The two were mad with passion, their reason consumed by the flames of desire until only instinct and craving remained. Zhou Ziheng had lost count of how many times they’d made love. Dawn was breaking when Xia Xiqing finally collapsed, utterly drained, and fell into a deep sleep. Zhou Ziheng held him tightly, terrified that the next moment, this person would vanish before his eyes.
He realized how deeply he loved him now—so deeply it filled him with guilt. So deeply it had made him lose himself.
He slept restlessly. Though he’d been rushing to finish pre-production work these past days, getting only three or four hours of sleep each night, and had spent the entire previous night in turmoil, Zhou Ziheng still couldn’t sink into deep slumber. Like a raft bobbing on the ocean’s surface, rocking and rolling, unable to reach shore.
His dreams were filled with Xia Xiqing’s face—defiant, sly, fragile, passionate. Each expression felt so vivid, yet blurred.
In the end, they all vanished.
It turned out this raft wasn’t drifting toward the open sea, but toward a waterfall cliff. The rushing water left him gasping for breath, forced to watch helplessly as he plunged into the abyss beneath the torrent, the icy pool engulfing his body.
Zhou Ziheng opened his eyes, slowly reaching up to wipe the corner of his eye. Cool to the touch, like the pool water from his dream.
Xia Xiqing lay beside him, sleeping soundly on his side, facing Zhou Ziheng. Zhou Ziheng reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from his cheek. His fingers lightly touched Xia Xiqing’s profile, his heart gradually returning to its normal rhythm.
Zhou Ziheng gazed silently at his profile, neither touching nor speaking. His eyes drifted slowly over the delicate brow bone, the high bridge of the nose, the distinct double eyelid crease visible even with eyes closed, and the tiny mole on the tip of his nose.
He caught sight of the bruise on Xia Xiqing’s jawline and startled inwardly—a mark left from where he’d gripped him yesterday. Zhou Ziheng couldn’t resist gently lifting the blanket. The pale body was covered in traces of their passion: the side of his neck, collarbone, chest, even his back—everywhere marked with kisses he’d left.
Several small bruises marked Xia Xiqing’s waist, imprints from where he’d gripped him last night. A night of uncontrolled passion had cast aside both reason and restraint. Recalling the scene, Zhou Ziheng realized he’d lost all sense of restraint in the end, utterly consumed by desire.
As he reached to pull the blanket up over Xia Xiqing, guilt threatened to overwhelm him. He shouldn’t have done this. It was wrong. Yet whenever he remembered Xia Xiqing’s words—about trying to contact people whose names he didn’t even know to do these things for him—his heart ached unbearably. He didn’t want to be angry either. He had tried to control himself. But whenever he encountered Xia Xiqing, he lost his mind.
In that moment when both of them were nearly spent, he actually wished the world would end right then. At least that way, Xia Xiqing wouldn’t leave. He would die with him.
It was terrifying.
Tentatively, he reached out, his fingertips curling around Xia Xiqing’s fingers, the pad of his thumb gently rubbing against the other’s slender hand.
When he woke up, he’d probably be furious. He was such a proud man.
Perhaps this was the end between them.
[Zhou Ziheng, do we have a relationship?]
[We started out just messing around.]
[I’ve had enough of you now.]
He couldn’t fathom the emotion behind Xia Xiqing’s words, but he could imagine how Xia Xiqing had once scorned those who offered him their hearts. They must have heard similar words too—perhaps even harsher, more blunt.
Zhou Ziheng extended a finger, gently brushing the small mole on Xia Xiqing’s nose. Slowly drawing nearer, he pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Why did he become obsessed with someone so cruel?
Xia Xiqing didn’t know how long he’d slept. When he awoke, his head pounded fiercely, and the world wasn’t as bright as he’d imagined. His consciousness hadn’t fully returned to this body yet, but his first instinct was to tentatively extend his arms.
No one else was there—only himself.
Xia Xiqing found it laughable. He mocked that overly hopeful version of himself with all his might. What was he deluding himself about? He’d just slept with Zhou Ziheng. Beyond a physical connection, what other possibility could there be between them?
