Work Text:
Once a year, Shen Wenlang made the office atmosphere significantly more pleasant by ordering catering and declaring everyone’s favorite day: “No Dress Code Day.” Employees were allowed to come in whatever they wanted, as long as it stayed within reasonable limits. No pink hair (that was reserved for the secretary on the third floor), no chains (the system administrator turned out to be a Rammstein fan), and absolutely no flip-flops, because apparently someone had been too warm. It might have been warm, but closed-toe shoes were strongly recommended. The employees learned that the hard way, but otherwise they had freedom.
So when Gao Tu showed up in dark trousers and a matching blazer, no one paid any particular attention. After all, Gao Tu was Gao Tu. When he arrived the following year in jeans and a white shirt, a group of anchovy-snack enthusiasts gathered by the buffet actually craned their necks to get a better look. Because yes, it was Gao Tu—but he also happened to perfectly fit the definition of “too beautiful to be a man.”
The real problem started when Gao Tu appeared in cargo pants and a t-shirt that revealed muscles clearly shaped by regular training. That was followed by several flirts and date invitations.
Of course, Shen Wenlang had no idea about any of this, because “No Dress Code Day” had become a personal holiday for him after the flip-flop fiasco. He never attended again and refused to look at any photos. What did he care what his employees wore in their free time, as long as they did their jobs properly, met deadlines, and didn’t use the company email to send pictures of cute cats?
This year, he had missed the announcement about casual dress (because he hadn’t read the email) and had already scheduled a meeting with the operations department. He couldn’t change the date—it was for the quarterly evaluations—and later he had a flight to Europe for the new rose oil shipments. So the only thing left to do was go to the office, force a smile (he wasn’t going to), and accept that everyone had a fashion sense that didn’t match his standards. He just hoped there wouldn’t be anyone in flip-flops.
Entering the conference room, he was pleasantly surprised to find that traditional folk costumes were absent and everyone was wearing closed shoes. He could tolerate the chief accountant’s pink blouse and even Gao Tu’s Hawaiian shirt, which had three buttons undone and revealed a little more than necessary. He didn’t like that. There was no explanation for why. Gao Tu was simply his personal assistant, who received certain benefits (after all, they had known each other since school, and his sister was ill and needed treatment). The fact that he was beautiful wasn’t relevant to his job—it was just a bonus. The way Gao Tu sometimes looked at him too intently was only because Shen Wenlang wanted to make sure he was performing to company standards and had no communication issues with colleagues. The fact that one colleague had been transferred to the city H office had nothing to do with his flirtatious attitude toward Gao Tu—it was pure coincidence that he was the right person for the new position. The other colleague who had been fired for having the imprudence to say that “Gao Tu is both sexy and adorable, which is inhuman” had been let go to avoid a sexual harassment lawsuit, not out of any fit of jealousy. He wasn’t jealous. No. He was simply showing that everyone was protected and safe in his company.
So today he tried not to look at Gao Tu and his far-too-unbuttoned shirt. When he had seen him that morning, he’d wanted to button it up for him, but that would have been strange. Besides, the red suited him perfectly and made him look sweet. An hour and a half later, he gave in and glanced to the right—only to see the operations department manager staring far too intently at his assistant. There was something in that look that made Shen Wenlang turn his gaze to Gao Tu. And then he saw it.
He was sure of it. His assistant had a tattoo under his collarbone, and Shen Wenlang hadn’t known. Gao Tu had a tattoo, and he hadn’t even suspected. Of course, Shen Wenlang didn’t stop to think why he should know—but that didn’t stop him from feeling deeply disappointed. Because the truth was that his personal assistant, whom he had known for years, with whom he had studied, who knew the passwords to his home and even his personal bank accounts, had a secret he hadn’t been told. And he didn’t like it.
Shen Wenlang suddenly felt a chill, because he realized that Gao Tu had a life outside of work, outside the office, and definitely outside of him. And he hated it.
