Wei Zhenye turned on the tap, scooped up a handful of cold water, and splashed it on his face. Bracing his hands on the sink, he stared at his reflection in the mirror.
The edges of his ears were red, and so were the corners of his eyes.
He didn’t dare look down at his lower body, only tried to clear his mind and wait for it to calm on its own.
This was the second time he’d had such a reaction in front of He Zheng—
even more embarrassing than the first.
The first time had been eight years ago. That was the day he first saw He Zheng dressed as a woman — heavy makeup, black curls tumbling down his shoulders, a deep red slit dress revealing the long line of one leg. Stunning enough to take someone’s breath away.
He had just stood there, frozen, then ducked his head and continued washing vegetables.
He Zheng had lit a cigarette and watched him leisurely. “Xiao Wei, what are you washing?”
Wei Zhenye didn’t dare look up. All he could think of was that blindingly fair leg. He mumbled, “Cabbage.”
He Zheng stifled a laugh. “Take another look.”
Wei Zhenye looked down properly — spinach.
He squeezed out a strangled, “Damn…”
He Zheng had laughed so hard he couldn’t stop. He really did love teasing him sometimes — watching him flush red, bury his face, too shy to lift his head. It was as amusing as toying with a pet.
A knock at the door pulled Wei Zhenye out of the memory.
He Zheng cleared his throat outside, asking politely, “You done in there?”
Wei Zhenye turned off the faucet and opened the door. This time, He Zheng didn’t look there again. Scratching his head, he said, “That was fast.”
Wei Zhenye frowned. That sounded… ambiguous.
What do you mean, fast?
Could He Zheng be thinking he had gone in there to, well, handle it himself?
“I just washed my face,” Wei Zhenye gave him a side glance. “Nothing else.”
He Zheng made an expression that said ‘I know, I know’ and replied, “It’s not a big deal.”
“….”
He patted Wei Zhenye’s shoulder and went back to the kitchen. Wei Zhenye was too exasperated to argue, so he stayed quiet, went to the bedroom, and replaced his bandage — it had loosened when he washed his hands earlier.
He had just opened the bedside drawer when his phone rang. It was Yang Cheng.
“So you really went to find He Zheng?”
Yang Cheng’s usual lazy tone was gone, replaced by sharp words. “I saw your face on the livestream. Do you not think about the consequences?”
“So what if they saw?”
Wei Zhenye calmly tore open a new bandage and pressed it on.
“Did you forget the drama you just invested in for He Zheng? His position as lead was shaky to begin with, and now that your identity’s out, everyone will say he got the role by sleeping with the investor.”
“And?”
Yang Cheng’s voice rose. “And what about the company’s reputation? Your privacy? Your parents already hate that you’re in the entertainment industry, and you pull this stunt right at the start of your career — how are you going to explain that to them?”
“If He Zheng’s reputation gets hurt, fine. But I don’t want you dragged into this mess.”
Before Wei Zhenye could respond, He Zheng’s voice called from the other room, “Dinner’s ready!”
As expected, Wei Zhenye replied, “Got it,” and hung up without another word.
Yang Cheng was probably fuming on the other end.
After dinner, Wei Zhenye cleaned up the dishes and said, “I should go.”
He Zheng poked his head out from the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth. “It’s late. Stay here and rest.”
Wei Zhenye lowered his head and shook it. “I can’t.”
He Zheng blinked. “Can’t what?”
Wei Zhenye hesitated, then admitted awkwardly, “I… have poor self-control.”
He Zheng chuckled. “What’s there to avoid? You used to bring your blanket and sleep on my floor every night.”
“That was different.”
Back then, Wei Zhenye hadn’t wanted him this badly. Now, just having He Zheng squat in front of him was enough to make him hard — let alone sharing a bed.
He was, first and foremost, a normal man with desires — not a tame pet. And he was genuinely afraid that if he stayed, he wouldn’t be able to control himself — that he’d act on all the buried, shameful urges he’d suppressed for years.
“I’ll sleep on the couch. You take the bed.”
He Zheng rinsed his mouth, set his cup down, then opened a fresh tube of ointment and handed it to him.
Wei Zhenye hesitated before taking it. Without saying much, He Zheng went to the bedroom, grabbed a blanket, and laid it out on the couch.
“Good night,” he said.
……
Around two or three in the morning, He Zheng’s phone buzzed. He was a light sleeper; half-awake, he picked it up.
It was a message from Wei Zhenye: Can’t sleep.
The time difference had messed with his rhythm—he hadn’t had a proper night’s rest in days.
He Zheng yawned, grabbed his pillow, and went to the bedroom.
Inside, Wei Zhenye was curled up under the covers, back facing the door. His phone glowed softly—the only light in the room—as he stared at it, waiting for a reply.
He Zheng placed his pillow beside his head. Only then did Wei Zhenye realize someone else was there and slowly turn over.
He Zheng was half-asleep, his mind hazy and sluggish. He lay down on the bed, tugged the blanket, and forced his heavy eyelids open just enough to murmur, “Sleep. I’ll stay with you.”
When He Zheng had treated his wound earlier, there’d at least been a bit of space between them. But now, their faces were less than two centimeters apart—eye to eye, close enough to feel each other’s breath.
Wei Zhenye’s pupils trembled slightly. He wanted to meet He Zheng’s eyes, but still couldn’t help backing down.
Only when He Zheng’s gaze grew more and more unfocused did he dare to quietly lift his eyes and carefully look at the face he couldn’t stop thinking about.
When He Zheng didn’t smile, he naturally gave off a cold feeling. His nose bridge was high, his lips thin and closed tight, his eyelashes thick and long. Even without makeup, his striking looks were still very strong.
The room was so quiet it felt unreal. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the moonlight. Everything was dark. The only sound was He Zheng’s steady breathing.
Wei Zhenye clenched his palm hard, secretly cheering himself on.
At the moment He Zheng’s eyelids finally closed, Wei Zhenye held his breath, suddenly leaned in, and quickly kissed his cheek.
Just a light touch. He Zheng didn’t wake up.
Then I won’t feel bad about it, Wei Zhenye thought.
He pulled up He Zheng’s wrist and placed his arm around his own waist, forming a close, hugging position.
Then he kissed He Zheng’s chin.
He Zheng still didn’t wake up.
Wei Zhenye reached out a finger and poked the bridge of He Zheng’s nose, slowly moving down—nose tip—and then stopped at his lips. His fingertip rubbed gently, pressing down a little. The touch was soft and warm.
Should I kiss here? he asked himself.
After struggling for a moment, Wei Zhenye decided not to.
That wouldn’t be respectful. If He Zheng found out, he would probably hate him.
Wei Zhenye tucked the blanket around He Zheng, not caring that only a corner of the blanket was left for himself. He turned around, rested one hand under his cheek, faced away from He Zheng, and closed his eyes, still thinking about the small thrill of that stolen kiss.
But the next second, he suddenly felt the arm around his waist tighten.
Behind him, He Zheng let out a low laugh and said sleepily, with a nasal tone, “That’s all the courage you’ve got?”