Chapter 40: Kiss

The weekend.

The moment he met up with Lin Shuhuai at the hospital entrance, Yu Xi quickly detected that something was slightly off with the older youth’s state.

Yet, on the surface, Lin Shuhuai carried his usual faint smile, conversational and calm, making it seem almost like a trick of the mind.

It wasn’t until Lin Shuhuai emerged from the consultation room, turning completely silent with an exhaustion he couldn’t quite mask and looking thoroughly distracted, that Yu Xi couldn’t help but ask out of genuine concern, “Did something happen?”

Lin Shuhuai remained silent for a long duration. Squeezing out a smile that looked incredibly strained, he confessed in a low voice, “My parents called me yesterday. They said some… very unpleasant things.”

He didn’t elaborate, and Yu Xi didn’t dare press for details, fearing it would only worsen Lin Shuhuai’s emotional state. But recalling the scars Lin Shuhuai had carried from his past, it wasn’t hard to deduce what those overbearing parents might have said.

Noticing that Lin Shuhuai’s hand was clenched into a fist, trembling uncontrollably from sheer force, Yu Xi grew anxious that he might hurt himself. He hurriedly reached over to pry those fingers apart. Sure enough, the palm was already deeply indented with purplish-red crescent marks. Yu Xi quickly began to rub the skin gently to soothe it.

“That phone call left me in a very bad state. I considered reaching out to you, but I was terrified of disturbing you, so I endured it on my own.” Lin Shuhuai exhaled a long breath, clasping Yu Xi’s hands back. “The moment I saw you today, I felt immensely better.”

Yu Xi’s tone turned very soft. “What did the doctor say?”

“He said it’s best for me to stay as far away from them as possible, or engage in other activities to redirect my focus and maintain a pleasant frame of mind.” Lin Shuhuai paused, a hint of bitterness coloring his smile. “The doctor asked if there was anything I enjoyed doing. I thought about it for a long time, but to my surprise, I couldn’t come up with a single thing. Having lived for twenty-five years, it feels as though my entire life has only revolved around the piano… As for other things, though I’ve tried them, none felt joyful or interesting.”

The more Yu Xi listened, the more distressed he became, his grip on Lin Shuhuai’s hands tightening slightly.

“But then I remembered.” Lin Shuhuai’s inflection suddenly swept upward. Lifting his intertwined hands with Yu Xi’s, he pressed his forehead against them. “I remembered that every time I’m with you, time flies by incredibly fast. I don’t dwell on anything else, I sleep wonderfully, and I don’t have nightmares anymore… Throughout the entire night yesterday, it was only the thought of seeing you today that kept me grounded.”

Beholding the suspicious shimmer of tears in Lin Shuhuai’s eyes, Yu Xi’s chest vibrated with emotion.

“Xiao Xi, you’ve always been saving me.”

Lin Shuhuai spoke with absolute sincerity.

Following that heart-baring conversation, Yu Xi entirely forgot about his dinner plans with Zhang Xingkuo that evening, following Lin Shuhuai back to his residence in a complete haze.

It was only after he finished the French cuisine Lin Shuhuai had prepared and sat on the sofa watching a horror-comedy film with him that a faint sensation of having overlooked something critical struck him, causing his mind to wander for a few minutes.

When a jump-scare ghost face suddenly ambushed the screen, Lin Shuhuai glanced over to check Yu Xi’s reaction. Seeing that the youth hadn’t even blinked, he couldn’t help but lose his smile. “Is this one not good?”

“Huh? It’s decent, but the plot is a bit dull,” Yu Xi answered earnestly once he snapped out of his thoughts.

Lin Shuhuai pressed, “Should we switch to a Chinese horror film?”

“I’m fine with anything.”

Yu Xi went along with Lin Shuhuai’s preferences, having long grown accustomed to his peculiar quirk.

It wasn’t that Lin Shuhuai genuinely enjoyed horror movies; rather, he relished watching other people’s terrified reactions—more precisely, Yu Xi’s reactions.

