Shoutout to Kari for the commission!
Unlike the last time they held hands, this time Le Cheng could clearly feel Zhou Shirui’s warmth.
His hands weren’t small, they were average for a guy, with slender fingers, but even so, Zhou Shirui’s hand still completely enveloped his.
His knuckles were defined and strong from years of working out and playing basketball. Le Cheng lowered his gaze to look at their joined hands; Zhou Shirui wasn’t clasping his hand in return, but his thumb rested lightly on the back of his hand, creating a slightly rough sensation.
His heart settled, and Le Cheng surreptitiously observed Zhou Shirui’s remarkably calm profile, realizing that holding hands was nothing out of the ordinary for Zhou Shirui.
Although he’d expected this all along, Le Cheng still felt a bit deflated.
But… this also meant that, from now on, he wouldn’t have to be so extra careful about avoiding physical contact with Zhou Shirui.
Up until now, Le Cheng had been afraid of provoking Zhou Shirui too much, so even the most ordinary physical contact between two guys, he’d avoided it whenever possible.
Could it be… that Zhou Shirui isn’t as homoph*bic as he used to be?
It seems people really do build up immunity over time…
Le Cheng’s mind wandered, and as he lost focus, the smooth cobblestone path proved tricky to navigate. His left foot suddenly slipped, causing him to lose his balance and lean to one side. Zhou Shirui instantly grabbed his hand and pulled him back with a strong arm.
Le Cheng crashed into him with a “thud.”
Zhou Shirui stood firmly, not moving, and frowned. “Why are you daydreaming while walking?”
Le Cheng’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked a bit embarrassed. “I was thinking about something.”
Their fingers, which had been loosely intertwined just a moment ago, were now clasped so tightly they left no space between them. Le Cheng’s hand was completely enveloped, their knuckles pressed tightly together, so intimately that he could almost feel the other’s heartbeat.
Zhou Shirui was still speaking: “You shouldn’t walk like that when someone’s right beside you…” His voice trailed off abruptly. Zhou Shirui paused in surprise, feeling a strange, ticklish sensation in the palm of his hand.
It was Le Cheng gently tickling the palm of his hand.
It didn’t hurt; it was just ticklish, like the paws of a cat that had retracted its claws, causing Zhou Shirui’s heart to clench in response.
His lips moved slightly, but no sound came out. He looked down at Le Cheng, but the culprit wore an innocent expression, even flashing a well-behaved, adorable smile. His big eyes crinkled as he whispered, “I know, I won’t do that again. Don’t be mad at me, okay?”
His tone was so lighthearted that it didn’t seem like an apology, yet there was nothing to fault in it.
Zhou Shirui felt as if he’d been pricked by the boy’s smile. He said nothing, loosening his grip, though not completely, and simply let Le Cheng hold onto him loosely, worried the boy might slip again.
When they reached the hot spring pool, Le Cheng let go and happily jumped into the water.
The rim of this hot spring pool was jet black, and the water steamed hotly. Looking out, the greenery and rooftops were covered with a thin layer of snow; the sky was deep blue, and the black and white seemed to sketch out a warm, vivid oil painting.
They had reserved a two-person pool. Le Cheng was completely submerged in the water and felt very comfortable. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, his eyelashes dampened by the steam.
His clothes were completely soaked. The fabric of his white T-shirt was very thin. Le Cheng wiped his face with his hand, opened his eyes, and saw Zhou Shirui standing just two meters away from him, at the far end of the pool.
Le Cheng felt like laughing. Just a moment ago, he’d thought Zhou Shirui wasn’t homoph*bic, but now he’d rather have him eight hundred meters away. Unable to hold back, he let the corners of his lips curl slightly and chuckled out loud.
Zhou Shirui looked straight at him.
Le Cheng met his gaze with bright eyes. Suddenly feeling like playing a joke, he asked deliberately, “Zhou Shirui, why are you standing so far away from me?”
Zhou Shirui pursed his lips, his expression impassive. “How close would be close enough?”
Le Cheng started walking toward him through the water. “At least this close…”
“Huh?” Le Cheng stopped in his tracks. Something suddenly caught his eye, upon closer inspection, it was a Band-Aid.
