A Heart made of Millions - 2015年9月14日 （上）
Title: A Heart made of Millions - Chapter 1
Rating: PG13 for now, NC-17 in the later chaps (I got you, people)
Length: approx. 3.5K for chapter 1 (3,485 words)
Warnings: none so far except for that Yifan is a spoiled brat
Summary: Yixing thought that, as a journalist, he'd be writing amazing articles of great interest to the Chinese people. Everything changes when he gets assigned to fill in for his co-worker on the Royal Family Series and has to write about their oldest son Wu Yifan and his approaching birthday.
Notes: Yes we are acting as if there is still an emperor in China. Weeeeh!
September 14th, 2015
There was a unilateral rule that always applied no matter where in the world: Mondays suck. Mondays meant your weekend was over and you had to go back to your work, school or university, and you had to see all those colleagues and fellow students you did not get along with. People were in an especially bad mood, clinging to their coffees, only waiting for lunch break to begin. Whenever Monday was over, Tuesday came around, which also sucked, because the weekend was still so far away. The mood would lift when Wednesday arrived, followed by Thursday and people became light hearted and happy when Friday was finally here, only to dread the nearing Sunday on Saturday evening.
Yixing was not one of those people. Mondays weren’t any more special than any other weekday, he thought. That may result from the fact that he liked his job, more than anyone else in his department. So it was no wonder when he stepped into the open plan office of the Zhongguo Ribao, the most prestigious newspaper in China, he radiated good mood and annoyed other people that still seemed to be half asleep in front of their laptops. Yixing was one of the few employees who had an office for their own, something he got only recently because of the promotion his boss had granted him. He was still very young, graduated from college two years ago, and he was full of idealism and visions to revolutionize the work of Chinese journalists. Until now, it had worked pretty well.
When he sat down on his chair and started his Macbook, Yixing was of the opinion that this day would be dedicated to new research since he was in need of a new story. But only ten minutes later, when he just sipped on his first cup of green tea, his boss entered the room. She was a woman somewhere in her forties, but she looked like twenty. Yixing had never seen her wearing any other color than black and with her red lipstick she looked like the prime example of a Femme Fatale that never put up with attitudes of others. She was feared among her employees and famous for firing people on the spot if they did not deliver the quality that she wanted. She was a strict ruler of her little empire in the 20th floor of a building somewhere in Chaoyang. But if the job was done right, she could also be very soft, funny and generous. When she entered, Yixing’s head shot up.
“Boss! Good morning!” He exclaimed and gave her a bright smile, because he knew she loved it.
“Good morning, Darling,” she said and waved a file, “I’ve got a job for you.”
“Sounds great! What is it?”
Yixing reached for the file that Mrs. Wang handed over to him and she explained:
“I’m sure you’re familiar with the series we run on the Royal Family.”
“Of course I am! Mr. Deng is in charge of it, right?”
She clicked her tongue and then said:
“Not anymore.”
“Huh? What does that mean? He did a great job on it!”
“It’s not about his work. His health is in bad condition and I granted him a leave of absence to get better.”
She sat down on the chair in front of Yixing’s desk and took one of the two mugs that were always placed on it in case visitors came. Yixing hurried to serve her some of his freshly brewed tea.
“Oh, that’s unfortunate. How long will he be absent?”
Mrs. Wang shrugged her shoulders.
“I don’t know. It’s bowel cancer. He’s getting treatment and it sounded like he got diagnosed early enough to have a chance. It’s still going to take a lot of time for him to recover, I think.”
“It’s very generous of you to grant him the time he needs.”
The woman took a sip of the tea, then placed the mug on the desk and said:
“Cut the crap, Yixing. It’s enough if the people in the office talk like this with me. You can drop the act.”
Yixing stayed silent, but felt honored that she seemed to think they did not need to be that formal anymore. She sighed, then tapped the file in front of the young man with her perfectly manicured red nails.
“Nonetheless, he was in charge of the Royal series. The birthday of their son is coming up and it’s time to pay them a visit again.”
“… Mrs. Wang, do you mean I have to take over?”
She nodded. Yixing did not know what to say and sat in his chair, staring at his boss like she had just announced that she was going to sell the newspaper and immigrate to Vietnam to live a simple life. She smiled at him and said:
“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. You’re familiar with Mr. Deng’s work and I wouldn’t want to give this project to one of them.”