When they were children, he would play ominous melodies on the piano to frighten the younger kids. If they burst into tears, he would find it tedious. Only someone like Yu Xi, who remained completely unfazed, could pique his interest and drive him to keep attempting new ways to elicit a reaction.

Though it was a slightly wicked sense of amusement, it was likely Lin Shuhuai’s sole hobby. Thus, Yu Xi indulged him, accompanying him through countless horror films and animations.

Browsing through his bookmarked playlist, Lin Shuhuai asked, “Xiao Xi, which type do you find more frightening?”

“The one we watched last time was the scariest…”

When Lin Shuhuai inquired why, Yu Xi knitted his brows and explained with utmost gravity that the protagonist in that film was trapped in an exam hall forever. No matter how hard they tried, they could never score a perfect one hundred. Answering a single question incorrectly triggered a time loop, with the difficulty escalating each time alongside various ghosts materializing to disrupt them. It was genuinely terrifying.

Lin Shuhuai erupted into laughter upon hearing this, laughing so heartily that he couldn’t maintain his posture, collapsing sideways against Yu Xi.

Yu Xi couldn’t comprehend where the punchline lay, gazing helplessly at the man whose tears were practically leaking from laughter against his shoulder. Still, seeing Lin Shuhuai this joyful was a wonderful thing, and he couldn’t resist letting the corners of his own lips tilt upward.

“Xiao Xi, how can you be this adorable?” Lin Shuhuai cradled Yu Xi’s chin, prompting the youth to look down at him.

By the time he finished laughing and spoke again, his voice had dropped into a raspy register. His voice originally possessed the quality of a French melody played on a piano—grand and inherently romantic. Now that it was husky, it carried an undeniable trace of sensuality. His naturally pale complexion had regained some color, and his long, fox-like eyes tilted upward as he looked up, bearing an indescribable allure, like a vortex capable of drawing someone entirely inside.

Yu Xi’s expression remained clueless. Blinking his thick, long lashes, a sudden wave of panic hit his heart. Feeling flustered, he averted his gaze and gently pushed Lin Shuhuai back, changing the subject: “Where did my phone go?”

“Ah.” Lin Shuhuai availed himself of the momentum to lean half-propped against the sofa. “I noticed your battery was running low, so I took it over to charge for a bit.”

Yu Xi went to retrieve it, and upon checking the screen, the critical matter he had forgotten finally flashed into his mind.

He hurriedly messaged Zhang Xingkuo back. Before his apology could even leave his mouth, a call dialed in from the other end.

The moment the call connected, Zhang Xingkuo’s anxious, panicked voice broke through: “Xiao Xi! Are you alright?”

“I—I’m fine. I’m so sorry, I…”

“It’s a relief that you’re alright, you scared the life out of me.” Only then did Zhang Xingkuo transition into a aggrieved, complaining tone. “I called you so many times this afternoon and you didn’t pick up once. I thought something had happened to you! I asked everyone we know, and they all said they hadn’t seen you.”

With a sudden realization, Zhang Xingkuo deduced, “Are you with him right now?”

Yu Xi let out a small, apologetic murmur of affirmation. His fingers unconsciously toyed with the buttons of his shirt, at a loss for how to explain himself as he stammered.

Immediately after, he heard Zhang Xingkuo snap resentfully, “I knew it! It had to be some other dog bastard kidnapping you!”

Yu Xi instinctively shielded the microphone of his phone, lowering his voice significantly: “An emergency came up… It wasn’t Brother Shuhuai’s fault. I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you next time, okay?”

“Really? Then you have to accompany me to watch that new romance movie that just hit the theaters.” Zhang Xingkuo’s tone softened considerably in an instant. “And we have to sit in the couple’s seats and order the couple’s combo meal.”

Since he was the one at fault to begin with, Yu Xi could only offer his full compliance.

Just like that, Zhang Xingkuo was pacified, hanging up the phone thoroughly satisfied.

Yu Xi breathed a sigh of relief, then replied to the other messages of concern sent by his friends, assuring them he wasn’t missing before heading back to the living room with his phone to accompany Lin Shuhuai.