His wound had already healed completely; this Band-Aid was the one Zhou Shirui had handed him and applied this very morning.
Although this was their pool, Le Cheng didn’t want to leave trash behind. He reached out to grab it, but his movement was a bit too abrupt, sending a huge splash of water flying.
Le Cheng held the Band-Aid in his palm and looked up. It was clear the splash had been quite large, it had even splashed over onto Zhou Shirui, who was standing nearby.
Zhou Shirui’s hair, face, and body were all soaked. His black T-shirt clung to his well-defined muscles, and droplets of water trickled down his chiseled features.
He was still handsome, though a bit disheveled.
It was rare to see Zhou Shirui like this; there was a strangely endearing contrast.
Le Cheng stifled a laugh as he said, “I’m sorry.” He quickly swam over and, holding back a smile, asked, “Are you okay? I’m sorry, hahaha.”
His apology was hardly sincere, it even seemed deliberate. Zhou Shirui swept his wet hair completely back, revealing a smooth forehead. His long eyebrows were sharp; without his glasses, and without that thin layer of lenses to obstruct his gaze, his narrow eyes narrowed, revealing a wildness unlike anything he’d shown before.
This sight left Le Cheng momentarily stunned: “Um…”
“Splash!”
Suddenly, a spray of water flashed before his eyes. Le Cheng was suddenly splashed in the face. He reacted quickly, twisting his body to step back, and as he retreated, he said in shock, “Zhou Shirui! How dare you ambush me!”
Le Cheng began to fight back. The two of them churned the water in the pool, sending it flying everywhere. It was so hot that Le Cheng, dodging and playing, was a bit out of breath. Laughing, he pleaded pitifully for mercy: “Zhou Shirui… I can’t beat you, I can’t catch my breath.”
Zhou Shirui did indeed stop. Through the mist, he walked up to him, his scorching fingers gently brushing his cheek, then he lifted his hand, his expression focused and serious: “Take a deep breath. It must be too hot.”
Le Cheng took a deep breath, repeating it several times.
Zhou Shirui asked, “Are you feeling better?”
“Mm… much better…” Le Cheng suddenly held out one hand and flung it wide. “Surprise attack!”
Speckles of water flew out. Caught off guard, Zhou Shirui closed his eyes. After a two-second pause, he wiped the water away, showing no sign of anger, just a hint of exasperation.
He rarely showed such a lively side, so Le Cheng leaned in and asked, somewhat childishly, “Zhou Shirui, are you mad?”
“No.” Zhou Shirui lowered his gaze; he didn’t feel angry. Le Cheng’s childish behavior merely stirred a slight flutter in his heart.
He smiled ever so slightly and murmured, “…If you can’t beat them, you have to sneak attack.”
Le Cheng coughed twice: “So did I win? ”
Water droplets trickled down his damp forehead, as if they were about to run into his eyes. Zhou Shirui gave a soft “Mm” and helped him wipe them away.
It’s not good to soak in the hot spring for too long, it can make you dizzy, so they climbed out.
They walked back to their room, still dripping wet. Zhou Shirui told Le Cheng to take a shower first. Le Cheng quickly finished showering and came out, changing into clean clothes.
Zhou Shirui took the clothes into the bathroom, and soon the sound of rushing water filled the room. Le Cheng took out his laptop, connected it to the drawing tablet, sat cross-legged on the bed, and got ready to sketch something.
He thought back to what had just happened.
It was quite interesting and had a great atmosphere. He scribbled away, revising the pose he’d drawn earlier and adding the elements requested by Xiao Chen Extremely Rich, then produced a rough sketch.
He sent both versions of the sketches to Xiao Chen Extremely Rich, asking them to pick the one she liked best.
Xiao Chen Extremely Rich finally settled on the second version Le Cheng had drawn.
By the time Zhou Shirui came out, drying his hair, Le Cheng was already inking the lines.
He was drawing intently. He glanced up at Zhou Shirui, hesitating slightly about whether to put it away.
But upon second thought, he quickly regained his confidence.