The meeting ran thirty-two minutes longer than necessary, which only made Shen Wenlang more irritable. Gao Tu glanced at him twice and smiled apologetically, but that didn’t calm him—because every time Gao Tu turned toward him, the shirt gaped even more, though never quite enough for Shen Wenlang to make out what exactly was drawn on his assistant’s skin.
When the meeting finally ended and everyone headed back to their desks, Gao Tu left with the operations manager to pick up some documents that could have easily been sent by email. Shen Wenlang couldn’t take it anymore. He waited exactly three minutes and pressed the intercom button.
“Gao Tu. My office.”
“Now.”
"OK"
His tone was as calm as ever. For some reason, that irritated Shen Wenlang even more. Five minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Gao Tu stepped inside with a folder in his hand.
“Is there a problem?”
“Sit.”
“That sounds threatening.”
“It’s not.”
“Good.”
Gao Tu sat down across from the desk and waited. Shen Wenlang stared at him for a few seconds.
The damn shirt was still unbuttoned.
“The evaluations from the operations department.”
“What about them?”
“Any remarks?”
“No.”
“So they’re good?”
“Yes.”
“No suggestions?”
“No.”
Gao Tu tilted his head.
“Mr. Shen, if you’re just going to call me in to confirm documents, you could have sent me a message.”
“I didn’t call you in because of the documents.”
“I already figured that out.”
A short silence fell.
“The new warehouse in Germany?”
“Ready.”
“The contracts?”
“Checked.”
“The shipments?”
“Confirmed.”
“The budget?”
“Updated.”
With every answer, Gao Tu’s smile grew a little wider.
Finally, he sighed.
“Alright. What do you actually want to ask me?”
Shen Wenlang narrowed his eyes.
“Why did you decide to get the documents in person?”
“Because I was going that way anyway.”
“You could have received them by email.”
“I could have.”
“And yet you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because a five-minute walk won’t kill anyone.”
“The operations manager looked very pleased to accompany you.”
Gao Tu blinked. Then he leaned back.
“Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Of course.”
“Gao Tu.”
“Mr. Shen.”
Shen Wenlang felt a headache coming on. This conversation was not going in the right direction.
“How long have you been working here?”
“Seven years.”
“How long have we known each other?”
“Since high school.”
“So quite a long time.”
“Yes.”
“I know almost everything about you.”
That made Gao Tu laugh. A real laugh.
“No, you don’t.”
“I know enough.”
“If that helps you sleep at night.”
“Gao Tu.”
“Fine, fine. Go on.”
Shen Wenlang tapped his fingers on the desk.
“Do you have any plans after work?”
“No.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Gao Tu looked at him carefully.
“This is a very strange conversation…”
“Answer.”
“No.”
“You’re not seeing anyone?”
“No.”
A strange relief washed over Shen Wenlang. He decided not to analyze why.
“Hobbies?”
“I have some.”
“What kind?”
“Various.”
“That’s not very specific.”
“It isn’t.”
Shen Wenlang stared at him for a long moment. Then his gaze involuntarily slid to the collar of the shirt. Gao Tu noticed. Of course he noticed.
“Ahhh.”
“What?”
“So that’s why.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Mr. Shen, if you ever leave the business, don’t become a poker player.”
“Gao Tu.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t like that tone.”
“I don’t like it either.”
Another silence. Then Shen Wenlang finally said:
“How long have you had it?”
Gao Tu’s smile froze for a fraction of a second.
“What?”
“The tattoo.”
“Ah.”
“How long?”
“For some time now.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“But it is technically correct.”
“What is it of?”
“A drawing.”
“Gao Tu.”
“Shen Wenlang.”
“Stop.”
“Then stop interrogating me like it’s something bad.”
Shen Wenlang leaned back.
“You’ve never mentioned that you have a tattoo.”
“You never asked.”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to.”
“Well, now you know. What does it mean?”
“Something.”
“What something?”
“It’s personal.”
Shen Wenlang fell silent. Then asked more quietly:
“Why is it under your collarbone?”
“Because it’s not on my knee.”
