For a moment, Lin Xun thought he was dreaming.
Except dreams involving Huo Tingxiao were usually damp, rain-soaked forests accompanied by a continuous, needle-like pain; rarely were there intimate, ambiguous moments like this. Thus, Lin Xun began to suspect he had alcohol poisoning and had damaged his brain.
Huo Tingxiao watched him patiently, giving him half a minute to digest it. Once the time was up, he pulled back his hand, preparing to leave.
Lin Xun instinctively grabbed him.
Huo Tingxiao propped up his upper body, looking down at him from above.
He neither spoke nor made a move.
Lin Xun pursed his lips as if making a firm decision, taking Huo Tingxiao’s hand and reaching it beneath the covers.
Huo Tingxiao, however, brushed his hand aside and said, “You hesitated for too long.”
Lin Xun’s alcohol-soaked brain struggled to decipher the subtext behind these words. Before he even had time to feel regret or disappointment, Huo Tingxiao’s fingertips landed by his lips.
“If you want it, tell me yourself.”
Lin Xun instinctively bit his lip, but the man’s fingertips touched his canine tooth first.
Scraping it lightly a few times, he used the trace of saliva to smear Lin Xun’s lower lip until it glistened a deep, bright red.
“Do you want it or not?” Huo Tingxiao confirmed the answer with him.
Before this second, Lin Xun had never truly dared to think about it—knowing full well it was impossible, even in his dreams, his subconscious rarely granted him the chance to get close to Huo Tingxiao.
Yet alcohol could make a coward blindly fearless. He took the liberty of interpreting Huo Tingxiao’s gentle gaze as encouragement and indulgence.
Lin Xun’s hands climbed back onto Huo Tingxiao’s wrist, not daring to apply pressure, resting on it only lightly.
His fingertips rubbed the man’s wrist bone with tiny movements as he silently called Huo Tingxiao’s name.
Like a plea, and like begging for mercy.
Huo Tingxiao seemed to be amused. He lay back down beside Lin Xun, propping his head up with one hand while using the other to lead Lin Xun’s hand down into the warm bedding.
Getting straight to the point, he cupped him in one firm grip.
Huo Tingxiao’s palm was warm and strong, with thin calluses left from marksmanship practice; the slightly rough texture intensified its presence.
Lin Xun curled his toes, nearly releasing right in that very first second.
He gripped Huo Tingxiao’s wrist tightly.
Enduring again and again, his arched neck had veins bulging against the choker, a misty layer of moisture forced into his eyes by the light sensation of breathlessness.
Lin Xun stared unblinkingly at Huo Tingxiao, hoping to find a single trace of arousal on that handsome face.
Yet Huo Tingxiao was still Huo Tingxiao.
Even while doing something like this, Huo Tingxiao remained refined, dignified, his gaze calm, his breathing never falling into disarray for anyone.
At least, it wouldn’t fall into disarray for him.
Lin Xun came to a deep realization of this point.
He didn’t feel sad; it was simply that the shock to his body was too intense. When he bit down on his lip, he failed to hold back his strength, breaking the skin on his lower lip with a small cut.
He wanted Huo Tingxiao to let him off, yet amid the rising and falling tides, he wanted to drag Huo Tingxiao down into the water with him as well.
Just as he extended a hand to reach under the hem of Huo Tingxiao’s T-shirt, Huo Tingxiao pinned it down with his knee.
“Don’t cause trouble,” Huo Tingxiao said.
Without any warning, tears spilled from Lin Xun’s eyes.
Huo Tingxiao gently pulled him into his arms, yet cruelly covered his eyes, exerting slight pressure with his hand working downwards; in the next second, Lin Xun wet his palm.
Lin Xun was always slow to react.
Slow to feel shame and embarrassment for this physical act in which he alone had drowned.
When Huo Tingxiao went to wipe his tears, Lin Xun avoided it by rolling back onto his pillow.
He raised his arm, blocking his aching eyes.
He lay limp in the tangled bedding as though he had exhausted immense physical strength just now—terribly tired, completely motionless, except for his chest rising and falling unpeacefully.
