bent down and cupped Fu Feng’s chin, asking, “Then should I coax you?”

Fu Feng’s pupils were slightly gray. He met Fang Baijing’s gaze, his eyes sweeping across Fang Baijing’s deep double eyelids, over his straight nose bridge, and finally stopping at his lips.

He gave a mild “Mm.” While his expression remained placid, his Adam’s apple subtly bobbed. He asked, “How will you coax me?”

Fang Baijing lowered his head and kissed Fu Feng’s lips. He was bent over, making him taller than Fu Feng by half a head. He couldn’t contain his smile, and his laughter escaped his mouth as he countered, “Is that enough coaxing?”

Fang Baijing was wearing lipstick, and it inevitably transferred to Fu Feng’s thin lips after the kiss. Fang Baijing raised his hand and gently rubbed Fu Feng’s lips, wiping away the trace of lipstick. Before he could fully stand straight, Fu Feng pulled him, and Fang Baijing tumbled onto his lap. Since he was quite tall and was now sitting on Fu Feng’s legs, he still had to bend slightly to keep his head from hitting the car roof.

Fu Feng’s gaze drew closer. He said, “Not enough.”

Since Fang Baijing’s offering wasn’t enough, he would take what he wanted himself. Fu Feng was very jealous, and his kissing was fiercer because of it.

Fang Baijing involuntarily tried to pull back, but the arm around his waist was like an iron clamp. In the confined space of the car’s back seat, Fang Baijing had nowhere to retreat. His lipstick was thoroughly kissed away. Fang Baijing’s hands gripped Fu Feng’s shoulders as he weakly gasped for air.

“I have a scene to shoot later!” Fang Baijing’s voice was annoyed, tinged with complaint. “You definitely made my lips swell!”

Fu Feng’s finger pressed against Fang Baijing’s lips and said, “My mistake.” His tone was quite sincere, but Fang Baijing knew Fu Feng would do it again next time. Fang Baijing lowered his head and retaliated by nibbling Fu Feng’s lips.

Fang Baijing was still wearing the school uniform—the generic Chinese style, not as good-looking as their old high school uniform. Fu Feng pulled up the zipper for him, then smoothed out the collar of his jacket: “I’ll pick you up tonight.”

Fang Baijing asked Fu Feng to check his lips: “Do I look like I’ve been kissed?”

Fu Feng lowered his eyes and looked for a moment: “A little.”

“Then what do I do!” Fang Baijing became anxious. “It’s all your fault!”

“Mm, it’s my fault.” Fu Feng was actually being careful. He studied his lips closely for a while, intertwined his fingers with Fang Baijing’s, and said, “It’s not very swollen. Just sit here with me a little longer.”

Since Fang Baijing’s scene was still a while away, he simply lay down on the back seat, resting his head on Fu Feng’s thigh. When he checked his phone again, he noticed the trending topic about him and Ning Ning was gone.

Fang Baijing looked up and asked, “Did you take down the hot search?”

“Mm,” Fu Feng played with Fang Baijing’s fingers. “You should still clarify it.”

Fang Baijing hummed in agreement. He sent messages to Ning Ning and the others, then decisively posted the group photo they took last night on Weibo. The paparazzi probably thought they would capitalize on the gossip to promote the drama and wouldn’t bother to clarify, which was why they dared to openly fabricate the story.

Once Fang Baijing and his group posted their update, the marketing accounts that had been heavily criticized quietly deleted their original Weibo posts one by one.

Fang Baijing’s character eventually had scenes abroad for studying, so the crew naturally had to go overseas for location shooting.

The night before he left, Fu Feng was exceptionally reluctant to let him go, even while in bed.

“Will you miss me?” Fu Feng’s voice was low and hoarse, forcing Fang Baijing to answer.

“…Yes,” Fang Baijing was already teary and forced to respond. “I’ll miss you.”

“Fang Baijing, say ‘I like you,’ okay?”

He was now in a state of disorientation, his fingers curled up, his knuckles red. Fang Baijing mumbled a sound from his throat in a daze: “Like you.”

“Yangyang, who do you like?”

Fang Baijing blinked, and a tear slid down his cheek. He felt Fu Feng lick it away. He embraced Fu Feng’s shoulder, his arm trembling. Fang Baijing’s voice was even softer than when he cried: “I like… I like… Fu Feng.”

“Mm,” Fu Feng’s fingers pinched Fang Baijing’s earlobe. “I love you.”

The next day, Fang Baijing dragged his luggage and boarded the plane. The crew booked him a first-class seat. As soon as he sat down, Fang Baijing put on an eye mask and slept soundly. The turbulence of the flight didn’t wake him up.

He was softly woken by a flight attendant. Fang Baijing took off his eye mask, squinting slightly as his eyes adjusted to the light. His eyes were still a little swollen. He rubbed them.

Fang Baijing had never been to Country A. He was still quite sleepy, so he put on his hat and mask and took the crew’s car straight to the hotel.

There was only a two-hour time difference between Country A and China, but perhaps because Fang Baijing slept too long during the day, he still couldn’t adjust. Hesitantly, he called Fu Feng. F

u Feng was still awake and answered gently, “Yangyang, what’s wrong?”

Fang Baijing pursed his lips and said, “I can’t sleep.”

He heard a rustling sound from Fu Feng’s end, probably him tossing the blanket aside. Fu Feng got up and asked in a tone meant for coaxing a child, “Shall I tell you a story?”

