Chapter 27: Dionysus (7)

Based on Tan Zhao’s understanding of Wen Mingwei, there was no need to schedule dates in advance; Wen Mingwei was almost always free.

They settled on the itinerary that same night, browsing a review app together to pick a highly-rated date spot. This idea was Tan Zhao’s. The young master believed the essence of dating lay in the sense of ritual, so whether the food was delicious mattered less than a romantic, atmospheric environment.

Thus, he abandoned all the high-end restaurants he knew by heart and chose the top-rated spot from the app’s "Top Ten Must-Visit Romantic Date Destinations." He showed it to Wen Mingwei: "How about this one? It looks pretty good."

Wen Mingwei glanced at his phone, dazzled by the screen full of pink balloons, crystal chandeliers, and sparkling star-field decorations. He fell silent for a moment. "You like this kind of thing?"

"It’s alright," Tan Zhao replied. "I wouldn't say I love it, but I feel like a couple's restaurant should be like this. It fits my stereotype of what a date should be."

Wen Mingwei: "..."

He was self-aware enough to call it a stereotype.

Despite saying that, Tan Zhao scrolled through the list with great enthusiasm, eventually ditching that restaurant for a couple-themed hotel that was even more "stereotypical."

They set the time for the afternoon, planning to have dinner first, followed by entertainment arranged by the hotel in the evening—reportedly a couple’s interactive play, similar to a two-player escape game, which included a "Truth" segment. Tan Zhao openly admitted that was exactly why he chose it; he wanted to dig up all of Wen Mingwei’s secrets. Finally, they would spend the night in a couple’s suite to put a period on the perfect date.

Once the plan was set, Tan Zhao started picking out clothes, determined that they should wear matching outfits.

"Isn't that taking the stereotype a bit too far?"

Wen Mingwei laughed. "Most of our wardrobes are black and white. Just pick any two pieces and we'll look like a couple."

"Fine."

Tan Zhao was persuaded and finally stopped fidgeting. He realized his reaction seemed a bit overly excited, which was embarrassing. But the way to regain one's dignity wasn't necessarily by explaining oneself—it could also be by turning the tables and accusing the other person.

"Why are you so indifferent?" He poked Wen Mingwei’s cheek. "It’s our first date. Aren't you nervous?"

"Not really."

Wen Mingwei said earnestly, "Every day I spend with you feels like a date. I’m used to it."

Tan Zhao: "..."

Such an unrefined pickup line, yet somehow, he loved hearing it. The corners of Tan Zhao’s mouth curled up for the rest of the evening, impossible to suppress.

Because they went to bed so late, they didn't wake up until after ten the next day. They had a simple brunch at home and handled some work, so it was already past four in the afternoon by the time they set off for the couple’s hotel.

Tan Zhao was driving. Passing a flower shop on the way, he bought a bouquet of roses for Wen Mingwei on a whim, claiming it was to commemorate their first date—fully maxing out the sense of ritual before they even reached the destination.

Though Wen Mingwei didn't react much on the surface, he found it quite amusing. What was fun wasn't the date itself, but the way Tan Zhao was clearly bursting with excitement while constantly forcing himself to appear calm.

For example, before leaving, he was anxious but wouldn't say it directly, using his eyes to silently urge Wen Mingwei to hurry up and change. When Wen Mingwei turned to look at him in confusion, he would immediately compose himself, wearing an expression that said, "It’s fine, take your time."

Or when driving, if the music in the car didn't suit his taste, he would skip tracks on average once a minute. Over the full forty-minute drive from home to the hotel, Wen Mingwei didn't get to hear a single song in its entirety. Yet, Tan Zhao insisted it wasn't his fault—the playlist was the problem.

Upon arriving at the hotel, they finally walked into their room for the night under the lined-up welcome of the staff—a couple’s suite over three hundred square meters in size.

Because Tan Zhao had booked the most expensive tier, the actual environment was even more exaggerated than the photos online. From the entrance to the living room, the walls were covered in heart-shaped decorations, and music resembling a wedding march played automatically the moment they stepped onto the carpet. Two resounding, grand opening notes startled Tan Zhao.

Confetti and gold glitter rained down from above. Wen Mingwei reacted quickly and pulled him, sparing him from being covered in it.

"Very ritualistic," Wen Mingwei teased. "How is it? Is it the kind you wanted?"

Tan Zhao could barely handle it, but since he was the one who booked the hotel, he had to bite the bullet and praise it: "It's great. It's very nice."

—And that was just the beginning.

Soon, they sat down in the restaurant, ready to order. Before the menu could even be opened, a staff member rushed over and asked a series of bizarre questions: "How long have you two been together?" "Is today an anniversary?" "May I ask what your zodiac signs are?" "Could you disclose your MBTI personality types?" "What are your favorite colors?" "Do you have any lucky numbers?" —of which "do you have any dietary restrictions" was the only normal one. They explained that this information was for the customized two-player entertainment game after the meal.

Wen Mingwei laughed, resting his chin on his hand and winking at Tan Zhao.

Tan Zhao suppressed his impatience, communicating bit by bit as if filling out an incredibly trivial survey, some questions of which even he didn't know the answers to.

Once finished, he could finally open the menu. Then, staring at the pink-colored dish names, he fell into a minute of silence.

"What's wrong?" Wen Mingwei looked at the digital menu with curiosity.

The menu was beautifully designed, with pink hearts flickering around the screen. The first dish on the list was called "A Match Made in Heaven," the second "Love for a Lifetime," and the third "May You Soon Have a Child"...

