“Actually…”
Watching the person before him, lips moving in a vivid red, hands clutching tightly at his sleeve.
“What?”
Yan Jiayu’s voice was gentle, coaxing patiently.
“Actually, I’m an alien.”
“…”
With that, Song Xun drifted off into a deep, unresponsive sleep, only the steady rhythm of his breathing audible.
Yan Jiayu’s face darkened. If he believed another word from Song Xun, he’d be a fool.
The assistant couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter. This Song Xun, usually so haughty and annoying, turned out to be quite amusing when drunk.
“Funny, is it?”
The assistant quickly shook his head. “Not funny, not funny at all.”
He still needed to keep his job, after all—the pay was quite good. Better to give the boss some face.
The banquet venue wasn’t far from Song Xun’s apartment, and soon they arrived at the entrance of the residential complex.
The security guard was dozing off, occasionally interrupted by sharp, somewhat ambiguous cat cries nearby—likely stray cats in heat.
“Let’s go.”
Yan Jiayu helped Song Xun out of the car. The guard, stirred by the flicker of the headlights, rubbed his eyes and woke up.
He saw two figures approaching in the distance. One was a resident of the complex, while the other, tall and imposing, was unfamiliar.
Song Xun suddenly opened his eyes. Thinking he had sobered up, Yan Jiayu was about to ask if he could make it back on his own when Song Xun staggered over to the guard booth. “Uncle! Someone’s littering here!”
The guard instantly perked up!
“Who?! Where?!”
Song Xun pointed dramatically at Yan Jiayu, his expression righteous. “Him!”
Yan Jiayu stared in disbelief, his handsome face a picture of shock. The guard, filled with righteous indignation, emerged with a baton, his gaze practically scanning Yan Jiayu as if ready to fire.
Yan Jiayu didn’t even have time to react and defend himself.
The guard, hands on hips, eyed the tall man with confusion. Such a good-looking young man, yet capable of such immoral behavior—truly, appearances can be deceiving!
“Where’s the litter? Show me!”
He then turned to Song Xun beside him, hitching up his pants, ready for action.
To his surprise, Song Xun pointed at himself, earnestly declaring, “Here! Right here!”
“…Wait, you… you can’t just…”
The guard stammered, scratching his head awkwardly. Yan Jiayu couldn’t bear to watch any longer. He told his assistant to wait below, then walked over to the guard to explain.
“Sorry about that, he’s had a few drinks,”
Yan Jiayu then pointed to his own head. “He’s a bit off up here.”
He gave the guard a meaningful look, and the guard understood. He had been hoping for some action, only to be disappointed.
“No problem, no problem. But if he’s drunk, he shouldn’t be wandering around. It’s easy to get into trouble.”
“Understood, understood. I’ll take him home right away.”
With that, Yan Jiayu dragged the swaying Song Xun toward the address he had given.
Along the way, Song Xun was restless, overly energetic.
Curious about everything, he wanted to touch it all.
“Don’t touch that! It’s bird droppings!”
Yan Jiayu was on the verge of a breakdown. Left with no choice, he tightly wrapped his arms around Song Xun and dragged him home.
“Fingerprint unlock successful.”
As soon as the door opened, Yan Jiayu hauled Song Xun onto the sofa.
He glanced around and noticed Song Xun’s home was clean. Though not particularly tidy, it felt warm and cozy, clearly reflecting the owner’s casual lifestyle.
Yan Jiayu walked over to the coffee table, poured a glass of water, and handed it to Song Xun. He noticed Song Xun frowning deeply, covering his mouth, looking as if he might vomit at any moment.
Startled, Yan Jiayu quickly helped Song Xun up.
“Don’t throw up yet. I’ll take you to the bathroom.”
Unexpectedly, Song Xun shook his head, said nothing, and didn’t vomit. Instead, he leaned back on the sofa in a daze, blinking occasionally, unusually quiet.
