September 9th
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09
The result was indeed a meal.
However, Song Bai Xia had expected Tingzong Shen to take him to some legendary little restaurant hidden in a dark alley, a place only the wealthy could find.
Unexpectedly, Tingzong Shen brought him straight home.
Not to the Shen family estate atop Mount Taiping, worth billions, but to a sprawling flat in Repulse Bay.
Housing in the harbor was scarce; what was called a thousand-square-foot luxury home typically measured just over ninety square meters. Tingzong Shen’s residence was a genuine mansion exceeding a thousand square meters.
A top-floor luxury apartment with the entire floor opened up. The interior was decorated mainly in black and white, accented with deep walnut hues. Pure black marble floor tiles were airlifted from Italy, each slab costing as much as a family’s worth of real estate per square foot.
At a glance, the space felt cold, austere, silent, powerful, and elegant.
It perfectly matched everyone’s definition and imagination of a domineering tycoon’s mansion.
Most strikingly, when they stepped out of the elevator, a white butler stood right there—
The classic British butler look: slicked-back hair flawlessly styled with gel, wearing a tailcoat, politely addressing Tingzong Shen in Portuguese, “The meal is ready. Please enjoy, sir and guest.”
As for how Song Bai Xia knew it was Portuguese, and how he understood it…
Of course, Tingzong Shen translated it for him. :)
The room was spotless, shining with an unapproachable brilliance built from wealth and manpower, worthy of a magazine feature.
The dining table was laden with a dazzling array of dishes, each bursting with color, aroma, and flavor. Beneath, thoughtful warming devices ensured every bite would be at its peak taste.
Curiously, the butler had placed a bouquet of roses right in the center of the table, beside a gilded candlestick with flickering flames.
A candlelit dinner?
Song Bai Xia’s gaze caught for a moment, then he deliberately looked away as if nothing had happened.
The sugar he had earlier was not enough to sustain him all night, especially now that the aroma of food stirred his appetite.
He looked at Tingzong Shen expectantly, waiting for him to speak so he could immediately sit down and feast.
He had already decided: first, a bowl of dried scallop, loofah, and chicken soup to warm his stomach, then...
Tingzong Shen handed him a cup.
Song Bai Xia accepted it without knowing what it was, only to find it was a beautiful crystal glass half-filled with hot milk.
?
Why suddenly this?
He took a tentative sip. The milk was slightly hot, fragrant and creamy with a hint of sugar, smooth as it slid down his throat. His chilled body immediately felt a warm surge.
Without pause, he finished half the glass.
Licking his lips, still craving more, he asked, “Is there more?”
Tingzong Shen said, “Half a glass is enough. Save your appetite for the meal. You got caught in the rain; go take a hot shower first.”
His arrangement was not only reasonable but sensible, clearly showing experience in taking care of others.
Song Bai Xia hesitated.
Taking a shower at someone else's home—especially at a big boss’s place—felt a little too relaxed.
“All your change of clothes is in the bathroom. Don’t stay too long; you might get hypoglycemic again,” Tingzong Shen said, glancing at him. “Finish quickly and come out for dinner.”
Song Bai Xia met Tingzong Shen’s eyes, unable to find any objection, and obediently went to shower.
—
Song Bai Xia took a quick, efficient shower, half-heartedly dried his hair, and hurriedly changed.
When under someone else’s roof, one cannot truly keep a powerful man waiting.
Outside, Tingzong Shen had already removed his suit jacket and sat on the sofa. Song Bai Xia called out, “Mr. Shen.”
Tingzong Shen looked up, and as he saw Song Bai Xia, his eyes shimmered slightly under the light.
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The butler’s clothes were a bit large on Song Bai Xia; the white shirt draped loosely over him, the collar revealing a pale, jade-like collarbone, sleeves long enough to cover the backs of his hands, leaving only his fingertips exposed.