He was dressed in clean pajamas. This bed, this bedroom, wasn’t as chaotic as he’d imagined. Yet Xia Xiqing felt even more miserable. Should he be grateful that it was Zhou Ziheng who had taken him last night? At least Zhou’s utterly kind heart would make him gentle enough, considerate enough, not leaving him feeling utterly wretched.
His throat felt parched, as if on fire. He tried to push himself up, only to discover his entire body ached, his bones feeling like they might fall apart. Glancing down at himself, he saw a vast expanse of purple-black kiss marks across his chest. Xia Xiqing could scarcely bear to recall the absurd events of that night. Zhou Ziheng had been like a different person.
He kept repeating that phrase.
[You only have me.]
How could that be? If he wanted, he could have so many others.
So many, too many to count.
His headache intensified. He wanted home. This bed reeked of Zhou Ziheng’s scent, making him dizzy. With great effort, he sat up, his legs trembling.
He couldn’t believe it—Xia Xiqing had actually let a man have him, begging for it. His pride was shattered into dust. He dared not recall the details of that night; he’d been nothing but a worthless piece of trash, completely at the mercy of another.
After sitting for a long while, waiting to regain his strength, Xia Xiqing finally made his way downstairs, leaning against the wall for support. Each step was agonizingly difficult, his legs shaking violently. Inside, he couldn’t help but curse himself.
Damn Zhou Ziheng was relentless. That twenty-year-old kid had no regard for his own life when it came to this.
He’d completely forgotten that the one who’d been reckless that night was actually himself—the one who’d clung on, begging for more.
He’d told himself not to expect anything, but as Xia Xiqing descended the stairs, the thought still crossed his mind: What if Zhou Ziheng was downstairs? What if he was sitting on the sofa? He’d have to pull himself together, not look like a little chick that’d been raped. Act tough—treat it like a change of pace.
But Zhou Ziheng wasn’t downstairs. Xia Xiqing only saw his neatly folded clothes on the sofa and a bowl of cold milk.
He was a big star, after all. This much was already more than generous. Only a good-natured person like Zhou Ziheng would go this far. Be grateful.
After a quick wash, he tossed the toiletries into the trash, leaned against the wall to exit the bathroom, and sat down on the sofa. This time, there wasn’t even a note. Xia Xiqing understood. After all, Zhou Ziheng had never liked men before. Maybe he’d tried it once and still couldn’t accept it.
He moved slowly to change into his own clothes. They seemed freshly laundered, carrying only the scent of grapefruit-scented detergent.
His throat felt parched. Xia Xiqing hung his pajamas over the armrest, took a sip of milk, then stood up to head home.
Why did he feel so wronged inside?
Xia Xiqing hadn’t even noticed that in the past, the first thing he’d do upon waking would be to kill that reckless bastard. But now, his mind was filled only with Zhou Ziheng—part of him wanted to know where he’d gone, yet another part refused to think about him.
His back ached so badly he couldn’t bend down, forcing him to sit on the entryway steps to change his shoes. Seeing the well-worn cotton slippers only made Xia Xiqing feel worse. He just wanted to leave this place filled with Zhou Ziheng’s traces as quickly as possible. He’d go drink himself into oblivion, then find someone else…
Suddenly, Zhou Ziheng’s furious face flashed through his mind.
Xia Xiqing placed his hand on the doorknob, still trembling from the shock. Before he could turn it, the door opened from the outside. He froze. Standing there was none other than Zhou Ziheng.
He was dressed entirely in black—a black T-shirt, black jeans, a black baseball cap, and a black mask. His right arm was covered by a long black sleeve, like the kind worn for basketball. Perhaps it was the monochrome palette, but today he radiated a cold aura, thick with hostility.
Zhou Ziheng carried two bulging shopping bags, clearly not expecting to run into him. His eyes lit up for a second at the sight of Xia Xiqing, neatly dressed, before darkening instantly.
Without removing his mask, Zhou Ziheng spoke in a muffled voice, head bowed, “Stay for dinner before you go. It’ll be ready soon.”
Though he said this, Zhou Ziheng didn’t bother to close the door behind him, leaving it wide open. If Xia Xiqing chose to leave, he wouldn’t stop him.
Watching him carry his bags inside without a second thought, Xia Xiqing stood frozen in place for a moment.