Several buttons on his shirt had come undone at some point, revealing a large expanse of his chest, pale and smooth.
“Yan Jiayu.”
“Yes, I’m here.”
Yan Jiayu sat beside him, watching him. His ears flushed slightly, and he felt inexplicably thirsty. He averted his gaze and responded to Song Xun.
“You and Mu Heng are really a perfect match. You two must be together.”
“Huh? Who?”
At first, Yan Jiayu thought Song Xun was talking nonsense, but for some reason, he had mentioned another person—someone Yan Jiayu actually knew.
He wasn’t particularly close to Mu Heng. He simply thought of him as a promising junior, diligent and serious about acting—a rare talent. But what did Song Xun mean by this?
Before Yan Jiayu could react, Song Xun grabbed his hands and stared intently at him.
“You must treat him well, okay? Don’t keep misunderstanding each other. It’s too hard… wuwu~”
The warm, fervent hands covering his own made Yan Jiayu’s heart skip a beat. Still, he forced himself to stay calm and replied earnestly, “No, we don’t have that kind of relationship.”
Song Xun shook his head, seemingly dissatisfied with this answer. He let go of Yan Jiayu’s hands with an air of righteous indignation. “No! I don’t agree!”
Yan Jiayu felt a pang of regret as the warmth on his hands quickly faded. Instead of responding, he told Song Xun to go to bed early and that he should leave.
“Okay, you can go.”
Song Xun waved his hand, tilting his face up with a silly grin.
Yan Jiayu wasn’t entirely at ease, but glancing at the time, it was getting late. Just as he turned to leave, he heard a loud thud.
Looking back, he saw Song Xun had fallen flat on his bottom, looking pitiful and aggrieved.
“Ah,” Yan Jiayu sighed. He sent a message to his assistant, telling him to go back first and pick him up tomorrow. Then, he turned around to help Song Xun up.
“I really don’t know what to do with you.”
Reluctantly, Yan Jiayu decided to stay.
He told Song Xun to go back to his room and sleep, but the little drunkard insisted on taking a bath. He even walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a clean set of pajamas.
Yan Jiayu hurriedly stopped him, worried he might have an accident in the bath. “Don’t shower tonight. You can do it tomorrow.”
“No, no, I feel so dirty.”
“You’re not dirty at all. You’re perfectly clean. How about skipping the bath?”
He had never been this patient with anyone before. Even with his mischievous nephew, he preferred action over words.
But Song Xun wouldn’t listen, stubbornly insisting on going in. No matter how hard Yan Jiayu tried to stop him, he couldn’t hold him back. At one point, Yan Jiayu even tried to scoop him up by the waist, but Song Xun slipped away as smoothly as an eel.
It must be something I owed him in a past life.
With no other choice, Yan Jiayu negotiated with him: don’t lock the door, don’t take too long, and call if anything happens. Surprisingly, Song Xun nodded obediently.
The sound of running water slowly filled the air, and steam began to fog up the frosted glass door, forming droplets of varying sizes.
Though summer had just begun, Yan Jiayu already felt a bit warm. He picked up a tissue from the coffee table, wiping away nonexistent sweat, his phone in hand yet still dark and silent.
A cool breeze suddenly swept through, carrying the faint, distant chirping of cicadas.
Click.
The door opened.
A wave of steam drifted out from the bathroom.
Song Xun emerged, eyes half-open and half-closed, legs unsteady as he instinctively headed toward the bedroom.
Yan Jiayu followed him, noticing the haphazardly buttoned pajamas. He reached out to fix them.
His fingers were cool, while Song Xun, fresh from the shower, radiated warmth. The sudden chill made Song Xun flinch, instinctively stepping back—only to find his bed right behind him. He tumbled backward, pulling the person in front of him down with him.
“!”
The room fell into silence, a subtle tension lingering in the air, even their breaths carrying a hint of ambiguity.
