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Wu Suowei had been searching for love for what felt like centuries. If there were an Olympic sport for collecting failed relationships, he would have had a gold medal by now. He’d tried everything: dating apps, blind dates, introductions from friends, even that one time he’d joined a pottery class because he read online that “creative hobbies attract soulful partners.” All he’d gotten was a lopsided vase and the distinct impression that the universe was personally conspiring to keep him single.
Tonight, he was sulking at his best friend Jiang Xiao Shuai’s apartment. Unfortunately, Jiang Xiao Shuai was currently engaged in the world’s most disgusting display of affection with his boyfriend, Guo Chengyu. They were tangled together on the couch like two particularly affectionate octopuses.
Suowei launched a pillow at them with a theatrical groan. “Must you rub your perfect love in my face? It’s like watching a romantic comedy. Only worse. Because it’s real.”
Chengyu snorted, his laughter echoing through the living room. “Look at you! Acting like a grumpy old cat who’s been kicked out in the rain.”
Xiao Shuai immediately detached himself from Chengyu and sat up straight, adopting what was probably supposed to be an intimidating glare. “Hey! Only I get to mock my sad, lonely best friend. You, go away.”
Chengyu raised both hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’m going. I’ll just be in the bedroom with all my fulfilling relationship satisfaction.” He winked obnoxiously and disappeared down the hall.
Xiao Shuai let out an exhausted sigh and shuffled over to the couch where Suowei was now sulking with the pillow over his head. He peeled it away and patted Suowei’s hair like one would console a sulky toddler. “Alright, drama queen. Tell me everything. Spare no tragic detail.”
Suowei sat up, lip trembling, eyes shining with theatrical despair. “Shifu, I’m cursed. All my plans for love, all of them, have failed! I’m doomed to be alone forever. I’ll die in my apartment surrounded by old takeout containers and pictures of everyone else’s wedding invitations.”
Xiao Shuai blinked. He had heard this exact speech at least twelve times. Possibly fifteen. It always ended with Suowei crying on his shoulder for an hour and then announcing he was ready to “put himself out there” again, only to return two weeks later in exactly the same state.
Before he could respond, Chengyu reappeared, looking suspiciously gleeful. “You know,” he said, ignoring Xiao Shuai’s glare of death, “I was just thinking... my friend is single too. You should meet him. A blind date!”
Suowei’s eyes widened. “A man? I don’t-”
Xiao Shuai clapped a hand over his mouth. “Listen. Let’s take a moment to review your track record with women.” He held up an imaginary list and flipped through invisible pages. “Failure. Disaster. Chaos. That one girl who only dated you because she thought you looked like her ex.”
Suowei flailed in protest, but Xiao Shuai didn’t budge. “I’m just saying, Da Wei... maybe the universe is trying to tell you something. Maybe it’s time to be…open-minded.”
Chengyu nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! Besides, he’s actually a great guy. Funny, sweet, tall-and, unlike your last date, he probably won’t ask you to split the bill when he ordered three lobsters.” (Funny? Who you lying to Chengyu...?)
Suowei buried his face back into the pillow. His voice came out muffled and pitiful. “Why is my life like this…”
Xiao Shuai leaned in and pried the pillow away again. “It’s one date. One. If you hate him, you never have to see him again. But if you don’t try, you’ll never know. Maybe this is your chance to-”
“-finally join the rest of us in Happy Relationship Land!” Chengyu interrupted. “Think of all the cute double dates we could go on! We’ll have matching couple outings. We’ll buy group tickets to the amusement park-”
“Stop. That’s horrifying,” Suowei groaned.
“Or,” Xiao Shuai said, ignoring him, “you could go back to crying on my couch once a week. Your choice.”
Suowei lifted his head, cheeks pink, and scowled at both of them. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll go. But if he’s weird, I’m blaming you two forever.”
Chengyu clapped his hands together like he’d just won the lottery. “Fantastic! I’ll set it up. You’ll thank me later when you’re blissfully in love.”
“Or in jail for murdering your friend,” Suowei muttered darkly, though a tiny, nervous smile was creeping onto his face.