So he’d gone to the supermarket?
Standing here felt awkward, going in felt awkward, and going straight home seemed even more awkward. Xia Xiqing stood at the doorway, listening to Zhou Ziheng tidying things up. Somehow, his mind wandered, and before he knew it, he slammed the door shut.
The loud bang startled even Xia Xiqing himself, but regret came too late. He forced himself to look completely unaffected, walking slowly back into the living room. Just as he was about to sit down, Zhou Ziheng suddenly approached, holding something in his hand.
“What the hell?” Better not to speak at all. The moment he opened his mouth, Xia Xiqing realized his voice was completely shot.
Zhou Ziheng circled behind him and pulled Xia Xiqing’s white dress shirt out from where it was tucked into his suit pants.
“Hey! What are you doing…”
Two medicated patches were stuck to his waist. Xia Xiqing twisted his head to look as Zhou Ziheng let go of his clothes.
“You drank the milk.” Zhou Ziheng frowned. He’d been gone so long—the milk must be cold by now. Given Xia Xiqing’s lazy nature, he’d probably just drink it cold.
Xia Xiqing misinterpreted the meaning, regretting he’d touched the milk left for him. He stubbornly denied it. “No.”
“Is that so?” Zhou Ziheng brushed a finger across the milk ring around Xia Xiqing’s lips, then walked silently toward the kitchen without another word. Caught in his lie, Xia Xiqing rubbed his lips repeatedly with the back of his hand, his heart racing.
For some reason, Zhou Ziheng felt off somehow.
The patch was working, warmth radiating around his waist. Just as Xia Xiqing was about to head to the kitchen, his phone buzzed. Opening WeChat, he saw a friend request from someone with a profile picture of the character “Ke” spelled out in matchsticks. Xia Xiqing couldn’t recall knowing anyone with “Ke” in their name.
While he was away, his phone had several missed calls. Among them were one or two from Xia Xiuze and Xu Qichen, but also an unknown number that had called four or five times.
He checked the numbers, then switched back to WeChat to look at the friend request.
Sure enough, it was the same number. Who was this person, and why were they persistently trying to reach him?
Xia Xiqing didn’t bother to dwell on it. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, walked into the restaurant, and sat down at the small table. His gaze once again fell upon the bouquet of paper roses.
They weren’t real roses. Devoid of life, they would never fade or wither.
Forever blooming beautifully in his heart.
He suddenly stood up and said to Zhou Ziheng in the kitchen, “I’ve no appetite now. I’m leaving.”
Zhou Ziheng emerged and stood in the doorway, oddly still wearing his mask, his voice even colder than before.
“You were unconscious for two days. You have to eat something.”
What business is it of yours? Xia Xiqing furrowed his brow, opening his mouth but holding back the words. Such harsh remarks would only make him look foolish if spoken while sober. Zhou Ziheng stood as if determined not to let him leave, leaving Xia Xiqing with no choice.
He sat back down at the table, pulled out his phone, and found a message from Ruan Xiao.
[Ruan Xiao: Xiqing, are you awake? Are you okay?]
[Ruan Xiao: You’re not seriously hurt, right? We’re all worried sick about you.]
[Ruan Xiao: Oh, and that guy who helped rescue me that night? He’s Zhou Ziheng’s childhood friend. He needs to talk to you. Add him on WeChat.]
So that was the guy who’d been secretly watching him all night. Xia Xiqing added him as a friend, and the other party quickly sent a message.
[Zhao Ke: Xia Xiqing, are you awake? Are you okay?]
[Xia Xiqing: I guess I’m fine. Thanks for helping me that night.]
[Zhao Ke: No problem. Where’s Hengheng? Did you see him? Has he contacted you?]
Hengheng? He sure calls him affectionately. First his first love, now his childhood buddy—Zhou Ziheng’s childhood was quite eventful.
Xia Xiqing strolled leisurely into the kitchen with his phone, leaned against the doorframe, snapped a photo of Zhou Ziheng’s back, and sent it to him.
Not long after, Zhao Ke, anxiously waiting at home for news, received the photo from Xia Xiqing.
[Xia Xiqing: Your little Hengheng is making dinner for me right now.]
