Xie Wenxing rushed back to the dormitory in a hurry, slammed the door shut behind him, and leaned against it, breathing heavily.
Hearing the commotion, Song Yuan poked his head out from his bunk. “Xingxing, why were you running so fast? What happened? If you’d been any later, I was about to go look for you.”
Xie Wenxing tried to steady his breathing. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was too dry to get a single word out.
He quickly walked over to the desk and downed half a bottle of water. The liquid soothed his parched throat, and only then did he feel like he could breathe again.
He made up a casual excuse to brush off Song Yuan’s concern and sat at his desk, staring blankly into space.
It wasn’t until he reached for a book at random that he noticed, aside from his legs trembling from running too fast, his hands were shaking badly too.
No.
Actually, his whole body was trembling, faintly but unmistakably. His entire being, body and heart, was still vibrating from what had happened tonight.
He had sat in Xu Huai’an’s seat. He had touched his things, like some kind of… some kind of obsessed weirdo, just to feel his presence.
“Ah!”
Xie Wenxing covered his face, feeling like he could never show it again.
The only saving grace was that the classroom had been empty at the time. No one had seen him cross that line, act in a way that defied reason, that was utterly abnormal.
The next moment, the image of those rippling, defined abdominal muscles flashed into his mind.
He hadn’t realized it before, but now, thinking back, Xie Wenxing found that he could clearly even recall the beads of sweat hanging from Xu Huai’an’s chin.
This feeling was so strange.
The warm breath from his mouth was trapped by his palms, making his cheeks burn even hotter. Through the gaps between his fingers, his eyes glistened, filled with a bashful, inexplicable timidity.
Suddenly, he lifted the hem of his shirt and poked his own soft stomach.
Xie Wenxing wasn’t fat at all. On the contrary, he was on the slimmer side compared to most people. His waistline was defined, with little flesh and no visible muscles. But if he tensed his stomach, he could barely make out a hint of abdominal definition.
Without proper training, though, the moment he relaxed, it all disappeared.
“Damn! This idiot, do they even know how to play?! Fuck! Can’t even land a skill right. I die, and they show up late. Just feeding one by one. What a bunch of geniuses!”
Song Yuan’s angry outburst snapped Xie Wenxing back to reality.
The school only collected phones during class hours; they were returned to students after class.
Of course, some students would prepare two phones, one to hand in and one to play with. After all, most students attending this school came from well-off families.
Xie Wenxing recognized the game Song Yuan was playing: Honor of Kings.
He usually played it too, but like Song Yuan, he fell into the category of being bad at it yet still loving to play.
Letting out a breath, Xie Wenxing chimed in with a few casual remarks.
The dorm had its own bathroom. Xie Wenxing showered even faster than usual and had just gotten into bed when the lights went out.
The sound of Song Yuan’s discontented muttering gradually faded. Xie Wenxing loosened the fist he had been holding against his chest and stared at the ceiling. The glimpse of that moment from tonight kept replaying in his mind, and before he knew it, he had drifted off to sleep.
In the middle of the night, a hazy silver moonlight filtered through the window.
“Mmm.”
A soft groan broke the silence.
Following the sound, the boy on the bed was lying on his side, his cheeks tinged with a delicate pink, even softer than peach blossoms in bloom. His pale pink lips were slightly parted, exhaling warm, quickened breaths. A faint furrow formed between his brows, as if he was lost in some unspeakable dream.
The summer heat had prompted them to turn on the air conditioner in the dorm.
His slender, pale legs clutched at the blanket, rubbing against the soft fabric with a subtle, almost shy movement. After what felt like an eternity, his small, bun-like toes curled tightly, his arches tensed, and Xie Wenxing let out a heavy sigh as his brow relaxed, slipping into a deep sleep.
The next morning, the first thing Xie Wenxing noticed was that something felt off.
His pants were damp.
Soon after, fragments of last night’s dream came back to him. The details were hazy, but even the few images he could recall left him at a loss.
In the dream, he had been lying in bed. Xu Huai’an had approached him, lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing those tantalizing abdominal muscles, and asked if he wanted to touch them.
Xie Wenxing let out a muffled scream into his blanket, overwhelmed by an indescribable sense of shame. He was so flustered that he didn’t even notice the rosy tint at the corners of his eyes or the joyful smile tugging at his lips.
Before Song Yuan woke up, he stealthily got up to eliminate the evidence.
He had never done laundry before and had no idea how. Throwing the pants away felt too embarrassing, so he had no choice but to grit his teeth and try scrubbing them with body wash.
He had no intention of keeping them, just looking at them made him feel too embarrassed. So after wringing them dry, he stuffed them to the very bottom of the trash can.
By the time he finished all that, Song Yuan was just rubbing his eyes and getting out of bed. “Xingxing, why are you up so early today?”
“I just woke up, that’s all. Hurry up, or we’ll be late.”
Fortunately, Song Yuan’s eyes were still too bleary to notice the brief flicker of unease that crossed Xie Wenxing’s face as he lowered his head.
Because of this little incident, Xie Wenxing nearly arrived late for morning reading.
He and Song Yuan made it to the classroom just before the bell rang. They had barely sat down when their homeroom teacher, Chen Yan, walked in.
Xie Wenxing took out his textbook and began reading aloud to memorize the content. In previous days, he would have secretly glanced behind him, but today he sat with his back straight, not even turning his neck once.
Xu Huai’an had an English book open on his desk. Leaning against the window, he rested his chin on one hand, his eyes half-lidded and lazily open, the downturned corners making his gaze appear even more narrow and indifferent.
