Ten

'You okay, Lao Wang?' Zhou Yang hurried over, crouching to check Wang Mingzhe's foot. 'I thought your foot was healed just now!'

'No, I was just too shocked...' Wang Mingzhe caught his breath, still hung up on the online dating thing. 'Gu-ge, you're not really doing online dating, are you?'

Gu Zhao's expression didn't change: 'None of your business.'

'Holy shit, he didn't deny it!' Wang Mingzhe got so worked up he nearly stood again. 'Not denying is the same as admitting!'

Gu Zhao said, his tone flat as ever: 'Looks like your foot's fine. Take a couple steps and try it?'

Wang Mingzhe didn't fall for it: 'Don't try to change the subject!'

'Gu-ge, this is a good thing! We all thought you'd die alone—' Zhou Yang slammed the brakes. 'No, I mean we all thought you'd never date anyone!'

Gu Zhao was silent for a few seconds. His thin lips parted and dropped two words: 'Not dating.'

'I get it, I get it — you're still in the online phase before meeting in person, right?' Wang Mingzhe, thinking he'd figured it out, launched into interrogation mode again. 'How'd you two meet? Is the girl pretty? How old? Which school—'

'Too many questions.' Gu Zhao cut him off directly, picked up his phone, and headed toward the Balcony.

'Hey, don't leave!' Wang Mingzhe waved urgently after him.

Gu Zhao turned to look at him: 'If you've got the guts, come over here yourself.'

'Gu-ge, you you you...' Wang Mingzhe clutched his leg with a face full of grief and indignation. 'You're bullying someone who got heroically injured for the team's honor — where's your conscience?'

'Conscience?' Gu Zhao gave a cold laugh. 'What thing is that?'

After saying that, ignoring the howls behind him, he slid the Balcony door open and stepped out.

Tapping into the WeChat conversation that hadn't been closed, he discovered Mengmeng had sent another message.

Mengmeng: [I'll wear the new skirt tomorrow and take a photo for xuesheng to see, okay?]

G: [Okay, I'll be waiting.]

Mengmeng: [What did xuesheng do today?]

G: [Nothing special.]

Mengmeng: [How could there be nothing special? Every day's sun is a new sun, so every day is a special day!]

Gu Zhao's finger lingered on the screen for a long while, suddenly unsure what to reply.

Mengmeng: [If xuesheng thinks today was ordinary, then Mengmeng will give xuesheng a special gift~]

Gu Zhao's brow lifted slightly; in those usually emotionless dark eyes, a rare flicker of interest surfaced.

G: [What gift?]

A few seconds later, Mengmeng sent over several stickers in a row.

Mengmeng: [Let me show you something.jpg]

Mengmeng: [Hold on, let me find it.jpg]

Mengmeng: [Pulls out middle finger.jpg]

G: [?]

Mengmeng: [Haha grabbed the wrong one.jpg]

Mengmeng: [Pulls out a flower.jpg]

G: [...]

Mengmeng: [Xuesheng, just say whether this gift is special or not?]

G: [Mm, special.]

Mengmeng: [Just kidding, the real gift is tomorrow!]

G: [Then why tell me today?]

Mengmeng: [Because I want xuesheng to be happy today too~]

Mengmeng: [Hope xuesheng is happy every day!]

Gu Zhao leaned against the Balcony railing; the light from his phone screen reflected in his pitch-dark eyes, like scattered stars drifting in a boundless universe.

The early-summer night breeze was faintly cool, stirring the hair at his brow — and seemingly stirring something else as well.

After a long moment, the corner of Gu Zhao's lips lifted, curving into a smile.

*

Monday. Ji Su sat through classes all day.

After dinner, he returned to the Dormitory. Before he could sit down and rest for even a moment, Qiao Jin's urging came from behind him: 'Su-su, the black stockings!'

Ji Su said helplessly: 'Can't you let me rest for a bit first?'

'I'm doing this for your own good — otherwise once Zhao Ziyun and Li You get back, you won't be able to put them on.' Qiao Jin considered the matter very thoroughly. 'Quick quick quick, the sooner you put them on, the sooner it's done!'

Ji Su vaguely sensed something was off and raised his eyes: 'Xiao Qiao, why are you so eager?'

'Because I just want to see you wear—' Qiao Jin's mouth outpaced his brain; once he realized what he'd said, he quickly corrected himself. 'Isn't this all so you can take down that scumbag sooner and get revenge for xuejie?'

Ji Su fixed him with a suspicious stare: 'Really?'

'Of course, how could it be fake?' The more Qiao Jin spoke, the more conviction he found. 'Besides, you've already worn the white stockings — what's the big deal about one more pair of black ones?'

Ji Su: '...'

Qiao Jin: 'Maybe the scumbag is into this kind of thing!'

'Fine.' Ji Su opened the wardrobe, dug out the white skirt and black stockings he'd bought yesterday from the very back, his mood exceedingly complex.

As a straight man, he certainly knew plenty of men liked black stockings — he just never imagined the day would come when he'd be putting them on himself, to photograph for another man to see...

Ji Su took the skirt into the bathroom, peeled off his shirt and jeans, and tried to figure out how the dress was supposed to go on.

A few minutes later, he had no choice but to call for help: 'Xiao Qiao, come in and help me for a sec.'

Qiao Jin answered: 'Coming, coming!'

Pushing open the bathroom door, Qiao Jin's steps froze mid-stride.

