Just moments ago, Pei Tingsong was still that arrogant, hot-tempered young master.
Now, for some reason, he’s more adept at being affectionate than anyone else, practically like a giant dog—all he needs is a tail to wag.
Fang Juexia couldn’t bring himself to refuse him, so he let him coax and persuade him into the bathroom.
When Pei Tingsong said he’d set up a small stool, he actually did—placing it beside the bathtub and even padding it with a thick cushion to prevent discomfort. “See? It fits perfectly, doesn’t it?” Fang Juexia silently filled the tub with hot water. His gaze caught a box of bath bombs on the shelf, and he plucked one out, tossing it into the water. The tiny sphere dissolved, quickly filling the tub with milky white bubbles tinged with pale blue. A scent wafted up—soft vanilla and cardamom, mingled with the faintest hint of sea salt.
“So many bubbles?” Pei Tingsong teased him deliberately. “You wouldn’t be afraid of seeing something, so you just fill it with bubbles—out of sight, out of mind, right?”
Fang Juexia hadn’t thought that way when he tossed it in; he’d just felt it would be soothing. Unexpectedly, Pei Tingsong twisted his words, prompting an explanation. “No, I wasn’t thinking that much.”
“True. You’ve seen enough already.”
Pei Tingsong started to speak further, but Fang Juexia covered his mouth. “Are you going to wash or not?”
“Mm,” Pei Tingsong nodded, then kissed Fang Juexia’s palm. Fang Juexia released his hand and glared at him. “Then hurry up.”
“Got it.”
The cast made things awkward. When he’d been discharged earlier, he’d worn an extra-baggy hoodie with oversized sleeves. His left arm was suspended, so he’d rolled up the cuffs. Putting it on had been a struggle, and taking it off was proving just as difficult. Fang Juexia stood behind him, unfastening the sling before carefully peeling off the sweatshirt. He’d felt awkward at first, but now his heart was in his throat, afraid of touching his arm. He couldn’t spare a thought for embarrassment.
“This is too hard.” Finally free of the top, Pei Tingsong exhaled a long breath and leaned toward Fang Juexia. “This is too hard.”
Fang Juexia braced him with a hand. “Don’t move around.”
“What about my pants?” Pei Tingsong grabbed his hand and placed it on his waist. “I can’t exactly soak in my jeans, can I?”
He had a point. Fang Juexia was stumped. His fingers felt scorching against the metal buttons. The bathroom was stiflingly hot and humid, suffocatingly stuffy.
It was still spring, yet he felt like he’d stumbled into a sweltering summer day.
The bathroom light bathed Fang Juexia in a clean halo. His long hair was tucked behind his ears, revealing ears flushed a burning red, and the exposed skin of his neck beneath his shirt was a deep crimson.
Why does he blush so easily? What will become of us?
Pei Tingsong’s lips curved slightly as he tilted his head to look at Fang Juexia’s averted face. “Brother, look up at me.”
Fang Juexia held his breath, lifting his head to stare straight at him, an air of righteous resolve suddenly emanating from him.
Pei Tingsong finally couldn’t hold back a laugh, gently bumping his forehead against Fang Juexia’s. “I want ice cream.”
“Now?” Fang Juexia’s eyes were filled with confusion.
“Yep.” Pei Tingsong wrapped his right arm around Fang Juexia’s shoulder, turning him around. “Go get it for me.”
“Is there ice cream in the dorm?”
“I just bought it.” Pei Tingsong said. “Hurry up.”
Baffled by being ordered around, Fang Juexia opened the refrigerator, pulled out a tub of vanilla Häagen-Dazs, grabbed a spoon, and opened the bathroom door. A wave of hot steam hit him. Fang Juexia locked the bathroom door behind him. By the time he approached, Pei Tingsong was already lying in the bathtub, his injured hand resting on the wall-side edge. He tilted his head lazily toward Fang Juexia when he heard the movement.
The moment he saw Fang Juexia, he smiled—a smile that was particularly striking.