She tilted her head in the direction of the open plan office to indicate how high she thought of Yixing and how low of the ordinary writers and editors.
“I feel honored, but… I’m afraid… I mean, my territory is politics…”
“What? The emperor announces the Prime Minister and stuff like this, it’s pretty close to your ‘territory’!” She objected fiercely.
“Well, but apart from that…” Yixing started his argumentation, but when he saw the look on Mrs. Wang’s face, he swallowed the words, “… Yes, I will do it, Madame. Thank you for giving me this project, I’ll do my best.”
“That’s my boy!” She exclaimed delighted and got up, “Thanks for the tea, Yixing.”
“You’re welcome, Boss.”
“I expect your exposé on my desk by Friday.”
And then she was gone. The white mug was stained with her red Chanel lipstick. She had barely taken three sips. Yixing sighed and opened the file to take a look at it.
The Royal Family series was one of the most famous articles that the Zhongguo Ribao published. Mr. Deng’s articles were known for bringing the isolated family close to the ordinary people. His most famous articles were always about the eldest child Wu Yifan who was expected to be the heir to the throne, but instead of shining on official balls and shaking hands on public events, he loved to drive around in one of his five Ferraris, fly over to Hong Kong or Tokyo to party with his friends and change his girlfriends like his underwear. People loved the portraits that Mr. Deng had written about this young man who he had accompanied from his first baby steps. When Yifan had been born, the Zhongguo Ribao had managed to get very exclusive publishing rights about portraits and features and ever since, the life of the Prince had been presented on a silver platter to the Chinese people. Yixing remembered that the articles about him were the hottest thing to read when he was younger: His family and everyone else he knew would gloat over the newest pictures of Yifan, observing how he turned from a young boy to a grown man and monitored every step he made. If he made a wrong one, which happened pretty much every month, people would react shocked, but deep down inside they were enjoying the stories about money, power and glory.
Yifan’s sister, Yili, was the complete opposite. She was around a year younger and made up for the mistakes her brother made. She visited official ceremonies with her parents, was graduating at Yale University and was a well-mannered, scandal-free young woman that would go far in life. The public hardly cared for her.
The Emperor was a short tempered man that was easily offended, and therefore tried to keep his private life away from the public. He showed up to official occasions, and disappeared the moment the official parts were over. He was a mystery to the people, unlike the Empress, who had married into royalty and never forgot that she came from an ordinary household in the outskirts of Beijing. She was the woman who kept the family together, who made announcements, went to talkshows to discuss current events in China, visited hospitals and schools and worked together with the government in the parliament, since her husband was not able to have one rational discussion with the politicians without losing his temper. When government officials arrived in China, it was her who shook the hands of Putin, Obama and Co., the Times Magazine had titled her the ‘Most Powerful Woman’ just a few weeks back. It was clear that this family had everything in the world - and maybe even more.
“Oh my.” Yixing sighed when he went through the information that Mr. Deng had already collected and then he saw there was an appointment with the Royal Family set for today in the afternoon.
It seemed like he had to cancel lunch with his friends for today.
Yixing had to admit to himself that he was nervous as hell when he arrived at the side entrance of the Palace that was set in the middle of the city. Emperors of long gone dynasties had built up an enormous site, where the royal family still resided with their household and held banquets for the high ranking officials and the High Society of Beijing. Of course, the rooms and hallways had been renovated and brought to the newest standard. Still it felt weird to stand in front of the gate when one of the military guards opened up and demanded Yixing’s ID. It felt like he was about to step into a different world and he’d leave the modern Beijing behind him. After five minutes and a few calls the guard had made, he was allowed to enter.
“Wait here, the Empress will pick you up personally,” the man explained and left Yixing in a small area that looked like a garden.
“Wait, the Empress?”
But the guard did not hear his question and went back to his place at the entrance. Yixing’s grip around his bag with his camera and his laptop grew tighter and his hands started to sweat. He had expected to be greeted by some other random guard that eventually would bring him to Wu Yifan directly, but the Empress? That was something he wasn’t really prepared for.
He wasn’t sure how long he had waited until she showed up.
