Chapter 3 Part 2

“When night asks day

Can it forgive the gray world?

Don’t swap day and night

One frozen teardrop is already so salty”

The two on stage—one dark, one light—even matched in outfits.

In the first half, they were both a little reserved and tense. Midway through, Huo Junlin naturally extended his right hand toward Zhu Ran. It was so obvious that cheers erupted from below.

Zhu Ran gripped the mic, breathing lightly.

Should he hold hands? Let their bodies touch? Could Huo Junlin give him what he wanted and resolve his predicament?

As the interlude neared its end, the crowd’s chants grew urgent: “Hold hands! Hold hands! Say yes!”

In the dim night, Zhu Ran hesitated. Across from him, Huo Junlin’s gaze burned bright and resolute, his right hand steadily outstretched.

Zhu Ran took a deep breath and placed his left hand into the man’s palm. Huo Junlin gripped it immediately and didn’t let go for the rest of the song.

Compared to Huo Junlin’s visible excitement, Zhu Ran felt only profound disappointment.

Zhu Ran’s family had raised him strictly—he’d never had this kind of contact with anyone before. Now, he’d finally mustered the courage for this crucial step, nervous, expectant, even harboring unrealistic hopes. But when he actually touched a man’s body—a living, breathing one—there was no spark inside him.

No, this wasn’t the contact he’d hoped for.

Zhu Ran felt deeply dejected. He didn’t know if it was this person specifically or if all contact felt this way.

The accompaniment swelled, and Zhu Ran sang the next lines.

“Bruises under the skin seep blood

Despair in the cells cries injustice

Whipped by fifty-three days of loneliness”

He wanted to pull away, but Huo Junlin held firm. The guy’s palm was large and hot, slick with an uncomfortable dampness like some slimy creature.

Zhu Ran endured until the end. The moment the song finished, he shook off Huo Junlin’s hand. But the other didn’t notice his resistance and excitedly pulled him into a hug.

The cheers from below grew louder.

Zhu Ran froze in place, his body going rigid.

Huo Junlin hugged him.

A full, gapless embrace.

Their bodies pressed tight; he could smell the guy’s aggressive scent and feel the much higher body heat. For some reason, Huo Junlin trembled slightly. His grip tightened, nearly crushing Zhu Ran into his chest.

Zhu Ran didn’t know why Huo Junlin was so worked up. He only felt his stomach churning, the sour drink rising, making him nauseous.

His face paled as he pushed the guy away, forcing a calm tone: “Alright, let’s go down.”

Huo Junlin finally released him and reached for his hand again, but Zhu Ran said he needed the restroom and slipped away.

He ran outside in one breath, leaving the bar’s music far behind. Only when he was alone did he stop and gasp for air.

No, he couldn’t get used to it at all—he still hated being touched.

Zhu Ran scratched frantically at his skin, but it didn’t dispel the discomfort. He went to the nearby pool and rinsed himself under the water, soaking head to toe.

His wet curls draped like seaweed over his forehead, his white shirt turned semitransparent, his leather shoes heavy and sodden… Zhu Ran barely noticed. He stood under the faucet for ten minutes until his body chilled in the cold water and his mood finally calmed.

The night breeze blew, and his soaked clothes clung to him—he finally registered the cold. Zhu Ran stripped off the wet garments, leaving only his underwear, and grabbed a beach towel nearby.

The nighttime pool was deserted and chilly. Zhu Ran’s bare feet thudded on the wooden railing, echoing with unknown bird calls from the trees and the waves, somehow eerie.

He wrapped the towel around his chilled body. When he turned back, his face drained of color—he froze at the sight of the man by the pool.

Huo Boyan stood under the streetlamp watching him, his gaze concerned and gentle, a faint smile on his lips. But Zhu Ran felt a chill down his spine.

When had Huo Boyan come over? How long had he watched? Had he seen everything?

Zhu Ran was utterly exhausted. He didn’t want to talk or explain. He circled wide to retrieve his clothes from under the showerhead.

He moved quickly, but when he looked up, Huo Boyan was right in front of him, concern perfectly measured: “Are you okay?”

“Thanks, I’m fine,” Zhu Ran said rapidly, sidestepping toward his room.

“Not going back to the bar? Junlin’s still waiting for you.” Huo Boyan’s voice came from behind.

Zhu Ran halted, feeling like he’d become some paint-skinned monster. Something would burst from his flesh, shredding his facade of normalcy and turning him into a beast desperate to lash out.

His pale fingers clutched the towel. Zhu Ran drew a deep breath and said stiffly but politely, “I’m not feeling well. I need to head back first.”

“Why aren’t you feeling well?” Huo Boyan pressed.

Anger surged in Zhu Ran—he even wanted to lash out—but he knew that was wrong. Luckily, his back was to the man, hiding his true emotions. He breathed deeply to stay in control.

“Because you hate being touched?” Huo Boyan gave him no escape, smiling as he continued, “If you hate it, why keep spending time with Huo Junlin?”

Zhu Ran whipped around, his upturned peach-blossom eyes flashing undisguised hostility: “Mr. Huo, I believe this has nothing to do with you.”