Chapter 80

Xie Huai strode confidently through the crowd, walking straight toward Qi Xu like he’d been by his side all along.

Like the past week of absence had never happened.

But it had happened—and starting today, they were making up for lost time.

Qi Xu glanced over Xie Huai’s outfit. He could tell: the guy had gone home first, then come straight here. Their matching down jackets had always hung in the closet at home.

The storm had passed, and the moon finally broke through the clouds—Xie Huai was free.

As for how he solved everything? Now wasn’t the time to ask, and Qi Xu didn’t press.

Li Yan and the others had no idea Qi Xu and Xie Huai hadn’t seen each other for almost a week. They just assumed the two had arrived together—after all, they were practically glued at the hip by now.

They left school at the same time and reappeared at the same time.

“Huai-ge, I almost forgot you knew where the academic building is,” Li Yan teased.

Xie Huai held up a small pencil case. “Almost got lost without Xu-ge to guide me.”

Li Yan laughed. “You two really are inseparable, huh? Came one after the other like it was choreographed.”

Xie Huai nodded, eyes steady. “Yeah. I can’t be without him. Gonna follow him for the rest of my life.”

Everyone laughed like it was just a joke—except Qi Xu.

They chatted as they walked into the building. Qi Xu and Xie Huai lingered at the back, steps perfectly in sync.

Qi Xu raised a brow. “You even had time to go home and change? What time did you wake up this morning?”

It was exam day. The stairs were packed with students, all bundled up in thick coats.

Xie Huai casually hooked his fingers around Qi Xu’s. “I snuck out last night. Could only stay at home for one night—barely slept a wink.”

Qi Xu’s eyes widened. “Wait, you—”

Before he could finish, he caught the smirk tugging at Xie Huai’s lips. He huffed quietly. “Well, have fun being anxious by yourself tonight. I’m heading back to the old house.”

He tried pulling his hand back, but Xie Huai’s warm grip tightened, not letting go.

Xie Huai raised an eyebrow. “So heartless? Fine, I’ll go with you.”

Qi Xu made a soft, noncommittal sound but didn’t resist. Their hands stayed hidden and entwined beneath their sleeves.

After the first exam, they had another one the next day. Li Yan and Feng Zhenjie grabbed their review notes and went off to cram in an empty classroom, hoping last-minute prayers might actually help.

Qi Xu didn’t head back to the dorm right away. Instead, he wandered aimlessly around campus. Xie Huai followed him the entire time.

Eventually, Qi Xu got tired and stopped. But Xie Huai’s gaze hadn’t cooled at all. Not even the subzero capital air could chill the heat rolling off him.

Qi Xu suddenly felt a little guilty. He’d been provoking him all day, sending sparks with no intention of putting out the fire.

He should’ve known better—should’ve expected this once Xie Huai was out.

Was it too late to run?

Of course it was.

Qi Xu slowly unlocked the dorm door and even more slowly pushed it open.

Xie Huai followed with the patience of a saint—silent, not rushing, watching Qi Xu’s every move.

Outside that room, Qi Xu still had his “safe zone.” But once the door clicked shut and was locked behind them—

He didn’t even have time to speak before he was pinned against it.

Xie Huai’s hand cupped the back of his head, steadying him, as he leaned in and kissed him hard.

All that time out in the freezing air? Useless. Xie Huai was still burning hot.

He pressed against Qi Xu’s throat, making him tilt his head back. The kiss was intense, devouring—layer by layer, he broke through every defense.

Qi Xu was breathless by the end, his lips red, eyes glazed, the corners of his eyes tinged with a soft, flushed pink. Then Xie Huai scooped him up, carried him to the desk, and swept the books aside without a second thought.

Qi Xu opened his mouth to protest—those were review notes—but Xie Huai moved in faster.

Qi Xu had no choice but to wrap his arms around Xie Huai’s neck to keep himself steady.

Eyes squeezed shut, he mumbled against his lips, voice faint and trembling:
“Xie Huai… it’s hot.”

The dorm room was sealed tight against the subzero air outside, but Qi Xu was already burning—sweat clinging to his skin, breath hot and shallow, his dark hair damp and plastered to the side of his flushed face. He looked like a mermaid, dragged ashore and left gasping in the open.

It wasn’t until he was pinned beneath Xie Huai on the narrow twin bed that he realized: this was only the beginning of his “punishment.”

Xie Huai straddled him, looming overhead with a gaze full of heat and intent. “I dreamed about you last night,” he murmured low, “Holding you. Kissing you. Doing the things you said you wanted. Then I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

He recited the letter verbatim. Not a word off. Qi Xu flushed deeper, mortified.