“Mr. Zhang, I reckon?”
In the middle of the garden with old-fashioned furniture and an ancient touch she looked awkwardly out of place. She wore a red costume and black high heels, both looked more expensive than Yixing’s Nikon and his Macbook combined.
“Umm… yes… my… Empress?” He stammered and did not know what to do - bow? Shake her hand?
Not look at her at all?
She smiled at him and offered her hand.
“I don’t need you to do three Kotaus when we meet. These times are long over.”
He hesitated but then shook her hand. She had a tight grip, indicating that she was in complete control of the situation while Yixing was completely lost.
“You’re here on Mr. Deng’s behalf I was informed?”
“Yes. He’s… not in good health and I shall take over his articles for the time being.”
The Empress smiled, linked her arm with Yixing’s and led him out of the garden. The journalist tried to keep his cool, but he felt heat rising up into his face. Wasn’t that inappropriate?
“I think Yifan won’t mind it at all.”
“Really?”
She nodded and the sound of her high heels clattering on the stoned floor sounded intimidating. It made Yixing feel like he was prey and she was the lioness who could kill him within seconds. Even though she smiled, there was still a hard look on her face.
“He did not really get along with Mr. Deng.”
“It seemed they were close, judging from his articles…”
The Empress chuckled.
“You won’t believe me, but even my son can be well mannered and nice at times. He figured if he got along with Mr. Deng, he’d leave sooner.”
“Oh…”
“Don’t worry too much about him though. People often get the wrong impression about him.”
She patted his arm, but Yixing couldn’t help it and started to panic a little. How in the hell did Mrs. Wang think he was the right one for this job? Yixing was led to a small hall with a garden where two middle-aged men worked on the flowers that had been planted. When they saw the Empress, they stopped their work, took off their hats and bowed.
“Continue your great work, guys,” she said and gave them a warm smile.
“My son should be here, he moved from the main house to this hall when he was eighteen,” the woman explained and took a look at her watch on her wrist, “Yes, I think he should be up by now.”
She let go of Yixing and stepped to the door. She did not knock, but opened it immediately. Yixing followed slowly, because he had no idea what else to do.
The room was big and bright. A big bed was placed at the head of the room and other doors indicated a bathroom and a big closet filled up with designer clothes that the young man wore maybe one time in his life. To Yixing’s left was the biggest flat screen TV he had ever seen, accompanied with expensive looking leather couches. To his right he made out a big table and some book shelves, something he had not really expected.
Yifan was sitting on the bed and his little sister sat next to him. Even if Yixing hadn’t seen a picture of her before, he could have told immediately. She looked like a younger and more female version of her brother, just as beautiful as her brother was handsome. They were looking into an iPad and were laughing about something Yili showed him from her last semester at Yale.
“And this guy right here,” Yili said while she pointed at one guy in a photo, “Was totally after me. He even wrote me a love letter, can you believe that? A letter. With paper and ink. I even think he sprayed some perfume on it, it was so cliché I wanted to gag.”
“Oh god, he looks ugly!” Yifan exclaimed in disbelief.
“I know, right? I told him that I was in love with someone else, though.”
“Oh, and who would that be?”
Yili smiled like a little child and then said:
“Some random Li Xiaoqiang that I made up in my head. He lives in Beijing and is the son of some owner of some company that only operates in China but he’s rich enough to be with me.”
“You are such a heartbreaker!”
Yifan laughed out wholeheartedly, while Yili shrugged her shoulders as if she wanted to apologize. When their mother cleared her throat, the laughter died and the siblings shot up into straight seating positions.
“Mother!”
“Yes. Good afternoon, my children.”
Yifan’s gaze wandered from his mother to Yixing and he raised an eyebrow in question.
“Who is this?”
“This should be Mr. Deng but he’s in bad health. This is Mr. Zhang and he’ll do his work from now on. You remember that you had an appointment with him, right?”
Yifan pouted, nodded his head slowly and turned to his sister:
“I think you need to go. Let’s talk later.”
“Sure thing!”
She took the iPad, gave her brother a peck on the cheek and almost danced out of the room, graceful as a ballerina. The Empress followed her with an examining look on her face and then turned back to the two men:
“I’ll take my leave then. Mr. Zhang, one more thing: Please show me the articles you’ve written before you publish it.”
