Chapter 1
The sound echoed around Arthur White, lingering in the air for a long moment before it finally settled. He blinked in confusion before piecing together the words he heard: “I'm just a stand-in.” Sitting across from him, Orlando Vista slightly arched an eyebrow, a warm smile playing at the corners of his lips. His hair, casually swept back behind his ears, complemented his composed demeanor. To him, the situation was glaringly obvious—yet Arthur remained blissfully unaware. With his big, round eyes, Arthur stared at the handsome man in front of him, skepticism mingling with disbelief. “Do we even look alike?” In his muddled thoughts, he fixated on the oddity of the concept. Aren't stand-ins supposed to resemble the person they replace? But to Arthur, the two of them could not be more different. Orlando was momentarily taken aback; Arthur's response didn't align with his expectations. He took a tentative sip from his glass, scrutinizing Arthur closely. The young man's fresh face, with its soft, rounded features, curly hair framing his forehead, and vibrant eyes, struck Orlando as innocent yet alluring. His lips were plump and pink, forming a subtle pout. Orlando furrowed his brow. With a hint of detachment, he replied, “Maybe I looked a little like my younger self.” “Younger self? How old are you now?” Arthur mused for a moment before adding, “I’m twenty-one. I met Lucian Oak when I was eighteen.” “Time flies,” Orlando remarked with a languid smile, trying to read the emotions and thoughts flickering in Arthur's expressive gaze. Meanwhile, across town, Jasper Quincy never considered himself a patient person. But when he stumbled upon his childhood friend, Silas Quick, cheating on him, he was taken aback. “It’s over,” he said coolly, his voice holding a steady resolve as Silas broke down in tears. Jasper didn't even spare him a glance as he turned away, solidifying his decision. Later that night, as Arthur got tipsy, he unexpectedly found himself beside Jasper, equally inebriated. “You’re strikingly handsome. How about we head to the Five-Star Inn and spice things up?” he suggested, playfully nudging Jasper. Jasper smiled softly, “Sure, why not?” But when morning broke, Arthur barely remembered the promise he made to Jasper. So Jasper, with unrelenting patience, laid a trap like a hunter in The Meadow, waiting for Arthur to willingly stumble into his net. As time passed, the tender-hearted began to grow possessive, while the naive young man stayed blissfully unaware, inching closer and closer to the uncovering of this complicated web. When Lucian Oak finally woke up to his feelings for Arthur, he found himself in his expensive suit, a bouquet in hand, only to see Arthur curled up in another's embrace, laughing freely. The sight pierced his heart. And when Silas Quick eventually realized Jasper Quincy was the one worth keeping, he put on his sweetest, most innocent smile. But he was met with the sight of Jasper gently holding Arthur's waist, brushing their lips together. In the whirlwind of emotions and revelations, friendships shifted, and love blossomed in unexpected places. Both Arthur and Jasper found themselves at the heart of a story filled with laughter, heartache, and redemption—a reminder that love, at its core, is about respect. **End of Chapter 1**
Chapter 2
At 21, Orlando Vista bore a barely noticeable stiffness, prompting Arthur White to wonder aloud if young people today spoke so bluntly without a care for others’ opinions. Orlando frowned slightly, his gaze growing cold. “Thirty.” Unexpectedly, Arthur responded with sincere curiosity. “Really? You don’t look a day over twenty-five.” From what Arthur could see, Orlando had a youthful vibe about him, though thirty didn't exactly qualify as old. Furrowing his brow, Arthur murmured, “I guess I must be a budget version of you back in your youthful days.” His reasoning stemmed from years of binge-watching dramas and movies where entertainment gossip often had a young star stepping up to steal the spotlight from a more seasoned actor. Hearing this, Orlando’s lips curled into a delicate smile, the coolness in his eyes finally softening a bit. Arthur admired Orlando’s silky, cascading hair, his elegantly sculpted features, and even the way his faint smile radiated an otherworldly charm, his detached gaze giving off an exotic allure that was hard to ignore. Glancing at himself—round eyes, youthful dimples, and a chubby face—Arthur couldn't fathom how they could be seen as similar. They were clearly worlds apart. Deciding to drop the distraction, Arthur pulled out his phone and dialed Lucian Oak. Once Lucian answered, Arthur got straight to the point. “Lucian, do you have time to come back home?” Lucian, ensconced in his office while his assistant reported the day's agenda, glanced at his phone with annoyance. He gestured for his assistant to pause and then picked up the call. This was the first time Arthur’s voice had held such a commanding tone, and while Lucian felt a flicker of irritation, he replied, “Yes, I do.” “Great, see you in half an hour.” Before Lucian could inquire about the purpose of the call, Arthur had hung up. His assistant leaned in, whispering, “Sir, do you need to adjust any of your upcoming schedules?” Lucian rubbed his forehead. “Arrange a car to take me to Bamboo Grove.” “Of course.” Orlando could hardly believe Arthur dared to reach out to Lucian. Did Arthur not realize his standing? He raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping up on his lips, amusement shining in his eyes. “You’re not really hoping Lucian will come back to mediate for you, are you?” Arthur held the phone firmly, his clear, bright eyes locking onto Orlando’s. He shook his head. “No.” Orlando set his glass down casually and sauntered to the wine cabinet, retrieving a bottle of red wine. He place it in an ice bath to breathe, all the while behaving as if he were in the comfort of his own home, not giving a single thought to Arthur’s feelings. Dressed in a silk shirt and casual slacks, the rolled-up sleeves revealing slender, delicate wrists, he embodied an art piece in motion. Arthur, on the other hand, wore a simple t-shirt and shorts, his lips pursed as he stared vacantly at his black screen phone. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the situation, feeling an unsettling emptiness inside, as if he were a feather floating in the air—weightless and detached, unable to grasp gravity’s pull.
