As soon as they finished their snacks, Xiao Qiu came scampering back over as promised. When he saw Wen Jiang and Xie Qi still there, his eyes lit up like stars.
The kid’s features hadn’t fully matured yet, but they already hinted at handsome good looks—like an adorable little cherub, carved from jade and dough. He gazed up at Wen Jiang expectantly, a touch shy. Wen Jiang naturally reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair, only to suddenly feel an intense gaze boring into him.
He paused in silence, turning his head. Xie Qi was staring incredulously at the hand resting on the child’s head, his eyes flickering with three parts shock, four parts envy, and three parts grievance.
He hasn’t even ruffled my hair lately!
Wen Jiang: …
Wen Jiang ignored the stare. He looked down at Xiao Qiu’s pure, innocent eyes and decided he couldn’t let a kid this age develop any weird ideas about head pats. His hand stayed firmly in place.
Xie Qi’s silent protest went unanswered, so he had to regulate himself. He was well-practiced at this by now. He quietly shifted his gaze back, thinking, Fine, patting a kid is still better than patting Lin Xun.
No matter what, Xie Qi’s mood had clearly improved after sharing a meal alone with Wen Jiang. His “intimidation factor” toward the child had dropped significantly too. When Xiao Qiu wanted to go on the carousel, his eyes blinked pleadingly, as if he’d spotted hope in Xie Qi’s softened demeanor. Along the way, he kept stealing glances at the man but didn’t dare speak up.
Once they reached the carousel area, Xiao Qiu took Lin Xun’s hand and sneaked another look at Xie Qi. Lin Xun caught on and chuckled wryly. “…Looks like Xiao Qiu wants you to take him.”
Xie Qi shot him a cold look. Using a kid as an excuse to get rid of me? Lin Xun really has no shame.
Xie Qi didn’t volunteer, leaving the final call to Wen Jiang. “You take him,” Wen Jiang said to Xie Qi.
Lin Xun was actually a bit surprised by this. Xie Qi touched the Neck Collar around his own neck, his face sour, but he wasn’t shocked by Wen Jiang’s response. He took the child’s hand from Lin Xun. Before leaving, he caught Lin Xun’s astonishment and responded with a provocative smirk, irritation bubbling up.
What, did you think Wen Jiang would argue with a kid? He’d never be that clingy. Lin Xun still doesn’t get him.
Somehow, things unfolded with Xie Qi taking Lin Xun’s little brother on the carousel while Lin Xun himself stayed back a ways with Wen Jiang, watching. The atmosphere turned silent. Ever since they’d crossed paths at Aili Bakery, this was the first time they’d been alone face-to-face like this.
“…” Lin Xun spoke up. “Man, he’s really latched onto you two. He’s even forgotten his own big brother.”
“It’s just for now,” Wen Jiang said flatly. “He’s definitely closest to you.”
Kids always wanted to be liked by everyone, but that kind of affection came and went fast. When it came to spending long-term time with someone, he’d of course pick Lin Xun.
Lin Xun laughed lightly. “Sorry for the spectacle.”
Lin Xun opened his mouth but didn’t say the expected “Xiao Qiu’s been a bother” platitudes. Instead, he rubbed his nose out of nowhere. “He’s… really well-behaved. And smart. I should watch him better.”
Wen Jiang blinked at that, giving Lin Xun a proper look. Lin Xun’s heart skipped. Wen Jiang nodded slightly. “He’s a good kid. You’ve raised him well.”
It was obvious—Lin Xun had his issues, sure, but he was genuinely a good big brother. Gentle and patient with kids, never yelling or hitting, never lording over him with commands. He respected Xiao Qiu’s thoughts, which was why the boy clung to him. Lin Xun knows how to treat a kid like a person. Too bad he doesn’t get it with adults his age.
For the first time, Lin Xun got validation from Wen Jiang. He froze, a flush creeping onto his face. He must’ve said something else after that, but Wen Jiang suddenly felt off. The man’s voice sounded muffled, like it was filtered through a layer of water.
…It was getting hot around them.
Wen Jiang blinked slowly, noticing his wrist turning faintly red. He pulled a pack of candy from his bag and handed it to Lin Xun. “Give this to him later.”
“You’re giving him a whole pack at once? Sure, I’ll make sure he gets it.” Lin Xun smiled, accepting it without fanfare. His tone lightened. He paused, then grinned. “Getting a gift from you? I’m almost jealous.”
Wen Jiang… didn’t react.
The voices grew distant, his vision blurring. Amid that all-too-familiar heat, Wen Jiang thought, This should be the last time.
Lin Xun stood beside him, eyes suddenly widening.
“Wen Jiang? You okay—”
Lin Xun sounded anxious, reaching out as he spoke. But the next second, his voice cut off. His hand froze mid-air. Wen Jiang gripped his wrist, blocking any further contact.
Lin Xun froze, then snapped back to reality. His heart sank before his mind could catch up.
Just like back then, there was a faint flush on Wen Jiang’s face from pure physiology—but that was it. Those eyes stared silently at him, like an unresponsive abyss, a frigid ravine adrift with ice floes.
The grip on his wrist matched. Heavy, steady. Not the hot, soft, powerless clasp of someone lost to heat syndrome, ripe for the taking. This hand conveyed clear, sober, unyielding rejection.
The afternoon sun warmed their skin, but Lin Xun felt something inside him go abruptly cold.