He was drawing anime-style illustrations, even if Zhou Shirui saw them, so what? He’d never guess who they were supposed to be.
After all, the facial proportions in anime are different from those of real people; no one would think of that, right?
Le Cheng kept his head down as he drew. When Zhou Shirui walked past him, he looked up, feeling a little guilty, and stammered, “Are you… hungry?”
“No, I’m not.” Zhou Shirui’s gaze drifted naturally from Le Cheng’s fair cheeks to the drawing board. He paused briefly before asking, “Do you want something to eat?”
“No.” Le Cheng shook his head and quickly added, “Then you should go dry your hair. You’ll catch a cold.”
Zhou Shirui gave a soft “Mm-hmm” and looked at his graphics tablet. “Is this a private commission?”
“Yeah,” Le Cheng explained. “It’s just… I take on a few commissions here and there to make some money. I hadn’t mentioned it to you before.”
Zhou Shirui didn’t react, turning to blow-dry his hair.
Le Cheng let out a sigh of relief.
Zhou Shirui picked up the hair dryer. Even though Le Cheng looked completely natural, he still recognized that the person Le Cheng was drawing was him.
Perhaps Le Cheng wasn’t even aware of it himself, but when he drew a specific person, or a certain type, he had some unique preferences, using specific elements and techniques.
Zhou Shirui had observed this in minute detail.
It was clearly a drawing of him, yet Le Cheng had lied and called it a personal sketch.
After learning of Le Cheng’s feelings, Zhou Shirui had chosen to selectively ignore the matter, but at that moment, the thought returned, reminding him of the imbalance in their relationship.
Le Cheng harbors unspoken feelings for him, yet he cannot offer Le Cheng a future. Still, he doesn’t want to see Le Cheng deceived by a bad guy, nor does he want to see Le Cheng hurt.
Lowering his gaze to ponder for a moment, Zhou Shirui turned off the hair dryer, stood up, and handed Le Cheng the dessert he’d bought on his way upstairs.
Le Cheng didn’t look up, merely glancing at him briefly: “Put that over there for now. I’ll eat it after I finish drawing.”
“Finish drawing?” Zhou Shirui furrowed his brow. “So are you even going to sleep tonight?”
“Of course I am.” Le Cheng replied confidently. Then, as if he’d misinterpreted Zhou Shirui’s meaning, he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t disturb you. I’ll turn it off once we go to bed.”
“We go to bed”, Zhou Shirui’s heart was suddenly tugged again: “…I’ll sleep on the couch later. You don’t have to worry about me.”
At the very beginning of their relationship, Zhou Shirui had already made it clear to Le Cheng that he didn’t like guys and couldn’t accept intimate contact with them; even if they gave it a try, it probably wouldn’t end well.
So making this request now was perfectly reasonable.
Zhou Shirui pursed his lips as he thought to himself: relationships between men and women are fleeting by nature. He considered himself a somewhat dull person; perhaps after repeated reminders like this, with clear boundaries, Le Cheng would realize it was too difficult and back off on his own. By then, they could break up, and he could still remain friends with Le Cheng.
Le Cheng has such a good personality, he’d make a great friend.
“Huh?” Le Cheng nodded. “You’re going to sleep on the couch? …All right, I get it.”
Zhou Shirui studied his expression: “Mm, finish your dessert, brush your teeth, and be in bed by 11.”
Le Cheng nodded obediently; since he didn’t usually stay up late, this was about his usual bedtime anyway. Zhou Shirui’s request to sleep on the couch also didn’t surprise him in the least.
After drawing for a while longer, Le Cheng went to wash up, crawled into bed, and turned off the light. The room was pitch black; he propped up to glance at the couch, feeling a bit guilty: “Zhou Shirui… won’t you fall off if you roll over?”
Zhou Shirui kept his eyes closed: “No.”
“Really?” Le Cheng asked deliberately. “You won’t make a thud, will you? Don’t wake me up.”
“……” Zhou Shirui was silent for a moment. “There’s a rug. It won’t wake you up.”
“I don’t believe you,” Le Cheng said. “Unless you let me try sleeping there.”