Lin Shuhuai was still reclining in the same spot, his gaze trailing over as if he had long since guessed the identity: “Was it Xingkuo?”

Yu Xi nodded. “I forgot that I was supposed to have dinner with him tonight.”

“Is that so…” Lin Shuhuai merely offered that single phrase, showing no desire to delve further into the topic as he pivoted back to ask if the selected movie was acceptable.

The newly chosen film proved to be far more immersive than the previous one, and the narrative was significantly more engaging. Yu Xi watched for a while, but as the night deepened, his biological clock asserted itself. He couldn’t resist the creeping drowsiness, his head nodding down in rhythmic jolts like a little chicken pecking at grain.

Sharing the same blanket with Lin Shuhuai while sitting flush against one another felt exceptionally warm. His vision grew increasingly blurred, and the audio of the movie drifted further and further away…

Yet, even at his limit of exhaustion, he remembered his intent to accompany Lin Shuhuai until the end. Struggling to maintain his final thread of consciousness, he vaguely felt an arm wrap around his back, drawing him into a warm embrace, while the blanket that had slid down was pulled back securely over his shoulders.

He then caught the sound of Lin Shuhuai chuckling soundlessly, the exhale brushing against the skin near his forehead, tickling slightly.

He wished to wake up and tell Lin Shuhuai that he hadn’t intended to be lazy, but he ultimately lost the battle against sleep.

…

His slumber wasn’t deep, and it didn’t take long before the familiar ringtone of his phone roused him.

Even though the ringing cut off abruptly after a mere second, it still managed to call back a fraction of his consciousness, though he remained reluctant to open his eyes just yet, lingering in a dazed, half-awake state.

“Is something the matter?”

He heard Lin Shuhuai—who was cradling him—speak in an incredibly hushed tone, evidently answering the call on his behalf.

Though it wasn’t on speakerphone, due to their proximity, he could faintly discern Gu Chuanzhou’s voice echoing from the receiver.

“Why are you the one answering his phone? Where is Xi Xi?”

Lin Shuhuai let out a soft, ambiguous chuckle. “Naturally, it’s because he is with me right now.”

Gu Chuanzhou paused briefly. “Where is he? Put him on the phone.”

“Mhm… He fell asleep right beside me, so he can’t answer. Surely you wouldn’t have the heart to make me wake him up, would you?”

Gu Chuanzhou didn’t offer a reply; only the sound of his breathing grew increasingly heavy.

Lin Shuhuai remarked casually, “Let’s leave it at that. I’m hanging up, it wouldn’t be good to disturb Xiao Xi.”

Swiftly and cleanly, Lin Shuhuai disconnected the call.

Yu Xi’s ears settled back into silence, and even the original audio of the movie was no longer audible. He then felt a hand gently patting his back in a soothing rhythm.

Drowsiness threatened to pull him under once more. Just as Yu Xi was about to indulge himself and plunge back into a deep sleep within Lin Shuhuai’s embrace, the cheek facing outward was suddenly brushed by something incredibly gentle.

Slightly cool, soft… and oddly familiar.

…Right, the texture felt identical to the cheek-kiss greeting he had received when he reunited with Lin Shuhuai.

Why give another one out of nowhere?

Perplexed, Yu Xi’s fingertips twitched ever so slightly.

To his absolute bewilderment, a third and a fourth “greeting” of this nature descended… landing on the tip of his nose, the corner of his eye, his forehead… It could no longer be classified as a mere cheek-kiss; these were distinctly kisses.

Each time one descended, it was executed with immense care and gentleness, carrying a trace of treasured, lingering affection.

Just as Yu Xi forced himself to rationalize this as a goodnight kiss bestowed by an older brother figure, the very next second, he felt his collar being gently tugged aside, followed by a sudden rush of coolness—Lin Shuhuai had pressed a kiss onto his collarbone.

In an instant, Yu Xi’s entire body turned rigid, his mind descending into absolute chaos as he could no longer find a way to convince himself otherwise.

Was a kiss like this truly permissible between friends?