Chapter 13: Operation: Stay Away From Him (Failed)

Lin Chuji told him to hurry and find a partner.

When he spoke, he was close to Xie Yan’s ear.

Because his voice was very soft, it carried a hint of warmth that brushed against his earlobe, making it ticklish.

 

Xie Yan straightened up and pulled back, his gaze falling directly into Lin Chuji’s eyes.

His eyes were very clean, very beautiful—so clear and unblemished that they made their owner seem also pure of heart, without desire or longing.

 

But in reality, it was the opposite.

Since there wasn’t much time left, had Lin Chuji now progressed from hinting to being explicit?

 

Xie Yan smiled and refused without a trace: “Don’t want to.

I’m not looking before twenty.”

 

Lin Chuji asked curiously, “Why specifically twenty?

Is there a reason?”

 

Xie Yan thought, How the hell would I know?

I just pushed it back two years to cut off any improper thoughts you might have.

But to save face, he made up an excuse: “Because the master’s predictions aren’t accurate, so I have to do the opposite.”

 

The fortune teller swayed his fan, looking at them with a smile. “Alright, I’m not accurate.

Then I’ll spout some nonsense for your friend too.”

“Hurry, we want to hear it too,” Shen Yinan said, slapping the table curiously, gathering back the tourists who had been about to disperse.

 

Lin Chuji’s entire body screamed “stay away,” but Xie Yan used his strength to push him down onto a stool, where he was stuck.

“Listen.

You might get something unexpected,” Xie Yan said lazily.

 

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Lin Chuji felt like he was undergoing ten tortures.

The past two days with Xie Yan had been so harmonious that he had momentarily forgotten that this person was a social terrorist who specialized in amusing himself by making socially anxious people panic.

 

Lin Chuji reluctantly handed over his birth date, hiding it as best he could, and said vaguely, “Here.”

 

The fortune teller looked at the birth date, then at him, then at Xie Yan.

He went back and forth several times before finally saying just two words: “Same as above.”

 

Lin Chuji was bewildered.

“Huh?”

 

Xie Yan considered it for a moment, then still found it amusing.

“You’re not going to say that his destined love is also on this trip, are you?”

 

The fortune teller nodded in agreement.

“Yes.

You have great intuition.”

 

Lin Chuji: “……”

Definitely a fraud.

And one too lazy to even make up something different.

The only people he had interacted with significantly on this trip were three guys.

The only girl he had spoken to was Xie Wan, through a screen.

No way!

Nonsense!

 

But he was too embarrassed to say this to the fortune teller’s face.

He just gave a slight pout of his lips to show disdain.

 

Xie Yan, however, had a spirit of getting to the bottom of things.

He asked in a serious tone, “Master, your fortune-telling content is quite up-to-date.

Do you have some hobbies on the side, like reading BL novels or comics?

So you like to ship couples, just like my sister?”

 

A few young tourists nearby couldn’t hold back their laughter.

“What is BL?

What is a ship?”

The fortune teller’s expression was calm.

“Fake,” Xie Yan explained.

“It’s a type of derivative work about two men who love each other to death.

And you, when you see them together, can’t help but smile, right?”

 

The master’s expression cracked.

“…Never read it.

Don’t understand it.

Not familiar.”

 

The surrounding crowd burst into laughter again, thoroughly enjoying the show.

Some girls even boldly teased, “Yes, exactly—the two of you should be paired together.

You look so good together.”

 

Only Lin Chuji looked up in shock.

Xie Yan knows so much about this.

Would a straight as steel straight guy really read that kind of stuff?

 

His repeated insistence that he had no feelings for him, that he didn’t want to date—now it all seemed like a cover-up.

Then he recalled how Xie Wan’s comprehensive matchmaking-style introduction, between the lines, seemed to be trying to find him a little sister-in-law.

Only now did he belatedly understand that inexplicable feeling of weirdness he had sensed at the time.