Wen Mingwei: "..."

The sense of ritual was truly overwhelming.

By this point, Tan Zhao’s expectations for the evening had been all but exhausted. Wen Mingwei ordered the food, giving up on deciphering the names and just picking a few based on the ingredients.

As for the taste, let’s just say it had transcended the evaluation system of "delicious" or "disgusting" and entered the realm of the "bizarre." Wen Mingwei remembered ordering a dish containing foie gras, but when the plate of pink heart-shaped things arrived, he couldn't even recognize it as foie gras.

The young master, who was more particular about his food, wore a black face the entire time and only managed to eat less than five bites.

Setting aside the food that looked better than it tasted, the environment was actually quite nice. The music was soothing, the lighting was neither too bright nor too dim, and as they were finishing, a grand fireworks display ignited outside the window—a "romantic surprise" prepared by the hotel.

"Don't pull such a sour face," Wen Mingwei said. "Actually, it's not bad. It's quite nice."

Tan Zhao was silent for a few seconds. "This is our first date, and it’s nothing like what I imagined."

"What did you imagine?" Wen Mingwei laughed. "You should look at the bright side. As long as it's a date between the two of us, good or bad, it's unique and worth experiencing, isn't it?"

"..."

He was too good at comforting people. Tan Zhao felt awkward for a moment, his mood shifting from cloudy to sunny. "Fine, as long as you're happy."

Wen Mingwei was indeed happy. After all, what he was enjoying tonight wasn't the date, but the young master's tumultuous and spectacular range of expressions.

But Tan Zhao couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't spend a single minute longer in this room filled with pink hearts. He abandoned the next stage of the two-player game and took Wen Mingwei to escape.

It wasn't even eight o'clock yet. Tan Zhao originally wanted to buy two movie tickets on the spot to kill some time. But Wen Mingwei suggested they walk around the streets outside instead; they hadn't had a chance to go for a stroll together so leisurely before.

"Does walking count as a date?"

"It does."

Stepping out of the hotel lobby, they didn't take the car and started walking along the street. The night breeze blowing in their faces lifted Wen Mingwei's long hair. He smiled at Tan Zhao. "I used to love walking."

"Used to?"

"When I was in Xinzhou."

He said, "Back then, there was a lot of pressure, and walking was my way of decompressing. But I couldn't do it near my own home. I liked going to places far away, finding a strange street where no one knew me, and just walking like that—taking it slow."

"Look," Wen Mingwei gestured with his eyes at a passerby, lowering his voice. "He just snuck a glance at us. He was a bit curious, but didn't really care. He looked once and kept walking."

"..."

"That's the feeling of being observed by a stranger," he said, his words a bit difficult to grasp. "You’re just a passerby, too. It’s not important. It’s nothing to worry about."

Tan Zhao understood only half of it. What he understood even less was why he had brought this up so suddenly. Connecting it to his earlier comment that a walk could count as a date, he was good at picking up the key point: "Were you alone when you went for walks before?"

Wen Mingwei smiled ambiguously. "What if I said no?"

Tan Zhao’s face immediately turned cold. "Was it that guy in the photo who accompanied you?"

"...What?" Wen Mingwei stepped forward, almost touching the tip of his nose to his. "Sour again?"

Before Tan Zhao could flare up, Wen Mingwei blocked his mouth with a kiss. He kissed him for over ten seconds, savoring his taste, then commented, "Not sour. It’s sweet."

Tan Zhao: "..."

The night wind blew harder.

Tan Zhao irritably gripped Wen Mingwei, and in retaliation, pressed against the back of his head to return a more forceful kiss. He loved grabbing Wen Mingwei’s hair, his palm rubbing against the roots. When the kiss became intense, he could feel the other man’s body and hair heating up, trembling.

Wen Mingwei seemed to lose himself in pleasure easily. In his seemingly calm eyes, there was a drunken haze. The harder he kissed him, the more obvious that look became, as if he couldn't take it anymore, his eyes unable to focus. He was really enjoying it, really loving him.

...It was sweet, too.

But they shouldn't be kissing so intensely on the street. He didn't want to stop, but he was afraid of going too far.

Tan Zhao tightened his arms, locking his hand around Wen Mingwei’s waist. He wanted to close his eyes and kiss for a while longer before stopping with restraint.

But his eyelids drooped slightly. Before they could close, a streak of fire flashed across his narrowing field of vision, like a meteor plummeting down, heading straight for Wen Mingwei’s back.

Tan Zhao was momentarily stunned, doubting for a split second if he was hallucinating. But his body reacted faster than his brain. Before he even understood what it was, he hugged Wen Mingwei and dodged aside—

"—Bang!"

A flaming soda can exploded exactly where they had been standing!

A gasp erupted on the sidewalk as pedestrians scattered. Wen Mingwei’s pupils shrank. Without needing a command, a group of bodyguards hiding in the shadows immediately rushed out—a dozen of them, surrounding him and Tan Zhao in an airtight circle.

It was a practiced formation for blocking bullets.

Gu Jing was there too. He quickly scanned Wen Mingwei to confirm he wasn't injured before looking at Tan Zhao. Then, he let out a breath and spoke into his phone: "Bring the car around."

"...What the hell is going on?"

Tan Zhao’s expression was grim, but his confusion outweighed his panic. He kept his hand tightly linked with Wen Mingwei’s, instinctively shielding him behind his back.