Chi Zhan let out a sigh.
“All right, let’s eat.”
He divided the rice and dishes he’d ordered, sliding half into Chu Xingxiao’s lunchbox. Chu Xingxiao had most of his face buried in the container, eating slowly, as if he didn’t have much of an appetite.
“It’s not that I was ignoring your calls. I just didn’t notice them.” Chi Zhan mulled it over and could only conclude the kid was upset because he hadn’t picked up the phone. He added, “I wasn’t doing it on purpose.”
Chu Xingxiao gave a small nod, obedient and well-behaved, though he still said very little. He kept his head down, picking at his food, occasionally glancing up at Chi Zhan with a complicated look in his eyes.
Clearly, he had no real appetite. He only ate half a bowl before stopping. Chi Zhan had to coax him into eating a bit more, and only then did he manage to finish another half bowl.
Chi Zhan got up to pour a glass of water, but before he could, Chu Xingxiao picked up the cup and went to the living room to get it himself.
As he lifted his gaze, he spotted the keyboard sitting on the shelf—the one he’d seen in the delivery box last time.
It was clearly a customized WT gift box model. He’d assumed it was just an ordinary keyboard and hadn’t paid much attention.
Only just now did it hit him—That keyboard was clearly a gift from Qi Song.
Suddenly, everything clicked into place.
There was nothing wrong with giving your boyfriend a gift. But…
Why was that “boyfriend” Chi Zhan?
Chu Xingxiao stared at the keyboard, wanting nothing more than to smash it into pieces. And yet, amid the feverish haze clouding his mind, a rare flash of clarity struck him like lightning— If Chi Zhan really were dating Qi Song, why would he ask someone else to pretend to be his boyfriend in real life?
Unless… things between Chi Zhan and Qi Song weren’t as good as he had assumed.
***
Chu Xingxiao had been in the living room for quite a while, and still hadn’t come back. Worried, Chi Zhan went to check—only to find him staring blankly at the keyboard on the shelf.
He couldn’t help but chuckle.
“You’re staring like that… do you really like this keyboard?”
Startled by the voice, Chu Xingxiao snapped out of his daze. His fever-addled mind was still foggy, and his gaze hadn’t fully withdrawn—still sharp and intense, more like he held a grudge against the keyboard than admiration.
He scratched his head and gave a muffled “mm,” unclear if it was a yes or just a response. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he asked, “Gege, do you like people who are good at games?”
The question was a little odd. Chi Zhan didn’t immediately follow the logic and figured the kid was just fever-drunk. He responded offhandedly, then looked at Chu Xingxiao’s flushed cheeks.
“Aren’t you hot? Take the scarf off.”
From the moment he walked in, Chu Xingxiao had kept that thick scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, even though he was only wearing a thin denim jacket. The combination looked strange.
Chu Xingxiao buried his face deeper into the scarf and mumbled, “It makes me feel safe.”
Chi Zhan poured him some warm water and handed it over. As he drank, Chu Xingxiao’s eyes kept drifting back toward the keyboard.
It had cat ears and paw prints printed on it—utterly adorable. Totally unlike something his aloof, solitary cousin would ever customize.
When had they even met? How long had they been together?
One question after another bubbled up in Chu Xingxiao’s chest, bursting like soap bubbles and landing with a sour splat in his heart.
No matter what, they’d clearly known each other longer than he had known Chi Zhan.
No matter how he looked at it, he was the one who came later.
He had no advantage.
Back then, Chi Zhan had only said the keyboard was a gift from a friend. He hadn’t said… it was from his “boyfriend.”
That one word made all the difference.
“What was your temperature?” Chi Zhan asked, concern etched into his expression. “Do you need to go to the hospital for an IV?”
Chu Xingxiao shook his head, his voice hoarse.
“No need. I’ve already taken medicine. I’ll be fine soon. Back then, even if I caught a cold, had a fever, or got soaked in the rain, I still had to work.” Chu Xingxiao lowered his eyes, his voice quiet. “I got used to it.”
Chi Zhan paused.
After a moment, he reached out and ruffled Chu Xingxiao’s hair, not sure how to comfort him.
“Be kinder to yourself. You’re still young—you don’t have to carry everything on your own.”
Chi Zhan remained standing, while Chu Xingxiao sat.
He squinted slightly, tilted his head up to look at Chi Zhan, and rasped, “Gege, can I hug you?”
Before Chi Zhan could respond, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Chi Zhan’s waist.
The embrace was feather-light—Chi Zhan could barely feel it. Chu Xingxiao rested his head against him, eyes gently closed.
Like a big puppy seeking comfort.
Chi Zhan didn’t move, but that scarf of his was far too thick. It was fine outdoors, but indoors… Just as he reached out to untie it, Chu Xingxiao caught his hand.
His palm was burning hot, like it held a small flame. He turned his hand over, clasping Chi Zhan’s in his own, long fingers curling around as he murmured, “Gege, touch me… I’m so hot…”
You’re only getting hotter by keeping that scarf on.
Chu Xingxiao just kept nuzzling against his hand like a cat, clearly enjoying it. Finally, he pressed Chi Zhan’s hand against his cheek and stayed still.
Compared to him, Chi Zhan’s skin was cooler—like a piece of polished jade, smooth and slightly chilled. Hot, uneven breaths fell against the back of Chi Zhan’s hand.
A moment later, Chu Xingxiao let go.
“Thank you, Gege,” he panted softly. “I feel a lot better now.”
Chi Zhan was still a bit worried, but Chu Xingxiao truly did seem more lucid—like the feverish boy clinging to him earlier had been someone else entirely.
In the end, Chu Xingxiao insisted on not troubling Chi Zhan. He cleared the dishes himself and wiped down the table. Though his movements were clearly clumsy, the effort he put in was obvious. Standing by the door, he said, “Gege, I’m right next door. If you ever need anything, promise you’ll come find me.”
Once he got Chi Zhan’s agreement, he went home and collapsed on the sofa. He unwound the scarf from his neck, stared at it in a daze, then draped it over his eyes.
Soft darkness enveloped him, infused with Chi Zhan’s familiar scent—a faint, sweet citrus.
Chu Xingxiao breathed it in again and again, thinking it smelled just wonderful.
