35

Ji Su's whole body went rigid, motionless, letting that burning-hot form hold him.

Though Gu Zhao was ill, from what he had just shown, he could still pin Ji Su down with effortless ease.

Gu Zhao buried his face in the fragrant hollow of shoulder and neck, the high bridge of his nose pressed against that snow-white throat, his scalding breath fanning across the delicate skin, each inhale heavy and slow.

After a while, Ji Su could not help turning his face aside: 'I'll go pour you a glass of water, all right?'

Gu Zhao's nose bridge rubbed back and forth against the side of his neck, and he answered in a hoarse voice: 'Water won't solve my problem.'

'Th-then what should we do...' Ji Su's cheeks burned as if they too were about to catch fire, and he proposed at random, 'Maybe you should take another shower?'

'Heh...' Gu Zhao laughed, low and muffled, against his ear. 'Want me to burn even hotter?'

Ji Su denied it: 'No, that's not what I meant...'

Gu Zhao's laughter faded, and he eased his grip a fraction.

Ji Su broke free from his arms at once, his movements so hurried he nearly tumbled off the bed.

'Careful.' Gu Zhao stretched his arm out long, trying to gather him back.

Ji Su steadied himself, and his gaze happened to fall downward.

A thin coverlet lay draped across Gu Zhao's waist, and whether the blanket was too flimsy or the hardware beneath it too impressive, the result was an exaggerated curve plainly on display...

Ji Su came back to himself and bolted for the door: 'I'll go pour you some water.'

Gu Zhao lay on the bed watching him flee, drew a deep breath, and drew the lingering trace of that scent deep into his lungs.

Ji Su ran all the way to the living room, stopped before the dining table, and stilled his panicked heartbeat.

After a long moment he calmed down, and reached up to pour a cup of warm water.

When he returned to the bedroom, Ji Su instinctively softened his footsteps.

He pushed the door open gently, walked to the bedside, and found that the man on the bed had both eyes closed, looking as though he were truly asleep.

Ji Su did not wake him; he set the cup down carefully on the nightstand, his gaze lingering on that handsome, deep-cut face.

Those dark, heavy-lidded eyes were shut, which greatly softened the pressure and the edge between his brows, and for once let something almost harmless show through.

A child of fortune like Gu Zhao — why would he ever come to like someone like him?

And what was there about a person like him, worth Gu Zhao's liking?

Ji Su sighed without a sound, turned, and left the bedroom, easing the door shut behind him.

He lay down on the sofa in the living room, hugged a cushion to his chest, and began to coax sleep toward him.

*

The next morning, when Ji Su woke, he found himself back on the big bed in the bedroom.

He sat up, and only then realized, belatedly, that those previous times had not been him sleepwalking onto the bed in the middle of the night — it had been Gu Zhao carrying him there.

Ji Su got out of bed, went into the bathroom to wash up, and then walked out of the bedroom.

Gu Zhao was pouring milk; hearing the footsteps, he looked up. 'Awake?'

Ji Su asked with concern: 'Has your fever come down?'

Gu Zhao: 'Come feel for yourself.'

Ji Su instinctively reached out a hand, paused it halfway in the air, and lowered it again: 'Do you have a thermometer at home? A thermometer reads more accurately.'

Gu Zhao said nothing, caught his wrist, and pressed it firmly to his own forehead.

Ji Su's fingertips curled in, and he did not manage to pull free.

'How is it?' Gu Zhao asked. 'Still feverish?'

Ji Su felt carefully: 'Seems like it's gone.'

Gu Zhao released his hand: 'Thanks to your good care.'

'I didn't really do anything.' Ji Su, once praised, grew a little shy. 'I just bought you some fever medicine.'

'Not just the medicine.' Gu Zhao's gaze held his face, his tone calm and serious. 'You being here — for me, that works better than any medicine.'

Ji Su's ears burned hot; his eyes darted about at a loss, and he changed the subject: 'You're the patient — how can you still be up early making breakfast?'

Gu Zhao replied: 'Wanted you to sleep a little longer.'

