That Man Is a Little Wild - Chapter 9

Li Cang couldn’t sleep a wink on the plane. His back ached, his waist hurt, and even first-class comfort couldn’t ease the pain.

After three long hours, the plane finally landed.

Following the crowd toward the exit, he yawned three times in a row.

He rubbed away the tears forming at the corners of his eyes and lazily answered his buzzing phone.
“I’m tired. Don’t come pick me up, I’ll take a cab.”

“Go where?” A woman’s voice came from the other end. “You’re out of town?”

Li Cang paused and glanced down at his phone screen at an unfamiliar number with no name attached.

“What is it?” he asked, his tone flat.

“Your Uncle Liu’s birthday is next week, and you.”

Before she could finish, Li Cang cut her off.
“An openly gay son with a ‘chaotic private life’, are you sure your new husband even wants to see me?”

There was a short silence on the other end before she replied, “Come or don’t. It’s up to you.”

The call ended. Li Cang stood there for a moment, unmoving.

“Cang’er!”

A loud, familiar voice broke through the noise.

At the exit stood Fan Yuanju, decked out in a loud floral shirt and black sunglasses, standing out in the crowd like he was born to draw attention.

“Sunglasses at night?” Li Cang walked over and tossed his bag at him. “Haven’t seen me in a few days and already gone blind?”

“Go to hell,” Fan Yuanju grumbled, catching the bag and falling into step beside him. He gave Li Cang a discreet once-over. “You’re really not coming tonight?”

Li Cang gave a vague hum. “Too tired. Don’t feel like it.”

Fan took off his sunglasses and immediately noticed the faint marks scattered along Li Cang’s neck.

This guy had the nerve to walk through the airport like that, completely unbothered.

“Damn,” Fan whistled, circling aim. “Whoever that guy was, he’s got one hell of a possessive streak. You’re not afraid he’ll come hunting you down?”

Li Cang snatched the sunglasses and put them on himself, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “He can try  if he can find me.”

Fan grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. “Legend.”

In the car, Li Cang slumped against the back seat. A flash of last night crossed his mind, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“What’s with that dirty smile?” Fan asked, buckling his seatbelt and glancing back at him.

“Takes one to know one,” Li Cang shot back, resting his fingers on his brow.
Images surfaced that man’s gaze, his quiet voice, and the way he leaned in to kiss him.

Damn it.

He sat up abruptly and rolled the window down, letting the cold night air hit his face.

“Sure, you don’t want to come hang out?” Fan asked, starting the engine. Then he made a quick call, tossed the phone into Li Cang’s lap, and said, “Tell them yourself  everyone’s waiting for you.”

Li Cang sighed, lifting the phone to his ear. “Depends on how fast you drive. If you’re slow, they’ll just have to wait.”The fann laughed and floored the accelerator.

“Slow down, you maniac!” Li Cang shouted.

Laughter erupted through the phone. “Hey, Ma, your Cang-ge wants you to take it easy!”

“Shut up,” Li Cang said, hanging up, but his mood had lightened.

Outside, the city lights streamed past the window. He traced a small circle, a perfect little period in the fogged glass with his fingertip.

It’s over.
Everything new, everything old, all of it.

When they reached his place, Li Cang had a slight buzz but wasn’t drunk. His stomach was already aching from the night before.

Fan, ever the trickster, refused to drink at all, insisting he was “preserving his figure” for his “second spring.”

“Second spring, my ass,” Li Cang had muttered.

By the end of the night, Fan was driving him home.

At the door, Fan pointed to a small box by the entrance. “What’s this?”

Li Cang, halfway through changing shoes, glanced over. “It was supposed to be a gift for…” He frowned. “Forget it. Toss it.”

Curious, Fan opened it to a neat collection of ties and designer colognes.

“You really went all out for that idiot,” he said, picking up a bottle and sniffing it before putting it back.

“It was for you, idiot,” Li Cang said from the other room, his voice lazy. “Birthday present.”

“Bullshit,” Fan barked a laugh.

“Believe what you want.”

When Li Cang came out of the shower, Fan was unpacking takeout. The coffee table was covered with bowls of porridge, millet, pumpkin, red bean, red date, and even one unrecognizable mix.

Li Cang frowned. “Your dad bankrupt or something?”

“Shut up,” Fan grumbled, handing him a spoon. “Take care of yourself, all right? I cleared out the booze in your fridge. You can drink again in two weeks. Eat, then sleep.”

Li Cang took the spoon, sat quietly on the couch, and took a sip of porridge.

“Xiao Ma,” he said softly, using Fan’s nickname.

“Yeah?”

Li Cang stirred the bottom of his bowl.

“It wasn’t me who ended it.”

He looked up with a faint smile, one that couldn’t quite hide the weariness underneath.

“They always leave first.”