You’re the perfect tool, Xiaokai. You’ll never get pregnant. They can use you as much as they want.

He pressed his face into his hands.

He didn’t know if he could do this.

Pretending he was okay was one thing. Pretending that the men who touched him and fucked him weren’t disgusting him, that they didn’t make him daydream about picking up a knife from the kitchen and digging it into their chests—that was all one thing. He could swallow his disgust for long enough. He could swallow his sadness, his depression, his loneliness for the duration of the appointment. Afterward, in the solitude of his room or his office after Meimei had already gone home, he had all the time he needed to either process what happened or press it all down until he couldn’t feel it anymore.

But he was never afraid of them. That was the problem.

He’d never been betrayed by them.

And he knew that he hadn’t been betrayed by Bai Xue, not in any way that he could reasonably explain to anyone without sounding like a fool—it was Xiaokai who had set all these expectations on him, who had made him into this perfect man just because he was kind, who had dreamed of running away from him. None of those expectations had been Bai Xue’s fault. He had been a monster all along—Xiaokai had just not seen it. But it felt like betrayal nonetheless.

He was afraid of him, he felt betrayed by him, and now he had to act like everything was normal.

So, no. Pretending to be okay was one thing, pretending not to be terrified was another.

He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, pressing until he saw spots.

“Ah. Xiaokai.”

He froze. A hand fell onto his shoulder and he flinched, on instinct, away from it.

Bai Xue was in front of him.

He just looked like Bai Xue. He looked like the Bai Xue Xiaokai had had in every one of their appointments; he looked like the Bai Xue who held him so gently; he looked like the Bai Xue who brought him food so he could talk with him instead of using their entire appointment for sex; he looked like the Bai Xue who had strapped Xiaokai to a chair, who had kicked at his ribs until he couldn’t breathe, who had yanked at his hair and thrown him across the room and—

“Are you nervous?”

His voice was gentle.

Xiaokai wanted to throw up.

“It’s been a while,” Bai Xue said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you last week. It’s been very busy.”

Xiaokai could only stare at his hands, his eyes wide, his body trembling as if he’d been caught outside in a snowstorm.

“I heard about your father. I’m sorry for your loss.”