Ji Su's brow moved slightly, and for a moment he did not know what to say in return.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't moved; for as long as he could remember, no one had ever considered every last detail of his life with such care.

But was this kindness truly meant for him?

After breakfast, Ji Su hurried to clear the table, putting the dishes and chopsticks into the dishwasher.

Gu Zhao leaned against the edge of the table, watching him bustle: 'Do you have other things today?'

'Yes.' Ji Su dried his hands. 'I'll head back to School in a bit. You rest at home, all right?'

Gu Zhao smiled, the expression not quite reaching his eyes: 'And if I said no?'

Ji Su: '...'

He tried to negotiate with Gu Zhao: 'You rest first. If the fever comes back, call me, and I'll take you to the hospital, all right?'

Gu Zhao did not press him further: 'Go on, then. I'm going back to School too.'

The two took a taxi back to School, and Ji Su spoke first: 'Let me walk you back to the Dormitory first.'

Gu Zhao asked: 'What do you have to do?'

'The campus cultural festival is coming up. I'm going to represent Music Society and Dance Society in a joint performance.' Ji Su explained concisely. 'So I need to practice the Piano piece these next few days.'

'Dance Society?' Gu Zhao caught the keyword with precision. 'Is your partner male or female?'

Ji Su answered honestly: 'A girl.'

Gu Zhao's brow creased: 'I'll come with you.'

'No need.' Ji Su refused. 'You're sick — you should rest more.'

Gu Zhao's expression darkened a shade, but he said nothing more: 'Let's go.'

In the afternoon, Ji Su arrived at Music Society at the agreed time.

This time Han Meng had arrived even earlier; the moment she saw him come in, she beamed: 'Senior, today I'm a little earlier than you!'

Ji Su glanced at the time on his phone: 'I'm not late, am I?'

'Not at all!' Han Meng shook her head, her ponytail swinging with it. 'I got here a little early — I didn't want to make Senior wait.'

Ji Su: 'That's good, then.'

'Senior, I went back last night and changed two of the moves.' Han Meng began to warm up. 'Help me see — did I change them well?'

'All right.' Ji Su answered, and sat down at the Piano.

After a few rounds of practice, Ji Su stopped, and let the girl rest for a while.

Sitting at the chair playing the Piano cost him little effort, but dancing drained a great deal of stamina.

Han Meng sat cross-legged opposite him, drinking water and chatting as she did: 'Senior, how long have you been playing Piano?'

'Many years.' Ji Su's fingertips brushed lightly over the black and white keys. 'I've been playing this piece since I was small.'

Han Meng asked, curious: 'Then why didn't Senior study art — why architecture instead?'

Ji Su lowered his lashes, half in jest: 'Probably because I discovered I have no talent for art.'

'How could that be?' Han Meng stood up and walked over to him. 'Senior's Piano playing moved me the moment I heard it — how could you have no talent for art?'

Ji Su lifted his lashes and smiled: 'Thank you.'

One seated, one standing — from certain angles, it looked for all the world as though they were gazing into each other's eyes.

Gu Zhao stood in the doorway, his gaze dark and cold, and rapped his knuckles hard against the door.

Two knocks — and Ji Su turned his head: 'Gu Zhao? Why are you here?'

'What?' Gu Zhao's tone was very cold, as though rimed with ice. 'Did I interrupt you?'

Before Ji Su could speak, Han Meng spoke first: 'Are you Senior Gu Zhao?'

Gu Zhao did not so much as glance at her; his gaze was fixed on Ji Su's face: 'Done practicing?'

'Almost.' Ji Su stood up, inexplicably a little guilty. 'Why aren't you resting back at the Dormitory?'

Gu Zhao did not answer; he stood there with one hand in his pocket, plainly intending to wait until Ji Su had finished.

Han Meng, thinking Ji Su still had something to do, offered: 'Senior, why don't we call it a day for practice?'

'Okay.' Ji Su nodded, his gaze falling on her face — then suddenly stalling.

A pretty girl, fair-skinned, with the proportions of a dance student, a sweet personality, and a smile just as sweet.

