The hotel lobby at night was unusually quiet, broken only by the soft chime of wind bells as a delivery rider in a yellow uniform pushed the door open. Ming Qi felt the breeze from passing people brushing by, but his gaze was fixed entirely on Yu Qinchou.
He stared for a long moment before finally moving again. He walked forward a few steps. His face, still not fully recovered in color, slowly lifted into a faint smile.
“Why are you here?”
Yu Qinchou’s eyes were locked onto his right hand, wrapped tightly in bandages. The overly focused stare made Ming Qi slightly uncomfortable, and he instinctively tried to hide his hand behind his back.
“Why are you hiding?”
“I’m not.” Ming Qi insisted stubbornly, then quickly pulled the topic back. “You still haven’t said why you came.”
“To celebrate your wrap.”
But when Yu Qinchou arrived at the hotel room, he ran into Bu Hongfang’s assistant, A Chao, who told him Ming Qi had been sent to the hospital after getting injured on set.
No wonder the messages weren’t answered.
Yu Qinchou didn’t stay. After a brief thank-you, he immediately left, heading down to the lobby. The moment he stepped out of the elevator and glanced up, he saw the person he had been looking for—limping slightly, looking drained like a plant without water, walking beside Meng She.
At that moment, Yu Qinchou felt as if he had returned to that snowy day, when a black Koenigsegg had stopped by the roadside and picked up someone lost and adrift.
Ming Qi, unaware of what Yu Qinchou was thinking, only felt slightly guilty at the word “wrap.” According to Zhang Cong’s plan, they were supposed to go celebrate his wrap with a late-night meal after filming, but the accident had interrupted everything, and no one had even gotten to eat barbecue.
He hesitated for a moment, noticing Meng She’s odd expression as he stared at them, and straightened slightly.
“Um… Brother Meng, you can go back to your room first. I’ll talk to Mr. Yu for a bit.”
Meng She responded with an “oh” and headed for the elevator. But just before the doors closed, he turned back again and reminded him, “Call me if you need help showering later.”
Ming Qi’s injury was on his right hand, so he couldn’t get it wet. But after a full day of filming fight scenes, rolling on the ground over and over, knowing Ming Qi’s personality, there was no way he’d tolerate going to bed dirty.
As Ming Qi nodded, Meng She stepped into the elevator. As the doors closed, he frowned slightly, replaying the scene of Ming Qi and Yu Qinchou making eye contact at the entrance.
…That felt a bit too much like an idol drama. Must be his imagination.
But the atmosphere really did seem a little off.
He scratched his head, didn’t think further, and went back to his room.
Meanwhile, after Meng She left, Ming Qi quickly walked over to Yu Qinchou. He looked up as if about to speak, but Yu Qinchou reached out first, brushing his fingertips lightly across Ming Qi’s face.
The touch was very light, but it still made Ming Qi hiss softly. Yu Qinchou patted his head.
“Go back to the room first.”
Ming Qi responded with a quiet “okay” and obediently followed behind him.
On the way to the elevator, they happened to pass A Chao. After a brief greeting, A Chao asked, “What did the doctor say?”
“Just need rest,” Ming Qi replied. He really didn’t think it was serious—just glass fragments embedded a bit deeper in his palm.
A Chao had witnessed the entire incident at the set and still felt uneasy remembering the blood staining the white coat. But hearing Ming Qi say this, he finally relaxed a little. Not daring to look at Yu Qinchou’s expression, he quickly passed by them.
Yu Qinchou opened the door. When the lights turned on and illuminated the room, he walked toward the bathroom.
Ming Qi watched his back for a few seconds before looking away, then paused near the sofa.
On the coffee table sat a bouquet of soft orange-pink roses. The flowers were in full bloom, petals glistening with faint drops of water. When he leaned closer, there was a subtle, lingering fragrance in the air.
Ming Qi naturally sat cross-legged on the carpet, lightly poking the round, plump rose with his fingertips. When the figure drew near, he looked up and asked Yu Qinzhuo: “Is this a wrap-up gift for me?”
Yu Qinzhuo gave a soft “mm,” took off his black overcoat, the white shirt cuffs rolled up to reveal a section of cold pale wrist. With a soft towel in his palm, he very naturally used Ming Qi’s upturned face as an opportunity, hooking his chin with his other hand, and gently wiped the bloodstains on his face with the slightly damp towel.
“How come you didn’t handle your face before coming back with it too?”
Ming Qi caught his meaning, blinked, and said, “This on my face would’ve healed a bit later anyway.”
“Pretty tough.”
Those simple, direct three words made Ming Qi faintly sense a trace of coldness. He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but his born survival instinct made him quickly change the topic. “The doctor prescribed hydrogen peroxide and iodophor for disinfection.”
His face was still held in Yu Qinzhuo’s hand and couldn’t move, so he could only poke at the medicine bag that had been thrown onto the sofa.
