Fifteen minutes later, Jing Li captured a satisfying photo of the starry sky and got lucky with a shooting star streaking across it. Tearing his gaze from the heavens, he suddenly felt freezing. Grabbing Ji Yunzhang’s hand, he bolted back to the RV, hopped inside, and slammed the door—all in one fluid motion.
Ji Yunzhang, pulled aboard, watched as Jing Li shivered and hopped in place from the cold. Unable to stifle a chuckle, he handed over the hot water bottle he’d prepared earlier, then poured a cup of warm water and set it within reach.
The water warmed Jing Li right up. Clutching the hot water bottle, he settled onto the seat and scooted over to make room. Tilting his face up, he said, “Sit, Teacher Ji.”
Ji Yunzhang obliged. Jing Li grasped his hand—icy cold, as expected—and promptly shared half the hot water bottle. Grinning, he said, “Together.”
As if remembering something, he added, “One half each, and our feelings won’t fade.”
Ji Yunzhang gave him a deep look, amusement threading through his voice. “Alright.”
With the RV’s temperature set to twenty degrees, they warmed up after just a few minutes of sitting. Jing Li sprang back to life, snatched his camera, and scrolled through the starry sky shots he’d taken.
The images were breathtaking: stars blanketing the sky, celestial bodies hanging so low they seemed within arm’s reach, the shooting star’s tail captured mid-streak amid a vast sea of twinkling lights. The composition was flawless.
“Have you studied photography?” Ji Yunzhang asked.
“Not really,” Jing Li said, stowing the camera. “I modeled for a senior at the Art Academy for half a month and picked up a few tricks from her. These aren’t that great.”
Ji Yunzhang examined the photos again. “They’re excellent. Very professional.”
Jing Li’s lips quirked up. He never tired of praise.
It was still early, and the bed was too narrow for both of them to turn in yet. Sitting in silence felt dull. Jing Li pondered for a moment. “Teacher Ji, do you play games?”
“What kind?”
Jing Li pulled up a hot new mobile game and angled his phone screen toward Ji Yunzhang. “This one.”
“Never tried it,” Ji Yunzhang said. “Will you teach me?”
It seemed like a fine idea, so Jing Li nodded.
Once the game was downloaded and Ji Yunzhang logged in, Jing Li scooted close, his head nearly resting on Ji Yunzhang’s shoulder as he meticulously explained each character’s abilities.
A few stray locks of hair brushed Ji Yunzhang’s jaw. Unbidden, his gaze drifted downward, fixing on Jing Li’s face, on the movement of his lips. His eyes darkened gradually.
But his self-control was impeccable. The instant he caught his thoughts straying, he wrenched his gaze away, grabbed the water cup from the table, and took a sip.
“Which one do you want?” Jing Li asked, having finished his rundown. He turned back, expectant.
Burying the errant thoughts, Ji Yunzhang kept his expression neutral. “Holy Knight.”
Jing Li blinked curiously. “Why that one?”
“It can heal itself, and its attack power is solid,” he replied with a soft chuckle. “Can’t have me holding you back.”
Jing Li’s lips curved into a smile. “Teacher Ji, that’s the mindset of a god-tier teammate.”
Ji Yunzhang smiled faintly. “I’ll do my best to be your perfect partner.”
The first round was rough—even for Ji Yunzhang, it ended in game over within minutes, like any newbie.
But after just three rounds, he’d mastered the mechanics. From the fourth onward, he played brilliantly, teaming with Jing Li to nearly demolish the enemy’s Crystal Tower.
The fifth round was even stronger. When “Victory” flashed on screen, Jing Li stared in shock. Wasn’t this a bit too quick? Less than an hour!
Flexing his fingers, Ji Yunzhang caught his expression and smiled. “I played a ton of games back in school. They’re all cut from the same cloth—master one, and the rest fall into place.”
His gaze settled on Jing Li. “Besides, you’re carrying me.”
Jing Li knew he hadn’t done that much, but he appreciated the sweet talk.
He queued up another match. “One more?”
Ji Yunzhang murmured his assent.
They played several more rounds, winning them all handily.
Around ten o’clock, Ji Yunzhang set his phone aside. Even though Jing Li wasn’t gaming anymore, he was still staring at his screen. “Put it down,” Ji Yunzhang said gently. “Give your eyes a break.”
Jing Li complied, stretching languidly before asking, “Teacher Ji, do you want to shower first, or should I?”