“I just picked a random flavor,” Fang Juexia said, walking over to sit on the small stool Pei Tingsong had placed for him. “Why did you buy so much?”
“Didn’t you say you liked it?”
Fang Juexia was just using some force to pry open the ice cream lid when he heard this, and he froze a bit, a blast of cold air hitting his face.
“How did you know?” The ice cream was frozen solid. Fang Juexia tried digging with the scoop, but it wouldn’t budge. “I don’t think I ever mentioned it.”
“During the afternoon presentation, the girls in the back row of the lecture hall were talking about you. They mentioned you every break.” Pei Tingsong, worried his hands were cold, took the ice cream tub from him, placing it on the bathtub shelf before clasping his fingers. “They talked about your zodiac sign, your hobbies, even dug up those campus heartthrob posts from when you were in college. They said you love ice cream in summer, so one girl bought you a whole box of cones to win you over. But you ended up sharing them with the whole class.”
As he spoke, Pei Tingsong grew annoyed. “Pfft, thinking a box of cones could lure you away? Dream on. What a dumb pickup line.”
Fang Juexia chuckled at his teasing. “So buying all this Häagen-Dazs makes you better than her?”
Pei Tingsong leaned closer. “Haagen-Dazs isn’t impressive. I am.”
“Where does this confidence come from?” Fang Juexia laughed helplessly, yet affectionately.
“Didn’t you say you like confident people?” Pei Tingsong replied matter-of-factly. “This is forced confidence.”
His twisted logic left Fang Juexia flustered. He handed him the scoop. “Wait until the ice cream melts a bit before eating it.”
Pei Tingsong took the scoop, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I know. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Whether it was subtle influence or not, Fang Juexia—whose thoughts had always been straightforward—suddenly grasped Pei Tingsong’s double meaning.
Let it melt a bit before eating.
Fang Juexia didn’t know what he’d melt into. When it came to Pei Tingsong, he felt utterly lost within himself. It was terrifying, utterly at odds with his once-predictable, controllable logic.
Yet the unknown held an irresistible allure.
Fear and fascination with the unknown—perhaps a bug hardwired into humanity from the moment of creation.
“What happened here?”
Fang Juexia snapped back to reality, seeing Pei Tingsong holding his hand, his brow furrowed. “Why are there several bruises here?”
The knuckles on the back of his hand were slightly purple, though not very noticeable. Fang Juexia explained, “When you fell, I jumped down too. It was crowded and chaotic, and I got stepped on a few times.”
Pei Tingsong felt heartbroken. He kissed the tiny bruises gently, ever so lightly.
No matter how many times it happened, he would jump again. But he had told the truth, and Pei Tingsong wouldn’t let it go. To placate him first, Fang Juexia could only nod. “I know. I’ll wash your hair.”
He moved the stool closer to the side where Pei Tingsong’s head rested, carefully pouring warm water over it. “Is it too hot?”
“Not hot.”
Squeezing shampoo into his palms, Fang Juexia rubbed his hands together before gently massaging Pei Tingsong’s scalp. Watching his silver-white hair, Fang Juexia smiled. “Didn’t your teacher say anything when you showed up to the presentation looking like this?”
“I wore a hat.” Pei Tingsong added, “The teacher did say something—praised my presentation. Plus, a bunch of girls were secretly taking photos of me. I saw them all.”
“Because you’re handsome.” Fang Juexia’s tone was calm and direct, as if stating a fact. “This hair color looks great too. It reminds me of my favorite anime character from back in the day.”
Pei Tingsong tilted his head back to look at him. “So who looks better—me or him?”
“Hmm…” Fang Juexia looked upward, as if deep in thought. Pei Tingsong was unsatisfied, expecting him to blurt out “me,” so he flicked some water backward, splashing Fang Juexia. Fang Juexia laughed and dodged. “You. You look better.”
Half-hearted.
Pei Tingsong suddenly narrowed one eye. “Ah! It got in my eye. It stings!”
