Chapter 11: Midnight Wind, Half-Asleep Lies

After finishing with Lin Chuji, Xie Yan moved the lens away and shot some more empty scenery.

Then he scrolled back to look at the first photo.

When he looked up again, the meteor shower had completely disappeared.

 

In that photo, Lin Chuji was wrapped in the oversized jacket—its size mismatched because he was thinner than Xie Yan, his entire body snugly enveloped inside.

Even the hem that fit Xie Yan perfectly already covered Lin Chuji’s thighs.

He was wearing summer pajama bottoms, so the stretch of exposed leg looked even paler against the black jacket.

He was very quiet in his sleep, eyelashes lowered, lip bead slightly pouting, as if having a pleasant dream—the corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile.

The brilliant meteor shower behind him didn’t steal any of the spotlight.

 

A very beautiful photo.

Probably the best Xie Yan had taken in the past two years.

 

Only then did Xie Yan recall their conversation when they first met, and he realized belatedly: “He doesn’t like people taking photos of him.

I did it without permission.

That’s a bit offensive.”

 

Maybe I should delete it.

His finger hovered over the button, but in the end, he couldn’t bear to.

After all, his original intention was to help him preserve a memory.

It would be a shame to lose it.

 

As he was thinking, he heard Lin Chuji sneeze.

 

Xie Yan snapped out of it, put the camera aside, and gathered the jacket around him.

Even though he knew there probably wouldn’t be a response, he still explained: “I’m carrying you back to bed.

I’ll have to touch you a little.

I’m not taking advantage of you.”

 

Just as he bent down, Lin Chuji naturally reached out and hooked his arms around Xie Yan’s neck, very cooperative.

Xie Yan looked suspiciously at his expression.

“Are you asleep or awake?

If you’re awake, walk yourself.”

“Walk,” Lin Chuji answered.

 

Xie Yan: “……”

Are you pretending to be asleep again?

Are you treating me like a horse?

‘Walk’?

Why don’t you just say ‘giddyup’?

 

Xie Yan didn’t move.

He reached out and peeled Lin Chuji off him, saying softly, “I only carried you because I thought you were asleep.

If you’re awake, don’t fake it.

See?

Now the meteor shower is gone.

Go back to sleep.”

 

Without even opening his eyes, Lin Chuji reached out his hands.

“Carry me.”

 

Xie Yan didn’t want to give in.

He looked down slightly and said flatly, “Lin Chuji, you can’t be like this.

How come you like acting cute so much?

Do you always have to have your way with me?”

 

Lin Chuji’s hands hung in the air.

He didn’t speak and didn’t respond—just stubbornly held the pose.

Like some kind of stubborn standoff.

 

Xie Yan didn’t move either.

He just looked at him.

 

After a minute, Lin Chuji sneezed again.

The sea breeze on the terrace was strong, making the sails rattle wildly, even causing the tip of his nose to turn red.

“Fine.

You win.

I was the one who brought you out here.

If you get sick, you’ll blame me anyway.”

Xie Yan lowered his eyes, hoisted Lin Chuji over his shoulder while still wrapped in the jacket, and carried him back to bed.

 

Once in the warm room, Lin Chuji instinctively reached out to grab the blanket beside him.

 

Xie Yan sighed, helped him take off the jacket, and said helplessly, “At least give me back my clothes.”

 

This guy really does inexplicable things at night.

During the day, he’s perfectly polite, but in the middle of the night, he’s completely unreasonable.

Xie Yan tucked him in, then took out his computer, exported the photos, and started editing.

 

It was nearly four in the morning when he finally fell asleep.

 

Because he stayed up late, he woke up late.

The bright afternoon sun was streaming in when he finally got up with a head of messy hair.

He saw that Xie Wan had given him a missed video call.

 

Xie Yan called back and walked out of the room while holding the video.

He came across Shen Yinan, Shen Yibei, and Lin Chuji playing with building blocks in the small sitting area.

The three were sitting cross-legged on the carpet, speaking in hushed voices so as not to disturb anyone.

 

When did they get so close?

Doesn’t Lin Chuji prefer to be alone?

 

Xie Yan greeted the person on the screen first: “Being so proactive today?

Something on your mind?”

“Mm.

Asking about last night,” Xie Wan said succinctly.

“Last night?

What about it?”

Xie Yan didn’t understand.

“Can you say more than two words?”

 

Shen Yinan waved. “Afternoon, Sister Wan.”

