Chapter 24: Man-Made Cultivation
Ji Qian’ang was nearly soaked through by the rain. Tang Yu had been shielded beneath his jacket, so he looked considerably better.
Getting drenched himself was no great concern, but Tang Yu was not especially robust. Even with some cover, he would most likely still come down with a cold or fever.
At that moment, Lin Juefei turned from the sofa, hurriedly found several dry towels, and handed them over. “Leave him to me. Go change.”
Ji Qian’ang set Tang Yu down on the sofa and headed upstairs. Tang Yu was still clutching the edge of his phone tightly, unwilling to loosen his grip.
Back in the side room, Ji Qian’ang cleaned himself up in no time. A message appeared at the top of his phone screen. It was from his aunt: Qian’ang, can you take a call? Sisi hasn’t seen you in ages. I can’t coax her down—she’s making a fuss about contacting you.
Ji Qian’ang gripped his phone and went to the door. After confirming it was locked, he stepped out to the balcony and pulled the glass partition shut behind him.
He drew a slow breath and called back.
A soft female voice immediately came through, plainly edged with tears. Wei Sisi called, “Brother Qian’ang, w-where are you? Sisi misses you.”
The chill on Ji Qian’ang’s face finally faded. Even his gaze toward the dark curtain of rain softened without his noticing.
“You miss your brother?” He answered her question in a serious tone. “If Sisi misses me, then of course I’m in Sisi’s heart.”
“Brother’s busy studying. When I have time, I’ll make some to come play with you. All right?”
Ji Qian’ang leaned against the balcony railing, listening to the rain and talking with Wei Sisi for about half an hour.
By the end, Wei Sisi had finally calmed down. Ji Qian’ang rarely let his guard down enough to say so much. The rain in the deep night gradually eased, and the beeping tone of the ended call came through the receiver.
Ji Qian’ang closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
“Qian’ang.”
A voice suddenly reached his ears. His heart tightened. He slipped his phone away as if nothing had happened and looked around.
The voice came again. “Look up.”
Ji Qian’ang raised his head. Lin Juefei was leaning against the upper balcony at the side, holding a hot drink. He gave Ji Qian’ang a meaningful look and lowered his voice. “I had no idea you had a younger sister—”
Ji Qian’ang’s mind exploded. Lin Juefei had most likely overheard the call. He did not know how long the man had been listening, and with rain drifting outside, he could not be sure how much Lin Juefei had heard clearly. None of that mattered. What mattered was that Lin Juefei now knew he had a younger sister.
He quickly looked away, caught hold of the glass door handle, and avoided Lin Juefei’s greeting. “It’s late. I’m going to bed.”
Lin Juefei did not press further. He merely watched Ji Qian’ang’s retreating back and let the corner of his mouth rise.
Ji Qian’ang did not sleep well that night. He tossed and turned on the slightly softer bed.
Rustle—rustle—
Suddenly, a sound reached his ears. He opened his eyes. The room was still pitch-black.
He checked his watch. Four thirty in the morning.
The sound came more clearly. Ji Qian’ang had only just stepped out of bed and slipped into his slippers when something softer than a slipper filled the space beneath his foot.
He jerked his foot back and turned on a bedside lamp to look down.
A small body was curled beside his bed, with a jacket draped over its head, still wriggling beneath it.
He could guess who was under the jacket simply from the shape of that body. Tang Yu had not woken—not from the alcohol, not from the dream.
Ji Qian’ang moved as quietly as he could and crouched in front of Tang Yu, tugging one corner of the jacket upward.
Just as expected, Tang Yu’s eyes were closed. Ji Qian’ang rubbed his forehead. He knew Tang Yu talked in his sleep, but he had not known he sleepwalked too. It was hard to imagine how Tang Yu had felt his way from his own bedroom all the way to the side room. Even asleep, the troublemaker could not behave himself.
Ji Qian’ang gently removed the jacket balanced over his head and tossed it onto the floor. He was about to carry him back to his room.
Tang Yu’s head hung low, both hands gripping his own ankles. Ji Qian’ang lifted him steadily into his arms.
Trying to look after one thing and missing another, Ji Qian’ang caught his foot on a slipper. He pitched forward and nearly took the person in his arms down with him. He reacted at once, tightened his hold, and leaned to the side. The two of them sank into the middle of the bed.
Ji Qian’ang looked at the person in his arms. He had not woken. Relieved, Ji Qian’ang thought there was no harm in letting him sleep in the side room. It was hardly Tang Yu’s first time sleeping here.
He pulled his hand free and was about to get up when Tang Yu seized his collar.
Ji Qian’ang covered Tang Yu’s hand with his own, wanting to peel it away. But the instant he touched him, Tang Yu wrapped both arms around his whole forearm instead. “Don’t go... It’s so warm.”
“Brother...”
Ji Qian’ang could not resist trying to wake him. “Tang Yu, look where you are.”
“Tang Yu.”
Tang Yu gave him no response. He pressed his cheek closer, his even breathing brushing Ji Qian’ang’s forearm. Ji Qian’ang’s brow instantly drew tight.
“Let go.” Unable to endure it any longer, he lightly patted Tang Yu’s cheek.
“Let go of me.”
After several pats to the cheek and Ji Qian’ang scratching under Tang Yu’s chin, Tang Yu finally opened his eyes groggily. In the dim amber darkness, all he could see was Ji Qian’ang’s blurred outline.
He looked at that outline and could not stop himself from reaching up to touch it. “Brother... Brother... it really is you.”
“Mm.” Ji Qian’ang took the opportunity to pull his arm free.
