Uncle Ji insisted on disinfecting and applying medication to his injury, bringing over a huge first-aid kit in what was truly making a mountain out of a molehill.
Lin Xun stared absentmindedly at the top of the stairs.
Huo Tingxiao’s back just now had looked thoroughly weary; his mood was surely terrible.
A perfectly good evening had been ruined like this—anyone in his shoes would feel thoroughly repulsed.
Lin Xun silently cursed those three uninvited guests in his heart, hoping they would skid and flip their car on their way back.
“All done.”
Uncle Ji packed away the first-aid box and instructed him: “Don’t let the wound touch water tonight. Go get some rest.”
Lin Xun pointed upstairs.
Uncle Ji shook his head: “Let him have some quiet time to himself.”
Lin Xun had no choice but to return to his room.
Thunder rolled outside the window as rain poured down heavily; for the first time, he felt deeply unsettled on a rainy night. Lying in bed, tossing and turning without a wink of sleep, he stared with open eyes until around two in the morning, when he suddenly caught the sound of a piano playing.
Lin Xun pricked up his ears.
At first, the piano notes came in fits and starts, but half a minute later, the flowing notes merged into a stream, blending with the sound of the rain as they tapped rhythmically against his eardrums.
Lightening his steps, he pushed open the door and walked out.
The lights in the main hall were off, and flashes of lightning severed the dark, heavy night from time to time.
Beside the floor-to-ceiling window, Huo Tingxiao sat before the piano. As the heavy rain fell by his side, he seemed to sit alone in the midst of the downpour.
Lin Xun stopped five meters away, watching him in silence.
Recalling a spring afternoon seven years ago filled with continuous rain, Huo Tingxiao had sat in the music room just like this, playing the piano with a desolate expression.
That was the first time he had ever met Huo Tingxiao.
Although he knew nothing about music theory, he could still tell that the teenage Huo Tingxiao was growing increasingly restless as he played, until the piece finally ended hastily on a few abrupt, heavy chords.
With a loud “bang,” the teenage Huo Tingxiao slammed the piano cover shut, and immediately afterward, the music stand was swept to the floor with a clatter, taking the neighboring violin and guitar down with it to suffer the same fate.
Sitting in the corner beside a pile of old tables and chairs, Lin Xun had remained completely silent.
He had always kept a low profile, so it was only after the teenage Huo Tingxiao finished venting his emotions that he noticed there was actually another person in the piano room.
Their eyes met, a dull roll of spring thunder grumbling overhead.
“…Sorry.” The teenage Huo Tingxiao grabbed the school uniform jacket dumped at his feet and strode out of the piano room.
Lin Xun closed his eyes listlessly, intending to continue resting, only to hear footsteps turning back around.
He raised his head to see the teenage Huo Tingxiao striding straight toward him. Lin Xun warily grabbed the leg of a nearby chair, ready to strike back at a moment’s notice.
However, what the teenage Huo Tingxiao extended to him was not a fist, but a clean wet wipe.
“There’s blood at the corner of your mouth. Wipe it off.”
Seeing him hesitate to take it, the teenage Huo Tingxiao placed a bottle of mineral water at his feet and set the wet wipe on the bottle cap. “Please keep quiet about what just happened. Thank you.”
With that, he walked away.
The door to the piano room was not shut tight, and a gentle drizzle drifted inside, slowly moistening the parched, desolate wasteland of Lin Xun’s youth.
Lin Xun had never expected to see Huo Tingxiao play the piano again.
In the sparse night light, the man’s silhouette seemed to overlap with that of the teenager from seven years ago. Only now, Huo Tingxiao would no longer rely on smashing things to vent his emotions.
This time, Lin Xun heard a complete piece of music.
The style of the song was soothing and gentle, with a tempo that was even momentarily lighthearted, yet the person playing it looked visibly heartbroken.
An empty wine glass sat on the piano stand. Lin Xun walked over and filled it halfway with liquor.
Huo Tingxiao looked up and asked him, “Does it sound good?”
Lin Xun nodded.
The man’s slender fingers moved across the black and white keys, practically striking every note straight onto his heartstrings.
Huo Tingxiao remained silent.
A streak of lightning crawled across the horizon, illuminating the deep gloom between his brows.
He had played this song countless times, its melody long ingrained in his memory, yet no matter how he played it, it was a far cry from the original piece in his memories.
The first time he heard it was at his ten-year-old birthday party, played personally by his mother, Shen Qiunyun.