“I’ll make sure to let you see them.”
She smiled one more time at him, nodded in appreciation and said while she left the room:
“Yifan, get dressed, you’re embarrassing me.”
“I will, mother,” he replied.
When the door had closed behind her, Yifan grimaced and scoffed:
“As fucking if!”
Yixing wished himself dead.
“Do you mind if I just stay like this?” The Prince asked and pointed at his sweatpants that did not look like he had bought them at the next H&M store at Wangfujing.
“Ummmm, no. I mean. You’re the Prince. You can wear whatever you want.”
“You’re right I guess.”
He shrugged, then stretched his back. When he looked back at Yixing who hadn’t moved an inch, he blinked and asked:
“So, do you want to start now or what?”
“I… yes. Um. Sorry.”
Yifan cracked a smile and pointed to the place that Yili had been sitting at before.
“Please sit.”
“On your… bed?!”
“Do you want to keep standing like a kicked puppy in the middle of my room?”
Yixing eyed the sofa or the big table that would’ve been way more appropriate but Yifan just snapped his fingers.
“Ya! Get your ass over here. I told you it was okay. We’re not in one of these historical Dramas where one move in front of the Emperor gets you killed.”
The journalist took one last deep breath and thought to himself to ask for a raise. This was just too crazy. When he thought he was prepared enough for the coming hour, he stepped to the bed and sat down at the brink of the mattress.
“So?” Yifan asked and examined Yixing from head to toe, expecting something that Yixing had no idea about.
“Um. Yes. Sorry. I … I got the memo this morning, I’m not well prepared, it’s really a shame…” Yixing stammered and took out the file where he had scrabbled down some rather lame questions about the life of a royal heir. Yifan chuckled and the sound sent shivers down Yixing’s spine.
“I’ll help you out then,” the other one said, “Usually, Mr. Deng would’ve brought me a bag of White Rabbit sweets, since I loved them as a child.”
“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.”
“It’s okay, I hate them now. So you did right by that.”
“O..kay…”
Yixing was clearly confused why Yifan would mention this anyway, and he continued:
“Then he would start asking me questions about how I have been doing, if I’m eating enough, what my current girlfriend is doing or if I plan on buying another car.”
Yixing looked nervous to his notes where he had written down questions like ‘What does it feel like to have lived almost half a decade with little to no privacy?’ and felt incredibly stupid all of a sudden.
“And then we’d go out to eat something.”
“Wait, what?”
Yifan snorted.
“You really have no idea how this works, right?”
“Well, it does not look like it, does it?!” Yixing shot back but immediately regretted it.
His eyes widened in shock when he realized he disrespected the son of the Emperor. Yifan raised an eyebrow, then started to laugh.
“Did you think there would be an interview and you would shoot two or three pictures and then leave again?”
“I… thought so.”
Yifan clicked his tongue and then shook his head to indicate how wrong Yixing’s notion was.
“Mr. Deng used to follow me for some days, sometimes even for weeks. He accompanied me to appointments and all this kind of stuff.”
“So, I need to stick by your side for the next few days?”
“Weeks.” Yifan corrected and he eyed Yixing with a husky smile.
“Weeks??”
“How do you think Mr. Deng’s articles were so…” The prince shifted his weight and leaned forward, “…intimate?”
Something about his low voice made Yixing’s body heat up and shiver at the same time. He then managed to say:
“Oh, but wasn’t Mr. Deng way too old?”
Yixing expected a scolding, or a snarky comment, but Yifan laughed out loud and said:
“I like you. You can come around more often.”
The tension faded and Yifan threw his legs over the edge of the bed.
“I’m hungry, let’s skip the smalltalk part and move to lunch, shall we?”
The journalist made a weird noise that was something between saying ‘yes’ and ‘I don’t know’ and Wu Yifan proceeded to the dressing room.
“Give me five minutes and we’ll be ready to go.”
Then he slammed the door close and left Yixing on the bed. It felt like he finally took a deep breath for the first time since he had sat down next to the tall man and he stuffed his file and all the little notes back into his bag. He was sure now: This Monday wouldn’t be like any other Monday. And the other days to come would be a huge challenge too.
