Xi Zhui gazed at the hazy look in the other man’s eyes, blurred by alcohol, and his brows shot up in surprise. “What did you say?”
Wen Chaosheng had no idea how bold he was being. Egged on by the reckless surge of booze, he raised his voice and repeated himself. “I said, do you want to take a shower with me?”
Xi Zhui could only smile wryly. He now had a clear read on Wen Chaosheng’s condition: the man was thoroughly sloshed.
If there was even a shred of reason left in him, this turtle would never have extended such an invitation.
Unsure how much Wen Chaosheng would remember come morning, Xi Zhui refused with firm tact. “No.”
“Mm.”
Wen Chaosheng released his grip on Xi Zhui’s shirt hem, his mouth turning down in a pout that spoke volumes of disappointment. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not happening. You’re just drunk and acting up.”
Xi Zhui set his black-framed glasses down on the bathroom counter, then deftly cupped Wen Chaosheng’s jaw. It was both a reminder and a command.
“Wen Chaosheng, either you go into the shower and rinse off like a good boy, or you wash up quick and hit the bed right now. Got it?”
“No means no. Stingy.”
For once, Wen Chaosheng threw a rare little tantrum. He twisted his head away from Xi Zhui’s grasp and, with his mop of soft curls, shuffled into the shower stall. He seemed utterly sunk in the gloom of rejection.
“…”
Xi Zhui was momentarily stunned by the cuteness of his muttering and retreating figure. With a chuckle, he called after him. “Guess I won’t lock the bathroom door then. I’ll wait for you out here?”
Wen Chaosheng ignored him, slamming the shower door shut with surprising force before starting to strip on his own.
The shower partition was made of frosted glass. From outside, it offered only a vague silhouette of Wen Chaosheng’s form—but even that was enough for Xi Zhui to make out the pale gleam of his skin, almost dazzling in its fairness.
Soon, the sound of running water filled the air.
Xi Zhui lingered a moment too long, his eyes tracing the subtle shifts of that indistinct shape behind the glass. His thoughts began to wander unchecked.
For some reason, an image flashed through his mind: the other man flushed all over from the heat, water droplets glistening on his skin.
“…”
But he quickly caught himself, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. He turned sharply and left the bathroom.
The door clicked half-shut behind him, sealing away any hint of intimacy.
Out of the corner of his eye, Xi Zhui spotted the mineral water on the bar counter. Suddenly parched, he twisted off the cap and chugged two big gulps.
The cool liquid slid down his throat, barely tamping down the ridiculous heat stirring inside him.
Leaning against the edge of the tea bar, Xi Zhui tried to steady his inexplicably quickened breathing. But the steady patter of the shower continued from the bathroom, like a relentless drumbeat thrumming against his nerves.
The more he tried to calm himself, the more memories from after their return flooded his mind—
At the relatives’ engagement party, Wen Chaosheng’s tentative glances peeking his way.
Outside the banquet hall lounge, that courageously uttered “long time no see.”
In the hotel suite, the sight of him sitting primly with his backpack, the way half a beer had knocked him out cold, and the earnest script he’d offered up with such hope, along with the audition invite.
Then their unexpected roommate situation in Gannan: the first night, when Xi Zhui had suffered altitude sickness, the careful pressure of Wen Chaosheng’s fingertips massaging his temples, the faint, subtle scent clinging to his body.
And after that, their script arguments, reconciliations, rehearsals, filming—even the wild horseback rides off-set.
These scenes replayed in Xi Zhui’s head, vivid down to the smallest detail.
“…”
Friends?
Was that really all there was to it—could “friends” sum up their dynamic?
Xi Zhui’s grip tightened on the water bottle, a shadow of self-doubt stirring in the depths of his eyes.
He’d known Shen Zhaoye and Xia Fengyi far longer, nearly twenty years of “friendship” among the three of them.