The mattress shifted. Lin Xun pricked up his ears, waiting for the sound of the room door opening and closing, but instead, he heard the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.
Deprived of the heat source beside him, a wave of emptiness and coldness swept over him. He pulled the bedding tight, wrapping himself up like a silkworm cocoon.
The water sound stopped shortly. Huo Tingxiao wrung out a wet towel and walked towards him, pressing the towel against Lin Xun’s flushed cheek. “Wipe clean before going to sleep.”
Lin Xun opened his eyes, remaining still.
Huo Tingxiao lifted the blanket wrapped around him, but Lin Xun pressed down on his hand, stopping him from wiping down his body. This was not something Huo Tingxiao should be doing—he was already thoughtful enough; there was no reason for him to do this too.
Lin Xun took the towel and retreated into the duvet.
With a head of messy grey hair, his eyes red and the tip of his nose equally flushed, he looked like a wronged child who had just hidden under the covers to cry in secret.
Huo Tingxiao brushed the sweat-dampened stray hairs away from his forehead and asked, “Sobered up?”
Lin Xun shook his head, unable to tell whether he was drunk or sober right now. Clearly, he possessed an exceptionally sharp awareness of every single detail, yet his control over his emotions was virtually zero.
He must be drunk; only by being drunk did he have an excuse.
As if to prove this claim, he suddenly tilted his head and swiftly pecked a kiss onto the back of the man’s hand, where he had scratched red marks earlier.
Seemingly finding the drunkard amusing, Huo Tingxiao teased him deliberately: “I haven’t washed my hands clean.”
Lin Xun licked his lips and kissed Huo Tingxiao’s fingertips once more, the look in his eyes bordering on devout.
Huo Tingxiao asked, knowing full well the answer: “What does this mean?”
Having completely unexpected that he would have to explain such behavior, Lin Xun blinked sluggishly, his head starting to spin from a lack of processing power. Extending his right hand from beneath the blanket, he traced two soft strokes onto Huo Tingxiao’s palm.
Huo Tingxiao held his fingertips and asked, “‘Thank you,’ or ‘I like you’?”
Lin Xun opened his mouth and silently mouthed “thank you.”
Huo Tingxiao looked down at him, the orange-hued nightlight softening his gaze into a tender, affectionate pool.
He asked, “Is a kiss the only thank-you gift?”
Lin Xun couldn’t understand his meaning at all, yet he still looked up at Huo Tingxiao with absolute sincerity, gesturing character by character in his own way to express his true feelings.
Huo Tingxiao was equally cooperative, patiently guessing character by character to piece together what Lin Xun wanted to convey.
“‘I’ll give you everything I have’—is that it?”
Lin Xun nodded solemnly.
Huo Tingxiao chuckled softly. His gaze suddenly landed on a corner beneath Lin Xun’s pillow, where a wristwatch glinted faintly with a metallic sheen under the nightlight.
He asked, “Can you give me this watch too?”
He had originally intended to just tease Lin Xun with a joke, but Lin Xun clearly took it seriously, panic creeping into his eyes. Showing a trace of reluctance to push further, Huo Tingxiao was just about to take back the joke when Lin Xun took his hand and put the watch—treasured for six years—onto Huo Tingxiao’s wrist.
The phrase “it was a joke” stuck in Huo Tingxiao’s throat, no longer able to be spoken.
And after putting the watch on him, Lin Xun curled up into the duvet, turning his back, making no further sound.
Huo Tingxiao sat by the bedside for a long time. Lin Xun maintained his curled-up posture throughout, looking as if he were freezing, or perhaps grieving.
He raised the room temperature by one degree, turned off the small nightlight, and sat amidst a sliver of moonlight filtering through the gap in the curtains, quietly watching the thin figure on the bed.
He only left once Lin Xun’s breathing grew even and steady.
A few minutes later, Lin Xun turned over.
First, he felt the spot where Huo Tingxiao had been sitting, then reached his hand beneath the pillow.
It was empty.
The watch he had to touch to fall asleep every single night in the past had been returned to its original owner.
What a foolish decision.