“You asked for it.” Fang Juexia grabbed his clean washcloth, pulling away Pei Tingsong’s hand that reached for his own eyes. “Let me wipe it for you. Don’t move.”
He leaned forward, his upper body close, gently pressing his fingers against Pei Tingsong’s upper eyelid. The index finger of his other hand, wrapped in the towel, dabbed a few times. “Better now?”
Suddenly, a hand gripped the back of his neck. Pei Tingsong lifted his head and kissed his forehead before releasing him. “All done.”
Fang Juexia straightened up, instinctively covering his own forehead. “You lied to me again?”
“No.” Pei Tingsong tilted his head back, smiling at him. “I really did get it in my eye just now.”
Always so passive. Fang Juexia silently grumbled for a moment, then warned him, “Don’t move. I’m going to rinse it out for you.”
“Can you even keep track? How many do I owe you now, math whiz?”
He was referring to the number of kisses. Fang Juexia knew exactly what he meant, but he pretended not to hear. Inside his head, the little clock transformed into a small ledger, and the count jumped by one.
“Who said I was counting?”
Hot water flowed between his fingertips and through his hair. The foam couldn’t hold it back, sliding down his wrist.
Fang Juexia’s gaze drifted involuntarily. Pei Tingsong closed his eyes. Two long, thick lashes framed his sharp yet youthful facial features—a rare combination. Below, his muscles were full and defined. Fang Juexia couldn’t help glancing over. Pei Tingsong had his eyes closed, two thick, long lashes framing them. His sharp yet boyish facial features were rare, extending downward into his well-defined muscles, half-submerged in the foam.
“You’re done rinsing.” Fang Juexia wiped his face with a towel. “I’m stepping out. Don’t soak too long.”
“No way.” Pei Tingsong sat up abruptly, his wet hair flinging water onto Fang Juexia. “Don’t leave.” He picked up the ice cream box. “This is ready to eat. Just sit here, have some ice cream, and stay with me a little longer.”
Fang Juexia couldn’t resist him. “They’ll be back soon.”
“They won’t be back that soon,” Pei Tingsong said, holding the ice cream box. “Besides, what’s there to fear? We’re not doing anything.” The steam from the bathroom had melted the ice cream inside the tub, turning it soft and mushy. He scooped out a bit for himself, then took a larger scoop and held it to Fang Juexia’s lips.
They really hadn’t done anything.
They’d just helped Pei Tingsong bathe, listened to him talk, and stayed to eat ice cream.
Fang Juexia wasn’t used to being fed, especially by the youngest member of the team. This feeling of being cared for was a bit strange. With the ice cream already at his lips, he could only part his mouth and take the bite. The milky-white ice cream clung to his lips, soft and sticky.
When Pei Tingsong looked up, his heart warmed. He set the ice cream aside. “You’ve got some on your lips.”
Fang Juexia instinctively reached to touch his lips. “Where?”
“Right here.” Pei Tingsong didn’t point with his finger. Instead, the moment the words left his lips, he leaned in and licked the melted cream off Fang Juexia’s lips.
Stunned, Fang Juexia watched him pull away, saw him brush his damp hair back, and smile at him.
“Too sweet.”
His body ignited in an instant, his blood boiling under the bathroom’s harsh glare. The scene replayed relentlessly in Fang Juexia’s mind, his heart pounding so hard it threatened to burst.
“You eat it yourself.” Fang Juexia tried to rise, but Pei Tingsong grabbed his wrist. “Trying to run away already? I haven’t done anything yet.”
Running away seemed pathetic, like he couldn’t handle a little teasing. The stubborn streak in Fang Juexia’s bones flared up at the thought. He looked at Pei Tingsong, gathering all his courage. “What else do you want to do?”
“There’s plenty I want to do. We’ll take it one step at a time.” Pei Tingsong massaged his wrist, where a thin layer of skin covered the protruding bone. His thumb rubbed against it with a uniquely delicate sensation—a kind of fragile, intensely youthful sensuality.