Yu Qinzhuo glanced at it, bent down, picked up the bag, and opened the medicine bottle.
Even though Yu Qinzhuo came from a wealthy family, he was unexpectedly skilled at taking care of people. With half-lowered eyelids, he used a cotton swab dipped in hydrogen peroxide to clean the wound several times, then applied iodophor.
The cold liquid touching his cheek made Ming Qi subconsciously grab the hem of the man’s clothes with his uninjured hand.
Yu Qinzhuo paused and asked him, “Does it hurt?”
Ming Qi quickly shook his head. “It doesn’t hurt, just a little cold.”
“Mm.” Yu Qinzhuo responded. After a while, he finally finished treating all the abrasions on Ming Qi’s face. He lifted Ming Qi’s chin and turned it slightly to look again, a faint smile appearing. “All done, little flower cat.”
Ming Qi: “……”
Why was he suddenly being called a little flower cat?
Too lazy to get up and look in the bathroom mirror, he simply took out his phone and opened the front camera, then fell silent.
…He wasn’t really a little flower cat. At most, a little orange cat.
The iodophor was dark in color, and the cotton swab hadn’t fully blended it out, leaving patches of white and yellow on his face. Not very pretty. But for a grown man like Ming Qi to care about this felt petty, so he pretended to be calm and put his phone down, staring at Yu Qinzhuo face to face.
In the end, Yu Qinzhuo was the one who asked if he wanted to shower.
Of course Ming Qi wanted to.
But looking at his current state, his expression became conflicted and hesitant.
To be honest… he didn’t really want to ask Meng She for help either.
While he was still thinking, Yu Qinzhuo had already turned and walked toward the bathroom. He didn’t say anything, but his meaning was clear. Ming Qi quickly got up from the floor and followed him, stretching his neck as he said, “Later can you help me find a plastic bag to wrap my hand? Is that okay?”
“Is your left hand convenient?”
“…It should be fine.”
Ming Qi wasn’t left-handed, but showering shouldn’t be too difficult.
Hearing that, Yu Qinzhuo said nothing more. As Ming Qi wished, he went to the convenience store next to the hotel and bought cling film, carefully wrapping every part of Ming Qi’s right hand tightly. Ming Qi lowered his head and looked at his already pig-trotter-like hand, now even puffier, and frowned slightly.
“Then I’ll go shower first.”
Yu Qinzhuo nodded. “I’ll be outside. Call me anytime if anything happens. Don’t push yourself.”
Ming Qi obediently nodded, then turned and closed the door. Feeling the water already turning warm, he was about to take off his clothes when he suddenly froze. Looking down, he realized he was still wearing Shen Yushan’s costume from the hospital trip. The white coat could be removed, but the pullover underneath was especially difficult with only his left hand.
Ming Qi struggled like a caterpillar for a long time, sweating all over, but accidentally touched his injured right hand first, making it jerk in pain.
“……”
So awkward.
He bit his lip and was still trying when Yu Qinzhuo knocked from outside. “Open the door. I’ll take it off for you.”
Ming Qi: “…How do you know I haven’t taken it off yet?”
A low, meaningful laugh came from outside the door. “I can roughly see what you’re doing inside.”
Right—the bathroom was frosted glass, faintly showing silhouettes.
Which meant Yu Qinzhuo had clearly seen everything he was doing just now.
After a moment of silence, Ming Qi said gloomily, “How about you turn around and don’t look, I’ll try again.”
“Shy?” Yu Qinzhuo leaned casually against the wall outside the door, his tone slightly raised. “You’ve already seen me naked. I seeing you is just mutual exchange. What’s there to be shy about?”
Ming Qi almost blurted out when he had ever seen him naked, but the image surfaced too quickly—he immediately thought of their video call during Yu Qinzhuo’s first business trip.
He didn’t say it out loud, but still muttered, “That’s not how you count it.”
“Then are you letting me take it off or not?”
Ming Qi: “……”
He resignedly pushed the door open and said quietly, “Then I’ll trouble you.”
Inside the bathroom, the shower had been turned off. The sound of running water disappeared, leaving only the faint hum of heating in the room. Ming Qi clearly felt the already not-spacious room become even tighter after Yu Qinzhuo entered, shadows beginning to swallow the light, creating a subtle sense of pressure.
His gaze casually fell on the fogged mirror. The reflection wasn’t clear, but two overlapping figures could still be seen, making the scene look especially ambiguous.
“Raise your hand.”
Ming Qi obediently lifted his arm. Yu Qinzhuo lifted the hem of his clothes. The slightly cool fingers brushed against his exposed waist, making Ming Qi flinch and instinctively bump into Yu Qinzhuo’s chest.
Yu Qinzhuo naturally pulled him into his arms and said calmly, “Got it. You like being undressed like this.”