36

'Okay... wait!' Ji Su had only just agreed when belated realization caught up with him. 'What punishment?'

Gu Zhao didn't answer. He only asked, 'Will you take it?'

That pretty, delicate face lay cradled in his palm, tilted up by force; the full, glistening-red lips parted slightly — looking for all the world like an invitation to be kissed.

Gu Zhao rubbed the crimson corner of that mouth again and again with the rough pad of his thumb; his Adam's apple gave a single hard swallow, and his throat burned past bearing with thirst.

Ji Su's heart lurched beneath that stare. He stammered, 'You — you tell me what the punishment is first.'

Gu Zhao pinched the pointed chin, drew it toward himself; the high bridge of his nose nearly collided with the uptilted tip.

A wave of scorching breath came at him like a fine, close-woven net, and Ji Su found himself holding his breath without meaning to.

Their lips were a hairsbreadth apart. In that split second of lightning, an alarm shrieked through Ji Su's emptied mind.

The next moment he raised his hand and shoved hard against the chest pressing down on him.

Gu Zhao had no guard up — it was the first time Ji Su had ever pushed him back. His body reeled, and he had to retreat several steps before he found his footing.

'Are you okay?' Ji Su panicked a little. He hopped down from the entryway cabinet, but didn't dare step forward to check.

Gu Zhao narrowed his dark eyes slightly; something dangerous flickered once at the bottom of them and was gone.

Ji Su pressed against the edge of the cabinet, ready to bolt at any moment: 'I didn't mean to...'

Gu Zhao's lips tilted, and he laughed, the meaning unreadable: 'What's there to be so nervous about?'

Ji Su, strung tight as a wire: 'I'm not nervous.'

'The punishment — pick one.' Gu Zhao walked back to stand before him, braced both hands on the cabinet on either side of Ji Su's body, and effortlessly caged him in again. 'First: three smacks on your bottom from me.'

Ji Su: '?'

He could hardly credit his own ears: 'What did you say?'

'Do something wrong, get a spanking.' Gu Zhao spoke at his unhurried pace. 'It's not as though I haven't done it before.'

Ji Su, incredulous: 'When did you ever —'

The words died halfway. Several strange images surfaced unbidden in his mind.

He was wearing nothing but his underwear, lifted from the bathtub by Gu Zhao, laid across his lap, and smacked once on the bottom...

His snow-white cheeks flooded crimson in an instant. Ji Su felt his head begin to swim again.

Gu Zhao's gaze was dark and fathomless, fixed on him: 'Remember now?'

Ji Su came back to himself, voice firm: 'I pick number two!'

'Oh?' Gu Zhao seemed to have expected as much. 'Number two is much simpler. Call me good gege and let me hear it.'

Ji Su: '...'

Calling him gege was one thing — but 'good gege'?

'What?' Gu Zhao smiled, his gaze lowered. 'Or would you rather I spank you?'

'I didn't say that.' Ji Su denied it at once, half-embarrassed, half-indignant, and countered: 'You're always bullying me like this — how exactly are you good?'

Gu Zhao took the slender, pale-white fingers in his own, brought them to his lips, and bit: 'Tell me — how am I bullying you?'

'You — you...' Ji Su shivered at the bite, unable to stop himself protesting: 'You're bullying me right now.'

Gu Zhao's gaze hooked into his face like a fishhook; his tone was impossible to read: 'This counts as bullying you?'

This was nothing. Nothing at all.

Seeing he couldn't wriggle out of it, Ji Su bit his lip, his voice small as a mosquito's hum: 'Good gege...'

Gu Zhao bent and tilted his ear toward him: 'What did you call me?'

'Good gege, good gege!' Ji Su shut his eyes and, with nothing left to lose, shouted it twice. 'Is that good enough?'

Gu Zhao ground his back molars without a flicker of expression, and at last let him off — barely: 'Fine.'

Ji Su reached out a finger and carefully poked a solid forearm: 'Then... is this whole thing over?'

