Does Jing Zhengxuan like him?
Before this, Huai Xu had never even considered the possibility.
He thought Jing Zhengxuan was straight, just like him.
He thought they were just childhood friends who were closer than most.
Huai Xu couldn’t believe it.
How could Jing Zhengxuan possibly like men? How could he possibly like him?
He frantically scrolled through the comments, wishing he could read every single one of the hundreds of thousands of replies.
There had to be another explanation, he thought firmly.
Sure enough, the blogger raised the same doubts he had:
[Could it just be that he thinks the photo looks good?]
[Best friends can use each other’s pictures as wallpapers and lock screens, right?]
These two replies had hundreds of thousands of likes.
Huai Xu was thrilled.
See? See?!
He wasn’t the only one who thought this way—so many people agreed with the blogger’s perspective!
The corners of Huai Xu’s lips curled up smugly as he continued searching for like-minded voices. But as he kept reading, his smile gradually faded, his lips drooping into a shape they had never taken before.
[I used to think the same way… until he kissed me in secret…]
[A real straight guy wouldn’t have a solo photo of his friend in his phone.]
[An ugly photo, maybe, but never set as a wallpaper.]
[If he’s not secretly in love with you, then he’s openly in love—either way, he’s definitely in love.]
Huai Xu: “……”
That couldn’t be that absolute, right? There had to be exceptions.
Giving up on finding excuses in the comments, he switched to the blogger’s profile and saw their latest video, captioned:
[Holy shit, he confessed…]
Beneath it were countless comments like [Congrats!] and [I knew it!]
Huai Xu: “……”
His breath hitched, his heart pounded violently, and his face burned.
Did… Jing Zhengxuan… actually… like… him?!
Was that why he used Huai Xu’s photo as his wallpaper?
Was that why he offered to… help him with his hand?
Was that why…?
Huai Xu remembered the scene outside the infirmary, when Jing Zhengxuan had gripped his shoulders and said, “If you want to date someone, date me.”
At the time, Huai Xu had thought Jing Zhengxuan was joking and had even scolded him.
But now, looking back… had Jing Zhengxuan been testing the waters under the guise of a joke?
If that were the case… when had Jing Zhengxuan started liking him?
Huai Xu wished this was all just a misunderstanding.
First, he wasn’t into men.
Second, he wasn’t into men!
Third, he WASN’T into men!!!
How could their close friendship turn into this? What were they supposed to do now?
He didn’t want them to become the most familiar strangers.
He still wanted to attend Jing Zhengxuan’s wedding someday.
Huai Xu clutched his chest, assuming his racing heart and burning face were due to shock. His mind was filled with thoughts of what to do next.
First, he absolutely couldn’t let Jing Zhengxuan help him anymore.
If he knew Jing Zhengxuan might have feelings for him and still allowed him to do that, he’d be a complete scumbag.
Huai Xu wasn’t the type to take advantage of someone’s feelings.
Second, he really, really needed to put some distance between them.
If he wanted to remain friends with Jing Zhengxuan, he couldn’t give him the wrong signals—that would be even worse.
Huai Xu hated ambiguous relationships.
The thought of creating distance made his heart slow its frantic pace, but it still ached, as if a bitter sensation had spread through him, leaving him feeling crumpled.
See? He truly cherished Jing Zhengxuan as a friend—so much so that the mere thought of distancing himself made him miserable.
Would Jing Zhengxuan feel even worse?
Huai Xu rolled over, his gaze landing on the agarwood bracelet Jing Zhengxuan had given him. The beads glowed softly under the light. He took it off and rolled it between his fingers.
A few minutes later, he cursed himself for being an idiot.
How could he conclude that Jing Zhengxuan liked him just based on some comments and a wallpaper photo? That was way too hasty!
And it was a huge disservice to all the kindness Jing Zhengxuan had shown him over the years. After so much time together, how could he not even trust their friendship?!
He was way too dismissive of their bond!