Inspired on a rainy night, she had composed it as a birthday gift for him, naming it Xiao Xiao—a play on the homophone and meaning of his name.
Shen Qiunyun was a woman of extraordinary talent who had achieved fame at a young age, a world-renowned piano virtuoso across the Alliance. Huo Tingxiao’s piano skills had been taught to him hand-in-hand by her.
Huo Tingxiao loved this special gift dearly, and Shen Qiunyun had promised to teach him how to play it. But before he could learn it, she was suddenly rushed into the emergency room with an acute illness.
She never came back out.
Huo Tingxiao had never imagined that the first time he played the complete version for her would be at her funeral.
Sitting on the piano stool that day, he had played many wrong notes through his tears.
His father, Huo Zhengjie, had held him in his arms, choked up with emotion as he comforted him and promised that he would join him in missing Shen Qiunyun, and that they would always remain a family.
Yet two months later, his father opened his arms to another woman and child.
The promise was broken, the grief was fake, and the love of the past was watered down—who could tell how much sincerity there had truly been?
The so-called family was nothing more than this.
Wrong note again.
Huo Tingxiao picked up the wine glass and took a gulp.
Lin Xun lowered his body, dropping to one knee beside the piano bench. He typed a few words on his phone and held it out for him to see.
Written on the faintly glowing screen: Don’t be sad.
Huo Tingxiao lowered his eyelashes. Lin Xun tilted his head up, looking at him with a pair of moist, glistening eyes—the picture of utter obedience and warmth.
He reached out and stroked Lin Xun’s cheek, his thumb lightly skimming over the injured cheekbone.
Lin Xun shivered slightly, plucking up the courage to lean his cheek close to the man’s palm, nuzzling against it twice.
The inner side of Huo Tingxiao’s hand had a thin callus left behind by handling firearms. The slightly rough sensation of the friction sent a wave of numbness straight up Lin Xun’s spine.
He heard Huo Tingxiao ask: “Are you still going to hide from me?”
Lin Xun immediately shook his head.
Forgetting all about his agonizing internal debate and calculations, even if he couldn’t walk away unscathed in the future, it was completely impossible for him to maintain restraint and keep his distance at a time like this.
He didn’t want Huo Tingxiao to stand alone in the rain, nor did he want him playing the piano in lonely solitude in the middle of the night.
I will keep you company.
Lin Xun wanted to say these words to Huo Tingxiao with his own voice, but his dry, hoarse throat couldn’t produce any meaningful sound.
Nor did he have the right to say such things.
In the end, he typed another line of text on his phone.
[I will protect you.]
What happened that night would never happen a second time. Even if it was someone from the Huo family, Lin Xun would never let anyone point a finger at Huo Tingxiao’s face again.
“Protect me.”
Huo Tingxiao murmured softly, his pitch-black eyes tracing Lin Xun’s facial features in meticulous detail.
Following his gaze, his fingers slowly slid downward, finally landing on the somewhat dry lips, rubbing forcefully against them twice.
The inner side of Lin Xun’s lips was pressed painfully against his teeth. He felt his scalp go numb, but he didn’t dodge, remaining on one knee, resting beside the man’s legs.
Huo Tingxiao seemed to be pleased, lightly tapping his lips with a fingertip as a sign of comfort.
Lin Xun parted his mouth slightly.
In the next second, Huo Tingxiao’s finger pried open his teeth.
Lin Xun felt as though his entire body were about to burst into flames. Amidst the sound of his runaway heartbeat, he heard Huo Tingxiao ask him:
“How are you going to protect me?”
Huo Tingxiao’s fingers authoritatively swept across his rows of teeth and the roof of his mouth, even maliciously scraping across the tip of his tongue.
A few drops of saliva escaped, running down Lin Xun’s chin and dampening the leather collar around his neck.
Lin Xun was forced to tilt his head even higher.
Huo Tingxiao looked down, gazing straight into his beautiful, tear-glistening eyes.
“I’ve seen your medical examination report,” he said, his fingers probing deeper toward the back of his throat.
“Your vocal cords are perfectly fine.”
Lin Xun froze instantly as physiological tears spilled from the red corners of his eyes.
Huo Tingxiao stared intently at him.
Lightning tore through the dark night, laying bare every secret thought he had believed to be safely hidden, leaving them with nowhere to hide.
Huo Tingxiao withdrew his hand, his moist fingers lightly tapping Lin Xun’s cheek a few times.
He called him “Lin Xun.”
Then he said to him: “I don’t like secrets.”