“You go ahead. I need to call home.”
Jing Li headed off.
By the time Jing Li emerged, hair still dripping, Ji Yunzhang had finished his call. He tugged Jing Li down to sit, fetched the hairdryer, and began blow-drying his hair.
Amid the steady hum, Jing Li asked, “Everyone at home doing okay?”
Ji Yunzhang’s fingers wove gently through the damp strands, his touch tender. “Very well.”
Before the question could be asked, he added, “Custard Bun is doing great too. It’s still at my brother’s place. An An and Mianmian love it so much they don’t want to let it go. Mianmian even hugs it to sleep every night.”
Jing Li laughed. “Custard Bun is such an affectionate little thing. It must be thrilled to be held while sleeping. It’ll absolutely adore Mianmian.”
Ji Yunzhang said, “It likes you the most.”
Jing Li lifted his chin proudly, puffing out his chest. “Of course. I’m its dad, after all.”
The hairdryer clicked off. Ji Yunzhang ran his fingers through Jing Li’s roots to confirm they were fully dry, then patted his shoulder. “Head to bed. I’m going to take a shower.”
Jing Li hesitated in place for a few seconds but obeyed, climbing into bed first. His pajamas were too thin, and the air felt chilly against his skin.
When Ji Yunzhang emerged from the shower, he spotted Jing Li completely buried under the covers. He grabbed a towel at random, draped it over the camera, and only then approached the bedside to fish Jing Li out from the blankets.
The prairie night was profoundly still, the wind whispering like a lullaby. Jing Li was already drifting off to sleep. When Ji Yunzhang pulled him free, he merely glanced up at him before letting his eyes flutter shut once more in relaxation.
Half his face sank into the pillow, stray locks of hair clinging to his cheek as he breathed softly and evenly.
He looked so sweetly obedient in slumber.
Ji Yunzhang slipped into bed as well.
The bed was cramped—not just too narrow, but a touch too short too. Ji Yunzhang had to lie on his side with his legs curled up slightly, which brought him into contact with Jing Li.
On previous nights, the beds had been spacious enough that even sharing one, he and Jing Li had stayed on opposite sides without touching. Tonight was the first time their bodies brushed.
No matter how he shifted, though, contact was inevitable. He stopped trying.
Jing Li’s feet were cold—even fresh from a shower and straight under the covers, they remained icy. Sensing the warmth nearby, he unconsciously nudged them toward Ji Yunzhang, only settling contentedly once they pressed against him.
“…”
His eyes had adjusted to the dark. Ji Yunzhang watched Jing Li, tracing his features in the shadows, until sleep finally overtook him.
But that night, Ji Yunzhang did not rest easily.
The awkward position was part of it.
Then there was Jing Li.
The bed was so small that a simple roll brought them together—and in the latter half of the night, Jing Li tumbled right into his arms, clinging tightly as his warm breath ghosted across Ji Yunzhang’s neck.
Ji Yunzhang came fully awake, sleep fleeing entirely.
…
The next morning, Jing Li was roused by the staff knocking at the door.
When awareness returned, he found his forehead pressed to Ji Yunzhang’s shoulder, his limbs wrapped around him like an octopus. His mind blanked, leaving him frozen in shock.
A soft chuckle sounded from above, followed by Ji Yunzhang’s low, gentle voice and the pat of a hand on his back through the covers. “If you’re awake, time to get up. It’s half past eight.”
Jing Li finally snapped to. Mortified, he bolted upright, scrambling to get off the bed—only to realize he’d have to climb over Ji Yunzhang to do it. He froze.
Ducking his head to hide his flaming cheeks, he couldn’t conceal his pink ears. “Teacher Ji, you first.”
Ji Yunzhang occasionally teased Jing Li over harmless things, but never when he was this flustered. He agreed mildly, “Alright.”
Once out of bed, he gave Jing Li’s head a gentle stroke. “I know,” he said warmly by way of explanation. “It was cold last night, and the bed’s too small.”
He withdrew his hand. “I’ll go wash up.”
Leaving Jing Li space to compose himself.
While Ji Yunzhang washed up, Jing Li glanced at the still-covered camera, whipped off the covers, and dove back under them, rolling around several times.
He resurfaced, sat up, and took a deep breath in, then out—repeating the exercise until his heart settled.
He got out of bed, changed out of his pajamas, drew back the blackout curtains, removed the towel from the camera, and set water to boil for coffee.
Ji Yunzhang finished washing up just as the coffee was ready.
