Chapter 85

He Xiaoyun is so handsome, always the one who commands attention in any crowd. With an innate magnetism, he rescued an eleven‐year‐old boy; when that boy opened his eyes and saw him up close, he naturally came to worship his lifesaver.

But after that day, He Xiaoyun never returned to Jinlang Hotel. It wasn’t until the boy was taken away by his maternal grandfather that he learned—from his grandfather—that He Xiaoyun rarely visited the Xia household. He had a wide range of interests and many favorite spots; for him, Jinlang Hotel was nothing particularly special.

Yet little Xia Chi could never forget that beautiful older brother who had saved him. It wasn’t until he was thirteen, when he accompanied his grandfather to visit Grandpa He, that he first heard news about He Xiaoyun—and with it, his first encounter with the concept of sexual orientation.

At that time, He Xiaoyun was in his element. One could easily learn what type he preferred with just a little inquiry. Watching his own scrawny, frail body, someone who had never cared much about appearances began to despise himself for the first time.

Perhaps it was because he wasn’t tall enough, not good enough, not handsome enough that he had no self-image.

During those years his stomach was weak and he had no appetite for anything. Despite long treatment, nothing improved. Later, his grandfather found a traditional Chinese doctor who prescribed a remedy to strengthen his stomach—but the medicine was so bitter that he refused to take it, and his grandfather was at a loss.

Then one day, unexpectedly, Xia Chi began taking the medicine. No matter how bitter it was, he swallowed it silently in one go; regardless of whether he liked the food or not, he ate it. At first he couldn’t adjust—eating until he was painfully full, to the point of nausea—but gradually, as he adapted, his body finally began to develop.

Yet the outcome was unforeseen.

He wanted to grow taller—but instead he kept putting on weight. By the time he saw He Xiaoyun again at fifteen, he had become a chubby little boy, and He Xiaoyun didn’t even recognize him as the little boy he once rescued.

That time, he witnessed He Xiaoyun kissing another boy—a mixed Chinese-American with delicate, handsome features, exactly the type He Xiaoyun preferred. He Xiaoyun held him tenderly, his eyes half-closed in enjoyment as they kissed, completely unaware that behind a dense thicket, a chubby little boy wearing sunglasses was secretly watching.

It was also that day when Xia Chi first realized that his feelings for He Xiaoyun had somehow changed. The scene he had just seen struck his newly pubescent heart; he felt jealous of the handsome boy who was kissed by He Xiaoyun, while an overwhelming sense of inferiority welled up inside him.

Determined to lose weight—and to grow taller—he took up boxing.

“What’s that got to do with a breakup?” He Xiaoyun asked, though shocked by the impact he knew he had on him. “I don’t remember ever being in love with you.”

Apart from that awkward, silly romance he once had with another young boy when he first discovered his own orientation, the only person he had ever admitted to loving was Ling Sheng.

He had never truly been in love—and it wasn’t a matter of heartbreak.

Xia Chi felt a bit dejected, but when he recalled those times, he also felt embarrassed. Pursing his lips, he slowly said, “I grew too tall.”

It was after that group photo that his years of stunted growth suddenly skyrocketed. At first, he was so overjoyed he nearly went mad; but soon, by the time he was seventeen, he had reached 178 cm. He thought that was enough, yet growth was beyond his control—he kept growing.

Unable to stop, he tried every possible method. He quit boxing, stopped running, even ceased eating any nutritious food. Those times were agonizing—he began to waste away, his nutrition falling far short. He often awoke with aching bones. His grandfather, fearing he was ill, took him for countless tests, but nothing was found. Still, he continued to grow until he finally slowed down at 185 cm.

He was in despair for a long time, clinging to secretly taken photos on his phone as his only solace.

“I want to become the person you like.”

Unrequited love is like a grand fireworks display seen by only one person. He himself lit the fuse with a torch, watching the breathtaking fireworks light up his entire sky. In the end, he was left alone to clean up the scattered remnants—and when the smoke cleared, no one else would ever know.

