When Jiang Xiuqing went cold, the air pressure in the entire room went with it — and Ling Yun's heart did a stuttering little skip. Saying separate rooms with no warning like that was genuinely his fault. But he really, truly could not share a room with Jiang Xiuqing right now.
"Ling Yun — give me a reason."
After a long look at Ling Yun, Jiang Xiuqing lowered his eyes, cutting off every visible emotion — but his voice carried an impossible-to-fake hollow note in it. A look so pitiable it hit the chest.
Ling Yun's heart broke on impact.
He hated seeing Jiang Xiuqing look like this.
In his memory, Jiang Xiuqing was one in a million — noble as a god, always measured and confident and masterful. His face was not the kind that showed loss. Seeing it now was almost like a transgression.
But he genuinely couldn't share a room. His mouth opened and closed, and no reason came out.
"Understood." Jiang Xiuqing read the conflict in Ling Yun's eyes with perfect clarity. He considered. Then, finally, he released the arm around Ling Yun's waist. His voice went quiet, his expression distant. "Our Ling Yun has grown up. Tired of me. Doesn't want to share a room. Fine. I'll ask the butler to get you a guest room."
"That's not it."
Ling Yun, now free, didn't take the opportunity to bolt. He stood there in a mild panic. "Xiuqing-gege — I don't think you're old. You're not old at all. You're not even thirty. In my eyes you're always the youngest."
"Not old — then what is it?" This time Jiang Xiuqing didn't follow Ling Yun's lead. He pressed — and his eyes were very dark and still.
That stillness made Ling Yun's whole body go tense.
"Sweetheart — tell me. Why do you suddenly not want to share a room? We've been doing this for over a decade. Why now — is it because…" Jiang Xiuqing's eyes went sharp. His expression harder. "Is it because our Ling Yun has a girl he likes, and you're worried about what she'd think, so you want to sleep separately?"
"No. Xiuqing-gege — I don't have a girl."
Seeing Jiang Xiuqing's speculation spiraling somewhere irrational, Ling Yun panicked. He reached out and grabbed him — patting his back the same way Jiang Xiuqing always patted him, voice going soft and reassuring. "Xiuqing-gege — don't overthink it. There's no reason. I was just upset because you teased me, and I wanted separate rooms. That's all."
He still didn't say the real thing.
He buried it even deeper.
He was absolutely not going to let Jiang Xiuqing know he'd developed inappropriate thoughts about him. If those thoughts ever came out — Jiang Xiuqing might find him revolting. That thought made Ling Yun hold on tighter.
With Ling Yun's arms around him, Jiang Xiuqing turned into the embrace — tucked his face into the curve of Ling Yun's neck and breathed in, very quietly, just once. The smile in his eyes was impossible to suppress.
His little sweetheart was adorable.
Adorable enough that he couldn't imagine ever letting go. Whatever it took.
Because Jiang Xiuqing had his face buried where Ling Yun couldn't see it, Ling Yun couldn't read the expression — and with guilt riding him from his own recent overstepping, he was racking his brain trying to remember how Jiang Xiuqing comforted him when he was being difficult. "Xiuqing-gege — I was wrong. I'm sorry." Every time he'd thrown a tantrum, Jiang Xiuqing had apologized first. If Jiang Xiuqing apologizing worked on him — his own apology should work on Jiang Xiuqing, right?
"Really sorry?"
Another quiet, deep breath. When his senses were full of Ling Yun's presence, Jiang Xiuqing finally spoke — muffled and sulky, but the corner of his mouth was lifting higher and higher in the place Ling Yun couldn't see.
"Really sorry. Xiuqing-gege — I was wrong. Really wrong."
Ling Yun was practically prepared to raise his hand and swear to it. He could feel the depth of his own urgency — if Jiang Xiuqing's discomfort made him feel this way, he understood he cared far too much for his own peace of mind. He didn't want Jiang Xiuqing upset. He would give up any principle to make it stop.
"Then — separate rooms tonight or not?"
As the words came out, Jiang Xiuqing pulled Ling Yun tighter, his arms just barely not steady.
Ling Yun didn't dare speak of it again. In rapid succession: "No. Xiuqing-gege — not tonight."
Jiang Xiuqing wasn't satisfied with just tonight. He pushed his advantage: "And going forward?"
"Going forward — not either." What else could he say? He'd let himself be outmaneuvered at every turn. Fine. He accepted it. At least when Jiang Xiuqing eventually got married, they'd have to separate then. He'd already been hurt once by the thought of that particular loss. He didn't want to invite more hurt by starting early.
"Sweetheart means it?"
"Means it." Ling Yun dared say nothing else.
"Really?"
Jiang Xiuqing at this moment was acting exactly like Ling Yun did at his most difficult.
"Really, really, absolutely, genuinely means it." Ling Yun's frustration with the entire situation was palpable — he'd gone around the full circle, achieved nothing, and ended up bound to even more unreasonable terms. Absolute loss.
"Good — I believe you. Come on — it's late. Let's turn in early." And finally, finally, Jiang Xiuqing released Ling Yun and took his hand, walking him toward the master bedroom — his footsteps notably light, expression no longer anywhere near as hollow as it had been.
He was actually in a better mood now?!
Something clicked as they walked, and Ling Yun's eyes narrowed with dawning suspicion.
Wait. Had he just been played?
Running through every interaction he'd had with the supremely strategic Jiang Xiuqing in recent memory, Ling Yun's suspicion swelled — and his steps slowed without his realizing it.
