Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Why did I say nothing?

Because my boyfriend was an atypical punk-with rings, studs, and “So annoying” forever on his lips-while I had just been entrusted with continuing two family lines.

What was I supposed to say?

I strongly suspected that my parents’ standard for a son-in-law had fallen to: as long as he did not look too outrageous on the surface. Unfortunately, my boyfriend looked outrageous before anyone even scratched that surface.

Mom was still gazing at me eagerly. “Little Five, when will you bring your boyfriend home for dinner?”

“He’s… busy lately,” I said stiffly. “He’s an artist. Inspiration keeps strange hours.”

That was not entirely a lie. Inspiration did strike him in the middle of the night with great frequency. His social feed proved it: black-and-white selfies accompanied by melodramatic declarations of pain.

Yesterday at three in the morning: “A frozen heart will never see spring again.”

The afternoon before: “Perhaps I am only a traveler passing through your life, while you are the eternal calamity of mine.”

The day before that: “Trust is a wager. I lost everything on the table. I concede.”

The photo showed him in a black mask, leaning against a wall with melancholy eyes. Anyone who did not know us would think he had suffered a devastating breakup-not that I had merely failed to tell him he was the most spectacularly handsome man in the universe.

Dad’s eyes brightened. “Being busy is good! A young man should care about his career!”

Mom’s worries vanished. She made the decision with almost indecent haste. “Bring him over in the next few days!”

Once more, the entire family looked at me with hope and trust.

“All right,” I heard myself say, my voice floating somewhere outside my body.

That night I fled to my room, buried myself in the blankets, and stared at the dim glow of my phone.

Cen Puppy: “? Shen Mianzhi.”

Cen Puppy: “You saw it and ignored me.”

Cen Puppy: “Leaving me on read. Emotional abuse, is that it?”

Then came three close-up photographs.

The black leather collar circled his pale neck, snug but not tight. A small bell hung at the center, glinting coldly in the low light. His eyes were half-lowered, long lashes casting soft shadows. He looked wild and obedient at once.

My finger stopped. I stared for a full minute before forcing myself to swipe the pictures away.

I took a breath and typed, “I saw it. My parents want to meet you.”

The typing indicator appeared, vanished, and appeared again. At last a reply arrived.

“Your parents like collars too?”

My vision went dark.

“They do not!” I hammered into the screen. “I’m coming over tomorrow.”

Cen Puppy: “Oh.”

Cen Puppy: “What are you bringing?”

Cen Puppy: “Hotel, or my place?”

The phone nearly fell on my face.

It was over. He was completely unfit to bring home.

This dinner was going to kill us all.