Chapter 66: No More

Xie Qi’s reaction to Wen Jiang saying he didn’t need help anymore was huge.

Rewind time to the night he sent Wen Jiang home. Amid a tight hug full of brotherly affection, Xie Qi experienced a brief loss of control over his supernatural ability, but it quickly subsided. Over the next two days, he visibly wilted at times, his mood clearly sour.

Ruling out frustration over failing to control his ability again, logic dictated that something deeply upsetting had happened to him—something he hated thinking about, something that made him miserable the moment it crossed his mind.

People deal with bad moods in different ways, and Xie Qi clearly wasn’t the type to vent to others. When he didn’t want to talk about his feelings, not even torture could pry his mouth open. Wen Jiang knew his temperament well; if Xie Qi didn’t bring it up himself, Wen Jiang wouldn’t ask.

In response, Xie Qi became a bit more clingy.

By then, Wen Jiang had started working on his practical assignment with Lin Xun and drafted an initial questionnaire for him. On top of that, he had daily classes, extracurricular training, mission reports, and more. These past couple of days, he’d stayed late after school, so Xie Qi simply showed up at the classroom where Wen Jiang was working. Without a word, he pulled out the chair in front of Wen Jiang’s desk, spun around, and sprawled across Wen Jiang’s table.

As Wen Jiang scribbled furiously on paper, he said, “Shift a bit to the left.”

Xie Qi silently scooted over.

Wen Jiang finished a page, glanced at Xie Qi’s fluffy head, and placed an eraser on top of it.

Xie Qi stayed perfectly still.

Wen Jiang finished the second page. The eraser was still there, so he stacked a smaller one on top—standing it upright this time.

Xie Qi stayed perfectly still.

Wen Jiang tried a more challenging build, balancing a pen horizontally atop the second eraser. The pen wobbled twice before an invisible puff of air steadied it, holding it in a precarious equilibrium.

Wen Jiang’s affection for Xie Qi +7.

No one knew what kind of amusement Wen Jiang got from this. He buried himself in writing again for a bit, then looked up to see the erasers and pen still perfectly balanced on Xie Qi’s head. Satisfied, he removed them and ruffled Xie Qi’s hair.

The current situation wasn’t the “Lord Xie suddenly forcing you to learn mind-reading” kind of anger. Wen Jiang had no issue with Xie Qi’s presence. He kept doing his work, and Xie Qi wasn’t noisy or disruptive—easy to “handle.” After a quick busy spell, Wen Jiang would give him a couple of rubs, and Xie Qi’s mood would visibly improve.

The timing of Xie Qi’s odd behavior started right after they parted ways in the car that night. Piecing it together logically: when people feel down, they want to avoid the source of pain and seek comfort in familiar places. Combining those points, Xie Qi’s distress probably had nothing to do with him… right?

Was it that seeing him made Xie Qi miserable on one hand, but seeing him also brought comfort on the other? What kind of contradictory mess was that?

If it wasn’t something Wen Jiang had unconsciously done to devastate him, then Xie Qi must have run into some unspoken trouble later—or maybe it was all mood swings from his unstable ability.

Unstable ability… That reminded him of their “mutual help” arrangement. Wen Jiang finished his work, pushed back his chair, and stood. He needed to submit materials to the teacher. Before leaving, he told Xie Qi, “Xie Qi, my side effect should be over soon.”

“If you think it helped, I’ll keep helping you afterward.” Wen Jiang said considerately, “You don’t need to help me anymore.”

What selfless, hardworking devotion—who wouldn’t call this guy a true friend?

Xie Qi stayed sprawled on the desk without a word.

Wen Jiang figured he was pondering the social niceties or too down to respond. But a few seconds later, Xie Qi slowly lifted his head, his face pale.

He stared straight at Wen Jiang, his expression utterly bewildered, as if he hadn’t processed the words. With a dazed stutter, he asked, “…What?”

…He didn’t look moved.

Before Wen Jiang could respond, Xie Qi’s lips moved again. “Did I do that badly?”

His brain finally snapped out of the blankness, replaced by total chaos. Xie Qi stared blankly at Wen Jiang, realizing only seconds later that he was about to leave. His pupils contracted sharply.

“Are you feeling bad? Or did I push you too hard?”

