The curtain separating the living room from the balcony wasn’t drawn, and lightning flashed outside the glass walls enclosing the balcony amid crashing thunder. The water vapor permeating the heavens couldn’t breach the thick windows to enter the room, but Bai Ying still looked as pitiful as a small animal drenched to the skin.
Tan Ming watched him sip his milk in small mouthfuls, struggling to suppress the urge to pull him into his arms.
Bai Ying curled up in the chair, perfectly enveloped by the eggshell design, which gave him a precious sense of security thanks to its unique structure. He hugged his knees, with only half a palm peeking out from the oversized pajama sleeve. His feet had been properly tucked under the blanket before, but when he handed the empty cup to Tan Ming, a bit slipped out by accident.
It was like a touch of pale red on white jade. Tan Ming glanced at it once and hurriedly looked away, reaching out to pull Bai Ying’s blanket down a little.
“Don’t catch a cold,” Tan Ming said, trying his best to be a proper gentleman.
But Bai Ying nodded obediently, and his damp, glistening gaze made it hard for Tan Ming to stay gentlemanly.
Tan Ming quickly turned away. He recalled a strange tale he had once adapted into a script. In the depth of a stormy midnight, a scholar was still burning the midnight oil in his room when someone suddenly knocked on his door. Raindrops shattered into mist that blurred everything between heaven and earth, yet a stunning beauty with a face like gleaming jade appeared at the door, looking utterly pitiful as she begged to come in and shelter from the rain.
But that was actually a man-eating demon. She clung to the scholar’s shoulder with a charming smile, stirring the gentleman’s heartstrings. Yet the moment the scholar revealed his lust, the demon would swallow him whole.
Tan Ming felt like he was undergoing a similar trial.
If he couldn’t hold back… he wouldn’t die, but his love would be doomed.
Tan Ming obediently soaked the cup in the sink, poured another glass of hot water in case Bai Ying got thirsty, and hurried to draw the balcony curtain to keep the constant flashes of lightning from startling him.
Bai Ying’s gaze followed him, as if afraid his figure might vanish from sight.
Tan Ming clutched his chest. This trial was too arduous.
Tan Ming walked back to Bai Ying, squatted down, and looked up at him. He grasped one of Bai Ying’s fingers peeking from the sleeve and asked warmly, “Still scared?”
Bai Ying said pitifully, “I don’t dare sleep alone.”
Tan Ming closed his eyes in agony.
Stop testing this cadre!
He asked with difficulty, “Then tonight… do you want to sleep here?”
***
It was Bai Ying’s first time entering Tan Ming’s bedroom.
Only after asking did Tan Ming remember there was no guest room. The apartment wasn’t small—one living room and three bedrooms in theory—but Tan Ming had never imagined anyone else living here, so he had turned one side room into a study and the other into a home theater.
Tan Ming had no choice but to steel himself and lead Bai Ying to his own bedroom.
Bai Ying didn’t find it the least bit ambiguous; the unfamiliar environment only sparked some curiosity in him. Tan Ming had a touch of OCD; the bedroom was impeccably clean and orderly. A flameless diffuser in the corner emitted the scent of little cymbidiums, perfectly balanced—not too strong or weak. The delicate, gentle fragrance calmed Bai Ying’s mind a bit more.
“The bedsheets and duvet cover were changed yesterday. If you’re not comfortable, I can grab another set,” Tan Ming said, his gaze drifting. He felt like he was walking on clouds.
“No need.” Bai Ying expressed his thanks. “Tan Ming, you’re a really good person.”
Tan Ming: “…”
It was a nice guy card, but still a compliment!
Once Bai Ying burrowed into the bed and Tan Ming realized the object of his affections was lying under the covers he had slept in, he was so thrilled he could have run ten laps around the complex in the pouring rain.
“If you feel cold,” Tan Ming said, trying to steady his voice, “I’ll get you a hot water bottle.”
Bai Ying shook his head. “No need. This is fine.”
The bedding was cold—he had messaged Tan Ming when he clearly hadn’t gone to sleep yet. Bai Ying noticed the computer screen lighting up on the desk not far from the bed and asked, “Tan Ming, are you still working?”
Tan Ming nodded. “I planned to finish a scene tonight… Is the screen light too bright? I’ll take the computer to the study.”
“…No need.” Bai Ying stretched a hand out from under the covers and grabbed Tan Ming’s shirt hem. “Can you stay here? I don’t want to be alone.”
The shadow of the nightmare hadn’t fully dissipated. He didn’t dare be by himself; alone, he couldn’t help growing paranoid, as if that massive snake from his dream might slither out from somewhere.
Tan Ming nodded dazedly, wondering if he was dreaming. Tonight was full of things he couldn’t even dream of.
He sat back down at the computer. Bai Ying didn’t sleep either, keeping his eyes open to watch Tan Ming work. Tan Ming put on a pair of blue-light-blocking glasses—he wasn’t nearsighted, and this was the first time Bai Ying had seen him wear them. He looked very refined, like a scholar.
