That sudden confession, in a low, seductive voice, made the chat explode with stunned emojis.
“What are you doing?” Ti Xiao gave him a playful tap.
When they first got together, Ti Xiao had bragged on livestream about the nickname “Little Jiujiu,” so the fans all knew it was his pet name.
[OMG, this confession—no wonder Achi’s living the good life every day, biting handkerchief]
[First time actively eating dog food, and I’m not the only one enjoying it!]
[Achi should just change his name to Jiujiu Big Boss now]
Seeing the chat, Ti Xiao’s tail was practically wagging to the ceiling. He leaned close to Xiao Yao’s ear and whispered, “Why do you say such nice things to them…”
Then he started blaming him, completely forgetting the mischievous grin he’d just had.
[Not enough, say a few more lines!]
[Can you say goodnight? I want to record it.]
Seeing those two messages, Ti Xiao snatched the mic back and said seriously, “No, no, that’s not happening.”
Xiao Yao was his, there was no way he’d let anyone record his voice.
Xiao Yao often watched Ti Xiao’s livestreams but had never done one himself. Today was the first time, and all he had to do was sit nearby and occasionally say a few words, while cutting up apples into small pieces to feed Ti Xiao.
Usually when Ti Xiao livestreamed drawing, the camera was either on their little puppy or focused on his hands working the pen. He had a small frame and slender fingers; the way he held the stylus and drew was really nice to watch.
Today, no drawing, and the little puppy wasn’t asleep, so Ti Xiao just tilted the camera down to show his hand on the mouse.
[Coach, I’m a freshman in high school and want to study art in college. Any advice?]
[I want to draw comics. Are there special drawing software? Which is easier to get used to—traditional or digital drawing?]
Since there was no drawing, fans started asking Ti Xiao all sorts of questions, and he rolled up his sleeves to answer one by one.
“If you want to get into art school, sign up for an art class and learn basics like sketching and color.”
“At first, start with traditional drawing. If you can afford it, you can buy a drawing tablet.”
Xiao Yao was cutting apples nearby and handed a piece to Ti Xiao, who was busy answering questions and didn’t notice. “Put that down for now—I’m talking to them, I’ll eat later.”
Xiao Yao glanced at the chat messages flying by on screen, listening to Ti Xiao’s endless explanations, frowned slightly, and put down the fruit knife.
Was this… jealousy?
Ti Xiao rambled for a while, then got a little thirsty and reached for an apple slice—but couldn’t find it.
The plate was empty, and Xiao Yao’s eyes looked a little forlorn from being ignored.
“Cut me some more,” Ti Xiao ordered, then turned back to chatting with the fans.
Xiao Yao’s eyes looked even more pitiful. He swallowed his apple with a bit of resentment and picked up the fruit knife to keep slicing apples.
Just as Ti Xiao happily munched on the apple, Xiao Yao suddenly asked, “Is the apple sweet?”
“Sweet, of course. It’s the same apple, isn’t it?” Ti Xiao said, to prove how sweet it was, and took another crisp bite. “Hey, wait—slow down with those chat messages, I’m answering one at a time.”
“This one’s not very sweet,” Xiao Yao said, staring at him.
“No way. Give me a piece so I can try it,” Ti Xiao said absentmindedly, tilting his head while glancing sideways at the screen, mouth wide open, waiting to be fed. “Ah.”
But Ti Xiao didn’t get the unsweet apple from Xiao Yao’s hand. Instead, he got something even sweeter.
The condenser mic was good quality, and since they were sitting close to it, every kiss and smooch sound was picked up loud and clear, broadcast straight to the fans watching the livestream.
[OMG OMG the live broadcast kiss is killing me, this couple is too much!]
[Kick over this bowl of dog food!]
[Sneaking a glance at the screen, lighting a candle for Achi]
On screen was originally Ti Xiao’s hand holding the mouse, but Xiao Yao naturally covered it with his own palm and slowly interlaced his fingers one by one.
Ti Xiao still held the mouse, his index and middle fingers randomly clicking left and right buttons, fumbling around on screen.
Last time, because Xiao Yao messed around during Ti Xiao’s livestream, Ti Xiao got a warning message from the platform’s moderators—another warning and the stream would be shut down.
Xiao Yao was probably eager for March 21 to come early, tightly holding both of Ti Xiao’s hands.
He bent down and kissed greedily; the tingling feeling was like a tiny electric current passing back and forth between their lips and tongues.
“I’m going to bite you!” Ti Xiao shouted urgently after a while, breaking free.
The big bad wolf licked his lips with lingering desire, still entwined with Ti Xiao’s fingers. “Come here.”
Ti Xiao grabbed his hand and bit down hard, determined to leave a mark.
[Are these two forgetting they’re still on livestream?]
[Ball ball, you guys hurry up and get married already!]
[I think the fingers are missing a ring, what do you all think?]
Xiao Yao teased Ti Xiao while watching the chat, silently noting those comments on his mental to-do list.
When Ti Xiao finally remembered the livestream was still on, he looked up to see a message on the screen: “Sorry, your livestream has been temporarily suspended due to a report. For questions, please message the moderators.”
Ti Xiao: …
Xiao Yao, you definitely did that on purpose.
The stream was shut down, and it wouldn’t be lifted for at least three business days. Ti Xiao’s Weibo comments, @ messages, and private messages were flooded with “hahahahahaha.”
Even Gua Pi, who hardly ever posts on Weibo, showed up out of curiosity.
Editor Gua Pi: Heard your stream got banned, congrats!