“Gao Tu.”
“Sorry.”
Despite his words, he didn’t look sorry at all. Shen Wenlang watched him for a few seconds, then gave up on being indirect.
“What is the tattoo?”
This time Gao Tu didn’t joke. He looked at him calmly.
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“That’s very childish.”
“Maybe.”
“Gao Tu.”
“No.”
“Just tell me what it is.”
“No.”
“Is it a flower?”
“No comment.”
“An animal?”
“No comment.”
“Text?”
“No comment.”
“A symbol?”
“No comment.”
“Incredible.”
“Thank you.”
Shen Wenlang looked at him as if considering firing him. Gao Tu looked completely unbothered. Finally, he stood up from the chair.
“If that’s everything, I have work to do.”
“Gao Tu.”
He turned at the door.
“Yes?”
“One day you’ll tell me.”
His smile returned. This time it was that sly kind that said dream on.
“I wouldn’t count on that.”
Then he opened the door and left, leaving Shen Wenlang alone in his office. Irritated. Curious. And absolutely convinced that he would find out what was under that damn shirt, even if it took him years.
Over the next twelve months, Shen Wenlang learned one very unpleasant thing about himself. He could run a company with thousands of employees. He could predict market trends. He could negotiate with suppliers on three continents at once. He could find an error in a two-hundred-page report in under ten minutes. But he could not figure out what Gao Tu’s tattoo was. And it was slowly driving him insane.
The first attempt was completely accidental. Or so he told himself.
Two months later, they had a company event by the lake. Nothing special—barbecue, team games, and enough food to feed a small village. Shen Wenlang had intended to stay for no more than an hour. Then he saw Gao Tu in a t-shirt and stayed for four. Unfortunately, the tattoo wasn’t visible. Only the very top of it. Something dark. Something with curves. That was all.
He spent the entire afternoon watching Gao Tu move among his colleagues. How he laughed. How he talked. How unusually alive he looked outside the office. It was strange. At work, Gao Tu was always calm, organized, and composed. Outside of it, he seemed softer. Warmer. More real. That was the first time Shen Wenlang realized he didn’t know this person nearly as well as he thought he did.
The second attempt was more embarrassing.
“What are you looking at?”
Shen Wenlang blinked.
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been staring at my collarbone for three minutes.”
“That’s not true.”
“Two minutes and fifty seconds?”
“Gao Tu.”
“I’m just asking.”
The bastard didn’t even look up from the documents.
“If you’re that interested, you can just tell me.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Of course.”
After that, he smiled every time they were left alone in the office for an entire week. Shen Wenlang hated him a little.
The third attempt was downright pathetic.
One evening they worked late. Gao Tu fell asleep on the sofa in the office. Shen Wenlang tried to focus on the contract in front of him. He failed. After ten minutes he looked up. After five more, he looked again. Then once more. Finally he closed his laptop. Gao Tu was sleeping on his side. His shirt had shifted slightly. Just a few centimeters. Just a little. Enough for Shen Wenlang to get up from his desk. Take one step. Then another… Then realize what he was doing and return to his seat so quickly it was as if he’d been caught committing a crime. The next day Gao Tu asked him why he looked so guilty. Shen Wenlang nearly fired him.
With time, the problem stopped being the tattoo. That was the worst part. It had started as curiosity. Then it became a habit. Then something else. He started noticing things. How Gao Tu always brought coffee from home. How he left half an hour early every Friday to take his sister to treatment. How he secretly paid for the interns’ lunches. How he remembered people’s birthdays. How he never talked about himself. How he always asked questions and almost never answered them. Shen Wenlang began to realize how much he knew about Gao Tu’s daily life—and how little he knew about the man himself. It annoyed him.
“Maybe it’s a bird.”
“It’s not a bird.”
Shen Wenlang froze.
“So you’re going to tell me after all?”
“No.”
“But you said it’s not a bird.”
“I only said it’s not a bird.”
“So it’s an animal.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“A fish?”
“No.”
“So it’s not a fish.”