He Xiaoyun never expected to hear such a confession, that someone would place him in such an important position in their life. In his view of life, he always put himself first, and naturally he believed that everyone should do the same. Yet here was someone so foolish as to torment themselves just to become the person another loved.

Unconsciously, he loosened the foot that had been stepping on Xia Chi’s shoulder. At that moment, Xia Chi’s kiss landed on He Xiaoyun’s calf. The foot that had been on his shoulder was then gently cupped by his hand. Tilting his head, He Xiaoyun pressed a delicate kiss, leaving behind a trail of moist marks.

A tender, unfamiliar, and almost sour sensation crept up along the spot that had been kissed—like a vine thirsty for water, emerging from Xia Chi’s body and slowly climbing into his own, cautiously taking root on his heart.

“You once said that if you ever had nowhere to go, I could come find you.”

Xia Chi gently grasped his ankle, his fingers closed together, with his thumb slowly sliding upward from his ankle along his calf.

He Xiaoyun immediately knew—without having to think—that it was probably another offhand remark he’d made, one he’d stored away. After all, he couldn’t recall ever making such a promise.

“At my grandfather’s funeral.”

That was the darkest moment in Xia Chi’s life. Just as he was slowly emerging from his repressed emotions, his grandfather collapsed. Only when he had just come of age did Xia Chi learn that, before his death, his grandfather had left him not only a trust but also the remaining 30% of the shares his mother held—and all of his own inheritance.

These assets would only be accessible once Xia Chi turned eighteen; but if he were to pass away before that, the entire inheritance would be cashed out and donated to a charity.

His grandfather knew all that he had been through, yet could not watch him grow up—so he preserved him in this way.

At the funeral, many people attended. Xia Chi knelt with his grandfather’s black-and-white portrait cradled in his arms, accepting everyone’s sorrow and consolation—whether genuine or feigned. Even before the ceremony ended, members of the Xia family were already subtly inquiring about the inheritance.

Xia Chi looked at their hypocritical smiles and couldn’t even bring himself to pretend. Inheritance, company, shares—he wanted none of it. He wasn’t interested; he even despised himself.

After the funeral, Grandpa He brought He Xiaoyun over to see Xia Chi. He Xiaoyun was dressed entirely in black—a black shirt and trousers, with hair as black as night. On that gloomy day, without a ray of sunshine, his face appeared as pale as snow.

He looked as beautiful as a finely crafted porcelain doll—like the best white porcelain, delicate and exquisitely thin, fired by a master artisan.

Despite everything, Xia Chi still held deep respect and trust for Grandpa He; so in his presence, his composed expression broke down to reveal genuine sorrow. Soon, Grandpa He was whisked away, leaving He Xiaoyun there to comfort him.

Although it was rather inopportune, this turned out to be the longest moment Xia Chi had ever spent alone with He Xiaoyun.

He Xiaoyun, having grown accustomed to the false faces of the world, had heard a little about Xia Chi’s inheritance—but he didn’t mention it. After all, it was a family matter, and as an outsider he couldn’t really interfere. Besides, he wasn’t very close to Xia Chi. That day he only offered a few comforting words—the exact details of which he could barely recall. Likely, something along the lines of “my condolences” or “it will all pass.”

But Xia Chi remembered very clearly. He gazed into He Xiaoyun’s eyes and repeated the words from that day:

“Although you probably lack nothing, if one day you really have nowhere to go, come find me.”

He Xiaoyun thought that at the time he had probably said it offhandedly out of respect for the bond between his grandfather and Xia Chi’s grandfather—seeing that forlorn, abandoned look on his face. After all, even if Xia Chi did come to find him, he would simply raise him as a young master—something he could easily afford.

Of course, he had forgotten about it soon after speaking, but Xia Chi remembered very clearly that he had indeed come looking for him.

He Xiaoyun smiled and said, “Even if I did say it—I don’t recall—but it would have been ‘if you have nowhere to go, come find me.’ Young Master Xia, as far as I know, your grandfather left you more than one estate in the United States.”

“I’ll give you everything.”