Chapter 2
Rating: PG13 for now, NC-17 in the later chaps (I got you, people)
Length: approx. 3.5K for chapter 1 (3,485 words)
Warnings: none so far except for that Yifan is a spoiled brat
Summary: Yixing thought that, as a journalist, he'd be writing amazing articles of great interest to the Chinese people. Everything changes when he gets assigned to fill in for his co-worker on the Royal Family Series and has to write about their oldest son Wu Yifan and his approaching birthday.
Notes: Yes we are acting as if there is still an emperor in China. Weeeeh!
September 14th, 2015
There was a unilateral rule that always applied no matter where in the world: Mondays suck. Mondays meant your weekend was over and you had to go back to your work, school or university, and you had to see all those colleagues and fellow students you did not get along with. People were in an especially bad mood, clinging to their coffees, only waiting for lunch break to begin. Whenever Monday was over, Tuesday came around, which also sucked, because the weekend was still so far away. The mood would lift when Wednesday arrived, followed by Thursday and people became light hearted and happy when Friday was finally here, only to dread the nearing Sunday on Saturday evening.
Yixing was not one of those people. Mondays weren’t any more special than any other weekday, he thought. That may result from the fact that he liked his job, more than anyone else in his department. So it was no wonder when he stepped into the open plan office of the Zhongguo Ribao, the most prestigious newspaper in China, he radiated good mood and annoyed other people that still seemed to be half asleep in front of their laptops. Yixing was one of the few employees who had an office for their own, something he got only recently because of the promotion his boss had granted him. He was still very young, graduated from college two years ago, and he was full of idealism and visions to revolutionize the work of Chinese journalists. Until now, it had worked pretty well.
When he sat down on his chair and started his Macbook, Yixing was of the opinion that this day would be dedicated to new research since he was in need of a new story. But only ten minutes later, when he just sipped on his first cup of green tea, his boss entered the room. She was a woman somewhere in her forties, but she looked like twenty. Yixing had never seen her wearing any other color than black and with her red lipstick she looked like the prime example of a Femme Fatale that never put up with attitudes of others. She was feared among her employees and famous for firing people on the spot if they did not deliver the quality that she wanted. She was a strict ruler of her little empire in the 20th floor of a building somewhere in Chaoyang. But if the job was done right, she could also be very soft, funny and generous. When she entered, Yixing’s head shot up.
“Boss! Good morning!” He exclaimed and gave her a bright smile, because he knew she loved it.
“Good morning, Darling,” she said and waved a file, “I’ve got a job for you.”
“Sounds great! What is it?”
Yixing reached for the file that Mrs. Wang handed over to him and she explained:
“I’m sure you’re familiar with the series we run on the Royal Family.”
“Of course I am! Mr. Deng is in charge of it, right?”
She clicked her tongue and then said:
“Not anymore.”
“Huh? What does that mean? He did a great job on it!”
“It’s not about his work. His health is in bad condition and I granted him a leave of absence to get better.”
She sat down on the chair in front of Yixing’s desk and took one of the two mugs that were always placed on it in case visitors came. Yixing hurried to serve her some of his freshly brewed tea.
“Oh, that’s unfortunate. How long will he be absent?”
Mrs. Wang shrugged her shoulders.
“I don’t know. It’s bowel cancer. He’s getting treatment and it sounded like he got diagnosed early enough to have a chance. It’s still going to take a lot of time for him to recover, I think.”
“It’s very generous of you to grant him the time he needs.”
The woman took a sip of the tea, then placed the mug on the desk and said:
“Cut the crap, Yixing. It’s enough if the people in the office talk like this with me. You can drop the act.”
Yixing stayed silent, but felt honored that she seemed to think they did not need to be that formal anymore. She sighed, then tapped the file in front of the young man with her perfectly manicured red nails.
“Nonetheless, he was in charge of the Royal series. The birthday of their son is coming up and it’s time to pay them a visit again.”
“… Mrs. Wang, do you mean I have to take over?”
She nodded. Yixing did not know what to say and sat in his chair, staring at his boss like she had just announced that she was going to sell the newspaper and immigrate to Vietnam to live a simple life. She smiled at him and said:
“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. You’re familiar with Mr. Deng’s work and I wouldn’t want to give this project to one of them.”