“Mr. Shen.”
“What?”
“You’re manipulating the conversation.”
“Is it working?”
“No.”
This went on for two months. By the end, Shen Wenlang only knew that the tattoo was not a bird, fish, dragon, tiger, sword, phoenix, text, world map, or football team logo. It wasn’t particularly helpful.
The worst moment came eleven months after that meeting. They were on a business trip. The hotel had made a mistake with the reservations. Only one suite with two bedrooms remained. Perfectly normal. Perfectly acceptable. Perfectly horrible. Because at one o’clock in the morning, Shen Wenlang got up for water and found Gao Tu on the balcony. In a t-shirt, with damp hair, looking out at the city lights. The tattoo was more visible than ever. Just a little. Enough for Shen Wenlang to make out part of the lines. Beautiful. Elegant. As if something alive was spreading across his skin.
“No.”
Gao Tu’s voice made him jump.
“No what?”
“You can’t look.”
“I wasn’t looking.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You’ve been looking for three minutes.”
Shen Wenlang stayed silent. Gao Tu smiled, then turned back to the city.
“You won’t figure it out.”
“I will.”
“No.”
“I will.”
“Why is it so important?”
The question was asked calmly. And for the first time, Shen Wenlang had no answer. Because the truth was that it had stopped being about the tattoo. It was about the fact that Gao Tu was the only thing in his life he couldn’t file away, analyze, or understand. The only variable that refused to be calculated. The only secret that didn’t belong to him. And maybe that was why he thought about him in the mornings. During meetings. At the airport while waiting for his flight. In hotel rooms when he was completely alone. While signing contracts. While having dinner at his favorite restaurant. While returning to his far-too-quiet apartment. He thought about his smile. His voice. The way he always leaned on his desk and handed him tea. The way he always looked like he knew something others didn’t. About the person behind all the secrets. About Gao Tu. The tattoo was simply the most visible one. And maybe that was what scared Shen Wenlang the most—that the more he learned about Gao Tu, the more he wanted to know. And that after a year, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to see the tattoo… or if he simply wanted Gao Tu to let him get close enough to show it to him himself.
A year later, “No Dress Code Day” came around again. Shen Wenlang knew about it in advance. This time he had read the email. Three times. Not because he cared about corporate culture. And definitely not because he remembered what had happened last year. Absolutely not.
The moment he entered the office, he started looking for Gao Tu. His gaze naturally drifted toward his desk. He wasn’t there. He checked reception, the elevators… Then he saw him. And immediately understood that he had lost.
Gao Tu was wearing a black shirt. With long sleeves. Buttoned almost all the way to the neck. Over it he had draped a light dark-gray jacket. Nothing was visible. Absolutely nothing. Not just the tattoo—even his collarbones were hidden.
Shen Wenlang stared at him for a few seconds. Then a few more.
“Good morning.”
“It’s hot outside.”
“Very hot.”
“And you’re wearing a jacket.”
“I like this jacket.”
“Excellent choice.”
“Thank you.”
Their eyes met. Something familiar flashed in Gao Tu’s brown eyes. Realization. Damn realization. He knew. He knew exactly why Shen Wenlang was commenting on his clothes. And he was clearly enjoying it.
By noon, Shen Wenlang’s mood had become so bad that even the legal department started avoiding his office. Which was impressive—the legal department feared nothing except tax audits.
The truth was much more ridiculous. After a year of waiting, Gao Tu had shown up dressed like someone preparing for a snowstorm. In June.
A little after lunch, Shen Wenlang went out for coffee. As he turned the corner, he overheard a conversation by the window.
“So it’s true?”
“Looks like it.”
“Poor Gao Tu.”
“So many years…” Shen Wenlang stopped. For a moment, something unpleasant tightened in his chest.
“Who are you talking about?”
The two employees jumped and turned pale at the sight of him.
“About Gao Tu.”
Of course. Who else would they be talking about? Shen Wenlang felt something unpleasant twist inside him.
“Really? Interesting.”