Yet he’d never harbored these improper, tangled thoughts about them. So why did everything taste different with Wen Chaosheng?
This wasn’t right. Not right at all.
Xi Zhui wasn’t the type to kid himself or dress up his oversteps with lame excuses. In a flash, he realized what those recent pangs of jealousy and desire truly meant.
He’d fallen for Wen Chaosheng.
The feeling had crossed the line of mere friendship—grown so fierce that by the time he recognized it, there was no turning back.
—Clang!
A dull thud echoed suddenly from the bathroom.
Instinctive worry overrode rational thought. Xi Zhui snapped to attention and shoved open the half-closed door in record time. “Wen Chaosheng? What hap—”
His urgent question died in his throat.
Amid the steamy haze of the bathroom, Wen Chaosheng had stepped out of the shower stall, barefoot on the slick tile floor.
His bath towel was only half-wrapped, barely covering him, exposing swaths of damp skin that glowed with a faint pink flush from the hot water.
Startled by the abrupt bang of the door, a hint of panic joined the already dazed glaze in his eyes.
Xi Zhui hadn’t expected this scene upon opening the door. The heat he’d just quelled roared back to life. “What happened to you? Did you slip? Bump into something?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng blinked, at a loss for words. Meanwhile, the bathrobe draped over him began to slip.
Knowing the man was still drunk and unlikely to explain coherently, Xi Zhui didn’t press. Instead, he darted to the closet for a clean bathrobe of his own.
He hurried back into the bathroom and bundled Wen Chaosheng up tight, yanking the sash secure at his waist.
In mere seconds, every glimpse of bare skin was hidden away.
“Come on out.”
“…”
Fresh from the hot shower, with the alcohol still swimming dizzily through him, Wen Chaosheng could scarcely tell up from down.
Xi Zhui took one of his hands and grabbed the hairdryer with the other. “Sit right here. Close your eyes. I’ll dry your hair before you crash.”
Wen Chaosheng let himself be maneuvered like a lump of cotton, settling obediently on the bed’s edge and shutting his eyes as instructed.
Warm air whooshed from the dryer.
Xi Zhui had zero experience babysitting drunks, so he took extra care to be gentle. Recalling how Wen Chaosheng had massaged his scalp before, he let his fingertips glide through the fine, soft curls, rubbing slow circles into the scalp.
A pleasant tingle spread outward.
Eyes closed though they were, Wen Chaosheng let out a couple of contented hums, just like a cat getting its fur stroked the right way.
Seeing his reaction, Xi Zhui felt an odd sense of fulfillment bloom—no trace of annoyance at playing caretaker.
The hair dried in no time, though thoroughly tousled from the kneading.
Xi Zhui pulled back the covers on one side. “All done. Bedtime.”
But Wen Chaosheng didn’t dive under right away. Instead, he instinctively caught hold of the wrist in front of him. “What about you? Where are you going?”
“…”
The warmth seeping from that palm gave Xi Zhui pause.
Staring at the drunkenly bleary-eyed Wen Chaosheng, he felt a fleeting pang of regret—for turning down the shared shower earlier.
Xi Zhui didn’t pull his hand free. Instead, he leaned down and murmured, “I’m gonna take a quick shower and clean up. I’ll be right back. If you’re tired, go ahead and sleep, okay?”
Reassured, Wen Chaosheng gave his wrist a soft shake. “Alright, but hurry up.”
“…”
So this was what he was like with liquid courage—bold enough to whine without restraint?
Xi Zhui’s breath hitched, his already jumbled thoughts scattering further. He turned away sharply and strode to the bathroom in two long steps.
Slam!
The bathroom door shut with force!
Emboldened by the buzz, Wen Chaosheng was still wide awake. Deeming the room safe, he stayed put on the bed’s edge, staring fixedly at the bathroom door.
The shower kicked on, the fierce rush of water audible even through the wall.
Wen Chaosheng felt like he’d been waiting forever, his eyelids growing heavier by the second, when finally a soft click sounded at the door.