Turning his face aside, Qi Xu shot back, “You memorized it? Just how many times did you read it?”

Xie Huai’s fingers lightly pinched his earlobe, his voice brushing close to his ear, repeating lines that had been far more suggestive—words Qi Xu had written in quiet, late-night hours, stirred by a yearning too strong to silence.

Xie Huai’s voice, low and rough, swept through Qi Xu like smoke—leaving him dazed, unsure if this was a dream or not.

Their noses nearly touched. Xie Huai gave him a soft bite near his jaw. “You never listen.”

Qi Xu pushed back with a shaky breath, teasing, “And what exactly do you plan to do about it?”

It was a challenge. A test. His only way of confirming Xie Huai was truly here—not just another figment of longing.

Xie Huai had never been shy about how much he wanted him. His touch lingered at Qi Xu’s waist, mapping every inch like he meant to claim it. The tension between them had always walked that fine line—too much and never enough.

Qi Xu’s vision was blocked by a scarf, his other senses heightened.

Fingers brushed against his waistband, and Qi Xu involuntarily shuddered. Then came warm breaths against bare skin—soft, deliberate, maddening.

He flung the scarf back at Xie Huai, breath short. “We have finals tomorrow.”

Xie Huai caught his ankle with practiced ease, dark eyes steady. In his other hand, the scarf remained.

“Be good,” he said, calm and sure.

Qi Xu propped himself up on one elbow, resisting even as his voice wavered, “Nothing else. Just stay.”

Qi Xu propped himself up slightly, voice low but firm. “Nothing more.”

Xie Huai didn’t answer. His eyes were dark with restraint, yet full of heat. He gently pushed Qi Xu back onto the pillow, his lips trailing softly along the side of his neck. “I just want you to feel good,” he whispered.

Qi Xu’s breath hitched. He didn’t quite agree, didn’t quite resist. But the gap in strength was obvious. Soon, a scarf fell over his face again—vision gone, senses sharpened. One of his hands was tugged above his head and tied loosely to the bedframe.

His shirt had been pushed halfway up his chest. His defenses were crumbling fast.

Xie Huai left a trail lower, slow and sure, claiming new territory with every breath and touch. The cold and warmth blended into something unbearable.

Qi Xu let the scarf stay, eyes hidden. His free hand flailed for something—anything—until it landed in Xie Huai’s hair. He startled and let go, as if shocked, but his body gave up the fight.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Maybe that week of being grounded had given Xie Huai time to study—Qi Xu had jokingly complained last time, saying, “Didn’t even feel that great.” Of course, he’d only said it to tease.

But Xie Huai had apparently taken it seriously.

This time, there wasn’t much to complain about.

When Qi Xu opened his eyes again, he bit down on his lip. The curtains dimmed the light, but not enough to soften the intensity of what was unfolding in front of him.

Xie Huai suddenly looked up. Their eyes locked.

Qi Xu froze. In Xie Huai’s gaze, he saw himself reflected—not as a person, but as prey already taken apart, piece by piece.

A knock came at the door.

Someone outside called, “Huai-ge? Xu-ge? You in there?”

The knocking continued for a while. Muffled voices followed—someone guessing maybe they hadn’t come back to the dorm.

But they had.

They were right there—entangled, silent, unmoving.

Then everything fell quiet again.

In that suspended moment before his mind went blank, Qi Xu understood one thing with jarring clarity:

This wasn’t a dream.

At the edge of his vision, tears pooled. Xie Huai bent down and kissed them away.

When Qi Xu finally came back to himself, his wrist had been released. He lay sprawled out on the messy bed, flushed, dazed, breath slowly evening out. Content.

Xie Huai reached for a tissue, wiping them both down. That’s when Qi Xu caught him off guard—pushed him to the foot of the bed, eyes unreadable.

“No one’s forcing you,” Xie Huai said quickly. “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not up for it.”

“I never said no,” Qi Xu muttered, straddling him lazily, shirt still a mess. “As long as it’s you.”

Xie Huai blinked, visibly stunned.

Qi Xu didn’t look particularly invested. He was simply returning the favor—with about as much effort as necessary.

He wasn’t exactly energetic either. Last time, Xie Huai had to finish half of it alone. This time, Qi Xu didn’t even make it halfway before trying to leave.

Xie Huai looked devastated. His voice cracked. “Baby… you can’t just do that.”

And yet, what else could he do? Qi Xu, swayed by the word “baby” repeated again and again, blinked back tears, eyes rimmed red again.

Desire had its cost.

Now he just lay there with clenched teeth, letting Xie Huai gently clean his face over and over. Silent. Stewing.

The bed was a mess.

Frustrated, Qi Xu kicked him once more.

