Secret Incident (BL) - Chapter 5
Ethan Fane had been acting since he was too young to even recognize all the words in his scripts, memorizing long monologues before he could fully comprehend them.
But reciting lines wasn’t enough—they had to be delivered with emotion.
At seven or eight years old, when he didn’t yet understand how to express emotions, he learned in the most direct way possible.
To cry? He would submerge his face in water until he could barely breathe, forcing himself into a state of raw desperation that made sorrowful lines sound gut-wrenching.
To look happy? He studied himself in the mirror, adjusting the curve of his smile to find the most aesthetically pleasing angle.
To express anger? He only understood it when someone held his head down and pressed it against a wall, making him struggle.
During breaks, he would fixate on two bright spots and train his eyes to move, perfecting the ability to create an intense, piercing gaze.
People praised his “natural talent.”
But behind closed doors, it had been nothing but endless refinement.
So by the time he grew up, Ethan was little more than an empty shell—capable of injecting any emotion into his face, regardless of whether it came from the heart.
For example—
On a certain morning, when a man, whose appearance had made Ethan’s heart flutter at first glance, stood at his doorway and greeted him with a “good morning”—
His mind went blank for a split second.
A hundred versions of “What does he mean? What does he mean? What does he mean?” flashed through his brain.
Yet, on his face, his expression remained composed.
He smiled—polite, appropriate, flawless.
Ethan didn’t reach for the breakfast bag, but he also didn’t refuse it. Instead, he responded with a courteous, “Thank you for the breakfast.”
Then, he let go of the doorknob and stepped back into his room, subtly increasing the distance between them.
The movement unintentionally resembled an invitation—an open invitation for Liam Jun to step inside.
By the time Ethan realized the mistake in his body language, it was too late.
The door remained open, and he was standing just beside it, leaving the path clear.
Liam didn’t hesitate.
He simply accepted the unspoken invitation and walked in.
For a brief moment, as they brushed past each other, their senses heightened.
The stagnant heat of the hallway mixed with the crisp chill of the 17°C air-conditioned room.
The faint scent of tea drifted from the breakfast bag, mingling with the light sheen of sweat on their skin.
Ethan felt weightless for a moment—his mind momentarily empty, unsure of which emotion to shift into.
Meanwhile, Liam was thinking—
Nice room.
Spacious, with a living area, a balcony, and a much larger bed and sofa than the standard rooms downstairs.
Without stopping, Liam walked straight to the coffee table, placed the breakfast down, and—without a second thought—grabbed the air conditioner remote.
He turned up the temperature.
Then, after setting the remote down, he finally looked at Ethan, who was still standing by the door.
“Eat your breakfast,” Liam said.
No explanation. No formalities. No effort to soften the delivery.
Anyone listening in would have assumed they were close acquaintances.
Yet, in reality, this was only their third meeting.
With the composure of a boss inspecting an employee’s workspace, Liam said his piece, then walked past the table and headed toward the balcony.
The moment Liam turned his back, Ethan felt a brief sense of relief.
His gaze flicked between the breakfast bag and the air conditioner remote, utterly baffled.
He blinked a few times, collecting himself.
And just as Liam slid open the balcony door, Ethan’s emotional channeling finally recalibrated.
A smirk formed, and his voice sharpened slightly as he remarked, “Mr. Jun, you’re certainly not shy.”
Sunlight and warmth poured into the room as Liam turned his head slightly, his expression calm.
The dust particles in the light became visible, swirling in the air.
Ethan suddenly felt a strange sense of warmth—something induced purely by sight.
Something odd enough to almost throw off his carefully controlled expressions again.
“Apologies. Occupational habit,” Liam said with an almost bureaucratic smile. “In tourism development, whenever we arrive in a new place, we instinctively assess the surrounding scenery. This balcony seems to offer the best view of Pening Harbor. Would it be alright if I borrowed it for a moment?”
Ethan raised an eyebrow, then shrugged with a smirk.
He gestured toward the balcony in an exaggerated “go ahead” motion.
He wasn’t annoyed.
Though he did think, “It’s just the fifth floor. What’s there to ‘overlook’?”
