“You like me, right?”
When they emerged from the small wooden cabin, everyone noticed that Xie Yun was walking with his arms and legs moving in sync on the same side, like a clunky, awkward robot.
Yet, his face remained handsome and his aura rebellious; he still looked incredibly cool and dashing.
The others: “…”
Xie Yun must have a reason for walking that way!
The youth stepped forward and climbed onto the kayak. The shallow lake surface was the color of matcha milk, ripples spreading out as the boat rocked.
His mind was elsewhere as he sat down stiffly, but remembering something, he hurriedly stood up. The movement of proactively reaching out his hand was as natural as an instinct.
It was the kind of behavior that made observers think of “Knight Syndrome” a teenager caught in the throes of an ambiguous romance.
The other side of the kayak dipped slightly as Xi Zhiyu sat down. Though they didn’t touch, a scorching heat seemed to spread through the air.
Their eyes met.
Time seemed to freeze. Xie Yun lingered on the gaze for two seconds before quickly grasping the heavy paddle.
“That… Ge, watch your safety.”
Xi Zhiyu followed suit. Seeing Xie Yun pointedly turn his face away which only served to expose the obvious crimson flush on his earlobes he felt his own breath carry a wave of heat: “Okay.”
“You too, Yun-zai.”
Not far away, the others watched this scene, some scratching their heads, others rubbing their faces.
“Sister Qiong, aren’t the Top Student and the Celebrity Bro childhood friends? Isn’t this a bit… too polite?”
Lackey A spoke up out of curiosity, only to be sternly warned by Fei Chuqiong: “Mind your own business.”
Lackey B: “Exactly. Actually, I think they’re acting pretty flirtatious. They must have said something in that cabin, right?”
Fei Chuqiong: “You think so too?!”
Lackey C: “Hey, why bring this up? Are you trying to make our Sister Qiong jealous?”
Fei Chuqiong: “I am a career fan! A career fan! Why on earth would I be jealous?!”
Fei Bo’an: “Excuse us.”
Yuan Zhoulu: “Make way, thanks.”
These two newly acquainted Alphas carried a single kayak together, walking with synchronized steps. The scene was bizarre beyond words.
Fei Chuqiong’s gaze swept from her cousin and the neighbor to the movie star and the senior disappearing into the forest. Her lip twitched.
“How did those two end up as a team?!”
“They aren’t planning to do something bad behind my back, are they…”
The travel route was flexible, with staff stationed at every intersection for safety.
Xi Zhiyu and Xie Yun chose the “Deer Trail.” Once settled, they began to paddle, gradually putting distance between themselves and the friends who had chosen other routes.
Both seemed to be brewing their own internal scripts.
Xie Yun’s mind, in particular, was as messy as a pot of mixed congee. He repeatedly turned over the words he’d heard in the cabin, wondering if he was still in a dream.
Ge… has someone he likes?
Even though the word “insecurity” had never existed in his dictionary, when facing Xi Zhiyu, the self-aware and handsome Xie Yun couldn’t help but overthink. Was the person his brother liked himself, or someone else?
Especially when his “Straight Alpha” symptoms flared up, a certain possibility took hold: as an Omega, his brother might be prone to shyness, so it was only fitting for him, the Alpha, to take the lead and confess otherwise, Xi Zhiyu never would have said those things.
Thus, Xie Yun became increasingly convinced that the person could only be him. The sound of his own heartbeat was so loud he forgot to breathe, and he paddled with even more vigor.
Just then.
A herd of small deer stepped into the water, approaching from afar like spirits of the forest, hidden within the emerald wonderland.
The two youths instinctively reached for their phones. To avoid disturbing them, their movements were incredibly light, but the deer didn’t shy away; instead, they drew closer.
There was a small basket on the kayak. The two rummaged through it and pulled out a small bag of treats thin carrot sticks for the deer.
Xie Yun proactively handed them over: “Ge, here.”
“Thank you.”
Xi Zhiyu pursed his lips and smiled softly, taking a few clusters of carrots and feeding them evenly to each deer that approached him.
The sunlight filtering through the gaps in the cedar trees cast a soft glow, outlining Xi Zhiyu’s entire silhouette; even his hair seemed tender.
Xie Yun’s entire heart was swelling, like a small loaf of bread in an oven, and his cheeks felt toasted.
Suddenly, Xi Zhiyu asked, “Are the photos for the studio ready?”
Xie Yun fed a carrot as he replied, “Huh? Not yet.”
He had been so preoccupied with the confession that he wasn’t in the mood for selfies. He had even been thinking of using the deer as an excuse to sneak a photo of his brother’s profile.
However, just as the lens panned over.
Xi Zhiyu took the initiative: “Want me to help you take some?”
“…What?”
“Photos of Yun-zai with the deer. Very cute.”
“Is… is that so?”
Xie Yun held his breath and handed the phone over, nodding obediently. “Then help me take them, Ge.”
The word “cute” looped in his mind. If someone else like his manager or cousin had praised him like that, his brow would have furrowed into mountain ridges.
His double standards were only ever fully displayed in front of Xi Zhiyu.
Crunch.
The surroundings were silent, save for the sound of the shutter and the crisp noise of the deer gnawing on Xie Yun’s carrots.
Crunch, crunch.
After helping with the photos, Xi Zhiyu handed the phone back. Xie Yun didn’t even look at the pictures, using his roaming data to post them to Weibo.
Ding.
A familiar Weibo notification chimed simultaneously from both phones.
