That night, Yin Xigui's fever returned. It rose and fell over and over, refusing to break completely.
His forehead felt warm, and he lay listlessly beneath the covers, coughing every now and then. Each cough sent another pulse of pain through the wounds on his back.
Sheng Linyou wrung out a cold towel and laid it across his forehead. Yin Xigui remained quiet for a moment, then suddenly reached out and caught his wrist.
“Gege, don't go.”
“I'm not going anywhere. I just need to change the water.”
“Then go change it.”
Yin Xigui said that, yet refused to release him. Sheng Linyou looked down at the bandaged hand wrapped around his wrist. The grip was not particularly strong, but every knuckle was drawn tight.
He sighed and sat down beside the bed.
“Yin Xigui, I can't go anywhere if you hold on like this.”
“Then don't.” Eyes still closed, Yin Xigui mumbled, “Sleep with me.”
Sheng Linyou pulled his hand free and tucked the blanket around him.
Still half-dazed, Yin Xigui reached after him again. His fingertips touched Sheng Linyou's forearm, slipped beneath his cuff, and pressed warmly against the skin on the inside of his wrist.
“Stop fooling around.”
“I'm not.”
Yin Xigui's fingers brushed lightly over his inner wrist. The gauze wrapped around his fingertips scraped roughly across the thin skin there.
The muscles in Sheng Linyou's arm tightened for an instant. He lowered his gaze. Half of Yin Xigui's face was buried in the pillow, his lashes lowered, yet the corner of his mouth curved faintly upward.
Sheng Linyou did not pull away.
Yin Xigui's fingers continued upward, grazing the inside of his forearm through the thin fabric. The touch was tentative, almost imperceptible. Every brush against his skin felt like a feather skimming the surface of water.
Sheng Linyou's Adam's apple bobbed, but he did not tell him to stop.
The hand came to rest in the crook of his elbow. Yin Xigui pressed his thumb lightly over the vein there, feeling the pulse beat beneath his skin.
“Gege, your heart is beating so fast.”
Sheng Linyou finally reached the end of his patience. He caught the wandering hand, fingers closing around Yin Xigui's wrist. The bandages scratched faintly against his palm.
“Yin Xigui.”
“Mm?”
“Has the fever gone to your head?”
Yin Xigui opened his eyes. They gleamed like obsidian dipped in water, without the slightest trace of drowsiness.
He smiled at Sheng Linyou, soft and obedient, then burrowed deeper beneath the covers.
“Come sleep up here, Gege. The floor is cold.”
Sheng Linyou looked down at him. Yin Xigui lifted one corner of the blanket and patted the empty space beside him, as naturally as if he had done it a hundred times before.
He was still feverish. An unhealthy flush stained his cheeks, and his dry lips were slightly cracked. He looked both fragile and desperately clingy.
Sheng Linyou bent down, lifted the covers, and lay beside him. Yin Xigui was already facing him. As soon as he settled in, Yin Xigui edged closer and pressed his forehead into the hollow of Sheng Linyou's shoulder, his scorching breath spilling over Sheng Linyou's collarbone.
“Move away. You're burning up.”
“No.” Yin Xigui inched closer and curled entirely into his arms. “You're nice and cool.”
With that fever-hot body pressed against him, Sheng Linyou went rigid from head to toe, his arms stiff at his sides.
Yin Xigui's hand wandered over again. This time, it landed directly on Sheng Linyou's waist, fingertips probing beneath the hem of his shirt to touch the sliver of bare skin underneath.
“Yin Xigui.”
“Mm?”
“Do you know what you're doing?”
Yin Xigui fell quiet in his arms. Only his uneven breathing could be heard.
Then he tipped up his face and slowly brushed his lips along Sheng Linyou's jaw. His warm, chapped lips grazed his chin, then the corner of his mouth, before stopping beside his lips.
There, Yin Xigui went still.
Sheng Linyou could feel his breathing turn erratic, each exhale hot and hurried against his mouth.
Yin Xigui did not kiss him. He merely hovered there, a tiny breath escaping between his lips.
“Gege... may I?”
Sheng Linyou's entire spine went taut. He turned his head aside, making their lips miss. Yin Xigui's mouth brushed his cheek instead and landed against his earlobe.