She tilted her head in the direction of the open plan office to indicate how high she thought of Yixing and how low of the ordinary writers and editors.
“I feel honored, but… I’m afraid… I mean, my territory is politics…”
“What? The emperor announces the Prime Minister and stuff like this, it’s pretty close to your ‘territory’!” She objected fiercely.
“Well, but apart from that…” Yixing started his argumentation, but when he saw the look on Mrs. Wang’s face, he swallowed the words, “… Yes, I will do it, Madame. Thank you for giving me this project, I’ll do my best.”
“That’s my boy!” She exclaimed delighted and got up, “Thanks for the tea, Yixing.”
“You’re welcome, Boss.”
“I expect your exposé on my desk by Friday.”
And then she was gone. The white mug was stained with her red Chanel lipstick. She had barely taken three sips. Yixing sighed and opened the file to take a look at it.
The Royal Family series was one of the most famous articles that the Zhongguo Ribao published. Mr. Deng’s articles were known for bringing the isolated family close to the ordinary people. His most famous articles were always about the eldest child Wu Yifan who was expected to be the heir to the throne, but instead of shining on official balls and shaking hands on public events, he loved to drive around in one of his five Ferraris, fly over to Hong Kong or Tokyo to party with his friends and change his girlfriends like his underwear. People loved the portraits that Mr. Deng had written about this young man who he had accompanied from his first baby steps. When Yifan had been born, the Zhongguo Ribao had managed to get very exclusive publishing rights about portraits and features and ever since, the life of the Prince had been presented on a silver platter to the Chinese people. Yixing remembered that the articles about him were the hottest thing to read when he was younger: His family and everyone else he knew would gloat over the newest pictures of Yifan, observing how he turned from a young boy to a grown man and monitored every step he made. If he made a wrong one, which happened pretty much every month, people would react shocked, but deep down inside they were enjoying the stories about money, power and glory.
Yifan’s sister, Yili, was the complete opposite. She was around a year younger and made up for the mistakes her brother made. She visited official ceremonies with her parents, was graduating at Yale University and was a well-mannered, scandal-free young woman that would go far in life. The public hardly cared for her.
The Emperor was a short tempered man that was easily offended, and therefore tried to keep his private life away from the public. He showed up to official occasions, and disappeared the moment the official parts were over. He was a mystery to the people, unlike the Empress, who had married into royalty and never forgot that she came from an ordinary household in the outskirts of Beijing. She was the woman who kept the family together, who made announcements, went to talkshows to discuss current events in China, visited hospitals and schools and worked together with the government in the parliament, since her husband was not able to have one rational discussion with the politicians without losing his temper. When government officials arrived in China, it was her who shook the hands of Putin, Obama and Co., the Times Magazine had titled her the ‘Most Powerful Woman’ just a few weeks back. It was clear that this family had everything in the world - and maybe even more.
“Oh my.” Yixing sighed when he went through the information that Mr. Deng had already collected and then he saw there was an appointment with the Royal Family set for today in the afternoon.
It seemed like he had to cancel lunch with his friends for today.
Yixing had to admit to himself that he was nervous as hell when he arrived at the side entrance of the Palace that was set in the middle of the city. Emperors of long gone dynasties had built up an enormous site, where the royal family still resided with their household and held banquets for the high ranking officials and the High Society of Beijing. Of course, the rooms and hallways had been renovated and brought to the newest standard. Still it felt weird to stand in front of the gate when one of the military guards opened up and demanded Yixing’s ID. It felt like he was about to step into a different world and he’d leave the modern Beijing behind him. After five minutes and a few calls the guard had made, he was allowed to enter.
“Wait here, the Empress will pick you up personally,” the man explained and left Yixing in a small area that looked like a garden.
“Wait, the Empress?”
But the guard did not hear his question and went back to his place at the entrance. Yixing’s grip around his bag with his camera and his laptop grew tighter and his hands started to sweat. He had expected to be greeted by some other random guard that eventually would bring him to Wu Yifan directly, but the Empress? That was something he wasn’t really prepared for.
He wasn’t sure how long he had waited until she showed up.
“Mr. Zhang, I reckon?”