Hearing the sound, Xie Yun glanced over. He saw Xi Zhiyu’s phone resting on his knee, the screen lit up with a notification:
Your Only Follow @XieYun has posted a new 9-photo update~
In that instant.
The warm forest breeze brushed their faces, but a burning sensation climbed up their ears. Even their breathing felt like it was powered by an accelerator.
Xie Yun’s rounded eyes shone with moisture. Finally, unable to hold back, he spoke: “Ge.”
“Have you… been following my Weibo for a long time?”
Xi Zhiyu’s heart skipped a beat: “…”
As if to hide his emotions, he continued feeding the deer. From Xie Yun’s perspective, he could see Xi’s handsome, focused profile; only his eyelashes seemed to flicker.
Xie Yun, acting on impulse, folded his hands between his knees but leaned his body straight forward, his voice dropping low: “You didn’t tell the truth before, did you?”
“…Mm.”
Xi Zhiyu didn’t dare react easily. His palms were slick with sweat, but he realized every step of this conversation had been pushed forward by his own actions.
Xie Yun, who seemingly held the initiative, now looked like he had an invisible tail drooping. He pouted, his expression appearing frank and blunt.
He watched his brother finish feeding the deer. When the animals rubbed their heads against Xi’s wrists, Xie Yun felt a pang of jealousy he was even envious of animals now. “Actually.”
“I’ve always wanted to tell you…”
“I transferred schools because of you, Ge.”
It just slipped out.
Xi Zhiyu’s hand shook, and he turned his head. To Xie Yun, he looked completely shocked.
Does this count as a confession?
Perhaps it wasn’t explicit enough. Xie Yun, not giving the breathless Xi Zhiyu a chance to respond, raised his hand to rub the back of his neck. His face was flushed as he spoke in one breath: “I heard you went to Aaron’s cousin’s birthday party, and I already knew you followed my Weibo.”
“Then… you must have seen it…”
“The Weibo I posted during the Berlin Film Festival.”
The “window paper” was more than just poked through; they were practically face-to-face, just one step away from a clear declaration of “The person I like is you.”
Despite midsummer having passed, the island sun still beat down through the cedars, making one feel lightheaded.
Xi Zhiyu didn’t speak. He always appeared gentle and inclusive, but those who truly knew him privately thought him cold and distant, believing no one could truly enter his safety zone.
Except for Xie Yun.
For all these years, only Xie Yun was special. Even a short while ago, Xi had thought their relationship had entered a plateau.
Who would have thought he would belatedly discover the secret of his childhood friend’s feelings?
Transferring for the Omega he liked, rushing back to Nancheng immediately after finishing work, falling asleep from exhaustion, the special pinned account…
He was also feeling those emotions ferment. Countless times, he had wondered about the feelings Xie Yun kept hidden.
Is it really me? When did he start liking me? Why… did he never let me know?
Too many questions flooded him like a tide. It wasn’t until last night that Xi Zhiyu realized he cared that he, too, liked the youth before him.
That was why he had said those things in the cabin.
And now, he had found this naive, reckless boy, who had written the answer on his handsome, obedient face and told him personally.
Xi Zhiyu’s glands were likely undergoing a change again.
His fingertips pressed against his wristband, which hid an interface warning of a skyrocketing heart rate. His mood felt like it was on a roller coaster.
It doesn’t matter if I differentiate into an Alpha, right?
He had never cared about gender, nor had he ever liked anyone before. Whether Yun-zai was an Alpha, an Omega, or a Beta who couldn’t perceive pheromones…
None of that could affect this special feeling.
Yun-zai must feel the same, he thought.
Xi Zhiyu released his clenched fist and raised his eyes, about to speak: “Yun-zai.”
In the next second.
Perhaps because he had waited too long, Xie Yun, rubbing his reddened neck, was already speaking incoherently: “Did Ge see that Weibo?”
Xi Zhiyu nodded blankly: “I saw it.”
“That’s good.”
Xie Yun said muffledly, “Was it… at the birthday party that you saw it?”
Xi Zhiyu’s ears burned as he nodded: “…Mm.”
The youth inexplicably avoided his gaze, offering a redundant explanation: “I mean the one where I said I don’t like Alphas, and that I have an Omega I like.”
Xi Zhiyu felt dizzy. They had long since stopped paddling, and the boat had drifted to some unknown spot.
A sliver of piercing sunlight suddenly struck his pupils.
Xi Zhiyu’s throat tightened: “You don’t like Alphas?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
Xie Yun’s voice rose a few notches, terrified that his brother would misunderstand the rumors about him and Aaron. “Though I’m not exactly ‘Alpha-phobic’…”
“But my sexual orientation is definitely not Alphas.”
“Ge…”
“Zhiyu-ge. Are you listening?”
An uncontrollable heat spread from his glands, racing through his nerves. Xi Zhiyu’s vision was blurred by the heat, but he stared fixedly at the fair skin of Xie Yun’s nape.
The glands there were emitting an alluring aura. Those few sentences about “not being interested in Alphas” acted as a powerful catalyst.
He wanted to bite…
Stop talking about Alphas or Omegas.
A violent impulse never before seen in the steady, calm youth erupted. His wandering gaze became entangled with danger and ambiguity, closing the distance between him and the rambling boy.
By the time he realized it.
Xie Yun was stunned by his brother’s sudden proximity. His breath hitched, and he didn’t dare move a muscle.
“Ge?” he tested softly.
“Mm.”
Xi Zhiyu looked at him through half-lidded eyes, his voice deep and authoritative in a way that was entirely unlike his usual self.
“Regardless of Alpha or Omega.”
“The person Yun-zai likes is me.”
“Right?”