In the next second, Tang Yu opened his arms and threw himself at him. Straddling Ji Qian’ang, he pressed against his chest and began to sob. “I knew it was you. It really is you. You’re so warm... Don’t leave me...”
Ji Qian’ang figured they had only been apart for a short while. Hearing Tang Yu cry made him feel awkward. Tang Yu was almost sprawled across him, while Ji Qian’ang lay pinned beneath him and did not move.
“Brother... sing for me. I want to hear you sing.”
“The one about not being allowed to be destined to be alone, okay? What were those two lyrics you got wrong? I forgot...”
Tang Yu’s burning tears slid down the bridge of his nose and soaked through the thin fabric over the left side of Ji Qian’ang’s chest.
The heat of a tear had already cooled as it traveled. By the time it reached Ji Qian’ang’s heart, it left only a patch of cold.
Those tears gathered together held none of the freezing chill below zero, yet they pierced Ji Qian’ang’s heart like sharp ice picks, bringing waves of pain.
But there was probably nothing he could do. He could only raise a hand with painful awkwardness and lightly pat Tang Yu’s thin back.
Don’t cry. Could you stop crying?
My chest hurts too. It’s irritating.
Then Ji Qian’ang began to sing. The lyrics were the same as the ones he had sung onstage earlier. Without the hoarse static of a microphone, only his low voice passed unobstructed into Tang Yu’s ears.
*
I won’t let you be destined to be alone.
I’ll always hold you close.
Of all the hundred possibilities in a lifetime,
Falling in love with you is fate.
...
He did not know how to comfort someone crying soundlessly. So when the other person made even a small, cautious request, he carried it out at once.
If he could do something—anything—to soothe Tang Yu’s emotions, then he might as well do it, even if it broke his heart.
As it turned out, Ji Qian’ang’s comfort worked. Tang Yu stopped trembling in his arms and even nuzzled forward little by little, warm breaths striking Ji Qian’ang’s Adam’s apple.
“Brother...” Tang Yu called again, wrapping his hands around Ji Qian’ang’s ribs and gripping stubbornly.
The fabric over Ji Qian’ang’s chest was damp with tears now, carrying a faint chill, while the skin around it remained as hot as ever. He touched Tang Yu’s hair and answered.
Getting a response, Tang Yu gave a soft, hazy laugh. He nuzzled closer again; his cool, bitter lips touched Ji Qian’ang’s Adam’s apple and pecked at it, little by little.
Ji Qian’ang went utterly rigid. He sharply turned his neck aside to dodge him, but Tang Yu seemed to have a radar and quickly followed.
“Mm... don’t go. So warm...” Tang Yu nestled into Ji Qian’ang’s neck again. “Warm.”
Ji Qian’ang’s hands at his sides had already clenched into fists, veins standing out. His already feverish body temperature rose by several more degrees.
All he wanted was to rush into the bathroom and stand under the shower. But he could not. A restless idiot was still sprawled over him—an idiot too fogged over to have any idea what he was doing.
And why was he reacting to Tang Yu at all? Naturally, it was Tang Yu’s fault. No one had ever rubbed against him like this before, so close there could be no closer. Damn it.
Ji Qian’ang held his breath and let the person on top of him nuzzle, cling, and touch as he pleased. He was like Tang Yu’s personal stuffed toy, clutched and played with by Tang Yu as if he could not bear to put it down.
He would remember this debt.
Dawn slowly brightened, creeping from the balcony to the edge of the bed. Tang Yu was still pressed on top of Ji Qian’ang, his lips brushing beside Ji Qian’ang’s Adam’s apple, his breathing even.
Ji Qian’ang only stared at the ceiling with dark circles beneath his eyes, expressionless, one hand still clenched tight. He waited. Once the alarm rang, he could wake Tang Yu with a clear conscience.
At last, the alarm went off. Before Ji Qian’ang could speak, Tang Yu groggily pushed himself upright.
Wait. When had the mattress beneath his hands become so hot? And wait—the thing beneath his backside was hot too. Hot, and... hard. Uncomfortably hard.
Tang Yu woke completely. His eyes widened as he realized he was sitting in Ji Qian’ang’s lap.
His neck and ears turned scarlet. He hurriedly swung himself off and rolled onto the floor, crying out in startled disbelief, “Ji—Ji Qian’ang! Why am I in your room?!”
Ji Qian’ang could finally sit up. Every inch of him ached, and the hardness below was painful. His expression was full of impatience. “I’d like to ask you that. Did the young master sleep comfortably last night?”
Tang Yu looked panicked. Then he glimpsed the cluster of red marks beside Ji Qian’ang’s Adam’s apple, clearly visible even from a distance.
Mosquitoes could not possibly keep targeting that spot. He tried to reconstruct what he had looked like before sitting up. His head had been right at Ji Qian’ang’s neck.
Mosquitoes were obviously not that bored. Those marks had been manually planted. And unfortunately, Tang Yu had become the culprit without realizing it.
Even if he dug three thousand kilometers through the earth and threw himself in, it would not be far enough to hide.
Yet he still forced himself to maintain the last shred of dignity. “Don’t you know how to lock your door when you sleep? What if a thief gets into the house?”
“Seriously.” Tang Yu grabbed the jacket from the floor and stood, muttering angrily, though he did not dare meet Ji Qian’ang’s eyes. “No sense of security at all.”
Before long, Tang Yu had successfully retreated from the side room. Ji Qian’ang only gave a humorless laugh and did not argue with him. The ache below was brutally hard to ignore.
He grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom.