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Join the ServerJi Xu was awakened by the warm touch on his lips.
His consciousness was still floating between dream and reality, his senses activating before his mind did.
His nose caught the familiar scent of laundry powder mixed with the clean scent of Rong Du, coming from very, very close by—so close he could even feel the other’s breath brushing against his upper lip.
Then, that warm sensation pressed down lightly, like a feather landing on a petal, staying for just a fleeting moment as if testing the waters before pulling back slightly.
Ji Xu’s eyelids twitched, but he didn’t dare to open them.
His heart rate spiked frantically in that exact second.
The thing inside his chest felt as if someone had hit the fast-forward button, thumping wildly against his ribs, making a sound so loud he worried Rong Du might hear it too.
A lingering warmth remained on his lips, soft and dry, carrying a trace of the slight heat unique to the morning.
Ji Xu tightened his fingers beneath the blanket, his nails digging into his palms as he tried desperately to keep his breathing steady, keeping his eyelids shut to avoid revealing any hint that he was awake.
Could someone please tell him what he was supposed to do in this situation?
He had never encountered anything like this before.
The past month of military training had gotten him used to waking up early, with his biological clock set to automatically open his eyes at six-thirty; today, he had actually woken up a bit earlier than usual, and when his mind cleared, Rong Du was still asleep.
He could feel the steady, long breathing of the person beside him, an arm draped over his waist, encircling him in a warm realm.
Thinking he would snooze for a bit longer, he had closed his eyes again.
And then he felt Rong Du turning over, felt his approaching breath, felt the tips of his hair brushing past his forehead as he leaned down, and then his lips—soft, warm, and carrying that dry touch unique to the early morning—lightly pressing against his own.
Ji Xu did not dare to move.
His eyelashes fluttered slightly, his eyes rolling restlessly beneath his closed eyelids, and an uncontrollable pale pink flush crept onto his cheeks, spreading from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears, even staining his neck with a light shade of red.
His breathing rhythm fell into chaos, the disguise of steadiness completely collapsing after his lips were touched, turning short and shallow, the rising and falling of his chest betraying him.
Rong Du saw it.
He had originally been ready to pull away, but the rapidly spreading flush on Ji Xu’s cheeks and his trembling eyelashes made him pause.
He looked down at Ji Xu’s face, which was currently filled with traces of panic—his eyelashes fluttering like a butterfly flapping its wings, his lips slightly parted, his breathing rapid and uneven, with the redness at the tips of his ears extending all the way to the gland on the back of his neck.
Rong Du’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.
He raised his hand, pressing his palm against Ji Xu’s cheek, his thumb gently rubbing against the thin layer of red on his cheekbone.
Then he leaned down and kissed him again.
This time it was not a test, nor was it the kind of kiss that left right after a light touch.
When his lips pressed down, they carried weight and warmth, deeper and firmer than before.
Ji Xu let out a startled “mm,” his eyes finally opening, his pupils still holding the leftover sleepiness and a sudden surge of panic.
His lips were forced open slightly, and Rong Du’s breath barged in overbearingly, occupying his breathing and senses, pressing forcefully against his lips as he kissed him.
Ji Xu’s mind exploded with a loud buzz.
His hands instinctively rose to press against Rong Du’s chest, wanting to push him away, his fingers clutching the fabric of Rong Du’s pajamas and pushing outward with force.
Yet Rong Du’s body remained completely unmoved.
With one hand supporting himself beside Ji Xu’s pillow and the other holding the back of his head, he fixed Ji Xu entirely between himself and the mattress, possessing a strength that far exceeded Ji Xu’s expectations for a beta.
Ji Xu pushed against his chest for a long time, only wrinkling a small patch of the thin cotton pajamas, while Rong Du’s chest pressed down on him like a solid wall.
His mind wandered for a split second—how could a beta be this strong?
Rong Du felt his lack of focus.
Although Ji Xu’s eyes were open, his gaze was unfocused, unaware of what he was thinking, and his lips were loose and unresponsive while being kissed.
Rong Du’s teeth gently and deliberately bit down on Ji Xu’s lower lip—not hard, but enough for the stinging sensation to remind him to return to the present.
Then he pulled back, his breathing slightly heavy, his forehead resting against Ji Xu’s, his nose almost touching his.
He looked into Ji Xu’s eyes, which still held lingering panic and surprise, the spot where his lip had been bitten glowing with a faint red mark.
