Chapter 67: In the End, He Still Did It

Something felt off.

From the moment Xie Qi suggested hugs and Wen Jiang went along with it, right up until the day before their practical assignment, the number of private hugs between them skyrocketed.

At first, the hugs were short, happening in the car on the way home from school. Later, the location shifted to the more unrestricted Secret Base, and the duration stretched out dramatically.

Initially, when Xie Qi held him, Wen Jiang did nothing—just spaced out, did mental math, recalled movies he’d seen, or pondered his practical homework.

But soon enough, Wen Jiang demonstrated his exceptional adaptability. He decided not to waste time anymore. While being held, he naturally started scrolling on his phone, watching shows, typing chats, or checking Lin Xun’s investigation form progress.

It even helped perk him up a bit, since being held silently for too long made him drowsy.

Not out of boredom, quite the opposite—it was a pleasant drowsiness leaning toward comfort. He accepted the other’s temperature surprisingly well. The sensation of being held by Xie Qi felt a bit like a cat curling up in its cozy nest, lazily basking in the sun: warm rays, familiar scents all around, so comfy that he’d want to stretch and take a nap.

Rationally speaking, it stemmed from the sense of familiarity and security Xie Qi provided.

Xie Qi only occasionally hugged him tightly, almost burying himself entirely in Wen Jiang. Most of the time, he kept it to a level that didn’t disturb Wen Jiang’s work. They usually faced each other, with Wen Jiang half-turning to type, coldly issuing crucial orders to Lin Xun while being held: Refill it.

The day before the assignment, they hugged for a while in the Secret Base too. Wen Jiang was making final preparations for his homework. Staring at his phone from too far away strained his eyes, so he proactively pressed closer to Xie Qi, lifting his arm to loop it around Xie Qi’s neck and using his shoulder as a prop.

He checked Lin Xun’s entries item by item against other data he’d gathered.

The cool aura became more pronounced than ever, almost like an intimate return hug. Xie Qi’s body stiffened for a moment.

Wen Jiang was always hyper-focused during work and didn’t notice anything amiss at first. A while later, his hand paused. Poker-faced, he spoke up: “Xie Qi.”

Xie Qi went silent for a beat, his voice sounding a little hoarse as he asked in feigned obliviousness: “Huh?”

You think you can play it off? Wen Jiang said speechlessly, “Handle it.”

It was too obvious. He could feel it.

Dude, you were so gung-ho with all that “I don’t need it” and “I can do without,” making it sound like you’d be all ascetic afterward.

Xie Qi fell silent again, then grumbled unhappily: “No need.”

So that’s where your resolve went? Wen Jiang was stunned, but too much indulgence wasn’t good for the body, and holding back wasn’t healthy either. Earnestly, he suggested: “Still, you should handle it.”

Leaving it like that felt weird too.

“……” Xie Qi nuzzled Wen Jiang’s shoulder, peeking out with his eyes at the skin of Wen Jiang’s neck, and asked: “Can we still hug after?”

“Yeah.” Might as well see it through—he was used to working like this anyway. Wen Jiang said flatly, then suddenly had a realization.

Epiphany struck. He’d finally figured out why things had felt off. Suspiciously, he asked: “Can you handle it on your own?”

This wasn’t easy to stop once started. He still remembered the hotel incident vividly—when he’d told Xie Qi to do it himself, it took forever with zero results.

Xie Qi: ……

Xie Qi lifted his head, giving Wen Jiang an incredibly complicated look. Then he let go, hesitated in place for a few seconds, debated the location, and finally went to the next room over.

……Feels like hugging a really big dog.

Wen Jiang didn’t touch Xie Qi—not with hands, not even stepping. He just did his own thing, his breathing steady as ever. Only Xie Qi’s grew heavier beside him. His single arm around Wen Jiang tightened sporadically, sliding along his waist once or twice despite himself.

At first, Xie Qi was restrained, but he gradually let loose. He buried his face in Wen Jiang’s neck, and with tacit permission, kept going while inhaling the surrounding scent.

Wen Jiang’s scent was clean, with a hint of coolness. It had no form, yet it always reminded Xie Qi of frost-kissed ice flowers blooming fiercely, or wind blowing down from a sunlit snow mountain.