…For real?
Me, really…?
Lin Xun tasted his own instinctive panic, followed by dawning disbelief.
“What value do you have to make Wen Jiang waste energy teaching a second person like you?” Qian Lang’s words echoed. He’d brushed them off as annoying back then, but now, staring into Wen Jiang’s eyes, Lin Xun got it.
Sure, he had plenty of merits. Not everyone who’d fallen for him was blind. Born at the top of the pyramid, with genuine popularity.
Lin Xun wasn’t worthless. Quite the opposite—he had superior money and power, rare talents and abilities. He wasn’t a total scumbag either. Like how he was a gentle, soft-spoken big brother. Objectively, he ticked some boxes for universal virtues.
Wen Jiang didn’t care.
Appreciating Lin Xun’s appeal would take effort to “understand.”
Changing for Wen Jiang might yield results eventually, maybe even better than Xie Qi—but that would take effort to “train.”
So what extraordinary qualities did he—or they—have to justify Wen Jiang carving out that effort?
A fierce jealousy and resentment bubbled up in Lin Xun, fermenting darkly under the sun. For a split second, he wanted to badmouth Xie Qi’s Collar, call him out as no good breed—Wen Jiang didn’t know the old Xie Qi, how volatile and violent he was, impossible to control. No one in those circles was decent. But staring into Wen Jiang’s abyssal eyes sobered him instantly. Then defeat washed over him.
Wen Jiang had no reason to spare a glance for a second person. It had nothing to do with Xie Qi’s worth. Just… no need.
“…Sorry.”
Lin Xun murmured, trying to pull his hand back. Wen Jiang loosened his grip, allowing it.
Lin Xun felt something slip through his fingertips—though it was an illusion. He’d never held anything to begin with.
He stood silent for a moment. Finally, he forced out, “I’ll… go call Xie Qi over.”
He paused. “…Sorry.”
“No need.”
Wen Jiang spoke calmly, standing ramrod straight. A commotion stirred from the carousel. Xie Qi pushed through the crowd, freezing at the close-up sight of Wen Jiang before striding over to drape an arm around him.
It mostly blocked the view, but Wen Jiang’s steps weren’t unsteady. He didn’t need support. He seemed clearer-headed than anyone, glancing first at the rides. Xie Qi caught on. “He’s fine. Feng’s watching him.”
Xiao Qiu peered from his carousel horse, subtle air currents coiling around him protectively. The words were for Lin Xun too. Xie Qi glanced at him, too lazy for more words. He murmured softly to Wen Jiang, “I’ll handle it. Let’s go.”
No need for that either. Theoretically, just a bathroom would do… Wen Jiang considered, then dismissed it. He turned to Lin Xun instead. Lin Xun forced a smile, his tone forcibly upbeat. “Uh, I’ll watch Xiao Qiu. You two have fun.”
What the hell am I even saying? He cringed immediately after, but no one cared. Wen Jiang turned away without looking back.
***
After the carousel, Xiao Qiu returned to Lin Xun’s side. Learning the other big brothers had to leave suddenly, he nodded obediently, looking a bit disappointed. Lin Xun had him hold out his hands, then magicked a pack of candy out like a trick. Xiao Qiu’s eyes lit right back up.
It was a gift from Big Brother. Xiao Qiu popped a candy in his mouth as Lin Xun led him to the next fun spot. Looking up at Lin Xun’s distracted profile, he suddenly asked, “Is that big brother ‘Muse’?”
…Muse?
Lin Xun blanked, then realized it was the kid’s take on “Muses.” He nearly choked, coughing dramatically. “Where’d you get that idea?”
“I saw it when you were using your phone! ‘Muse’ was pinned at the top.”
Such a diligent learner—I even looked up how to pronounce that weird first character! Xiao Qiu beamed, proudly showing off his genius deduction to Lin Xun. “Pinned people must be super important, right? Your lock screen’s him too, and lock screens are for important people, so the lock screen’s Muse!”
When did you snoop on my phone?! Lin Xun was speechless, a “thieves at home are hardest to guard against” alert firing in his mind. He “uh-ummed” for a bit, unsure why he was holding back with this little rascal. Finally, he scrubbed his face. “Yeah.”
See? Told ya! Xiao Qiu’s eyes curved happily. But then the second issue hit: The “Hear-chan” big brother clearly got along better with the always-scowly-faced one. A whirlwind of TV drama plots spun through his little head. Lin Xun watched, bemused, as the boy’s brow furrowed, then smoothed in realization, then turned thoughtful. Finally, he looked up at Lin Xun with a mix of emotion, sadness, and tolerance. “So… should Big Bro’s lock screen stay Muse from now on?”
What the hell goes on in kids’ heads these days?
Lin Xun choked again. In a daze, he felt like he was starring in some cheesy 8 PM soap opera—as the heartbroken guy who’d just split from his lover.
Friends advise ditching the ex’s stuff to move on. Plenty of fish in the sea, no need to fixate on one flower…
…Not a bad idea.
Lin Xun opened his mouth, but his mind wandered: There won’t be another Muse in this world.
Hadn’t he sensed it back at the cake shop, from Wen Jiang’s reaction? But one smile, one finger crook from Wen Jiang, and he’d forget it all.
He wavered between joking it off and brutal honesty, then said, “Changing it wouldn’t mean anything anyway.”
So might as well keep it.