“Hello, Brother Shen,” Xie Wan said with a perfunctory, fake smile, then added, “I mean the dinner.

You two.

Tell me the details.”

 

Lin Chuji looked up at Xie Yan.

He seemed low on energy.

Xie Yan probably didn’t sleepwalk again last night—I don’t remember anything anyway.

It was just as they said—only occasional episodes, not a big problem.

But judging by how late he woke up, sleepwalking must affect sleep quality.

 

Xie Yan was still confused, but he gave plenty of praise in front of Lin Chuji, saving face: “The details are that Xiao Lin made many dishes.

He’s a great cook, very delicious.

All of us ate very happily.

The aftertaste lingers.”

 

The more he praised, the lower Lin Chuji buried his head, pretending to focus on the tower of blocks in front of him.

“‘All of us’?

There were other people?

And then?

After eating, that was it?

Didn’t do anything else?”

Xie Wan’s calm tone carried a hint of impatience.

 

Xie Yan narrowed his eyes.

“You’re acting strange.

What exactly are you trying to ask?”

 

Lin Chuji sneezed.

He didn’t think much of it, rubbed the tip of his nose, and continued carefully extracting a piece from the middle of the block tower.

“Are you catching a cold?

The temperature difference between day and night here is big.

Take care of yourself,” Shen Yinan said.

“It’s nothing,” Lin Chuji said dismissively, staring intently at the half-extracted stick of wood that seemed to be wobbling.

 

Hearing this, Xie Yan’s attention fell on Lin Chuji.

He knows judo, but his body is this weak?

Carrying Lin Chuji out for at most three minutes—he got sick from the wind?

What a princess and the pea.

 

If I hadn’t taken that photo…

If he really gets sick, it’s because of me.

It’s only right and proper that I take good care of him.

“It feels like it should come out—” Lin Chuji muttered to himself, balancing the force, pulling it out little by little.

He had successfully extracted it from the tower and was smugly pulling his hand away when a cup and a sheet of pills landed with a soft clink next to him, along with a full glass of hot water.

Startled, he raised his arm—and the block tower collapsed.

“Drink water.

Take medicine,” Xie Yan reminded him.

 

Lin Chuji looked first at the blocks on the floor, then up at Xie Yan, bewildered.

“Why should I take medicine?”

 

Xie Yan explained patiently: “You were in the wind.

You need to take medicine in case it gets worse.

Right now it’s just sneezing, but later you might get a fever or cough.

That would be troublesome.”

 

Lin Chuji blinked slowly.

He couldn’t recall ever being in the wind.

And sneezing twice—was that really enough to warrant medicine?

He wasn’t that delicate.

But out of politeness, he still took it and said gratefully, “Thank you.

You’re too kind to me.”

“Take it now,” Xie Yan said, pressing the water glass into his hand, uncharacteristically forceful.

 

Feeling uncomfortable under Xie Yan’s stare, Lin Chuji obediently tilted his head back and swallowed the medicine.

“…Taken.”

 

Only then did Xie Yan feel relieved and turn his attention back to his phone.

He saw Xie Wan wearing a mysterious smile on her face, which gave him goosebumps.

He cleared his throat and reminded her, “Would you ever smile at me like that?”

 

Xie Wan immediately withdrew her smile.

“We’re in a cold war.

Why would I smile at you?

Can you give me that guy’s WeChat?”

 

Xie Yan looked at Lin Chuji.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to add her.”

 

Lin Chuji actually didn’t really want to add her, but he couldn’t bring himself to refuse in person, so he nodded.

“Okay.

Send her my contact.”

“Done.

Bye, then.”

Xie Wan hung up promptly.

 

Xie Yan tossed his phone onto the sofa and complained, “Seriously, the older this girl gets, the less polite she becomes.”

 

Shen Yibei, used to this, sighed, “Who’s to blame?

You spoiled her.”

 

Lin Chuji, who had just collapsed the block tower, retreated to sit on the small sofa and watched the Shen brothers build a new tower for a showdown.

 

His phone buzzed with a new friend request.

He added her.

Xie Wan’s username was Zhenzhen.

 

Crab Boss, Zhenzhen—the names and profile pictures seemed to come from SpongeBob.

Lin Chuji had watched that cartoon as a child and still had some fragmented memories.

Wait a minute—Crab Boss’s daughter was named Zhenzhen…

 

Oh my god.

Could Xie Yan have a daughter this old?

Was he actually thirty-eight, not eighteen?

Lin Chuji was very confused about their relationship and couldn’t help asking, “How old did you say your sister is?”

“Thirteen,” Xie Yan said.

 

Lin Chuji asked uncertainly, “Then… how old are you?”

Don’t tell me he had a child as a minor!

 

Not sure why Lin Chuji suddenly brought up age, but with his birthday approaching, Xie Yan would actually turn eighteen when school started.

However, since Lin Chuji had called him “gege” the other night, a strange competitive urge took over, and he changed his birthday on the spot:

“Eighteen.

I turned it this February.”

 

Lin Chuji breathed a sigh of relief.

A five-year gap—no way he could have fathered a child.

 

Meanwhile, Shen Yinan was snickering beside him: “Eighteen.

What a beautiful, youthful, reckless age.”

 

Shen Yibei made a series of “tsk tsk tsk” sounds, wanted to say something but didn’t, maximizing the sarcastic effect.

 

Xie Yan, usually unflappable, felt his cheeks flush for once—how childish, lying about his age.

He rubbed the edge of his phone and turned to ask, “What about you?”

 

Lin Chuji’s birthday was in late summer, still two months shy of eighteen.

But among a group of adults, he didn’t want to be treated like a child, so he hardened his heart and aged himself up significantly: “I turned eighteen last August.”

 

The smile on Xie Yan’s face vanished instantly, turning dark.

Great.

‘Gege’ suddenly becomes ‘little brother.’

Fine.

Both born in August, but he’s a full year older than me.

A thorough loss.

 

Shen Yinan laughed and patted his shoulder, speaking in a sly, sarcastic tone: “Still, you were born too late, little brother.”

 

Shen Yibei, leveraging his twin advantage, joined the fray: “Men shouldn’t say ‘little.’

Oh wait, you just turned eighteen, so you don’t qualify as a man yet.”

 

Xie Yan, still a minor: “……”

Really.

I should just tie these two up and throw them into the sea.

I wanted to do that yesterday.

“By the way, did you catch the meteor shower last night?

I heard it wasn’t until three in the morning.

You definitely waited, right?”

Shen Yinan knew this brother well—seemingly rough on the outside but with a secret romantic streak in a corner of his heart.

 

Still stuck on the previous topic, Xie Yan said bluntly, “I did.

I took photos.

I don’t want to share them with you.”

 

Hearing this, Shen Yibei shamelessly switched sides instantly: “Bro, you are my real brother.

Send them to me.

I want to post them on my moments to show off.”

 

Lin Chuji also wanted them.

He hadn’t been able to stay awake last night and had missed not just making a wish but seeing anything at all.

He just looked at Xie Yan with hopeful eyes, hesitating to speak.

 

Feeling his gaze, Xie Yan looked over and clearly read the subtext: “With that expression on your face, you want them?”

 

Lin Chuji hesitated for a few seconds, then honestly nodded.

“Yes.

Can you send them to me?”

“Sure.”

Xie Yan scrolled through the many photos on his screen, wondering whether to include the one with Lin Chuji in it.

“He can have them, but I can’t!”

Shen Yinan clutched his chest.

“You’ve really changed!”

 

Shen Yibei clicked his tongue twice and spat out scornfully, “Heartless bastard.

Fine, I’ll find some online.

There are always people better than you.”

 

Xie Yan scrolled through his album and said casually, “No.

Mine are the best.”

 

Hearing him so confident made Lin Chuji even more eager to see how beautiful they were.

He waited agonizingly while having to exchange a few pleasantries with Xie Wan, whom he had just added.

Distracted, he looked down and sent a greeting message.

[lark]: Hello, little sister.

My name is Lin Chuji.

[lark]: I’m not good at conversation.

Forgive me.

[Zhenzhen]: I want to give you a comprehensive introduction to Xie Yan.

[Zhenzhen]: He’s handsome, tall and strong, has excellent grades, great social skills, many talents, and a meticulous mind.

He’s a top-tier man you rarely see once in a century.

 

Lin Chuji: “……”

He felt like he was encountering something called a generation gap.

 

He couldn’t imagine that emotionless face typing these words.

If you’ve been kidnapped by Xie Yan, say something.

[Zhenzhen]: Next, I will explain each branch in detail to ensure you can accurately and completely understand Xie Yan and possess a precise user manual for him.

[lark]: No need.

Really no need.

 

Lin Chuji was a bit overwhelmed.

They’re definitely siblings.

This is like an amplified online version of Xie Yan.

[Zhenzhen]: Handsome, tall and strong—I don’t need to say more.

