Chapter 83: Once Again, She Rushes Toward Him

The little rose blossomed beneath the moonlight.

Shen Jixing reached out with his usual cool detachment and covered it, his face still as aloof and distant as ever.

“I’m going to take a shower. Think about it.”

He carelessly bundled up the white hair adorned with roses in his arms.

Shen Jixing’s expression remained composed, only the tips of his ears tinged with a faint blush as he walked toward the bathroom.

Zhou Yili was still staring in utter disbelief: (ㅇㅅㅇ❀)

Think about what?

That cold, indifferent voice seemed to linger in his ears.

“I like you very much. You’re my favorite.”

No wonder Zhou Yili now looked completely bewildered.

Shen Jixing’s tone was so calm, it didn’t sound at all like a confession.

It sounded more like—

“I really like fools. Fools are my favorite.”

Or perhaps,

“I really like eating corn. Corn is my favorite.”

In any case, it didn’t sound like he was talking about him.

Yet Shen Jixing had said it so plainly—he liked him, was pursuing him.

He was more precious than anything in the world; Shen Jixing loved him more than anything.

Zhou Yili’s lips curled into a smile. He was elated.

He struggled to suppress the wild urge to grin, leaning back lazily and comfortably.

The next moment, a lion’s howl of pain echoed throughout the entire floor as his wound split open.

“Ah—!”

Zhou Yili was in a private VIP ward.

With the distinguished patient in distress, doctors and nurses from the entire floor poured in.

They eyed Zhou Yili’s freshly bandaged but now torn-open wound in confusion.

“Are you trying to hurt yourself?”

Zhou Yili kept his face cold and silent.

Until the bathroom door opened and Shen Jixing stepped out, still damp.

Gone was the extravagance of makeup, revealing a face of pure, unapproachable arrogance; his features ink-black and porcelain-cold, wet black hair dripping with a forbidden allure.

He asked indifferently, “What happened?”

No more white hair or roses.

No one could read his feelings; he was as untouchable and distant as an immortal exiled to earth.

Doctors and nurses stared in speechless awe: “…”

Zhou Yili’s gaze swept over his half-dampened collarbone, and with a cold voice, he broke everyone’s trance: “Hey, is anyone going to take care of me?”

Doctors hurried to tend to his wound.

Shen Jixing watched quietly as the bandage was removed, revealing the mangled flesh struck by sharp stone.

“What are you looking at?”

Zhou Yili locked eyes with him across the crowd.

The proud, dashing young master, brought to dizzy distraction and a bloody mess by a single sentence.

Zhou Yili looked at that impossibly beautiful, damp, unreal figure.

“It’s all your fault.”

“…”

He said it offhandedly, but Shen Jixing took it to heart.

Unaware of the storm inside Zhou Yili, he instinctively attributed all the wounds to himself, meeting Zhou Yili’s gaze, quiet as a rain-soaked lake.

Shen Jixing still wore that icy, lifeless mask.

But Zhou Yili had come to know him. The faint mist in his eyes was self-reproach.

‘Always about to cry.’

So beautiful and aloof, and yet so delicate and prone to tears.

Like a fragile little porcelain doll, in need of comfort and affection.

Who would have the patience for that?

“The wound is all dressed,” the doctor said affectionately, patting Zhou Yili’s head as he left—perhaps never having seen anyone so hard on themselves.

“Let’s hope your brain’s not injured.”

Zhou Yili shooed them away: “Get out.”

The doctors, business concluded, wanted to ask their idol for an autograph: “Shen—”

Zhou Yili’s gaze was icy: “You, too. Out.”

The nurses were halfway to Shen Jixing, but turned at the VIP’s command.

He was merciless: “Everyone out.”

The nurses left, grumbling under their breath about the stingy patient.

Shen Jixing remained where he was.

His gaze was fixed quietly on Zhou Yili, neither comforting nor asking questions.

Perhaps he had overstepped.

The culprit shouldn’t think a simple confession could erase the pain he’d caused.

Until, in the silent night, Zhou Yili’s low, lazy, and pleasant voice broke the tension.

“Hey, troublemaker.”

“Come here. Hold me.”

…

Zhou Yili was anything but obedient during his recovery.

The doctor told him lying on his stomach would help the wound heal, but he refused.

He thought lying prone was like a little turtle, lacking all dignity.

