Chapter 21
Back in high school, Xiao Yao had already shot up to 1.8 meters. Tall and good-looking, he’d attracted plenty of admirers of all genders purely by virtue of his innate advantages.
At the time, same-sex marriage hadn’t yet been legalized nationwide. Still, as society’s mindset gradually shifted, more and more people were coming out publicly and living their truth.
Li Yi was one of them — he came out so loudly and proudly that everyone knew about it. And then, just as loudly, he got beaten up so badly that everyone knew about that too.
To his credit, Li Yi took it all in stride. His family, after venting their frustrations, eventually accepted the situation. After all, a twisted melon isn’t sweet; there was no point in forcing him.
So, Li Yi went on living as he pleased, flitting from one crush to another like a butterfly in a garden, never settling down — at least not until Xiao Yao beat him up.
It was only then that he finally toned things down.
Li Yi sported a black eye for two whole weeks, burning through multiple tubes of concealer. Even so, he didn’t dare go home on the weekends.
“I didn’t even say anything, and you hit me that hard. If I’d actually said it out loud, would you have killed me?” Li Yi had wailed at the time.
If Li Yi had said it out loud, Xiao Yao probably wouldn’t have killed him.
He would’ve run.
Run far, far away.
This all happened back in sophomore year. But Xiao Yao had actually figured out his feelings much earlier — back in middle school.
Unlike Li Yi, who had the freedom to be open, Xiao Yao had no one he could talk to about it. He buried it deep, refusing to let it surface.
But now, a certain little ball of fluff was quietly tugging at that hidden thread of emotion.
A feeling, still faint and uncertain, had begun to take root.
The hour hand slowly inched towards ten o’clock, and Ti Xiao’s third IV bag was nearly empty. He slept soundly, headphones on, not even waking when the nurse switched out his drip.
Xiao Yao was just pondering how to wake him when the nurse swiftly pressed down on Ti Xiao’s hand, expertly removing the needle without a hint of hesitation — solving Xiao Yao’s dilemma in an instant.
The sting woke Ti Xiao right up.
Just like last time, he woke up groggy, sitting up with a dazed look as though he’d forgotten what year it was.
With a mask covering half his face and a cap pulled low over his eyes, only his nose peeked out. When he turned his head to look around, the sight was unintentionally comical.
Xiao Yao let out a low chuckle, reaching over to tug Ti Xiao’s hat up slightly.
The first thing Ti Xiao saw was his hand resting on Xiao Yao’s arm — his palm warm, while Xiao Yao’s arm had gone cold.
Ti Xiao hurriedly pulled his hand back. “Sorry, sorry! I move around a lot in my sleep.”
Though he said he pulled away quickly, the reluctance was clear. After all, opportunities like this were rare, a once-in-a-lifetime stroke of luck.
Xiao Yao’s arm was sleekly defined, the muscle taut beneath the skin. Even a brief touch made the underlying strength unmistakable — beautiful in a way that felt almost unreal.
“It’s fine,” Xiao Yao said, lowering his sleeve to cover his slightly stiff arm.
The sweetness in his heart lingered.
The IV treatment needed to continue for three days. On the way back, Ti Xiao sent the medical fees to Xiao Yao via WeChat.
Although they were done for the day, Ti Xiao’s body was still weak. The moment he stepped onto the stairs, his vision blurred, and he nearly toppled backward.
“Careful.” Xiao Yao reacted swiftly, steadying Ti Xiao with a hand at his waist, keeping him upright.
Any fantasy about feeling warmth through thin clothes was thoroughly crushed by the cold season and the thick layers of winter jackets.
“Thanks… I think I’m still a bit dizzy,” Ti Xiao admitted, thinking that would be the end of it — but instead, his words seemed to give Xiao Yao a hint.
That single assist turned into an escort all the way home. And then, somehow, into Xiao Yao stepping inside his apartment.
Oh my god. How did things escalate to the ‘invite him in’ stage this fast?
Ti Xiao’s hand trembled as he fumbled for his keys.
The little cat named Snorer was nowhere to be seen, likely napping in some hidden corner. Meanwhile, Ti Xiao’s eyes landed on a book sitting on the living room’s side table — a figure drawing reference he’d been using for anatomy practice while sketching.
He didn’t even bother changing shoes. He bolted over to destroy the evidence.
Sure, he loved to joke around, but he still had a shred of dignity left.
There was no way he could let Xiao Yao discover he’d been drawing stuff like that.
“Uh… I don’t have bigger slippers,” Ti Xiao said, awkwardly scratching his head. His whole family had small feet, and even his brother, who stood over six feet tall, couldn’t escape their genetics.
“It’s fine.” Xiao Yao neatly placed his shoes beside the chaotic pile of footwear, looking completely out of place.
Seeing that almost a third of Xiao Yao’s foot hung out of the slippers, Ti Xiao scratched his head again. “If it’s uncomfortable, you can just go barefoot… I, uh, I mopped yesterday.”
It was actually last week.
“Make yourself at home — I’ll get you some water,” Ti Xiao said, determined to be a proper host now that they were at his place.
Xiao Yao stood in the living room, quietly taking in his surroundings with curiosity.