Gu Zhao gave a soft huff, straightened, and walked toward the living room.

Ji Su pressed his palm to his burning cheek and followed: 'Gu Zhao, I really think we should go to the hospital.'

'No need.' Gu Zhao stood beside the dining table, poured a cup of warm water, and handed it to him. 'I'm fine.'

Ji Su wasn't reassured: 'You're really not running a fever anymore?'

'Feverish.' Gu Zhao looked at him. 'Just somewhere else.'

Ji Su asked, bewildered: 'Where?'

Gu Zhao's smile was unreadable: 'You really want to know?'

He didn't know what Gu Zhao meant, but Ji Su's instincts told him it was nothing good. He shook his head: 'No. I don't want to know.'

Gu Zhao looked at him for a few seconds, then looked away: 'What do you want for dinner?'

Only then did Ji Su remember they hadn't eaten. He volunteered eagerly: 'I'll cook tonight. What do you want?'

Gu Zhao was still sick — asking a patient to cook for him was too much.

'No need.' Gu Zhao opened the fridge. 'I'll cook.'

'Fine.' Ji Su knew perfectly well he couldn't win against him, and could only give in: 'Would noodles be okay tonight? I'm in the mood for soup noodles.'

'Good.' Gu Zhao answered. 'Go play for a bit first.'

Ji Su obediently went to the sofa, sat down, and opened his phone to check his messages.

Qiao Jin: [Susu, where have you vanished to again?]

Qiao Jin: [If Gu Zhao's kidnapped you, give me a code word!]

Ji Su: [Xiao Qiao, I haven't been kidnapped.]

Ji Su: [Gu Zhao's still sick. I'm looking after him.]

Ji Su looked at the words he'd sent, then glanced up at the figure busy in the Kitchen — and felt a stab of guilt he couldn't quite shake.

The way things stood now, he was the one being looked after...

Just then, more messages from Qiao Jin arrived.

Qiao Jin: [I don't believe it!]

Qiao Jin: [Gu Zhao looks strong enough to punch a cow dead with one fist — he gets sick that easily?]

Ji Su: [Really, he has a fever.]

Qiao Jin: [Fever? More like a heat, if you ask me!]

Ji Su: '...'

Qiao Jin: [I seriously suspect this is Campus Heartthrob Gu's self-injury stratagem!]

Qiao Jin: [He's just banking on you being soft-hearted!]

Ji Su: [No, Xiao Qiao. Gu Zhao isn't that kind of person.]

Qiao Jin: [Oh-ho, already defending him?]

Ji Su: [I'm just stating facts...]

Qiao Jin: [Fine then, I'll assume I wronged the school heartthrob.]

Qiao Jin: [But I'm still going to warn you, baby — watch out for your personal safety!]

Ji Su: [Don't worry, I will.]

Gu Zhao worked quickly; before long he carried out two bowls of soup noodles, steaming hot.

Ji Su pulled out a chair and sat down, picked up his chopsticks, and saw a fried egg nestled in his own bowl — while Gu Zhao's had only greens and noodles.

'The housekeeper forgot to buy eggs. There was only one left in the fridge.' Gu Zhao noticed his look and offered the explanation, lightly.

Ji Su picked up the fried egg and set it in Gu Zhao's bowl: 'You eat it. The sick person needs the protein more.'

Gu Zhao picked it up and put it back: 'You eat it.'

Ji Su looked at the golden fried egg, and something caught in his throat.

Gu Zhao's brow furrowed: 'What is it? Don't like fried eggs?'

'No... I just remembered something small.' Ji Su let his lashes fall, answering with studied ease: 'At our family table, if there was only one fried egg left, it always went into my younger brother's bowl.'

There were countless little things like this. He had thought he stopped minding long ago — but it turned out they still surfaced, easily, at the slightest nudge.

Gu Zhao looked at him, his tone even: "With me, you'll never have to suffer that kind of slight."

Ji Su pressed his lips together, saying nothing; his crow-feather-dark, thick lashes were quietly dampened by a fine mist of moisture.

