Chapter 36: Wrong, Ah Xu

“Yuan Hanfei,” Ji Xu looked at Yuan Hanfei, who was sitting at the desk looking at his computer, “Can I bribe you with a bag of snacks to help me blow-dry my hair?”

Yuan Hanfei turned his chair around to face him.

Ji Xu was leaning against the bathroom doorframe, wiping his wet hair with a towel, the warm yellow light of the bathroom seeping through from behind him, gilding his entire body in a soft halo.

Water droplets dripped down from the ends of his hair, dragging out several sparkling traces across the skin of his collarbones and shoulders.

Having just taken a shower, his cheeks were steamed slightly red by the heat, his lips moist with a layer of water sheen, his whole person looking clean and hazy, like a painting that had just been washed by water, with soft mist diffusing along its edges.

An absurd metaphor suddenly popped up in Yuan Hanfei’s mind—a divine son committing a crime in a sacred posture.

He did not know why he would think of this, probably because the lingering charm of having just finished watching that old movie had not yet completely dispersed.

He dragged himself out of that outlandish thought, extending two fingers: “One bag is way too little, at least two bags.”

Ji Xu turned around and walked to his desk, pulling open a drawer to rummage through that snack bag.

Potato chips, biscuits, chocolate, jelly—he pulled out a bag of his favorite butter cookies from inside, took a glance, stuffed it back in again, swapped it for a bag of ordinary soda crackers, weighed it in his hand, and then turned to walk in front of Yuan Hanfei, slapping the crackers onto his desk: “No more extra, there’s only this one bag.”

He spoke with total confidence, as if this were already the maximum sincerity he could pull out.

Yuan Hanfei looked down at that bag of plain soda crackers on the desk, raised his head to look at Ji Xu, and did not expose his little action of clearly clutching the butter cookies in his hand yet hiding them back.

He took the hair dryer out of the drawer, plugged it in, and patted his own thigh: “Come, sit here.”

Ji Xu stood in front of him, looked down at Yuan Hanfei’s leg, raised his head to look at Yuan Hanfei’s face, his expression written with the four words “Are you for real?”.

Yuan Hanfei did not answer, directly extending his hand to grab Ji Xu’s wrist and pulling him toward himself, while his other hand supported the side of his waist and pressed him down—Ji Xu caught unpreparedly, fell onto his leg, his back leaning against Yuan Hanfei’s chest, his entire person encircled between his two arms, a posture so intimate that his ear tips instantly burned.

“Both are alphas,” Yuan Hanfei’s voice came down from above his head, carrying a grand matter-of-factness, as if this reason was enough to explain all unconventional things.

He pressed the hair dryer switch, warm air surging out of the nozzle, his other hand sliding into Ji Xu’s wet hair, beginning to slowly stroke the strands to let the hot air blow across the hair roots and scalp.

Ji Xu first sat stiffly for two seconds, and then, blown by the hair dryer’s cozy wind and gently massaged on his scalp by Yuan Hanfei’s finger pads, his body slowly softened down.

He let out a yawn, a bit of tears seeping from the corners of his eyes, his voice carrying sleepiness as he spoke fuzzily: “Don’t pull my hair.”

“I am very professional,” Yuan Hanfei’s fingers passed softly through his hair strands, his strength much more practiced than the last time he blew his hair, without pulling a single hair again.

His movements from root to tip were slow and patient, blowing every wisp of wet hair until it was seventy to eighty percent dry before changing to the next, occasionally pressing Ji Xu’s scalp gently with his finger pads, pushing along the hairline and the direction behind his neck.

Being pressed like this by him, Ji Xu’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier, his head unconsciously leaning back to rest on Yuan Hanfei’s shoulder, his breathing gradually becoming even and long.

Not long after, a small snoring sound leaked out from his slightly parted lips, light and short, like a kitten making a purring sound in its sleep.

Yuan Hanfei turned off the hair dryer and looked down at that head leaning on his shoulder.

Eyelashes closed, lips slightly open, breathing calmly brushing past the side of his neck, carrying the warmth remaining after the shower gel and hair strands were blown dry.

“How did you fall asleep again…” he said softly, his tone carrying that familiar helplessness that had already happened several times.

The meat of Ji Xu’s leg pressed against his thigh through thin lounge shorts, soft and warm, the fitted curve slightly undulating with the rhythm of his breathing.

Yuan Hanfei’s hand originally rested on the side of Ji Xu’s waist, sliding down a bit ghost-driven, landing on the outer side of his thigh, his palm pressing against that layer of soft curve neither lightly nor heavily.

So soft.

His fingers moved, unable to resist wanting to pinch again.

His wrist was grabbed.

Ji Xu’s eyes had opened at an unknown time, devoid of the water vapor of remaining sleepiness, but clear and carrying a bit of playful brightness.

He tilted his head, his face leaning very close to the side of Yuan Hanfei’s ear, his lips almost touching his pinna, his voice pressed very low, carrying the faint raspiness after having just woken up: “Feels good to touch?”

Yuan Hanfei froze for a moment, and then laughed out loud.

The exact same words—that day when he touched Ji Xu’s face, he had asked like this too.

Ji Xu held a grudge, waiting for him right here.

“It really feels pretty good to touch.” Yuan Hanfei not only did not pull his hand back, but instead generously rubbed twice more, the heat of his palm clearly transmitting through that thin layer of cotton cloth.

Ji Xu was rendered speechless.

How could a person be so shameless.