Zhou Shirui opened his eyes in the darkness, wondering what Le Cheng meant. Did he want to sleep with him?
Then he heard Le Cheng say, “Otherwise, I’ll sleep on the couch and you can sleep in the bed. I’m smaller.”
“……” Zhou Shirui closed his eyes briefly. “No need. Go to sleep.”
All right.
Having been turned down, Le Cheng had no choice but to roll over, and before long, he drifted off to sleep.
Early the next morning, Le Cheng woke up unusually early. He opened his eyes lazily and caught a glimpse of a man’s silhouette out of the corner of his eye. His mind didn’t register it right away, and he mumbled groggily, “Xiaobai…”
Zhou Shirui turned around. “You awake?”
Only then did Le Cheng come to his senses: “…Huh?”
Zhou Shirui asked, “Who did you just call?”
“Oh… Xiaobai.” Le Cheng rubbed his eyes. “I thought I was in the dorm, so I called out Xiaobai.”
Satisfied with the reasonable explanation, Zhou Shirui said nothing more. Looking at Le Cheng’s face, flushed from sleep, he said briefly, “Go get ready. Let’s go eat.”
“Okay…” Le Cheng stood up, lost in thought. His back felt a little itchy, so he scratched it while yawning.
After breakfast, Xu Yuan and the others asked Le Cheng to come out and play, but he turned them down.
He had to get right back to drawing his sketches, as quickly as possible, to give his customers the best experience.
Le Cheng leaned back on the bed, drawing in a relaxed posture, while Zhou Shirui sat at the desk, wearing glasses, his fingertips intently tapping away.
Apart from the rustling sound of the capacitive pen and the clicks of the silent keyboard, the room was quiet. Le Cheng drew for two and a half hours straight before finally taking a break to look up, stretch, and see what Zhou Shirui was doing.
Zhou Shirui had stopped typing; it looked like he was playing a game.
Le Cheng had good eyesight. When he looked closely, the game interface looked familiar, he’d seen it posted on Zhou Shirui’s social media feed.
Zhou Shirui’s studio was currently developing an indie adventure game. As Le Cheng looked at the bright, lively art style, he became a bit intrigued. He stood up and watched Zhou Shirui maneuver the keyboard, his slender fingers controlling the character with extremely smooth and stylish movements.
Even though Le Cheng didn’t understand the mechanics, he could tell the gameplay was top-notch.
As someone who’s hopeless at video games, Le Cheng was quite envious.
He’d been watching for too long, and Zhou Shirui noticed. He took off his headphones and looked at him: “Am I bothering you?”
“No.” Le Cheng hesitated for a moment. “It’s just… are you testing the game?”
“Yeah.” Zhou Shirui admitted. “Just checking how it feels.”
Le Cheng’s eyes lit up: “Can I give it a try?”
“Sure.” Zhou Shirui asked him, “Do you know how to play?”
“I know, I know.” Le Cheng had been watching from the side for quite a while, so he understood that console games generally involve pressing buttons.
Zhou Shirui stood up and made room for him, then bent over slightly, resting one arm on the table, his expression serious: “Give it a try.”
This posture made it look as if he were embracing Le Cheng from behind. Le Cheng confidently controlled his character, but his reaction time was as slow as an elderly person’s, perhaps because he spent so much time hunched over his drawing desk, which had strained his cervical spine, leading to poor blood flow and slower reflexes.
After being defeated yet again by the monsters’ flashy skills that kept popping up, Le Cheng’s palms began to sweat.
He looked a little discouraged: “I can’t do this. My reaction time is too slow.”
He pushed the keyboard forward, the corners of his mouth turning down in an expression that seemed both frustrated and aggrieved.
“No,” Zhou Shirui said softly, gripping the armrest of his chair. “That’s not the problem. There’s a trick to this level. Let me show you.”
Zhou Shirui took over the controls himself, adjusted the game’s control scheme, and placed one hand on the number keys to demonstrate the technique for Le Cheng.
He tilted his head slightly downward; Le Cheng was sitting extremely close to him, and his warm breath brushed against Le Cheng’s ear, making it tickle. Le Cheng instinctively shook his head, his hair brushing against Zhou Shirui’s chin, causing Zhou Shirui to pause briefly.
