Guo Chengyu holds a nominal manager’s post at a city-owned construction firm—but he almost never shows up for work. Recently he landed a huge contract; after winning the bid he subcontracted the whole project and cleared tens of millions in profit. With the money he bought a piece of land, put up a sign that reads “Pet Snake Park,” and filled the place with brightly colored pet snakes—many of them rare, exotic species—apparently just to annoy Chi Cheng.
These days Guo has been so busy strolling around his little park that he hasn’t even had time to drop by the clinic.
“Word is Chi Jiali’s coming back in a few days,” Li Wang said.
Guo grinned. “That’ll liven things up.”
Chi Jiali is Chi Cheng’s biological older sister, six years his senior. Four years ago she ignored her parents’ objections and married a Black man, then settled overseas. Two years ago she had twin boys—one dark-skinned, one fair—and they’re a real sight. Chi Cheng’s parents adore the kids and are always nagging her to bring them home for a visit.
“What was Jiali thinking—finding someone that dark? Last time they came back and I ran into them—my god, he was black as ink! And wearing a white suit too. I was afraid the color might rub off on the fabric,” Li Wang joked.
Guo snorted a laugh. “Black guys have big dicks.”
“Well, there is that.”
As the car pulled out of the park and onto the road, Li Wang suddenly remembered something. “That little doctor asked about you the other day—wanted to know why you hadn’t shown up lately. Looked like he’s got you on his mind.”
Guo ran the tip of his tongue along his canine tooth. “He didn’t also ask about Chi Cheng?”
Thinking back, Li Wang realized he had asked a few questions.
“He just wondered if there was anything between you and Chi Cheng—mentioned it in passing—but mostly he was asking about you.”
Guo narrowed his eyes at the scenery outside the window. “What he really wanted to talk about were those two offhand questions.”
“You mean he’s interested in Chi Cheng?”
Guo said, “Isn’t someone still staying at the clinic?”
Only then did Li Wang recall running into Chi Cheng at the clinic last time. Wasn’t he there for Jiang Xiaoshuai?
Guo remarked casually, “That little bald monk—he’s sharp.”
“You mean that loud, rough-around-the-edges Wu Suowei?” Li Wang objected. “Sharp? I don’t see it!”
“That’s because you’re dumb.”
Li Wang: “… “
Guo added, “Wanna bet? When this car drives past the clinic, Jiang Xiaoshuai will definitely flag us down.”
Sometimes Guo spoke like he was just joking, but Li Wang couldn’t help believing him.
Sure enough, the moment the car arrived, Jiang Xiaoshuai popped up in front of them as if by magic.
Guo Chengyu hit the brakes with a neat screech—the car’s nose brushed the hem of Jiang Xiaoshuai’s white coat.
“Out of the car,” Jiang rapped on the window.
Guo lowered it, letting his teasing gaze rake across Jiang’s face.
“Doctor Jiang, what’s this about? I’ve got places to be—don’t block the road.”
This time Jiang took the initiative.
“You’re seriously ill. I can smell that last-glimmer-before-death on you. If you want to stay alive, come with me.”
Once inside the clinic, Jiang launched into chat mode.
“I heard you opened a Pet Snake Park. Mind if I have a look? A buddy of mine keeps snakes—wants to pick up some tips.”
Guo slid a hand up Jiang’s inner thigh and murmured, “Forget a look—take two snakes home if you want.”
Jiang forced down a surge of anger and calmly pried the hand away.
“So where’s the park? How big is it? What species do you keep? Are they just for show, or are any for sale…?” He threw out a string of casual questions.
Guo, utterly patient, waited—waited for Jiang Xiaoshuai to circle the conversation around to Chi Cheng.
74
“I’ve noticed that keeping snakes has become a trend. Among rich kids like you, is it popular?”
Guo Chengyu kindly narrowed the scope for him. “Not really. Most people still keep cats and dogs; southerners keep snakes more often. Many species can’t handle the northern climate—after a few days they just die.”
Jiang Xiaoshuai was pleased with that answer: only a few snake-keepers meant less digging.
“How do they keep them? At home? Or, like you, do they build a special park and stock it with lots of species?”
“Most people buy one or two and keep them at home. Only real enthusiasts keep many kinds. It isn’t easy—different snakes have different habits, and many can’t coexist. Large-scale setups are usually run by snake farmers who make money off them. If someone builds a big place without aiming for profit, they need plenty of cash to burn.”
As he spoke, Guo’s hand slipped back inside the white coat.
Just as Jiang was steering the talk toward Chi Cheng, he had to grit his teeth and endure.
“So, from what you’re saying, you’re the only one willing to spend big on a snake park?”
Guo’s hand pressed against the rise between Jiang’s thighs. He answered with a single word. “Two.”
“There’s one more?”
Jiang’s eyes were practically bloodshot from holding back. Almost there.
“Who is it?”
Guo sighed. “Better not bring him up.”
Jiang clamped down on Guo’s wandering hand, molars grinding.
Guo switched tack. “If you’re really interested, I can tell you.”
Jiang froze for a beat, then let go. “All right, talk.”
“Back then, yes—there were two. That guy did nothing but keep snakes. Rented a little place in the suburbs to retire with them. Now it’s just me. All his snakes are gone—he keeps a single one with him.”
Sweat beaded on Jiang’s brow. “Who is this guy?”
“You still don’t know?” Guo gave a sly grin.
Jiang nearly choked. After running such a big circle, letting him grope me this long—huge loss today. Damn, what a snake! May you be born with an extra butt next time!