Jing Li handed him a cup. “It’s instant. It’ll have to do.”
Ji Yunzhang wasn’t picky. “It’s fine.”
He smiled at him, and Jing Li headed off to wash up.
Ji Yunzhang finished his coffee, rummaged in the fridge for a pack of half-prepared crystal dumplings, and steamed them. He boiled fresh water to heat some milk for Jing Li.
After breakfast, everyone piled out of the vehicles. Once gathered, they set off for the ranch a dozen or so kilometers away.
The prime season for prairie tourism was June through September; winter brought few visitors, so the ranch had hardly any guests. The program team saved on buying out the place.
At the ranch, Guan Lin didn’t mandate any particular activities. She simply encouraged everyone to enjoy themselves, so they each sought out their favorites.
Zhou Shi and Chen Xiaohan went horseback riding. Both were skilled riders, and the expansive grounds with their stunning scenery made for perfect footage. They had their assistant tag along to snap photos.
Yang Yi and Zhou Yan also headed off to ride horses, though Zhou Yan had no experience with it, so Yang Yi was teaching him.
Shen Ru, Yu Jiayuan, Lang Yan, and Yu Miyue, meanwhile, ran over to the racetrack. The place offered off-road vehicles and a proper course for it.
Jing Li, for his part, took an interest in the shooting range and dragged Ji Yunzhang along with him.
Ji Yunzhang had already taught him the basics back at the Ji Residence, so Jing Li’s posture—nocking the arrow and drawing the bow—was spot on now. His aim, however, still left much to be desired.
…Well, it was sorely lacking. He wasn’t just missing the bullseye; more often than not, he missed the target entirely.
After yet another wild miss, he paused and turned to Ji Yunzhang.
The shooting range was indoors, with the heat cranked up, so they’d both shed their heavy coats. Beneath his, Ji Yunzhang wore a simple solid-color sweater. As he drew the bowstring taut, the muscles in his arms and back flexed visibly through the fabric, tracing out perfect, sculpted lines.
The arrow flew swift and true, fast enough to whistle through the air as it plunged unerringly into the bullseye.
Jing Li couldn’t help but burst into applause.
No matter how many times he saw it, Ji Yunzhang looked utterly dashing when he shot.
At the sound of the clapping, Ji Yunzhang glanced up. Jing Li was grinning ear to ear, eyes crinkled in delight as he flashed dual thumbs-up.
The two of them spent more than an hour at the range before Zhou Shi and Chen Xiaohan wandered over.
Spotting them, Jing Li asked, “Done riding already?”
Chen Xiaohan waved a hand. “We ended up jogging a few kilometers instead. It’s murder on the waist and legs.”
She grinned. “Plus, we got some great photos out of it.” Then she turned to them. “You’ve been here the whole time?”
Jing Li nodded. “I wanted to try archery, so Teacher Ji’s been keeping me company.”
At that, Chen Xiaohan glanced at Ji Yunzhang, marveling inwardly at how much he’d changed.
She’d never worked directly with him, but they’d crossed paths at various business events over the years. Each time, she’d found him more aloof than the last, his polite smile nothing but a flawless mask.
Several years back, one of her close friends had developed a crush and talked about pursuing him. Chen Xiaohan had talked her out of it. In her eyes, Ji Yunzhang was the picture of elegance and refinement—polite, gentlemanly, noble in every way. But he was distant, impossible to truly connect with.
You needed the right credentials just to catch his eye.
And those credentials? He was the one who decided if you had them.
It sounded harsh, but it was the truth. Over the years, people inside and outside their circle alike had flocked to him—many of them exceptional in their own right—yet not one had ever breached the walls around his heart.
But here, on this variety show, she was seeing a different man. The chill was gone. He doted on Jing Li with exquisite care, handled him with infinite patience, and his gaze never strayed far from the young man for long.
It astonished her. It felt like magic.
“Xiaohan.” Zhou Shi’s voice pulled her back.
She blinked, took Zhou Shi’s hand, and they headed off together to select bows and arrows. After a few steps, though, she glanced back over her shoulder.
Not far away, Ji Yunzhang and Jing Li stood shoulder to shoulder. Jing Li had said something that set him laughing with unrestrained joy, and Ji Yunzhang watched him with a smile as soft and serene as the first flower blooming in spring after the winter snows had melted.
She was certain of it then: Ji Yunzhang was deeply, truly smitten with Jing Li.