Wen Jiang sensed something was off just as his chair scraped harshly against the floor. Xie Qi shot to his feet and grabbed his wrist, his voice frantic, speeding up. “I can change! I don’t have to do it if you don’t want!”

But that logic was backward—the one who needed help from the start wasn’t him. Wen Jiang glanced down at Xie Qi’s hand and reminded him, “It’s not about good or bad. I just don’t need it anymore, so no need to trouble yourself.”

“I don’t need it either!”

Xie Qi’s voice suddenly spiked, like an emotional dam finally breaching.

The last straw bent his spine. He lost the facade he’d barely maintained, but the words stuck in his throat, blocked by something, repeating desperately. “Trouble? You think it’s trouble? You’re stopping? Just me? What the hell is that?”

“That wouldn’t mean anything.” The wind rustled papers wildly as Xie Qi gripped Wen Jiang’s hand tighter. “That wouldn’t mean anything! Wen Jiang, you can’t—you can’t—don’t you feel even a little…!”

His words cut off abruptly. Staring at Wen Jiang’s calm face, he fell into a suffocating silence.

How strange. Xie Qi had been the one pushing for mutual help at first. Now, shifting from two-way to one-way—with him as the sole beneficiary—Xie Qi was the one furious and breaking down.

Xie Qi’s face grew paler. His grip on Wen Jiang didn’t hurt, but his other hand clenched the desk edge until his fingertips blanched, as if he’d snap it any second.

The air currents turned chaotic, building invisible pressure in the room. The closed windows rattled. Before things escalated, Wen Jiang reached up and cupped Xie Qi’s face.

Cool fingertips brushed his cheeks—gentle yet firm. Xie Qi jolted, and a nearby book clattered to the floor.

Good thing it was after school; the classroom was empty, or there’d be a mess to handle. Wen Jiang met Xie Qi’s eyes, seeing the conflicted torment, pain, and longing there. Softly, he said, “Xie Qi.”

Like rehearsing a line, he altered his tone slightly from the usual when saying the name, maintaining the distinction between everyday address and this special “command” mode.

He’d done it the first time, and after a few repetitions, it conditioned Xie Qi to respond with instinctive compliance and calm at that specific tone.

“Relax. Breathe. Good—again.”

It worked well. The wind tousled their hair, but Wen Jiang’s steady voice cut through the swirling air undeterred. He guided Xie Qi back to normal breathing rhythm, paused once the impulse faded, then continued, “Xie Qi, I can’t understand if you put it like that.”

Digging into his deepest emotions wouldn’t be quick or simple now—might even backfire. Wen Jiang figured he wasn’t clueless about Xie Qi’s resistance, so he asked directly, “Do you want me to feel good?”

He said it calmly. Despite the erotic implication, it carried no flirtation—like perfectly meshed gears in precise, rational motion, or a scalpel slicing skin to coldly examine what lay beneath.

But that’s what made it thrillingly taboo from Wen Jiang’s lips, like a snow-capped peak revealing a hidden side no one else saw. Normally, the contrast would make Xie Qi’s head spin and spine tingle. Now, it just soured his throat.

His fingers trembled. For a few seconds, dark impulses surged in his mind, peaking then wilting under Wen Jiang’s gaze. Finally, Xie Qi lifted his hand to grip Wen Jiang’s wrist and forced out, “Yes.”

“I’m not treating you like…” The rest dissolved. Xie Qi could never say anything demeaning about Wen Jiang, especially not in this emotional storm. He opened his mouth, fell silent for seconds, then said, “You stop, I stop. I don’t need it.”

…That sounded kinda nice.

Wen Jiang could feel the care and respect in his words. He blinked lightly.

“Yeah, I know. I didn’t think that about myself either.” Respect between people was tangible; he wasn’t just a tool for Xie Qi’s relief. Wen Jiang pressed, “How do you want to do it?”

How I want? What I want—

“Shh.” A voice whispered in his heart. “Don’t say it.”

Say it, and it’s all gone.

Xie Qi’s chest heaved dramatically. He opened his mouth repeatedly, trembling faintly. For an instant, Wen Jiang felt like he was cornered on a cliff’s edge, desperate.

“…Let me hold you.”

Xie Qi finally spoke, unsure himself what he meant—maybe just grasping for rational excuses. “Like in the car before, wasn’t that fine?”

“No more.” His voice was dry, almost pleading. “Just holding.”