Chapter 50: Love Piercing to the Bone, Pain Beyond Endurance
Moonlight spilled down in silvery radiance from the sky. Zhou Yili’s half-bared collarbone was damp with droplets of water. He glanced indifferently at his phone and caught sight of that photo taken on a rainy night, an umbrella held overhead.
He let out a soft, derisive laugh.
Was this really something worth showing off, just because he’d looked at it?
“Do I look good?”
Warm breath, tinged with the faintest heat, brushed his ear, curling into his earlobe like a little hook.
Zhou Yili stiffened, almost imperceptibly.
He turned his gaze, looking at the person behind him by the light of the moon, his voice roughened slightly. “Shen Jixing, are you drunk?”
The slender, pale figure stood behind him, white casual shirt made of soft fabric, damp bangs framing features that remained ever elegant and cool.
After a moment, Shen Jixing spoke slowly, “I haven’t had any alcohol.”
His silence stretched.
Drunk, and not lightly.
Zhou Yili’s eyes lingered on his beautiful face, so dangerously alluring up close.
He recalled, once again, that kiss in the shadowy corner of the night-view restaurant.
His Adam’s apple slid as he forced down the urge rising within him.
Why was he always the one kissing him, after all?
It made him seem so unwilling to let go.
Taking advantage of his drunkenness, Zhou Yili ordered, “Go on, play me something.”
Shen Jixing glanced at the piano bathed in moonlight, then back at the phone screen, as if to say: you still haven’t answered whether I look good or not.
Zhou Yili looked at him, inexplicably amused, and scoffed quietly, “You look good.”
“No one could look better than you.”
At least, Zhou Yili had never met anyone who did.
Shen Jixing’s brows flickered ever so slightly, but he showed no greater reaction. He slid his phone into his pocket and, lips just faintly curved, went to play.
Zhou Yili fell silent.
He tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and lay on the swing.
Damn, so obedient.
Clear, melodious notes spilled from the piano—a first for Zhou Yili, seeing him like this, drunk.
There’d never been the chance before; the one time they did, Shen Jixing hadn’t taken a single sip, instead smashing the glass over his head.
Zhou Yili sat quietly for a long while, throat parched and aching. In the end, he couldn’t resist anymore and sprang to his feet.
“I’ll kiss you one more damn time. You owe me this.”
He moved with the brute grace of a grown lion, wild blue-black hair tousled by the wind, pinning Shen Jixing against the piano with one hand cradling the back of his neck.
Shen Jixing seemed startled, blinking in confusion.
Zhou Yili’s words were gruff, but he still sought permission.
“Is that alright?”
Shen Jixing owed him too much.
And yet, even for a kiss, he had to ask if he was willing.
He wouldn’t be, Zhou Yili thought. This man was so proud; last time in the restaurant, he’d struggled like a kitten.
Shen Jixing tilted his head, brushed their noses together, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Zhou Yili’s lips.
He spoke, voice as cool and tranquil as ever, “You’re handsome too, little lion.”
Something seemed to explode in Zhou Yili’s mind. He didn’t even comprehend what ‘little lion’ meant, or who it referred to. He simply looked down and kissed Shen Jixing’s cool lips, pinning him to the piano.
Love, sharp as a blade, so painful it was unendurable.
Desire, once unleashed, became a flood impossible to hold back.
Zhou Yili’s actions were as rough as his temperament. His slightly sharp teeth grazed those soft lips, and Shen Jixing, resisting, tilted his head away.
In his muddled thoughts, he wondered…
The little lion didn’t used to be like this.
Zhou Yili gripped his wrists, pressing them to the black and white keys, his eyes so red at the corners they seemed to burn.
“Why are you dodging?”
“You came to me yourself, wasn’t that because you secretly liked me?”
Shen Jixing didn’t want kisses like this, pushing him away as the piano thudded dully beneath their struggle.
Zhou Yili knew better than anyone that Shen Jixing came to him because he had nowhere else to go.
He was his last refuge.
Sensing Shen Jixing’s resistance, Zhou Yili loosened his grip. Shen Jixing, cold and distant, shoved him away, glaring through eyes misted with unshed tears.
Pressing his aching lips together, he left the garden without a backward glance.
I’ve angered him again…
Zhou Yili’s mind, heated by alcohol, left his ears and the corners of his eyes flushed red. He raked a hand through his wild black and blue hair.
“Damn, I really am a pervert,” he muttered, breath ragged with self-reproach.
His gaze fell to the phone lying on the soft grass, the slender, refined figure in that rain-soaked photo once again invading his thoughts.
Zhou Yili bent to pick up the phone, quietly staring at the image.
