Preview

Chapter One

There were two airports in the city. The first was a normal international airport: parking lots always too crowded and too difficult to navigate, the departure area always packed with people who didn’t know how to read the “Do Not Turn Off Car. Drivers Must Stay with Vehicles” postings every ten feet, people falling asleep on the uncomfortable chairs as they waited for their planes, newly-arrived tourists standing anxiously at the baggage claim. The second, however, was unique. It was international, certainly, but it was also private. Only the rich and their children, the fu’erdai, came in and out of these airports, and those employed had to go through years of security checks before they could even dream of landing a job within its crystal-glass doors. Within this airport was an open bar, several private and comfortable seating areas, a small number of luxurious hotel rooms, and even various options for activities like a swimming pool, a tennis court, and so on. A collection of chauffeurs silently drove guests between their original hotel, the airport, and the plane they would be taking, which was almost always a private plane. In most senses of the word, this airport was like a club with an airstrip, and it was for this reason that some fu’erdai sometimes came here to spend their time, lingering at the bar and tipping handsomely, flirting with the waitresses that brought them menus and artfully-done brochures, and using the hotel rooms as more discrete places to entertain whatever partners they’d picked up for the night.

It was an unusually warm December evening. Just as always, there was a collection of fu’erdai lingering at the bar, enjoying a variety of expensive alcohol. Occasionally one would tip their glass at the bartender, slur out a “Another, another—I’m thirsty—” and the bartender, hating every bit of this but also unwilling to lose her job, would pour out another round of drinks, hoping desperately that someone would come and relieve her before her shift ended in another four hours. At least, she thought, they could go to the pool, enjoy the warmth of the water, leave her alone to take her fifteen-minute, play on her phone, text her mom—mom, who convinced her to take this job in the first place, who told her that the money was more important than anything at this age, she could just get the job she really wanted when she was older and more stable in life—

It was at this moment that Liu Xiaokai came through the door.

As far as fu’erdai went, Liu Xiaokai was an exception among exceptions—a real ‘gaofushuai.’ If he was a dog breed, he would be an expensive one, the kind that people spent years on waiting lists for, the kind that went through careful and selective breeding before it was allowed to be put on the market. If he was a book, he would be limited edition, signed by the author, written with gold ink and bound in the softest leather. Seeing him linger among the other fu’erdai was like watching a two-thousand-dollar purebred prancing into a chain pet store, or putting that special edition copy next to the half-off grocery store paperbacks.

He looked like he knew it, too.

He dressed to the nines every day. When he moved, it was with a casual, confident kind of swagger that turned heads. In business, he was quick on his feet, and clever too; people couldn’t help but like him. It wasn’t just Xiaokai’s goal to inherit his father’s empire, to run it with the expertly-cultivated success his father accomplished before him—it was also his goal to be just as loved as his father was, to stand in front of the crowd and feel not just like a business tycoon but a beloved king.

The bartender watched him come in, a little open-mouthed—she’d not seen him come here before. There was a reason for that, something Liu Xiaokai had explained again and again on his television interviews, just as he’d explained all of the above: he’d long since abandoned the desire to “have fun” as fu’erdai youth; it was well within his capabilities and well within what society would accept for him to just mess around a bit, hang out with the other fu’erdai, drink until he regretted it, enjoy a few hook-ups—but Liu Xiaokai was looking toward the future. He was the heir, he explained. He didn’t want to become the beloved king and then have to deal with some social media post gossiping about his wild days. He especially didn’t want any of the people he would have this “fun” with revealing his embarrassing secrets as soon as they saw fit. No, he decided, he would have no embarrassing secrets. He would be perfect.

He didn’t order a drink. He bypassed the bar entirely, moving right into one of the more public seating rooms and dropping daintily into the cushioned seat, his ankles folding over each other, his hands settling in his lap. Even his posture was perfect, and his gaze was steady, moving slowly across the contents of what the window before him revealed. Liu Baiyan, the president of the company and his father, had given him an order early today, which he rarely did as Xiaokai got older: go to the airport and pick someone up. Xiaokai hadn’t complained then, of course, and even now as he was sitting and waiting instead of doing more important things—he had to reschedule a meeting with another company for this, which would have finalized a big real-estate project on the eastern border of the city—he would never admit that he found the president’s order, in any way, inconvenient. It was only deep down that he thought this whole thing unnecessary—the company had drivers, and a lot of them too, and even if the trustworthy ones were all busy, the airport had chauffeurs, all of whom the president had personally checked. He did allow himself to consciously wonder who he was picking up. On some occasions he came to pick up his father or his mother, and more rarely he would come to meet a business partner to show them around the city. His parents were both in the city already, so it couldn’t be them. And he wasn’t aware of any business partners flying in—if it was a business partner, he would already know about it, and he prepared for it. He always spent the night before a meeting reviewing notes about each partner so he wouldn’t say anything unsavory.