Huo Tingxiao had no shortage of luxury watches and accessories; he wouldn’t care about a broken watch. If anything, it might bring back memories of the rotten, ruined past, leading to his own exposure.
Truly foolish.
Lin Xun silently scolded himself over and over. His brain was heavy and muddled, as if trapped in a muddy swamp where the more he struggled, the closer he drew to despair.
………
Flashback
………
Outside the window, a few low rumbles of thunder rolled by.
The muggy heat of the summer night was quickly quenched by a sudden downpour. Lin Xun was soaked through, exhausted and freezing, yet he couldn’t care less about his physical fatigue as he sprinted hastily across the muddy puddles.
He looked all around. The suburban area on a rainy night was pitch-black, and the streetlights on the main road in the distance blurred into faint specks of light through the mist of rain.
Apart from the pitter-patter of raindrops crashing onto the warehouse roof and the sound of his own nervous swallowing, there was no other sound around his ears.
Lin Xun collected his thoughts, pulled a thin piece of iron wire from his trousers pocket, inserted it into the keyhole, and turned it a few times until the lock clicked open.
The inside of the warehouse was also pitch-black, but he didn’t dare turn on the lights. Feeling his way through several small cubicles in the dark, he finally found Huo Tingxiao—with his hands and feet tied—in a storage room on the second floor.
Having just turned eighteen, Huo Tingxiao was still wearing the tailored suit from last night’s birthday banquet. His hair, once styled with gel, was now disheveled, covering half his face.
Lin Xun rushed over anxiously, brushing aside the stray locks. His eyes, having finally adapted to the dim light, could barely make out Huo Tingxiao’s face.
There were no injuries, just a bit of dust.
Huo Tingxiao’s eyes were closed; he was unconscious. Patting him a few times yielded no response, so Lin Xun had no choice but to untie the ropes first.
The knots were thick and tied tightly; the small pencil-sharpening knife Lin Xun had hurriedly dug out of his backpack before coming was barely adequate.
He sawed forcefully at the rope while calling Huo Tingxiao’s name anxiously.
“Huo Tingxiao! Wake up quickly!”
Under his relentless calling, Huo Tingxiao finally responded, struggling to open his eyelids.
A streak of lightning crawled across the sky, illuminating the young man’s tightly knit brow.
After a few seconds of confusion, as his gaze came into focus, a layer of frost gradually formed over the young man’s pitch-black pupils.
Huo Tingxiao silently watched the wet boy in front of him, who had his head down, sawing fiercely at the ropes with a small knife.
His black hair was messy, droplets constantly dripping from the ends, as if he had just crawled out of a river.
Suddenly, his hands went loose as the rope fell away.
Just as Lin Xun was about to breathe a sigh of relief, a sharp pain shot through his throat—a fine, sharp needle was pressed against his neck.
Huo Tingxiao’s wristwatch was custom-made; with a gentle press on the side crown, the watch hands could be detached for emergencies. Most importantly, the micro-location chip inside the watch case would trigger an alarm the moment the hands were released.
This was a gift his grandfather had just given him last night after turning 18; he hadn’t expected it to come in handy so soon.
Huo Tingxiao looked coldly at the young boy in front of him, demanding: “What scheme are you pulling this time?”
Water from the ends of his hair dripped into his eyes, stinging with pain. Lin Xun blinked his eyelashes and raised both hands: “I came to save you. Will you come with me first? It’s not safe here!”
He looked at Huo Tingxiao with eyes full of sincerity, but unfortunately, the lenses of his black-framed glasses were covered in water droplets, leaving him unsure whether Huo Tingxiao could receive the honesty in his eyes.
Just then, a loud bang echoed from the front door downstairs, and Lin Xun’s expression instantly changed.
With no time left for further explanations, he grabbed Huo Tingxiao’s hand, draped it over his own shoulder, and forcibly hauled him up to head out.
In the chaos, the clasp of Huo Tingxiao’s wristwatch loosened and the watch fell to the ground, but there was no time to search for it.
Having been bound for a day and a night, Huo Tingxiao’s legs were numb and sore. Combined with the lingering effects of the knockout drug, his movements were far less agile than usual.
Lin Xun bore most of his body weight, half-dragging and half-carrying Huo Tingxiao as they leaped down from the second floor.
Thanks to the canopy buffer and the rain-softened earth below, neither of them sustained serious injuries. Crawling up from the ground, they continued to run forward, running shoulder-to-shoulder until they ducked into the woods a hundred meters away.
Lin Xun supported Huo Tingxiao as they veered left and right through the forest, finally finding a thatched shed deep inside the woods.
This was a resting place built by the former owner of the woods; though long abandoned, it could serve as a makeshift shelter from the rain.
Lin Xun took off his jacket and spread it on the ground for Huo Tingxiao to rest. Guarding the entrance, he surveyed his surroundings vigilantly and asked in a low voice, “Do you still have your phone? Call the police or contact your family.”
Receiving no response for a long while, he looked back, meeting the cold, icy eyes of the teenage Huo Tingxiao.
Lin Xun lowered his head guiltily.
Standing face-to-face, they remained silent for a moment before Huo Tingxiao suddenly spoke: “Your neck is bleeding.”
“…Ah, it’s nothing.” Lin Xun touched his neck, awkwardly forcing a smile that he quickly pulled back.
Huo Tingxiao watched him quietly without saying a word.
Having just stepped into his eighteen-year-old adulthood, Huo Tingxiao already carried the intimidating presence of a grown man. Being looked at by him from such close range made Lin Xun’s scalp go numb.
He stole several uneasy glances at Huo Tingxiao, agonizing for a while, yet still failed to organize his words.
He said in a low voice: “I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were going to kidnap you. I shouldn’t have proposed a toast to you; it’s all my fault.”
By the end of his words, Lin Xun’s voice sank even lower, his entire body trembling.
Filled with guilt, Lin Xun lowered his head, taking off his glasses to try wiping the lenses clean with the hem of his shirt. But his clothes were wet; the more he wiped, the dirtier they became, leaving him unable to see clearly no matter what.
Frustrated, he wiped his face with his arm and stepped to the side, speaking no further.
Huo Tingxiao noticed that his palms were covered in blood. Although Lin Xun carelessly wiped the bloodstains against his clothes, faint red blood continued to seep out slowly.
—It was from cutting the ropes in such a hurry earlier; both of his hands had been scraped raw by the rough rope.
Lin Xun curled his hands tight. As the wind blew into the thatched shed, he felt even colder.
He squatted down, hugging his knees and burying his head. Not long after, shouts echoed one after another from outside the shed.
Someone had come searching.
They were calling Huo Tingxiao’s name.
Lin Xun immediately raised his head, instantly alert.
Huo Tingxiao stood at the shed’s entrance, tilting his ear to listen carefully for a moment before suddenly turning his head to look over.
“What do you plan to do?”
Lin Xun blinked in confusion.
Huo Tingxiao asked again: “Does anyone know you came looking for me tonight?”
Lin Xun understood instantly and shook his head right away: “Nobody knows, I was very careful.”
Huo Tingxiao pondered for a brief moment and said, “Then don’t appear together with me. There are too many eyes out there; if they find out, they’ll come looking for trouble with you. Wait until the rain stops before heading back out. Do you know the way?”
Lin Xun felt a bit of sourness in his nose—this was the longest sentence Huo Tingxiao had ever spoken to him.
He nodded lightly and replied: “I know it.”
Huo Tingxiao let out a very soft “mm.” Before leaving the thatched shed, he instructed: “Keep quiet, and protect yourself well.”
At that moment, thunder rolled overhead. Lin Xun froze in place, relishing those words over and over again even after Huo Tingxiao had gone.
Those were the last words spoken between him and Huo Tingxiao.
Lin Xun waited for the rain to stop as promised. After confirming that the surroundings were safe, he carefully made his way out of the woods. But he didn’t hurry home; instead, he waited until night fell once more before returning to that warehouse.
A day had passed. The warehouse had been sealed off by the police department, its main door chained shut with official seal strips attached.