 

No one knows a brother like his sister.

Turns out my first impression was right.

Xie Yan is an out-and-out gay man.

 

Lin Chuji looked at his new lock screen of the meteor shower photo, thought about how Xie Yan had carried him to the terrace, and felt very complicated inside.

I accidentally sent the wrong signal, and he received it.

“My turn, my turn, Master.

Here are my brother’s and my birth dates,” Shen Yibei said impatiently, leaning in.

Curious, he asked, “We have the same birthday and the same birth time.

Will our fates be identical copy-pastes too?”

“Does that mean you can charge for just one fortune for twins?

Master, I’m only paying for two total.”

Xie Yan scanned the QR code to pay, cutting the price in half.

 

Lin Chuji stood up to give them his seat and stood aside, wanting to say something but holding back.

 

Xie Yan noticed his lock screen and said casually, “You like that photo that much?

Showing it off to everyone on your Moments and even changing your lock screen?”

“I’m not showing it off to everyone,” Lin Chuji said quietly.

 

Xie Yan opened his own feed and showed Lin Chuji the flood of nearly identical comments he could see, saying bluntly, “You replied to every single person, saying ‘Xie Yan took it.’

Isn’t that showing off?”

 

Lin Chuji was stunned.

 

He hadn’t realized at the time that everyone who commented was also a friend of Xie Yan’s, who could see everything just as clearly.

He hadn’t thought anything of it when replying, but having the actual person discover it and confront him was too humiliating.

 

Moreover, just a moment ago, he had joked with Xie Yan to hurry up and find a partner.

His own actions really made him look like he admired Xie Yan.

 

His cheeks instantly turned crimson.

Wait.

Xie Yan wouldn’t think I have a crush on him, would he?

 

No, worse than a crush.

He might think they were in a mutual, reciprocated love.

 

Lin Chuji looked up in a panic, stammering, “No, it’s not showing off.

They asked, so I answered.”

 

Xie Yan nodded, noncommittal.

Playing hard to get.

Lin Chuji’s old trick.

 

Seeing his absent-minded look, Lin Chuji could tell he didn’t believe him.

So he lowered his eyes, quickly changed his lock screen, opened his Moments, hesitated for two seconds, then hardened his heart and deleted the post to distance himself.

Then he looked up and whispered again, “See?

No more showing off.”

 

Xie Yan: “……”

That’s way too obvious an attempt to cover up, Lin Chuji.

Haven’t you learned the idiom ‘three hundred taels of silver buried here’?

 

Xie Yan smiled.

“It’s fine.

If you like it, post it.”

 

Lin Chuji thought, I wouldn’t dare post it again.

What if I get misunderstood for no reason again?

 

The sea breeze tousled both their hair and also ruffled the thoughts of the young men.

Neither spoke again, each lost in their own thoughts.

 

Shen Yinan finished his fortune, stood up, and saw the strange expressions on the two of them.

Curious, he asked, “What’s up with you two?

So quiet.

Thinking about the possibility of love?”

 

Lin Chuji turned his head away without a sound, pretending to watch seagulls in the distance.

“I’m sleeping in your room tonight,” Xie Yan said.

 

Lin Chuji looked up at him and slowly realized: He’s avoiding suspicion.

Good.

Don’t come back tomorrow night either.

Then we go our separate ways.

“Why?

Have you developed a self-harming urge to sleep on the sofa?”

Shen Yibei was confused.

“Yeah.

My neck has been bothering me the last couple of days.

I can’t sleep on a soft bed.”

Xie Yan, as always, saved face for others.

 

Lin Chuji let out a soft snort, turned, and started walking back. “Fine.

I’ll lock the door tonight to keep bad people out.”

 

He walked quickly and soon put some distance between himself and the three behind him.

 

Shen Yibei considered the unusual behavior of these two.

“This scene… it’s like those annoying couples who have a fight, and then one of them stays at a friend’s house and curses their partner three hundred times, only to be all sweet and reconciled the next day.

