Night had fallen at Yu Xingzhou’s home.
Jing Chi looked around curiously. The layout was much like his own place, but it felt stark and empty, devoid of any personal warmth.
“Do you live alone?” he asked casually.
Yu Xingzhou gave a soft hum in response, though his eyes darted about, checking for anything out of place.
After scanning the room thoroughly, he found nothing amiss and relaxed a little.
Thank goodness he’d shoved all the miscellaneous clutter under the bed beforehand—Jing Chi would never spot it there.
So why had Jing Chi come over to Yu Xingzhou’s place? Officially, it was to ice the boy’s wound again, but that was just an excuse. In truth, Jing Chi was seizing every opportunity to spend more time with him.
“Come here,” Jing Chi said with a wink, extending his hand toward the boy.
Yu Xingzhou had no choice but to obey. He fetched an ice pack from the fridge and placed it in Jing Chi’s palm.
Jing Chi patted the sofa cushion beside him, inviting Yu Xingzhou to sit.
The boy hesitated for a moment before saying, “Maybe I should do it myself. I can handle it.”
Jing Chi glanced up, catching the way Yu Xingzhou’s eyes flitted about evasively. Propping his chin on one hand, he teased, “Are you shy or something?”
Yu Xingzhou hadn’t been blushing before, but those words brought a faint flush to his cheeks. He couldn’t meet Jing Chi’s gaze and stammered a quick denial. “N-No, I’m not.”
With the hand not holding the ice pack, Jing Chi gave Yu Xingzhou’s fingers a playful pinch and tugged him down onto the sofa beside him.
“If you’re not, then let’s get started.”
Mimicking what he’d done earlier that day in the infirmary, Jing Chi lifted the boy’s leg onto his lap and rolled up the pant leg.
He pressed the ice pack gently against the injury, his expression focused and intent.
Yu Xingzhou clutched at his shirt, unable to tear his eyes from Jing Chi’s profile. His heart pounded a little faster.
The infirmary had been full of people during the day, but now they were utterly alone together in the quiet space.
He wasn’t sure when it had started, but lately, being around Jing Chi stirred up this unfamiliar shyness in him. He couldn’t bring himself to look straight into those captivating eyes.
That vague, unnamed feeling had quietly taken root in his heart. With every moment they spent together, it sprouted and grew stronger.
By the time Yu Xingzhou snapped back to awareness, Jing Chi’s handsome face was mere inches away.
Jing Chi arched a brow. “What’re you thinking about?”
Unbeknownst to him, his own presence was gradually enveloping the boy, and the playful glint in his eyes left Yu Xingzhou a touch dazed.
Yu Xingzhou’s gaze drifted from Jing Chi’s eyes down to those pale, perfectly shaped lips—the lips that so often curved into a smile just for him.
In that instant, his mind went blank. Without thinking, he reached out and brushed his fingertip against them.
The gesture carried an undeniable hint of intimacy.
Jing Chi was caught off guard by the boy’s sudden boldness and promptly caught hold of his hand.
The chill from Jing Chi’s fingertips—still cold from the ice pack—jolted Yu Xingzhou back to his senses.
As the reality of his actions sank in, the boy’s face flushed crimson from his neck to his cheeks.
But then he noticed the surprise in Jing Chi’s eyes, and his color drained away just as quickly.
Only now did he grasp how presumptuous he’d been. Fear flickered in his eyes, and he began apologizing in a frantic rush. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
He was terrified that Jing Chi would see him as some kind of freak, a pervert—like those people had called him. A disgusting gay guy.
He dreaded the moment Jing Chi might look at him with that same disgust. The very thought sent panic surging through him, laced with a dull ache.
The Evil Spirit, silent for so long, suddenly sensed his power swelling. His first instinct wasn’t delight but to reassure his host. “He won’t. You said you trusted him, remember? He’s not like those others.”
But his words did little to soothe. Growing anxious, the Evil Spirit felt helpless to do more.
Jing Chi had been about to tease him further, but the boy’s face had changed in an instant—panic-stricken, lost, mumbling apologies without end. He realized Yu Xingzhou must have spiraled into dark thoughts.
Without a word, he drew the boy into his arms and gently rubbed his trembling back. “It’s all right,” he murmured softly. “I’m not upset. Don’t be afraid.”
The steady thump of a heartbeat filled Yu Xingzhou’s ears, and the warmth of Jing Chi’s embrace wrapped around him like a shield. In that secure hold, all his fears melted away.
For the boy who had once had nothing and no one, it felt like he’d finally found something—someone—to lean on.
Jing Chi gently patted the young man’s back, coaxing him like a child with endless patience and tenderness.
A trace of heartache flickered in his eyes for this fragile, sensitive boy.
Once Yu Xingzhou had recovered, he immediately felt a bit embarrassed. But he was so greedy for this embrace—and for this man—that he couldn’t help himself.
He deeply etched the warmth of that hug into his memory.
Reluctant though he was, reason eventually won out, and Yu Xingzhou withdrew from Jing Chi’s arms.