“You still have a fever.” Sheng Linyou's voice was terribly hoarse, but he raised an arm around Yin Xigui's back. Avoiding the wounded places, he pressed a palm to the warm small of Yin Xigui's back and drew him closer. “Ask me again when you're better.”
Yin Xigui was silent for two seconds. Then he buried his face in the crook of Sheng Linyou's neck and let out a muffled laugh.
The vibration traveled through his chest. Sheng Linyou could feel every inch of that scorching body trembling faintly against his own.
“Gege, your ears are red.”
“Shut up and sleep.”
Yin Xigui obediently fell silent, but his fingers remained hooked beneath the hem of Sheng Linyou's shirt, tracing lazy circles against the exposed strip of his waist.
Sheng Linyou endured it with his eyes closed for perhaps three minutes. At last, he pulled the hand out from under his shirt, enclosed it in his palm, and pinned it over Yin Xigui's chest through the blanket.
“Stop moving.”
Yin Xigui wriggled beneath the covers.
“Good night, Gege.”
Sheng Linyou did not know when he fell asleep. By the time he woke, daylight flooded the room and his arms were empty. Yin Xigui stood by the window with his back turned, putting on a jacket. His movements were still slightly sluggish, but much steadier than the day before.
He had casually swept his long pink hair behind one ear, exposing a slender stretch of pale neck. A faint blue bruise ran down from his hairline and disappeared beneath his collar.
When Sheng Linyou sat up, Yin Xigui heard the movement and turned around.
“You're awake, Gege! I feel much better today.”
He did look considerably healthier. His cheeks had regained their normal color, and his eyes were bright again.
Sheng Linyou looked him up and down. His gaze paused on the bruise at the back of Yin Xigui's neck, but he said nothing.
“Hungry?”
“Yes.” Yin Xigui came over and leaned toward the bed, planting both hands on either side of Sheng Linyou and caging him between his arms.
“Will you cook for me again today?”
“In your dreams. You're better now, so cook for yourself.”
Yin Xigui blinked. Then he abruptly lowered his head and kissed the center of Sheng Linyou's brow, his warm lips touching the skin for only an instant before he drew back.
Sheng Linyou froze. Yin Xigui had already straightened and retreated two steps. The tips of his ears were tinged red, but the smile on his face had only widened, carrying a hint of triumphant satisfaction as he declared with perfect seriousness,
“A good-morning kiss.”
Sheng Linyou sat motionless on the bed and stared at him for three seconds. Then he threw back the covers, got up, and walked barefoot to Yin Xigui.
Yin Xigui tilted his face up. Less than half a step separated them.
Sheng Linyou stood more than half a head taller. When he looked down, his shoulders blocked most of the light coming through the window. His shadow fell over Yin Xigui, enclosing him completely within his silhouette.
“Yin Xigui.”
“Mm?” His voice had grown quieter.
Sheng Linyou caught his chin and tilted it upward. His thumb pressed against the corner of Yin Xigui's mouth and rubbed lightly over it.
Yin Xigui's lips were still somewhat cracked, rough beneath his fingertip. When Sheng Linyou's thumb brushed past, Yin Xigui parted his lips. The tip of his tongue appeared briefly and touched the pad of Sheng Linyou's thumb.
Sheng Linyou's breathing grew heavy for an instant. His thumb slid from the corner of Yin Xigui's mouth to the center of his lower lip. A little pressure parted those lips, revealing the damp line of teeth within.
“Say it again,” Sheng Linyou ordered in a voice pitched exceedingly low. “What did you just do?”
Yin Xigui blinked twice. The tips of his ears burned even redder, but he did not retreat. Instead, he stepped half a pace closer until their chests nearly touched.
He raised his face, lips almost brushing Sheng Linyou's chin.
“A good-morning kiss. Didn't you hear me, Gege?”
Sheng Linyou removed his thumb from Yin Xigui's lower lip, clasped the back of his neck, and pulled him bodily into his arms. Yin Xigui's forehead struck his collarbone, drawing a muffled grunt from him. The next moment, Sheng Linyou had him locked between his arms, one warm palm pressed against his back.
“You fucking—” Sheng Linyou swallowed. The rest of the sentence never came. He only held Yin Xigui more tightly.