Ji Su stood with his back to him in the bathroom. The white strapless dress bared his straight, slender shoulders; the lovely butterfly bones were half-revealed, half-hidden; the waist, slim enough to be held in one hand, flowed down into rounded, full hips, and below that — a pair of legs pale and long...

'Xiao Qiao?' Ji Su, covering his chest, turned to the side. 'Help me zip up the back.'

"Oh oh oh!" Qiao Jin snapped back to attention, hurrying forward to pull the zipper all the way up for him.

"Thanks." Ji Su sat down on a chair, bent over, and began pulling on the black stockings.

The stockings were thin and sheer; he eased them on with great care, afraid of snagging a hole.

Qiao Jin swallowed — not that anyone would have noticed — and pulled open the bathroom door: "Come on, let's go to the bed."

After this stretch of training, Ji Su had grown practiced at striking poses for the camera; before long he'd produced a set of shots that satisfied Director Qiao.

"Susu, if you opened an account on Bluebird and posted these shots, you'd blow up for sure." Qiao Jin flipped through the photos. "The bloggers I follow — their stuff is way worse than yours."

"Hm?" Ji Su tilted his face up slightly. "What's Bluebird?"

"Bluebird is, uh, a social platform where you can... get into the spicy stuff." Qiao Jin clicked his tongue, a touch regretful. "If you put these photos up there, they'd sell like crazy!"

Ji Su: "..."

Qiao Jin ventured: "I mean, your face isn't showing, so what if—"

"Hold it right there!" Ji Su stood up, hopped off the bed, and snatched his phone back. "I'm a straight man — if these photos get out, how am I supposed to face anyone?"

"I know, I know, I was only joking." Qiao Jin grinned. "Hurry up and send the photos to the scumbag — let's see how he reacts!"

Ji Su logged into his secondary WeChat account and opened the chat with G.

Mengmeng: [Senior, ready to receive your special gift?]

Even after the last time he'd been tricked, the other side replied instantly.

G: [Mm.]

Ji Su gritted his teeth and sent over the photos he'd just taken.

The person in the photos knelt on the bed, wearing a pure-white dress; the silk clung smooth against skin pale as jade, tracing out curves full and inviting.

The slender, straight legs were sheathed in black stockings, the faint blush of skin showing through; the lace trim bit into the thighs, but the dress was so short it bared a stretch of pale, bare leg — the inner thighs pressed shyly together, and a pair of long, lovely hands rested between them, as if trying to hide something, which only made one want all the more to pry them apart and see what lay beneath...

After sending the photos, Ji Su waited two minutes — and received no reply at all.

"No way?" Qiao Jin's eyes went wide. "Nothing? Is the scumbag impotent or something?"

Ji Su's brow furrowed slightly. "Maybe he doesn't like black stockings?"

Mengmeng: [Senior doesn't like this gift?]

Mengmeng: [crying cat.jpg]

G: [I like them.]

"He replied." Ji Su blinked his lashes. "He said he likes them."

"That's it?" Qiao Jin's face was full of disbelief. "What kind of reaction is that? Way too cold."

Ji Su was still thinking about how to reply when a transfer notification popped up on WeChat.

G: [WeChat Transfer ¥52,000.00]

Ji Su didn't look closely; he just held up his phone screen: "He transferred money to me."

"Holy shit, what's this move?" Qiao Jin's eyes were glued to the screen as he counted under his breath: "ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, ten thousands—"

He rubbed his eyes in disbelief, counted again, and couldn't help exclaiming: "How much? Fifty-two thousand?"

Ji Su blinked. "That much?"

He pulled his phone back and caught the next message just in time.

G: [Very pretty. I like them very much.]

G: [Buy a few more new ones.]

Ji Su: "..."

What did that mean? He'd gotten hooked?

Mengmeng: [Nooo, I've already bought so many!]

G: [This one looks more like sleepwear — not suitable for wearing outside.]

Only then did Ji Su catch on: the scumbag wanted to monopolize Mengmeng's black stockings, which was why he'd sent the money — so Mengmeng would buy a few new dresses.

Hah. Dream on.

Mengmeng: [Hmph, how is it like sleepwear at all?]

G: [You said it was a special gift for me, but if other people have seen it too, what kind of gift is that?]

Ji Su: "..."

Such airtight logic — for the moment, he couldn't find a comeback.

"Wait—" Qiao Jin finally came back from his shock. "Large transfers like that can be recalled, unless the transfer note says it's a voluntary gift!"

Ji Su glanced at the screen. "He added a note."

Qiao Jin's mouth opened, closed, opened again, and finally he pronounced: "The scumbag has fallen in love!"

Ji Su's expression was complicated. "Has he?"

Qiao Jin declared with conviction: "Where the money goes, the love follows!"

Ji Su, thoroughly baffled: "But he hasn't even seen Mengmeng's face — how could he possibly—"

"With legs like yours, does it matter what the face looks like?" Qiao Jin clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Fifty-two thousand, fifty-two thousand — if that isn't love, what is?"

Ji Su thought of the scam-news articles he'd seen lately and asked carefully: "Is there a chance he's actually using Mengmeng to launder money?"

It was a possibility neither of them had ever considered; Qiao Jin froze for a moment: "Huh?"

Just then, a new message came from the other side.

G: [Mengmeng, are you angry?]

Mengmeng: [Hmph!]

G: [I'm not trying to control what you wear. You just don't know how filthy men's minds can be.]

Ji Su: "?"