Tientsin

Bai Su-Ch’en stood before the Sino-Japanese Trading Company building. It was high noon, the weather warm. He wore a light-coloured suit with a white embroidered tie, looking gentle and untrammeled.
A car sped towards him and braked to a stop before its door swung open, and Arimitsu Kiyoshi poked his head out. “He’s here,” he said in Japanese. “He’s staying at the Astor Hotel.”
Bai got into the car and slammed the door shut. “How is his mood?” he said with a smile.
“Very stable.”
“Does he believe you?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps he does, perhaps he doesn’t. But he’s here, nevertheless.”
Bai didn’t speak again.
Arimitsu Kiyoshi continued: “You must greet him warmly. He clearly favours you, and since the two of you are related, you’re able to openly fraternise with him.”
Bai crossed his arms and remained silent. Then he gave a tiny smile.
Noticing it, Arimitsu Kiyoshi smiled back. “Don’t be daunted by what that Major-General Li said in Luyang. That was only his one-sided account. Ho seems like a fairly amiable man to me.”
Bai nodded. “So I hope.”
- : -
The car stopped in front of the Astor Hotel and a porter boy came forward to open its door. Bai Su-Ch’en stepped out of the car and went straight to room 308.
There, he saw Ho Ji-Ch’ing.
He didn’t smile this time, and looked the other man up and down with a worried expression. “Ch’i-ke, Arimitsu Kiyoshi told me you were ambushed in Peking—are you all right?”
Ho Ji-Ch’ing also looked him up and down. “Little Uncle, aren’t you looking dapper today!”
Bai gave him a pinch on the cheek. “Still in the mood for such things? Looks like you’re obviously fine!”
Ho Ji-Ch’ing sat down in an armchair next to him. “Somebody took a shot at me in Dong’an Market two days ago. Funny enough, the car I took cover behind happened to be Arimitsu Kiyoshi’s. Little Uncle, Arimitsu is an interesting one. He’s obviously a spy, but won’t admit it and insists that he’s a traveler!”
Bai listened to him attentively. When the topic shifted to Aritmitsu Kiyoshi, he asked with interest: “What do you mean?”
Ho Ji-Ch’ing threw him a glance. “Our traveler told me that the assassin was sent by the Nanking Government.”
Bai’s face showed traces of a smile. “And?"
“The traveler invited me to take refuge within the Japanese Concession in Tientsin.”
“So you followed his advice?”
Ho Ji-Ch’ing poured himself a cup of tea. “If what he said was true, then the assassin who missed his mark will certainly make another attempt. If what he told me was a lie, then the man who attacked me…” he took a sip of the lukewarm tea, “must be acting on Arimitsu Kiyoshi’s orders.”
Bai wore a small frown. “Arimitsu sent an assassin after you, then saved you and invited you to hide out in Tientsin—why would he do that?”
Ho Ji-Ch’ing gave an icy laugh. “Why? We will see! Anyhow, had I remained in Peking, there’s no telling when I’ll be slaughtered either by the Chinese or the Japanese. In any case, I won’t be left in peace, so I might as well come to Tientsin with him and pay you a visit.” He turned to Bai. “Little Uncle, we haven’t seen each other in four months. Have you missed me?”
Bai stood and walked over to him. Propping himself up on both armrests of the chair, he bent down over Ho Ji-Ch’ing. “I have. What about little Ch’i-Bao?”
Ho Ji-Ch’ing laughed. “What’s wrong with you? You’re calling me little Ch’i-Bao again!”
Bai lifted a hand to pinch the tip of Ho Ji-Ch’ing’s nose. “What are you if not little Ch’i-Bao? I’m your uncle, why can’t I call you Ch’i-Bao?”
Ho Ji-Ch’ing wasn’t bothered by Bai’s pinch. Bai’s hand was warm and soft, its movements gentle. It would never cause any pain.
After pinching his nose, Bai stroked his hair and said: “Don’t spent all that money staying at the hotel. I’ve got rooms in my house and there isn’t an aunt-in-law to bother you. Why don’t you move in today?”
Like a dog enjoying a pet, Ho Ji-Ch’ing’s narrowed his eyes contently. “I have two men with me. Won’t it be inconvenient?”
“You mean Feng Guo-Chung and Hsiao-Shun? It’s fine. They’re both well-behaved and not bothersome.”
Ho Ji-Ch’ing ruminated in silence for a moment. All of a sudden, he shot up and wrapped his arms around Bai’s waist, laughing. “Little Uncle! Pick me up!”
Startled, Bai’s first inclination was to shove him away. He froze for a moment and gave Ho Ji-Ch’ing a pat on the back. “Look how big you are, how am I supposed to pick you up? Let go, I’ll take you out for lunch!”
- : -
Bai Su-Ch’en lived in a little two-story European house. For an interpreter at a trading company, Bai and his ownership of such a house was something of a miracle among his profession. Ho Ji-Ch’ing stood looking around in the ground-floor parlour and praised: “Little Uncle, you’ve got a nice house here!”
Bai smiled. “I’m renting it from Arimitsu Kiyoshi—the spy you were telling me about. He wouldn’t stay put in one place and thought it was a shame to leave the house empty, so he rented it to me at a discount.”

“Is Arimitsu going away again?”
“I’ve no idea. Anyhow, I won’t be accompanying him even if the president himself gives the order—he really talks too much.”