Supporting himself on the edge of the desk, he stood up from Yuan Hanfei’s legs; when he turned around, his hand propped on the tabletop, his other hand raised up, his fingertips landing on Yuan Hanfei’s neck.

His fingers slowly slid along the skin at the side of the neck, sliding all the way from below the jawline across the back of the neck, finally stopping on the position of that gland, the pad of his finger pressing against it and lightly scraping once.

Yuan Hanfei’s breathing violently quickened.

The physiological reaction brought when an alpha’s gland was touched was faster and fiercer than any rational control; that small patch of skin on his neck instantly flushed red, his pupils slightly contracting, the pheromones in his body beginning to surge uncontrollably like they were ignited.

The crisp, cool scent of bamboo leaked out from the gland, but he tightly suppressed it from overflowing too much, because Ji Xu was right in front of him less than a fist’s distance away, and that distance allowed him to almost smell the honey scent seeping from behind Ji Xu’s neck growing thicker and thicker, sweet, warm, like a lump of honey soaked through by sunlight slowly wrapping around him.

Yuan Hanfei’s fingers tightened around the armrest of the chair, his knuckles turning white.

All alpha instincts were screaming at him—any alpha who dared to touch his gland like this should be slammed onto the ground by him, choked by the neck, and made to cry and beg for mercy.

His breathing was heavy and scorching, a layer of crimson flushing around the rims of his eyes, the clarity at the bottom of his eyes being overridden by the surging pheromones.

He stared at Ji Xu’s close-at-hand face, his voice like it was squeezed from the depths of his throat, hoarse and restrained: “Wrong, Ah Xu.”

Ji Xu backed away.

His fingers withdrew from Yuan Hanfei’s back neck, the honey scent rapidly dispersing along with his retreat, with only a tiny bit of residual sweetness remaining in the air.

His expression was calm, but his ear tips were still red, his heartbeat thumping against his chest; he did not know why he performed that action just now, it was just that his hand reached there and naturally dropped down.

Looking at Yuan Hanfei’s reddened eye rims and fingers tightly gripping the armrests, his throat moved: “Going to sleep.”

Then he turned around, quickly climbed up to his own bed, pulled the bed curtain shut, and shrank his entire self into the quilt.

Yuan Hanfei sat on the chair and took several deep breaths.

That faint strand of honey scent lingered in the air, like a subtle thread twisting between his breaths.

He closed his eyes, slowly pressing back that surging wave of pheromones, the bamboo scent gradually calming down.

He opened his eyes to look at the opposite bed that had already pulled its curtains, the corner of his mouth moving, and holding back again.

Just a little, just a little bit more, and he would have lost control of himself.

The day of the anime convention arrived very quickly.

Nanyue Square was on the east side of Haicheng city center, a two-story gray building with dark stone slabs pasted on the outer walls and an open plaza in front of the door.

The members of the anime club completed their costume changes and makeup in the school’s activity room, and then took the minibus rented by the club together to go over.

Ji Xu, Shi Yu, and Qian Chenhe sat in the same row, Ji Xu by the window, Shi Yu in the middle, Qian Chenhe on the aisle side.

The street views outside the car window slid backward all the way; Ji Xu leaned against the seat back, wearing that altered blue dress on his body, the waist tailoring obedient and form-fitting after being adjusted by Shi Yu, the rhinestones flashing from time to time under the light seeping through the car window, the small blue flowers on the skirt hem lightly trembling along with the slight swaying of the vehicle.

The makeup artist Gao Yi was a beta, not tall in stature, with long, slender, flexible fingers.

After arriving at the temporary makeup area in the venue’s backstage, he first made basic makeup adjustments for several cosplayers—touching up foundation, trimming eyebrow shapes, sweeping blush, and then starting to put on wigs.

It was Ji Xu’s first time daubing so many layers of things on his face, from primer to foundation to concealer to setting powder, every layer making him feel like something was smeared on his face, unable to resist wanting to reach out to touch it.

Gao Yi pressed his wrists down several times, and the last time directly fixed his chin, fingers pinching his jawline to stop him from moving: “Don’t move. Move again and the makeup gets ruined.”

Pinched by the chin, Ji Xu sat obediently, his eyes turning left and right, seeing another freshman Xuxing Yue beside him also pressed on a chair being applied makeup by another makeup artist; the two exchanged a glance across the mirror, trading a look of “how are we so miserable.”

After all the makeup and styling were completed, Ji Xu stood up and stood in front of the mirror to look at himself.

The blue dress was paired with a gradient long wig of the same color scheme, the hair ends curled into slight waves. Gao Yi drew slender eyeliner for him, the end of the eye slightly upturned, a layer of light blue fine glitter swept over the tear trough area, his entire face modified with clear yet soft contours, looking like two different people from the usually bare-faced Ji Xu.

Shi Yu walked over to help him reinforce another rhinestone on the side of his waist, stepped back to look at the overall effect, and nodded in satisfaction.

Qian Chenhe pushed Ji Xu and Xu Xingyue, who had finished their styling, to stand at the doorway position, patting the shoulders of the two and pushing them one step forward: “Remember to do good expression management, you guys are our facade.”

Ji Xu turned his head to glance at him; Qian Chenhe gave him a thumbs-up, and beside him Shi Yu had already leaned over with a phone to take two group photos of them.

The broadcast outside the venue began to sound warming-up music, human voices and footsteps surging in from the exit direction, as the curtain of the anime convention officially pulled open.

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