Shen Shuangjian was not good with words. Xie Jinghui was a man of few words, and he could only be even more taciturn.
Having inadvertently entered the other man's private space, Shen Shuangjian felt somewhat apologetic. He turned to leave, only to look up and encounter an unexpected visitor in the flower-covered walkway he had come through.
"Uncle."
The walkway was not narrow, but there was only one way in and out. With the other man approaching, Shen Shuangjian would inevitably have to meet him head-on to leave.
That would not really have mattered, except that the other man happened to be the young heir with whom he had "a deep-seated grudge."
Xie Qingchi.
The Xie Family was a wealthy, prominent clan, its legacy passed down through generations of marriage alliances. None of the parents had ever been unattractive, so the younger members of the Xie Family were mostly blessed with exceptional looks as well.
It was precisely that face that had allowed Xie Qingchi to stand out online and build up considerable fame.
Xie Qingchi had a rakish beauty-not rakish in the sense of loose morals, but the air of a dashing young gentleman in a troubled world.
He did bear some resemblance to Xie Jinghui, but compared with his uncle's quiet reserve, his good looks were more carefree and unrestrained.
Peach-blossom eyes, thin lips, an uninhibited air about his brows, and a touch of lofty, aristocratic pride.
To use the description commonly found online, he could look at a dog with deep affection, yet looked at everyone as though they were dogs.
Born into wealth and privilege, the future head of the Xie Family, the only suitable member of his generation, and so extraordinarily handsome-somehow, it seemed perfectly reasonable for Xie Qingchi to have such an explosive temper.
Xie Qingchi stopped more than ten paces away from him. His gaze never shifted, fixed on Shen Shuangjian almost without blinking.
Shen Shuangjian pressed his lips together slightly and lowered his eyes, wary that, given Xie Qingchi's temperament, he might actually get physical with him during filming.
Across his two lifetimes, Shen Shuangjian had scarcely ever argued with anyone, let alone gotten into a fight.
He was physically frail and solitary by nature. In his previous life, apart from a few friends he could just about talk to, no one had ever entered his life.
At an age when his peers drank and horsed around together, even those around him who took him home had to stop at the boundaries observed by strangers.
"You..."
Xie Qingchi's footsteps halted. Within his field of vision, the beauty approaching from afar seemed unwilling to spare him so much as an extra glance.
Without looking aside, pausing, or offering a greeting, he simply passed him in silence.
A light, pleasant fragrance carried a faint scent of roses. Gently swaying hair brushed across the back of his hand, and the ticklish sensation shot up his arm and into his heart.
Xie Qingchi had been pampered since childhood. Whether within his social circle or outside it, everyone treated him with deference because of the Xie Family, because of his uncle.
Even those who did not know him, those who secretly looked down on him, and those with the loftiest pride all had to lower their heads and greet him when they met.
Even on a racetrack, pushing his speed to the limit, his racing heartbeat and surging adrenaline probably could not have matched this moment.
He turned around in a daze, his gaze falling on Shen Shuangjian's slender back. A cinnabar-red cord lay half-hidden in his loosely tied hair, tracing out his waist bit by bit along with the thick black strands.
"Qingchi."
His uncle's casual voice called his wandering thoughts back.
Xie Qingchi quietly lowered his head and covered his reddening ear with one hand. He did not even know whether he was imagining it, but he felt as though his heartbeat filled his ears.
"Uncle."
Even Xie Qingchi's walk was much more subdued this time. He entered the garden and sat on the bench beside Xie Jinghui. The distance between them was neither close nor far, and neither could make out the other's expression.
"That man just now... who is he to you, Uncle? Do you know him? What's his name?"
Xie Qingchi gazed at the long-empty walkway, a dreamy look entering his eyes-the lingering, graceful beauty left with him by a stranger he had never met.
"I know, and yet I don't."
Xie Jinghui gave a vague answer. He slowly lowered his head, his fingertip brushing the gold-stamped detailing on the original-language book.
"He said he came looking for a key. I've thought about it a great deal, but I don't know what key he wants."
This answer that was hardly an answer was disjointed and muddled, but Xie Qingchi did not care in the slightest. He picked out the words that seemed important and carried on by himself.
"Is he on the production crew? Or a guest on the show? Why don't I know him? But I think perhaps I know what key he's looking for."
Another brief silence followed.
After a long while, the silent uncle and nephew turned toward the flower-covered walkway stirred by the breeze, in almost identical poses and at almost identical angles.
Finally, they sighed softly.
Shen Shuangjian had spent rather too long there. By the time he came out, Gu Xuanlin had not only found the key on the high shelf, but had even found another nearby in much the same way.
"Perfect timing. While I was waiting for you to finish resting, I found two keys."
Wearing a courteous smile, Gu Xuanlin held out the two moderately sized bronze-colored keys in his palm to Shen Shuangjian.
"Here."
Shen Shuangjian had contributed nothing, and naturally was not thick-skinned enough to enjoy the fruits of someone else's labor.
He shook his head and was about to refuse when Gu Xuanlin suddenly took his hand and placed both keys in his palm, allowing no room for refusal.
"It's your first time on a show. Of course I should look after you a little more."
Gu Xuanlin's hands were larger-boned than Shen Shuangjian's. As he held Shen Shuangjian's hand, his fingertips almost covered it, forcing Shen Shuangjian's fingers to close around the keys.
His fine brows drew together slightly. Shen Shuangjian instinctively pulled his hand away, averse and unaccustomed to physical contact with others.
"Just call me Xuanlin, or Brother Lin if you like. It feels a little closer."
Gu Xuanlin instantly released his hand and shifted the subject from the keys to forms of address before Shen Shuangjian could voice a refusal.
He was good at reading people and attentive to details, so he naturally noticed the little traces of displeasure and resistance Shen Shuangjian had hidden.
He thought he probably knew what sort of person Shen Shuangjian was now.
Compared with someone like him, so high-minded on the surface and so impeccably proper by worldly standards, someone like Shen Shuangjian was much easier to understand.
Only by staying within his boundaries could he avoid provoking his resistance.
Someone who seemed aloof and cold by nature, yet was extremely easy to control and manipulate.
For the past thirty years, Gu Xuanlin's ideal type had always been someone naturally cheerful, optimistic, and warm, regardless of gender or appearance.
He had always believed that someone like him, thoroughly steeped in fame and fortune, needed an utterly pure lover who would take the initiative to approach him without any ulterior purpose.
Yet today, he suddenly understood another truth he had known all along.
Before someone who dazzled at first sight, an ideal type was nothing more than a joke that could be overturned at any moment.