“You know this is my first time dating. I’m a complete novice in every way. Everything has to start from scratch. We need to practice slowly.“ Pei Tingsong raised an eyebrow, drawing closer amid the splashing water. His injured hand rested on the bathtub rim, droplets glistening on his skin under the warm bathroom light. ”Aren’t you quite skilled at practicing? How about we practice kissing?”
Fang Juexia felt completely overwhelmed. His mind buzzed like an explosion. He couldn’t fathom how Pei Tingsong could utter such words so casually. They were worlds apart—his behavior defied any logical explanation.
The other pressed his advantage. “Silence means consent.”
“Pei Tingsong.” Fang Juexia couldn’t muster any harsh words, only managing to use his full name.
“Yes?” Pei Tingsong smiled, seamlessly continuing his earlier suggestion with logical reasoning. “Look, you’re three years older than me. As my older brother, you naturally know more than I do. Teach me how to kiss?”
“Me?” Fang Juexia’s throat tightened. He had no experience either. Could this even be determined by age?
“…I’ve never kissed before either. I don’t know how.” Fang Juexia pressed his lips together.
“Right, you’re a beginner too. So what should we do?” Pei Tingsong sighed deliberately, then suddenly seemed to think of something. “Hey, how about this? Let’s have a contest. One try each, see who’s better. Whoever wins gets to teach.”
Fang Juexia’s ears flushed crimson. “How exactly do we compete?”
A kissing contest? It sounded absurd just to hear it.
Pei Tingsong, however, took it dead seriously, brimming with enthusiasm. “Since there’s no third person, we’ll have to judge each other. Here’s how: we each take the initiative once. You go first.” “With that, he leaned in close to Fang Juexia, as if waiting for something.
“I’m not competing,” Fang Juexia clung to his last shred of clarity. “Winning wouldn’t even matter.”
“Who says?” Pei Tingsong coaxed him. “If I win, I’ll do whatever you say. Okay, big brother?”
This was clearly no worthwhile bargaining chip, no matter how you looked at it. Fang Juexia, a man who judged and decided everything based on reason, lost his head whenever he encountered Pei Tingsong. Logic had long been cast to the winds. Especially when he called him “brother”—it was like grabbing him by the throat.
“…Just one round.” Fang Juexia replied, eyes lowered.
“Agreed, just one round.” Pei Tingsong smiled contentedly. “One round decides it. You go first.”
After a few seconds of hesitation, Fang Juexia felt his breathing grow uneven. He was several years older than Pei Tingsong—he shouldn’t be this flustered. With that thought, he covered Pei Tingsong’s eyes with his hand, gathered his courage, and leaned in to press his lips against his.
He knew this was nothing special, barely registering on the scale of kisses. So he strained to recall relevant images in his mind, but his knowledge in this area was woefully inadequate. Even giving it his all, he could only manage a fleeting taste. A gentle nibble was his absolute limit.
That bite was Fang Juexia’s limit, yet in Pei Tingsong’s perception, it was pure temptation—simple and clumsy.
“That’s it. I’m done.” Fang Juexia pulled away, his cheeks burning, and withdrew his hand.
“Okay.” “ Pei Tingsong cracked his neck. ”Contestant Number Two, Pei Tingsong, is ready.”
Fang Juexia stood at a distance, wary like a small animal hearing a hunter’s footsteps. Pei Tingsong wanted to laugh. “Hey, considering Contestant Number Two is competing injured, could you move a bit closer? Do me a favor.”
Hearing this, Fang Juexia moved slightly closer. “I forgot.”
“It’s fine.” The words barely left his lips before Pei Tingsong reached out his right hand to grip the nape of Fang Juexia’s neck. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against the other’s, enveloping him in the damp heat of his breath and the respectful aggression of an opponent’s advance. The carefully laid trap became slippery and soft in that instant. Probing deeper than ever before, it swept away every last bit of oxygen, leaving no room for resistance, none at all.
