17 My Costar is persuasive
Yao Shen looks at the helmet in his hands with apprehension.
He lived most of his life in a sleepy village in the mountains, he's no stranger to ridding mopeds and scooters, but the sleek silver bike between Xin Hulei's thighs is a different beast all together.
Xin Hulei is already seated, his hands on the handlebars. Yao Shen can't see his eyes through the helmet's dark visor and it gives the whole thing a surreal mood.
As if he's about to go on a ride with a stranger, someone who could take him anywhere.
It sends an odd thrill down his spine.
Yao Shen puts it down to panic and climbs up behind Xin Hulei, wrapping his arms around his waist loosely.
"Tighter," Xin Hulei says, his words muffled through the helmet. "Don't fall off."
That doesn't sound reassuring to Yao Shen, who lets out a scared yelp when Xin Hulei kicks the bike into gear and speeds out of the parking lot.
He zips out of Hengdian Studios, and into brightly lit avenues, only a few cars falling behind them as they speed by.
Yao Shen feels the wind drag as a physical thing, beating against his body as if he's going down a never-ending rollercoaster. It makes him dig his fingers into Xin Hulei's slender waist, press his chest closely against his back. The intimacy of it all makes him burn with humiliation.
He doesn't even like this man, he shouldn't have to cling to him like this.
When Xin Hulei finally pulls up into a dimly lit street squished between two towering office buildings, Yao Shen can't get off the bike fast enough -- immensely relieved to feel solid ground beneath his feet again.
He has never felt more grateful for public transportation in his life.
He's catching a bus back to the hotel, Xin Hulei can go back on his own.
Xin Hulei for his part is as calm as ever. He stores both helmets under the bike's seat and tilts his head further up the street.
"This way," he says, shoving his hands inside his pockets and leading Yao Shen up the winding sidewalks.
He stops in front of a nondescript door, which looks in no way like a restaurant.
Yao Shen watches the moment he pulls something that looks suspiciously like a key out of his pocket and slides it in the door's keyhole.
Again, he's doing something highly suspicious as if he doesn't expect Yao Shen to catch him at it.
The door swings open and the sound of conversation and the smell of food immediately drifts out, where moments ago there was only an unremarkable wooden door and silence.
Yao Shen follows Xin Hulei and is immediately overwhelmed by the lively environment inside the cramped restaurant.
The inside is a mismatch of exposed wooden beams and gleaming floors, elevated platforms with several individual low tables, as if the restaurant itself is part of a film set, combined with some sleek modern appointments like a flat screen tv and an incongruous decorative aquarium that takes over most of the north wall.
At least, Yao Shen assumes it's decorative, because it doesn't resemble any of the live fish water tanks in the seafood restaurants he's been to.
A waiter spots them and approaches them with a smile, wiping his hands on the apron tied around his waist.
"Your Majest-" whatever he sees in Xin Hulei's face makes him stammer for a moment. "Your Majesty the Movie Emperor! Your presence honors our humble establishment."
Nice save. Too bad Yao Shen already knows Xin Hulei is a demon king.
It's more interesting that the waiter knows as well.
It confirms his earlier suspicions when he saw Xin Hulei pull out the weird key that this isn't a normal restaurant.
A sudden thought makes his blood run cold. Could this be a trap?
Has Xin Hulei figured out Yao Shen is an exorcist who is supposed to send him back to the demon realm?
"We'd like a private booth, please," Xin Hulei says.
The waiter nods excitedly and leads him up the narrow flight of stairs into the second floor where a series of bamboo screens and curtains separate several dining nooks.
They are seated in the far corner and Xin Hulei immediately orders for them, "Bring us the degustation menu."
Yao Shen takes the seat across from Xin Hulei and tries not to let his apprehension show.
What exactly is Xin Hulei's goal here? Why is he bringing Yao Shen to a place where at least the staff knows who he is?
Could the patrons downstairs be demons as well?
"We won't be bothered here," Xin Hulei says, suddenly bringing Yao Shen out of his anxiety filled reverie.
"By stalker photographers or fans," he elaborates when it becomes clear Yao Shen doesn't understand his reference.
"Right," Yao Shen says, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs.
Is he thinking too much, here?
It would be useful if the system had anything to say, but apparently it's only capable of being cryptic at the least convenient of times.
They spend a few minutes in uncomfortable silence before the waiter brings their food. Two trays in each hand of small plates and bowls with delicately portioned servings of food Yao Shen doesn't recognize.
It looks very exotic and different, although a few cuts of meat and fish are obvious, all the sauces smell different.
Yao Shen's dithers with his chopsticks in hand above the many plates. Trying to delay putting anything in his mouth.
Xin Hulei is digging into his food leisurely. "Try it, it's good," he says, wrapping his lips around something that may be cow's stomach, maybe not.
Is this food fucking poisoned or not?
Why won't the system tell him anything?
The waiter comes back around their table, smiling widely. "Is everything to our guest's tastes?"
Xin Hulei hums, but then adds, "Bring us the season's wine."
The waiter falters for a moment before nodding. "Right away, sir."
The wine comes and Yao Shen eyes the porcelain jug wearily as Xin Hulei pours for both of them.
He definitely isn't going to drink that.
Xin Hulei raises his cup in a toast but Yao Shen shakes his head. "I don't drink."
Xin Hulei lowers his glass, and looking Yao Shen straight in the eyes says, "Drink."
His commanding tone sends a shiver down Yao Shen's spine, and he finds himself reaching for his cup, despite his best judgment.
He can only watch in horror as his arm brings the cup up to his lips, which open around the cool porcelain cup to allow the sweet wine into his mouth.
His body moves without his input and Yao Shen can't do anything to stop it. The wine settles on his stomach like bile.
He glares at Xin Hulei over the raised cup.
Xin Hulei links the fingers of both hands under his chin and gives Yao Shen a cool, accessing look.
"Now you're going to tell me who you really are."
