The exhaustion that followed the receding waves of passion left Xia Xiqing utterly drained. He slumped lifelessly on the toilet seat, doing nothing, letting Zhou Ziheng take the showerhead and rinse him clean from head to toe. After washing him, Zhou Ziheng gave himself a quick rinse. Bubbles from the shower gel occasionally splashed onto Xia Xiqing’s arm, where he pressed them away with his index finger before tilting his head back to continue watching.
Such intimacy felt like they were a real couple, nestled in a small corner of this city, living the life of ordinary people.
Just like. Xia Xiqing ran his fingers through his soaked hair, sweeping it back behind his ears.
“What are you thinking about?” Zhou Ziheng, still not drying himself, walked barefoot across the wet tile floor to touch Xia Xiqing’s face.
Xia Xiqing opened his mouth to bite Zhou Ziheng’s thumb, lifting his eyes to meet his gaze.
“I just feel like… we’re being utterly ridiculous.”
“It is pretty ridiculous.” Zhou Ziheng ground his finger against Xia Xiqing’s teeth. “I used to be so pure.”
Xia Xiqing snorted in disdain. “The guy who messed around with me has no right to use the word ‘pure’.” His slightly tilted face still held lingering traces of desire. “Who would’ve thought this set’s first use would be for this? It’s not like we’re here to shoot a porn film.”
Zhou Ziheng slid his thumb back slightly, gently tracing Xia Xiqing’s soft lower lip. He smiled, looking almost too handsome in Xia Xiqing’s eyes.
“If it’s with you, I wouldn’t mind shooting one.” His deep-set eyes always held a hint of childishness at unexpected moments. “An actor’s career is only complete when they push boundaries.”
Xia Xiqing swatted his hand away and rolled his eyes. “Cut it out.” He leaned his neck against the water tank. “It’s stuffy in here.”
Hearing this, Zhou Ziheng immediately stood up. “I’ll step outside for a bit.” He walked to the living room sofa in his soaked shoes, pulled out a change of underwear from his bag, and put them on. He also grabbed the white cotton short-sleeved shirt and dark blue athletic shorts he usually wore as pajamas. Just as he was about to change, he hesitated for a moment, placed the clothes on the sofa, and ran to the bedroom to open the wardrobe. There weren’t many clothes inside, Zhou Ziheng felt a twinge of guilt, thinking he shouldn’t be rummaging through someone else’s clothes.
After much internal struggle, he finally went back to the living room, quickly changed into his own pajamas, put on a mask, and went downstairs wearing his soaked sneakers.
Xia Xiqing heard him rushing back and forth in the bathroom, wondering what he was up to. After about ten minutes, the slightly ajar bathroom door opened. Zhou Ziheng walked in wearing a pair of dark blue rubber slippers, carrying clothes, slippers, and a fresh towel.
“You went downstairs?”
“Yeah, I went to buy some things.” He placed the clothes on the washing machine, turned on the faucet, rinsed the new towel several times, wrung it out forcefully, then pulled Xia Xiqing’s hand to carefully wipe the water from his body. Seeing Zhou Ziheng like this, Xia Xiqing felt a warmth in his heart.
He wanted to say, You don’t have to do this. He’d said it countless times before, each time effortlessly and effectively. Yet for some reason, looking at Zhou Ziheng’s face, the words wouldn’t come out. Still, deep down, he felt that for someone like him, Zhou Ziheng didn’t need to go this far.
“Alright, lift your arms.” Zhou Ziheng dressed him in the white T-shirt he usually wore as pajamas—the same one he’d changed out of after buying groceries and heading upstairs—as if tending to a child. For himself, he slipped on a black short-sleeved shirt he’d just bought downstairs for thirty yuan.
After dressing Xia Xiqing, Zhou Ziheng pulled a pair of dark blue slippers matching his own from the plastic bag. He gently grasped Xia Xiqing’s pale ankle and slipped one foot into each slipper.
Truthfully, he wanted to kiss those ankles, but Xia Xiqing might get angry now, so Zhou Ziheng temporarily abandoned the thought.
“Feeling better?” Zhou Ziheng pulled him up by the hand, offering a light support to Xia Xiqing’s waist—only to have it brushed away. “My stamina’s just fine.” With that, he stepped out of the bathroom in the well-fitting slippers. The chemical reaction between sweat and air finally ended. Xia Xiqing grabbed a towel to dry his hair, feeling refreshed all over. Night had fallen completely. The living room lamp wasn’t very bright, casting a dim yellow glow that filled the small space.