You know, that kind of crap.”

 

Shen Yinan refreshed his Moments and said with a sigh, “He even deleted the post…

Are you two in some kind of newfangled relationship?

Like skipping the confession and dating and fast-forwarding straight to the breakup?”

 

Xie Yan: “……”

“No, wait.

That master just said some random stuff.

He said you two are a perfect match, didn’t he?

What’s there to be unhappy about?”

Shen Yibei didn’t get it.

“People in love are very petty.

Maybe they both think the other has someone else,” Shen Yinan analyzed knowledgeably.

“But this awkwardness will only last a little while.

They’ll definitely make up tomorrow.

So even though I’m in Boss Xie’s brother squad, I won’t say anything inappropriate about Lin.”

 

Xie Yan stared at them for five seconds and said only one word: “Scram.”

 

***

 

Without Xie Yan in the room, Lin Chuji was all alone, very relaxed and comfortable.

He packed early for the next day’s camping on the island, took a nice bath, listened to music, and drifted off to sleep.

 

If only he hadn’t forgotten to lock the door.

Everything would have been perfect.

 

In the morning, he was woken by a warm hand patting him.

A real pat—palm lightly tapping his cheek with a soft sound, accompanied by a baffling sentence: “I’ve been gone just one day.

Did you have to go this far?”

 

The voice was also very familiar, like Xie Yan’s.

 

Lin Chuji’s eyes snapped open.

In front of him was an enlarged face—sharp features, defined jawline.

He must have just washed up—the short hair on his forehead was still dripping water, wet.

As he spoke, a drop fell cleanly and landed on Lin Chuji’s brow bone, very cold.

“What are you doing?”

Lin Chuji, with a rare touch of morning grumpiness, his voice low and softer.

He propped himself up halfway and tried to push him away, but couldn’t.

 

Xie Yan slowly straightened up and stated a fact: “Lin Chuji, you’re sleeping in my bed.

I’m gone one night, and you’ve taken over my nest?”

 

Lin Chuji was dazed.

He let out a confused “huh.”

 

Impossible.

This is an illusion.

I’m still dreaming.

 

He lay back down and buried his face in the blanket, thinking, How could such a terrible thing happen?

And why is Xie Yan still here?

He must be haunting me so much that he’s even invaded my dreams.

 

But the tip of his nose touched the duvet, which carried a faint scent of citrus.

Very familiar, but definitely not from his own body.

 

It was more like…

He recalled the first time they met, the scent when Xie Yan passed by him.

Just like this.

 

Lin Chuji jolted fully awake, sprang up, and looked around.

He was indeed lying in the bed by the window.

He scrambled out of the duvet, got tangled, nearly tripped, and Xie Yan had to steady him.

“Awake?”

Xie Yan smiled.

“I…

I must have gone to the bathroom in the middle of the night and gotten into the wrong bed.”

Lin Chuji closed his eyes, unable to look at anyone, wanting to die.

 

Now Xie Yan is going to misunderstand me even more.

How can I explain this?

I can’t.

 

Xie Yan didn’t speak, just looked at him with an inquisitive expression.

 

Lin Chuji silently recited to himself, Forget it.

I won’t explain.

We’re going back to our own homes tomorrow anyway.

 

Xie Yan let go of him and smiled.

“It’s fine.

Wrong bed.

Very normal.”

 

Lin Chuji was silent for two seconds, then squeezed out from between his teeth: “I can tell you’re being sarcastic.”

 

Xie Yan bent down to pick up a change of clean clothes, then stopped.

“This time, really not.

I don’t think you’re so perverted that you even like my blanket this much.”

“…………”

Lin Chuji was choked.

Not wanting to dwell on this matter, he changed the subject. “I…

I’m going solo today.

We’ll meet on the island tonight.”

 

Xie Yan didn’t say anything else, just nodded.

“Alright.”

