Chi Zhan had no choice but to leave a message: Do you want to go watch WT’s match with me?
“I’ll check and get back to you.”
“Alright! I’m so excited I probably won’t sleep tonight! I finally get to see my idol in person!”
Chi Zhan couldn’t help thinking—Not only have I seen your idol, I even wore his designer scarf worth eight figures…
The footage from the last livestream had since been edited and uploaded across various platforms. All clips of Chi Zhan and Seven entering the scene, as well as any related interview segments, had been cut.
To avoid attracting attention to Chi Zhan.
After changing into his loungewear, Chi Zhan turned on the TV. A variety show was airing—and Chu Xingxiao was in it.
It was a singing and dancing competition show. Every time the camera panned to him, he played the part of a silent, edgy cool boy—expressionless, and only responding with the occasional “Mm,” “Oh,” or “What, you got a problem?”
Chi Zhan found it hilarious.
Who would’ve thought Chu Xingxiao could act so well on camera?
Then it occurred to him—did Chu Xingxiao play games? Maybe he’d be interested in WT’s upcoming match too?
It felt like he hadn’t seen Chu Xingxiao in ages. He was probably swamped with dance practice and classes.
He was so young, yet busy all the time. Even when sick, he’d only rest for a day before pushing himself to return to class. Even as a romance target, he didn’t have the luxury of an easy life.
Chi Zhan sent him a message: Are you done with class?
About ten minutes later, Chu Xingxiao replied: Just finished. Gege, do you need something?
For some reason, he suddenly sounded very formal, almost as if he were trying to put some distance between them.
What’s going on?
Chi Zhan thought it over and over but couldn’t figure it out. In the end, he typed: Kinda craving rice noodles from downstairs at the office. Could you grab me some on your way back?
He hadn’t even hit send on “If it’s inconvenient, don’t worry about it” before Chu Xingxiao replied.
Chu Xingxiao: Sure.
Half an hour later, the doorbell rang.
Chi Zhan opened the door to find Chu Xingxiao standing there, panting slightly, holding out a plastic bag.
“G-Got it…”
He was so out of breath he could barely speak. His denim jacket was unbuttoned, flapping open in the freezing winter air, with only a thin T-shirt underneath, revealing his collarbone like he wasn’t cold at all.
Young and full of energy—just standing near him, you could feel the heat radiating off his body.
Chi Zhan didn’t take the bag.
“Come in.”
Chu Xingxiao blinked, then asked cautiously, “You’re letting me in?”
“What else?” Chi Zhan looked at him, puzzled. “Or have you changed careers to food delivery? Got another order to run after this?”
“……”
“You didn’t seriously run all the way back here, did you?” Chi Zhan asked in disbelief.
“Rush hour traffic. Roads were jammed,” Chu Xingxiao replied coolly as he stepped inside. “The shop owner told me rice noodles don’t taste good after sitting too long.”
Chi Zhan was momentarily speechless.
Their office wasn’t exactly close to the apartment complex… and Chu Xingxiao actually ran all this way, just so he could eat his noodles while they were still hot.
Having a younger brother really was a blessing.
“Aren’t you cold?”
“No.”
The takeout bag had already frosted over. Chu Xingxiao’s hair was damp, and his eyes shone bright as he looked at Chi Zhan.
Worried he’d catch a cold, Chi Zhan handed him a clean towel.
“Hurry up and dry off.”
But Chu Xingxiao didn’t care.
“You should eat first.”
Chi Zhan didn’t give him a choice, throwing the towel over his head.
“I can’t see!” Chu Xingxiao protested.
“Then hurry up and wipe,” Chi Zhan laughed.
They bickered playfully, drawing closer in the process. Suddenly, Chi Zhan paused, leaned in a bit, and sniffed.
“Are you wearing cologne?”
It was a blend of lemon and liqueur, layered with the chill of snow and frost. The longer he inhaled, the more intoxicating it became.
***
At that, Chu Xingxiao’s expression faltered. He stammered, “Cologne? No, I never wear any.”
Chi Zhan didn’t say anything, just leaned in even closer, bracing one hand on the sofa, body drawing near. He bent down, inhaling deeply at Chu Xingxiao’s neck.
Chu Xingxiao’s chest rose and fell ever so slightly. His breath still carried the chill of winter. He blinked, frozen in place, not daring to move a muscle.
His breath, too, was tinged with a lingering fruity sweetness—like it had been soaked in wine. Yet it was also crisp and fresh, undeniably pleasant.
“Gege, what are you doing?” Chu Xingxiao’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke, voice rough. Chi Zhan was so close, his breath brushed right against Chu Xingxiao’s skin—warm and feather-light, like a tiny hook that instantly triggered a deep, indescribable urge.
He wanted to pin Chi Zhan down right there on the couch.
“There’s something strange about your scent,” Chi Zhan said thoughtfully. It felt… familiar.
Where had he smelled it before?
He pondered it for a while, only to realize that Chu Xingxiao hadn’t said a word. When he finally looked up, the younger man’s neck and ears were bright red. His lips were tightly pressed together, eyes darting every which way, not daring to meet his gaze.
“The distance is… a little too close,” Chu Xingxiao muttered.
Chi Zhan hadn’t thought much of it until now. But seeing him like this, he backed off to a more normal distance. Chu Xingxiao immediately shifted his posture, subtly adjusting his pants with a slightly awkward expression.
Chi Zhan chuckled. For someone who looked so cool and aloof on variety shows, Chu Xingxiao in real life was adorably pure.
He barely smirked when Chu Xingxiao noticed it instantly.
“…Gege, what are you laughing at?”
“I’m not. Oh—did you eat lemon earlier?”
Chu Xingxiao looked confused. “No, too sour. I don’t like it.” He paused, then sniffed his own arm. “I did have a bit of lemon liqueur at the company earlier. Maybe I accidentally got some on me.”
That’s when it hit Chi Zhan.
This scent… it was just like the one from that night on the cruise ship.
Or almost.
Back then, he’d been dazed and barely conscious. The fragrance had been strong, and time had blurred the memory. Even now, when he tried to recall it, it no longer felt quite real.