Yan Jiayu lay atop Song Xun, their faces close—so close he could smell the scent of Song Xun’s body wash. It was sweet, a fragrance he’d never liked before, finding it cloying. Yet now, inexplicably, it smelled pleasant.
Just as he was about to call Song Xun’s name, he realized Song Xun had fallen asleep the moment he touched the bed, as if slipping into unconsciousness.
Had he been awake, he would have surely felt the intense heartbeat of the person above him.
Yan Jiayu quickly got up, lifted Song Xun, placed him in the center of the bed, and covered him with the blanket. Almost as if bewitched, he gently touched the sleeping man’s face—smooth as silk, long eyelashes fluttering slightly, resting peacefully.
“Good night.”
Early the next morning, the chirping of birds outside grew so noisy that Song Xun instinctively grabbed his pillow to cover his ears. He didn’t know how much time had passed when his phone rang, jolting him awake. Unable to fall back asleep, he picked up the call.
“Hello?”
On the other end, Sister Zhang spoke with earnest concern, informing Song Xun that the next recording would require staying in the dormitory for a few days. The production team wanted to capture some everyday moments, and knowing Song Xun’s particular habits, she worried he might hesitate or refuse. She had already prepared several arguments to persuade him.
To her surprise, Song Xun agreed without any objections.
Relieved, Sister Zhang asked about the previous night’s banquet and whether he had met Mr. Jin.
Song Xun sat up, thinking it over. He had indeed met the investor, Mr. Jin. The man was decent-looking but came across as somewhat greasy—not really his type.
“And afterward? Did you drink? Xiao Deng mentioned you went alone yesterday. How did you get home?”
Song Xun was about to answer when it suddenly dawned on him—how did he get home?
His tendency to black out after drinking was a consistent flaw, no matter the occasion. Glancing down, he noticed he was wearing different clothes. He must have taken a shower in his dazed state, but how he made it home remained a complete blank.
After hanging up, Song Xun threw off the covers and got up, searching for his slippers but finding no trace of them. Giving up, he headed to the living room, parched and in need of water. To his surprise, a breakfast was laid out on the table.
“?!”
A bowl of warm porridge.
After washing up, he picked up a spoon and took a sip. It was rather plain but surprisingly tasty.
Buzz.
His phone vibrated.
Song Xun glanced at the screen—it was a message from Yan Jiayu. But hadn’t he been blocked?
[Yan Jiayu: Are you awake?]
[Song Xun: Yes, thank you for your concern, Teacher Yan.]
[Yan Jiayu: You drank yesterday, so it’s better to eat something light today. I bought you some porridge, remember to have it.]
!
Song Xun paused. This porridge was actually bought by Yan Jiayu. Did he bring me back yesterday?
He sent a message to ask, and sure enough, it was indeed him.
[Yan Jiayu: Do you remember what happened yesterday?]
He had no recollection at all, so he answered honestly, saying he blacks out after drinking and thanked Teacher Yan for taking care of him.
Unexpectedly, it took a long time for the other side to reply.
[Yan Jiayu: Oh, then you should drink less in the future.]
The tone was inexplicably cold.
Could it be that he did something offensive to Yan Jiayu while drunk yesterday?!
[Song Xun: I didn’t do anything offensive to you yesterday, did I?]
[Yan Jiayu: No, don’t overthink it.]
[Song Xun: I really troubled you.]
After that, Yan Jiayu didn’t reply to his messages again.
“This expression can be a bit more terrified, but you can’t be completely scared. There needs to be a strong survival instinct in your eyes.”
Jian Mo held the just-recorded clip and discussed it with Song Xun.
Song Xun nodded, indicating he understood.
He only had one scene left, but it was particularly important, so Jian Mo wanted to shoot a few more takes. Song Xun agreed.
During the break on set, he was holding the milk tea Xiao Deng bought for him. Just as he took a sip, Xiao Deng hurriedly ran in, panting heavily.
“Brother Song, there’s a man outside dressed very flamboyantly, holding a huge bouquet of roses, saying he’s here to see you.”