Luo Jingshu’s features were exquisitely refined, each individual part flawless, and when combined, they created a harmony that was nothing short of perfect.
When he cried, there was an extra layer of pitiful vulnerability that others couldn’t replicate.
Perhaps it stemmed from learning at an early age—when he was not yet strong enough—to use his appearance as a tool for survival.
Thus, Luo Jingshu knew better than anyone how to cry beautifully, and his expressions were as expertly managed as those of a professional actor.
Even now, he wasn’t trying to elicit sympathy from Xiao Cheng with his appearance. Yet, instinctively, he still presented the most appealing version of himself.
His tear-filled eyes shimmered like glass, the lighter hue of his irises seeming almost transparent. They glowed with a clean, pure innocence, while the tears clinging to his lashes sparkled like crushed stars.
It wasn’t surprising that Xiao Cheng, like anyone else, had struggled to see through him. Faced with such a Luo Jingshu, who would believe he was someone with deep, hidden schemes?
Xiao Cheng’s fingers exerted gentle pressure, rubbing away the tears clinging to Luo Jingshu’s reddened eyelids. Under the motion, his already flushed skin grew more vibrant, suffused with a damp, alluring hue.
“Stop crying.”
Luo Jingshu wasn’t sobbing uncontrollably; he simply stared at Xiao Cheng, his tears silently streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t form words, his heavy breaths hinting at the storm of emotions swirling inside him.
Despite looking utterly heartbroken, the way he cradled Xiao Cheng in his arms was tender, almost reverent.
He offered Xiao Cheng a soft, warm embrace.
The marks on Xiao Cheng’s wrist from Luo Jingshu’s earlier desperate grip had reddened slightly. Seeing this, Luo Jingshu carefully took Xiao Cheng’s hand into his own, rubbing it gently as though trying to erase the discomfort.
Xiao Cheng began to pull away again, but his resistance was even weaker this time. Noticing Luo Jingshu’s unwillingness to let go, he eventually stopped struggling.
The position between them carried a charged intimacy.
Luo Jingshu clasped Xiao Cheng’s wrist with one hand and encircled his waist with the other, holding him in a forceful yet unthreatening embrace. Then, he pinned Xiao Cheng against the wardrobe door.
Xiao Cheng’s restrained hand rested in Luo Jingshu’s palm, while his free hand hovered near Luo Jingshu’s face, his fingertips damp with the man’s tears.
Neither spoke, the silence between them punctuated only by the sound of their mingled breaths. The charged atmosphere was so tangible it seemed to heat the air around them.
The tension lingered until Xiao Cheng broke it with a low question. “Feeling better?”
Luo Jingshu’s emotions had visibly stabilized; he seemed to have accepted the truth about Xiao Cheng’s past sacrifice. At last, he managed to respond.
“Yeah.”
Xiao Cheng withdrew his hand, planting it against Luo Jingshu’s shoulder to push him away slightly. “Then let go.”
Before releasing Xiao Cheng’s wrist, Luo Jingshu’s thumb brushed over the soft skin on the inside, feeling the subtle recoil of his arm. Only then did he reluctantly let go.
“Brother Cheng,” Luo Jingshu studied Xiao Cheng’s face, both their expressions pale, though his own was the more disheveled.
“No matter what happens in the future, you have to protect yourself first.”
Luo Jingshu would rather die alone than let Xiao Cheng accompany him into the abyss.
“You think I don’t know that?” Xiao Cheng shot him a sidelong glance. “I told you—let the past go.”
This was precisely why Xiao Cheng had hesitated to reveal the truth to Luo Jingshu. Once he knew, who could predict how he’d react?
But Luo Jingshu didn’t move back; he kept Xiao Cheng trapped between himself and the wardrobe.
“I’m not joking,” he said, locking eyes with Xiao Cheng. “You’re more important than my life.”
“No matter what, you have to live well.”
Xiao Cheng turned his head away, avoiding Luo Jingshu’s gaze, but in doing so, he exposed the side of his neck and jaw.
He could feel Luo Jingshu’s heated breaths brushing against his skin, sparking a tingling sensation.
“I…” Xiao Cheng started to retort, it’s my choice, not yours, but the words died in his throat as he noticed the tears threatening to spill from Luo Jingshu’s eyes again.
