Blue Cocktail chapter 67
Before leaving the bedroom, Lu Huaiqian didn’t forget to help Cheng Shuo close the door.
Back in the study used for independent work, he opened his email inbox. The latest emails were all job applications. He had thought about it long ago; if, someday in the future, he had a significant other, they might want to go on vacations from time to time, for several days at a stretch.
It was fine occasionally to let Zhao Ge handle things for two or three days, but always making Zhao Ge handle tasks meant burdening one person with the work of two. It was simply too inhumane. They needed to recruit a new bartender. To maintain the consistent taste of Mo Blue Bar, Lu Huaiqian might have to personally train the new person. The exclusive formula for mixing drinks would also have to be disclosed to the new recruit. This was risky because the essence of the restaurant industry lies in its taste. If the new person left with the exclusive formula he had worked hard to develop and started a competing establishment, Lu Huaiqian would incur significant losses.
However, he chose to do it this way. He was willing to take the risk. Working tirelessly for 365 days a year, almost without a break except for the Spring Festival, made dating Cheng Shuo lack any sense of experience. So, in the end, Lu Huaiqian found himself becoming the one pursuing romance.
Of course, Lu Huaiqian would take measures to reduce the risks. For example, when selecting a new person, he wouldn’t choose someone overly ambitious or looking to make big money. He might also intentionally hide the source of supplies so that the new person knew the recipe but couldn’t get the desired ingredients.
As he went through the resumes, Lu Huaiqian used a template to reply to those who met the criteria, inviting them to take a written test. Just as he was going through them one by one, he suddenly saw an email from Lu Huaixuan, marked as read.
His actions paused, and the cursor lingered for a long time without moving.
He remembered that not long ago, he was investigating Cheng Shuo’s Weibo account. In his phone’s notes, the latest entry still contained a suspicious list.
Lu Huaiqian hastily took out his phone, stayed on the notes compilation interface for a moment, but did not click into the list he had organized. Instead, he long-pressed and deleted it.
He was actually close to finding out Cheng Shuo’s Weibo account. During the May Day holiday, he did want to take Cheng Shuo on a trip. However, this trip was also part of his plan to investigate, so he deliberately chose an out-of-province destination.
Once out of the province, Cheng Shuo’s Weibo account’s IP address would change from Pei Jiang to Qi Chuan. Qi Chuan was a major tourist province. It might be a coincidence, or other artists might also happen to be visiting Qi Chuan. When he and Cheng Shuo returned home, the IP address would change back to Qi Chuan, possibly coinciding again with other artists returning to Pei Jiang.
However, the probability of coincidences itself was very small. The probability of one coincidence multiplied by another approximately equaled an impossible event. Moreover, their return time couldn’t be faked. As long as he checked the change in IP address promptly, he could completely lock onto Cheng Shuo’s Weibo account.
Was this morally right? Indeed, it was not very moral. Lu Huaiqian consoled himself by saying he wasn’t a very moral person to begin with. To ease the guilt in his heart, he had done such things before. He hadn’t thought about what he would do after finding out the account, perhaps treating it as a secret, keeping it hidden and pretending ignorance. If that were the case, why couldn’t it be that he really didn’t know?
Suddenly, Lu Huaiqian felt a sense of regret. He had almost done something that crossed Cheng Shuo’s bottom line. The desire for control, especially in older partners, sometimes led him astray. If he really found out and let Cheng Shuo know the effort he put into investigating, Cheng Shuo might never trust him again.
(Once completely deleted, the email cannot be recovered. Are you sure you want to delete it?)
(yes)
Lu Huaiqian then opened the browser and cleared all browsing history. He erased every trace.
—Do you think there should be secrets between couples?
—I think there should be.
He would never let Cheng Shuo know about this matter.
As usual, the atmosphere at dinner was harmonious. It seemed as if nothing had happened. In reality, both of them were hiding something. Cheng Shuo ate quickly, and Lu Huaiqian, while eating, still maintained a lively conversation. He received vague acknowledgments from the other side.
After a while, Cheng Shuo put down his chopsticks.
“Not eating anymore?”
“Yeah, I’m full,” Cheng Shuo replied without looking back, heading towards his drawing tablet. “I should be able to finish by 8.”
“Okay, I’ll wait for you,” Lu Huaiqian called out to his retreating figure.
Conveniently, he had some written test questions to prepare tonight. It wasn’t for Cheng Shuo, though. The half-hour effort was meant to be a bit challenging. The new bartender being selected this time was crucial for the future business of the bar. Carelessness was not an option, and the questions needed careful consideration.
Sitting in front of the computer, before he could type a few words, Lu Huaiqian suddenly received a file from Cheng Shuo, in PSD format.
Lu Huaiqian messaged, asking: “What is this?”
Cheng Shuo, probably too busy to type, replied in a voice message: “Didn’t you say that digital art is a part of my life? Yet, you know nothing about it. If you want to understand the world of artists and have more common topics with me, I found some works I did a long time ago. They’ve never been published online. If you’re interested, you can take a look. If not, that’s okay. There’s nothing particularly impressive.”
Lu Huaiqian’s heart blossomed at the moment and replied with an emoji of a Samoyed holding a heart-shaped pillow.
There was no further response. Cheng Shuo was probably racing against time to meet the deadline.
Even though it was just a file, with an ordinary name for a sketch, inconspicuous in appearance, it was several hundred megabytes in size. Lu Huaiqian’s computer also had a cracked version of the Photoshop software. He had often worked on bar advertisements and promotional graphics himself.
Upon opening it, everything became clear. Cheng Shuo had opened dozens of layers in one file. These were probably practice sketches, and Cheng Shuo, finding it troublesome, didn’t separate them. After finishing one, he would restart the layer. Each layer was a complete drawing.