Chapter 3
Twenty minutes later, Lucian Oak arrived, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. His sharp features wore an expression that bordered on cold indifference, and he strolled in with an air of impatience. “What’s going on?” he asked. Orlando Vista merely tilted his head and offered a slight smile in response. Lucian shot him a weary glance. “What brings you here?” “Just thought I’d enjoy a drink and have a chat with your young admirer. Is that so wrong?” Orlando replied with an easy charm. The two men chatted casually, clearly engrossed in their own world, while Arthur White stood quietly to the side, feeling utterly invisible. He watched as the typically aloof Lucian displayed an unexpected hint of weariness and amusement, contrasting with Orlando's confidence that seemed to assert his claim. Voices echoed, both near and distant, as Arthur perceived their expressions and gestures—a blend of clarity and haze. He felt like a spectator in a movie, observing two protagonists and himself seated in the audience. In the vast Grand Hall, he was the sole viewer, taking in the unfolding drama on the screen before him. A wave of nausea surged through him, originating deep within, pooling in his stomach and spreading throughout his body. Arthur had to press his hand against his mouth to suppress the retching. Instead of making a hasty retreat from this suffocating environment, he calmly pulled out a tissue, wiping drool from his lips and the palms of his hands. The noise on the sofa finally drew the attention of the other two. Lucian frowned and approached from the bar. “What’s wrong?” Orlando, unfazed by Arthur’s distress, grabbed several glasses and poured them full of red wine. “Yin Min, would you like a drink?” he asked, addressing Lucian. Lucian settled onto one end of the sofa, crossing his legs casually, and absentmindedly set his wine glass down, opting instead for a cup of water. “Just drink some water,” he said. Arthur pushed the cup aside, the water inside rippling wildly before it spilled over the edge, leaving a few droplets on the table. He looked up at the pair, steeling himself. “I have a few questions for you.” His tone was surprisingly calm, even cold, and he surprised himself with this composure. Thoughts fluttered in his mind like autumn leaves caught on an overhanging eave, wet and clinging to the crumbling wall. Lucian eyed the displaced water glass with a subtle frown, a flicker of annoyance passing over his features, but he restrained himself. “What do you want to ask?” Arthur got straight to the point, gesturing toward Orlando, who seemed to be enjoying the show. “Am I just his stand-in?” Orlando choked on his wine unexpectedly, his red lips glistening with droplets—awkward, yet still charming. He hadn't anticipated someone to be so blunt. Lucian’s brows knitted together, and his demeanor shifted to one of arrogant severity. “What are you talking about? Who told you that?” Arthur’s first encounter with Lucian had sparked an inexplicable notion that he resembled Orlando in some way. He had mentioned it casually when asked. “Whoever told you that should've been more careful," Lucian scowled, irritation evident. Understanding dawned on Arthur, prompting him to blink slowly. “So we’re not in a relationship; it’s more of a… arrangements type of situation?” His deep, dark eyes shone like polished obsidian. Normally cheerful, they radiated a boyish innocence. Yet now, he pressed his lips together, the glimmer in his eyes searching Lucian’s with a shattered sparkle. “You think I’m a bit like him and decided to keep me around, making me your little moonlight substitute?”
