The next day, Qin Sizheng woke up in the man’s embrace, right arm outside the covers, left hand under his head, with some fresh scratches on his chest.
The morning sunlight filtered softly across the bed. Only then did Qin Sizheng realize, with a flush of embarrassment, what had happened last night. He shrank further under the covers—only to rouse the man beside him.
“Want more?”
Qin Sizheng froze. When Lu Xianqing’s hand touched the swollen area, he flushed even hotter and murmured into his embrace, “No… I don’t.”
Last night had been wild—he had never imagined it could reach such a level, nor realized how differently it felt from different positions.
Lu Xianqing had completely surrendered himself yesterday. Qin Sizheng suddenly remembered Han Zhang’s words about him and felt a strange sense of satisfaction looking at this “misunderstood” high and distant flower-like actor.
“Yo, don’t act like that—claiming you can’t sit still and calling on me to support you. So you really believe I’ll always protect you?”
Qin Sizheng pressed his hand over Lu Xianqing’s mouth. “Don’t talk.”
Lu Xianqing shifted his arm. “You said don’t talk, and you still won’t let me get up? My hand’s all numb from being pressed, and you’re eighteen and still sleeping in someone else’s arms.”
Qin Sizheng looked up and let him withdraw his arm, then rubbed the soreness from it, recalling the first time they met at the gym when he had massaged Lu Xianqing’s brow.
“Fourth Brother.”
“Mm?” Lu Xianqing closed his eyes, enjoying the care, exuding a satisfied, lazy comfort.
“The first time we met at the gym, you had me rub your brow. Later, on variety shows, you often bullied me. If you didn’t dislike me, does that mean you liked me then? Or had you started secretly admiring me even earlier?”
Lu Xianqing’s eyes snapped open.
Qin Sizheng didn’t notice the fleeting expression in them and pressed on. “Back then, I kept trying to avoid you, enduring all your bullying. Was it on purpose?”
Lu Xianqing closed his eyes again, masking his expression. “Yes… I liked you, so I teased you.”
Qin Sizheng couldn’t understand this logic. He muttered, “I thought we were truly rivals. Who bullies someone they like? Did you just graduate kindergarten?”
Lu Xianqing’s gaze fell on the fingers massaging his arm. They now bore more calluses, and the knuckles had subtle deformations, likely from boxing practice.
Back then, those smooth, delicate fingers had captivated him completely. Now, rougher though they were, they were even more irresistible.
He remembered how frantic he had been then—sending countless messages, even a handwritten note. He had panicked, startled by reflexive reactions and eyes that failed to hide surprise, yet still had to apologize to the “culprit” for his imagined harm, enduring care like hand massages and bandaging.
He was completely unaware that the “aggressor” was actually his savior. He had simply thought Lu Xianqing was kind.
Watching Qin Sizheng’s full trust—from confession to public declaration, from showing rings in videos, to last night’s initiative—Lu Xianqing felt a deep, almost overwhelming satisfaction.
He didn’t dare imagine what would happen if Qin Sizheng ever realized those events had all been orchestrated by him.
“Fourth Brother, what are you thinking?” Qin Sizheng asked, getting no reply. He brushed the hair from Lu Xianqing’s eyes.
Lu Xianqing caught his hand, lowering his gaze to meet his. The boy blinked.
He had never regretted his actions before, but now he felt unable to meet Qin Sizheng’s clear, unguarded eyes.
“Yan Yan.”
Qin Sizheng sensed the gravity in his tone, holding his breath for what would come next. Lu Xianqing unconsciously squeezed his knuckles and asked obscurely, “I’m not a good person… do you know that?”
Qin Sizheng’s eyes seemed to stall, unsure of what he meant.
“If one day, you find that I’m different from the Fourth Brother you know, the one you’ve imagined…” Lu Xianqing paused, pulling him closer and burying his head in his neck, silent.
Qin Sizheng didn’t rush him, patiently waiting.
Their breaths intertwined, slowly teasing apart, with only the warmth of each other’s exhalations as a tether.
After a long moment, Lu Xianqing spoke again.
“You can’t abandon me, or I’ll lock you up, keep you in my house. Even if you hate me, despise me, I won’t let you go. So…”
He held Qin Sizheng’s hand against his chest, eyes fixed on his. “Never discard me.”
The world seemed to shrink to just that small space between them. Qin Sizheng could sense his repression and struggle, his heart tightening with each beat.
Though he didn’t understand why Lu Xianqing feared being abandoned, he reciprocated, interlocking their fingers and earnestly saying,
“I’ll never abandon you.”