Xie Huai gently caught his foot, tucking it back beneath the covers. He pulled down Qi Xu’s rumpled shirt, climbed out of bed, and turned on the heater. A moment later, he returned with a fresh blanket and draped it over them.

Qi Xu, now catching his breath, glanced at the faint red marks on his wrist. He looked up and said, dryly, “You really went for it.”

Xie Huai brushed aside the hair from his forehead and smiled. “You think I could actually hold you down?”

The scarf hadn’t been tied tightly—barely more than a symbolic restraint. Qi Xu could’ve shaken it off at any moment. But he hadn’t. He needed something—some excuse to let Xie Huai cross that line. To let himself want it.

Qi Xu shifted toward the wall, making space. Xie Huai laid down beside him naturally, close as breath.

After wasting an hour and a half doing everything but talking, Qi Xu finally returned to the point. He nudged Xie Huai and said, “Turn over.”

Xie Huai obliged. Qi Xu lifted the hem of his shirt, inspecting his back.

“I’m fine,” Xie Huai said before he could ask. “Those hits weren’t serious. Grandpa pulled his punches. Just some bruising. It’s already fading.”

But Qi Xu could still see it—marks on his shoulder blades, around his lower back. Faint now, but they told a story. And he could imagine exactly how that night had gone down.

His fingers ghosted over the bruises, heart twisting, though he knew this wasn’t something either of them could run from.

Xie Huai rolled over and pulled him into a hug. His palm slid over Qi Xu’s back, brushing his own old scars as if mirroring the touch.

“You feel bad for me,” Xie Huai murmured, “but that’s nothing compared to how much I hurt when you’re the one getting hurt. And I won’t let anyone who harms you off easy.”

Qi Xu frowned. “Don’t make trouble with your family just for me. You want to end up grounded again? I can handle things myself.”

“They’re not mad,” Xie Huai said simply. “No one’s going to come between me and you.”

That hit differently.

Qi Xu suddenly remembered what Qin Yue had said—what if Xie Huai got cast out by his family just because of him? That kind of outcome was too final, too destructive. Unnecessary.

They weren’t at that point yet. Not yet.

He leaned on one elbow, looking down at him. “So what did you trade for this peace? What terms did you give them?”
“Or what exactly did you agree to?”

Xie Huai pinched Qi Xu’s cheek with a grin. “I’m broke now. They froze all my assets. Guess I’ll have to live off you.”

Qi Xu rolled his eyes. “I can barely afford to sponsor you monthly. I’m broke too.”

“No problem,” Xie Huai chuckled. “I’ll pay you.”

Qi Xu jabbed him with his elbow at that shameless line. “Be serious. Don’t tell me you signed a bet agreement or something.”

Xie Huai raised an eyebrow.

Qi Xu immediately sat up, alarmed. “You’re going up against both the Qin and Xie families? Did you really think this through?”

“I did,” Xie Huai said calmly. “Four years. I won’t use a cent of the Qin or Xie family money. I’ll build a new business empire from scratch. If I fail, I’ll go abroad. I won’t come back.”

Qi Xu swore under his breath. His temples throbbed.

Xie Huai was pushing up the timeline. He’d originally built his empire at twenty-eight. Now he was trying to do it at eighteen.

Qi Xu had no doubt Xie Huai could do it—he’d always been extraordinary—but moving that dream up by a full decade meant sacrificing everything: youth, rest, peace of mind. He wouldn’t get to live like a normal college student. He’d be chained to this high-stakes gamble.

So in the end, the families were still trying to control him.

Qi Xu glanced at Xie Huai’s wrist, loosely spinning a beaded bracelet between his fingers. He looked completely unbothered—like the whole bet wasn’t worth more than a string of wood beads.

“You really don’t see a problem with this?” Qi Xu’s voice rose. “Four years of nonstop classes and work. You’ll burn yourself out. They’re coercing you.”

The last thing Qi Xu wanted was to watch Xie Huai crushed beneath the weight of obligation, to see him become just another product of their control.

He got worked up. Xie Huai pulled him into his arms and gently rubbed his back. “It won’t be like that,” he said. “I was the one who proposed the deal. I wanted this—for us. So there’d be no obstacles left.”

He sounded so sure. So confident.

Qi Xu pulled back a little, cupped his face, and said seriously, “Four years. You still have school. Where’s the time going to come from? You’re not planning to stop eating and sleeping, are you?”

He wasn’t even sure Xie Huai understood what it meant to build a business empire—dominating an entire industry. Four years wasn’t enough. For most companies, that was just enough time to gain footing, not conquer.

Xie Huai only smiled and pressed a kiss to Qi Xu’s palm. “I’ll eat. I’ll sleep. I’ll take care of myself. I plan to live a long life—with you.”