He steadied his emotions and flashed Jing Chi a shy smile, his eyes brimming with gratitude.
“Thank you, Jing Chi.”
Seeing Yu Xingzhou act so formally set Jing Chi on edge again. He ruffled the boy’s hair, feigning anger.
“What’re you thanking me for? How about letting me pinch those cheeks a few more times instead?”
To his surprise, the boy obediently leaned in the very next moment, offering up his cheeks. He blinked those clear eyes up at Jing Chi, looking utterly pliant.
Yu Xingzhou was being so good that Jing Chi almost couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he poked the boy’s forehead and sighed helplessly.
“I was just kidding. How are you this obedient?”
The boy replied with utmost seriousness. “Because it’s you who said it.”
Whatever Jing Chi said, Yu Xingzhou took it to heart.
Jing Chi paused, caught off guard by the sincerity shining in the boy’s eyes. Something occurred to him, and he asked offhandedly,
“What if you find out later that I’ve kept something from you? Would you get mad?”
Yu Xingzhou hesitated for a beat, then shook his head firmly.
Jing Chi smiled and let the subject drop.
It was getting late, so he left before nine.
The door clicked shut, leaving Yu Xingzhou alone in the room.
The Evil Spirit glowered at the scene. No amount of coaxing from him had helped, yet one hug from Jing Chi had fixed everything. He huffed, at a loss for words.
Then he remembered what Jing Chi had said earlier. “What if he really does lie to you?”
Yu Xingzhou paused mid-reach for his things, then curved his lips into a smile, utterly unconcerned.
“It’s fine. Doesn’t matter. As long as he doesn’t abandon me, nothing else counts.”
He seemed to be speaking to the Evil Spirit—or maybe just reassuring himself.
The Evil Spirit rolled his eyes and vanished.
The old Yu Xingzhou had never dared dream of more. But now, this was all he wanted.
~~~
A week slipped by.
At some point, Yu Xingzhou had stopped walking that dimly lit back alley alone at night.
Jing Chi was always with him now.
Under the faint glow of the single streetlamp, their shadows stretched side by side. The once-silent path hummed with the sound of the man beside him, filling Yu Xingzhou with a peace he’d never known.
For the first time, he felt truly content—deeply, completely satisfied.
Just then, Jing Chi came to an abrupt halt. Yu Xingzhou, trailing close behind, stopped too.
Noticing the boy’s puzzled look, Jing Chi pressed a finger to his lips and shushed him softly.
Then he murmured, “Do you hear anything?”
There was only the rustle of wind through the leaves and the sway of branches overhead.
Baffled, Yu Xingzhou shook his head.
In a flash, Jing Chi seized his shoulders, his gaze locked on the shuddering bushes ahead. His voice turned low and ominous.
“You think a vicious ghost might come jumping out of there?”
He’d only meant to give the boy a little scare, but Yu Xingzhou’s eyes suddenly went wide and distant.
Jing Chi inwardly cursed himself. Why’d he have to bring up ghosts? What if it sent the kid spiraling?
But then Yu Xingzhou’s brows knit tight, his face taut with tension. Trembling slightly, he pointed over Jing Chi’s shoulder.
“Over there—there’s a shadow.”
Now it was Jing Chi’s turn to freeze. Was there actually another ghost lurking nearby?
He whipped around hesitantly. Nothing.
When he turned back, Yu Xingzhou was grinning.
He’d been had.
“Student Yu, you’ve learned to trick me now, huh?” Jing Chi caught on quick, equal parts annoyed and delighted.
Yu Xingzhou arched a brow, mirroring Jing Chi’s usual smirk. His tone turned playful in a way it rarely did.
“Student Jing, I learned it from you. No double standards, got it?”
He even wagged his index finger for emphasis.
That impish look left Jing Chi momentarily unsure whether he was facing the Little Evil Spirit or the real deal.
But maybe it didn’t matter. Whoever it was, they were both Yu Xingzhou.
Amusement danced in Jing Chi’s eyes, though he played at outrage.
“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that. Time for a lesson.”
Spotting trouble, Yu Xingzhou bolted.
Jing Chi chased after him right away and grabbed his arm.
Seeing that he couldn’t outrun him, Yu Xingzhou surrendered immediately.
The boy lowered his eyes, his long lashes casting a faint shadow across his pale cheeks. In a pitiful whisper, he said, “Sorry, I was wrong.”
Jing Chi let out a soft huff, though amusement flickered in his eyes. He pinched the boy’s soft cheek, then lightly flicked his forehead with his index finger.
Then, with great magnanimity, he declared, “Fine, I forgive you.”
Yu Xingzhou touched his cheek, then brushed his fingertips over the spot on his forehead where Jing Chi had flicked it. It felt warm and a little itchy, but not painful at all. He let out an uncomfortable hum.
Jing Chi watched Yu Xingzhou closely. As the boy grew more lively by the day, he knew the moment he could take him away was drawing ever nearer.