“Ah Xu,” Rong Du’s voice was low, his breathing not yet fully settled, his warm breath brushing over Ji Xu’s lips, “does this make you feel disgusted?”
Ji Xu blinked his eyes.
The stinging sensation from the bite on his lip remained, tingling as if a small spark of electricity were spreading along the edge of his lips.
He glared at Rong Du, taking quite a while to find his voice, and when he spoke, his throat was a bit hoarse: “…Why did you bite me?”
Rong Du looked at his dazed yet annoyed expression, and the corners of his lips curved upward.
He raised his hand, his thumb wiping over Ji Xu’s lower lip with extreme gentleness, the pad of his finger rubbing past the spot that had been grazed by his teeth, his movement so tender it was like a completely different person from the domineering and forceful kiss just a moment ago.
“It’s red,” he said, a trace of laughter in his voice that he couldn’t control, “does it hurt?”
Ji Xu turned his face away, pulling the blanket up to cover half of his face, exposing only a pair of eyes to glare at Rong Du sullenly.
Rong Du pushed himself up off Ji Xu, got out of bed, and stepped barefoot onto the floor.
After taking two steps, he turned back around to look at the bulged-up mound beneath the blanket: “Sleep a bit longer, I’ll go make breakfast.”
Then he closed the door and left, the sound of his footsteps gradually shifting toward the kitchen.
Ji Xu pulled the blanket over his head, burying his entire self in the darkness, his cheeks burning hot.
Rong Du’s body temperature and scent still lingered inside the blanket, along with the touch of his kissed lips, the stinging pain from being bitten, and the weight and warmth of that person’s chest when pressing down on him.
His fingers touched his own lower lip; sure enough, it was slightly swollen, carrying a subtle sting when pressed.
Ji Xu buried his face into the pillow, letting out a muffled, indistinct whimper.
Not disgusted.
He said to himself in his heart, that kiss was not disgusting at all.
He could even feel his body slowly softening during that kiss, and the sudden sense of loss the moment Rong Du pulled away.
But he didn’t know what this implied, nor did he know what step to take next; his mind felt as if it were stuffed with a tangled mess, unable to sort out a single thread.
He lay in bed for another ten minutes or so, listening to the clattering of pots and pans and the sizzling sound of the oil pan coming from the kitchen, smelling the aroma of fried eggs and steamed buns that gradually drifted over, before finally crawling up sluggishly to head to the bathroom.
While washing up, he looked at himself in the mirror; his lips were indeed still red, with a small patch in the middle of his lower lip darker than the surrounding area—the mark left by that tooth imprint.
He stared at the mirror for a good while, then lowered his head and rubbed his face vigorously twice.
When he dawdled his way over to the dining table, Rong Du had already set out the breakfast.
The steamed buns and fried eggs were steaming hot, accompanied by a small dish of homemade pickled radishes on the side.
Rong Du sat opposite him, having already changed into a shirt for work—a dark blue short-sleeved style, buttoned up to the first button, making his whole presence look sharp and calm, as if that morning kiss had never happened at all.
He handed Ji Xu a pair of chopsticks and placed a fried egg into his bowl.
Ji Xu ate the bun with his head lowered.
He didn’t dare to look at Rong Du the entire time, his gaze falling onto his bowl, onto the pleats of the bun, onto the edge of the egg yolk, refusing to lift his eyes upward.
His eyelashes drooped, his eating movements much slower than usual, chewing a single bite of the bun for a long time before swallowing it.
Rong Du sat opposite him watching, his gaze gradually turning from initial calmness to a bit dim.
Looking at Ji Xu’s constantly lowered eyelashes and dodging expressions, seeing that he hadn’t made eye contact with him even once from start to finish, Rong Du felt as though his heart had been gently wrung by someone—not violently, but with a prolonged, dull ache.
Did Ji Xu dislike him?
Did that kiss make things difficult for him?
Rong Du finished the porridge in his bowl, stood up to clear his dishes into the sink, and then walked back to the dining table.
Ji Xu was still sitting there with his head down, holding half a bun in his hand.
“Ah Xu.”
Rong Du squatted down beside him, looking up at him.
Ji Xu turned his head, finally meeting his gaze.
There was a tender and deep background tone in Rong Du’s eyes, currently covered by a layer of sadness that wasn’t hidden very well, the corners of his eyes faintly red.
Yet his voice remained peaceful, stating every single word clearly: “If it makes things difficult for you, then just forget it.”
Ji Xu froze.
He looked into Rong Du’s eyes, which reflected his own reflection—a tiny one, wrapped in that soft light.