Turning around, Xia Xiqing saw Zhou Ziheng in a black T-shirt, fingering the back of his collar. He turned his head as if searching for something. Xia Xiqing approached. “What’s wrong?”
“The label’s rubbing my neck raw.”
“Sit on the couch.” Xia Xiqing looked around and spotted an old pair of scissors on the second shelf of the TV cabinet. He walked over to retrieve them, noticing the rubber grip on the handles had worn away. Turning back, he found Zhou Ziheng sitting on the couch, waiting. His unstyled hair, now dry, looked tousled and fluffy.
“Where’d you buy this cheap junk? Not from the night market downstairs, I hope?” Xia Xiqing approached. Zhou Ziheng patted his thigh and grinned, revealing a row of gleaming white teeth. “Yep! How did you guess?”
A big star, and so careless. Xia Xiqing found that smile impossible to resist. He straddled Zhou Ziheng’s lap, wrapping both arms around his neck to cut the tag off his shirt.
“Don’t move. Don’t blame me if I cut you.”
“Mm.”
Zhou Ziheng was utterly satisfied. His arms loosely encircled Xia Xiqing’s waist as his head nestled obediently into the crook of his shoulder. This time, there was no trace of perfume on him—only the lingering minty scent of shower gel, mixed with a hint of lingering passion.
Desire had crashed over him like a tsunami, overwhelming his senses. Yet for Zhou Ziheng, the gentle tremors and lingering ripples after the tide receded with Xia Xiqing were equally beautiful.
Carefully snipping off the last bit, Xia Xiqing tore off the cheap label by hand. Despite his caution, it left tiny holes in his short-sleeved shirt. No matter—it was obviously a cheap piece of clothing anyway.
“Done.”
Zhou Ziheng stubbornly refused to lift his head. “Hold me a little longer.”
“Are you a puppy?”
“No.” Zhou Ziheng clung tightly, lifting his head to gaze up at Xia Xiqing with lingering affection. “Kiss me.”
Xia Xiqing didn’t move. When Zhou Ziheng asked again, he finally relented, pressing a kiss to Zhou Ziheng’s lips. “Is that enough?”
“No.” Zhou Ziheng pressed his lips against Xia Xiqing’s, deepening the kiss. Xia Xiqing, scissors in hand, threatened between the lingering kisses, “You think I won’t stab you with this?”
“I don’t.” Zhou Ziheng kissed his neck, reaching for the hand holding the scissors and pulling it to his chest. “Go ahead.”
Xia Xiqing had captured too many hearts. Each had promised him beautiful vows, displayed intense emotions—all seemed similar to him. Honestly, it stirred little emotion, for he knew clearly: if they truly understood what a vile person he was, no one would love him.
But Zhou Ziheng’s heart was entirely different. His affection was blue magma—seeming like a tranquil ocean until the tide swept over, revealing one had long been swallowed by the scorching lava, melted within it.
Dropping the scissors, Xia Xiqing embraced Zhou Ziheng’s nape and kissed him deeply.
When had he learned this passive, lax tactic of taking things one step at a time?
The delicate balance between them was a bubble—as long as Zhou Ziheng didn’t burst it.
Xia Xiqing occasionally entertained dark thoughts—perhaps he was too narcissistic, and maybe Zhou Ziheng was just playing around, using his masterful, natural acting skills to simulate love.
Moist tongues intertwined as summer breezes slipped through the cracks of the old window lattice, veiling their eyes. Such tender kisses were rare for Xia Xiqing—he usually devoured others with hungry intensity. Never did he imagine becoming the one being freely given to.
Just as they were reluctant to part, Zhou Ziheng’s stomach growled suddenly, breaking the honey-sweet entanglement.
“You must be genuinely hungry this time,” Xia Xiqing said with a smile as he stepped away. He glanced at the pendulum clock hanging on the wall. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”
The dampness lingered, but the summer heat had largely dissipated with the sun’s retreat. A night breeze brushed against them, warm yet refreshing. Zhou Ziheng and Xia Xiqing walked shoulder to shoulder downstairs. The once chaotic neighborhood was now illuminated by countless lights. The narrow sidewalk, never particularly wide to begin with, was now occupied by stalls of all sizes. Some sold clothes facing the street, others peddled flowers, birds, fish, and insects, and all manner of odd little shops crowded densely along the long street. Strings of small light bulbs separated them, yet they shared each other’s glow.
“You’ve never been to a night market, have you?” Xia Xiqing reached out and pulled down the brim of Zhou Ziheng’s cap. Zhou Ziheng pushed his glasses up with a casual flick. “No. Even the small, dirty stalls have disappeared from Beijing now.”
“True. They’re cleaning up the city.” Xia Xiqing pulled him onto the sidewalk, away from the main crowd where people were practically pressed against each other. He tugged at his own mask and warned Zhou Ziheng, “Watch your phone. I’ve had three phones stolen at night markets before.”
Zhou Ziheng chuckled, his arm falling naturally around Xia Xiqing’s shoulder.
“Aren’t you worried about getting photographed?”
“Let them snap away.” Zhou Ziheng tightened his embrace. “Celebrities hitting up night markets is supposed to be down-to-earth, right?” No sooner had he spoken than Xia Xiqing felt the hand on his shoulder withdraw. Turning his head, he saw Zhou Ziheng swiftly catch a cart that had nearly toppled over. The elderly woman gripping the handle, her hair streaked with gray, kept thanking him. “Thank goodness for you! Otherwise, I’d have lost everything tonight—all my work for nothing!”
Zhou Ziheng didn’t quite understand, but he smiled and helped her push the cart back to a stable stall. He struggled to communicate with her in Mandarin, his tall frame forcing him to bend over, leaning close to her face.
“Be careful, this leg isn’t very stable.” Zhou Ziheng crouched down, pulled a tissue from his pocket, folded it several times, and placed it under the lower wooden leg. “There.” He gave the cart’s wooden leg a shake. “It shouldn’t wobble now.” He looked up just as Xia Xiqing’s gaze met his from a short distance away. He flashed him a smile.
Xia Xiqing felt as though the heat had made him hallucinate.
It seemed as if a pair of glowing wings had sprouted from Zhou Ziheng’s back.
Why would such a good person hang out with someone like me?
He walked over too, glancing at the stainless steel insulated bucket on the cart and the sliced fruit arranged on top. In his Wuhan dialect, he told the vendor, “Auntie, one cup of mung bean ice shavings, and a skewer of water chestnuts.”
After getting his ice shavings and water chestnut skewers, Xia Xiqing left the stall and continued walking forward. Zhou Ziheng followed behind him. “I want some too.”
“Go buy your own.”
“I want the ones in your hand.”
Xia Xiqing spun around abruptly. Zhou Ziheng couldn’t stop in time and nearly collided head-on. He quickly stepped back. Xia Xiqing’s water chestnut skewer held five perfectly peeled, round, plump, and glistening pieces. each plump, round, and glistening white. He pressed a cup of icy mung bean slush into Zhou Ziheng’s hand. “Don’t drink it yet.” Then he picked a small water chestnut off the skewer, holding it out. “Eat this. I doubt you’d consider this a fruit back home.”
To his surprise, Zhou Ziheng simply lowered his head, bit into the water chestnut directly from Xia Xiqing’s hand, tilted his head back to swallow it whole, chewed twice, savoring its crisp tenderness, delicate fragrance, and sweet, juicy flavor.
“Delicious!” The eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses lit up. “I want more.”
Xia Xiqing chuckled too, snatching the mung bean paste from his hand and turning away without mercy. “Go buy your own.”
“No, please! Give me another one. This is so delicious!”
“This is water chestnut.”
“Really? Back home, we use water chestnuts for dumplings and meatballs. We rarely eat them raw, and ours aren’t tender at all.“ Zhou Ziheng wrapped an arm around Xia Xiqing’s shoulder. ”Yours are so much better. Grandmas peel all kinds of fruits and sell them cheap.”
No matter when, hearing praise for one’s hometown always lifted the spirits.
The middle section of the night market featured rows of bustling food stalls. Xia Xiqing led Zhou Ziheng to a secluded spot, where they sat down and ordered four large platters of skewered meats. The various cuts sizzled on the grill, dripping with oil, then generously sprinkled with cumin, chili flakes, and scallions—the aroma was irresistible. He then went to a nearby stall to buy a small bowl of braised meats and two steamer baskets of tomato-flavored soup dumplings, piling the small, low table high with food.
“Try some.”
Zhou Ziheng grabbed a skewer of crispy pork ribs and popped it into his mouth. He never ate spicy food, and this hit him like a ton of bricks. He snatched up Xia Xiqing’s mung bean ice slushie and gulped down a huge mouthful.
“So spicy!” He opened his mouth wide, panting like a big golden retriever, laughing so hard Xia Xiqing nearly choked. “I ordered mild!”
“You shouldn’t eat something this spicy, you just—”
Xia Xiqing gave his knee a hard bump with hers. “Shut up. Mention it again and I’ll leave you here alone.”
Zhou Ziheng grinned, grabbing Xia Xiqing’s hand and rubbing it affectionately. Xia Xiqing pulled her hand away again and picked up a piece of braised kelp knot for Zhou Ziheng. “This is delicious. It’s my favorite.”
Hearing Xia Xiqing’s words, Zhou Ziheng didn’t hesitate to pop the kelp knot into his own mouth. Simmered for hours in the old brine, the kelp had become soft, sticky, and dense, briny and savory. “Mmm… this is so good.” But the next second, the hidden spicy kick from the marinade surfaced. Zhou Ziheng stuck out his tongue. “This is spicy too.”
“Hmm.” Xia Xiqing shook his head and took a bite of a grilled green pepper skewer. “Most of the food around here has a spicy kick to it.”
In the end, Zhou Ziheng polished off two steamer baskets of soup dumplings all by himself and got hooked. He went off on his own to order two more baskets. Before long, an uncle arrived carrying two steamer baskets and set them down for them. “Hey, handsome, your soup dumplings.” By then, Xia Xiqing had finished eating and put his mask back on. The man glanced at his tied-back hair, then took in his features and eyes. He teased Zhou Ziheng, “You’re a lucky guy, buddy. Your friend here is quite the looker.”
The owner’s Mandarin was thick with a local accent. Zhou Ziheng caught the gist and thought he was complimenting Xia Xiqing’s looks. He smiled, about to respond, when Xia Xiqing suddenly pulled down his mask. Looking up at the owner with deadpan seriousness, he declared, “I’m a guy.”
“Huh?” The owner took a closer look and realized it was indeed a man. He immediately apologized with an embarrassed smile. “Oh my, my mistake! My apologies. My wife just mentioned a tall, pretty lady bought two steamer baskets of tomato soup dumplings, and I thought it was you.”
Xia Xiqing gave a forced smile and said it was fine. The shop owner chatted for a moment before leaving.
“Was he saying you’re pretty?” Zhou Ziheng kept asking. He was curious—why did Xia Xiqing feel the need to explain he was a guy after the shop owner said that? He recalled the shop owner’s earlier words.
Playing friends.
“What kind of friends?”
Just as Xia Xiqing bit into a soup dumpling, scalding broth splashed onto his tongue. The thin skin could no longer contain the liquid, which spilled onto the small plate with a sloshing sound, like a secret that couldn’t be hidden.
The tables were close together. The half-drunk middle-aged man at the next table suddenly laughed. One of them tapped Zhou Ziheng’s back with the back of his beer can-clutching hand. “You’re from the north, right? Visiting Wuhan?”
Zhou Ziheng instinctively pushed his glasses up. The man didn’t seem to recognize him. “Yeah.”
The man chuckled a few times, then lectured him in broken Mandarin, “Playing friends means dating, got it?”
Dating?
So… the boss actually thought of Xia Xiqing as his boyfriend?
His tongue stung from the heat. Hearing Zhou Ziheng’s conversation with that guy, Xia Xiqing couldn’t lift his head. He turned his face away, sucking on the nearly empty cup of mung bean paste. Dewy droplets clung to the sides, dampening his hands as if thoughtfully cooling his scorched palms.
After their late-night snack, the two walked side by side down a side street, gradually leaving the bustling night market behind. Huaanli Community was encircled by railroad tracks, and the roar of trains rushing past echoed in their ears, making their hearts tremble along with it.
Zhou Ziheng still pondered the older man’s words from earlier. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Xia Xiqing embodied the very spirit of this city—even describing romance as “playing friends,” embodying a carefree, roguish youth who navigated the world with a rebellious edge.
“Do you think…”
Zhou Ziheng murmured from behind. Xia Xiqing didn’t turn around, instead flicking the plastic cup of mung bean paste from his hand like a basketball shot into a distant trash bin—a perfect score.
“Does what we’re doing now count as playing…”
The train’s roar engulfed the night like a monster, swallowing all sound—including Zhou Ziheng’s final words.
The rumble faded into the distance, restoring silence. Xia Xiqing turned, his fist half-clenched.
“What did you just say?”
Xia Xiqing was such a sharp person. Zhou Ziheng stared at that flawless face bathed in moonlight, silent for two seconds.
“Nothing.”
His facade admonished his own impatient heart.
Not yet.
Author’s Note:
Chu Chu: The whole world thinks you two are playing friends.
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