Chapter 44
Song Jingmo loved Xie Zhang in a suit, especially a full suit, the formal attire adding to his aloof, reserved aura. In winter, he’d often wear a long coat over it.
One snowy day, a thin layer of snow had dusted Xie Zhang’s hair and shoulders as he’d entered the house.
That image had stayed with Song Jingmo.
He loved watching Xie Zhang like this, feeling as if he was privy to a hidden treasure, a secret only he knew.
Although he hadn’t actually… unwrapped… that treasure very often.
But!
He didn’t understand why Xie Zhang had dressed up like this now.
Layers upon layers of clothing, even socks! Who was he trying to impress?!
Virtue was a good quality, but not in bed.
Hmph.
The chibi shadow sat on the dresser opposite the bed, trying to be at eye level with Xie Zhang, his arms crossed, his entire form radiating displeasure.
Xie Zhang couldn’t resist poking him.
A shadow tendril firmly pushed his hand away.
No touching, virtuous Mr. Xie.
Xie Zhang caught the tendril and gently swung it back and forth.
Song Jingmo: “…Hmph.”
Xie Zhang, his gaze fixed on him, seeing the sulking shadow deflate slightly, explained softly: “I’m wearing many layers, so Momo can ask many questions.”
This instantly appeased Song Jingmo.
And it triggered a wave of… protectiveness… that had been growing within him.
The previously aloof shadow tendril wrapped around Xie Zhang’s hand, nuzzling his wrist.
Xie Zhang didn’t actually need to be appeased; he could easily manage his own emotions.
But being nuzzled by the shadow tendril made him smile.
Song Jingmo looked at him.
Hmm.
He suddenly realized that Xie Zhang, in his formal attire, looked… surprisingly appealing… He remembered the way Xie Zhang had meticulously fastened his cufflinks.
Hmm…
A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes, and he began adding layers of clothing and accessories to his own chibi form, his previously deflated shadow regaining its plumpness.
“Okay! Let’s begin! Hmm… rock-paper-scissors for who goes first.”
Rock, paper, scissors.
Song Jingmo was enthusiastic, while Xie Zhang, who hadn’t played this game in years, was a bit slow, even mimicking Song-shadow’s rock after it had already been thrown.
Song Jingmo: “?”
Xie Zhang: “…”
Song Jingmo tentatively changed his rock to paper.
Xie Zhang smiled: “Okay, Momo goes first.”
Song Jingmo, flustered by this blatant act of favoritism: “!”
He’d read countless romance novels, but he’d only ever dated Xie Zhang.
He’d never had many suitors, even wondering if he had some kind of “romance repellent” aura.
But he’d later realized why.
His brother had effectively eliminated any potential romantic interests before high school, and afterwards, his obsession with anime and music had created a barrier, deterring any potential suitors.
He didn’t think it was his fault.
That’s how it was for people like him, caught between the 2D and 3D worlds.
Not as intensely passionate as hardcore otaku, nor as socially active as “normal” people.
They occupied a space in between, with few friends, even fewer relationships, their lives filled with fictional romances and quiet contentment.
If it weren’t for that fateful encounter and their spontaneous trip, he’d probably have succumbed to his brother’s pressure and joined the Song corporation, a slightly incompetent but functional executive, occasionally indulging in self-funded concerts.
Eww, how depressing.
Thinking this, the chibi shadow pounced on Xie Zhang’s fist, kissing it.
Stoic or not, a man who could be moved to such tenderness was a good man.
Song Jingmo, happily accepting Xie Zhang’s biased officiating, kissed him again: “Mwah~”
Xie Zhang had grown accustomed to Song-shadow’s affectionate displays.
While he’d initially blushed furiously, he could now maintain his composure, even imagining how it would feel if it were the warm, living Momo touching him.
Song Jingmo was unaware that the stoic Xie Zhang was gradually becoming… less stoic.
Since they were playing a slightly suggestive game, he figured they should talk about… intimate… things.
His first statement escalated the game to DEFCON 1: “I’ve kissed your eight-pack while you were sleeping!”
He looked at Xie Zhang expectantly.
Xie Zhang was silent for a moment.
His reaction wasn’t one of surprise or embarrassment, but something… more complex, a hint of… struggle… in his eyes.
Song Jingmo: “…?”
No… way…
Xie Zhang sighed, his gaze lowered, his voice a quiet confession: “I’ve done that too.”
“Many times.”
“Not just your stomach.”
His tone was calm, matter-of-fact.
Song Jingmo instinctively clutched his own flat stomach, his shadow cracking.
So Xie Zhang, the seemingly reserved and virtuous man, had a secret, slightly perverse side!
He was speechless for a moment, then, accepting defeat, he removed a shadow jacket, rolling up his non-existent sleeves, ready for the next round.
It was Xie Zhang’s turn.
He thought for a moment, then said: “I’ve looked at your photos while at work.”
Song Jingmo instantly perked up.
“I’ve done that too! My desk drawer is full of your photos!”
He might not have a traditional job, but composing was work!
Xie Zhang obediently removed his tie, placing it neatly beside him.
His long, slender fingers, the veins on his hand momentarily visible before disappearing beneath his smooth skin, were captivating.
Song Jingmo could practically hear himself gulp.
He suddenly wished he were alive.
If he were, this trip down memory lane, this rekindled connection, would be… incredibly exciting.
Perhaps the tie would end up around his or Xie Zhang’s wrist—tsk!
If only he could turn off his pain receptors.
After all, while Xie Zhang was… well-endowed… he wasn’t exactly… gentle.
If he weren’t a shadow, he wouldn’t dare tease Xie Zhang like this.
The memory of that excruciating pain…
…was still vivid.
He tore his gaze away from Xie Zhang’s tie.
It was his turn.
He thought carefully, then said confidently: “I’ve written… explicit… stories about you!”
Xie Zhang, silent, removed his jacket.
“I’ve secretly drawn pictures of us in bed!”
Xie Zhang raised an eyebrow, removing his vest.
“I’ve spied on you while you were working out!”
Xie Zhang’s expression shifted, surprised, trying to recall when Song Jingmo had been near the gym. He unbuckled his belt.
“I’ve measured your… length!”
Song Jingmo, growing bolder, gaining confidence, removed a pair of shadow pants as Xie Zhang removed his belt.
“I’ve spied on you in the shower!”
Xie Zhang’s hand, reaching for his cufflinks, froze. He looked at the chibi shadow, who was rubbing his hands together gleefully.
Song Jingmo, seeing his reaction, his eyes widening, felt a familiar sense of impending doom.
No way…
Had Xie Zhang, the stoic, seemingly unromantic Xie Zhang, actually done that?!
He didn’t believe it!
Xie Zhang’s lips tightened: “Once, after your performance, you were changing backstage, and I went to give you flowers… and I saw.”
“That was an accident, not intentional,” Song Jingmo argued.
Xie Zhang looked at him: “I watched for half an hour.”
Song Jingmo, whose showers usually lasted half an hour: “?”
Xie Zhang: “And I heard you singing the rubber ducky song.”
Song Jingmo, stunned: “…”
Touché.