The Han Meng standing right before him — wasn't she exactly...

...Gu Zhao's ideal type?

Han Meng said considerately: 'Senior, if you have something to do, you can go ahead.'

'Wait...' Ji Su pressed his lips together and made a bold decision. 'Are you going to the cafeteria for dinner?'

Han Meng replied: 'Yes, I was about to.'

Ji Su invited: 'Then let's go together.'

The instant the words left his mouth, he felt the gaze fixed on the back of his head drop another eight degrees.

Ji Su turned back and, bracing himself, asked: 'Gu Zhao, are you coming too?'

Gu Zhao looked at him for a few seconds, then laughed once: 'Of course I'm coming.'

Ji Su's scalp prickled even harder at that laugh, but he couldn't go back on his word: 'Then let's go.'

On the way to the cafeteria, even passers-by three meters away could feel the low pressure radiating from Gu Zhao.

When they finally reached the cafeteria, Ji Su quickened his pace: 'Find a seat first — I'll go see what's good.'

Gu Zhao sat down, his long legs — with nowhere else to go — stretched out into the aisle.

Han Meng sat across from him, her face still wearing that sweet smile: 'Senior Gu Zhao, why are you so hostile toward me?'

Gu Zhao finally looked at her properly, his icy gaze as though regarding some lifeless object.

Han Meng asked softly: 'You like Senior Ji Su, don't you?'

Gu Zhao narrowed his dark eyes slightly: 'What are you trying to say?'

'As far as I know, Senior Ji Su is straight — every boy who's ever pursued him has been rejected.' Han Meng glanced at the figure standing at the counter. 'So my chances should be a bit better than yours, Senior Gu Zhao, shouldn't they?'

Gu Zhao said coldly: 'Is that so?'

Han Meng blinked her big eyes: 'Anyway, after spending these past two days together, I feel like Senior Ji Su has a pretty good impression of me.'

Gu Zhao pressed one hand flat against the table, like a wolf king whose territory had been invaded, fury banked in the depths of his eyes: 'Then try it.'

Just then, Ji Su walked back: 'Have you decided what to eat?'

'No need, Senior.' Han Meng stood up. 'Senior Gu Zhao doesn't seem to be feeling well — Senior, you should take him back to rest early.'

Ji Su's heart clenched, and he reached out to feel Gu Zhao's forehead: 'Is the fever back?'

Gu Zhao lifted a hand, caught his fingers, and drew them down: 'Let's go.'

Before Ji Su could even register the temperature on Gu Zhao's forehead, he was being pulled out of the cafeteria, bewildered.

The wind outside cleared his head a little, and Ji Su tried to pull his hand back: 'Um...'

Gu Zhao's large hand suddenly tightened — then quickly eased its grip.

Ji Su, his mind still on Gu Zhao's illness: 'We should still go to the hospital — a cold won't clear up that fast.'

Gu Zhao said nothing, walked straight to the School gate, pushed him into a taxi, and got in himself.

Ji Su, thinking he had agreed to the hospital: 'Driver, please take us to the nearest hospital.'

'No hospital.' Gu Zhao spoke. 'Yushui Bay.'

The driver was thrown off: 'Where exactly am I going?'

Gu Zhao looked at the rearview mirror: 'Yushui Bay.'

The driver shivered: 'Got it, off we go!'

*

All the way into the residential compound, Gu Zhao did not say another word.

Ji Su's worry turned to unease, privately wondering whether Gu Zhao was angry.

With a beep, Gu Zhao pushed open the door: 'Inside.'

Ji Su stepped in, bent to change his shoes — and the next second, a large hand gripped his waist and lifted him onto the cabinet by the entryway.

He couldn't help a small cry: 'Gu Zhao, what are you—'

The tail of his words cut off short.

Gu Zhao parted his legs, his body slotting between them, and asked coldly: 'Ji Su, what do you think you're doing?'

Ji Su panicked, his gaze evasive: 'I — I'm not doing anything.'

Gu Zhao drew out one hand, gripped his chin, and tilted it up: 'Look at me.'