In the middle of the garden with old-fashioned furniture and an ancient touch she looked awkwardly out of place. She wore a red costume and black high heels, both looked more expensive than Yixing’s Nikon and his Macbook combined.
“Umm… yes… my… Empress?” He stammered and did not know what to do - bow? Shake her hand?
Not look at her at all?
She smiled at him and offered her hand.
“I don’t need you to do three Kotaus when we meet. These times are long over.”
He hesitated but then shook her hand. She had a tight grip, indicating that she was in complete control of the situation while Yixing was completely lost.
“You’re here on Mr. Deng’s behalf I was informed?”
“Yes. He’s… not in good health and I shall take over his articles for the time being.”
The Empress smiled, linked her arm with Yixing’s and led him out of the garden. The journalist tried to keep his cool, but he felt heat rising up into his face. Wasn’t that inappropriate?
“I think Yifan won’t mind it at all.”
“Really?”
She nodded and the sound of her high heels clattering on the stoned floor sounded intimidating. It made Yixing feel like he was prey and she was the lioness who could kill him within seconds. Even though she smiled, there was still a hard look on her face.
“He did not really get along with Mr. Deng.”
“It seemed they were close, judging from his articles…”
The Empress chuckled.
“You won’t believe me, but even my son can be well mannered and nice at times. He figured if he got along with Mr. Deng, he’d leave sooner.”
“Oh…”
“Don’t worry too much about him though. People often get the wrong impression about him.”
She patted his arm, but Yixing couldn’t help it and started to panic a little. How in the hell did Mrs. Wang think he was the right one for this job? Yixing was led to a small hall with a garden where two middle-aged men worked on the flowers that had been planted. When they saw the Empress, they stopped their work, took off their hats and bowed.
“Continue your great work, guys,” she said and gave them a warm smile.
“My son should be here, he moved from the main house to this hall when he was eighteen,” the woman explained and took a look at her watch on her wrist, “Yes, I think he should be up by now.”
She let go of Yixing and stepped to the door. She did not knock, but opened it immediately. Yixing followed slowly, because he had no idea what else to do.
The room was big and bright. A big bed was placed at the head of the room and other doors indicated a bathroom and a big closet filled up with designer clothes that the young man wore maybe one time in his life. To Yixing’s left was the biggest flat screen TV he had ever seen, accompanied with expensive looking leather couches. To his right he made out a big table and some book shelves, something he had not really expected.
Yifan was sitting on the bed and his little sister sat next to him. Even if Yixing hadn’t seen a picture of her before, he could have told immediately. She looked like a younger and more female version of her brother, just as beautiful as her brother was handsome. They were looking into an iPad and were laughing about something Yili showed him from her last semester at Yale.
“And this guy right here,” Yili said while she pointed at one guy in a photo, “Was totally after me. He even wrote me a love letter, can you believe that? A letter. With paper and ink. I even think he sprayed some perfume on it, it was so cliché I wanted to gag.”
“Oh god, he looks ugly!” Yifan exclaimed in disbelief.
“I know, right? I told him that I was in love with someone else, though.”
“Oh, and who would that be?”
Yili smiled like a little child and then said:
“Some random Li Xiaoqiang that I made up in my head. He lives in Beijing and is the son of some owner of some company that only operates in China but he’s rich enough to be with me.”
“You are such a heartbreaker!”
Yifan laughed out wholeheartedly, while Yili shrugged her shoulders as if she wanted to apologize. When their mother cleared her throat, the laughter died and the siblings shot up into straight seating positions.
“Mother!”
“Yes. Good afternoon, my children.”
Yifan’s gaze wandered from his mother to Yixing and he raised an eyebrow in question.
“Who is this?”
“This should be Mr. Deng but he’s in bad health. This is Mr. Zhang and he’ll do his work from now on. You remember that you had an appointment with him, right?”
Yifan pouted, nodded his head slowly and turned to his sister:
“I think you need to go. Let’s talk later.”
“Sure thing!”
She took the iPad, gave her brother a peck on the cheek and almost danced out of the room, graceful as a ballerina. The Empress followed her with an examining look on her face and then turned back to the two men:
“I’ll take my leave then. Mr. Zhang, one more thing: Please show me the articles you’ve written before you publish it.”