Xi Zhui emerged, a towel knotted loosely at his waist, another dry one in hand as he toweled off his hair.
The lean muscles usually hidden under clothes were now on display—nothing over-the-top, but solidly built, carrying the sleek appeal of a man in his prime.
Wen Chaosheng stared openly, without a trace of his usual shyness. “Ah…”
“…”
Xi Zhui hadn’t expected him to still be awake. He paused mid-towel, mildly surprised.
He didn’t mind the appreciative gaze lingering on his abs. After that cold shower, he’d reclaimed his poise.
Xi Zhui stepped closer. “Director Wen, what are you looking at? Can a director ogle the male lead’s abs so shamelessly?”
The title “Director” snapped a sliver of sobriety back into Wen Chaosheng. His fixed stare darted away guiltily. “I’m waiting for you.”
Xi Zhui snatched a pajama set from the sofa nearby. “No more looking. That’ll cost you.”
“Oh.”
Wen Chaosheng had already gotten an eyeful and was plenty satisfied. No charge.
He burrowed swiftly under the covers, cocooning himself in a fluffy bundle.
Xi Zhui finished freshening up, slipped into his pajamas, and slid into bed. He rolled onto his side—and came face-to-face with the still-awake Wen Chaosheng.
Their eyes met. Xi Zhui was utterly helpless against him. “Not sleepy yet? Sober now? Or still drunk?”
A couple of beers should metabolize quickly.
Unsure of his own state, Wen Chaosheng skipped the question. Whatever popped into his head came out. “When do I get my wrap-up gift?”
“…”
He seemed somewhat clear-headed, though not entirely.
Xi Zhui gazed at the soft, warm face so close at hand. The usual sharpness in his brows softened unwittingly into something tender. “We’ve got five or six more scenes to shoot back in the Imperial Capital. I’ll give it to you once we’re done, alright?”
Wen Chaosheng grudgingly accepted. “Fine. But don’t forget.”
“I won’t.”
Perhaps because he had finally clarified his own feelings, Xi Zhui found himself harboring a bit more exploratory intent. He reached out proactively to caress the back of Wen Chaosheng’s neck, rubbing it gently—not too light, not too heavy—with the pad of his thumb.
“Wen Chaosheng, if you’re not sleepy, how about we chat? Is there anything else you want to ask me?”
“…”
“As long as you dare to ask tonight, I’ll tell you everything. Whatever you want to do, I can go along with you.”
It was an enticing offer.
Like a pebble tossed into the lake of his heart, it sent ripples spreading layer upon layer.
Wen Chaosheng had been starting to feel drowsy, but now he forced his eyelids open with effort. “You… don’t call me by my full name right now.”
“Then what should I call you?” Xi Zhui prompted him gently, his voice coaxing. “Chaosheng? Or Brother?”
Wen Chaosheng nuzzled against the soft bedding. “I’m older than you, so… you should call me Brother.”
Xi Zhui chuckled softly. “Alright, Brother.”
Hearing the address he’d wished for, Wen Chaosheng showed none of his usual shyness. Instead, he let out two silly, contented laughs.
Xi Zhui continued to knead the back of his neck at an unhurried pace, silently steering the conversation. “Nothing else you want to ask? In that case, let me ask you something.”
The sensation at the nape of his neck was tingly and pleasant, making Wen Chaosheng want to squint his eyes in bliss. “Mm?”
Xi Zhui asked, fully aware of the answer. “Brother, have you ever been in a relationship?”
Wen Chaosheng shook his head vigorously, like a rattle.
Xi Zhui’s lips curved into a smile as he prodded. “Then do you know if I’ve ever been in one?”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng met that blatant hint and blanked out for several seconds.
Drawing on the sliver of courage from his lingering buzz, he stammered back, “Xi Zhui, do you… do you have a girl you like? Have you… been in a relationship?”
