Jiang Yu had imagined many reactions from Yu Shiqing but never that Yu would want to “keep distance.” He stared, asking, “Why keep distance?”
Yu hadn’t answered yet. Jiang Yu tried again: “Is our relationship shameful?”
Slightly exasperated, Yu replied, “You know that’s not what I mean.”
Jiang Yu stood by the bed without looking back. “Then what do you mean?” he asked.
Yu walked over; voice softer than before: “It’s just a suggestion. We can discuss it if you don’t agree.”
Jiang Yu met his eyes briefly, then looked away. “You’re not discussing you’re telling me your decision,” he said.
Sitting next to him, Yu explained: “Keeping distance is the safest. All their edited clips show our interactions. If we reduce the footage, fans won’t have material to twist.”
Jiang Yu glared at him, expression unreadable. Yu softened: “What do you want me to do? I’ll do it.”
After a long stare, Jiang Yu said, “Nothing. Let things stay as they are.”
Yu’s brow lifted. Jiang Yu continued, “You’re overthinking this. I know what worries you but you don’t follow social media. Hype about onscreen couples is normal: it’s fans’ emotional support, not about sexuality.”
He pointed out: “Many stars have fan-paired accounts. Before the show, I never met Ji Chen, but fans already paired us.” He didn’t mention that management had quietly shut that down.
Yu seemed thoughtful. Ji Chen was also an alpha; if this is typical of fans online, there’s no need to take it so seriously. Besides, rooms had already been assigned: upstairs was Xi Mingjie, and the only remaining option was the tiled house an obvious, intentional setup that would spark questions.
Sensing this, Jiang Yu pressed on: “That couple’s fan forum is trending now. If you suddenly distance from me, people will think we’re hiding something.”
He leaned in, watching Yu’s face for a reaction. “Or do you actually feel something and want to avoid rumors?”
The gap between them closed. Yu’s reflection in Jiang Yu’s deep eyes seemed to replay yesterday’s tension: same look, but colder, less clarity, more heat.
“Yu Shiqing?” Jiang Yu probed.
Yu looked away and slowly stood. His profile in the dim light was sharp and distant; his dark eyes cool. Jiang Yu’s fingers tightened.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice tense.
Yu paused, then replied softly, “We’ll do as you said.” Just that?
Jiang Yu pressed his lips together, then stood. Yu continued without turning: “And in future, no more jokes.”
Jiang Yu recalled how Yu joked with Ren Bai on the phone, and how Yu’s reaction today was unlike before. He never minded closeness or teasing—until now. No more jokes. Keeping distance. Yu must now accept same-sex closeness. But it didn’t seem like avoidance.
So…
A spark in Jiang Yu’s eyes curved his lips.
Yu hung up and placed his phone on the desk when Jiang Yu’s voice came from behind: “Go take a shower?”
Yu replied: “Yes.”
The mid-July heat and a day of travel, plus rowing in the afternoon, had left him lightly sweaty. Thankfully, summer made washing easy. Here, there was no bathtub only a round antique-style wooden tub. Yu pressed a hand to its rim and asked from the doorway: “Need help?”
Yu pressed a glance but declined: “No.” Then Jiang Yu added, “Are you sure? The floor’s slippery.”
Yu rolled his eyes and smiled, then closed the door behind him.
After a while, Jiang Yu reemerged. Steam billowed, and Jiang Yu toweled off water beading on his neck. He wore only thin sleeping shorts; damp traces glistened in the mist and light.
Yu back at the script table he paused at the sight. “Where’s your pajama top?”
Jiang Yu’s tone shifted: “You didn’t turn on the AC? It’s so hot?”
Yu checked the thermostat 21 °C. “Remote’s on the desk.”
Jiang Yu reached for it and dropped the temperature to 16 °C.
Yu said, “Put your pajamas on.”
Switching topics, he added, “Let me help you lie down.”
Jiang Yu closed his script and moved forward.
“You sleep on the edge,” Jiang Yu said, “It’s more convenient.”
Yu answered: “Okay.”