Huai Xu decided to forget about this whole idea, forget about that video. Unless Jing Zhengxuan personally told him, he would dismiss all these baseless speculations!
But… maintaining some distance was still necessary.
Huai Xu locked his bedroom door and texted Jing Zhengxuan:
[Don’t come over tonight. I have something to take care of.]
[Jing Zhengxuan]: What is it?
[☀]: Personal stuff. Don’t worry about it.
[☀]: I locked the door, so really don’t come.
[Jing Zhengxuan]: ……
[Jing Zhengxuan]: So you don’t need help today?
[☀]: ……
[☀]: I don’t need it ever again.
After sending the last message, he turned on Do Not Disturb, set his phone aside, turned off the lights, and drowned himself in darkness.
Lying in bed, Huai Xu stared at the ceiling in the dark.
Everything was silent—so silent that he could hear his own heartbeat, thump, thump, thump, steady but faster than usual, accompanied by an odd, sour, crumpled feeling.
Why was he so agitated?
And why did he feel so upset?
Hadn’t he already made up his mind?
Huai Xu pressed a hand to his chest and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart, but it didn’t help.
Maybe it was a blood pressure issue. Just as he was about to get up and find some candy, someone knocked on his door. His mother’s voice came through:
“A-Xu, are you asleep?”
“No.” Huai Xu was surprised but still got up and walked to the door. “What’s up, Mom?”
At the doorway, Huai Mo looked at him with concern. Before she could speak, Jing Zhengxuan suddenly appeared behind her, politely saying, “Thank you, Auntie Mo.”
Then, his eyes swept over Huai Xu, the panic and worry in them slowly fading—but his gaze kept darting around Huai Xu’s room, as if searching for some hidden danger.
Huai Xu glanced at his mother. The frown on Huai Mo’s forehead had smoothed out, replaced with mild reproach. “You two should talk things out properly. Don’t just cut ties over nothing. You’re almost twenty—why are you still acting like this?”
Huai Xu: “?”
His eyes widened. “I didn’t—”
“You said you don’t need me anymore…” Jing Zhengxuan abruptly cut in, his voice trembling, his eyes red, looking utterly wronged—as if he were on the verge of tears.
Huai Xu: “?”
What kind of interpretation was that?!
Was that what he meant?!
Before he could explain, Huai Mo’s reproachful look deepened. She sighed. “Look at you, A-Xu. Communicate properly with Zhengxuan.”
Huai Xu choked back his words, glancing at the “pitiful” guy beside his mother, and nodded. “Got it, Mom. You go rest.”
Once Huai Mo left, Huai Xu stepped out, intending to close the door—but Jing Zhengxuan pushed it open, pulled him back inside, and locked the door with a click. His eyes swept the room before landing on Huai Xu’s phone.
“‘Don’t need me anymore’?” He effortlessly lifted Huai Xu, unceremoniously tossing him onto the bed, then knelt over him, pinning him down with one hand on his jaw. His voice was a mix of grievance and anger.
Huai Xu was completely stunned. What was Jing Zhengxuan doing?!
Lying on the bed, staring up at the other boy, he struggled in panic, trying to break free—but Jing Zhengxuan held him down effortlessly, with just enough force to keep him trapped without hurting him.
During the struggle, Huai Xu’s knee bumped against Jing Zhengxuan’s thigh, and his heart skipped a beat. What were those muscles made of?!
No wonder he couldn’t break free.
“Jing Zhengxuan, let me go!” When physical strength failed, Huai Xu resorted to verbal attacks.
But Jing Zhengxuan ignored him, still gripping his jaw, his red-rimmed eyes burning with intensity. “Did you watch that ‘kitten’ video again?”
He emphasized the word kitten deliberately.
Huai Xu’s face flushed instantly, his tone turning defensive. “N-no! Now get off me!”
He tried to knee Jing Zhengxuan away, but his legs barely moved—instead, he felt the scorching heat of Jing Zhengxuan’s body.
