“Is it okay?”
Duan Zhao’s question rang clearly in Ji Zhi’s ears.
The other man hadn’t asked before, but now he was handing the reins to Ji Zhi, letting him decide what came next.
Ji Zhi already had a good idea of what Duan Zhao intended. After all, they’d done everything but the final step. Perhaps that was exactly why Duan Zhao was asking.
Ji Zhi’s body reacted honestly before his mind could catch up. Under that gaze, which grew ever hotter and sent his heart racing, and amid the probing question, he felt a wave of dizziness, as if he were floating in a warm current.
His thoughts grew more chaotic. He bit his lip and fell silent again, hoping to stay quiet like before.
But Duan Zhao didn’t take the silence as consent this time. Instead, he pressed on, determined to hear an answer from Ji Zhi’s lips.
Duan Zhao had keenly noticed the shift in Ji Zhi’s attitude. Rather than backing off considerately as he had before, giving Ji Zhi space to stay silent, he stepped forward into this dangerous, ambiguous territory.
“Xiao Zhi…” Duan Zhao called again, his voice dropping even lower, laced with a magnetic huskiness that amplified endlessly in the quiet room, striking right at Ji Zhi’s heart.
He leaned in closer, his warm breath nearly brushing Ji Zhi’s ear, triggering an uncontrollable shiver. “Tell me, is it okay?”
Ji Zhi felt enveloped by the man’s presence—a crisp scent laced with a uniquely masculine allure, utterly different from his own or any woman’s touch in the past. The realization filled him with panic, yet deep within that panic stirred a secret itch, gnawed at by desire.
Duan Zhao’s patience was astonishing. He wasn’t impatient; he simply watched Ji Zhi intently, waiting for his response. His gaze felt almost tangible, slowly searing across Ji Zhi’s skin.
If not for the heat radiating from Duan Zhao’s body, Ji Zhi might have thought the man was as steady as his tone suggested.
The word “no” rolled around in Ji Zhi’s throat, but he couldn’t spit it out. Saying it outright felt like admitting he craved the man’s body.
His once-firm belief in his straight world was teetering on the brink.
Duan Zhao caught every nuance of Ji Zhi’s expression.
He could clearly see the subtle struggles on Ji Zhi’s face—the unconscious bite of his lip, eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings, cheeks flushed with crimson, and eyes shimmering with a watery longing that even Ji Zhi himself might not have noticed.
Duan Zhao seized on that flicker of desire. A hidden, surging joy slammed into his heart like a dark undercurrent erupting beneath a calm sea.
Ji Zhi’s body was already familiar with his touch, craving it; every previous tremble and response had been genuine. But Duan Zhao knew true acceptance lay in the mind. Now, he saw signs that barrier was crumbling.
Duan Zhao realized Ji Zhi’s silence was no longer pure refusal but a tangled mix of hesitation and tacit permission.
What he wanted had never been mere physical submission. He craved Ji Zhi’s willing, clear surrender. Though tempted to press for the answer, he worried pushing too hard might scare him off.
When it came to Ji Zhi, Duan Zhao could never fully separate his emotions; they always held him back.
Meanwhile, Ji Zhi was still wrestling with himself when he noticed Duan Zhao move.
Had Duan Zhao finally lost patience…?
Relief that he didn’t have to decide anymore sparked in Ji Zhi’s heart, but it was quickly overshadowed by something off.
Duan Zhao let out a soft sigh, tinged with faint regret. The breath grazed Ji Zhi’s sensitive earlobe, intensifying the shiver, before he pulled back and sat up.
Ji Zhi: ???
The enveloping heat and aggressive aura vanished abruptly. The air, once thick with intimacy, rushed back in, leaving a cool void.
Duan Zhao straightened up. His gaze lingered on Ji Zhi’s face, but the fire in it had cooled, returning to its usual steady restraint—tinged now with just the right touch of…
Apology?
“I got ahead of myself,” Duan Zhao said, his voice smooth and even, as if the man who’d tempted him with breaths and whispers hadn’t been him. “If you’re not willing, I won’t force you.”
He said it so naturally, with such consideration and respect, neatly redefining Ji Zhi’s conflicted silence as unwillingness.
In the past, Ji Zhi would have felt relieved. Now, his emotions were a tangled mess.
His eyes followed Duan Zhao. The desire still burned in the man’s gaze, yet he was already dressing, slipping on his glasses, reverting to his usual self. He poured Ji Zhi a glass of water, then headed to the bathroom nearby.
The sound of running water made it clear what Duan Zhao was doing.
Ji Zhi felt their relationship had fallen into a strange impasse.
Duan Zhao still touched him at night, but always stopped at the final step, asking, “Is it okay?”