Clever and brave big Achi: Roll roll roll
Editor Gua Pi: Heard there’s a recording too, not sure if it’s true. I’ll go look.
After that, Gua Pi disappeared—probably really went hunting for the recording.
Ti Xiao munched on his apple angrily, taking several big bites until his cheeks puffed out like a little hamster. Xiao Yao couldn’t help poking at them.
“Don’t move,” Ti Xiao said, grabbing Xiao Yao’s hand. “Wait, let me see. I think it’s not this hand.”
He still remembered a faint mole on the inside of Xiao Yao’s ring finger—a detail he’d noticed a long time ago when Xiao Yao was on the phone downstairs, and it had stuck in his mind.
“Is something wrong?” Xiao Yao looked confused as Ti Xiao examined both his hands inside and out.
Finding nothing, Ti Xiao made a joke, “Can’t I just look at your palm lines?”
“Sure,” Xiao Yao smiled and opened his palm. “What do you see?”
“Hm, I see you’re lacking some good fortune.”
Spring Equinox was approaching, and the community was going to put up a new bulletin board. The neighborhood committee was participating in a district contest, so no matter how many different designs there were, Ti Xiao was responsible for all the boards.
He held a thick stack of papers—materials and pictures about the Spring Equinox given by the elderly committee members for reference.
But to Ti Xiao, this Spring Equinox felt different somehow.
“I have to paint the bulletin board again in a few days,” Ti Xiao said pitifully. “Do you remember when I painted for the Winter Solstice before?”
“I remember,” Xiao Yao glanced at the calendar and pinched his cheek. “Spring Equinox is March 21.”
During the Winter Solstice, they weren’t together yet, and Ti Xiao had fallen off a shelf but happened to be caught by Xiao Yao.
“You remember! Honestly, did you already have feelings for me then, while you were pinching my cheek?”
“We even went out for dinner a few days later—you ran off at the end and I was so mad.”
“But then you took me to the doctor when I got sick a few days later, so I forgave you.” Ti Xiao recalled everything one by one, trying hard to distract Xiao Yao.
“Xiao Xiao,” Xiao Yao immediately saw through the plan, pinched his cheek again, and grabbed a big red marker to circle March 20 on the calendar, tapping it a few times.
“Don’t forget.”
He kissed him and left for work, leaving Ti Xiao blushing and carrying the paint box to climb up the ladder.
Last time, he almost painted Spring Equinox on Winter Solstice’s board; this time, he did the opposite—painting Winter Solstice on the Spring Equinox board.
Just thinking about March 20 made Ti Xiao cringe. Why did he even agree to this? It was all thankless labor—and his livestream got banned, still not unblocked yet.
Ti Xiao sighed, and his mind involuntarily went back to those times when he was calmly creating content—painting happily without a hint of embarrassment or hesitation.
But when it came to the real deal, his face would flush red, and his hand would fumble with the paint.
“Xiao Xiao, isn’t that color a bit too cold? The blue doesn’t really feel like spring. Try another one,” Aunt Zhang from the community committee gently reminded him. “Why the sigh? Did you have a fight with Xiao Yao?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s a bit cold. I’ll change it.” Ti Xiao scraped off the extra paint. “No fight… it’s just because of other stuff.”
Ti Xiao was painting while Aunt Zhang was there writing the calligraphy. She was squatting next to him with a piece of chalk and said seriously, “It’s good you didn’t fight. You two are still young. No matter how rocky life gets, you have to keep living well, no matter what kind of life it is.”
The implication was clear: whether it’s everyday life or the “X life,” even if it’s not smooth, you still have to keep going.
Ti Xiao sighed quietly in his heart. Their everyday life was pretty harmonious; the “X life”… well, that hadn’t happened yet, so he didn’t know if it was harmonious or not.
With Xiao Yao’s… size, Ti Xiao sometimes felt a bit frustrated, like he was dealing with iron that just wouldn’t bend.
When school was about to let out, Aunt Zhang went to pick up her granddaughter, leaving Ti Xiao alone on the ladder painting.
“Wrong character,” a voice suddenly came from behind—it was Xiao Yao.
Ti Xiao jumped, almost repeating the Winter Solstice disaster, but thankfully he kept his balance this time and patted his still-racing heart. “How do you walk without making a sound? You scared me!”
“I saw you were too focused to call out. Stop painting for now. Let’s go eat first.” Xiao Yao smiled and opened his arms toward him. “Jump down, I’ll catch you.”
“No way, there are too many kids getting out of school now. Don’t harm the future of the nation.” Ti Xiao carefully climbed down the ladder on his own.
Last New Year’s, the two of them were kissing in the hallway when a ninth grader on the second floor caught sight of them. For several days afterward, that kid looked at Ti Xiao and Xiao Yao with really weird eyes.
At dinner, Ti Xiao suddenly remembered what Xiao Yao had just said. “When you said I wrote something wrong at the community entrance, what exactly was wrong?”
Xiao Yao put down his chopsticks and calmly wiped his mouth. “Do you remember the date of the Spring Equinox?”
“March twenty-first.” Ti Xiao’s ears turned a little red as he looked down at his food.
“You wrote March twentieth.” Xiao Yao pinched his reddened earlobe with one hand while casually tapping the table with the other.
Ears were a sensitive spot, and Ti Xiao shivered slightly. People say you dream about what you think about during the day, and sure enough, he’d dreamed about this just a few days ago…
Guess it had been on his mind too much—everything seemed to connect back to it.
Seeing Ti Xiao silent, Xiao Yao smiled and said, “Baby, are you really looking forward to this day?”