“It’s not what you think!”
“And what do I think?”
Neither of them dared to answer.
For the next two hours, Shen Wenlang got absolutely no work done. He only thought. So many years. Poor Gao Tu. He didn’t know, but everyone else clearly did. Other people always knew. At one point he started imagining entire scenarios. Maybe the tattoo was connected to someone. Maybe it had special meaning. Maybe it was dedicated to a person. Maybe… Maybe Gao Tu had told everyone. His friends. His colleagues. Random people in bars. Everyone except him. The thought was so ridiculous it shouldn’t have hurt. But it did. More than he wanted to admit.
At five thirty he pressed the intercom.
“Gao Tu. My office.”
This time he didn’t even pretend it was about work.
“You look angry.”
“Sit.”
Gao Tu settled across from him, calm as always, which only made things worse.
“I heard something interesting today.”
“Congratulations.”
“I’m not joking.”
Shen Wenlang gripped his pen tightly.
“Why does everyone know?”
“Everyone know what?”
“Whatever it is.”
“That helps me enormously.”
“Gao Tu.”
“Shen Wenlang.”
Silence fell. Then Shen Wenlang said:
“I don’t like it.”
“What?”
“This.”
“That still doesn’t help.”
“I don’t like that everyone else knows things about you that I don’t.”
Gao Tu blinked. Just once.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Yes, but I’m not sure I understood.”
“We’ve known each other for years.”
“Yes.”
“For years.”
“Still true.”
“And I keep finding out there are whole parts of your life I have no idea about.”
Gao Tu looked at him silently. Without his usual smile. Without teasing. Just looking. And somehow that was worse.
“This is ridiculous,” Shen Wenlang continued. “I know when your sister has appointments. I know what coffee you drink. I know your favorite restaurant. I know when you’re lying.”
“You don’t.”
“I do.”
“No.”
“I do.”
“Fine.”
“But I don’t know the most important things.”
“What are the most important things?”
“The ones you don’t tell me.”
The silence stretched. Then Gao Tu asked quietly:
“Why is it so important?”
The same question. The one he had asked months ago. Only this time Shen Wenlang was tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of not understanding. Tired of acting like the problem was just some tattoo.
“Because I’m terribly unhappy.”
The words came out on their own. Gao Tu froze.
“What?”
“I’m terribly unhappy.”
“Because of the tattoo?”
“No.”
“Then because of what?”
Shen Wenlang opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. And only then realized it was already too late.
“Because you don’t want to share with me.”
His voice came out quieter than he intended.
“Everyone else can know.”
“Not everyone else.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.”
“To me it doesn’t.”
Gao Tu kept looking at him.
“Shen Wenlang…”
“Forget it.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Then pretend.”
“No.”
For the first time in years, Shen Wenlang felt a genuine desire to disappear. To simply evaporate.
“I didn’t mean to say that.”
“What did you mean to say?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Gao Tu.”
“Why does it hurt you so much?”
Shen Wenlang answered immediately. Too quickly and without thinking about what he was actually saying.
“Because I’m in love with you.”
Silence. Absolute. Terrifying. Shen Wenlang felt his brain stop working.
Then slowly start again. Only to realize what he had just said.
Oh.
Oh no.
Across from him, Gao Tu sat motionless. Not even blinking. After several endless seconds, Shen Wenlang stood up from his chair.
“I’m going to pretend that didn’t happen.”
“Shen—”
“No.”
“Wenlang—”
“No.”
“You just—”
“No.”
“Confessed to me.”
“If you keep talking, I’m going to jump out the window.”
Gao Tu glanced toward the thirty-second floor, then back at him.
“That sounds dangerous.”
For the first time all year, Gao Tu looked as shaken as he was. Which, for some reason, made the situation even more terrifying.
After the confession in the office, chaos ensued. For Shen Wenlang, those were the longest three days of his life. The first day he avoided Gao Tu. The second day Gao Tu avoided him. On the third day, both of them pretended everything was fine. No one believed it. Least of all themselves.
