Chapter 9: Tailing

The birthday party had been a strange affair. Two-thirds of the guests were people Ren Yu barely knew or had only met a handful of times, so most of the gifts missed the mark entirely. The one exception had come from a man he’d also only met a few times: a kiss. Of all the presents, that was the only one that actually suited his taste.

And right now, the man who’d given it was in the building across the way, calmly reading Borges as usual.

Ren Yu sat on the bed, opened his laptop across his knees, and plugged in the recording pen. The audio file transferred over. His finger hovered for a moment, then clicked play.

The background was a wash of reverb-heavy music, layered with ragged breathing and the wet sounds of tongues tangling.

He hadn’t brought the recording pen today to capture this.

Heat crept up his ears again. Ren Yu right-clicked, moved the cursor to delete, hesitated, then squeezed his eyes shut and snapped the laptop closed.

For the next two days, he deliberately let the matter cool. He didn’t show himself in front of Fang Yingli again. On the surface, the excuse was avoiding suspicion. In truth, he was dodging the awkwardness.

He wasn’t some untouchable flower. If anything, he was the type to live fast, drink now, worry later. The only strange thing was that he’d never felt this way about a target before. It was supposed to be a performance. If he was stupid enough to catch real feelings while wearing a fake identity, that was a completely different story.

But once he’d calmed down, he reasoned it through. A night like that—alcohol, lights, music, a dance floor, a cramped room, plus they were both grown men, so things were bound to happen. An unexpected kiss only meant the other party had needs in the moment. It didn’t necessarily mean those needs were specific to him, and it certainly didn’t signal any interest in something more.

The sound of a car engine cutting off drifted up from below. He parted the curtain and looked down. This was Fang Yingli’s usual time to come home. And as the man stepped out of the car, he was carrying another pet carrier. Inside huddled a dirty little black-and-white dog, which immediately piqued Ren Yu’s interest.

Back home, Fang Yingli pan-seared himself a steak. He seemed like the type who could cook well—every step calculated, elegant, the knife flashing cold as he sliced with precision. The steak was medium rare, and each cut through the fibers squeezed out blood-tinged juice.

It reminded Ren Yu of those gruesome dog-abuse photos in the community group chat.

After dinner, Fang Yingli picked up the carrier and headed out again.

With no way to track his destination, Ren Yu fell back on the oldest method in the book: following. He pulled on a baseball cap, yanked the brim low, and went after him, hailing a cab.

“Driver, follow that car up ahead.”

The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror and unhurriedly flipped down the fare meter, speaking with some unplaceable accent. “Lay off the Hong Kong movies, eh.”

Ren Yu was speechless. Fang Yingli’s black Audi A4L made a right turn and vanished from view. Ren Yu grabbed the back of the front seat. “Hurry, come on!”

The driver shifted gears and stomped the accelerator, slamming Ren Yu into the seatback hard enough to embed him.

“…”

“Not bad, eh. Em keepin’ up fine.”

Fang Yingli’s car stopped outside a pet center. Ren Yu deliberately waited a block away, and only once the man had gone inside did he get out. The driver’s skills were something else. Ren Yu half-suspected he’d done stunt driving on a film set. Either way, Ren Yu now felt like throwing up.

He tugged the brim of his cap lower and approached the pet center. From outside, he couldn’t spot Fang Yingli. His stomach tightened, and he stepped inside.

It was a full-service pet facility—medical, grooming, sales, boarding. It looked entirely legitimate, not the kind of place where the horrors he’d imagined could happen. Just as he’d begun to relax and turned to leave, a voice came from behind him.

“Boss Ren. What a coincidence.”

Ren Yu shut his eyes, inhaled deeply, then turned around with a natural smile. “Mr. Fang.”

He noticed the carrier in Fang Yingli’s hand was empty.

“May I ask what brings you here…?” Fang Yingli paused with deliberate subtlety, as though he’d sensed the real purpose of Ren Yu’s visit and was content to wait for the answer.

Following you, Ren Yu thought. But he couldn’t say that.