Le Cheng thought Zhou Shirui was so skilled that he decided to let him teach him how to play. After finally defeating the boss, Le Cheng was overjoyed and felt a great sense of accomplishment.
Eager for approval, he asked, “How did I do this time?”
“Very well,” Zhou Shirui said slowly. “You’re not slow, you’ve just probably never played this type of game before, so you couldn’t react in time.”
Le Cheng felt a bit touched and a bit happy; his eyes crinkled at the corners: “Senior Zhou… you really know how to say the right things.”
“It’s not just flattery,” Zhou Shirui said earnestly. “It’s the truth.”
“Okay.” Le Cheng’s stomach growled. “Then let’s go get something to eat?”
“Mm-hmm.” Zhou Shirui nodded.
Over dinner, Le Cheng asked Zhou Shirui about his progress on the game here and there.
He figured it should be fine, after all, he wouldn’t steal Zhou Shirui’s creative work like in the original storyline.
When Zhou Shirui started talking about the game, he became a bit more talkative; just a few simple sentences were enough for Le Cheng to understand what was on his mind.
Zhou Shirui’s studio didn’t have a dedicated artist; all the art was outsourced. Le Cheng thought for a moment, since he’d just played the game himself, he offered a suggestion from an artist’s perspective: “Actually, the visuals could be a bit brighter, use orange tones. As for the monsters’ designs, they could be made to look more like mutated plants, like this.”
He dipped the tip of his chopstick in water and sketched a rough outline on the black tabletop. Only after finishing did he realize he’d spoken a bit too much: “It’s just a suggestion, take it or leave it.”
Zhou Shirui’s gaze lingered for a moment. It seemed as though Le Cheng was born for this line of work; even his casual sketch had given him new inspiration.
After dinner, they went to soak in the hot springs again. This time they chose the rose-scented pool, the experience was just so-so, and it felt like their skin had turned pink from the soak. That evening, Le Cheng didn’t have dinner with Xu Yuan; instead, he went out for Japanese cuisine with Zhou Shirui. After returning to his room, Le Cheng flopped onto the bed and lazed around for a while before finally getting back to finishing the drawing he hadn’t completed.
He discussed the desired color scheme with Xiao Chen Extremely Rich again; he generally consulted with clients at every step to make the collaboration more enjoyable.
He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but after painting intently for a while, Le Cheng felt the room getting colder and colder, so cold that his painting hands began to stiffen and go numb. Zhou Shirui stood up from his computer, glanced at the shivering
Le Cheng, looked up, furrowed his brow, and said, “The AC is broken.”
It was 10 p.m. in northern China during winter, and the AC was broken.
This was nothing short of terrifying.
Le Cheng rubbed his hands together. Zhou Shirui said, “Crawl under the covers first. Stop drawing.”
Le Cheng was dressed lightly, wearing only a nightgown. Upon hearing this, he crawled under the covers, leaving only his head exposed, and asked with wide, round eyes, “What should we do now?”
Zhou Shirui called the front desk. The receptionist was very apologetic, it was too late to find a repairman, and since it was the peak hot spring season, all the rooms were fully booked, so they couldn’t switch rooms either. The receptionist apologetically said they would check with the manager to see if they could refund part of the room rate.
Le Cheng peeked out: “How did it go?”
Zhou Shirui said, “No luck. It’s too late.”
As he was about to open the door to go out, Le Cheng asked him, “Where are you going?”
Zhou Shirui replied, “To the convenience store.”
Le Cheng wasn’t quite sure what was going on. He curled up into a ball under the covers, and before long, he heard Zhou Shirui open the door and come back in, holding several hand warmers, a few hot water bottles, and a hot water bottle.
“Huh?” Le Cheng’s eyes lit up. “So that’s what you went to buy.”
Zhou Shirui filled the hot water bottles and hot water pouches, lifted Le Cheng’s blanket, and slipped them inside. The bed instantly felt warm and cozy.
Le Cheng kicked the hot water pouch with his foot and immediately exclaimed, “Wow! It’s so warm!”