Qi Xu frowned. “You’re starting from zero. No help from either family. You’ll need capital. I’ll sell that car Shen Fengkai gave me.”

Xie Huai laughed. “It’s not that bad yet. I’ve saved up a decent amount over the years. Between that and some odds and ends, I could buy you a couple dozen cars.”

Qi Xu: “…”

And just like that, the wealth gap became crystal clear.

Xie Huai had mentioned he was working on a startup—clearly, he had a backup plan before walking into that negotiation.

Still, Qi Xu warned him without any tact: “Don’t you dare flaunt your money around me. It’ll make me bitter. I’ll wake up at 3 a.m. just to strangle you.”

Xie Huai pushed him back onto the bed, locking him in his arms, nuzzling against his neck. His voice came out low and muffled. “At 3 a.m.? You’ll be too sleepy. How about I just wake you up—with something better?”

Qi Xu: “…”

He gritted his teeth. “Wow. Thank you, Officer Lei Feng. Real generous of you. Feel free to try waking me up that way.”

Xie Huai, completely unfazed, couldn’t keep his hands to himself. “So… can I? Really?”

He sounded way too hopeful.

After a week apart, they’d finally seen each other again. They’d hugged, kissed, tangled, argued.

In the end, Xie Huai raised his hands in surrender, letting Qi Xu pin him down and bite him—twice—before he got too tired to keep going.

Qi Xu finally let himself be coaxed to sleep.

Finals week lasted about a week and a half. Neither Qi Xu nor Xie Huai went home—they stayed on campus, busy with end-of-semester tasks.

And during that time, Qi Xu got a full sense of just how clingy Xie Huai could be.

He followed him everywhere—even to the bathroom. Sure, they’d seen everything already, but that didn’t mean daily bathroom bonding was necessary.

One night, Li Yan and Feng Zhenjie were still studying in the lounge past midnight when Qi Xu grabbed some clothes and went to shower. Xie Huai tried to follow him into the bathroom.

If he had gone in, there was no way it would’ve just been about getting clean. Qi Xu still hadn’t fully processed the chaos from a few days ago. Even seeing that scarf—no, even getting into bed was enough to trigger a full replay in his head.

Qi Xu planted his foot against the door. “What are you doing?”

Xie Huai caught the nervous look in Qi Xu’s eyes and pulled back slightly, the towel in his hand drooping. “I wanted to shower with you.”

“You really just say things, huh?” Qi Xu tilted his head. “Look at the size of this bathroom. You think we’re gonna stack ourselves like building blocks or something?”

Xie Huai feigned pushing the door open. “Then I’ll just watch you shower.”

“Get lost,” Qi Xu snapped.

He was this close to losing it. Xie Huai let up. “You forgot your towel.”

Qi Xu grabbed the towel he handed over. “Oh. Thanks.” Then, just before closing the door, he added, “I left it on purpose. Was planning to yell for you after I was done.”

The second he finished the sentence, he shut the door—afraid Xie Huai might actually take him seriously and barge in.

Xie Huai didn’t disturb his shower after that, though he did crawl into bed in the middle of the night.

Qi Xu didn’t even need to try to fall asleep—he’d been reading review materials all evening. The second he lay down, he was out cold.

When Xie Huai got into bed, Qi Xu thought he was dreaming. Half-asleep, he vaguely registered someone moving beside him. His eyes shot open—Xie Huai’s face came into focus, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

He seriously thought he was seeing a ghost.

…Which wasn’t totally wrong. A ghost with unmet needs.

Qi Xu took a deep breath, eyes still closed, and asked calmly, “Wet the bed again?”

Xie Huai slipped under the covers like he belonged there, his face lost in the dark. He wrapped his arms around Qi Xu, soaking in the warmth radiating from his body—alive, real, pulsing with life.

“I had a nightmare,” he murmured.

Qi Xu, half-dead from exhaustion, snuggled closer, mumbling, “Don’t be scared. Reality usually flips the dream—whatever happened in it won’t come true.”

He fell asleep just like that.

Xie Huai didn’t sleep a wink.

Bits and pieces of the dream kept flashing through his mind. He kept placing his hand on Qi Xu’s chest, over and over again, just to feel his heartbeat—like he was trying to convince himself it was still there.

Dreams were just dreams. Just like Qi Xu said, reality would be the opposite.

But everything in that dream had felt too real—the hospital bed, the beeping machines, and the moment that heart monitor flatlined. He couldn’t shake the sound from his ears.

When he finally tried to look at the person’s face in the dream, he saw something else: a string of agarwood beads in his own hand.

And in that instant, it felt like his heart stopped too.

He knew exactly who had been lying in that bed.