Hate The Bright Moon Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chen Shilü had momentarily lost all sensation and memory. He didn’t know if he had fallen asleep from exhaustion or if he had completely blacked out in that instant.

As his consciousness slowly returned, he gradually remembered where he was and who he was with. His eyelids fluttered open.

It was still that dimly lit storefront. The bedside lamp was now on. Chi Huang was right in front of him, propped up on his side, supporting his head. The moment their eyes met, he smiled at Chen Shilü.

“Are you okay?”

Chen Shilü didn’t answer. He was taking in his surroundings. His body seemed to have been cleaned up, and he was properly covered by a blanket. Under the blanket, one of Chi Huang’s arms was still resting on his waist.

He cleared his throat, his voice a little hoarse: “What time is it?”

“It’s almost nine. It’s dark outside. Do you want to keep sleeping, or are you hungry for something to eat?” Chi Huang pulled his hand out from under the blanket and gently stroked Chen Shilü’s cheek.

“No, I should go home.”

Chen Shilü threw off the blanket. Standing up too quickly, his legs suddenly gave out and he nearly fell. Fortunately, Chi Huang was quick to catch him: “Careful.”

Chen Shilü didn’t even have the energy to be angry at Chi Huang, this jerk who was only gentle with his words but utterly ruthless with his actions. He silently put on his clothes, carefully checked his belongings to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind, and then decisively left the room.

Chi Huang pulled on his clothes and followed him out.

The rain had stopped at some point, and everything was damp. Water was still dripping from the eaves. Chen Shilü stood under the overhang, scrolling through the ride-hailing app on his phone.

“Are you really not staying the night? It’s dark and the roads are slick. And you have the day off tomorrow, don’t you?”

Chi Huang casually put an arm around Chen Shilü’s waist. The man’s waist was flexible and strong, with defined muscles beneath the skin. Honestly, he was much more exciting than Chi Huang had imagined. It had been a long time since things were this stimulating, and Chi Huang was still a little immersed in the aftermath.

Chen Shilü didn’t resist the physical contact, continuing to look at his phone, but he had no intention of staying: “I’m not used to sleeping with other people.”

“Hey… you were sleeping quite soundly just now.”

Chen Shilü ignored him.

Seeing that he was determined to leave, Chi Huang offered, “I’ll drive you? It’s hard to get a taxi here.”

“No need.”

Chi Huang didn’t insist, accompanying Chen Shilü while he waited. Because the location was remote and it had rained, Chen Shilü raised the price several times, but after waiting for fifteen minutes, no one accepted the order. Just as he was regretting once again not driving out today, Chi Huang made a decision for him.

“I’ll take you after all.” With that, he pulled up the rolling door of the adjacent storefront.

Following the clattering sound, Chen Shilü looked inside. The setup of this shop was even simpler: four motorcycles were parked there, and one was placed upside down for modification, surrounded by parts and tools. The walls were covered with motorcycle helmets.

Chi Huang pushed one out, stopped it in front of Chen Shilü, and handed him a helmet.

Chen Shilü didn’t take it.

“Don’t worry, I’m a good rider. I’ll go slow.” He straddled the bike and started the engine.

Waiting any longer wasn’t an option, so Chen Shilü reluctantly took the helmet, climbed onto the back seat of the motorcycle, and wrapped his arms around Chi Huang’s waist.

Chi Huang was fast, but he rode steadily. He would stop at certain red lights that he could have easily blown through, waiting for the light to turn green.

The damp, cool wind blew against Chen Shilü’s exposed skin. It wasn’t cold, but it was a chilling sensation. He pushed up the visor of his helmet. The post-rain city was filled with a crisp, clean scent of washed-away dust—a side of the city’s night he was unfamiliar with.

He couldn’t recall the last time he rode a motorcycle. He must have, but he couldn’t remember the feeling at all. He only felt the bike speeding through the streets, nimble as a cat, constantly overtaking the cars ahead. The headlights left streaks of afterimages in the corner of his vision.

The wet road surface reflected shimmering water. Puddles by the roadside mirrored the streetlights, sparkling like a starry sky. Chi Huang’s wheels drove over them, shattering these small patches of starlight, and the splashing water droplets vanished into light.

The glare of the headlights made his eyes ache, and Chen Shilü’s mind became hazy. It felt as though he was being crushed like the puddles under the wheels, or perhaps unable to keep up with the speed of movement, his consciousness scattering with the wind, weightless and disoriented.

He looked up. Perhaps because of the helmet, the tall buildings on both sides of the road seemed to stretch endlessly. The light spilling from the windows flickered, turning into blurred halos that quickly disappeared, cascading down like a waterfall, or fleeting like shooting stars.

His eyelids felt warm, almost tearful, and his head was muddled and throbbing. He leaned against Chi Huang’s back and closed his eyes.

How the bike stopped outside his Residential Complex, how he got off, and how he went upstairs—it was all a blur. He only remembered being extremely tired. He collapsed onto his bed as soon as he got home, feeling drunk, his mind still chaotic. When he closed his eyes, colorful starlight flashed, making it hard to distinguish reality from dreams.