Ji Su had no choice but to meet those bottomless eyes, and apologized instinctively: 'I'm sorry, I—'

Gu Zhao cut him off: 'I told you — don't apologize.'

Ji Su bit his lower lip: 'I thought... I thought you'd like the type of girl Han Meng is.'

Gu Zhao laughed, half in anger: 'Ji Su, have you been treating everything I've said as so much wind?'

Ji Su denied it: 'I haven't.'

'I said I like you — the person I like is you, Ji Su.' Gu Zhao fixed his gaze on Ji Su's eyes, each word distinct and clear: 'Not Han Meng, not Zhang Meng, not Wang Meng — not even Mengmeng.'

Ji Su shook his head: 'That doesn't make sense...'

Gu Zhao had clearly liked Mengmeng — everything had started from Mengmeng adding the wrong WeChat — so how could it suddenly be overturned?

'Did you really think you played Mengmeng well?' Gu Zhao's gaze was dark and deep. 'Sending the wrong photo — that clumsy excuse — did you think I'd believe it?'

Ji Su's eyes widened slightly: 'Ah?'

Could it be that Gu Zhao had seen through him from that early on?

Gu Zhao said unhurriedly: 'I knew from the start that you'd come with some kind of purpose, but you were the most persistent of anyone I'd ever added.'

Even with no response from him, the other had persisted, sending him messages for two whole days.

His reason for not simply deleting was equally idle — he just wanted to see how long the other would keep it up on his own.

'I admit that when I saw that photo of your legs, I was a little moved by lust.' Gu Zhao lowered his gaze. 'You have a pair of legs that perfectly match my tastes — including that red mole on the side.'

Ji Su's cheeks flushed hot; he unconsciously shifted his legs, brushing against the lean, hard-muscled waist — then sprang back as if electrocuted.

'I wanted to know what you were really after, so I kept talking to you — until—' Gu Zhao lifted his eyes. 'Until that night, when you played me that Piano piece.'

Ji Su gave a small start: 'That night...'

'You didn't know what day it was, or what that Piano piece meant to me.' Gu Zhao smiled slowly. 'But you played it for me just the same.'

It was the first time Ji Su had seen him smile like that — not a cold smile, not a teasing one, but a smile touched with an inexpressible sadness.

Ji Su's fingertips twitched, struggling to hold back the urge to smooth the crease between Gu Zhao's brows.

'At the resort, I already knew you were Mengmeng.' After a pause, Gu Zhao continued: 'You and the Mengmeng online have things in common, and many things that aren't — but you, standing there alive before me, are more likable than the Mengmeng I'd imagined.'

Ji Su was suddenly overcome with grievance: 'But then you still treated me like that — so fiercely forcing me, forcing me to wear a skirt.'

'What made me angry wasn't you pretending to be a girl to trick me into an online relationship.' Gu Zhao's fingers tightened. 'What made me angry was you blocking me and running, not even giving me a chance to find you — do you understand?'

Ji Su's lashes trembled: 'I didn't mean to...'

'Ji Su, I can tell who it is I love.' Gu Zhao's throat moved. 'When will you be able to face your own heart?'

Ji Su's heart in a tangle, instinctively avoiding his gaze: 'Let go of me first.'

'I told you — you can refuse me, but you can't push me toward someone else.' Gu Zhao didn't let go, though his voice dropped very, very low. 'I'm a person too. I can be hurt.'

Ji Su's heart gave a sudden, sharp pang; he bit hard on his lower lip and for a moment felt he could barely breathe.

Had his actions truly hurt Gu Zhao?

Gu Zhao's eyes deepened; with his thumb he rubbed Ji Su's lower lip, neither lightly nor heavily: 'Don't bite.'

Ji Su obediently released his teeth; the damp, full, reddened lip was left with a faint tooth-mark — the kind that stirred an irresistible urge to ravish.

Gu Zhao fixed his gaze on those lips: 'Tonight — did you do wrong?'

Ji Su nodded in admission: 'I did.'

Gu Zhao smiled again: 'Since you did wrong, you'll have to take your punishment.'