Wen Chaosheng’s live stream caused a massive uproar online, effectively washing away the notorious reputation he’d earned over the past couple of days.
He paid no further attention to the brewing public opinion, leaving all the follow-up matters in the hands of Whale Shadow’s PR team.
Night had crept into the hospital room by the time another round of IV infusion wrapped up.
Wen Chaosheng’s fever had broken and stabilized. With the medical staff’s permission, he took a quick hot shower.
Xi Zhui wasted no time scooping his lover back onto the bed and bundling him up tight in the blanket. “Don’t catch a chill.”
Wen Chaosheng felt a touch embarrassed. “Xi Zhui, I’m really fine now. You don’t have to stay so on edge around me.”
“You just shook off that fever. Better safe than sorry.”
Xi Zhui pulled a pair of clean sleep socks from the luggage bag and perched at the foot of the bed. “Slip these on before you crash.”
Wen Chaosheng wanted to insist he wasn’t that frail, but the firm look in the other’s eyes made him swallow his words. “Oh… I can do it myself.”
“Sit tight. Don’t fidget.”
Xi Zhui hushed him gently, one hand clamping precisely around Wen Chaosheng’s ankle while the other eased the sock on.
His palm radiated an unusual warmth that enveloped the ankle completely. The faint calluses on his fingertips grazed the top of Wen Chaosheng’s foot with every subtle motion, sending an itchy tingle straight to his heart.
“…”
Wen Chaosheng jerked back reflexively, and the half-on sock slipped right off.
Xi Zhui’s grip tightened just enough to hold him in place. “What is it?”
Wen Chaosheng mumbled, “It tickles.”
It was bizarre—he never felt this maddening itch when he put socks on himself.
Xi Zhui spotted the clue in the flush creeping across Wen Chaosheng’s cheeks. This time, he dragged his fingertips deliberately from the instep to the sole, giving it a couple of teasing scratches.
Wen Chaosheng squirmed harder. “Xi Zhui, you…”
“Okay, okay, no more fooling around. Hold still.”
Xi Zhui’s lips curved in smug satisfaction. “Never pegged your feet for such a weak spot.”
Wen Chaosheng grumbled, “No one else touches them but you.”
Xi Zhui chuckled, a covert surge of possessiveness thoroughly sated by the remark.
His hands behaved after that, swiftly finishing the job of socking Wen Chaosheng’s feet. “All set. Get some rest.”
Wen Chaosheng’s lungs showed no sign of infection, but his body remained frail, demanding heaps of sleep to reclaim the energy squandered in recent days.
Believing Xi Zhui meant to leave, Wen Chaosheng asked, “What about you?”
Xi Zhui caught the flicker of anxiety in his eyes and shifted closer to the headboard. “I’m staying right here. Sleep easy knowing that.”
Wen Chaosheng had already clocked the shadows under his eyes. “You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?”
Xi Zhui didn’t deny it.
Watching his lover lie unconscious all night, then uncovering so many buried truths? Sleep hadn’t stood a chance.
“You need rest too.”
Concern laced Wen Chaosheng’s voice as he proposed, “Why don’t you sleep with me?”
Xi Zhui turned him down kindly. “It’s a single bed—two of us would be cramped. I don’t want to toss your sleep.”
The room came equipped with a foldable cot for attendants, but he couldn’t be bothered to set it up.
Truth be told, closing his eyes these days conjured nothing but the sight of Wen Chaosheng vanishing beneath the waves, leaving him too restless to find peace until he could keep vigilant watch.
“…”
Rejected though he was, Wen Chaosheng didn’t yield.
He fixed the man before him with a steady gaze, venturing a rare, forthright plea. “I want you sleeping with me. Is that no good?”
Xi Zhui blinked, taken aback for a beat, but he seized the moment of his lover’s uncharacteristic boldness. “Of course it’s good. Anything you want.”
He leaned in for an affectionate forehead bump before pulling away. “You get settled. I’ll hop in the shower and be right back to join you. Quick as I can.”
Wen Chaosheng nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait.”
Xiao Chao had swung by the hospital that evening, dropping off a haul of fresh clothes and toiletries.
Not wanting to keep Wen Chaosheng waiting, Xi Zhui showered and threw on a clean T-shirt at top speed before sliding into bed beside him.
The room’s main lights clicked off, leaving just the soft row of sleep lamps glowing above the headboard.
With Wen Chaosheng in his arms, Xi Zhui murmured, “You worn out?”
Forcing his still-recovering body through that PR live stream—fielding endless skepticism for a solid half hour, methodically unpacking every detail—had drained him, no question.
Wen Chaosheng did feel weary, but sleep held no appeal just yet.
After years mired in boundless darkness and agony, yanked abruptly into light and joy, he craved to cling to wakefulness, savoring these precious moments of happiness one by one.
He turned the question back on Xi Zhui. “Are you beat?”
“Not really,” Xi Zhui said. “Shower perked me right up. Pulling all-nighters on set’s second nature by now. This beats filming any day.”
He read the intent behind the query and suggested, “Don’t feel like sleeping? We could chat.”
Wen Chaosheng lit up. “Sure.”