Yin Xigui tilted his head up from within his embrace. The tip of his nose rubbed against the new layer of stubble on Sheng Linyou's chin, tickling him until his eyes narrowed.
“Your beard is growing again, Gege.”
“I'll shave in a minute.”
“I'll shave it for you.”
“No need.”
“There is.” Yin Xigui struggled just far enough out of his arms to beam up at him.
Sheng Linyou looked at that face, still faintly flushed. The corner of his own mouth moved before he could stop it. He raised a hand and pinched the tip of Yin Xigui's nose.
“Get changed. We're going downstairs to eat.”
But they never got to eat.
They were sitting across from one another at the dining table, bowls of congee freshly served, when the doorbell rang. Yin Xigui had picked up a bite of vegetables and was about to place it in Sheng Linyou's bowl. His hand paused, and the food dropped onto the table.
Sheng Linyou got up to answer the door. The instant it opened a crack, his pupils contracted and he instinctively stepped half a pace back.
Yin Ou stood outside. Two gauze pads were taped to his face, his left arm was immobilized against his chest, and the right corner of his mouth remained swollen. He looked utterly wretched.
Yet he was smiling—the kind of smile that sent a chill down one's spine.
“What? Aren't you going to invite your big brother in?”
Sheng Linyou blocked the doorway without moving aside. “Fuck off.”
Yin Ou cocked his head. His gaze traveled over Sheng Linyou's shoulder to Yin Xigui, who had risen in the living room. His voice grew louder, taking on a peculiar, mocking cadence.
“Little brother, you've certainly grown bold. Dad gave his word last night. If you dare keep this man in your home, he'll cut off every last thing he gives you—the house, your money, your student status. You won't keep any of it.”
Yin Xigui's fingers tightened around his bowl. Its rim struck the table with a crisp clink.
“I'm not using the family's money.”
His voice was flat, far removed from his usual tone. “He gave me this house. Whether I live here is my decision.”
Yin Ou laughed and licked the cut at the corner of his mouth. “Well, look at you. But do you know—”
Before he could finish, Sheng Linyou slammed the door in his face. Yin Ou struck the door twice from outside and hurled a few muffled curses before his footsteps gradually receded.
Silence returned to the living room. Yin Xigui stood beside the table, still holding the bowl. A thin skin had already formed over the congee.
“Don't listen to his bullshit.” Sheng Linyou returned, took the bowl from his hands, and set it down. “Eat.”
“Gege.” Yin Xigui remained where he was, head lowered. His voice was much softer than before. “What if he really cuts me off?”
“Then I'll provide for you.”
Yin Xigui raised his head.
Sheng Linyou stood before him, sunlight pouring through the window and tracing the side of his face in gold.
He looked down at Yin Xigui, expression calm, as though he were talking about the most ordinary thing in the world.
“I can cook, drive, and fight. You supported me once; I'll support you in return. We're even.”
Yin Xigui's eyes reddened at once. His lips trembled twice before he flung himself forward and wrapped his arms around Sheng Linyou's waist, rubbing his face repeatedly against his chest.
The impact drove Sheng Linyou half a step backward. He reached up to steady the back of Yin Xigui's head.
“All right, enough. The congee's getting cold.”
“It isn't.” Yin Xigui's voice came muffled through his shirt, soft and clingy. “I'll remember everything you just said.”
That afternoon, Yin Xigui's energy improved considerably. After showering and changing clothes, he curled up clean and refreshed on the couch to watch television.
Sheng Linyou sat beside him, leafing through an old magazine he had pulled at random from the bookshelf. An arm's length separated them, but Yin Xigui's toes brushed his calf every so often. Each time Sheng Linyou knocked them away, they soon returned.
Toward evening, Yin Xigui's phone chimed. He picked it up and glanced at the screen. His brows drew together for barely half a second before his expression returned to normal.
“Who is it?”
“Zhizhi. He asked how I'm feeling today.” Yin Xigui turned the lit screen toward Sheng Linyou. It was indeed a message from Lin Zhi, written in an ordinary tone. “He also said he's found a possible lead on the collar and told me not to worry.”
Sheng Linyou grunted in acknowledgment and asked no further questions. Yin Xigui set down his phone and took the opportunity to lean closer. He rested his head on Sheng Linyou's shoulder and hooked his fingers around the hand lying on Sheng Linyou's knee, playing with each knuckle in turn.