He could see, through the window, the plane coming in, landing gently on the pavement, and rolling to a stop. The doors opened. It was too far away to see any faces, but a dark shape moved in the doorway—a man in a suit, Xiaokai guessed as he stood. He summoned one of the chauffeurs and had them drive him over to the airstrip. Inside the car, he tried to prepare himself for this unknown guest—what should he say? How friendly should he be—or should he be more businesslike? Or perhaps he should be a mixture of the two, a nice balance. That was always safe. He could adjust according to whatever their reaction was.

His car door opened before he could reach the handle. The chauffeur, he thought, but when he looked up he saw a familiar face that made his stomach drop to his knees. The man in front of him was tall—taller than him, and slender, and the suit he had on couldn’t be more than half of what Xiaokai’s cost but he wore it as if it was four times that. Long legs, ink-black hair to his shoulders, big round blue sunglasses, and a mouth that was all too familiar—a mouth Xiaokai saw in the mirror every morning.

That mouth smiled at him. “Xiao-Xiao! Long time no see!”

It took everything in Liu Xiaokai’s arsenal not to scowl back at him—to snap at him, even, to demand he drop the familiarity, but he forced that all down, swung his legs out of the car, and stood to face the man in front of him.

“Xingyu.” He bowed, slightly, and then straightened up half a second later. “Xiao-Xiao is usually a name reserved for my friends.” This was meant to be an insult, but Liu Xingyu just laughed in return, his head thrown back, his shoulders shaking.

“Didi then?” His smile had grown wider. Now that Xiaokai was standing next to him, he felt…short. He hadn’t felt short in a while, even next to people who were physically taller than him. But Xingyu was physically taller, and he was more relaxed, and he was more handsome, and he was smarter, and Xiaokai felt like a child again.

He took a deep breath. “Xiao-Xiao it is,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were coming back to the country.”

“It was only decided a week ago.” Xingyu took off his sunglasses, wiped them on his shirt, and put them back on. It was a habit of his—and a nervous habit too, if Xiaokai remembered correctly. That pleased him. “I’m coming back to help Ba with a few things. I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying, maybe a week? But I’ll have plenty of time to hang out with you.”

“I don’t…hang out,” said Xiaokai stiffly. His palms were sweating. He had to try very hard not to wipe them on the fabric of his pants.

“No?” Xingyu didn’t seem to think much of this claim. He turned around, spotted the employee coming out of the plane with his bags. “Do you have those? I can take them if you—”

“It’s his job,” said Xiaokai. “Let him be.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Just get in the car. I’m sure Fuqin is waiting for us.” His hands were trembling too. He rested one on top of the car door, the other he nestled into his pocket. A casual stance. It would be too obvious if he just hid them behind his back, no matter how natural he tried to make it look.

Xingyu looked doubtfully back at him. It was in these moments, Xiaokai thought with a small modicum of comfort, that Xingyu’s weakness was obvious: he simply did not know how to navigate the customs of their country, much less the customs of their class. Then he smiled. “You really have grown up,” he said, and reached out to ruffle Xiaokai’s hair; Xiaokai artfully ducked out of his reach. “Has Ba put you in charge of everything?”

“He is still the company president. Of course he hasn’t.”

“But soon?”

“It would be unfilial to count the days.”

That made Xingyu laugh again. He went around to the other side of the car, tried to open the door, but awkwardly had to step back when the chauffeur did it for him. This really was Xiaokai’s world. No matter how intelligent or business-minded he was, Xiaokai held the reins here.

Unless…

He had to take a few deep breaths before he got into the car next to the other man.

Unless Xingyu was here and meeting with Liu Baiyan because he was planning on taking the business. Unless he was studying abroad all this time not because he was interested in becoming a philanthropist or whatever he claimed but because he was getting the international experience to push Xiaokai out and become president in his place. Unless Liu Baiyan had been favoring his eldest son all this time and had only been using Xiaokai because he was conveniently there.

No. No, it was Xiaokai who was in this business. It was Xiaokai who knew all the ins and outs of the company, who knew the ins and outs of their competitors, who was loved by every employee he met and every employee he didn’t meet too, who made deals with partners with the ease of a greeting bow, who was so naturally talented and even naturally handsome that people outside the business world were flocking to him, too. There was simply no way that Xingyu could replace him.

The car began moving toward the exit. Xingyu was relaxed in his seat, leaning back, one hand playing with the lines of his seatbelt. When Xiaokai’s eyes met his, he lifted one corner of his mouth in an infuriating half-smile. “After all that time studying abroad,” he said, “what do you think? Should we get a drink and catch up?”

Xiaokai pushed his hands between his knees to hide their shaking.