Sensing he'd let the satisfaction show a little too much, Jiang Xiuqing contained it, then turned and looked at Ling Yun with an expression that was carefully unreadable. "Sweetheart — were you just telling me you don't want separate rooms to comfort me? Were those your real feelings?"
"They were. Everything I said was from the heart."
One look at Jiang Xiuqing's face — no smile anywhere — and every suspicion evaporated.
"Then why are your feet dragging like that?" Jiang Xiuqing looked pointedly down at Ling Yun's feet, tone laden with quiet grievance.
Ling Yun: Fine. I give up. I was wrong. You win. I am sorry.
There was nothing to argue and nothing to explain. He grabbed Jiang Xiuqing's hand and practically dragged him toward the bedroom at double the pace he'd been dawdling at — not a word of protest said, and not a foot lifted slowly. He was just afraid that if he moved any slower, Jiang Xiuqing would produce another impossible development.
He was genuinely worn out from being put through this.
Who asked him to be the one in the wrong? Being in the wrong meant taking the fall, even if you were getting played. That was the deal.
Being dragged along, Jiang Xiuqing was satisfied. If not for the massive effort of holding the smile down, it would have been audible all the way to the end of the corridor.
Washed up and in bed. Both lying in the wide expanse of it.
Having climbed in first, Ling Yun lay with his eyes shut and worked very hard to ignore the heat source radiating steadily from beside him. He wanted to sleep as quickly as possible.
It didn't cooperate. Jiang Xiuqing, who had come to bed later, extended one arm — and the Ling Yun who had been steadily migrating toward the edge was pulled back into the middle, tucked against him. Their bodies pressed warmly together.
Ling Yun froze. Every hair on him standing at attention.
Good thing his back was to Jiang Xiuqing. Because if he'd been facing him, the shock might have sent him rolling Jiang Xiuqing right off the edge…
"Sweetheart — asleep?" Pressed against Ling Yun's back, Jiang Xiuqing felt the sudden rigidity and almost broke — he was very close to a laugh escaping. Every single reaction from his little sweetheart was a new gift.
The very last thing Ling Yun was going to do was answer Jiang Xiuqing right now. He lay there, eyes firmly shut, playing dead.
Being asleep was the only way to be un-awkward. Being asleep was the only way to stop thinking about that one catastrophic thing he'd done with his tongue.
Seeing that Ling Yun was apparently committed to not responding, Jiang Xiuqing pulled him tighter, pressing closer.
Ling Yun's firmly closed eyes began moving rapidly, independently, behind his lids — and the memory of lips meeting lips played back without mercy…
That night, Ling Yun did not sleep well.
Every time he closed his eyes — that scene. And the sensation of the contact — replaying, replaying, replaying, until he could no longer bear the torment and wrenched his eyes open with everything he had.
The dream dissolved. Consciousness returned.
But what was in front of him was worse.
He'd been lying with his back to Jiang Xiuqing. Why, upon opening his eyes, was the first thing he saw a face of such absolute perfection that he couldn't find an angle that didn't qualify as perfect — the strong brows, the long lashes, the high nose, the precise lips, the clean jawline, the elegant neck, the broad chest…
Looking at the view — and breathing Jiang Xiuqing's exhaled breath — Ling Yun's face blazed back to life.
Was he going insane?
Just then — long lashes gave a tiny, telltale flutter.
About to wake up.
Ling Yun closed his eyes.
"Sweetheart." Sensing that Ling Yun had been awake for a while, Jiang Xiuqing opened his eyes and found his little sweetheart apparently in the deepest sleep of his life. He looked for a long moment. Then he pressed his lips to Ling Yun's forehead, stood up, and went to the bathroom.
If he stayed any longer, he was genuinely worried Ling Yun would suffocate himself.
In all his years, he had never seen someone forget to breathe while pretending to sleep.
The bathroom door closed. Alone at last, Jiang Xiuqing let himself smile at the mirror — silently, unreservedly. His little sweetheart was impossibly endearing. Every day, a new level of surprising. If not for the concern of pushing too fast — he would have kissed those lips he thought about day and night the very first chance he had.
Back in the bedroom — hearing the bathroom door close — Ling Yun finally, finally exhaled.
He opened his eyes. Wide awake.
That had been close. He had genuinely almost stopped breathing just now. He'd never been this tense in his entire life. When he was little, no matter how cold or severe Jiang Xiuqing got, he was never scared. He couldn't explain why, after that one thing his tongue had done the night before, he suddenly couldn't look Jiang Xiuqing in the eye.
A sigh, inward.
He stretched — and his eyes went very, very round.
Holy—!
Jiang Xiuqing had been in the bathroom long enough to give Ling Yun time to decompress before opening the door. He came out to find Ling Yun rummaging in the wardrobe, bent over, back to the door.
He stood and watched for a good moment before speaking, eyebrow raised. "Sweetheart — what are you doing?"
Ling Yun, turning around — a pair of shorts in his hand: Gege, did you have to come out right now?
Jiang Xiuqing's gaze moved from the item in Ling Yun's hand to Ling Yun himself.
"Don't look!" Face detonating with color, Ling Yun vanished past Jiang Xiuqing in a gust of air and slammed the bathroom door behind him.
Listening to the emphatic click of the lock, Jiang Xiuqing stood still for a moment — replaying Ling Yun's expression — and then he couldn't hold it anymore. He laughed. Full, bright, uncontained.
His little sweetheart had just grown up.
