Tòumíng patted Měi Nán's head awkwardly, trying to be comforting. "There, there. He's just jealous of your success."
Měi Nán didn't let go of his arm. Just kept hugging it, face pressed against Tòumíng's shoulder, showing no signs of releasing him anytime soon.
Tòumíng reached for his phone with his free hand and opened his messages, typing one-handed to his landlord: "Yeah so the house doesn't work for me anymore. Moving out tomorrow."
The landlord's response came five minutes later, a wall of text about lease agreements and security deposits and proper notice periods and legal obligations.
Tòumíng blocked him.
What was he going to do if Tòumíng didn't respond? Kick him out? That was literally the whole point. Good luck getting the rest of this month's rent from someone who'd already left.
He opened a real estate app on his phone, and Měi Nán perked up immediately, lifting his head from Tòumíng's shoulder.
"Oh, we're house shopping? I'm obviously living with you." It wasn't a question. "And I want the larger room. The master bedroom. With the ensuite bathroom."
"You haven't even been invited—"
"I want an infinity pool," Měi Nán continued, completely ignoring him. "Gated community for security. Daily maid service. Professional cleaner at least twice a week. Nothing smaller than three thousand square feet. Oh, and a chef's kitchen even though neither of us can cook."
Tòumíng stared at him. "Do you think I'm made of money?"
Měi Nán pouted, his eyes going wide and vulnerable, bottom lip jutting out in a practiced expression of devastation. "You don't think I'm cute enough to deserve nice things?" His voice went high and whiny. "After everything I've done for you? The lard? The emotional support? The—"
"It's a trick," Cupid warned. "Classic manipulation tactic. Don't fall for it."
"Actually," Tòumíng said firmly, pulling his arm free despite Měi Nán's protest, "I'm thinking a warehouse might be better."
"A warehouse?!" Měi Nán's pout intensified. "You want me to live in a warehouse like some kind of industrial vagrant?"
"Not a full warehouse. Like, half warehouse, half house. I need storage space. Inventory space. Somewhere to keep the gems I mine, somewhere to process them with my skills without neighbors asking questions." Tòumíng scrolled through listings. "Regular houses won't have that kind of setup."
He looked at the search results. Page after page of commercial warehouses. Cold, industrial spaces with concrete floors and metal walls. No living quarters. No amenities. Just storage.
"Fuck. Okay, what now?"
Maybe Měi Nán's idea had some merit. A nice house for actually living in, and then rent a separate warehouse space for the gem operation. Keep them separate. More expensive, but more practical.
The next thirty minutes dissolved into house shopping, with Měi Nán providing running commentary on every single listing.
"Ew, no. The kitchen is hideous."
"Pass. That neighborhood has terrible feng shui."
"Absolutely not. I can see the neighbor's windows. Where's the privacy?"
"The bathroom tiles are tragic. Next."
His standards were impossibly high, rejecting properties that would have been dream homes for ninety percent of the population. Too small. Wrong aesthetic. Bad location. Insufficient closet space. The pool was the wrong shape.
Tòumíng was about to suggest they lower their expectations when a listing caught his eye. Villa on Guanlan Lake. The price made him wince, way more than he wanted to spend—but the photos were undeniably impressive.
Before he could scroll past, Měi Nán snatched the phone from his hands.
"WAIT. Go back. That one. THAT ONE."
His eyes had gone wide, pupils dilating as he looked at the listing like it was the answer to every prayer he'd ever uttered. Golddigger mode: fully activated.
He scrolled through the photos with increasing excitement. "Look at this entrance! These ceilings! The marble! Oh my god, is that real marble or, yes, it's real, you can tell by the veining—"
Click. Next photo.
"Six bedrooms! I call dibs on the master! No, wait, the master AND the room with the bay windows for my closet! And this one can be a makeup room!"
Click. Next photo.
"A chef's kitchen! With two ovens! Why does anyone need two ovens? I don't care, I want it!"
Click. Next photo.
"INFINITY POOL."
Měi Nán shoved the phone back into Tòumíng's hands, his expression shifting to something between pleading and manic. "Buy that house! I'll do anything! I'll even suck your dic—"
"WOAHHHHHH!" Tòumíng's hand flew up to cover Měi Nán's mouth before he could finish that sentence. "STOP. Don't finish that. Don't say that."
Měi Nán's eyes crinkled with amusement above Tòumíng's hand.
Tòumíng lowered his hand slowly. "Don't you have your own place? Your own apartment?"
"Yeah, it's nice." Měi Nán waved dismissively. "I pay fifteen thousand yuan a month for it. Only three bedrooms though. Tiny kitchen. And I only eat out like five times a week because the neighborhood restaurants aren't that great. It's basically poverty living."
Tòumíng's jaw dropped. "BASICALLY POOR?!"
His current apartment—the one he was abandoning—cost three thousand yuan a month and required three months' rent upfront just to move in. Měi Nán's "basically poverty" apartment cost five times that and he was complaining about only having three bedrooms.
"Fifteen thousand yuan a month and you think you're poor?!"
"Well, compared to villas on Guanlan Lake, yes! Obviously!" Měi Nán gestured at the phone. "Have you seen that infinity pool? That's not poverty living. That's success. That's arriving. That's—"
"That's completely unrealistic for my budget!"
Měi Nán sighed dramatically, flopping back against the couch cushions like a Victorian maiden experiencing the vapors. "Ughhh, whatever. Just figure out where you wanna live so I can come over and 'accidentally' spend the night." He made air quotes around 'accidentally.' "Or maybe the week. Possibly the month. Who knows? Time is fluid when you're having fun."
Tòumíng looked at him suspiciously. "You're planning to move in, aren't you?"
"Planning implies uncertainty. I'm stating facts."
"You're going to sleep at my house twenty-four seven?"
"YEP."