Gu Zhao didn't press further: "Eat."

After dinner, it was once again time for the bath-and-bed routine.

After his bath, Ji Su claimed the sofa first: "Gu Zhao, you can't carry me to the bed again tonight."

Gu Zhao leaned back against the headboard: "You sleep too deeply — I carried you and you didn't even stir."

He even suspected that, even if he did something more excessive, the person sleeping in his arms wouldn't wake.

"My sleep quality is just good, that's all." Ji Su protested in a small voice. "But that's still no reason to move me around."

Gu Zhao laughed once: "Then why don't you just sleep in the bed from the start tonight?"

Ji Su declined politely: "No, I prefer your sofa."

That night, before sleep, he kept telling himself he mustn't sleep too deeply tonight.

As expected, the next morning he woke once again on that big bed saturated with Gu Zhao's scent.

Ji Su secretly resolved: until a second bed was added to Gu Zhao's Residence, he wouldn't come for an overnight stay again.

*

The new week — amid a heavy course load, Ji Su carved out several slots to rehearse the stage piece with Han Meng.

Every time, Gu Zhao appeared behind him like a ghost, silent and unannounced, watching their rehearsal the whole way through.

Under all that pressure, on Saturday afternoon the campus arts festival finally opened as scheduled.

Ji Su and Han Meng's number was in the middle of the program; after the host's announcement, the atmosphere in the great hall suddenly turned electric.

The red curtain drew back; on the darkened stage, a single beam of light fell and enveloped the figure seated at the Piano.

Ji Su wore a simple white shirt and black trousers; his soft, ink-dark hair fell naturally, and his long, thick lashes cast butterfly-shaped shadows on his eyelids. Under the light his whole being carried a jade-like, lustrous glow — pure as an angel.

Gu Zhao sat in the second row, his gaze nailed firmly to him, a surging emotion barely restrained in the depths of his eyes.

Slender, pale fingers settled onto the black-and-white keys, and the familiar piano piece poured out like flowing water across the floor.

In that moment, apart from Ji Su at the Piano, Gu Zhao could see no one, and could hear nothing beyond the sound of the instrument.

It was as though he were still trapped in that lightless underground room.

The piano and the solo dance fit together seamlessly; the final note vanished from his fingertips, and for several seconds no one in the audience had yet come back to themselves.

Ji Su rose from the Piano and, together with Han Meng, bowed toward the audience to take their curtain.

The audience woke as from a dream, and the great hall rang with applause that would not fade.

Ji Su retreated backstage, exhaled softly, and said to Han Meng: "That was hard work."

"Senior worked hard too." Han Meng looked at him with bright, shining eyes. "Today on stage, Senior and I fit together perfectly, didn't we?"

Ji Su nodded: "Yes — you danced even better than in rehearsal."

"To earn Senior's praise in person — I suppose that's complete for me." Han Meng drew a deep breath, as if she had made some kind of decision. "Senior, I have something very important I want to say to you."

Ji Su answered: "Go ahead."

Han Meng gestured to him: "Senior, please come with me."

At this moment everyone was gathered inside the great hall, so the exit area was quite still.

"Senior, first I want to confess something to you." Han Meng came to a stop, her tone frank. "Actually, I deliberately used this collaborative stage as an opportunity to get close to you."

Ji Su was a little bewildered: "What do you mean?"

"Senior probably doesn't remember, but we've actually met before." Han Meng curved her brows and smiled at him. "Last year, on the new-student registration day, my period came and I accidentally stained my trousers. When Senior saw, you lent me your jacket."

Ji Su thought back carefully — yes, it did seem there had been such an incident.

"For Senior it was probably just a small, ordinary gesture — it's completely normal not to remember." Han Meng paused briefly, her tone suddenly very serious. "What I want to say is: I've liked Senior for a long time. If Senior doesn't have someone he likes, would you consider me?"

Ji Su lowered his gaze and replied softly: "I'm sorry."

Han Meng sighed: "That quick a refusal, Senior?"