Xia Chi noticed that the foot pressing his leg had loosened. He tried to move, shifting that foot onto his shoulder. Slowly, his hand moved forward as he climbed step by step—like a puppy proudly presenting its cherished toy to its master. “Everything, I’ll give you.”

He Xiaoyun cared little for such things. He had never lacked anything since childhood.

As Xia Chi moved, one of He Xiaoyun’s legs was effortlessly hoisted onto his shoulder, and Xia Chi had now climbed right in front of him.

In Xia Chi’s words, He Xiaoyun strained to recall and finally dredged up the few memories stored in his hippocampus.

Xia Chi’s mother, an only child at home, had fallen into postpartum depression after giving birth—and had committed suicide when he was six. Yet a year later, his father married the mother of Xia Wan.

As a child, Xia Chi was very slight and delicate, his exquisitely beautiful features set in a fragile frame like a glass doll that might shatter at a touch. He was nothing like the others—always quietly sitting in a corner reading, in poor health, and disinterested in playing outside. The great age gaps and personalities that he did not like made it no wonder he never held them in high regard.

But in hindsight, with a mother depressed since childbirth and a father—despite his vast wealth—raising him into such a withdrawn nature, Xia Chi’s childhood was surely bereft of happy memories. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have regarded a stranger he barely knew as a life mentor.

For some reason, He Xiaoyun felt that Xia Chi was rather gullible. If on that day it had been someone else who had jumped in to save him, would he have treated that person the same way?

The thought of Xia Chi circling around him, obediently letting him take and demand as he wished—and the idea that he might do the same with someone else, even climbing onto another’s bed in that manner—made He Xiaoyun furrow his brows in disapproval.

Meanwhile, Xia Chi had lowered his head and began to nuzzle him with his nose, moving upward along his leg. Through the thin silk nightshirt, his warm breath grazed He Xiaoyun’s skin, quickly arousing him. Then he continued nuzzling with his nose and licking with his tongue, wetting the fabric thoroughly.

He Xiaoyun reached out and grabbed his hair, lifting his head abruptly. “Why do you call me ‘Little Yun Gege’? I don’t remember you ever calling me that.”

At the mention of that term, Xia Chi suddenly blushed; his gaze drifting uncertainly, which only piqued He Xiaoyun’s curiosity further. He increased the pressure with the foot still on him and slowly began to knead it. Unable to bear it, Xia Chi broke free of his hand and leaned forward onto his lower abdomen, sucking vigorously as if trying to alleviate something—but the situation only grew more intense.

Of course, He Xiaoyun was aroused as well—but he was far more experienced than Xia Chi and could endure it, knowing he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

“I called you that in a dream,” Xia Chi quickly admitted. “I wanted a name that no one else had ever used—only me.”

It was as if he and He Xiaoyun shared an exclusive intimacy.

“What dream?”

He Xiaoyun reached out and pulled his face away, his fingers hooking under his chin. When he saw Xia Chi’s entire face flushed and his shy, stuttering demeanor, he knew exactly what dream was meant without further questioning.

That was enough confession for today. Not wanting to press further, He Xiaoyun said slowly, “So you like me that much.”

“Mm.”

Xia Chi looked deeply into his eyes and moved in a little closer. “I love you.”

Though his past lovers had once declared their love for him, what followed were behaviors that repulsed him—attempts to intrude into his life, to pry into his past, to demand his affection—and each time he knew that relationship was doomed to end.

Xia Chi was different; it seemed he simply wanted to express his love, and as long as he was allowed to do so, he was content.

How could there be someone so foolish?

He Xiaoyun hadn’t noticed the tenderness and pained compassion in his gaze. Although the one before him was nearly 190 cm tall, it was as if he were looking at a desolate little puppy abandoned by its master. He felt an overwhelming urge to care for him.

Gazing at Xia Chi’s dark, deep eyes and moist lips, He Xiaoyun suddenly reached out with his other hand. Extending his index and middle fingers, he pressed them against Xia Chi’s lips. Xia Chi willingly parted his mouth to take the fingers.