What kind of love attack is this? Zhao Ke scowled. I’m on your side! Despite this, he still sent Ruan Xiao a screenshot of his chat with Xia Xiqing. When CP ships share sweet moments, you gotta ship them together.
Xia Xiqing felt speechless. If he wanted to contact Zhou Ziheng, why not reach out to him directly? Why insist on going through him? They were both called Hengheng, after all. Thinking this, he suddenly felt annoyed. He exited the chat interface and happened to glance at Zhou Ziheng’s chat window below.
He couldn’t resist tapping his profile picture—that little rose folded from tissues.
Displeasure spiraled into a vicious cycle. Xia Xiqing shut down WeChat altogether. Out of sight, out of mind. Returning to the table, he pulled the deep blue placemat from beneath the cutlery set and draped it over the paper roses.
Zhou Ziheng emerged carrying pesto pasta and immediately spotted the covered flowers. He placed Xia Xiqing’s portion before him, sat across from him, and lifted the tablecloth from the bouquet.
Just as Xia Xiqing was about to explode, he watched Zhou Ziheng take the flowers and toss them silently into the trash can beside the table. He stared blankly at Zhou Ziheng, utterly stunned by this unexpected action.
“Hey… what are you doing…?”
Zhou Ziheng returned to the kitchen, brought out the remaining salad and juice, and only then sat down.
“If you don’t like them, just throw them away.”
But didn’t you really like them? Xia Xiqing couldn’t fathom Zhou Ziheng’s thoughts at all. Didn’t these flowers hold special meaning?
“You had someone fold these roses, right? And your portrait too. You put so much effort into them. Why did you throw them away?” Xia Xiqing reached out to retrieve the bouquet but was stopped by Zhou Ziheng.
“I folded each one myself. But now I feel they hold no meaning.”
Why? Xia Xiqing sat back awkwardly, utterly confused. What he didn’t know was that Zhou Ziheng remembered every word he’d spoken that night—including the line, [Remember who I am.]
In an instant, he understood: Xia Xiqing mistakenly believed he was using him as a substitute for that girl. It was a thought that disgusted him, but the truth was, his heart had truly changed. Now, Xia Xiqing was the only one in his heart. Though he lacked the courage to voice it now, he couldn’t let Xia Xiqing continue under this misunderstanding.
“Let’s eat. You must be starving.”
Xia Xiqing watched him keep his head bowed. “Why are you still wearing that mask and hat? Doesn’t it make you feel suffocated?” To ease the awkwardness, Xia Xiqing even cracked a joke first. “You wouldn’t be embarrassed, would you? Hey, who was it that came on to me? Me or you? I’m not embarrassed at all—what are you so awkward about?”
Zhou Ziheng removed his mask, still keeping his head bowed.
“Or do you feel guilty toward me?” Xia Xiqing’s tone held a hint of uncertainty. There was nothing to feel guilty about. Though it went against his expectations, Zhou Ziheng had done this only after receiving his explicit consent.
He gave a dry chuckle, putting on a magnanimous front. “Don’t make me sound like some girl you’ve taken advantage of. Sure, I was drugged, but it was consensual. Besides, you were trying to help me. No matter how scummy I am, I’m still reasonable.”
“Besides, we’re both guys. I’m not going to hold a gun to your head demanding you take responsibility.”
He twirled a strand of pasta with his fork. “If you really feel guilty, just let me take the lead next time. Isn’t that what our relationship is anyway?”
Yeah. That’s exactly what it was. Saying it out loud made it feel lighter somehow.
Getting all coy after being taken once just wasn’t Xia Xiqing’s style.
Zhou Ziheng finally lifted his head, his eyes beneath the brim of his cap filled with complexity. He seemed to want to say something, but ultimately held back.
Only then did Xia Xiqing notice the cut on his lip—clearly a souvenir from a fight. “Hey, what happened to your face?”
Zhou Ziheng didn’t answer. He glanced at his watch, then lowered his head and spoke to himself, “You eat first. Eat more.”
He stood up, placed the bulging shopping bag on a nearby chair, and began pulling items out one by one. “This is ointment for bruises. Apply it twice a day. This ointment reduces inflammation and swelling. Apply it below—I’ve already used it on you. You’ll need to apply it yourself these next couple of days.”