Xiao Shuai ruffled his hair. “Atta boy. Now go shower. You smell like an existential crisis”
Wu Suowei arrived at the restaurant absurdly early. He’d heard from Guo Chengyu that Chi Cheng had two major dealbreakers: people who showed up late, and people who looked like they’d crawled out of a laundry basket. So Suowei had woken up at the crack of dawn, showered twice, styled his hair for an hour, and ended up in sleek black trousers, a crisp white shirt, a short-sleeve collared layer on top, and black sneakers.
Now he was standing outside a building so fancy it looked like it belonged in a drama where chaebol heirs drank overpriced coffee and broke hearts for fun.
He stared at the glittering glass entrance. Was he in the right place? Or had Chengyu accidentally set him up at a corporate board meeting?
Before he could spiral into a full-blown identity crisis, a voice cut through the air behind him.
“Oh. You arrived quite early.”
Suowei jumped so violently he nearly dropped his phone. He whipped around like a startled hamster and found himself looking up at a man who might as well have been carved from marble.
Tall. Expensive-looking. A tailored suit hugging a lean, toned frame. And those eyes… they looked sharp enough to slice a watermelon clean in half.
Suowei blinked, star-struck.
Guo Chengyu had shown him a picture of Chi Cheng before this date, and he’d thought: Wow, handsome. But that picture had been criminally unfair. Because in real life, Chi Cheng was less “good-looking guy” and more “devastatingly gorgeous titan descended from heaven to ruin Suowei’s life.”
“You’re not too bad,” Chi Cheng said, breezing past him like it was perfectly normal to drop compliments on unsuspecting strangers.
Suowei’s brain short-circuited. Not too bad? Was that… a good thing? Or a bad thing?
He scurried after Chi Cheng, trying not to trip over his own feet. As they stepped into the restaurant, Suowei noticed that every single staff member greeted Chi Cheng with polite bows and glowing smiles. The décor inside was pure opulence: crystal chandeliers, sleek white marble floors, walls that gleamed like polished pearls. Suowei felt about as fancy as a lone sock in a designer boutique.
A smiling hostess led them to a gorgeous table by window that overlooked the glittering city skyline. Before Chi Cheng sat down, he paused and turned, one eyebrow lifted. Suowei was still busy gaping at the chandeliers.
Chi Cheng cleared his throat. Suowei snapped to attention and realized Chi Cheng was holding out a chair for him.
“Ah- sorry!” Suowei yelped, nearly falling into the seat in his rush. Before he could stammer out a thank you, Chi Cheng smoothly pushed him in and took his own seat.
“Thank you…” Suowei muttered, cheeks burning.
Chi Cheng just nodded like he’d performed the most mundane task in the world.
A waitress arrived and, curiously, handed only one menu... to Suowei. He hesitated, glancing at Chi Cheng, but decided not to question it.
He opened the menu, took one look at the prices and nearly fainted!
Two hundred and eighty-eight yuan for a salad? Is the lettuce hand-massaged by monks?!
He lowered the menu and found Chi Cheng staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Do you know what you want to eat yet?” Chi Cheng asked.
Suowei shook his head frantically. Then, in a small voice, he said, “Um… don’t you maybe want to… go somewhere else? The food here is… really expensive. I don’t think I can afford it. Sorry…”
Chi Cheng’s jaw tightened. Suowei panicked. Shit, he’s mad. I’ve offended the fancy rich guy. I’m going to die alone.
But then Chi Cheng leaned forward, folding his arms on the table, and said in a low voice, “When did I ever ask you to pay for the bill?”
“Oh… you never did…”
“Exactly,” Chi Cheng said, coolly. “So pick whatever you’d like. And if I see you ordering the cheapest thing on the menu, I’ll buy every single dish just to spite you. Got it?”
Suowei swallowed. “Mhm… got it.”
He picked the menu back up and chose something that wasn’t the cheapest, but still wouldn’t make him cry if he had to pay for it himself.
The waitress returned, beaming, and took Suowei’s order. She gave him a sweet smile and glided off toward the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes later, their meals arrived. It was two beautifully plated dishes that looked like edible art. The waitress also brought tea and sparkling water, bowing gracefully as she left them to dine.