Lin Xun rounded his way under the rain canopy, scrambling up the drainpipe using both hands and feet to climb through the window onto the second floor.
He walked into that narrow storage room, searching blindly on the ground for a long time until he finally found Huo Tingxiao’s dropped wristwatch in a dust-covered corner, along with the blood-stained watch hand.
Lin Xun wiped it clean and brought it home.
He tried to repair it, but the injuries on his neck and hands quickly attracted attention. He was dragged into the living room by his throat by a furious man, forced to kneel on the cold, hard marble floor, enduring interrogation and brutal beatings over and over again.
Lin Xun said nothing at all; his mind was set solely on fixing that watch.
That was the only connection between him and Huo Tingxiao.
Regrettably, the watch could never be repaired in the end. Missing its hand, it remained permanently frozen in that damp, rainy night.
Frozen on the last night he ever saw Huo Tingxiao.
Every time he felt sad or missed him, Lin Xun would take out the watch and carefully wipe it down over and over again, repeatedly relishing the last sentence Huo Tingxiao had spoken to him.
But this time, his hand was empty, devoid of the familiar metallic texture.
Lin Xun sat up abruptly, frantically flipping through the bedding and pillows like mad until his foot stepped on the towel on the floor and he saw that he wasn’t wearing anything—only then did his memory gradually clear up.
He slowly sat back on the bed, pulling the bedsheet over his waist. Lowering his head and closing his eyes, he thudded his head a few times before suddenly throwing himself backward onto the bed with force.
It was over.
Completely over.
Lin Xun flipped over, burying his face in the pillow, wishing he could suffocate himself. After a long moment, he quietly crawled back up and walked into the bathroom.
After taking a shower and changing the bedsheets and duvet cover, Lin Xun opened the room’s window.
That day, the sun was shining brightly outside—a brilliant brightness completely unlike the eighteen-year-old world in his dream.
Lin Xun re-hung the put-away lisianthus upside down in front of the window. In less than a week, he would have a preserved, everlasting dried flower.
He could at least consider it a gift from Huo Tingxiao.
Without that watch… it was fine; after all, it never belonged to him in the first place.
Lin Xun covered his face, taking a deep breath to confirm he was completely awake before opening his door and stepping outside.
Huo Tingxiao was by the pool wearing sunglasses, soaking up the sun.
Lin Xun shuffled over. Hearing the footsteps, Huo Tingxiao said without turning his head, “Awake?”
He sounded like he was smiling, and for some reason, Lin Xun’s face suddenly flushed warm.
He walked to Huo Tingxiao’s side and stood with his head bowed, looking like a well-behaved student standing as punishment for a mistake.
Huo Tingxiao pushed down his sunglasses, looking at him over the top of the lenses.
Lin Xun lowered his head even further, not daring to make eye contact with him.
Huo Tingxiao asked, “Does your head hurt now?”
It actually wasn’t a problem, but Lin Xun still nodded guiltily, secretly hoping to win a few sympathy points with the man.
Sure enough, Huo Tingxiao softened his tone and said to him, “Go to the kitchen and ask Auntie Chen for some soup. She made it specifically to help sober you up.”
Lin Xun stood motionless, stealing a peek at Huo Tingxiao.
Huo Tingxiao was resting his head on his arms, making it impossible to see whether that watch was on his wrist or not.
“What’s wrong?” Huo Tingxiao asked.
Lin Xun hurriedly shook his head, slinking away dejectedly with his tail between his legs.
The corners of Huo Tingxiao’s mouth curved upward. He lay leisurely on the lounger for another ten-odd minutes before leisurely getting up and returning to the main hall.
Lin Xun was standing in the kitchen holding a bowl, coaxed by Auntie Chen into accepting another big scoop of hangover soup.
Huo Tingxiao pulled out a chair and sat at the dining table. Pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head, he propped his head up with one hand to watch him.
Lin Xun turned his head over, and Huo Tingxiao tapped his fingertips twice on the tabletop. Lin Xun obediently brought his bowl over and sat beside him.
There was toasted bread on the table. Huo Tingxiao pushed the jam along with it over to Lin Xun and instructed Auntie Chen to fry two more eggs.