Whether it was fast or slow seemed irrelevant, like the unfolding of a dream.

He had a night of deep sleep, like sinking to the bottom of the sea. When the afternoon sun hit his face, Chen Shilü suddenly woke up, gasping for air. He bolted upright in bed, realized he was in his own home, sighed in relief, and lay back down.

The side effects of yesterday’s excessive exertion began to show. His back ached, his body was fatigued, but because he had slept so well, his mind was clear.

Because his mind was clear, a question he had been too preoccupied to notice yesterday suddenly surfaced: Was Chi Huang as clean as he appeared?

Considering the unsolicited kiss at the Bar, taking someone home on the first date, getting straight to the point without any preamble, the pile of what looked like wholesale condoms in the bedside drawer, and the endless demands—an image of a frivolous, casual man, obsessed with sex, and highly suspected of having an addiction, immediately sprang to mind.

And he was so good-looking, skilled at flirting and seduction, and very proactive; he surely had many partners. Although they had used protection the entire time, Chen Shilü couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry. He immediately flipped out of bed, quickly washed up, and left the house, driving straight to the hospital.

After taking the preventative medication in time, Chen Shilü sat in the waiting room with a stack of test forms, queuing for a blood draw.

It wasn’t that he regretted it, but he felt like he had been momentarily bewitched. This was very unlike him.

Intimate relationships were certainly worth enjoying, but everything had to be predicated on safety. If it came at the cost of health, it wasn’t worth it. Although he wasn’t strictly monogamous, both Fu Lei and Bai Shengguang were the same type as him—they enjoyed life but didn’t take risks. They had physical ethics, were responsible for themselves and their partners, and carefully selected their dates, getting to know each other before things progressed. This was a relationship more intimate than friendship, but with less responsibility than a partnership.

The moment the needle pierced his vein, Chen Shilü involuntarily hissed and turned his head away.

A thought suddenly popped into his mind: Chi Huang was not suitable for him, even if it was just for sex.

That man was dangerous, in every sense of the word.

—

“Chi Huang! Chi Huang!” Jiang Chao pounded on the door for a long time before finally getting him to come out.

Chi Huang stood in the doorway, looking sleepy, scratching his neck as he asked, “What do you want?”

“What do I want? Don’t you know? The live stream sales we promised Director Luo—hurry up and get ready to go.”

“It doesn’t start until seven tonight. It’s still early. I’m going back to sleep.” He yawned widely, trying to retreat back inside.

Jiang Chao grabbed his arm: “It’s past five in the afternoon, and you’re telling me it’s early?”

Chi Huang hadn’t realized the time. His eyes cleared up a bit: “Oh, well, let me order some takeout first.”

“There’s no time for you to slowly eat takeout. Put on your clothes and come with me.”

Sitting in Jiang Chao’s rattling old Jeep, he tossed two hamburgers to Chi Huang: “Eat these for now.” While Chi Huang was busy chewing and couldn’t talk, Jiang Chao started nagging, “When are you going to get your act together, kid? You still think you’re a teenager? If I hadn’t come to wake you up, you’d have slept right through it. Do you know how much trouble that would cause?”

“If you hadn’t forced me to lift weights until midnight last night, I would have been up before two this afternoon,” Chi Huang retorted between bites of the hamburger. “Got any cola?”

Jiang Chao handed him a cola: “Do a good job on the live stream tonight. Try your best to help them sell all those stockings.”

Washing down the last bite of the hamburger with the cola, Chi Huang asked, “How do I do a good job? I’ve never done this before.”

He hadn’t done it, and neither had Jiang Chao, so he couldn’t offer technical guidance. He could only say, “There’s a first time for everything. Since Director Luo chose you, it means you must have some talent.”

This made Chi Huang laugh: “I just found out my talent is selling stockings.”

“Don’t give me that flippant attitude. Director Luo is a sponsor I worked hard to find. The life and death of our racing team depend on these stockings tonight. If you mess this up, I won’t be nice to you.” Jiang Chao was getting worked up. Knowing Chi Huang wasn’t serious about anything, he issued a strict order, “The team is in this situation entirely thanks to you, so you need to take responsibility.”

Chi Huang was impervious to Jiang Chao’s threats and incentives: “Why don’t you just kick me off the team and keep Qin Pingchuan? From every perspective, the team needs him more, right?” He impatiently picked at his ear. “I’d rather be kicked out than sell stockings.”

“You…” Jiang Chao slammed the steering wheel in frustration. “If you were my son, I’d definitely slap you.”

“Your constant desire to be someone’s dad is also a bad habit.”

The car arrived at the textile factory in the suburbs just before seven. An assistant was already waiting for them at the factory gate.

The assistant quickly led them toward the office building, explaining what they needed to do: “Teacher Chi, this way. We need to do some makeup first.”

“You’re not going to make me wear stockings, are you?”

The assistant paused, then laughed: “No, we have models for the display segment. You just need to show your face and do the voiceover.”

“Oh.”

Before he entered the studio, Jiang Chao gave his shoulder one last hard thump: “Be serious. Do a good job.”