Suowei picked up his fork and took a tiny, cautious bite. The flavors exploded on his tongue, it was savory, delicate, perfectly balanced. He nearly teared up. So this is what food tastes like when it costs half your rent.
Meanwhile, across the table, Chi Cheng was barely touching his own meal. He just sat there, casually watching Suowei eat like he was the most fascinating exhibit at a museum.
After about thirty-five minutes of mostly silence, Chi Cheng finally spoke up.
“You’ve been awfully quiet this whole meal. What’s on your mind, hm?”
Suowei froze, mid-bite. He slowly lowered his fork, fingers trembling, and started fidgeting under the table. “Well… nothing, really…”
Chi Cheng, who had been slouched lazily in his chair, suddenly straightened and propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand. A sly grin tugged at his lips.
“Are you really thinking of nothing… or are you thinking of me?”
“Huh- thinking of you?!” Suowei squeaked, nearly choking on air. His face went crimson.
Chi Cheng’s grin widened. “Well, yeah. You should’ve seen the way you were looking at me outside the restaurant. And you keep sneaking glances at me while you eat. So if you’re not thinking of me, what could you possibly be thinking of?”
“I- I- heh… I just think you look really… handsome,” Suowei confessed, his voice dropping to a whisper so quiet he wasn’t sure he’d even said it out loud.
But Chi Cheng heard him loud and clear. His entire face lit up with a dazzling smile.
Suowei felt his soul leave his body. He wanted to crawl under the table and never emerge again. Why did I say that?!
Chi Cheng, thoroughly amused, just kept staring at him with those sharp, gleaming eyes.
Panic rising, Suowei mumbled, “I- I’ll be right back…” and bolted for the bathroom, nearly tripping over a server carrying a tray of desserts.
“You stupid, stupid, stupid idiot!” Wu Suowei scolded his own reflection, practically vibrating with embarrassment as he stormed out of one of the bathroom stalls.
He stomped over to the sink, slammed the faucet open, and began furiously washing his hands, as though he could scrub the humiliation off his skin.
“Why is my face so red?” he groaned, splashing water over his cheeks. “Stupid body. Stupid blushing face. It’s not even like he’s that attractive…”
He paused, glaring into the mirror. His reflection glared back at him, red as a tomato.
“…Who am I kidding?” he muttered. “He’s way hotter than that photo Chengyu showed me. He’s like… like some evil boss character in a drama who seduces the innocent protagonist!”
He bent closer to the mirror, inspecting the fiery flush on his skin. The redness was stubbornly refusing to fade, and his hair was starting to flop wildly from all the frantic splashing.
“Ugh, this is it,” he mumbled, slumping forward. “This is how I die. Single and humiliated. I’m going to crawl into a sewer and live there.”
Except he suddenly noticed, through the slightly misty mirror, a shape moving behind him. A tall, sharp-edged, terrifyingly handsome shape.
He froze. His soul left his body.
He spun around. “Chi Cheng-!”
Chi Cheng didn’t even give him time to finish. He crossed the bathroom in three long strides, grabbed Suowei around the waist like he weighed nothing, and lifted him onto the marble counter. Suowei yelped and clung to Chi Cheng’s shoulders for dear life.
“Ch- Chi Cheng- what are you doing?!” Suowei squeaked, blinking like a startled rabbit. (He gonna eat you, that's what he gon do...)
Chi Cheng’s eyes gleamed, a sly smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. “I made sure not to eat anything back there. I was saving room for dessert.”
Suowei blinked. “Dessert…? Wait- what dessert-”
Chi Cheng leaned closer, his voice dropping lower, silkier. “And hearing you spouting all that in front of the mirror… well. It confirmed that you kind of want me, too.”
Suowei gaped. “You- you heard all of that?!” His fingers dug harder into Chi Cheng’s shoulders, his entire face flaming.
“Yeah,” Chi Cheng said, tone casual, but his eyes glittered. “And you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to kiss you. Ever since Chengyu showed me your picture, I’ve been thinking about it.” His voice softened. “But only if you’ll let me.”
Suowei’s eyes went round and shiny, like two glossy boba balls. He swallowed, then gave a tiny nod, soft and shy.