His hands and feet weren’t cold anymore, and he didn’t feel cold all over either.
Le Cheng watched as Zhou Shirui filled another one, then thought for a moment and said, “Let’s sleep in the bed together tonight.”
Zhou Shirui looked at him.
Le Cheng added, “It’s too cold, you’ll definitely catch a cold sleeping on the couch.”
That made sense; refusing now would just seem like he was being difficult. Zhou Shirui pulled out the other blanket from the closet, made the bed, turned off the light, and climbed in.
The bed was large enough that the two of them weren’t cramped.
Though they’d gone to bed early, Le Cheng wasn’t the least bit sleepy. Looking for something to talk about, he asked Zhou Shirui, “Are you cold?”
“No, I’m not.”
Le Cheng turned his head. In the faint moonlight, he could see clearly that Zhou Shirui was lying on his back, his long eyelashes half-lowered, his eyes closed.
They weren’t too close or too far apart, it didn’t seem out of place. Feeling a bit bored, Le Cheng replied, “I’m not cold either.”
Zhou Shirui didn’t respond.
Le Cheng closed his eyes, feeling a bit drowsy, but his mind remained clear. He’d never gone to sleep at this hour before, so now he simply couldn’t fall asleep.
Besides, Zhou Shirui was lying right next to him. Even though they weren’t under the same blanket, there was still someone there, making it hard for him to ignore.
After holding out for about half an hour, Le Cheng realized Zhou Shirui’s breathing was steady; he must have fallen asleep. Unable to resist, he secretly pulled out his phone, hoping to listen to some ASMR to help him fall asleep. He set his phone to the dimmest screen and quietest volume, then fished his Bluetooth earbuds out from under his pillow.
He’d used the Bluetooth earbuds before bed, but hadn’t put them back in the charging case. The phone screen was too dim to tell which was the left earbud and which was the right. He had a quirk when listening to ASMR: he had to distinguish between the left and right ears, otherwise he couldn’t get into it.
Le Cheng strained his eyes, holding one earbud and examining the engraving on it. He finally managed to tell which was the right one, but in a moment of inattention, the left earbud he’d left on the comforter was gone.
Afraid that making too much noise would wake Zhou Shirui, Le Cheng simply reached out a hand and slowly felt along the comforter.
He moved his hand slowly, trying to find something hard.
Zhou Shirui opened his eyes in the darkness, his expression hard to read.
A faint glimmer of light made it immediately clear to him that Le Cheng seemed to be touching him.
This realization left him stunned, his feelings in turmoil, unsure whether he should pretend to be asleep.
Zhou Shirui held back for a moment, he didn’t want to embarrass Le Cheng, but that mischievous hand showed no sign of stopping, gradually moving toward a place that was off-limits.
Zhou Shirui quickly furrowed his brow. To avoid any awkward situations, he couldn’t help but grab Le Cheng’s hand and asked, with some restraint, “What are you doing?”
His deep voice sounded jarring in the quiet room. Le Cheng was taken aback, feeling a bit awkward and unable to react immediately: “N-nothing. Why aren’t you asleep?”
Zhou Shirui hadn’t been asleep to begin with; his mind had just been a bit foggy. He pursed his lips: “You… well, woke me up.”
Le Cheng didn’t hear him clearly. “What?”
Zhou Shirui didn’t let go of his wrist. “What are you touching?”
Le Cheng wanted to say that he couldn’t sleep and was touching his earphones, but just as the words reached his lips, his brain suddenly short-circuited and he remembered his “upgraded Plan C.” So he licked his lips and changed it to, “I, I’m just touching around randomly. Is that not okay?”
Zhou Shirui was silent for two seconds. “No.”
Le Cheng pretended to be clueless and said awkwardly, “What do you mean, no?”
Zhou Shirui’s voice was very low. “You can’t just touch around randomly.”
Le Cheng was amused by his serious tone and wanted to laugh, but held it back. Growing bolder, he said, “Then, then what if I touch seriously? Is that okay?”
His wrist seemed to be pinched in punishment. He heard Zhou Shirui say in a low voice, “Not allowed either, Le Cheng. You can’t learn bad habits.”