But the wound was on his back, so he couldn’t lie flat either; he chose to sit, and now he’d found the perfect solution.

He lay in Shen Jixing’s arms.

“Does it hurt?” Shen Jixing stood at the bedside, letting Zhou Yili burrow into his embrace, his white shirt at the waist now rumpled.

“Sorry.”

Zhou Yili seemed to realize his words had been misunderstood.

He laughed, “Shen Jixing, I’m starting to think you’re actually pretty sensitive.”

He had thought this cold, indifferent person would be unfeeling, but his heart was sensitive and intricate.

Shen Jixing didn’t deny it.

His childhood had made him acutely sensitive; the first lesson was to please others.

Because he was a star cast out, he had to try everything to return to the light.

“I was the one who rushed in—it has nothing to do with you.”

Zhou Yili lay in his arms, long, lean arms wrapped around his narrow waist, breathing in his damp and intoxicating scent.

He was getting a little addicted.

His voice grew husky, “It’s not like you had a gun to my head and forced me to save you.”

“Wasn’t it all my own choice?”

Zhou Yili couldn’t help revealing his spoiled nature.

When nestled in this man’s arms, treated with such gentle care, he instinctively wanted to nuzzle closer.

Shen Jixing’s thoughts grew calm and empty; it seemed that every time he felt helpless, the little lion would gently soothe him.

But before he could speak, he felt something loosen at his waist.

“…?”

One of the buttons on his shirt had been undone.

Then, a cool nose tip lightly pressed against his stomach.

Shen Jixing jerked as if scalded, instinctively wanting to pull away, but he couldn’t let Zhou Yili fall—otherwise, the wound would never heal.

“Zhou Yili.”

His voice was icy, edged with warning, the final syllable a little unsteady. “Don’t fool around.”

Zhou Yili had only meant to nuzzle; he hadn’t expected the button to come undone.

All he saw was a dazzling expanse of white, touched with a cool, watery hue.

His eyes darkened instantly.

A lion is mischievous by nature; he only looked like a cat, but wasn’t one.

He was wicked.

“Oh—” Zhou Yili drawled, lazily biting the button, his tone casual and teasing, “It’s no big deal. I’ll button it back up for you.”

His distinct, long fingers gripped Shen Jixing’s waist, forcing him to stand between his legs, as Zhou Yili tilted his head, biting the button as if to fasten it.

Shen Jixing’s ears flushed bright red: “?”

What was this rogue doing?

He might be direct in his feelings, but in matters like this, he was completely naive.

Bo Yu was a controlling ascetic, never allowing his artwork to be sullied; Shen Jixing had never been educated in these things.

All his experience came from dating Zhou Yili eight years ago.

Only that once.

It had been too long.

He was as unpracticed as a blank sheet of paper—every time those little fangs grazed his skin, his lashes quivered and his clear eyes filled with confusion.

“That’s enough. I’m hugging you to comfort you, not to be molested.”

He tugged Zhou Yili’s unruly blue hair back, stopping his mischief.

Zhou Yili’s lips curled, slightly damp, almost laughing in exasperation.

“You say you like me, and this is your reaction?”

He ran his long fingers over the damp traces on Shen Jixing’s skin, slowly buttoning his shirt with one hand.

Shen Jixing said nothing.

After a silent pause, he leaned down and hugged Zhou Yili, closing his eyes and saying nothing more.

Zhou Yili didn’t know what it meant.

But he found Shen Jixing rather endearing—delicate, aloof, and adorable.

He’d thought he could hold out for a long time, enjoying being pursued and cherished.

But the truth was, Shen Jixing said he felt embarrassed to chase him.

So he dared not say more.

He was afraid that if Shen Jixing got upset, he’d stop pursuing him.

Shen Jixing said he liked him, liked him most of all—even in the calmest tone, it stirred storms in his heart.

He was so excited, he ended up battered and bruised.

Zhou Yili clung to his slender back, feeling his suppressed longing break through.

That little lion, reckless and unafraid, awakened in the darkness.

Once again, he charged toward him.

“Treat me well.”

Zhou Yili pressed his face to Shen Jixing’s pale, cool ear, nuzzling it affectionately. “And I’ll give myself to you again.”

——

Oh, the poor and adorable little lion, with his dashing profile picture! I’ve posted the original image in the ‘Out of Control Starlight’ super topic!