Whether by coincidence or divine punishment for their transgression, a sound came from outside—the door to the dormitory closing. His hearing became abnormally sharp in that instant. Through the bathroom door, Fang Jixia heard it with unusual clarity. He heard Lu Yuan place his keys on the entryway cabinet, change his shoes, and walk inside.
No. He tried to push Pei Tingsong away forcefully, to interrupt this absurd and unjust contest.
But it was useless. He was merely prey that had jumped into a trap.
“Is anyone there?”
Through the door and wall, Lu Yuan’s voice grew clearer. “Xiao Pei, are you in the room?”
The culprit was now hiding in the bathroom, too busy to respond.
The voice outside shifted to uncertain muttering, “Could he be wearing headphones again… How strange, where did my phone charger go…”
Fang Juexia’s hand lay limply against his chest. What had started as a push ended up feeling like a reluctant invitation. Softness intertwined and stirred, pulling him down like a whirlpool. The more he struggled, the deeper he sank.
The lingering scent of cream mingled with their dampened heartbeats.
Pei Tingsong’s fingers gently kneaded the soft tendon at the base of his neck. For some reason, it felt like the sole tendon holding him upright—one touch, and Fang Juexia went limp.
Ice cream melted on his lips, and he melted into Pei Tingsong’s embrace.
Sensitive nerves relaxed and numbed amidst their entanglement, teetering on the brink of a soul-losing state. But suddenly, Lu Yuan’s voice drew near again—this time closer, almost at the door.
“It’s so hot.”
The bathroom lock clicked. Fang Juexia jolted awake. Fear of being caught made him struggle desperately, trying to push Pei Tingsong’s shoulders away. But it was useless. This stubborn little devil feared no one.
“Wait, is someone in there?”
“Little Pei?”
The voice, amplified by humidity and atmosphere, lingered in his ears, doubling the assault alongside the physical sensations. The pressure intensified relentlessly. Fang Juexia felt like a character in a game, his health bar steadily retreating, shrinking, shrinking further, until it hovered on the brink of zero.
Pei Tingsong released his grip, the hand that had been pressed against his neck sliding down his back. He called out to the outside as if nothing had happened, “Brother Yuan, I’m in here, taking a bath.”
“I was wondering where you’d gotten to,” Lu Yuan called from outside. “Are your hands free?”
“I’m fine, don’t worry.”
“Alright then. Call me if you need anything. I’m off to play a game.”
With that last sentence, Lu Yuan’s footsteps gradually faded away. Separated by just a single door, it had been far too close for comfort. Fang Juexia’s hand slid down, gripping the wet edge of the bathtub as he gasped for breath. His head spun, the bathroom air felt thin, and that pounding sensation in his chest refused to fade.
Pei Tingsong wrapped an arm around him, flashing Fang Juexia a smile as he gently wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb.
“Did I win, Brother?”
His eyes held an unquenchable fire, burning bright in the damp rainy season.
Fang Juexia struggled to steady his breathing. His forehead felt hot and damp—he couldn’t tell if it was sweat or condensation. He skipped the question of victory entirely, because this had never been a fair contest.
“Scared?” Pei Tingsong bent down, brushing hair clinging to his cheek.
“We almost got caught,” Fang Juexia whispered, exhaling softly.
“That’s what makes it thrilling,” Pei Tingsong arched an eyebrow. “Doesn’t it feel like we’re having an affair?”
“Not to me.” He countered with sarcasm, trying to escape the awkward implication, feigning accusation as he challenged him, “Is this really your first time in love?”
Pei Tingsong enjoyed seeing him question him like this, with that hint of petulant temper—something the usual Fang Juexia never showed, something no one else ever saw.
“Why do you ask? Don’t you believe me?”
Fang Juexia lifted his eyes to meet his. “Because you don’t look like a beginner at all.” He deliberately reached up and pinched his neck. “Tell me, where did you learn this?”
“Do I even need to learn?” Pei Tingsong curved his lips, wrapping his arms around Fang Juexia’s waist to pull him closer.
“Just seeing you is enough to graduate.”