He suddenly felt his throat tighten slightly, his fingers tightening around the remaining half of the bun in his hand, leaving several deep dents in the bun’s skin.
He sniffed, swallowing down the lump stuck in his throat, and then reached out his hand to hold Rong Du’s.
Rong Du’s fingers twitched slightly within his palm.
“Rong Du,” Ji Xu’s voice was a bit soft, but every word was articulated clearly, “are you trying to delete my memory?”
Rong Du’s eyes widened slightly.
Ji Xu pulled his hand, leaning forward, and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.
When his lips touched the skin, they stayed for only a brief second; by the time he pulled back, his own ears were red, but he did not dodge Rong Du’s gaze.
He looked at Rong Du, his chin raised slightly, his eyes holding a touch of feigned composure, stubbornness, and a genuinely accelerating heartbeat: “It’s fine, Rong Du, I forgive you.”
Rong Du remained squatted on the spot, his right hand held by Ji Xu still frozen in mid-air, the touch of that light kiss lingering on his cheek, his lips moving slightly.
He looked at Ji Xu, trying to decipher from those eyes what “forgive” actually meant—was it forgiving his offense from this morning, or forgiving something else?
He wanted to ask, but Ji Xu had already released his hand, lowering his head to continue stuffing that crumpled bun into his mouth, his cheeks bulging as he chewed, the tips of his ears still red.
On his way to work, Rong Du was distracted the entire time; he didn’t even notice when the red light turned on while crossing the street, coming back to his senses only after being pulled back by someone beside him.
He stood at the intersection waiting for the green light to turn back on, Ji Xu’s line “I forgive you,” that kiss on his cheek, and the question he hadn’t had time to ask before leaving revolving repeatedly in his mind.
Did Ji Xu have feelings for him too?
Or was it just that he couldn’t bear to see him sad, so he said something like that?
He rubbed his temples, kicked the curb stone with his shoe heel, took a deep breath of the morning air mixed with dew and car exhaust, and continued walking forward.
After Rong Du left, Ji Xu sat at the dining table for a while longer, finishing the remaining half of the bun and the last mouthful of porridge at the bottom of the cup.
He cleared the dishes into the sink, washed them clean, wiped his hands dry, and looked around this rented apartment where he had lived for more than two months.
The lingering scent of fried eggs remained in the kitchen, the sofa retained the indentations from the two of them sitting there last night, and half a watermelon cut from yesterday sat in the fruit bowl on the coffee table.
Ji Xu stood in the middle of the living room zoning out for a moment, then packed his backpack, locked the door, and went downstairs to the bus stop to take a bus back to school.
There was no one in the dorm room.
Yuan Hanfei had probably gone out; his bed was made neatly, a book was laid open on his desk, and his laptop was closed.
Ji Xu sat back in his chair, pulled out his phone, lit up the screen, and opened the chat window with Rong Du.
Ji Xu stared at that chat box, his thumb hovering over the input area, unsure of what to type.
He thought about it, exited, opened it again, exited again, and finally placed the phone face down on the desk.
He leaned his head back against the back of the chair, staring at the white ceiling light above.
Rong Du’s face surfaced in his mind—the way he squatted in front of the dining table looking up at him, the layer of sadness beneath his eyes, and the tiny tremble in his voice when he asked, “If it makes things difficult for you, then just forget it.”
Ji Xu closed his eyes, his fingers curling slightly.
Rong Du treated him so well; from the moment he dragged his luggage out of the Haicheng Railway Station this summer, Rong Du had given him everything he could possibly give.
A new phone, a tablet, a laptop, an uninterrupted supply of food in the fridge, meals prepared every day when he got home, hands pressing on his legs when he was tired, and that cautious, testing kiss this morning that couldn’t help but deepen.
Thinking of the faint redness at the corners of Rong Du’s eyes when he said “forget it,” a sour and swelling feeling surged up in Ji Xu’s chest.
He couldn’t bring himself to say words of rejection.
When he saw Rong Du sad, all he wanted was to reach out and smooth away that sadness.
Ji Xu opened his eyes, picked up his phone again, and opened the chat box with Rong Du.
He typed a few words and deleted them, typed another line and deleted it again, and finally sent only a small sticker of a little bear hugging a heart.
No text, nothing at all.
However, the heart held by the little bear was red, clutched within its fluffy paws, its eyes curved in a smile.
He set his phone down and took a deep breath.
The sunlight outside the window shone in, warming the pages of the book on his desk slightly.
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