Ji Zhi’s silence or shake of the head would make him stop completely.
Otherwise, their daily lives continued unchanged, methodical as ever.
Each time, Duan Zhao would pull back at the brink, head to the bathroom, leaving Ji Zhi alone on sheets still warm with his scent and heat, his body aching with unfulfilled need.
In that void, Ji Zhi would listen to the faint water sounds from the bathroom and shamefully take care of the fire Duan Zhao had lit—and then extinguished himself. But it always left him with an inexplicable emptiness.
Though Ji Zhi wanted to hold out, Duan Zhao’s repeated touches and kisses had worn him down. His body, more honest than his mind, had betrayed his old beliefs, yearning for deeper union.
This time, when Duan Zhao paused again at the edge, breathing ragged, sweat beading on his forehead, his desire-darkened eyes locking onto Ji Zhi’s as he rasped, “Xiao Zhi, is it okay?”, Ji Zhi felt his taut nerves snap.
Duan Zhao seemed to sense the more violent tremors wracking Ji Zhi’s body and the tears nearly spilling from his eyes. He hesitated, as he had countless times before, drawing a deep breath to push himself away.
Just as his arm tensed and his warmth began to retreat—
Ji Zhi’s hand shot out, grabbing Duan Zhao’s forearm.
The grip was light, like a feather, but enough for Duan Zhao to notice. He instinctively looked down.
Ji Zhi’s face was flushed crimson, nearly dripping blood. His eyelashes were wet with physiological tears, clumped together. He couldn’t meet Duan Zhao’s eyes, turning his head to bury his scorching cheek in the soft pillow. In a muffled, whimpering voice laced with sobs and desperate recklessness, he blurted out, almost incomprehensibly, “Okay…”
The room was quiet enough, and Duan Zhao’s focus was entirely on him, so he heard it clearly.
Time seemed to freeze. Ji Zhi’s mind filled with question marks.
Had he said it wrong?
What was the right answer, then…?
As Ji Zhi pondered if there was another response, Duan Zhao’s breath hitched. The storm he’d barely contained in his eyes broke free, sweeping away all reason. He leaned down again, elated, crushing Ji Zhi to him in a fierce embrace, as if to meld him into his bones.
“Xiao Zhi…” He murmured the name over and over like a sigh of relief, hot kisses raining down—from damp eye corners to burning cheeks, finally sealing on those lips that had finally voiced their desire. “I love you…”
Ji Zhi didn’t respond.
Seeing Ji Zhi tremble with restraint, on the verge of breaking, Duan Zhao didn’t press further. He couldn’t tell if Ji Zhi hadn’t heard or simply wouldn’t answer.
After all, that response had already exceeded his expectations.
This time, there were no pauses, no questions—only complete union and possession.
Even in sleep, Ji Zhi dreamed of drifting on a tiny boat, tossed by raging waves.
When he woke, an indescribable soreness flooded his body. The slightest movement brought pain, worse than after an impulsive workout. He wore no pajamas; his skin was marked with red patches.
Ji Zhi tried to sit up for a few seconds before slowly collapsing back.
His gaze fell to the empty side of the bed. Just as he registered Duan Zhao’s absence, a soft sound came from the door. Duan Zhao appeared, carrying food and water.
Memories of the night flooded back with him, heating Ji Zhi’s cheeks.
Fortunately, Duan Zhao said nothing about it. He simply set the food before Ji Zhi, urging him to eat first and rest afterward.
Glancing at the hearty meal, Ji Zhi instinctively checked the time and realized it was already noon.
After eating, once Duan Zhao left the room, Ji Zhi hurriedly messaged Chen Xingwen.
[Ji Zhi: I think I’m gay.]
The scene from last night was still vivid, so he’d accepted his orientation.
[Chen Xingwen: I told you… But what test did you take this time?]
Ji Zhi brushed it off vaguely. Luckily, Chen Xingwen had suspected as much and didn’t pry.
[Chen Xingwen: So you and Duan Zhao are together now?]
[Ji Zhi: I don’t know…]
Chen Xingwen sent a string of question marks.
But Ji Zhi had his reasons.
He knew his orientation had changed, but he couldn’t confirm if he truly liked Duan Zhao. After all, his research had mentioned physical attraction as a separate thing.
[Ji Zhi: I don’t know if I just see him as a fuck buddy…]
Chen Xingwen hadn’t expected Ji Zhi to have gathered so much information. It was only upon hearing Ji Zhi’s words that he remembered this possibility.
Ji Zhi’s emotions were equally complicated. In the past, for one reason or another, he had never been in a relationship. He had liked girls before, it was true, but he had been too young back then. Looking back now, it felt more like a fleeting infatuation—nothing that could ever develop into real love, or lead to being together.