…No, not like one—Tan Ming truly was a man of vast knowledge.
Bai Ying saw a thick stack of books piled on the desk. Under the desk lamp, Tan Ming pored over references with intense focus, jotting down lines of notes with his pen. The nib glided across the paper with a pleasant rustling sound. The script’s main text appeared as neat characters on the computer screen; Tan Ming typed swiftly, the keyboard producing smooth, rounded clacks like pearls rolling or a melody.
Tan Ming had thought he couldn’t focus on creating with Bai Ying beside him.
But the reality was the opposite. He was distracted at first, but once he realized the person he liked was there just for him—their eyes only on him, intimate as if they had already formed a family—an unprecedented sense of solidity welled up in his heart.
A man used to solitude suddenly felt his soul completed by another.
Tan Ming became even more immersed than usual.
Bai Ying watched him the whole time without growing bored. The sound of turning pages, writing, and typing made it clear to him that someone else was in the room besides himself, which brought him comfort.
He burrowed deeper into the bedding, leaving only his eyes exposed.
Tan Ming’s home decor had a somewhat cold, hard edge, but the bed was very soft, the duvet like a cloud. The little snake lay inside feeling so comfortable he wanted to shift back to his original form, but remembering his good friend was afraid of snakes, Bai Ying firmly suppressed the urge.
Yes, good friend!
After Tan Ming kindly took him in when a nightmare left him too scared to sleep alone, Bai Ying upgraded him from good neighbor to good friend in his heart. Though Tan Ming’s fear of snakes meant he could never be his keeper, Bai Ying didn’t have to worry about some snake treating him as emergency rations showing up in Tan Ming’s home one day. They could be good friends for life!
After focusing intently on work for an hour and a half, the good friend saved the document and shut down the computer.
It took far less time than Tan Ming had expected; his efficiency that night was astonishing. Turning his head, he saw Bai Ying’s eyes close then struggle open, and Tan Ming was startled. He lowered his voice. “Why aren’t you asleep yet? Am I too noisy?”
Bai Ying shook his head slightly from under the covers.
Not noisy at all—it even had a hypnotic effect.
“I’m waiting for you,” Bai Ying said.
How were these blessings falling one after another from the sky?
“I…” Tan Ming gritted his teeth. The second half of his sentence was hard to say, but he pinched himself hard and forced it out. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
He knew Bai Ying had no interest in him yet, and his own thoughts weren’t pure. He shouldn’t take advantage when the other was oblivious.
Tan Ming desperately recalled every moral lesson from childhood to university.
Exhausted, Bai Ying’s voice grew a bit slurred, the ending soft and melting hearts: “The sofa’s too short. Let’s sleep together. Tomorrow when we wake up, we can go grocery shopping…”
Bai Ying saw no issue with sharing a bed and covers with Tan Ming. First, they were both guys. Second, different species.
Little did he know Tan Ming was frantically invoking Liu Xiahui: Summon Liu Xiahui, summon Liu Xiahui…
Bai Ying landed a fatal blow.
He reached out in the dim light and grasped Tan Ming’s pinky. “Let’s sleep. I’ve warmed up the bedding…”
The once-cold bedding had warmed; though a cold-blooded creature, his human form had a warm body like anyone else’s.
Tan Ming: “…”
Tan Ming struggled, but in the end, he couldn’t hold back.
He splashed cold water on his face, but it didn’t sober him. He lay down in the spot Bai Ying had specially made for him. The bed was actually quite large—plenty of room for two adults—but under the same covers, limbs inevitably brushed.
Tan Ming maintained the most proper sleeping posture, barely moving, but the pure-minded one rolled uninhibitedly to his side after falling asleep.
Tan Ming had never endured such torment in his life.
Bai Ying’s breathing was light, but as he drew closer, the soft rhythm became impossible to ignore. After a thunderclap exploded overhead, Bai Ying didn’t wake, but unconsciously reached out and hugged Tan Ming’s arm.
He clutched Tan Ming’s arm like a pillow, forehead pressed against it. He didn’t know why the pillow wasn’t as soft as before, but he nuzzled it gently and drifted back to secure sleep.
Tan Ming’s breathing quickened abruptly, a fire igniting in his chest.
“You’re really…” In the darkness, Tan Ming hissed through clenched teeth.
How could someone be so defenseless?
The one hugging his arm was as soft and innocent as the demon in a strange tale—only deadlier because this one truly knew nothing, unaware he had stirred the foulest desires in a person’s heart.
He didn’t know the fire might burn him.
He would be ravaged by the beast stripped of its gentlemanly facade, cries crushed amid the rain, soft body melting into a puddle, drenched in fluids from who-knows-where.
Tan Ming imagined many dangerous things.
In self-abandonment, he thought since he’d been tempted this far, it was fine to just think about it, right?
This rainy night, someone barely held onto his gentlemanly bottom line.
