Straight Man Gets Reincarnated into an ABO Novel and Ends Up with His Rival - Chapter 13

Wang Bupo stood under the sun, his head spinning a little, an outer jacket drenched in Fu Jing’s pheromones draped over him, staring at the dark, aging apartment building before him.

That morning, the old building they lived in had suffered an electrical explosion.

The entire block caught fire. Fortunately, the firefighters arrived in time and evacuated the residents.

A few residents suffered minor burns, but thankfully, no one was seriously injured or killed.

The building, however, was now uninhabitable, and all the residents had been relocated.

Several delivery trucks lined the street as residents moved out their undamaged belongings.

Fu Jing had instructed Wang Bupo to wait downstairs. Soon, Fu Jing came down carrying a slightly charred, but largely intact, snakeskin bag.

Wang Bupo peeked inside. Their documents, buried at the bottom, were safe, and most of their clothes were fine only the ones left out to dry had been damaged.

They hadn’t had many clothes to begin with; now, there were even fewer.

The two sat on a park bench. Wang Bupo slouched, covering his head with his jacket in a “Little Red Riding Hood” fashion, while Fu Jing calmly scrolled on his phone, searching for a new place to live.

Passersby cast curious glances at the striking pair: one with a carefree, rakish charm, the other distant and noble-looking.

At their feet lay a snakeskin bag that seemed out of place with their looks, yet oddly captivating.

Some young onlookers considered stopping to chat, but quickly reconsidered upon seeing the two so focused on the phone.

No one dared interrupt.

“Any two-bedroom apartments nearby for rent?” Wang Bupo squinted into the sunlight, adjusting his jacket to shield both his eyes and the glare on Fu Jing’s phone, wanting to see the listings.

“There are some,” Fu Jing said, frowning. “But the rent starts at 4,000 yuan.”

“Per month?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing cheaper? Our old dump was just 800 a month.”

“That complex is old, plus the place we rented was only twenty square meters with a toilet and a tiny balcony, no living room,” Fu Jing explained. “This area is near a school, so rent is high. There are cheaper places, but no other units are available here. Everywhere else around is expensive.”

“And… one-bedroom apartments?”

“Three thousand.”

Three thousand. In the past, even thirty thousand, three hundred thousand, or three million—they might have spent it without blinking. But now, they hesitated. Three thousand was worth two months’ living expenses.

“Let me see.” Wang Bupo took the phone, scrolling through listings.

“How about this? Two-bedroom, one bathroom, fully furnished, 2,100 a month…”

Fu Jing glanced at it. “Xingfu Apartments?”

“Far from your school?”

“There’s a direct subway line, thirteen stops.”

“Uh, then maybe this one, closer to school… one-bedroom, one bathroom…”

“Let’s go with the two-bedroom.” Fu Jing interrupted.

“The lease is for six months, with monthly installments or full payment upfront. Here’s the contract. Take a look if all’s good, sign it, and you can move in.”

Wang Bupo and Fu Jing examined the apartment and quickly signed.

The place was far better than their previous rental: roughly 80–90 square meters, clean and well-kept, with new furniture covered in dust sheets.

A light gray fabric double sofa and two single sofas filled the living room. Above hung a projector; below, a dark gray rug under a white coffee table.

A small bar and semi-open kitchen occupied a corner, with two barstools.

Two bedrooms flanked the space, each with built-in beige wardrobes. The bathroom was split into wet and dry areas, with a modest bathtub.

Near the balcony sat a lounge chair, with a low cabinet behind it. Outside, the balcony housed a washing machine beneath a mounted storage cabinet.

On the 17th floor, the balcony offered a view of lush greenery and a manmade lake.

“This apartment was originally bought by a couple for their daughter’s commute. But she was sent abroad by her company after only a couple of days. She’ll need to spend a few years overseas before returning. The couple are old friends, and I’ve known the daughter since she was young, so they asked me to rent it to trustworthy tenants. You contacted me immediately after the listing went up, so I think it’s fate.”

The middle-aged agent smiled warmly at the clean-cut, handsome young men, clearly confident in renting the apartment to them.

Wang Bupo decided to quickly stow their belongings, opening a bag to find two red booklets on top.

Feeling guilty, he glanced at Fu Jing, still talking with the agent, trying to hide the booklets somewhere out of sight.

“Are you a couple?” the agent suddenly asked.

“We…” Fu Jing froze.

“NO!!!” Wang Bupo shouted without thinking, startling both Fu Jing and the agent.

The agent’s gaze then fell on the red booklets in Wang Bupo’s hands.

Ah—so not a couple, but married.

The agent’s expression softened into an affectionate smile.

Realizing what he was holding, Wang Bupo hurriedly hid the booklets behind him, then awkwardly added, “Uh… how did my parents’ marriage certificates end up in here…”

One… two… three seconds passed. No response.

Fu Jing twitched at the corner of his mouth, watching him like he was a fool.

The agent’s expression said it all: I get it, I get it.

“Uncle, we’re just good brothers…” Wang Bupo muttered, still trying to explain after the agent left.

He glanced at Fu Jing, who was watching him coldly by the door, clearly annoyed that the agent had misunderstood their relationship.

Sheepishly scratching his head, Wang Bupo thought: I wasn’t trying to make him misunderstand… I explained, but he didn’t believe me.

Holding the two marriage certificates, Wang Bupo didn’t know whether to keep them or hide them. He hoped Fu Jing wouldn’t get angry and insist on divorcing now.

Though they were both straight men who would eventually divorce, Wang Bupo knew this wasn’t the time. Fu Jing was cold, and Wang Bupo was broke and sick if they divorced now, Fu Jing might just leave him to fend for himself.

But Fu Jing didn’t say anything. He simply turned to organize their luggage.

Wang Bupo quietly tucked the two red booklets under the nightstand, out of sight.