Ho Ji-Ch’ing’s interest wasn’t on Arimitsu. Sitting on a couch, he followed Bai with his eyes and kept wanting to reach out and touch the other man.
Since Bai was bachelor, he had no personal attendants other than a cook and two housemaids. At the moment, he could only rise to the task himself and bustled about procuring a bag of English chocolates to entertain his nephew. His nephew wasn’t interested in sweets; after a few casual offers, it was Bai who ended up go gobbling down one after another delightedly, and before long a small mountain of chocolate wrappers had accumulated in front of him. Only then did Ho Ji-Ch’ing realise—his Little Uncle had a sweet tooth!
Bai had little desire to chat while he ate his chocolates. Once he finished the entire bag, he finally took a pleased sip of tea and turned to Ho Ji-Ch’ing. “Ch’i-Bao, I’ll be out during the day and won’t be back from work until evening. Make yourself at home here.”
Ho Ji-Ch’ing made no reply, but he put his hand over the nape of Bai’s neck and slid it slowly down the side of Bai’s waist, where he gave a few gentle pats. 
Bai continued gulping down his tea, his hair almost standing on end.
“Little Uncle, you never put on much weight.”
Bai gathered the pile of wrappers into a ball and stuffed it into the bag. “I run around all day trying to make a living, when do I ever get the chance to put on weight?”
Turning towards him, Ho Ji-Ch’ing wrapped his arms around Bai and rested his chin on the other man’s shoulder. With some hesitation, he leaned in and puckered his lips, placing a loud kiss on Bai’s cheek.
Bai was still drinking his tea. At the kiss, he spat out a mouthful of tea and choked himself into a coughing fit.
- : -
That night, Ho Ji-Ch’ing tossed and turned on the spring mattress bed in the guestroom, unable to fall asleep.
The shooting incident at Dong’an Market had already appeared in the Nanking papers. Although the papers reported it as an unsolved crime, Ho Ji-Ch’ing knew for a fact that the bullet had been heading for him.
What a close call. If it hadn’t been for Arimitsu Kiyoshi, he might have met his end right there on the street.
At the thought, he felt a sudden tinge of regret. He shouldn’t have disclosed so much to his little uncle. All that talk of the Chinese and the Japanese—there was no need to bring up such matters. But it changed little in the grand scheme of things. Who knew if Little Uncle was conniving with Arimitsu? In that case, what he said would soon be passed on to Arimitsu, which was just as well, since it meant that they’d know he wasn’t stupid and drop the cryptic act.
But considering his current lack of manpower, rank, and wealth, what could the Japanese possibly want with him?
He turned over again in bed hugging a pillow in his arms, still unable to come up with an answer.
There were faint sounds of breathing in the corner of his room, their source heard but not seen. It was Hsiao-Shun.
Ho Ji-Ch’ing changed the subject of his contemplation. He began to ponder over Bai Su-Ch’en.
Rationally, he knew that his little uncle’s position must be somewhat dubious; at the very least, he was too closely associated with the Japanese. But emotionally, he wanted to initiate a love affair with his little uncle—Little Uncle was gentle and kind, a much better fit for his ideals than Lan Bai-Shan.
Of course, the love affair would be limited to its platonic stage. To involve carnal prospects… It wasn’t impossible, but it was probably best not to flaunt his prowess—or lack thereof.
- : -
At the thought of carnal prospects, Ho Ji-Ch’ing became aroused. 
The poorly-timed arousal had come out of nowhere. At his age and after staying celibate for the better part of the year, it seemed only natural that he’d be a bit stirred up over a few sensual thoughts. He snuck a hand into his pyjama bottoms and took a hold of his eager little friend, wondering why it suddenly decided to perk up instead going to sleep. Even if he actually found it a hole, would it be able to crawl inside?
He tugged on it gently for a while but did not come, much to his surprise. He began to loathe the useless thing—instead of being a quick shot as usual, it had to play tenacious this time! But who had the patience to take care of it in the middle of the night? 
He threw back the covers and called out softly: “Hsiao-Shun.”
Hsiao-Shun jolted upright from his soundless slumber. “What is it, Ch’i-ye?”
Ho Ji-Ch’ing drew down his pyjama bottoms and dropped his feet to the floor. “Come over here.”
It was a cloudy night and there were no streetlights outside, so darkness masked the room quite thoroughly. Hsiao-Shun fumbled his way to the bed and felt a tug on his shirt. “Kneel.”
Baffled, Hsiao Shun thought he was going to be beaten again, but he resigned himself to his fate and got on his knees.
Ho Ji-Ch’ing pushed Hsiao-Shun’s head between his bare thighs. “Open your mouth.”
- : -
The only thing Hsiao-Shun could provide during the occasion was an unskilled mouth, but for Ho Ji-Ch’ing, it was enough.
He quickly spent himself inside the hot cavity. The room was too dark for him to see Hsiao-Shun’s expression; he only knew the boy was still kneeling between his legs.
He patted Hsiao-Shun on the head. “Swallow it.”
Among the silence, he heard the soft sound of swallowing.
He let out a laugh. “Does it tastes good?”
“Yes,” Hsiao-Shun answered lowly.
He gave Hsiao-Shun a kick in the chest. “Scram, then!”
Hsiao-Shun got up silently and crawled back under his covers in the corner.