For all his aggressiveness, Luo Jingshu looked more pitiful than the one being cornered.
Xiao Cheng sighed and offered a begrudging concession.
“Fine, I get it.”
He deadpanned, “Next time, even if you drop dead in front of me, I won’t lift a finger, okay? I’ll just let you turn to ashes, then go find a younger, prettier puppy…”
Before he could finish the sentence, Luo Jingshu suddenly leaned forward. His soft lips brushed against Xiao Cheng’s neck, tickling and leaving Xiao Cheng frozen in shock.
Luo Jingshu’s sharp teeth pressed lightly against the sensitive skin, not too hard, but enough to cause a faint sting—a mix of pain and an electrifying vulnerability that sent a shiver down Xiao Cheng’s spine.
Caught off guard, Xiao Cheng immediately grabbed Luo Jingshu’s shoulders and shoved, “Let go!”
What was with him acting like a dog all of a sudden?
Who bites someone on the neck out of nowhere?
But Luo Jingshu licked the faint teeth marks he’d left, his tongue brushing lightly against Xiao Cheng’s flushed skin.
It had been so long since he’d been this close to Xiao Cheng. Just breathing in his scent set Luo Jingshu’s blood on fire.
He had wanted to do this for a long time—mark Brother Cheng’s neck as his. Even more, he wanted to tell everyone that Xiao Cheng already had a boyfriend.
Although, that wasn’t quite the case yet.
In that case, he’d settle for telling everyone that Xiao Cheng already had a dog.
Luo Jingshu breathed deeply, burying his head in Xiao Cheng’s neck. Just like a puppy, he nuzzled and sniffed, his hair brushing against Xiao Cheng’s face, tickling him so much he wanted to punch him twice.
“Luo Jingshu!” Xiao Cheng reached out, grabbed Luo Jingshu’s hair at the back of his head, and tugged hard, forcing him to lift his head.
“Don’t push your luck.”
Luo Jingshu had a heightened sensitivity to pain compared to most people, but when he realized the pain came from Xiao Cheng, the discomfort transformed into a strange pleasure.
Meeting Xiao Cheng’s barely restrained gaze, Luo Jingshu stuck out his tongue and licked his lips. “Sorry, Brother Cheng, I lost control a bit.”
He could feel it clearly—Xiao Cheng loved him.
All the confusion and grievances from their previous life dissolved with Xiao Cheng’s earlier words.
Luo Jingshu was tormented by Xiao Cheng’s sacrifices; he wanted Xiao Cheng to live well.
But at the same time, those sacrifices proved without a doubt that Xiao Cheng truly loved him.
Luo Jingshu’s heart pounded rapidly. Half-forcefully, he grabbed Xiao Cheng’s hand and placed it on his own face. His still-reddened eyes blinked. “Brother Cheng, you just admitted it. You like young and pretty people.”
Xiao Cheng had casually said those words earlier, never imagining they’d provoke Luo Jingshu this much. This man was utterly unreasonable when riled up, pouncing on him like a predator.
Xiao Cheng curled his fingers, pinching Luo Jingshu’s cheek and squeezing it hard.
Luo Jingshu lowered his gaze to him, his eyes bright and focused. “Brother Cheng, what are you pinching me for?”
“To see how thick-skinned you are,” Xiao Cheng replied expressionlessly. “How can anyone be so fond of complimenting themselves?”
The scene felt oddly familiar.
Luo Jingshu froze for a second before chuckling softly. “So, you admit that when you said ‘young and pretty,’ you were talking about me?”
Xiao Cheng’s expression stiffened. In matters of flirtation, he was forever no match for Luo Jingshu.
Xiao Cheng stopped responding and simply observed Luo Jingshu’s expression, his gaze trailing from the sharp line of his jaw down to his Adam’s apple.
Under his scrutiny, Luo Jingshu’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he took a deep breath. His voice was hoarse, “Brother Cheng…”
“Don’t speak.” Xiao Cheng was weighing his options.
Grabbing Luo Jingshu’s collar, he tugged.