His facial features should satisfy over 99% of the general public’s aesthetic.

[Zhenzhen]: Here are twenty photos I carefully selected that I think look good of him.

Take a look.

 

The next second, Lin Chuji received a flood of photos of Xie Yan.

Playing basketball, cooking, doing dishes, sewing clothes, cleaning windows, doing homework—all kinds of scenes, but almost all were candid shots.

 

To be captured so well in candids, he really did have good bone structure.

But what did this have to do with him!

 

Lin Chuji stared at the chat, feeling very strange.

“I think your sister… really admires you.”

 

Xie Yan was selecting photos in his album, checking them one by one, and said casually, “I know.

She just has a tough mouth.”

 

Lin Chuji: “……”

This isn’t just a tough mouth; it’s iron pincers.

And why does she need to show off her brother to a random person like me behind his back?

 

Xie Wan was still going berserk on the other side.

[Zhenzhen]: Great social skills, excellent grades—he’s never dropped out of the top three in his grade since elementary school.

He’s won many competition gold medals and has helped multiple struggling bottom students achieve excellent results.

To see the bigger picture from the small, this shows he has the ability and sense of responsibility to support a family.

 

Lin Chuji: “……”

With Xie Yan’s grades, this isn’t admiration—it’s pure delusion.

[lark]: You don’t need to introduce him to me anymore.

I know.

He’s great.

He’s excellent.

[Zhenzhen]: Please take another look at him.

[Zhenzhen]: Please reconsider.

[Zhenzhen]: I’m sorry for bothering you.

[Zhenzhen]: What other good qualities do you like?

I’ll try to make up some more.

 

Lin Chuji really didn’t know what to reply.

He sighed slightly and handed the chat log to Xie Yan, his expression serious.

“How does your sister have such a big gap between how she talks and how she types?

She’s so explosive with words.

I don’t understand what she means.

Do you get it?”

 

Distracted, Xie Yan’s finger moved, and he accidentally sent the photo of Lin Chuji.

He thought to himself, With how aloof Xie Wan usually is toward everyone, it’s hard to imagine her furiously typing like that.

“Let me see.”

Xie Yan took Lin Chuji’s phone and quickly scrolled through the chat.

The more he read, the more speechless his expression became.

 

Bear with it.

Bear with it.

Take a step back and see the wide ocean.

She’s just a kid who reads too much BL manga.

Don’t hold it against her. It’s fine.

Being an older brother means learning to be tolerant.

 

No.

I really can’t tolerate this.

Besides, Lin Chuji was already gay.

To have this kind of matchmaking-style introduction shoved in his face—what was he supposed to think?

 

Xie Yan pressed down on the chat and sent a voice message directly to Xie Wan: “Can you stop?

Are you crazy, harassing him like this?

I’ll tell him to delete you.

Stop acting insane.”

“Forget it.

No need to delete her,” Lin Chuji said, taking back his phone good-naturedly.

 

As all this chaos unfolded, Shen Yinan leaned over to look at the chat and said in shock, “Holy crap, your sister takes candids of you every day?

That’s kind of perverted.”

 

Xie Yan choked.

He thought about how he had carried Lin Chuji out specifically to take photos last night and asked uncertainly, “Is that perverted?

She just… casually took a few shots.

Isn’t it about recording our wonderful lives?

At least the photos are… pretty decent, right.”

 

As he spoke, the unconscious moments of skin-to-skin contact from the night before—those deliberately ignored details—came flooding back to his mind.

He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time.

It was just that Lin Chuji had been so well-behaved—not making a sound, not resisting, letting himself be arranged, placed in whatever position he wanted.

 

If he had harbored even a hint of personal desire, then it would indeed seem inappropriately perverted.

 

Xie Yan’s previously magnanimous mood became subtly uncomfortable.

“What do you think?”

 

Lin Chuji opened the photo.

While it was loading, he recalled the fervor of Xie Wan’s earlier sales pitch and said quietly, “Now that I think about it… maybe just a little.”

 

Xie Yan felt like he’d been struck right in the heart.

Then his own actions were perverted to the power of a square.

 

He silently took his phone back and opened the chat.

It contained over a dozen photos of the meteor shower that he had just carefully selected to send to Lin Chuji.

The last one was the candid he was most proud of.

And at that moment, it had become damning evidence in court.

 

Withdraw it.

Withdraw it quickly.

 

Xie Yan looked at the prompt and fell silent.

 

Damn it.

Two minutes have passed.

Can’t withdraw it anymore.

 

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