 

Lin Chuji glanced at him suspiciously, then said, trying to cover up, “Me sleeping in your bed is absolutely not because it’s a place you slept.

Don’t overthink it.”

“If you hadn’t explained, I really wouldn’t have thought that,” Xie Yan said, turning to look at him with a hint of a smile.

“But the more you explain, the more I feel like you’re trying to say something.”

 

Lin Chuji: .

 

I want to die aaaaagggggh.

Can he go back early?

 

Not knowing what else to say, he grabbed his change of clothes, stumbled out of bed, slipped on his sandals, and sprinted to the bathroom, closing the door to block out everything.

 

When he came back out, Xie Yan was already gone, very considerately not embarrassing him further.

“He’s actually a pretty good person,” Lin Chuji muttered.

 

He opened the e-book version of the social phobia guide.

It was called a guide, but compared to the other two substantial e-books, it was only two pages long.

It was a freebie from the seller, saying it was carefully curated key points.

Now he flipped to the end and saw the line marked in red.

“If you, as a social phobic, have a misunderstanding with someone and are too shy to explain, you can use a small gift to convey your message.

For example, a greeting card, a souvenir, etc.

Write what you want to say on paper as a substitute for direct communication.”

 

Lin Chuji read it twice and praised, “That makes so much sense.

This guide is amazing!”

 

Just before leaving, he had also wanted to give gifts to all the new friends he had met these past few days—a memento, since they would never see each other again.

In the afternoon, he walked a big circle around the island, bought a bunch of things, wrote names and blessings on each, planning to sneak them into their suitcases before leaving tomorrow.

 

After finishing all that, night fell, and the sky was completely dark.

Lin Chuji shouldered his camping gear and went to the island to meet up with the group.

They had set up a grill—the charcoal was burning red, smoke drifting everywhere, the small table a mess.

It looked like they were almost done.

 

Xie Yan had his sleeves rolled up, half-squatting in front of the grill, expertly turning skewers.

A thin layer of sweat coated his muscular forearms.

He looked up at the newcomer, picked two skewers that looked particularly appetizing, and handed them over.

“Try them.”

 

Lin Chuji blinked slowly and quickly took them.

“Thank you.”

 

Both were extremely polite.

Nervous, awkward, and distant.

 

Shen Yinan, observing from the side, commented, “Now we’re in the delicate post-fight contact phase.”

 

Shen Yibei helped set up Lin Chuji’s tent, still unable to read the situation.

“We still don’t know why they went their separate ways after getting their fortunes told yesterday.”

“Who can understand that?

It’s probably one of those straight-guy mysteries,” Shen Yinan said as he helped prop up the poles and placed Lin Chuji’s tent next to Xie Yan’s.

 

Lin Chuji turned around, swallowed the meat, and mumbled, “No need to help.

I’ll do it myself in a bit.”

 

Xie Yan glanced up and said flatly, “Just eat.”

 

Lin Chuji squatted on a small campstool, quietly eating his skewers.

So fragrant, so tender, so delicious.

If I had known, I wouldn’t have avoided Xie Yan and come earlier.

He doesn’t seem to be making a big deal out of it anyway.

I was just being too sensitive.

“Want more?

These are the last few.

You came late—they ate them all,” Xie Yan said, somehow having wandered back.

 

His mind was on strange things, and Lin Chuji was so startled he nearly dropped his skewer.

He acted reserved: “…No thanks.

I ate something else this afternoon.”

 

Xie Yan saw right through him and curled his lips.

“If you don’t eat, then the idle people have to sing a song for entertainment.

That’s what we agreed earlier.”

 

A guy passing by heard this and turned around.

“Yeah, do you want to sing?

I’ll get the mic.”

 

Lin Chuji’s eyes were full of terror.

Why do you need to bring a mic camping?

Are you trying to kill me?!

“No, I won’t sing.”

Lin Chuji tugged at the hem of Xie Yan’s shirt and begged softly, “Don’t make this hard for me.”

