“You don’t feel right?” A sardonic smile was starting to curl Xingyu’s lips—nothing like the smile Weiran was familiar with. Nothing like the smile that he loved. “I was under the impression that you would do anything and everything to take down the List.”

Weiran had no idea what to say. Was this really Xingyu? He was so…callous. Weiran had thought there would at least be some discussion beforehand, but this was…

My father made me a monster.

No. Weiran was being dramatic. As he got dressed in another one of the suits Xingyu had manipulated from Liu Xiaokai’s closet, he tried to remove the idea from his head entirely. Just because Xingyu was driven didn’t mean that he was really a monster. It didn’t mean he was anything like Liu Baiyan.

In any case, Xingyu wasn’t here to quell any of his worries; he had successfully gotten into Liu Baiyan’s favor, or at least had begun to. While Weiran was preparing for this second meeting, Xingyu was with that man again, preparing to become what he had tried so hard to escape. Weiran was going to have to figure out how to put aside his fears and just get this done.

There was a different person this time inside the VIP room—a man, older, with a black medical mask and sharp eyes. Weiran gave him a short nod—Xingyu drilled into him there was to be no bowing here; he was Liu Xingyu, a fu’erdai; bowing wasn’t an option. “How can I help you today?”

Liu Xingyu didn’t bother sitting down this time. He leaned his weight onto one leg and rested his hand on the back of the chair. “I need someone to spend my time with,” he said. “A man. Tonight.”

The man met his gaze and titled his head. “How old?”

“Twenties or thirties, but I’m not picky.” His grip tightened around the chair, hopefully not noticeably. “A bottom.”

“Very well. I understand this isn’t the first time you’ve done this.”

“No. I had an appointment the other day.”

“Fine. Go to the same hotel, room five-five-nine. Understand?”

“Five-five-nine,” Liu Xingyu repeated. “I check in with the same name?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.”

The man in the mask watched Liu Xingyu move out of the room, neither of them offering another word—their interaction was purely and simply transactional.

But perhaps…

Beneath the mask, the man’s lips curved into a smile. “Liu Xingyu,” he said softly. “Interesting.” And he dug into his pocket for his cell phone.

NOTES ON THIS client: