Song Xueyan: I am speechless!
The atmosphere turned icy, and the confrontation stretched out in silence until a string of WeChat notifications rang out one after another. Only then did Song Xueyan and Yan Qi tacitly look away from each other.
Yan Qi, like a gentleman turning over a new leaf, took the initiative to step back.
Song Xueyan’s facial muscles relaxed slowly with an almost imperceptible movement. He took the opportunity to take out his phone and saw that Fu Yangle had sent a real-time location, urging him to meet up; the messages were as persistent as a death warrant.
After reading them, Song Xueyan lowered his arm, and his rationality returned in full. He looked up at Yan Qi and said, “If I have offended you, I deeply apologize.”
Yan Qi had a gut feeling that this sentence wasn’t finished.
Sure enough, Song Xueyan continued: “However, this is a race. I am a spectator in the stands. I watch the race, and I watch the people in the race. You are the most dazzling presence tonight; it is only natural that my gaze follows you.”
He paused and asked in confusion, “If I don’t look at you, should I be looking at someone else?”
Yan Qi’s eyelids twitched. He seemed not to have expected Song Xueyan to praise him so unreservedly and to speak so clearly and directly.
The discomfort of being watched by Song Xueyan, the strange perception of Song Xueyan’s gaze, the irritability of not being able to fathom Song Xueyan all the odd emotions caused by Song Xueyan disintegrated in this instant, unexpectedly transforming into a strange sense of satisfaction.
Yan Qi rubbed his nose, and the frigid aura on him suddenly dissipated. His expression was a bit unnatural, and his tone softened, “Fine, what you said makes too much sense.”
Song Xueyan chuckled, letting out a breathy, half-amused sound.
Yan Qi “coughed.” He was like a dog that hummed with pleasure after being petted; it felt good, but it was too easy, which made him feel like he had lost face—his “dog life” no longer felt glorious.
But he already praised you, what else do you want?
Yan Qi stiffened his face, turned to look at the shower room, and reached out to take off his gloves. But the gloves had been soaked in sweat and were stuck to his skin. He didn’t manage to pull them off on the first try, which made his expression sink further. He tugged forcefully, causing the glove to snap back and slap against the back of his hand.
“Sh—” A hand suddenly appeared in his line of sight. Song Xueyan reached out to support his palm and used his thumb and other hand to help him remove the gloves.
Yan Qi stopped mid-expletive, his whole body tense, standing still like a dull tree spirit wrapped in black leather. He was half-surprised and half-flustered, letting this “wooden stick” of a person, who radiated a faint floral scent, scratch lightly at his hands.
Wait, camellia and agarwood!
Yan Qi finally remembered where that familiar scent on Song Xueyan came from. This was clearly the incense that Yangle-ge had specifically asked Ms. Qi to blend by hand—it was one of a kind in the world, and he had been the one to personally bring it to Nandu.
Fu Yangle loved roses the most, but this specific floral material was camellia; it turned out he had given it to Song Xueyan.
Yan Qi looked at Song Xueyan’s fuzzy crown and couldn’t understand how these two polar-opposite people managed to get along.
Song Xueyan hung his head, folded the cuff of the glove outward twice, pinched the fabric at both ends of the palm, and pulled gently. When it reached the finger joints, the reddened back of the hand was fully exposed. At an angle Yan Qi couldn’t see, Song Xueyan pursed his lips tightly.
Seeing Song Xueyan suddenly stop, Yan Qi couldn’t help but look down, but he couldn’t see Song Xueyan’s eyes, so he had to say, “Keep pulling.”
Song Xueyan came back to his senses and said without looking up, “Enjoying the service?”
Yan Qi retorted, “Being served by Teacher Song is definitely comfortable.”
“Oh, you looked so dazed, I thought you were embarrassed,” Song Xueyan said, taking off the glove, smoothing it out by habit, and handing it to Yan Qi.
Yan Qi quickly took the gloves and said stubbornly, “Today’s Teacher Song is much more refined than the previous Teacher Song.”
He was referring to the time during the screen test.
Song Xueyan remained unflustered, “I helped you, say thank you.”
Yan Qi: “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Song Xueyan glanced at him, said no more, turned, and left the restroom.
Yan Qi stood in place clutching the gloves, the sight of Song Xueyan confronting him still lingering, and the memory of that previously “thorny” look playing in his mind. He pondered for a few seconds, then suddenly walked quickly out of the restroom and said to Song Xueyan’s retreating back, “Hey, don’t tell me it really was me who made you unhappy?”
Song Xueyan had already walked some distance; he turned his head upon hearing this, “On what grounds would you make me unhappy?”
So arrogant. Yan Qi sneered, “Do you want me to voice those unspeakable little thoughts in your heart?”
The metaphorical zither playing in Song Xueyan’s heart suddenly tightened, emitting a sharp “zila” sound. He looked at Yan Qi’s “don’t pretend, I see through you” expression and asked, unperturbed, “Then tell me, what unspeakable little thoughts could I possibly have about you?”