That evening the office was almost empty. Shen Wenlang stayed longer than usual because he wasn’t sure how to go home and live with the memory of his own confession.
When he heard a knock on the door, he didn’t even look up.
“Come in.”
Silence. Then a familiar voice.
“I think we should talk.”
Shen Wenlang closed his eyes. Of course. Sooner or later it would come to this. When he looked up, Gao Tu was standing by the door. No folders. No documents. No work-related reason to be there. Just him.
“If you’re going to say it’s best if we remain colleagues, do it quickly,” said Shen Wenlang.
That made Gao Tu laugh.
“I never had that kind of power.”
“Pity.”
“Why?”
“It would have been easier.”
Gao Tu’s smile faded slightly. He walked over to the desk.
“It’s not easy for me either.”
Those words made Shen Wenlang lift his head.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that for the last three days I haven’t been able to think about anything else.”
His heart skipped.
“Gao Tu…”
“Wait.”
He took a deep breath. Then unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Then another. And another. Shen Wenlang froze. Not because it was provocative, but because he immediately understood what he was doing. After a whole year. After all the arguments. After all the refusals. Gao Tu simply pulled the fabric aside.
“Here.”
For the first time, Shen Wenlang saw the tattoo. It wasn’t a dragon. It wasn’t text. It wasn’t anything dramatic. It was a branch with blooming flowers, drawn with delicate lines that flowed under the collarbone and disappeared beneath the fabric. Beautiful. Unexpectedly tender. Mysterious. Just like the person wearing it.
“This is…” Shen Wenlang began.
“Disappointing?”
“No.”
His voice was quieter than usual.
“It’s beautiful.”
Something flashed in Gao Tu’s eyes. Something happy.
“Thank you.”
Then he smiled softly.
“You know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“I wasn’t hiding the tattoo because of the tattoo itself.”
Shen Wenlang looked at him, confused.
“Then why?”
“Because I liked the way you looked at me.”
“What?”
“You kept finding new excuses to talk to me.”
“Gao Tu…”
“You watched me like a detective.”
“That sounds really bad when you say it like that.”
“Because it was really bad.”
Yet he was still smiling.
“And still… it was nice.”
Shen Wenlang felt something tighten in his chest.
“You’re a terrible person.”
“I know.”
“A whole year.”
“Yes.”
“A whole year you let me wonder.”
“Yes.”
“You’re incredible.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I’ll take it as one.”
For a moment they just looked at each other. Two people who had known each other for so many years that sometimes they forgot how important they had become to one another. Then Gao Tu took another step forward.
“By the way…”
“Yes?”
“I’m in love with you too.”
Shen Wenlang was not prepared for that. Not at all. For a few seconds he simply stared. Then he stood up so abruptly that the chair behind him moved.
“Say it again.”
“No.”
“Gao Tu.”
“You heard me the first time.”
“Say it again.”
His smile widened.
“No.”
The next moment Shen Wenlang was in front of him. One hand found Gao Tu’s shoulder, the other his face. As if he needed to make sure this was real. That he wasn’t imagining it. That the person in front of him had truly chosen him. When he leaned in and kissed him, it was impulsive, impatient, and filled with every word he had swallowed over the past year. Gao Tu was surprised for only a second. Then he smiled against his lips. And that was enough to make Shen Wenlang forget every tattoo in the world. Because he finally had something much more important to focus on.
At least for about thirty seconds. Then he pulled back slightly and looked at the collarbone again.
Gao Tu sighed.
“Incredible.”
“What?”
“You just confessed your love to me. I returned it. We kissed.”
“And yet you’re still looking at the tattoo.”
“Technically, I’ve been waiting to see it for over a year.”
“You’re hopeless.”
“And you’ve been withholding information from management.”
Gao Tu laughed. For the first time in a long time, Shen Wenlang realized he no longer needed to guess. The tattoo was right there. The secrets too. Only now he wasn’t in a hurry to uncover them. Because Gao Tu was still a mystery. And for the first time, he liked that.