Their apartments had mirrored layouts, but despite both living alone, Ti Xiao’s space felt entirely different. His place carried a warmth that Xiao Yao’s home lacked — a warmth that made Xiao Yao want to grasp it and never let go.
Art supplies were scattered everywhere: canvases, paintbrushes, tubes of oil paint, wooden mannequins, and stacks upon stacks of sketch paper piled in the corners, many pages filled with human figure studies.
In one corner of the living room, an easel held an unfinished oil painting of a city skyline at dawn. The dark canvas was streaked with deep blues and blacks, with a golden sun barely cresting the distant horizon. The paint was still drying, and the faint scent of turpentine lingered in the air.
The canvas was slightly tilted — just a bit more, and it would’ve toppled over. Xiao Yao reached out to steady it, only for a book to slide out from behind the frame and fall to the floor.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Ti Xiao had just turned on the faucet. Before his hand even touched the cold water, someone gently took the apple from his hand.
“I’ll do it. You still have the IV site on your hand. It’s better not to touch cold water to avoid infection,” Xiao Yao said, rolling up his sleeves and starting to wash the fruit without waiting for Ti Xiao’s response.
Ti Xiao rubbed at the band-aid covering the tiny needle mark, struggling to imagine how germs could possibly sneak into his body through such a small hole.
Still, what truly left him dizzy was how considerate Xiao Yao was — a little charmer capable of knocking him senseless with kindness.
So, Ti Xiao simply leaned against the counter, watching Xiao Yao wash the fruit. The only sounds filling the room were the gentle rush of water and… the embarrassing growl of Ti Xiao’s stomach.
He hadn’t eaten since noon, and now it was nearly 8 hours later.
When Xiao Yao turned to look at him, Ti Xiao wished he could sink into the floor.
“Hungry?” Xiao Yao asked, seizing the opportunity. “I brought some dumplings I made at school. Want to try them?”
Ti Xiao tamped down his excitement, half-joking, “Did you make them yourself? If not, I’m not eating them.”
Xiao Yao smiled, a little embarrassed, and handed Ti Xiao a freshly washed apple. “I did, but… they might not look great. I hope you don’t mind.”
Mind? Not a chance. If someone as gorgeous as Xiao Yao made them, surely the dumplings were just as perfect, right?
Reality hit hard. The dumplings were, to put it kindly, visually challenging. Some had burst open, spilling their filling into the bowl.
But Ti Xiao wasn’t one to complain. He popped a dumpling into his mouth and gave Xiao Yao an out: “You’re not great at cooking, huh? It’s okay — I’m not either.”
It’s fine, he thought. When we’re together in the future, we can just order takeout.
Xiao Yao, however, took the comment as a cue. He moved the spicy dipping sauce away. “You’re still sick. No spicy food.”
Ti Xiao pouted, contemplating how to plead for his beloved chili back, when Xiao Yao suddenly asked, out of nowhere, “Was breakfast good?”
“Huh?” Ti Xiao nearly choked. Was he planning to regulate my meals now too?
“The porridge this morning,” Xiao Yao clarified. “Did you like it?”
Assuming he meant the delivery, Ti Xiao pulled out his phone, ready to share the restaurant’s name. “Oh, you want the address? I can give you the shop’s name.”
The first part of that sentence made Xiao Yao happy; the second part made him helplessly amused.
What shop? Xiao Yao’s Loving Breakfast Corner?
Before Ti Xiao could find the order history, the screen displayed a glaring “Order Failed” message.
“I made the porridge,” Xiao Yao admitted.
Ti Xiao froze. Then, piecing it together, he realized he’d just implied Xiao Yao couldn’t cook.
But Ti Xiao was nothing if not a master of improvisation. No escape route? He’d dig his own.
“Oh! No wonder it tasted so good!” Ti Xiao beamed, giving a dramatic thumbs-up. “Seriously, ten out of ten — I could drink your porridge every day.”
Xiao Yao chuckled, a low, magnetic sound. “Alright. I’ll make extra water for you tomorrow morning.”
What started as a desperate scramble for an exit turned into an accidental win, and Ti Xiao felt so giddy he could’ve run ten laps around the building.
“Thanks so much,” he said, nodding like a bobblehead.
I like you so much, he thought.
The two sat at the small dining table, the overhead light casting a golden glow over their meal. Good food, good company, and good times — all things that made you want to hold on tight and never let go.
Ti Xiao propped his head on his hand, gazing at Xiao Yao from across the table, the swell of affection inside him growing stronger.
At eleven, Xiao Yao’s phone rang — a reminder he’d set to go to bed. The ringtone was a piano piece, the same one Ti Xiao had been looping in his headphones earlier.
Realizing Xiao Yao had work the next day, Ti Xiao didn’t want to keep him too long.
As Xiao Yao was about to leave, Ti Xiao, feigning casualness, said, “Hey, is the IV tomorrow at the same time? What did the doctor say? I should probably go by myself, right?”
He was fishing. Plain and simple.
And Xiao Yao, the biggest catch, willingly bit the bait. “Around eight. I’ll come get you, and we’ll go together.”
Successfully reeling in his prize, Ti Xiao practically skipped back to bed, barely containing his glee.
Next door, Xiao Yao closed his door, thoughts lingering on the book that had fallen behind the painting.
It was a figure drawing reference book.
The title? **100 Positions for Male Couples.**