Yan Qi flicked the gloves, raised his chin slightly, crossed his arms, and squinted at him, exposing him: “You’re jealous of me.”
“Uh…” The zither strings suddenly returned to calmness, not a single vibration remaining.
Song Xueyan was genuinely confused, “Please, do enlighten me.”
In Yan Qi’s view, this appearance was just being stubborn. He couldn’t help but take a step forward, his tone as certain as a bronze bell, “Jealous that I’m good at racing, obviously. I think this look of yours like stagnant water is all an act. Is there a beast full of desire and greed hiding in your heart? You watch me speeding on the track, you watch me win first place and become the focus of the whole audience, and you must really want to be that unbridled and indulgent once, right? But your mask has already merged seamlessly with you, so you can only watch me silently, occasionally adding some shallots, ginger, garlic, and chives into your gaze, wanting to prick me and burn me to death, right?”
After finishing, he specifically laughed to add a vivid touch of encouragement to his long-winded argument.
“Uh…” Song Xueyan’s mouth opened slightly, then closed again. How did he manage to get all the keywords and focus points wrong, yet guess the majority of the emotions right?
He was truly impressed.
Seeing Song Xueyan speechless, with an expression of wanting to say something but not knowing how to describe it, and clearly struggling to craft his words, Yan Qi guessed that he was nine-out-of-ten correct; this little “fake person” was busy struggling with his wording.
His secret joy was impossible to suppress; it surged from the bottom of his heart to his face, making him beam with delight, “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being jealous of me, but just being jealous is useless. Why not turn this emotion into motivation to urge yourself to change and bravely be your true self?”
“Idiot.” Song Xueyan finally managed to polish those two words and generously added a short comment, “What a naturally occurring idiot.”
With that, he turned and left, his back practically radiating, “I’m so speechless.”
“Huh?” Yan Qi was stunned, “Why are you still name-calling!”
Fu Yangle had been chatting on his phone from the stands all the way to the entrance of the stadium. Later, finding typing too tiring, he simply started a voice call with Yu Jingchen.
Song Xueyan’s figure appeared at the end of his line of sight. Fu Yangle stretched and said, “My baby has finally crawled out of the restroom; I’m hanging up now.”
The sound of typing on a keyboard suddenly ceased, and a clear, magnetic voice asked, “Song Xueyan is your baby, then what am I?”
“You are my big baby.” Fu Yangle emphasized the word “big,” his tone sounding anything but serious.
Yu Jingchen: “Oh.”
“Oh, what? Don’t you like this nickname?” Fu Yangle leaned against the car, being cheeky, “Then should I call you little baby?”
Yu Jingchen chuckled, “As long as you can bring yourself to say it.”
Fu Yangle feigned seriousness, “I don’t think that works; we have to be realistic in what we say and do.”
As Song Xueyan walked closer, his expression became entirely clear. Fu Yangle suddenly let out an “Eh,” his voice rising at the end as if he had discovered some novel phenomenon.
Yu Jingchen on the other end of the call asked about it, but Fu Yangle said it was nothing, gave a sweet goodbye, and hung up only after waiting for Yu Jingchen’s reply.
He spun around with his phone. When Song Xueyan walked closer, he suddenly stepped forward to loosely wrap his arms around the other man’s waist, turned, and pinned Song Xueyan against the car body.
Song Xueyan came to his senses and looked up, “Messing with me?”
“Who would dare?” Fu Yangle stared at him, as if he had been possessed by Conan, “Something is wrong with you.”
Song Xueyan reached out to tidy the hair hanging on his shoulders, his tone natural, showing not the slightest hint of a guilty conscience, “Everything is very right.”
Fu Yangle’s eyes were sharp, “Then, on the way over here just now, what were you smiling about while you were spacing out?”
Song Xueyan calmly advised, “Your eyes are failing you.”
“Really?” Fu Yangle stared at Song Xueyan with suspicion. Seeing how determined the other looked, he couldn’t help but lean back, “Then… should I go to the hospital for a check-up tomorrow?”
The two were goofing around in front of the car and didn’t notice someone coming out of the entrance.
“Handsome, handsome, handsome bold brows and big eyes, long arms and long legs, a good man. I’m handsome, I’m so handsome…”
Wang Yuchuan came out of the stadium in a good mood, planning to get his hands on Yan Qi’s beloved bike and ride it intimately. Who knew that as soon as he looked up, he would spot those two men in the distance.
He stopped in his tracks, noting that the convertible sports car was quite flashy—it was Fu Yangle’s new ride. Then, squinting his eyes, he noticed that the man with his back to him was also quite flashy it was Fu Yangle.
At that moment, Fu Yangle turned slightly, revealing the man he was pinning against the car. He looked so fair and pretty.
Wang Yuchuan gasped, and before his brain could react, the phone in his hand was already raised. With a tap, he snapped a photo of this dangerous and stimulating scene, feeling an overflowing sense of responsibility and concern as he sent it to Yu Jingchen’s younger brother.