Ethan Fane sat on the sofa, pretending to be completely at ease.
Yet, every so often, he glanced toward Liam Jun, watching as he actually stepped out onto the balcony and began taking photos with his phone.
His thoughts began to churn.
He suspected that Liam’s excuse was just that—an excuse.
Ethan had never lacked admirers.
Their genders and ages varied widely.
At first, he thought it was just because he had filmed too many romance dramas, to the point where his emotions became overstimulated. He had always been the immersive type—once he threw himself into a role, fully detaching afterward was an exhausting, all-consuming process.
Gradually, it became harder and harder for him to feel any real emotional stirrings.
He had never accepted any romantic advances.
And when he finally realized his own preferences skewed outside the norm, he became even more cautious—never allowing himself to entertain any ideas.
Are you kidding? In this industry, being openly gay means career suicide. No more roles. No more work.
Ethan had always kept this warning engraved in his mind.
He was still too young.
When Liam reentered from the balcony and stepped closer, he said, “Thank you.”
It sounded almost like concern.
Liam continued, “I saw a small clinic nearby. I’ll go with you to see a doctor.”
Then, as if adding a casual afterthought, he said, “But you should eat something first.”
He settled into the single-seater armchair beside the sofa, glancing at the breakfast on the table. “This is from a stall downstairs. Or do you want something else?”
The warning in Ethan’s mind shifted from forefront to backburner.
He leaned back lazily into the chair, the corners of his lips curving up slightly. “I’m fine. I just need to drink more water.”
But inside, his thoughts were running wild—
What does he mean? What does he mean?
Is he actually trying to pursue me?!
A six-dollar bowl of noodles and two tea eggs, and he has the nerve?!
His internal monologue bounced erratically.
It wasn’t that he disliked the breakfast—it was more that this older man seemed… off.
Too good at playing it cool.
Because honestly—who shows up at someone’s door this early in the morning if they’re not trying to flirt?
Ethan told himself, Whatever. I’m bored anyway.
Might as well play along.
Just for a few days.
So, he accepted the breakfast cheerfully, thanked Liam sincerely, and refused to see a doctor in the most pitiful-yet-charming manner he could muster.
He felt he had performed well.
His self-designated role?
A down-to-earth, approachable movie star.
…Except the act fell apart almost immediately.
Or rather, it had never really been convincing in the first place.
Liam suddenly asked, “Were you about to head out?”
Ethan nodded. “I was going downstairs to buy water.”
Then, he added with just the right touch of humility, “Zhao-jie and A-Jian run this whole place by themselves. They’re busy enough already—I don’t want to keep bothering them for little things.”
“I’ll go buy it,” Liam said, standing up without hesitation.
Then, before Ethan could respond, he added, “Do you want some congee?”
Ethan stood up as well, instinctively responding, “How could I trouble you—”
Mid-sentence, he followed Liam’s gaze.
It landed on the trash bin beside the coffee table.
Ethan’s smile faltered.
His words trailed off.
Inside the trash bin—
Were the imported wax apples he had tossed the night before.
He had never liked them. Couldn’t get used to the taste.
But in front of Zhao-jie, he had acted like he was grateful, like he loved them, like he would enjoy every bite.
Then, as soon as he returned to his room—he had thrown them away.
That’s just who he was. A professional.
But he hadn’t expected to get caught.
When he looked up, he saw the subtle smirk on Liam’s face.
It wasn’t quite a taunt.
But it felt worse than harsh criticism of his acting.
It was worse than a bad review.
Ethan scrambled to come up with an excuse—something, anything—
But Liam spoke first.
“Don’t throw away the breakfast I bought,” he said matter-of-factly. “If you don’t eat it, I’ll have it later.”
Liam was still smiling.
But Ethan couldn’t read the meaning behind it.
Liam turned to leave.
He didn’t linger, didn’t press, didn’t let his gaze linger on Ethan even for a second longer.
As he opened the door, he added casually, “The tea eggs aren’t bad. That stall was pretty clean. If you get hungry, eat something first.”
And then, he walked out.