The cabin hummed with quiet luxury. Gold lighting glowed against polished wood and silver fixtures, silk curtains muffled the world outside. In the first-class suite of Flight S-09, perfection was expected-and delivered.
Qin Yu sat alone.
Flawless.
Unbothered.
Untouched.
His tailored suit didn't wrinkle. His jaw was clenched in precision. Not a single strand of his obsidian hair was out of place.
He didn't look at the hostess when she offered him a glass of champagne. He simply took it, murmured nothing, and sipped.
Behind his contact lenses, his eyes gleamed like a mirage too sharp, too beautiful for reality. The woman who served him blushed and turned too quickly. She didn't notice that the glass meant for another man had gone to the wrong god.
And Qin Yu, used to drinking only things tested and verified, didn't taste the difference. He had no reason to.
Four seats behind him, the air was colder.
Yan Rui leaned back in silence. A leather-bound tablet glowed faintly on his lap as he reviewed an encrypted arms deal list. His gloves made no sound on the screen. His face was carved from stillness, his glasses casting a sharp glint as city lights blinked beneath the plane.
He didn't glance up when someone passed.
Didn't react to the quiet sounds of footsteps or the flutter of fabric.
Until they got closer.
A tall figure brushed past the aisle,too quickly, too sharply. The scent of cologne, citrus and cedar, lingered too long. And the walk... uneven.
Out of the corner of his eye, Yan Rui looked up.
He didn't know the name. But the sight struck him.
Beautiful. Not in the usual sense. Too beautiful. Sharp jaw, long lashes, face pale and tight with tension. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple.
"...Hn," Yan Rui murmured to himself, arching a brow faintly.
Female in disguise?
Or is he just... that pretty?
He didn't care. He wasn't curious. Not really.
Still, when the man disappeared into the restroom down the aisle, Yan Rui's eyes lingered.
And then...
He stood up.
Inside the restroom, Qin Yu gripped the counter with both hands. His breath was shaking. His pupils were wide.
Something was wrong.
He couldn't focus. His body his body felt hot. Foreign. Every nerve was alive. His lips were parted, and the sound of his own breathing was making him feel...
No. This is-
No, no, no-
He stared at his reflection.
You're fine. You're just... tired. Maybe jetlag. Maybe-
The door clicked.
He spun around.
Yan Rui stood in the doorway.
He didn't say anything.
He just looked. Calm. Cold. Curious.
And then his gaze dropped-slowly-to Qin Yu's trembling hands still clutched against the counter.
And that was the first moment Qin Yu realized:
He wasn't okay.
And worse-
He wasn't alone
Yan Rui stepped inside, the cool washroom air brushing against his flushed skin.
His eyes paused immediately.
The overhead light washed over him, catching the sleek fall of his dark hair, the straight lines of his back, the elegant slope of his neck. The fabric of his suit clung in all the right places-sharp shoulders, narrow waist, legs that seemed carved to stride across runways, not banquet halls.
Yan Rui didn't move. He simply leaned against the doorway, eyes heavy with something he couldn't name.
Too beautiful for a man...
No-too cold, too quiet, like a sculpture that makes you ache.
His gaze slid lower.
That posture. That stillness.
The slight tremble in Qin Yu's fingers as he ran them under the faucet.
Something wasn't right.
Yan Rui straightened, clearing his throat faintly-not that Qin Yu noticed. The man didn't even glance up.
Still holding that air of lazy arrogance he wore like silk, Rui stepped inside fully, walking to one of the stalls and closing it behind him.
A minute passed. Water still ran.
When Rui emerged, the scene hadn't changed.
Qin Yu was still there. But this time, his hands gripped the edges of the sink, head slightly bowed, water dripping from his wrists. His chest rose and fell faster than before, like something inside him was unraveling.
The air felt... charged.
Rui walked toward the door.
He could have left.
Should have.
But then-
He turned back.
"Hey," Rui said, his voice low. Smooth, teasing. "Planning to wash your skin off?"
Qin Yu's head tilted slightly. Only slightly.
Those eyes-sharp, cool, and unreadable-lifted in the mirror.
"No," he replied. One word. Ice wrapped in velvet.
Rui smiled, undeterred. "You alright?"
Silence.
Then a nod. Barely a movement.
But Yan Rui noticed everything.
"You don't talk much," he added, stepping a little closer. "Or maybe I'm just not interesting enough."
Qin Yu finally turned, water droplets still clinging to his fingers. For a moment, Yan Rui thought he might say something-anything.
But those lips parted only to whisper: "Excuse me."
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Then Qin Yu blinked slowly, turned, and began to walk out. But as he reached the door, his steps faltered.
Yan Rui didn't miss it. He was at his side instantly, but Qin Yu waved him off, pride refusing help.
And he moved past him.
No heat.
No flirtation.
Just distance.
But Rui couldn't move. Not yet. His heart thudded in his chest louder than it should have. Why was it loud? Why did that cold voice make something tighten in his throat?
When he finally returned to his seat, he couldn't speak. His mouth opened... then closed again.
As he closed the door behind him, he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
That man... didn't even look at me twice.
Why does that bother me?
He poured himself a glass of water and downed it in one go.
Still not enough to cool the heat rising under his skin.
This wasn't just curiosity anymore.
This was the beginning of something he hadn't planned for.