Objectively, as a healthy adult male, Wen Jiang’s build wasn’t delicate or slender. But the feel in his arms was oddly captivating—smooth lines under the shirt, taut waist muscles like stroking lush green bamboo.

Does Wen Jiang have dimples in his lower back?

Xie Qi instinctively pictured beneath the clothes. The throbbing ache and heat drove him to press even closer.

But for some reason, if not for this situation, Xie Qi thought he might just want to hold him and sleep.

The idea sparked a near-sarcastic self-mockery.

Wen Jiang’s match-3 hit a new level. He was partly paying attention to Xie Qi too—the style now clashed hugely with his usual impression.

Unlike when helping Wen Jiang, where even at peak frenzy there was cherishing restraint, Xie Qi’s pace now was frantic and fast. Say he wasn’t enjoying it? His presence screamed otherwise. Say he was? It bordered on rough, laced with pent-up anger that made a non-participant like Wen Jiang want to suggest, Maybe slow down?

A style infused with anger and mild violence had its fans in art, but seeing someone solo like this was a first for Wen Jiang.

Yet Xie Qi was obedient. Midway through, Qian Lang called Wen Jiang. He told Xie Qi to stop, and the attempted final sprint halted abruptly, veins bulging on his arms from restraint.

So compliant—should praise him. As Wen Jiang thought this, he casually pinched Xie Qi’s nape. A sharper sensation told him to hold off.

Though it circled back to venting emotions via desire to stabilize the Supernatural Ability, this felt off no matter how you sliced it.

More concerning than the act itself was Xie Qi’s Supernatural Ability. Stability had always correlated positively with his mood before. Now, the room’s air currents were steady and controlled, but Xie Qi’s emotions seemed far worse than they appeared.

Wen Jiang chatted briefly with Qian Lang, hung up, and decided he really needed to talk to Qian Lang properly the day after tomorrow.

“All good.”

At his words, Xie Qi’s breath heated abruptly. His voice sounded strained, like he was stuck right at the edge. He grew restless, lips pressing to Wen Jiang’s skin again.

They’d had more intimate contact before; compared to that, just hugging should be a “step back,” yet somehow this felt stranger.

He remembered when even hand-holding with Xie Qi had time limits. Now they hugged, with private matters arising. Wen Jiang couldn’t help reflecting: Boiling frog syndrome? Or human adaptability?

Probably the former—nobody else could pull this off with him.

……That sounds so weird.

Wen Jiang idly tilted his head, spotting Xie Qi’s flushed, burning ear.

His face showed nothing; no one could guess his thoughts. He was like a cat fixated on a light spot flickering on the wall.

Xie Qi wallowed in near-agony, teetering on the brink. Wen Jiang waited silently, then suddenly blew a puff of air into his ear.

“!?”

Xie Qi’s mind blanked. His body jolted in sudden release, clearly hearing Wen Jiang’s soft chuckle.

Like a feather brushing my heart.

Wen Jiang had permitted this, was so relaxed in front of him.

His heart could wither in an instant, revive on a drop of water. Xie Qi lifted his head, met Wen Jiang’s gaze, stared for seconds, then leaned in face-first.

Anyone would react the same to a sudden approach—fake relationship or confirmed lover aside. Wen Jiang shifted aside, creating distance. Xie Qi turned his head accordingly, tightening his one-armed hug. His hand balled into a fist behind, nails digging deep into his palm.

Lock the room.

Seal this place—from doors, windows, fences, contacts, networks. Cut all ties to the outside.

“Time to clean up.” Wen Jiang spoke calmly, prank successful and utterly justified, showing a unguarded ease he’d never reveal to another S-Grade.

“—”

……I’m such a

fucking idiot. Have mercy. Xie Qi took a deep breath, exhaling: “Yeah.”

The air currents steadied, no hint of chaos. In Wen Jiang’s presence, losing control of his Supernatural Ability was becoming impossible—even if issues arose, he’d instinctively learn control from his words.

But hurricanes raged inside him, impulses to destroy everything surging, blocked by a tight shell.

Xie Qi thought: I’m about to go insane.

Supplement: Exactly what the two were up to when Qian Lang called ()

Can’t hold back much longer—not far from thrusting right through that final barrier now (nods).