Chi Cheng’s lips curled into a devastating smile, and he dipped forward, capturing Suowei’s lips in a gentle, teasing kiss.
Suowei had braced himself for something intense and demanding, but instead, Chi Cheng’s lips were soft and patient, brushing over his own like a secret being whispered. Chi Cheng nipped lightly at Suowei’s bottom lip, then pulled back just enough to give him a dazed look… before leaning in again.
The second kiss was deeper, slower, a little messier, as though Chi Cheng couldn’t quite help himself. His hands slipped from Suowei’s waist to cradle his face, thumbs gently stroking his flushed cheeks.
When Chi Cheng finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against Suowei’s, eyes half-lidded, breath slightly ragged.
“You taste like oily vegetables,” he murmured.
Suowei let out an outraged squeak and gave him a soft punch on the shoulder.
Chi Cheng chuckled, eyes twinkling. “It’s a compliment. You taste divine either way. And I’d like to do it again.”
But Suowei quickly pressed his palms against Chi Cheng’s chest, trying to push him back a little. “No! People are going to come in here and see us!”
Chi Cheng simply slapped his hands away, leaned in, and gave him a quick, mischievous peck right on the lips. Then, with smooth strength, he lifted Suowei off the counter. Suowei instinctively wrapped his arms around Chi Cheng’s broad shoulders, heart racing.
“Warn me next time!” Suowei yelped.
“No fun in that,” Chi Cheng said, a wicked glint in his eyes.
Once Suowei was back on his feet, Chi Cheng reached down, found Suowei’s hands, and laced their fingers together. Suowei stared at their joined hands in wonder, his eyes slowly drifting upward to Chi Cheng’s face.
Chi Cheng gave him a small smile: just a faint quirk of the lips, barely showing teeth, but somehow it made Suowei’s chest squeeze painfully tight.
Without another word, Chi Cheng turned and tugged him gently out of the bathroom.
Suowei stumbled along in a daze, still pressing his free hand to his tingling lips.
By the time they got back to the table, Chi Cheng was already speaking calmly to the waitress, requesting takeaway boxes and the check. Meanwhile, Suowei was so busy replaying that bathroom scene in his head that he was barely aware of anything else.
Chi Cheng finished speaking to the waitress, who bowed and hurried off. He turned back around and caught sight of Suowei, who was sitting there, red as a cherry, absentmindedly touching his own lips.
The sight made Chi Cheng snort a soft laugh.
Hearing the sound, Suowei jumped and dropped both his hands into his lap as if he’d been caught committing a crime.
“Okay,” Chi Cheng said, pushing his chair back. “I’m taking you home. Let’s go.”
He got up and walked over, pulling Suowei’s chair out. Suowei scrambled to his feet. Chi Cheng guided him gently aside so the waitress could clean up their table and pack their leftovers.
After thanking the staff, Chi Cheng gathered the plastic bag of neatly packed takeaway boxes. Then he took Suowei’s wrist with a surprisingly gentle grip and led him out of the restaurant.
Outside, the city lights glowed like stars scattered over velvet. Chi Cheng opened the passenger door of his sleek black car and looked at Suowei expectantly.
Suowei, still floating somewhere between mortification and euphoria, blinked at him and mumbled, “Thank… thank you.”
Chi Cheng tilted his head and grinned. “Anytime. Now get in, before I decide to finish dessert out here.”
Wu Suowei and Chi Cheng went on many more dates after that fateful restaurant encounter, growing closer and closer with every passing week.
By the three month mark, Suowei was practically living at Chi Cheng’s place. His clothes were scattered in every room, his toothbrush sat beside Chi Cheng’s expensive electric one, and his weird collection of novelty mugs, like the one shaped like a chicken, was steadily invading Chi Cheng’s minimalist kitchen.
If you visited Chi Cheng’s apartment nowadays, you’d find a pair of Suowei’s slippers in the hallway, an anime keychain hanging from the door handle, and possibly Suowei himself, half-asleep on the couch, drooling on one of Chi Cheng’s expensive pillows.