The color schemes were bold, the compositions exquisite, and landscapes dominated—seascapes, skies, mountain ranges, and imaginative scenes like magical forests and cosmic skies. The perspectives were always vast. Lu Huaiqian couldn’t help but admire every piece. He painstakingly exported each image one by one, creating PNG files.
Thinking about it, he sent Cheng Shuo a message: “I really like your works. Can I save them as wallpapers?”
Cheng Shuo still replied in a voice message: “Sure, you can. But those images weren’t originally drawn for wallpapers. The colors are too vibrant. Won’t they strain your eyes?”
Lu Huaiqian responded: “I don’t think so!”
Cheng Shuo sounded confident, “Trust me, I have experience. They’ll seem vibrant after looking at them for a while. If you pick a picture for a wallpaper, send it to me. I’ll adjust the colors for you.”
Lu Huaiqian chose his favorite one, a gradient from deep blue to purple, featuring a glowing azure jellyfish, and sent it to Cheng Shuo.
On the other side, Cheng Shuo was adept. In no time, he sent back the wallpaper version. Lu Huaiqian happily set it as both his wallpaper and screensaver, thoroughly satisfied with how it looked.
Scrolling down, when Lu Huaiqian reached the bottom, he unexpectedly found five blank layers. Could it be that the previous drawings were deleted? Or were the layers opened but not drawn on? It didn’t seem like Cheng Shuo’s usual style.
After pondering for a few seconds, it suddenly dawned on him. Like a stroke of luck, Lu Huaiqian created a black layer beneath the blank layers.
Clear white outlines suddenly appeared before him.
Indeed, he was right.
After reviewing the five white outlines, Lu Huaiqian squinted slightly, his smile deepening.
Now he believed Cheng Shuo’s statement that these were drawn a long time ago because the white outlines were in the style of adult content. Knowing Cheng Shuo’s personality, he wouldn’t send such things to him. Probably, the time was too long ago, and even the author had forgotten that the white layers weren’t blank. Cheng Shuo, busy with deadlines, probably only hastily checked the file before sending, thinking there was nothing explicit inside.
Twenty minutes later, the study’s door was knocked. Cheng Shuo stood half-hidden behind the door, sounding uncomfortable. Both his expression and body language were tense. “I’ve finished drawing. Shall we begin?”
The tone sounded somewhat resigned, as if accepting an inevitable fate. Lu Huaiqian’s mischievous thoughts instantly surged, becoming lively again. Reflecting on the adult content in the sketches, he remembered all the plotlines. Bending down, he bit Cheng Shuo’s ear and whispered, “Don’t go to the bedroom. I want to do it in the study.”
Cheng Shuo softly hummed in agreement.
Lu Huaiqian took advantage of the situation, expressing a desire to engage in role-playing, with the scenario already planned out. Cheng Shuo retorted, praising Lu Huaiqian’s storytelling ability, saying it was a loss for the Chinese literary world that he didn’t write novels. Hearing this, Lu Huaiqian raised his eyebrows unexpectedly, realizing he hadn’t thought of it. No problem, he would quickly help Cheng Shuo remember all the plotlines.
Then followed a series of whispers, teasing, and persuasion. As expected, Cheng Shuo couldn’t resist and agreed.
Lu Huaiqian fetched a maid outfit and stuffed it onto Cheng Shuo’s chest.
Cheng Shuo’s face remained expressionless, but the discreetly blushing ear betrayed him. His fingertips gathered numerous folds in the skirt as he lowered his eyes, about to turn towards the bedroom—
“Hold on,” Lu Huaiqian’s gaze was calm, and his tone too, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going to change my clothes,” Cheng Shuo half-lowered his eyelids, casting a side glance at Lu Huaiqian’s face. There was no smile, only an unnamed pressure.
The old fox got into the role a bit too quickly. It seemed he had done his fair share of acting. Cheng Shuo silently added in his mind, Lu Huaiqian not being an actor was indeed a loss to the Chinese film industry.
Thinking this, he still followed Lu Huaiqian’s lead. Considering himself a financially supported impoverished college student, a foster child, Cheng Shuo respectfully said, “You said that I look good in the outfit you gave me.”
“Yes, I did.”
Lu Huaiqian’s tone carried an authoritative note that brooked no refusal. “If you want to please me, change here.”
“Change in front of me.”
Cheng Shuo’s pupils contracted slightly. “But this is—”
He met Lu Huaiqian’s gaze, which seemed to have no end. He silently swallowed the last two words.
“If you can’t do it, then forget it,” Lu Huaiqian chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve never liked forcing others to do things. You can go.”
“No—” Cheng Shuo blurted out.
“I,” he gritted his teeth, “I can.”
Under Lu Huaiqian’s intense gaze, Cheng Shuo couldn’t escape. His hands trembled as he unbuttoned his shirt. The pants pooled around his ankles. In a hurry to unzip the side of the skirt, the zipper momentarily snagged, silently exposing his nervousness and unease.
“Wait,” Lu Huaiqian leaned against the chair back, hands clasped, resting on his knee, “Aside from the outfit I gave you, don’t wear anything else.”
“Do you understand what I mean?”
“…I understand.”
The skirt, falling due to gravity, resembled a black rose touched by snow. Besides that, Cheng Shuo had nothing else on his body. The night breeze kissed his skin under the skirt, and perhaps due to the cold, his legs involuntarily twisted together, his body shivering for a moment.
Seeing Lu Huaiqian move his fingers, Cheng Shuo heard him say, “Come here.”
He walked barefoot towards Lu Huaiqian, who was fully dressed, with only an undone belt.
“If you want to please me, take the initiative. Lift your skirt yourself, then bend over.”