Huai Xu immediately flattened his legs against the bed.
Jing Zhengxuan… was so hot it scared him.
His legs pressed tightly into the mattress, as if trying to sink into it.
He shook his head, trying to free his jaw, not wanting Jing Zhengxuan to see his embarrassment—and not daring to meet those intense, sticky eyes.
But Jing Zhengxuan’s grip was unyielding. No matter how hard Huai Xu struggled, he couldn’t break free.
Huai Xu’s face burned, his eyes reddening at the corners, his dark irises shimmering with unshed emotion—unaware of how tempting he looked.
Jing Zhengxuan stared, mesmerized, his cold amber eyes igniting with countless soft yet scorching flames, licking over Huai Xu’s face and body, leaving trails of heat in their wake.
Unconsciously, Jing Zhengxuan tightened his grip, forcing Huai Xu’s lips to part slightly, revealing neat white teeth and a soft, pink tongue.
Huai Xu’s neck flushed red with embarrassment. His pajama collar had loosened during the struggle, exposing his delicate collarbones, their contours enticing under the dim light.
Above them, his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously.
Jing Zhengxuan stared, transfixed, his own throat moving as he licked his lips.
Huai Xu felt like a lamb being prepared for slaughter—but not with fear of death. Instead, it was a mix of trepidation and anticipation, shame intertwined with an inexplicable sweetness that replaced the earlier bitterness, as if his heart had been wrapped in sugar.
The strange sensation made him even more flustered. He cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension. “Jing Zhengxuan, you’re hurting me.”
His voice was soft, his eyes bright—darting to Jing Zhengxuan’s face before quickly looking away, giving off a shy, timid vibe.
Jing Zhengxuan snapped out of it, releasing Huai Xu’s jaw. He shifted, lying down beside him instead, grabbing Huai Xu’s hands and whining, “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”
Huai Xu tried to calm his pounding heart and turned to face his childhood friend. “Of course not. You’re overthinking it.”
Then he froze.
A single tear slid from Jing Zhengxuan’s eye, trailing down his temple and disappearing into the sheets.
Huai Xu’s lips parted slightly.
He’d… made his best friend cry?!
In all the years he’d known him, Jing Zhengxuan rarely cried. No matter how badly he was hurt, he’d only say it hurt, maybe frown a little.
The only times he’d shed tears were back in kindergarten and early elementary school, when their friendship was still new and Huai Xu occasionally didn’t want to play with him. Back then, little Jing Zhengxuan would cry—not loudly, but softly, pitifully.
Little Huai Xu would relent, coaxing him while promising they’d always be best friends, and only then would Jing Zhengxuan smile again.
Now, seeing that single tear, Huai Xu’s heart softened completely.
How could he make Jing Zhengxuan cry? He was such a jerk.
Huai Xu reached out, wiping the tear away with a gentle smile. “How could I ever not want you?”
Jing Zhengxuan pressed Huai Xu’s palm against his cheek, his amber eyes fixed on him, serious and intense. “No matter what?”
Huai Xu turned onto his side, his free hand brushing through Jing Zhengxuan’s hair. His voice was tender yet resigned. “No matter what, I’ll never not want you.”
Jing Zhengxuan smiled. “Then… can I sleep with you tonight?”
Huai Xu: “……”
Thinking back to his earlier resolution, he hesitated.
He’d just decided to create distance—and to never let Jing Zhengxuan help him again. Was he really going to backtrack so soon?
As he hesitated, Jing Zhengxuan’s eyes welled up again, as if tears could fall any second. His voice turned pleading. “Can’t I?”
“You can, you can,” Huai Xu immediately relented. “Go take a shower. Your pajamas are still in the same place.”
Jing Zhengxuan left for the bathroom. Huai Xu left a small lamp on, then lay in bed with his eyes closed, trying to rationalize his actions.
Rules were rigid, but people were flexible.
Even if he’d decided to create distance, exceptions could be made, right?
People were emotional creatures. They needed time to adjust—wasn’t that reasonable?