After a moment’s thought, Xi Zhui broached the subject. “Last night, I went through your phone. Checked your chat logs with Chang Ming.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Wen Chaosheng had anticipated as much and felt no violation.
Those records were earmarked as clarification ammo from the start.
Xi Zhui pressed on with his confession. “I also peeked at your encrypted memo and private photo album.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng froze, a wave of unease washing over him. “You… you saw it all?”
“Sorry. Should’ve asked first before prying.” Xi Zhui owned up, unrepentant. “That said, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
That memo had unveiled Wen Chaosheng’s painful history and the love he’d buried deep.
“It’s fine,” Wen Chaosheng murmured.
A lifelong bottler-upper, he’d never been one for airing his heart.
Handing over those inexpressible affections this way? No harm in that.
Struck by the memo’s tales of bitter withdrawal, Xi Zhui laid his cards on the table. “Chaosheng, I never intended to pass on your movie. Pure bad luck and crossed wires.”
“I was buried in principal photography on set, phone off-limits. My agent and team fielded all the offers.”
“Wrap day was when I heard you’d come back to the country—and that Jin Zhao bankrolled your new film.”
“So I hit him up, set a dinner, snagged a ticket a day early, and flew straight to Haishi City.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng blinked in surprise.
He’d assumed Jian Jinzhao orchestrated the meet because Xi Zhui suited the part, and that courtesy to him was the draw.
Xi Zhui went on. “Pictured a million ways our reunion might play out. Your demand? Total curveball—nearly gave me whiplash.”
Wen Chaosheng recalled his frantic all-in that night and flushed crimson. “I… I missed you that much.”
“Mm.”
Xi Zhui rubbed his back, fully getting it now.
In hindsight, it all clicked as the culmination of years of bottled longing.
Guilt threaded Xi Zhui’s voice. “Saying I never wanted to see your face? Not disgust. I just dreaded losing it and aching over you too much.”
“Sorry.”
No excuses for his stiff-necked bluster; he’d messed up. “That night, nursing my grudge, I lashed out and hurt you. Regret it something fierce.”
The image of Wen Chaosheng sobbing that first night back together, the ordeals endured just to return—it twisted his heart like a blade.
“Once you conked out, I pulled an all-nighter watching over you.”
“Next morning had a magazine gig I couldn’t ditch. Figured you’d be up by then, so I left notes and bolted.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng drew a blank; no recollection of stirring early.
Xi Zhui read the blank stare and pegged it—he’d blacked out that morning too.
“Rushed back post-shoot to find the breakfast untouched, clothes discarded, bed made up shipshape. Thought you’d ghosted me clean, washed your hands of me.”
Wen Chaosheng finally absorbed his lover’s bitterness from that day. “No… I thought you didn’t want to see me.”
The words stuck in his throat unspoken.
As Xi Zhui had pieced together his struggles late, so too did Wen Chaosheng grasp Xi Zhui’s six-year vigil.
They’d been mismatched gears grinding painfully until at last meshing true.
Stroking Wen Chaosheng’s back, Xi Zhui came fully clean. “Added you back on WeChat and cracked open my Moments privacy—just for your eyes. Posted the fitting photo; no like from you.”
“Assumed indifference. Too proud to chase, so I dropped another. Got roasted by Feng Yi, Zhao Ye, and the crew.”
By the end, Xi Zhui sounded downright pouty.
Wen Chaosheng, now clued in, couldn’t stifle a grin.
“Saw every one,” he explained softly. “Feared a like might irk you, so…”
“So screenshots,” Xi Zhui finished. “Sneaky-saved to the encrypted album.”
Wen Chaosheng admitted with a shy nod. “Mm. You saw the album.”
Xi Zhui laughed. “Sugar Cake day? More anger talking on my end. But watching you walk away? Instant regret.”
“Nobody looking, I scooped both boxes.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng’s eyes went wide; the scene beggared belief. “You… picked them up?”
Xi Zhui cleared his throat, image be damned. “Yep. Xiao Chao wheedled later, but no dice—I hoarded and polished them off solo.”
Wen Chaosheng said nothing, merely tucking his forehead against Xi Zhui’s shoulder to muffle his laughter.
After a long while, he finally asked, “Is that Sugar Cake place any good?”
Xi Zhui admitted, “It is. Next time we’re in Heng City, I’ll buy it for you.”
“Good.”
Xi Zhui recalled the notes in Wen Chaosheng’s memo as he offered some belated comfort and explanation.
“While you were avoiding me on set, I was actually miserable. In the end, I had no choice but to bring in Kuai Kuai as backup. The little guy was pretty sharp—he knew you were back and stuck to you right away.”
“I wanted you to eat properly, but I was afraid you’d feel awkward, so I used script discussions as an excuse.”
“You get bold with your demands when you’re drunk, but you forget everything once you sober up. That night in Gannan, it was clearly you who said, ‘We can only kiss if we like each other,’ before taking the initiative to kiss me and bite me.”
“…”
Wen Chaosheng was stunned by the revelation. “What? No way, that’s impossible.”
“How is it impossible?”
Seeing his dazed expression, Xi Zhui chuckled. “That night in Heng City, I deliberately teased you by saying ‘We can only kiss if we like each other’ just to hear you admit you still liked me.”