“That bastard’s drugs had side effects. You slept for two whole days straight. You haven’t eaten anything these past two days, so your constitution must be severely weakened. Here are vitamins and nutritional supplements. Take them home and eat them. I know you might not listen, but I have to say it: avoid spicy foods these next two days, and absolutely no alcohol or cigarettes. I can’t be certain the drug’s effects have fully worn off—there might still be hidden side effects. Don’t treat your body like it’s nothing.”
He rattled off a long list of instructions, each point meticulously covered, as if preparing for a long journey. Xia Xiqing was a bit confused. “I slept for two days… I thought there were still a few days before we actually started filming? Where are you going now?” His gaze swept over Zhou Ziheng’s hands, noticing the injuries on his knuckles. “And what exactly did you go do?”
“Nothing important.” Zhou Ziheng pushed the pumpkin soup toward Xia Xiqing, abruptly changing the subject. “By the way, Director Kun told me you’ve decided to join the crew. If you haven’t changed your mind, we’ll see each other on set.”
“On set?” Xia Xiqing frowned. “Where have you been these past two days?”
“I’ll be swamped with work these days, flying all over the place. Probably won’t be home much.” Zhou Ziheng shoveled a few hurried bites of noodles into his mouth. Xia Xiqing noticed the distinctly awkward way he held the fork in his right hand.
“Really? So you won’t be coming back at all these days?”
Zhou Ziheng looked up at him, thinking he didn’t believe his words. He pulled out his key card and pushed it toward him. “Take it if you need anything.”
“What could I possibly need? It sounds like I don’t have a home of my own.” Xia Xiqing smiled and lowered his head to eat his noodles. Zhou Ziheng hummed in acknowledgment, barely touching his own plate before taking it to the kitchen.
Xia Xiqing’s phone rang—that unfamiliar number again. He answered and asked, “Zhao Ke?”
“Yeah, it’s Zhao Ke. Why didn’t you reply to my messages? Is Ziheng still at your place?”
Xia Xiqing finished the last bite of noodles. “To be precise, I’m at his place.”
“Fine, fine. Is he okay? Did he get hurt?”
“If you care so much, why didn’t you call him yourself?” Xia Xiqing leaned back in his chair, his voice hoarse with impatience.
Zhao Ke was the one who lost his temper first. “If I could reach him, would I be bothering you? Damn, you scared the hell out of me! I was in class when the group chat blew up. They said he went alone to Wei Min’s place and beat the crap out of him, sending him straight to the hospital. Holy shit, if it weren’t for Zhou Ziheng’s brother taking the fall and shutting down all the gossip, Zhou Ziheng would be trending on Weibo today!”
What…
“He went alone?” Xia Xiqing asked, slow to react.
“Yeah. He didn’t even call me. I was the last to know. Fucking pisses me off.“ Zhao Ke cursed a bit before feeling sorry for Zhou Ziheng again. ”Things are sensitive lately. He must’ve been afraid of dragging our family into it, so he didn’t call me. He went in alone, took down the driver and security guards, and just focused on beating Wei Min to a pulp. I heard from Wei Min’s townhouse buddy that Zhou Ziheng was like a madman, eyes bloodshot. Wei Min begged for mercy, but he wouldn’t stop. He ran over to pull him off, afraid someone would get killed.”
Xia Xiqing froze at the dining table, speechless.
“He must’ve told you all this too. I gotta hand it to the kid—he beat someone to the hospital, got hurt himself, then turned around and came back to cook for you.” Zhao Ke sighed. “Word’s spread like wildfire in the circle. His dad’s furious. Zhou Ziheng’s never caused trouble his whole life—never even raised his voice, let alone gotten into a fight. Now he’s gone off the rails like this. His dad wants him to apologize, but he refuses to go. Won’t admit he’s wrong…” You have no idea how strict his upbringing is…”
“So how is he handling it now…”
“I just called his brother. His dad’s locking him up at home for a few days, confiscated his phone, and won’t let him leave until he starts filming. But he told his brother he needed to go home for something important and would come back on his own to face the consequences. I’m trying to catch a glimpse of him before the confinement starts, just to see if he’s badly hurt…”
Before Zhao Ke could finish, Xia Xiqing hung up and dialed Zhou Ziheng’s number. Sure enough, it was turned off.