They’d also become professional double-daters with Xiao Shuai and Guo Chengyu. Every dinner turned into gossip hour, where Suowei and Xiao Shuai giggled and whispered secrets while their boyfriends sat nearby, smiling fondly and gazing at their partners as if they were the sun and moon.
Because those two dorks? They were theirs. No one else’s.
Tonight, they were all at a karaoke place. Chi Cheng and Suowei were officially about four months into their relationship.
And Suowei and Xiao Shuai were wasted.
The pair were onstage, arms flung around each other’s shoulders, shrieking into their microphones.
Chengyu and Chi Cheng sat side by side in a booth, quietly sipping water, their expressions stuck somewhere between horror and deep, unending love.
They exchanged a glance. The kind of glance that said, Shall we rescue them before they set the place on fire?
Chengyu sighed and stood up. “I’ll get Xiao Shuai.”
Chi Cheng nodded. “I’ll catch Suowei.”
And it was like a well-rehearsed maneuver. Chengyu swooped in, expertly prying Xiao Shuai off Suowei and steering him toward the door, while Chi Cheng stepped in to catch Suowei, who promptly wobbled sideways and nearly toppled over.
Meanwhile, in a quieter private room, Chengyu deposited Xiao Shuai onto a plush couch and ordered some water bottles from the staff.
Xiao Shuai was slumped back, still gripping his microphone like a sword. He lifted it dramatically. “Quit looking at me like that!” he slurred.
Chengyu leaned in closer, eyes softening. “I can’t help myself. I swear you get prettier every day. I mean it, Shuai Shuai.”
Xiao Shuai squinted at him, his drunken haze fading a little. He sat forward until their noses were practically touching. “And you get more handsome every time I look at you.”
Chengyu clicked his tongue playfully. “Careful. Keep talking like that and I’m not letting you leave this couch.”
Xiao Shuai grinned. “Maybe I don’t want to leave.”
Chengyu smirked and closed the tiny gap between them, kissing him slow and sloppy, tasting faintly of beer and sweet fruit soju. It was messy but soft, genuine but greedy.
When they pulled apart, Xiao Shuai’s alcohol laced breath hit Chengyu’s nose, making him burst out laughing. But then he stood and leaned over, pressing Xiao Shuai back into the couch cushions.
“I’m so lucky to have you,” he murmured, before kissing him again, faster this time, his right hand sliding down to the hem of Xiao Shuai’s shirt. He started unbuttoning it with practiced fingers while his left hand cupped Xiao Shuai’s jaw.
Meanwhile, back in the main karaoke room, Suowei was now solo dancing with a beer bottle in his hand, using it as a makeshift microphone.
“Chi Cheng! Dance with me!” Suowei shouted, spinning around and grabbing Chi Cheng’s hands.
But the beer bottle slipped from his fingers mid-spin. Chi Cheng reacted with catlike reflexes, catching it an inch from the floor.
“Be careful!” Chi Cheng snapped, brows furrowed. “What if it shattered and cut you? Do you want to bleed out over karaoke?!”
Suowei waved him off cheerfully. “It’s fine! You’re always here to protect me. Now dance!!”
Chi Cheng sighed in utter resignation and began mimicking Suowei’s chaotic dance moves. The two of them flailed around to a cheesy pop song, laughing breathlessly.
Suowei’s rhythm was… questionable. He danced like a man trying to swat invisible flies. Chi Cheng tried to keep up, but halfway through the song, Suowei lost his balance completely and crashed into him.
Luckily, the couch caught both of them.
“Hey! What did I tell you about being careful?” Chi Cheng scolded, looking down at Suowei sprawled across his chest. “What if I’m not here next time and you hurt yourself?”
Suowei just giggled and wrapped his arms around Chi Cheng’s waist, snuggling closer. “I’m so happy my past relationships failed… or else I wouldn’t have met you. Thank you for coming into my… life…”
His voice faded as his eyes fluttered shut, and moments later, soft snores rose from his chest.
Chi Cheng stared at the top of Suowei’s fluffy hair, lips quirking into a helpless smile.
He’d fallen in love with an idiot. A giggly, dramatic, clumsy dork who sang off-key and nearly cracked his skull on karaoke tables. But that was okay. Because this was his idiot.
And he loved every ridiculous, beautiful bit of him.