“Gege.”
“Mm?”
“Your hand is so big.”
Sheng Linyou glanced sideways at him. Yin Xigui had spread his hand open to compare their palms. With palm pressed to palm, the tip of Yin Xigui's little finger reached only Sheng Linyou's first knuckle, falling far short.
“It makes me look so small,” Yin Xigui muttered. He turned his hand and intertwined their fingers, his thumb gently stroking the back of Sheng Linyou's hand.
Sheng Linyou lowered his gaze to their joined hands. Yin Xigui's warm palm pressed against his, slightly damp with perspiration.
That thumb moved back and forth over his hand in slow, unhurried circles, as though tracing some invisible shape.
Without warning, Sheng Linyou tightened his grip and pulled Yin Xigui toward him.
Caught off guard, Yin Xigui toppled over and landed on Sheng Linyou, lying faceup across his lap as he stared at him.
The laugh track of some variety show rose and fell from the television, but neither of them was listening.
Sheng Linyou looked down at his face. The position bared the entire line of Yin Xigui's neck, his Adam's apple rising faintly above the small hollow of shadow at his collarbone.
“You—” Sheng Linyou had barely spoken a single word when the phone rang again.
Yin Xigui reached for it. The instant he saw the screen, his expression changed.
Sheng Linyou noticed and leaned over to look. No name appeared on the caller ID, only a string of numbers, but Yin Xigui's fingers tightened around the edge of the phone until his knuckles turned white.
“Who is it?”
Yin Xigui did not answer. He accepted the call and held the phone to his ear.
The voice on the other end was quiet, but the living room was silent enough for Sheng Linyou to make out a man speaking very quickly.
As Yin Xigui listened, the color slowly drained from his face and the smile vanished from his lips.
He said nothing until the very end, when he murmured, “I understand,” and hung up.
The phone slipped from his hand onto the couch.
“What happened?”
Yin Xigui sat upright and buried his face in his hands, rubbing hard twice. Then he raised his head and looked at Sheng Linyou.
Mist churned in his eyes for a moment before he forced it back. He sniffed and pulled his lips into a smile.
“Gege.”
“Tell me.”
“My father says I have to go on a blind date next week. The Li family's eldest daughter. He wants an arranged marriage.”
The air in the living room went abruptly still. The canned laughter on television continued.
Sheng Linyou stared at him for a long time. Yin Xigui stared back, the rims of his eyes gradually reddening as his lips pressed together until they turned pale.
“Did you—” Sheng Linyou began, his voice as rough as sandpaper against metal. Looking at Yin Xigui's pale, delicate face, he suddenly caught his chin and pulled him closer until their foreheads touched.
“Did you agree?”
Yin Xigui's lashes trembled. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, ran down his cheek, and reached the place where their foreheads met. It was warm and wet against their skin.
“I don't want to.” His voice shook violently. “But he said that if I refuse to go, he'll transfer control of the collar to Yin Ou.”
Sheng Linyou closed his eyes once, then opened them again.
He released Yin Xigui's chin and cradled his face between both hands, using his thumbs to wipe the tears away with force.
But Yin Xigui only cried harder. The tears soaked Sheng Linyou's fingers, rolling down one drop after another.
“Don't cry.” Sheng Linyou's voice was soft, yet carried the weight of something unshakable. “I'm here. He can do whatever he wants—I'm not leaving.”
Yin Xigui parted his lips as though he wanted to speak. In the end, he merely threw himself into Sheng Linyou's arms and buried his face against his chest, his shoulders shaking violently.
Sheng Linyou wrapped his arms around Yin Xigui's back, his palm resting against his shoulder blade. Beneath it, he could feel the uncontrollable trembling of Yin Xigui's body.
“Next week, right?” Sheng Linyou lowered his head and kissed the crown of his hair, his lips touching the pink strands lightly. “Then we still have time.”
Yin Xigui jerked his head up from Sheng Linyou's arms. His eyes were swollen red and tear tracks still marked his face, but a spark of light had appeared within them.
Sheng Linyou looked down at him and brushed a thumb beneath his wet eye. Then he suddenly smiled.
“Why are you crying when your gege is here?” he said, the roguish curve of his mouth identical to that of the young man standing beside the race car in the photograph.