Jiang Yu laid down, and Yu placed a pillow under his injured arm before turning the lights off and slipping onto the bed beside him. In the hush, they kept eyes open.
After a while, Jiang Yu felt body warmth inching closer beneath the covers. Next a sudden pressure, skin touching his own. His eyes opened wide.
“Jiang Yu?” he whispered. Jiang Yu wrapped an arm around Yu’s chest. “Are you cold?”
Yu turned to him. “Are you hot or cold?”
“Hot before,” Jiang Yu said calmly. “Cold now.”
Yu rose. “I’ll get the remote.” But after a moment came back with no top on, pressing close again, head under the blanket covering half his face.
“Really that cold?” Yu brushed past.
“Yes,” Jiang Yu mumbled. Then Yu hesitated only a moment before wrapping Yu against his chest and whispering, “Sleep.”
Jiang Yu stiffened at first, then relaxed. “Okay.”
The next morning, both got up. Staff reminded them before starting the live stream. Jiang Yu lifted the cloth covering his camera, but Yu saw neck bite marks first.
“Hold on,” Yu said, pulling out a patch from luggage. “Come here.”
It clicked he’d meant to hide his mark, too. The live chat viewers began panicking:
Chat:
“Patch? Patch what? If you’ve got it, show us!”
“We were so close! Why hide it from camera?”
By the time the camera revealed them, both patches hid their marks. The chat moaned in disappointment. Then, as they changed clothes, new observations surfaced:
Chat:
“Wait, their pajamas? One all black, one all white matching set?”
“They’ve been wearing couple pajamas since Episode One!”
“OMG, Yuguo Tianqing total ship!”
Onscreen, Yu Shiqing and Jiang Yu had changed and gathered in the courtyard with other contestants. Xu Mingjie and Zhu Yulan were next, and then in came Wei Yuanju and Ji Chen. Seeing Yu and Jiang Yu, they all greeted them warmly.
“Morning, Yu‑brother, Jiang‑brother.”
Yu replied, “Good morning.” They walked toward the task table as Wei and Ji arrived.
Wei joked, “What’s in the box?”
Xu opened it “It says: today, teams split by yesterday’s rowing results. Four per team, competition tasks: calligraphy, painting, embroidery, ceramics. Create one item anonymously each, then votes determine winners.”
Ji looked uneasy: “Did they say what happens to losers?”
“No,” Xu said. Wei sighed: “So Ji and I are together again? Just our luck.”
Ji tried to stay positive: “We can win this!”
Xu ran over to Yu: “Do you do calligraphy, Yu‑brother?”
“I know a little,” Yu said.
Ji gasped, “A little?”
Yu shrugged: “Not expert.”
Ji held his chest in disbelief: “Compared to horseback archery?”
Yu replied flatly: “That was training for a month.”
Ji stared. Xu gasped and whispered: “And your calligraphy? How long writing?”
“Almost four years,” Yu said.
Silence filled the courtyard. Before the show, he’d had a legal face-off with Huaze it was big news in and out of the industry and that ended when he also broke with Hua after four years. So, he must have taken up calligraphy then.
Xu whispered: “That’s so long…” Ji chimed in: “Then maybe stick to those tasks embroidery and ceramics!”
Ji laughed: “I can do embroidery!”
Xu playfully scolded: “Don’t be East‑Winner!”
Yu’s gaze stayed on Jiang Yu. Jiang Yu noticed and turned to him. Yu smiled faintly and said, “How’s it going?”
“Nothing.” Yu stepped forward, took his hand: “Four years’ hard work.”
Yu looked, and Yu met his eyes. Yu raised an eyebrow: “What?”
“I said nothing,” Yu replied softly.
Jiang Yu smiled at his gesture and squeezed his hand. Others continued talking about the challenge. Xu, trying to shift back after the serious topic, declared: “I’ll learn embroidery and calligraphy well!”
Ji cheered: “That’s perfect! You’ll carry our team!”
Xu glared playfully, chasing Ji around. Lighthearted mood returned but the live chat exploded with question marks:
“??? Are they actually secretly married?! That’s bold I’m panicking, should’ve been more cautious!!!”