 

Xie Yan bent his waist slightly, looked down at his panicked expression, and bluntly called him out: “I think you’re pretty amazing.

You get so shy during the day, but at night you’re so bold—always climbing into my bed, either lying down or hugging.”

 

Lin Chuji tilted his head back, trying hard to remember.

Hugging—that was the time with the fake alcohol, right?

Lying down—when was that?

Yesterday?

But Xie Yan wasn’t even in the room.

 

But it was true that he had done all those things.

He couldn’t deny it.

He lowered his head again, guiltily.

“Sorry for offending you.

It won’t happen again.

Anyway… anyway, we’re separating tomorrow.

Tonight we’re in tents.

I won’t wander.”

 

Xie Yan looked at his pitiful expression—the tip of his nose red from the wind, his eyes bright from the starlight, his long eyelashes casting cute shadows in the moonlight.

If he were a girl, he’d probably be Xie Yan’s type.

 

He shoved the remaining skewers into Lin Chuji’s hands and smiled.

“That’s a serious vow.

What if you do it again?”

 

Lin Chuji nearly pounded his chest, swearing solemnly: “Impossible.

Otherwise, I’ll take your last name.”

 

Xie Yan laughed again, watching Lin Chuji’s hair get messed up by the wind.

He resisted the urge to reach out and tidy it, and said softly, “That’s too severe.

No need.”

 

To prove that he truly had no feelings for him, after eating, Lin Chuji deliberately moved his tent to the farthest spot, one south and one north from Xie Yan’s, with a dozen tents in between.

 

To watch the sunrise early the next morning, everyone said goodnight early.

The island instantly became quiet, only the sound of the wind remaining.

 

Xie Yan didn’t want to miss the night scenery.

He sat alone at the edge of his open tent, casually taking photos of the sky and the distance.

His eye pressed to the camera, his view narrowed, his field of vision reduced—then he felt a weight on him.

“Lin Chuji?”

 

Xie Yan hadn’t even seen who it was clearly.

He felt the person swaying, instinctively reached out and pulled him back.

 

The narrowness of that waist—one touch and he could easily recognize it.

 

Lin Chuji wrapped his arms around Xie Yan’s waist and burrowed his head into his warm neck. “Cold.”

 

Xie Yan was amused.

He moved his tent to cover up, but still came running.

 

He held up the camera and roughly recorded a segment, even providing voice-over narration: “Lin Chuji came running over again in the middle of the night.

What did he say earlier? ‘If I do it again, I’ll take your last name.’

Caught red-handed.”

 

Lin Chuji ignored him, just burrowed deeper into his embrace.

His restless movements made Xie Yan lose his balance.

The two of them tumbled backward with a loud thud, nearly overturning the tent.

 

It was a huge noise in the quiet night.

Along with the deep and shallow grunts of two young men.

“What was that noise?”

Shen Yinan next door was woken up and muttered.

“Bro, was that you talking?

Holy crap, there wouldn’t be wild animals around here, would there?”

Shen Yibei, as if by twin telepathy, opened his eyes and reached to unzip his tent to go look.

 

One disturbance after another—the nearby tents also began to stir, lights turning on.

 

Xie Yan pulled Lin Chuji into his arms, nimbly rolled into the tent, and pulled down the privacy flap, letting out a long sigh.

 

Lin Chuji, being moved around, was still in a dream, unaware of where he was.

He instinctively struggled: “No… let go… mm…”

“Don’t talk,” Xie Yan warned him.

He felt the other pressed tightly against him, but he couldn’t move.

He could only brace his arms above him, dripping with sweat.

 

And Lin Chuji, having trouble breathing, let out a series of soft, face-reddening moans.

 

Xie Yan was forced to reach out and cover his lips.

Soft and light against his palm, moist, the touch making his heart shudder.

“If you get any louder, everyone will come over,” he said, his voice hoarse.

 

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