The faint smell of animal waste drifted over, and the nausea surged. Ren Yu’s throat worked as he scanned desperately for an answer. Everyone here was either carrying a carrier or holding a cat or dog. He was the only one empty-handed.

In that quick survey, he spotted the little dog Fang Yingli had taken away the day they’d sparred at the fight club. It was washed clean now, bouncing around in a glass display case.

“I’m thinking of getting a pet.” Ren Yu finally answered.

“Dog or cat?” Fang Yingli asked, his gaze traveling from the lowered brim of the cap to the lips he’d kissed whose texture, he remembered, was even better than it looked.

Cats were too delicate. A dog would be better. He could use dog walks as an excuse to run into Fang Yingli.

“A dog.”

“Smart or dumb?”

“Smart is better. I like smart ones.”

“I’d suggest a German Shepherd or a Border Collie.” Fang Yingli said. “This place belongs to a friend. Mention my name and you get 20 percent off.”

The smile at the corners of his eyes carried a hidden edge, making it sound like a joke at Ren Yu’s expense.

It wasn’t until a handler pressed a leash into his palm that Ren Yu realized the discount was real, and that he’d just boosted someone else’s sales numbers.

A fluffy black German Shepherd puppy sat on the floor, head tilted, dark eyes fixed on its new owner. One ear hadn’t stood up yet and drooped adorably over its forehead. Apparently he’d also need to buy a dog bed, food, and pee pads.

Fang Yingli ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek, clearly enjoying the show. “Enjoy your shopping, Boss Ren. I’ll be off.”

Ren Yu never made a losing deal. He’d already spent the money; no way he was leaving without getting the man’s WeChat. He stepped into Fang Yingli’s path. Fang Yingli turned his head, frowning slightly, waiting.

Ren Yu’s lips parted. His face had gone pale.

The next second, his throat convulsed. He grabbed Fang Yingli’s arm for balance and retched at his feet.

“…”

“…”

In the break room, Fang Yingli leaned back in his chair, watching with undisguised interest as Ren Yu tipped his head back and chugged water. His Adam’s apple was round, like a small date pit. The rims of his eyes were still flushed, and his skin had gone pink from the force of being sick.

Pale-skinned people always did that, looking delicate, fragile. He probably cries in bed.

When Ren Yu lowered the bottle and caught Fang Yingli’s amused gaze, he could practically read the words “enjoying your misery” written across his face.

“Sorry.” Ren Yu glanced down at the stains on the man’s shoes.

“Do you need a hospital?”

“No.”

It was just motion sickness. Though he could hardly explain that he’d made himself sick chasing the man’s car.

He offered an explanation that fooled no one: “The AC in here is probably too cold.”

Fang Yingli propped his chin on his hand, still impassive. “Shame.”

“Shame about what?”

“If I was wearing something else, I’d probably offer you the shirt off my back.” Fang Yingli stood. He was wearing a loose-fitting casual shirt today, pale beige, softening the sharp edges beneath and lending him a lazy air. “But this is all I’ve got on.”

Ren Yu knew he looked a mess. He’d dirtied the man’s shoes and wasted his time. Asking for a favor now seemed like a long shot, but he raised his phone anyway. “The shirt doesn’t matter. I was just wondering if I could add you on WeChat.”

Fang Yingli looked over, his eyes like deep, unreadable water.

Ren Yu couldn’t parse it, so he added, “For dry cleaning. Once you get the shoes cleaned, I’ll transfer you the money.”

Fang Yingli said nothing either way, but held up a QR code. Ren Yu scanned it. As Fang Yingli walked out the door, Ren Yu sent the friend request.

Simply putting “I’m Ren Yu” would’ve been too ordinary. Fang Yingli had every reason to ignore or reject it.

But for a man who enjoys puzzle games, the urge to solve a challenge should override everything else.

So his friend request read: 1+0=?

It went unanswered.

Under the glaring sun, Ren Yu checked his phone again and again. Nothing. Then, as he was hauling bags of supplies and leading the little Shepherd unsteadily into the complex, his phone buzzed twice.

Fang Yingli accepted your friend request.

Along with the answer: θ.