Blue Cocktail chapter 64
Three hours later.
Lu Huaiqian rubbed his temples, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed deeply with a sense of unwillingness—indeed, he had oversimplified the situation.
In most cases, Cheng Shuo couldn’t outsmart him, but in a crowd, Cheng Shuo was often the more astute one. If Lu Huaiqian were the old fox, Cheng Shuo could undoubtedly be considered the young fox—after all, how could someone he was interested in not be intelligent?
Out of the eighteen Weibo accounts, Lu Huaiqian couldn’t find Cheng Shuo’s Weibo handle.
However, some illustrators had posted pictures of their daily lives, helping him eliminate a few distracting options.
He should have expected this; Cheng Shuo had mentioned to him before that he hoped to keep his online and offline lives separate. As a seasoned internet user, Cheng Shuo had experienced a few pitfalls, one of which was having a pseudonym exposed by Zhu Meng. After countless battles, Cheng Shuo had mastered the art of protecting his privacy—even avoiding iconic landmarks in his sketches.
Without concrete evidence in hand, Lu Huaiqian could only sort the Weibo accounts based on the language used, writing style, and level of suspicion.
Ah, the clues were still too few. If only there were more clues, preferably ones that couldn’t be forged and didn’t exist to mislead him.
Staring at the list, pondering and contemplating, he wondered if he had overlooked any crucial information. Suddenly, he had a revelation—what if he could create new clues?
Thinking of Cheng Shuo’s repeated declaration not to knock unless necessary, Lu Huaiqian cautiously sent a WeChat message: “Are you done drawing?”
Cheng Shuo replied instantly: “No, why?”
If the other person was busy and uninterested, the typical response would be, “Busy, won’t reply to messages.” Taking this as a signal, Lu Huaiqian seized the opportunity: “The May Day holiday is coming soon. Have you ever thought about going out together during the break?”
Lu Huaiqian: “Dog fetching roses.jpg.”
Cheng Shuo had never considered this, just as he had never thought about dating a rich and handsome older man during his college years. During breaks, he usually chose to stay at home or in the dormitory. Cheng Shuo responded, “Where do you want to go?”
Lu Huaiqian sent a voice message: “I haven’t thought about it carefully yet. You have to agree first. My effort in making travel plans shouldn’t go to waste, right?”
“For now, my preliminary idea is to go to the capital of Qichuan province. There are many attractions there. I remember there’s a racing park in Qichuan; I’ve been there a few times before. We can go for a ride if the weather is good, chasing the sunset along the track.”
“Or we can go on a road trip to Tingshan, also in Qichuan. I don’t know if you’ve been there, but my friend has. He sent me videos, and the mountain road is beautiful. Alongside the road, there are maple trees, redwoods, falling petals, misty surroundings, and an ancient town with a long bridge.”
Cheng Shuo had to admit he was intrigued: “Can we go to both the racing park and Tingshan?”
Lu Huaiqian, secretly pleased with the catch, replied, “Of course.”
Due to the excessive enthusiasm from the other side, Cheng Shuo remained cautious: “Why did you suddenly think of this?”
Lu Huaiqian exclaimed, “How can you not go out during the May Day holiday! Isn’t that a very normal thing to do!”
Oh, right.
That makes sense.
Cheng Shuo couldn’t help but introspect. Perhaps his I-value was too high. He actually thought it was suitable to stay at home during the holidays. Maybe he needed to change his perspective.
As if remembering something, Cheng Shuo asked: “You won’t be with someone else, will you?”
Lu Huaiqian: “Only you and me.”
Cheng Shuo: “Okay.”
And thus, the two reached a consensus on the travel plans.
Lu Huaiqian took full responsibility for the travel schedule, also, with a determined spirit despite his injury, efficiently completed the procedures for transferring property. In the company of Cheng Shuo, he also went to the hospital to have his cast removed.
Having worn the cast for a long time, Lu Huaiqian’s joints were stiff, and the surrounding soft tissues were adhered. The doctor advised him to exercise and gradually bend the joints to promote recovery.
Now, Lu Huaiqian treated this advice like a royal decree, mentioning it every day. He touched Cheng Shuo everywhere, not only on the surface but also below, claiming it was part of the “exercise.”
Disgusting.
During the recovery period, Cheng Shuo didn’t bother to expose him. He let him do as he pleased.
Coincidentally, the bar renovation was coming to an end, and Lu Huaiqian frequently went back to check on it.
He had invited Cheng Shuo to return to the bar with him, but Cheng Shuo, using the excuse of rushing to finish an illustration, politely declined. Lu Huaiqian earnestly suggested they could go to the bar to work on illustrations. In response, Cheng Shuo gave him a nonchalant look, completely unaffected—could you believe such a statement?