He felt a bit awkward and rolled up the cuffs as he walked. When sitting down, he slightly raised the pant legs, revealing slender ankles wrapped in white cotton socks, like a treasured gem never exposed to sunlight—if held in the palm, they would feel as smooth as jade.
Smiling, he said to Tingzong Shen, “Good thing I had that half glass of milk, or after a hot shower, I’d be dizzy again. Mr. Shen, thank you very much for tonight.”
Tingzong Shen sat down at the table and smiled back. “No need to be so formal. Eat.”
Song Bai Xia was waiting for those words but politely ladled some chicken soup for Tingzong Shen first, then served himself. Cunningly, he scooped two large fish balls into his own bowl.
He had been craving them even while showering.
Taking a bite, the fish balls were fresh and bouncy; the happiness nearly brought tears to his eyes.
He savored the fish balls and soup, then, invigorated, eagerly reached for other dishes.
Perhaps his earnest eating prompted Tingzong Shen to ask, “Did you have a fight with Lian Sheng?”
Song Bai Xia, mid-bite of a large spoonful of veal pistachio risotto, quickly chewed and nodded with bright eyes.
Tingzong Shen chuckled, “Keep eating; I was just asking.”
Song Bai Xia finally swallowed and said, “No fight. Sheng had some business and left early.”
“Is that so?”
Song Bai Xia nodded firmly. “He’s very busy every day.”
Busy wooing Ning Qing while squeezing in time for him—it was truly exhausting.
His hair, still slightly damp from the shower, curled faintly at the ends. His bangs couldn’t quite conceal his beautiful eyes; his cheeks glowed like peeled lychees, translucent and rosy.
The white cotton fabric hugged his neck, his skin so pale it nearly dazzled, veins faintly visible in a pale blue.
Tingzong Shen said no more, lifting the bowl of chicken soup Song Bai Xia had served him.
Though somewhat cooled, the soup remained sweet and fresh. The roses on the table burned like fire, their fragrance rich, yet Tingzong Shen inexplicably caught a scent of sweet milk.
Or perhaps not milk.
Something more distant and more enticing.
—
After dinner, Song Bai Xia wanted nothing more than to collapse in his chair without regard for appearances.
He had no idea where Tingzong Shen’s butler had sourced the meal, or whether the wealthy had their own personal chefs. It was the first time since arriving that he had tasted food so to his liking.
He probably wouldn’t get another chance unless he truly married into the Shen family.
Looking fondly at the empty plates, he asked, “Do you have any plans later?”
Tingzong Shen had been in meetings for four hours and was scheduled for a multinational video conference at this time.
But he simply said, “No.”
Song Bai Xia smiled and stood. “Then wait for me a moment.”
Tingzong Shen watched as he left briskly, returning five minutes later with a bag.
“You treated me to dinner; I’ll make tea for you,” Song Bai Xia said bashfully. “I couldn’t find any good tea on such short notice, so I just had some sent over. I hope you don’t mind.”
Inside the bag were not only tea leaves but a full set of tea-making tools, which Song Bai Xia carefully arranged on the coffee table.
The table itself was designed by a master, a Red Dot Award winner, praised as a postmodern structure embracing freedom and disorder to return to simplicity.
To Song Bai Xia, it was just a black wooden stump.
Yet this black wooden stump was worth six figures, and surprisingly complemented his pristine white tea set.
The table was low, so Song Bai Xia knelt on the floor. Bowing his head, his slender neck and slightly protruding spine formed a single line downward, his butterfly bones delicate as they disappeared into his narrow waist.
After rinsing the tea three times, Song Bai Xia poured the hot water with a steady stream, the tea leaves floating like silver feathers, stirred by an unseen breeze. The warmed porcelain cup felt inviting in his hands, the aroma of the tea fragrant.
He rose and, crossing the table, handed the tea cup to Tingzong Shen with both hands, revealing a wrist as white as porcelain.
Tingzong Shen noticed Song Bai Xia’s fingertips were flushed from the heat but his hands were steady, never trembling once.