Only then did Ji Su realize that this time his rejection had perhaps been too clean and decisive.

"As far as I know Senior is still single, so..." Han Meng probed: "Is there someone Senior likes?"

Ji Su paused slightly. Someone he liked?

He was silent for a moment, and without answering directly, only said: "I'm sorry — you'll meet someone more worthy."

Han Meng asked: "I'm a little curious — is Senior like this with every pursuer, not giving even a sliver of chance?"

Ji Su gave a small nod: "Yes."

Han Meng's gaze fell, as if by chance, on a certain spot: "Then what about Senior Gu Zhao?"

Ji Su's heart gave a sudden lurch; he answered instinctively: "It has nothing to do with him."

"Senior Gu Zhao likes Senior — I think anyone with eyes can see that." Han Meng pressed: "If Senior doesn't like him, why do you let him stay by your side all the time?"

"I..." Ji Su was momentarily at a loss for words; in his tangled mind something seemed to flash past, too fast for him to catch.

"Ji Su." Just then, a low, magnetic voice sounded from behind him.

Ji Su gave a start; turning his head, he collided with those dark, fathomless eyes.

Gu Zhao walked toward him, raised an arm to clasp his shoulder, and drew him into his embrace.

It was a posture brimming with declaration — a fierce possessiveness that seemed ready to spill out at any moment.

"What I wanted to say, I've said it all — so I won't disturb Senior any longer." Han Meng gave Ji Su a playful wink. "Everything Senior said to me, I've remembered it all."

Ji Su felt only that the large hand gripping his shoulder tightened for an instant, then quickly eased its force.

Gu Zhao watched Han Meng walk into the great hall with a gaze cold enough to pierce bone; he lowered his arm and turned to leave first.

Ji Su hurried after him; the two walked one ahead of the other, neither speaking.

Until Ji Su suddenly walked straight into a wall of a person, let out a small sound, and barely steadied himself.

Gu Zhao turned around, his gaze heavy: "Is there anything you want to say to me?"

Ji Su hesitated, then asked in a small voice: "What do you want to know?"

Gu Zhao stepped closer to him: "You knew perfectly well how much it bothered me, and yet you still met her alone."

"It's not..." Ji Su knit his brows. "It's not what you think."

Gu Zhao fixed his stare on Ji Su's eyes: "Then what is it?"

Ji Su let out a light sigh and explained patiently: "Han Meng just confessed to me, but I refused her."

Gu Zhao: "And then?"

"And then nothing." Ji Su was a little helpless. "You think everyone's like you?"

Saying things like, no matter how many times he's refused — ten or a hundred — he won't give up...

Gu Zhao continued closing the distance between them: "What about me?"

Ji Su retreated involuntarily; after a few steps, his foot suddenly found empty air.

Gu Zhao, quick as a flash, caught his waist and pulled him back.

Ji Su collided into the familiar embrace; the cool, woody fragrance lingered at the tip of his nose, and his heartbeat quickened beyond his control.

He instinctively tried to break free, only to discover that the chest pressed against his held a heartbeat even more violent than his own.

Gu Zhao pressed him firmly against his own heart: "I don't want to be like this either, but I'm afraid."

Ji Su was like a paused frame — he stopped struggling.

Afraid?

Gu Zhao tightened both arms, his voice rough: "There are so many people coveting you — I'm afraid that if I let my attention slip for a moment, you'll be snatched away by someone else."

He was like a vicious dog with a meaty bone clamped in its jaws — starving, yet unable to swallow it in one bite, and constantly having to guard against other dogs coming to snatch it away.

If anyone tried to take it from him, he would bite them all to death.

"It's not like that..." Ji Su buried his face in the solid chest, his voice muffled and indistinct. "I'm not that easy to..."

Gu Zhao dug the person out of his embrace, cupping his face in both hands: "What did you say?"

Ji Su's face was very red, his eyes misty with moisture, his voice softer than soft: "Gu Zhao, give me a little more time, won't you?"