"I KNEW IT!" Cupid's voice exploded in Tòumíng's chest with vindication. "GOLD DIGGER! Classic setup! I CALLED IT!"
"Huh?" Tòumíng turned away from the TV, confused. "What?"
The femboy shifted slightly on the couch, his hand moving in what could have been an innocent adjustment of position but somehow ended up grazing against Tòumíng's thigh. Barely touching. Just enough contact to register. "I asked how loaded you are. Like, financially. You moved to a nicer place, you're clearly not worried about the bike anymore... just curious."
The touch—accidental or not—made Tòumíng's brain malfunction. Every survival instinct that had been screaming warnings five minutes ago just shut off completely. His mouth started moving before conscious thought could intervene.
"I made one hundred ninety-five thousand yuan today."
"DON'T TELL HIM THAT!" Cupid shouted.
The femboy's hand stilled on his thigh. His eyebrows rose. Then he let out a low whistle, genuinely impressed. "Wow. One day?"
"Yeah. Mining. I found some... valuable stuff."
"Mining." The femboy's fingers drummed once against Tòumíng's leg before withdrawing completely. "Interesting. Looks like you are worth my time after all."
Something about that phrasing felt off. Worth his time? What did that mean? Tòumíng's confusion must have shown on his face because the femboy laughed a genuine sound, not the performative crying from earlier.
"I'm Měi Nán, by the way." He extended a hand formally, like they were at a business meeting and not sitting on a couch after a robbery-flirting situation. "Since we're apparently doing this."
Tòumíng shook the offered hand automatically. "Tòumíng. Wait, Měi Nán? You're fucking with me."
"I wish I was." Měi Nán's expression twisted into something between amusement and resignation.
"My parents are fashion designers. Both of them. Completely obsessed with beauty, aesthetics, the whole thing. They probably named me that because they wanted a handsome boy who'd grow up to model their designs or whatever."
"That literally just means 'beautiful man.'"
"Or femboy, depending on how you translate it. Trust me, I'm aware of the irony." He leaned back against the couch, getting comfortable. "They wanted a handsome boy to carry on the family legacy. Instead they got one who falls for handsome boys. Life's funny like that."
The comment hung in the air. Falls for handsome boys. Present tense. Current situation.
Tòumíng's face burned. "Am I... do you think I'm...?"
"A handsome boy?" Měi Nán's smile turned sharp, playful. "That information costs one hundred yuan per compliment."
Tòumíng's jaw dropped. "You're charging me? For compliments? About myself?"
"Supply and demand, baby. You want to know if I think you're cute? That's premium content. Gotta monetize." He said it so casually, like charging for basic human interaction was completely normal business practice.
"That's insane!"
"That's capitalism."
"You literally stole my bike!"
"And brought it back! I'm a reformed citizen now. Mostly." Měi Nán stood up in one fluid motion, stretching with deliberate showmanship arms over head, back arching, the whole performance clearly designed to draw attention. "Anyway, this has been fun, but I should probably go."
"Oh. Okay. Yeah." Tòumíng stood too, trying not to feel disappointed and failing completely. "The door is—"
Měi Nán walked toward the door, but instead of leaving, he detoured to the small table near the entrance where Tòumíng had dropped his keys earlier. Before Tòumíng could process what was happening, Měi Nán had plucked the spare key from the ring—the one labeled "SPARE" in permanent marker—and pocketed it with practiced ease.
"Hey! That's—"
"Insurance," Měi Nán said cheerfully, opening the door. "Don't worry, I'll only use it if I feel like visiting. Could be tomorrow, could be never. Keeps things exciting."
"You can't just take my key!"
"I literally stole your bike yesterday and you gave me your address. The key is small potatoes." He paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder with a grin that somehow managed to be infuriating and attractive in equal measure. "Besides, you didn't stop me. That's basically consent."
"That's not how consent works!"
"See you around, Tòumíng. Maybe." The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Tòumíng stood in his apartment, staring at the closed door, trying to process the last thirty minutes of his life. The femboy—Měi Nán—had invited himself in, fake-cried, kissed his cheek, watched TV on his couch, extracted his financial information, charged him for compliments, stolen his spare key, and left.
And Tòumíng had just... let all of that happen. Hadn't objected to any of it with any real force. Had actually sat down and watched Love Island instead of kicking him out.
"What the fuck just happened?" he asked the empty room.
"You're about to get conned," Cupid replied, his tone shifting from vindicated to genuinely concerned. "Like, seriously conned. That whole interaction was a setup. The fake crying to make you vulnerable, the casual touching to keep you off-balance, extracting your financial information, taking the spare key for future access this is textbook manipulation."
"But he seemed... I don't know. Fun?"
"Fun?! He's going to rob you! Probably has friends! They're probably planning it right now! 'Oh yeah, this idiot has two hundred thousand yuan and I have his spare key, let's go clean him out!'"
"I don't think Měi Nán would—"
"You've known him for THIRTY MINUTES! Less than that! You don't know what he would or wouldn't do!"
Tòumíng walked back to the couch and collapsed onto it, the cushions still slightly warm from where Měi Nán had been sitting. His cheek still had the lipstick mark. He still hadn't wiped it off.
"Maybe you're wrong," he said quietly. "Maybe he's not conning me."
"And maybe I'm the Easter Bunny. Wake up, kid. You just got played."
But despite Cupid's warnings, despite every logical red flag waving frantically in his brain, Tòumíng found himself smiling slightly.
Měi Nán had his spare key.
Which meant he might come back.
"I'm so fucked," Tòumíng muttered.
"Finally," Cupid said. "Some self-awareness."