He brushed it lightly with his thumb.
A hoarse, unwilling voice scattered into the night wind: “Couldn’t you just like me, even for a moment?”
…
Shen Jixing went straight down to the first floor.
When people instinctively seek a sense of safety, they choose the room where they sleep; but he seemed not to like narrow, enclosed spaces.
Deep in the night, the lights on the first floor were all ablaze, the coldly luxurious living room opulent and bright.
Shen Jixing wrapped himself in a blanket on the sofa, pressing a bottle of cold milk to his lips.
Twice in a single day, bitten by the ‘dog.’
No one could stand it.
His skin was always thin and pale; now his lips burned so painfully he could only numb them with the cold glass bottle, fingertips tinged pink from the chill.
When Zhou Yili came downstairs, he thought Shen Jixing looked pitiful.
Even drunk, he still carried that aloofness, but now with an inexplicable softness, as if he were innocent and easy to bully.
Seeing Zhou Yili, Shen Jixing instinctively pressed his back against the sofa—a gesture of guarded retreat.
Zhou Yili paused.
“Can I take that?” He stopped at a distance, gesturing to the glass bottle in Shen Jixing’s hand.
Shen Jixing’s clear eyes regarded him coolly.
Zhou Yili raised his hands in surrender. “I swear I won’t touch you.”
He might as well coax him like a child; after all, it was his fault for hurting him.
Shen Jixing placed the glass bottle on the table, agreeing but avoiding any chance of physical contact.
Only then did Zhou Yili remember: he never liked to be touched.
Yet, in all the time they’d lived together, Shen Jixing had never shown this habit in front of him.
“Why aren’t you moving?” Shen Jixing looked up, gaze direct.
Resigned, Zhou Yili went over to serve this little prince, pressing the cold bottle gently to his reddened lips. He asked casually, “Is it cold?”
Shen Jixing glanced at him, his thoughts unclear, memories blurred, erasing so many fragments—only the traces of their time together remained.
“You weren’t like this before,” he said softly, eyes lowered.
Back then, Zhou Yili had been flamboyant and adorable, obedient to his every word.
He’d done everything with the utmost care.
Zhou Yili snorted as if he’d heard a joke. “I was seventeen then, Professor Shen.”
At that tender, inexperienced age, it was easy to be led in circles by him.
“I’m twenty-five now. What do you think?”
He couldn’t possibly have made no progress at all, still haunted and helpless under this man’s thumb.
Unrequited love isn’t the fate of mermaids.
It’s his fate.
Shen Jixing looked at him with eyes as pale as water, seeming to see many changes.
His black hair now streaked with blue, he’d grown taller, his figure… Zhou Yili had never undressed in front of him, so he didn’t know if his body had changed.
Shen Jixing’s gaze dropped, the tips of his ears tinged red.
“Are you feverish?” Zhou Yili quickly took away the milk bottle. “Tsk, you…”
Bite twice and he complains it’s hot and hurts, use a glass bottle to cool it and he might catch a chill.
Zhou Yili was at a loss as to how to handle this princess.
He tried to check Shen Jixing’s temperature, but Shen Jixing turned his head to avoid his hand.
Zhou Yili sighed.
Fine, no touching then.
Shen Jixing, clutching his blanket, stood up, his cool, elegant eyes clouded with sleepiness. “I want to sleep.”
He’d already showered; after all the ruckus, his black hair was nearly dry. Zhou Yili gave his permission.
“Go up and sleep, I’ll turn off the lights.”
This guy had come down and switched on every single one.
Shen Jixing watched him silently for two seconds, then waited at the foot of the stairs.
One by one, the lights went out. Shen Jixing’s long lashes trembled minutely, but he remained still until the last light was extinguished.
Only the stairwell lights remained, casting their gentle, unobtrusive glow.
His lowered hand began to tremble.
Just as Zhou Yili turned to climb the stairs, arms wrapped around his waist—
He paused in surprise, amused. “Weren’t you the one who wouldn’t let me touch you? Now you’re crawling into my arms.”
There was no answer.
Zhou Yili knew he was afraid of the dark, but with the stairwell lights left on, it shouldn’t have been enough to frighten him.
He said nothing, simply lifted Shen Jixing into his arms and carried him upstairs. After a long silence, he finally asked, “Shen Jixing, are you really afraid of the dark?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Still, there was no reply.
Zhou Yili thought, perhaps he hadn’t reached the point where Shen Jixing could open his heart.
Just as he was sure the man wouldn’t speak, Shen Jixing buried his head against Zhou Yili’s chest and said softly,
“For a very long time, I couldn’t see the sun.”