His teeth retracted, and his tongue entwined around the fingers as he earnestly sucked and licked them. When he slightly withdrew a segment, clear drool was drawn along the fingers and dripped onto the sheets. Xia Chi let him play with him obediently, without even a hint of resistance.

Pleased and delighted, He Xiaoyun decided to offer Xia Chi some extra indulgence. He withdrew his licked fingers—using them in place of his foot, which, being more nimble, allowed him greater dexterity. Xia Chi let out a low, restrained gasp, his suppressed, rumbling desire making He Xiaoyun’s ears feel as though they were on fire.

“Tell me—what dream did you have? Speak, and I’ll satisfy you.”

He Xiaoyun whispered seductively in his ear, even extending his tongue to lick along the earlobe, “Speak.”

But what dream? Xia Chi dared not say it aloud, fearing He Xiaoyun might push him away.

He Xiaoyun chuckled, gathering his fingers and applying skilled pressure. In the past, when in the shower, he had only dared to pleasure himself while serving He Xiaoyun—he could never withstand He Xiaoyun’s masterful technique. Now, Xia Chi could no longer hold back. He grabbed He Xiaoyun’s waist and dragged him down, pressing his chest against him. Yet as he lowered his head to gaze into He Xiaoyun’s eyes, he paused—without He Xiaoyun’s explicit permission, he dared not proceed.

But today, He Xiaoyun indulged him uncharacteristically, teasingly saying, “Do what you want.”

“Fuck you.”

The turbulent impulses of adolescence, unspoken in dreams, surged forth. If he couldn’t be He Xiaoyun’s person, then he would make He Xiaoyun his own.

The torrent of desire, heightened with each intimate touch, became nearly unbearable. Still, Xia Chi dared only whisper, “I want… to kiss.”

He Xiaoyun hadn’t expected him to ask for just that. In truth, they had done far more excessive things several times without ever having kissed. Slightly surprised, he smiled softly—and did not refuse.

For Xia Chi, that was the greatest encouragement.

Cautiously, he lowered his head, and just as his lips were about to meet those long-desired ones, He Xiaoyun’s fingers pressed them shut.

Xia Chi immediately stopped.

He Xiaoyun’s hand also froze.

Xia Chi tried to hold back, but his body moved uncontrollably, pressing down and rubbing against He Xiaoyun’s leg without permission.

Of course, He Xiaoyun knew that by this point stopping was impossible, yet he still teased, “You have two choices—kiss, or…”

“Kiss!”

Xia Chi didn’t even wait to hear the second option; he quickly repeated, “Kiss—I choose kiss.”

His response was so swift that it momentarily stunned He Xiaoyun, but in good spirits he withdrew the fingers that had been holding back his lips.

That was consent.

Xia Chi cleared his throat. Despite having done far more daring acts before, he was nervous—as if he were about to confess his first love—nervous and excited even more than when he had done those other things.

He Xiaoyun, not nearly as pure, thought, “It’s just a kiss.”

Then he reached out, pressing down on the back of his head and pinning him. Xia Chi’s lips trembled with excitement, not daring to be too bold, as He Xiaoyun directly took his lower lip into his mouth, sucking and licking it, then deeply interlocking his tongue with his.

Xia Chi was clearly unprepared, yielding to He Xiaoyun’s exploration—licking, sucking, and ransacking his mouth—giving him an intensely erotic, wet kiss.

When the kiss ended, He Xiaoyun looked into Xia Chi’s eyes, red and brimming with tears. Somehow, his heart felt like a lump of pliable clay, kneaded by the warmth of a hand into an incredibly soft state. He had intended to tease him further, but suddenly found himself at a loss for words; even the hand that had been kneading his nape involuntarily relaxed.

Xia Chi remained above him, his eyes fixed unwaveringly, as if that kiss had been entirely enough—he no longer sought further contact.

Feeling that Xia Chi was on the verge of tears, He Xiaoyun couldn’t bear the overly sentimental atmosphere. He hooked his leg around Xia Chi’s waist and, with a hand on his shoulder, flipped their positions in one smooth motion so that he ended up sitting on Xia Chi’s waist, reaching out once more.

The two pressed together.

“A good child deserves a reward.”