Sure, when he thought Jing Zhengxuan was dating someone, he’d wanted a clean break—but Jing Zhengxuan wasn’t him. Maybe what he needed was a gradual transition.
The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. As long as he held firm on the final boundary—not letting Jing Zhengxuan help him—he could take a roundabout approach. That way, he wouldn’t hurt his friend and could achieve his goal. Win-win, right?
Soon, Jing Zhengxuan returned from the shower. Hearing his footsteps, Huai Xu considered pretending to be asleep—afraid Jing Zhengxuan might bring up helping him again. Better to avoid an awkward refusal.
Normally, lying in bed for a while would make him drowsy, but tonight, for some reason, he was wide awake.
He didn’t dwell on it, assuming it was just the shock of the night’s events keeping him alert.
Eyes still closed, he listened to Jing Zhengxuan’s approaching footsteps, the sound of the sheets rustling as he got into bed, the faint friction of fabric against skin.
The night was so quiet—every sound was amplified.
Not just sound. With his eyes closed, his other senses sharpened.
He could smell the clean, refreshing scent of Jing Zhengxuan’s shower gel—white tea, crisp and cool, perfectly matching Jing Zhengxuan’s icy demeanor.
He could feel Jing Zhengxuan’s body heat, the warmth gradually moving closer—until an arm draped lightly over his chest.
Jing Zhengxuan’s breath tickled his ear, warm and damp, carrying the faint scent of aftershave.
Huai Xu’s fingers curled into the sheets, trying to distract himself from the sensation.
Then, he felt Jing Zhengxuan brush a strand of hair from his forehead. A few soft swallows followed before Jing Zhengxuan’s thumb began tracing his lower lip—sometimes firm, sometimes gentle, as if hesitating.
Huai Xu didn’t dare move, his whole body stiffening, fists clenched tight.
What was Jing Zhengxuan doing?!
Before he could figure it out, more swallows sounded by his ear, the warmth drawing nearer—until the thumb on his lips disappeared.
Huai Xu mentally sighed in relief.
But before he could relax completely—
Soft, warm lips pressed against his.
Light as a butterfly’s touch, yet lingering for several seconds before pulling away.
Huai Xu: “!?”
His mind exploded.
He kept his eyes shut, but his pupils darted wildly beneath his lids, his long lashes trembling violently. His heartbeat drowned out all other sound, pounding so hard it felt like it might leap from his chest!
How could those few seconds feel so long?!
Huai Xu panicked. Should he keep pretending to sleep? Or sit up like a zombie and demand an explanation?!
In the end, he did neither—instead, he pinched himself.
Ouch!
Not a dream!
Fuck!
Before he could strategize further, Jing Zhengxuan turned off the lamp, wrapped an arm around him in the dark, buried his face in Huai Xu’s neck, and inhaled deeply before murmuring:
“Goodnight, baby.”
Huai Xu: “……”
Fuck fuck fuck!!!
Baby my ass!!!
The next day was December 31st.
In previous years, Huai Xu always spent New Year’s Eve with Jing Zhengxuan.
But this time… he didn’t even know how to face him, let alone celebrate together.
If your best friend kisses you in your sleep… what else could it mean besides liking you?
Huai Xu might be inexperienced in romance, but even he knew friends didn’t kiss each other—not even a peck, let alone one that lasted several seconds!
Several seconds!
Were those just ordinary seconds?
In one second, 4,000 stars could be born.
In one second, the human body could undergo 100,000 chemical reactions.
In one second, light could travel 300,000 kilometers in a vacuum!
Huai Xu was certain that in those few seconds Jing Zhengxuan kissed him, his body had undergone earth-shattering changes—after all, that was billions of chemical reactions!
He barely slept that night. The next morning, when Jing Zhengxuan got up, Huai Xu woke too—but he kept pretending to sleep.
Once Jing Zhengxuan left, Huai Xu immediately packed his things.