“I’ll make sure to let you see them.”
She smiled one more time at him, nodded in appreciation and said while she left the room:
“Yifan, get dressed, you’re embarrassing me.”
“I will, mother,” he replied.
When the door had closed behind her, Yifan grimaced and scoffed:
“As fucking if!”
Yixing wished himself dead.
“Do you mind if I just stay like this?” The Prince asked and pointed at his sweatpants that did not look like he had bought them at the next H&M store at Wangfujing.
“Ummmm, no. I mean. You’re the Prince. You can wear whatever you want.”
“You’re right I guess.”
He shrugged, then stretched his back. When he looked back at Yixing who hadn’t moved an inch, he blinked and asked:
“So, do you want to start now or what?”
“I… yes. Um. Sorry.”
Yifan cracked a smile and pointed to the place that Yili had been sitting at before.
“Please sit.”
“On your… bed?!”
“Do you want to keep standing like a kicked puppy in the middle of my room?”
Yixing eyed the sofa or the big table that would’ve been way more appropriate but Yifan just snapped his fingers.
“Ya! Get your ass over here. I told you it was okay. We’re not in one of these historical Dramas where one move in front of the Emperor gets you killed.”
The journalist took one last deep breath and thought to himself to ask for a raise. This was just too crazy. When he thought he was prepared enough for the coming hour, he stepped to the bed and sat down at the brink of the mattress.
“So?” Yifan asked and examined Yixing from head to toe, expecting something that Yixing had no idea about.
“Um. Yes. Sorry. I … I got the memo this morning, I’m not well prepared, it’s really a shame…” Yixing stammered and took out the file where he had scrabbled down some rather lame questions about the life of a royal heir. Yifan chuckled and the sound sent shivers down Yixing’s spine.
“I’ll help you out then,” the other one said, “Usually, Mr. Deng would’ve brought me a bag of White Rabbit sweets, since I loved them as a child.”
“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.”
“It’s okay, I hate them now. So you did right by that.”
“O..kay…”
Yixing was clearly confused why Yifan would mention this anyway, and he continued:
“Then he would start asking me questions about how I have been doing, if I’m eating enough, what my current girlfriend is doing or if I plan on buying another car.”
Yixing looked nervous to his notes where he had written down questions like ‘What does it feel like to have lived almost half a decade with little to no privacy?’ and felt incredibly stupid all of a sudden.
“And then we’d go out to eat something.”
“Wait, what?”
Yifan snorted.
“You really have no idea how this works, right?”
“Well, it does not look like it, does it?!” Yixing shot back but immediately regretted it.
His eyes widened in shock when he realized he disrespected the son of the Emperor. Yifan raised an eyebrow, then started to laugh.
“Did you think there would be an interview and you would shoot two or three pictures and then leave again?”
“I… thought so.”
Yifan clicked his tongue and then shook his head to indicate how wrong Yixing’s notion was.
“Mr. Deng used to follow me for some days, sometimes even for weeks. He accompanied me to appointments and all this kind of stuff.”
“So, I need to stick by your side for the next few days?”
“Weeks.” Yifan corrected and he eyed Yixing with a husky smile.
“Weeks??”
“How do you think Mr. Deng’s articles were so…” The prince shifted his weight and leaned forward, “…intimate?”
Something about his low voice made Yixing’s body heat up and shiver at the same time. He then managed to say:
“Oh, but wasn’t Mr. Deng way too old?”
Yixing expected a scolding, or a snarky comment, but Yifan laughed out loud and said:
“I like you. You can come around more often.”
The tension faded and Yifan threw his legs over the edge of the bed.
“I’m hungry, let’s skip the smalltalk part and move to lunch, shall we?”
The journalist made a weird noise that was something between saying ‘yes’ and ‘I don’t know’ and Wu Yifan proceeded to the dressing room.
“Give me five minutes and we’ll be ready to go.”
Then he slammed the door close and left Yixing on the bed. It felt like he finally took a deep breath for the first time since he had sat down next to the tall man and he stuffed his file and all the little notes back into his bag. He was sure now: This Monday wouldn’t be like any other Monday. And the other days to come would be a huge challenge too.
Chapter 2