Fang Baijing froze, then curved his lips and got into a comfortable position to sleep: “Okay.”

Fu Feng’s voice was pleasant, and his reading was clear and distinct. Whether it was Fu Feng’s voice that was truly effective or simply his natural time to fall asleep, Fang Baijing’s eyelids began to droop. He usually slept next to Fu Feng. In his sleep, Fang Baijing instinctively moved toward the space next to him, but feeling no familiar warm embrace, he could only pout and hug the blanket tightly.

“Fu Feng,” Fang Baijing murmured. “…Can you come here and keep me company?”

He spoke in his sleep, but the next day, Fang Baijing stopped dead when he saw the man waiting outside his hotel room door. Fu Feng had a small suitcase beside him.

Fang Baijing didn’t know how long he had been waiting. He instinctively ran over and jumped straight into Fu Feng’s arms. His voice became unconsciously sticky: “Why did you come here?”

Fu Feng held Fang Baijing with one arm and used the other to fish out the room key from Fang Baijing’s pocket and swipe it. As he used his knee to push the suitcase inside, he said, “Because you missed me.”

Because you missed me, I came.

Fang Baijing vaguely recalled what he had said. He clung to Fu Feng’s body and kissed him, saying, “How can you be so good?”

Fu Feng could only stay with him for a few nights. On those nights, being held by Fu Feng while sleeping, Fang Baijing slept exceptionally soundly. He was scheduled to stay in Country A for a month. Fu Feng had company business and couldn’t be with him constantly, only flying over for a few days during his rare moments of free time.

When Fang Baijing finished filming in Country A, he was taken out for a farewell meal.

He was heading home, and Fang Baijing was in a good mood. He hadn’t had alcohol in a long time and couldn’t resist drinking a little too much. After accidentally getting drunk, Ji Weile helped him back to the hotel. Fang Baijing couldn’t walk straight, stumbling and leaning against the wall. His steps staggered, and he bumped into the man waiting by the door.

Fu Feng’s fingers rested on the back of Fang Baijing’s neck. He looked up at Ji Weile, his tone displeased: “He drank?”

“…Mm,” Ji Weile rubbed his nose while backing away. “He had a little.”

After Ji Weile left, Fu Feng helped the “drunk shrimp” Fang Baijing into the room.

The intoxicated Fang Baijing seemed to recognize who he was and clung to him like he had no bones. Fang Baijing lunged at Fu Feng and rubbed against his neck. The alcohol had emboldened him, and he said everything he normally wouldn’t. “Fu Feng… I really like you.”

He smelled of alcohol and tried to kiss Fu Feng’s face. As he kissed, he tried to reach Fu Feng’s lips, but Fang Baijing suddenly realized something. He stopped, covered his own mouth, and widened his eyes with vigilance: “I can’t kiss you. You’re allergic to alcohol.”

In the end, he kissed him anyway, and it wasn’t just kissing. Fang Baijing was terribly clingy. After drinking, his whole body was flushed, and the tears at the corners of his eyes were especially plentiful.

Tears are already cheap, and Fang Baijing shed them even more heavily. He hugged Fu Feng while kissing him randomly, all while murmuring, “Like you,” “Really like you,” and “Kiss, kiss.”

The little drunkard was too cute, and Fu Feng couldn’t bear to scold him.

Fang Baijing buried his head in Fu Feng’s embrace. His voice was muffled and indistinct as he asked in a thick tone, “Fu Feng, this is Country A. Shall we go get married tomorrow, okay?”

“What did you say?” Fu Feng started to doubt his hearing. “Say it again?”

“I said!” Fang Baijing straightened up, pushing Fu Feng’s shoulder as he enunciated each word, “Let’s go get married!” He wrinkled his nose: “You don’t want to marry me?”

Fu Feng seemed stunned. Seeing Fang Baijing turn away in apparent anger, he hugged Fang Baijing from behind, suppressing his excitement. His voice was trembling: “I want to. There’s no way I don’t want to.”

When Fang Baijing woke up the next day, his temples were throbbing fiercely.

“You’re awake?” Fu Feng was opening the window to smoke. Seeing Fang Baijing wake up, he put out the cigarette in the ashtray nearby.

Fang Baijing blinked blankly: “I’m awake.”

Fu Feng’s hand still carried a faint scent of smoke. He sat on Fang Baijing’s bedside and asked softly, “Do you remember what you said last night?”

“I said—” Fang Baijing asked subconsciously. As his memory returned, he widened his eyes: “I said I want to marry you?!”

“Mm,” Fu Feng stared at him intently. “Are you backing out?”

“…” Fang Baijing paused in brief contemplation, then said resolutely: “No.”

Fu Feng asked, “Then, shall we get married?”

“…” Fang Baijing fell silent again. Drunk words are honest thoughts; he might have accidentally revealed his deepest desire. H

e averted his gaze, his ears getting redder as his voice grew louder: “Marry! Marry! Marry!”

Fu Feng’s kiss descended again. He sat on Fang Baijing’s bedside, lowered his head, and kissed him while stroking the back of Fang Baijing’s neck. Fang Baijing was forced to tilt his head back. The curtains behind Fu Feng were not drawn, and the window was open. He could see the sky outside, cloudless, and blue like a transparent mirror. It was a beautiful day, and every day would be beautiful from now on—every day spent with Fu Feng.

The sun shone high, but Fu Feng had his own little sun.