Soon, a diamond-wrapped GranTurismo pulled up to the side gate of Huai Xu’s house—a spot invisible from Jing Zhengxuan’s windows.
A message popped up on his phone. Huai Xu grabbed his luggage, said goodbye to his mother, and left.
Around noon, Jing Zhengxuan came looking for him. Huai Mo was surprised. “Huh? You didn’t go with him? He said he was spending New Year’s Eve with friends.”
Jing Zhengxuan paled. “Friends? Did he say who?”
“No. I thought you were going together.” Huai Mo grew worried. “You didn’t know?”
Jing Zhengxuan steadied himself, not wanting to alarm her further, and forced a smile. “Right, right—he did mention it. I forgot. Do you know what time he left?”
Huai Mo studied him, relieved when he seemed calmer. She glanced at the clock. “Ages ago—around 8 a.m. Should I call him?”
Jing Zhengxuan waved a hand. “No need, Auntie. I’ll head out.”
8 a.m.—right after he had left.
Meaning Huai Xu had bolted the moment he was gone.
He was avoiding him.
That was the one thing Jing Zhengxuan couldn’t accept.
Why was Huai Xu avoiding him?
Hadn’t he just promised last night not to abandon him?
How could he ditch him the very next day?!
Four hours was enough for a car to travel hundreds of kilometers—let alone a plane or train.
Back in his room, Jing Zhengxuan’s hands shook so badly he could barely hold his phone. He tried calling Huai Xu.
No answer.
He called several more times—same result. Either Huai Xu had ditched his phone, or he’d already blocked him.
Why had Huai Xu’s attitude changed so abruptly?
Jing Zhengxuan paced frantically, then tried messaging Huai Xu on WeChat.
No reply.
What the hell was going on?!
Why would Huai Xu leave without a word?!
They’d promised to spend New Year’s Eve together—how could Huai Xu just…
…abandon him like this?
“Zhengxuan, dinner’s ready,” Xi Qing called, then gasped. “What’s wrong? You’re pale as a ghost!”
Jing Zhengxuan looked at her blankly, murmuring, “Mom… A-Xu is… gone.”
Then he slumped forward.
At 193 cm tall with a powerful build, he should have been imposing—but now, he looked like a fragile porcelain vase, ready to shatter at the slightest touch.
Xi Qing’s heart ached. “I’m sure he’s fine. Don’t panic. What happened?”
Jing Zhengxuan sighed, fingers digging into his hair, and recounted the events weakly.
Xi Qing listened, then patted his back. “It’s okay. Not a big deal. Didn’t you two have location sharing set up on your phones?”
Jing Zhengxuan’s head snapped up. “Right! Right! The location!”
To keep Huai Xu safe, they’d shared their phone locations since childhood. No matter how many times they changed phones, the habit remained.
“How could I forget?” Jing Zhengxuan muttered, opening the tracking app.
Xi Qing watched her son’s disheveled state and sighed softly, squeezing his shoulder.
The next second, Jing Zhengxuan collapsed to the floor, his eyes bloodshot, his head hanging low.
Just as Xi Qing was about to scold him (“If you’re this rattled over something so small, how will you ever take care of Huai Xu?”), Jing Zhengxuan suddenly stood up and made a call. When he looked up again, his usual cold arrogance had returned.
“Uncle Zhang, find out where Huai Xu is right now. As fast as possible.”
He hung up. Xi Qing frowned. “The location’s gone?”
Jing Zhengxuan’s shoulders slumped. “He didn’t take his phone.”
Xi Qing was about to comfort him when his phone rang. He answered immediately, voice hopeful yet urgent:
“Uncle Zhang, you found him already?”
But the voice on the other end wasn’t Uncle Zhang’s—it was soft and clear, like the notes of a guqin:
“A-Xuan, it’s me. Don’t worry, and don’t look for me. I just need some time alone to figure things out. I’ll come back once I do.”
After a pause, Huai Xu added, “I didn’t abandon you. Really.”
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