Chapter 4
Lucian Oak's gaze was sharp and penetrating like that of an eagle. As he raised his eyelids slightly, he wore an expression of both confusion and reluctance, unwilling to explain what had happened with his friend ten days ago. It didn’t help that Orlando Vista was standing nearby, arching an eyebrow and chuckling, as if he found amusement in Lucian’s predicament. With a pained sigh, Lucian addressed him, "Don't get the wrong idea." Orlando Vista let out a melodious laugh, his charm shining through. "I’m not misunderstanding anything at all." Unconcerned, Orlando continued to chat amiably with his own white moonlight, the one who shined in his life, while Lucian struggled to relay the truth, trying to clarify that things were not as they seemed. “It's actually like this,” Arthur White muttered, his eyes downcast, yet the light that normally sparkled in them was clouded over. His once radiant obsidian gaze appeared dull now, as he murmured, “Turns out I’m not in a romantic relationship; instead, I’m being kept as someone else's substitute.” Lucian Oak rubbed his temples, bewildered by Arthur’s crumpled perspective on their situation. Did Arthur think he desired him as a lover? As that notion crossed Lucian’s mind, he felt an uncharacteristic stirring within himself, lips pressed together thoughtfully. Just as Lucian was about to say something, Arthur suddenly shot up, grabbing the glass of water from the table and hurling its contents toward Lucian with furious intent. Lucian was taken aback, drenched from head to toe, confusion mixing with outrage as he exclaimed, "What are you doing?" Arthur's eyes ignited with brilliance once again, flames of indignation swirling in their depths. He stared at Lucian without blinking, speaking each word with fierce clarity, “I won’t be a substitute, nor do I wish to be kept. I’m nothing like your white moonlight!” With those words, Arthur snatched the glass from Orlando Vista's hand and, without hesitation, tossed its contents in his direction. “I have no interest in playing your game of romantic rivalry! And spare me your pity, your so-called war, your claims of ownership. I refuse to participate in this tiresome contest for affection.” Truthfully, Orlando’s blatant display of territoriality as soon as he entered the room had been ridiculous. It was also utterly baffling. Why was he being dragged into this mess without so much as a thought for his feelings? Arthur set the glass down and, without looking back, headed toward Grandfather’s estate. Orlando, now soaked, wiped his face and chuckled, “Looks like your young lover has a bit of a temper, doesn’t he? Feels pretty entitled, doesn’t he?” This was Lucian Oak’s first experience getting splashed with water, and it couldn’t have been more humiliating. An ember of anger flared up inside him as he watched Arthur storm away, yet along with it was an inexplicable feeling that he couldn’t quite place. He scoffed at Orlando, “Entitled? Just let him be.” So it turned out he was just a stand-in. Just a mere substitute. Damn it, who would want to be a substitute? He had read enough online about the “white moonlight” being the unattainable ideal while one’s hidden feelings went for someone they could never own. Wasn’t Lucian Oak’s real affection meant for the perfect one, unlike him? Just a low-quality version, someone who happened to resemble the one he truly favored, which was why Lucian decided to keep him around. Life as a downgrade, nothing more than an inferior replica. That thought stung like a fresh wound.
Chapter 5
Arthur White raised his arm, roughly wiping away his tears. He had been deceived. Deceived! The August sun beat down harshly, radiating an almost scorched smell from the asphalt. Arthur had no idea how long he had been walking, or even where he was now. He stood alone on the street, feeling lost and furious, bewildered and heartbroken. After an indeterminate amount of time, his phone rang. Pulling it out, he saw it was his best friend. “Hey, Sheepish Mary, are you standing on the street? We’re at the diner across from you, and there’s a striking guy here who looks just like you!” Arthur bit his lip, the feelings of resentment that had been building deep inside him suddenly erupting. He crouched down by the side of the road, breaking into loud, uncontrollable sobs. “What the heck is going on with you?” “Why do I hear crying on the other end of the line? Is that you, Sheepish Mary?” A guy peered out the car window, looking anxious. “It really is Young Arthur! Why is he squatting on the side of the road crying?” “Sheepish Mary, please don’t cry! We’ll be right over!” Several guys anxiously rushed out from their booth, panting as they crossed the street to lift Arthur up. “Why are you sweating so much?” “What’s got you crying like this?” “Your face is so red. You’re not getting heatstroke, are you?” In the midst of his tears, Arthur felt a mix of embarrassment and sorrow wash over him, surrounded by his concerned friends. He couldn’t quite articulate the hurt he felt, but their genuine worry only deepened his emotional turmoil as they crowded around him, faces filled with concern.
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