Tingzong Shen took the cup, sipped, and complimented, “Good tea.”
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Though he knew it was a polite remark, Song Bai Xia beamed. “This tea was a private stash from a friend. He refused to give it to me before, but after pleading for a long time today, he finally agreed.”
Tingzong Shen raised an eyebrow. “Not takeout?”
Song Bai Xia froze, then smiled sheepishly.
—Of course, he had meant to let that slip.
He had already decided during his shower to make tea for Tingzong Shen later.
It was both a way to express gratitude and to showcase his talents, winning some favor.
Tingzong Shen should be old enough now to appreciate tea, right?
Song Bai Xia wasn’t sure.
Because Tingzong Shen’s face was extraordinarily handsome—every feature precisely sculpted, as if crafted by a masterful 3D model, cold and sharp lines yet exuding mature masculine charm—the alpha among alphas.
Steady, stern. Gentle, elegant.
At first sight, one wouldn’t consider his age, only the overwhelming aura and breathtaking looks.
But even if any shops were open at this hour, what good tea could they have?
Song Bai Xia’s claim to have begged his friend was no exaggeration; the friend guarded the tea like a treasure. If not for Song Bai Xia’s desperate pleading, he never would have gotten any.
With such difficulty, if he didn’t reveal the effort to Tingzong Shen, how would he appreciate it?
Song Bai Xia, oh, Song Bai Xia, you are truly cunning. ^▽^
He gave himself a mental thumbs-up.
Tingzong Shen said, “Thank you for your trouble.”
Song Bai Xia’s eyes sparkled as he looked at him. “So, do you think I made it well?”
Tingzong Shen paused. “Very well.”
Joy and delight immediately filled Song Bai Xia’s beautiful eyes. With just that simple approval, he felt completely fulfilled.
Such trust and docility seemed to have no origin, like a rootless flower, yet so beautiful one could lose oneself willingly.
Tingzong Shen’s lips twitched but finally said, “Sit down. I’ll get something for you.”
The big boss had acknowledged his tea-making skills!
If he had a tail, Song Bai Xia would have wagged it proudly.
All that idling around practicing had paid off.
Indeed, learning never betrays oneself—once mastered, it will come in handy.
The sofa was soft. His knees ached from kneeling on the floor earlier, and now sitting, Song Bai Xia felt boneless, sinking back, unwilling to move.
He was so full... and having been praised, his mood was excellent...
Song Bai Xia was surprised to find that getting along with Tingzong Shen wasn’t so difficult. Though Shen didn’t speak much, he always responded when spoken to, offering positive feedback and showing consideration, handling everything meticulously.
If only Lian Sheng and Tingzong Shen could switch roles... Tingzong Shen surely wouldn’t toss him aside for true love. Perhaps they’d part amicably, with a multimillion-dollar breakup settlement...
—
When Tingzong Shen returned, he saw Song Bai Xia had fallen asleep on the sofa.
He was curled into a small ball, clutching a square pillow, buried in the softness of the sofa. He must be cold, curling inward, his face relaxed, eyes closed with long, thick lashes, utterly serene.
Tingzong Shen gazed at him a moment, then took a thin blanket and gently covered him.
The blanket was soft as clouds. In his sleep, Song Bai Xia grasped a corner, the pillow slipping to the floor. When Tingzong Shen bent to pick it up, Song Bai Xia stirred, turning toward him, arms open to embrace his waist, his face nuzzling against Tingzong Shen’s abdomen. Perhaps it was uncomfortable; he muttered something indistinct, then released him and sank back into the depths of the sofa.
Song Bai Xia lay with his back to him, half-covered by the blanket, the other half fallen aside. His waist and hips formed an exaggerated curve, as if naturally inviting a hand to grasp there—one gentle squeeze could easily bend his slender waist.
The room was always kept at a comfortable temperature, yet Tingzong Shen’s usually dry and cool palms suddenly broke into a sweat.
Turning away, his movements were far less composed than usual.