At the same time, the lonely Lu Huaiqian, who had been guarding an empty house, was fired by his own employee—Cheng Shuo claimed that he had received many commissions recently, making him too busy to handle both illustration work and part-time work at the bar. Besides, working as a part-timer at his boyfriend’s bar was strange, and it would be even weirder to ask his boyfriend for wages. When tired, people only wanted to do two things: eat and sleep. At least, that’s what Cheng Shuo believed, emphasizing that sleep was a noun and not the dirty verb Lu Huaiqian always had in mind.
Occasionally, Lu Huaiqian would distract him with a message, and Cheng Shuo would reply sincerely, considering it a sign of his importance. As for good friends, he would use the template response: “I’ve been very busy lately, so I might not reply promptly. Sorry.” For unrelated people, he’d use a universal response template along with emojis to brush them off.
Vaguely recalling that Lu Huaiqian had mentioned being busy with inventory and warehouse management, staying away for a few days, Cheng Shuo even thought, for a moment, that he was the only one living in Fufu Jiayuan. He even forgot to close the door while drawing, leaving it slightly open.
That’s when the “tragedy” unfolded.
One of the commissions Cheng Shuo received was a collaboration with another illustrator, Cang Ming, to adapt a popular mid-length novel into a manga.
As the manga on the platform was rated 18+, it inevitably involved erotic scenes. To boost traffic, the website required retaining these scenes, but to pass censorship, it also demanded discretion in revealing certain parts. The task placed high demands on the basic skills of the illustrators.
Cheng Shuo’s strength wasn’t limited to the human body; it extended to color. The original author had emphasized her liking for Cheng Shuo’s color work. Thus, Cheng Shuo was given the honorable task of coloring, while Cang Ming was responsible for the line art.
During the collaboration, communication was necessary. Given the subjective nature of the illustration industry, ease of communication was crucial. Cang Ming suggested voice calls for efficient communication, and Cheng Shuo readily agreed. Voice calls freed up both hands, allowing them to chat and make adjustments simultaneously.
Cheng Shuo wasn’t accustomed to using speakerphones, so he put on his Bluetooth earphones. As a result, the following dialogue naturally unfolded—
“I think the colors you used for the clothing are too bright and don’t match the character’s personality.”
“I feel like you might need to improve the human anatomy on page four.”
At the beginning, Cheng Shuo used euphemistic language due to civility concerns. However, later, he found that being subtle and indirect led to unclear communication. To improve efficiency, he decided to be straightforward.
“The perspective is a bit off, and the crotch position feels a bit strange. It seems like it should lean more to the left. I know that this area will definitely be censored before being posted, so the readers won’t see it. However, the position you choose for the perspective determines the position of the top’s crotch and also determines the position when the top is on his knees. Readers can see this. Also, it seems like you forgot to draw nipples on the top. He shouldn’t be without them.”
“Sorry, I forgot,” the other side replied with a smile. “Thank you, Zhu Cheng.”
Cheng Shuo’s Weibo name was Zhu Cheng, with no special meaning—it was chosen randomly back then.
“I might be a bit blunt in my words. If I accidentally offend you, you can curse me in your heart,” Cheng Shuo tried to remedy. “I’m just nitpicking. You have done well in other areas.”
The other side chuckled, “Don’t worry, I won’t take it personally. It’s not our first collaboration. Your opinions are insightful and focused on the work, not the person. That’s how partners are. When working together, we might think the other is an idiot.”
This statement struck a chord with Cheng Shuo, and he couldn’t help but smile. Then he shook his head and sighed, “Every time I draw for commercial projects, it’s mentally and physically exhausting.”
“Yeah, thankfully it’s over this time. We can take a break for a while.”
“How long of a break can we get?” Cheng Shuo sighed, “Not long, I remember it’ll be time for the next bed scene very soon.”
A lament came from the other end, “I feel like I’m going to be exhausted. How can a mid-length novel require so many erotic scenes!”
Hearing this, Cheng Shuo also sighed, “Ah, let’s both hang in there.”
They bid each other farewell.
As soon as the call ended, Lu Huaiqian’s voice suddenly came from behind, accompanied by an ambiguous snicker, “I haven’t slept at home for just a few days, and you’re already talking about going to bed with other men?”
Cheng Shuo abruptly turned around, and his verbal system temporarily short-circuited. “You, didn’t you say you wouldn’t be home tonight?”
Wait a minute, this statement sounds… Why does it sound like I’m caught in bed with someone else?