He rose from the table and walked calmly to the kitchen. Zhou Ziheng stood at the counter, pouring honey into a glass jar filled with lemon slices. Hearing Xia Xiqing’s footsteps, he capped the jar and turned his head slightly to explain, “Your voice is too hoarse. You need to rest it for a few days. This is good for your throat. Put it in the fridge or it’ll spoil.” He still couldn’t shake his concern. “How about this? I’ll take all this stuff over to your place. I’m afraid after all I’ve said here, you might end up…”
“Zhou Ziheng, is this really necessary?” Xia Xiqing’s voice was hoarse, tinged with an almost imperceptible tremor.
“Huh?” Zhou Ziheng didn’t grasp his meaning. “Oh, you mean this stuff? These are just little things, nothing to worry about.” He lowered his head after speaking, took a deep breath like a child who’d done something wrong, and said, “I’m sorry.”
“You…”
“I regret it deeply. I also received that invitation to the art salon that day. I should have gone. None of this would have happened afterward. But what I truly need to apologize for is what I did to you later. Even though you said it wasn’t your fault, I know you’re a very strong-willed person. No matter who did this to you, it must have been incredibly hard to accept. I don’t know how to make it up to you. Once we join the production team, you can…”
“Zhou Ziheng.” Xia Xiqing stepped before him, seized his right hand, and pulled off the black wrist guard. Bandages were wrapped around it, soaked through with blood. “Before you apologize, can you explain these injuries?”
These wounds were actually caused by shards flying up when he smashed the windshield with a baseball bat. He hadn’t had time to properly treat them, and they’d been torn open again during the fight.
He muttered, “It’s not really that bad. It just looks scary. It’ll be fine in two days.” He let Xia Xiqing hold his hand, feeling a tiny flicker of happiness deep inside. At least he cared.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with sincerity. “I was furious then. I lashed out at you and said some awful things. I didn’t really mean them… or… Anyway, thinking back now, I feel like a complete piece of trash.”
Xia Xiqing recalled the furious words he’d hurled at him then, his brow instinctively furrowing.
［You only have me. You only have me.］
“So you’re saying none of those words you spoke back then were your true feelings?”
Zhou Ziheng’s eyes widened slightly. He opened his mouth. “I…” How could he admit that back then, he truly had felt that way? That he genuinely wanted to kill everyone who harbored improper thoughts toward him? That he even wanted to kill Xia Xiqing for seeking others?
“I…”
An unfamiliar ringtone suddenly interrupted Zhou Ziheng’s almost-spoken words. Xia Xiqing took a deep breath. “Answer it.”
Zhou Ziheng pulled a phone from his pants pocket. Xia Xiqing recognized at a glance it wasn’t his usual one. The caller ID displayed three characters: Zhou Zijin.
The voice on the other end was cold, hard, and low. “Underground garage. Two minutes. Come down.”
Zhou Ziheng grunted in acknowledgment and hung up. His expression was painfully sorrowful. He wanted to explain these past days to Xia Xiqing, yet found no way to articulate it. He wanted to say he’d rushed back like a madman, terrified Xia Xiqing had already left. Even so, he’d still thought to buy him medicine and cook for him, even knowing there was a high chance Xia Xiqing had fled.
But he had made it back in time, just before Xia Xiqing could leave. Words choked in his throat, and he didn’t know where to begin. Compared to mentioning his affair with Wei Min, Xia Xiqing’s health mattered far more.
“I have to go to work.” Zhou Ziheng’s hanging hands clenched into fists as his voice fell. “Take care of yourself. And…” He hesitated. “Can I hug you…”
The unspoken request dissolved into an intimate kiss, sweetness tinged with a hint of blood. Xia Xiqing’s arms tightened around Zhou Ziheng’s back, ending the fleeting touch. Xia Xiqing slipped his hands into his suit pockets, pressing his forehead against Zhou Ziheng’s and lightly brushing his nose against Zhou’s. “When time is short…”
In those beautiful pupils, Zhou Ziheng saw only himself.
“Cut the crap. Kiss me.”