Lin Xun quickly waved his hands, indicating it wasn’t necessary.
Propping his chin up, Huo Tingxiao said, “To replenish your protein.”
Lin Xun didn’t think anything of it at first, but Huo Tingxiao’s fingers, resting casually on the tabletop, triggered his memory. A few shameful scenes flashed rapidly across his mind, nearly causing Lin Xun to choke.
“Eat slowly, it’s all yours.”
Huo Tingxiao poured himself a cup of coffee, taking slow, occasional sips.
After finishing a slice of toast, seeing that Huo Tingxiao still hadn’t left, Lin Xun knew he probably wouldn’t escape a conversation.
Wiping his hands clean, he mustered his courage to look at Huo Tingxiao’s face.
Huo Tingxiao was still propping up his chin, the red marks on his wrist clearly visible.
Lin Xun’s face flushed hot, and he helplessly lowered his head again.
Huo Tingxiao was very patient, quietly waiting for him to speak first.
Lin Xun hadn’t brought his phone, so just as Huo Tingxiao had mentioned last night, he used eye contact and hand gestures to “communicate” with Huo Tingxiao slowly and awkwardly.
“What does this gesture mean? ‘I’m sorry’?”
Huo Tingxiao earnestly played the role of “reading comprehension,” displaying an interest and enjoyment in this inefficient mode of communication that far exceeded Lin Xun’s expectations.
Lin Xun had originally been anxious, but was slowly led astray from his main point by Huo Tingxiao, until the two were actually researching this so-called “pseudo-Morse code.”
Once the gestures for the most commonly used words were established, Huo Tingxiao gesticulated with his fingers.
Silently asking Lin Xun: How much do you remember about last night?
Lin Xun looked at his wrist bone, which had been scratched red, and gestured stiffly: Everything.
Huo Tingxiao smiled softly, praising his honesty.
Lin Xun picked at the corner of the table. A moment later, when he raised his head again, the rims of his eyes still turned uncontrollably red.
He “said” sorry to Huo Tingxiao.
Huo Tingxiao asked, “Why do you always say ‘I’m sorry’ to me?”
Lin Xun froze, not knowing how to express himself.
Huo Tingxiao brought over the nearby tablet computer, unlocked the screen, and pushed it toward Lin Xun.
Lin Xun clenched his fingers and typed out: Because I offended you last night. I am really sorry.
Huo Tingxiao’s brow knit together slightly: “How did you offend me?”
Lin Xun couldn’t type this time, his forehead drooping so low it nearly hit the tabletop.
Huo Tingxiao extended a finger, poking his temple to force him to raise his head and meet his eyes.
“Lin Xun, I don’t like things being unclear, nor do I sleep with just any drunkard.”
Lin Xun looked at him with red-rimmed eyes.
Huo Tingxiao continued, “If someone wakes up the next day with a blackout, or lies about remembering nothing, I will be very angry.”
Lin Xun blinked slowly.
Huo Tingxiao tapped his brow, pulled back his hand, and propped his chin back up as he watched Lin Xun, coaxing him step-by-step: “Now think again—what is it you want to say to me?”
Lin Xun’s heart felt as though it were riding a roller coaster, rising and falling erratically, beating wildly.
After thinking for a long while, he typed out a line on the tablet very earnestly.
[Can you return the watch to me?]
Huo Tingxiao stared at Lin Xun for even longer—so long that an anxious expression resurfaced on Lin Xun’s face before he gave his answer: “No.”
Lin Xun’s eyes flickered a few times, carrying an uneasy and pleading look.
Huo Tingxiao smiled without quite smiling: “There’s no reason to take back something given as a gift.”
[1]
Author’s Note:
Huo Tingxiao: Speak, say you like me. Be braver, say it out loud.
Lin Xun: Please give me back my stuff.
Huo Tingxiao: .
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References[+]
Author’s Note:
Huo Tingxiao: Speak, say you like me. Be braver, say it out loud.
Lin Xun: Please give me back my stuff.
Huo Tingxiao: .
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