Their homeroom teacher came down from the podium to walk around the room. Zhou Yuan had been buried in his book when he suddenly felt a kick to his leg.
He let out a small yelp of pain and was about to ask Xu Huai’an why he had kicked him when he looked up and saw the teacher slowly approaching. Quick as lightning, Zhou Yuan flipped open his textbook. After the teacher passed, he revealed the phone hidden underneath, rubbed his kicked shin, and said to Xu Huai’an, “Thanks, Brother Huai. But next time, could you kick a little lighter?”
Xu Huai’an hadn’t intended to respond, but when he noticed someone’s ears twitch, his thin lips parted slightly. “Next time, let the teacher confiscate your phone instead.”
It was early morning, perhaps not long after waking up, so his voice was a little deep and raspy, carrying a hint of lazy drowsiness if one listened closely.
Xie Wenxing’s jade-like ears seemed to tingle as they twitched, the tips tinged with a faint blush.
Wuwuwu, his voice is so nice!
Zhou Yuan immediately begged for mercy. “Hey, hey, don’t do that! What right do I have to make demands? Whatever you say, whatever you say.”
Xu Huai’an let out a cold “ha,” his tone icy.
But then, as if he had heard something, his expression softened slightly.
For most of the morning, three whole class periods—Xie Wenxing looked like the model student, exceptionally focused and attentive in class.
His gaze shifted only between the blackboard and his textbook. Even Song Yuan couldn’t help but marvel that his friend had truly resolved to study hard and make progress every day.
Yet the deeper reason behind it was far more private and difficult to admit.
The confusion of adolescence left Xie Wenxing at a loss, and his first instinct was to avoid.
So he stopped secretly watching Xu Huai’an. He no longer stole glances at him.
If Xu Huai’an didn’t have the ability to read people’s thoughts, he would have assumed Xie Wenxing was just caught up in a fleeting infatuation, drawn in temporarily by his appearance and voice, only to quickly lose interest once the initial excitement faded.
But precisely because he possessed this unique ability, to discern the true thoughts and feelings of those around him, he knew that beneath Xie Wenxing’s composed facade lay a whirlwind of fluster, embarrassment, and uncertainty.
Xu Huai’an had encountered all kinds of people, those filled with malice, exploitation, jealousy, disgust.
But someone like Xie Wenxing? That was a first.
He was like a timid rabbit, cautiously observing from a distance. The moment he sensed anything unusual, he would instantly tense up and dart away.
For the first time, Xu Huai’an felt a flicker of anticipation.
Xie Wenxing’s pen accidentally fell to the floor. As he bent down to pick it up, despite his best efforts to avoid it, he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger for two seconds on Xu Huai’an’s straight, defined nose.
He turned back to face his desk, staring at his textbook, but inwardly, he was wailing.
Wuwuwu, why did I have to have such a weird dream?
Now, every time he saw Xu Huai’an, he couldn’t help but think back to those words in the dream: Want to touch it? Only you get to touch it.
Knowing that the person in question was sitting right behind him, completely unaware—
Xie Wenxing buried his face in his hands, his feet scuffling against the floor, his whole body radiating a mix of panic and yearning.
His movements were a bit too big, and he accidentally bumped into Zhou Yuan’s desk, nearly knocking over his water.
Zhou Yuan muttered quietly, “Hey, watch it.”
Snapping back to reality, Xie Wenxing quickly apologized.
After class, Xie Wenxing went to the restroom. As he came out, he shook the water off his hands. Looking up, he saw Xu Huai’an walking toward him.
Xie Wenxing’s heart skipped a beat, and a flash of guilt crossed his face.
Did he find out about the dream I had last night?
The next moment, he immediately realized how absurd that thought was, there was no way.
Sure enough, Xu Huai’an wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t here for him.
The tension in Xie Wenxing’s chest instantly dissolved. But along with the relief came a faint sense of disappointment.
Afraid that seeing Xu Huai’an might trigger another inappropriate thought, he tilted his head slightly and looked out at the small potted plants hanging along the corridor.
Because he wasn’t watching where he was going, he accidentally bumped into Xu Huai’an’s shoulder as they passed.
Xie Wenxing immediately averted his gaze, lowered his eyes, and murmured an apology. “Sorry.”
Staring at Xu Huai’an’s clean sneakers, Xie Wenxing felt the spot where their shoulders had made contact tingle with a faint, lingering heat.
Ahhh! I bumped into him! I’m never washing this shirt for half a month!!!
His heart pounded erratically with excitement.
Yet on the surface, he remained calm, even showing a hint of shyness.
Xu Huai’an raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. “It’s fine.”
With that, he continued walking. A few steps later, he paused and said in a light tone, “Next time, watch where you’re going.”
This was just the hallway. If it had been the stairs, a fall could have been much worse.
Xie Wenxing nodded eagerly, “Mm, mm,” then dashed into the classroom like the wind. As soon as he reached his seat, he collapsed onto his desk.
His face was heating up rapidly, the warmth of his breath bouncing back from the desktop onto his cheeks.
Out in the hallway, Zhou Yuan had gone downstairs to borrow a novel from Zhao Xu’s class. When he returned, he saw Xu Huai’an standing at the stairwell and asked, “What are you looking at?”
Xu Huai’an withdrew his gaze, his eyes narrowing into a thin line, the delicate veins in his eyelids faintly visible. “A rabbit.”
Zhou Yuan looked around. “A rabbit again? I don’t see anything. Brother Huai, seriously, are you messing with me?”
Xu Huai’an let out an ambiguous grunt and walked away with a light step, ignoring Zhou Yuan’s repeated questions.