Luo Jingshu’s loose neckline easily gave way, revealing a graceful neck stretch. Under the light, the pale skin gleamed with a soft sheen, accentuating its beauty.
Luo Jingshu’s shoulder-to-neck proportions were flawless. The muscles beneath his skin were firm yet supple, emanating an understated strength.
Xiao Cheng stared for a few seconds, feeling slightly envious. No wonder this guy could pin him down so easily.
This person only looked slim. Beneath his clothes, his body was impressively toned, with well-defined chest and abdominal muscles. No wonder his strength was so overpowering.
Luo Jingshu cooperated fully. Though he couldn’t predict Xiao Cheng’s intentions, he didn’t resist. He even let go of his grip on Xiao Cheng, adopting a completely defenseless posture.
Using his elbow to press against Luo Jingshu’s shoulder, Xiao Cheng hooked his foot and, within two seconds, flipped their positions.
Xiao Cheng didn’t want to admit it, but deep down, he knew this reversal only succeeded because Luo Jingshu allowed it.
If Luo Jingshu hadn’t been cooperative, it would have been nearly impossible for Xiao Cheng to subdue him.
During past disputes, Xiao Cheng was always overpowered and rendered immobile. Luo Jingshu wasn’t just strong; he was also skilled at finding ways to completely incapacitate someone.
“Brother Cheng.” Luo Jingshu locked his gaze on Xiao Cheng’s face, his eyes never leaving him. His words were tinged with a breathy, teasing laugh. “What do you want to do?”
Xiao Cheng gritted his teeth. He couldn’t let Luo Jingshu keep this smug attitude.
It was also his own fault for being bad at masking his emotions. Luo Jingshu easily saw through his softened resolve.
“None of your business.”
Luo Jingshu smirked but didn’t say anything further.
Xiao Cheng’s gaze lingered on the curve of Luo Jingshu’s neck for a moment before he tiptoed slightly closer.
How had this guy grown taller? When they first met, he wasn’t this tall.
Xiao Cheng leaned in, inhaling at the crook of Luo Jingshu’s neck. This person was like a little girl, carrying a pleasant, sweet scent.
It was hard to describe, but it had a fruity sweetness—grape-like.
Now that he thought about it, Luo Jingshu did seem to like grapes. Not only did he smell like them, but his clothes were also often embroidered with grape motifs. He even wore a grape-shaped brooch once.
Luo Jingshu lowered his eyes, observing Xiao Cheng’s movements. The muscles in his face subtly tightened, his expression turning unusually serious, and his whole body stiffened visibly.
If Xiao Cheng were to lift his shirt, he’d find Luo Jingshu’s body tense as a bowstring.
Xiao Cheng opened his mouth tentatively, choosing a spot on Luo Jingshu’s neck and biting down hard.
Uncertain about the appropriate pressure, he could tell he’d bitten firmly enough for Luo Jingshu to let out a muffled sound—probably from the pain.
But despite that, Luo Jingshu didn’t flinch. Instead, he consciously relaxed his shoulders and neck muscles, as if afraid Xiao Cheng might hurt his teeth.
Xiao Cheng tasted blood in his mouth and realized he had bitten down too hard.
Letting go, he saw a deep bite mark. The sharp parts of his teeth had broken the skin, and blood was slowly oozing out.
A faint regret rose in Xiao Cheng’s heart, but it quickly turned into a sense of satisfaction from exacting revenge.
Serves Luo Jingshu right for being so obnoxious.
Absolutely shameless.
“Does it hurt?”
He didn’t bother wiping away the blood from Luo Jingshu’s neck, simply admiring the deep bite mark as though it were a masterpiece.
Luo Jingshu wouldn’t dare think this was Xiao Cheng showing concern. Brother Cheng probably didn’t even want to see him pretending to be tough.
Taking a sharp breath, Luo Jingshu reached out to wipe the blood from his neck with his fingers, his tone half-complaining, half-coquettish. “It hurts.”
He had mastered the art of playing the victim in front of Xiao Cheng. This tactic came so naturally to him that he didn’t feel embarrassed at all.
Sure enough, when Xiao Cheng heard his complaint, he didn’t feel guilty. Instead, he smiled. “Good. Pain will teach you a lesson. Without it, you’d never remember.”
Xiao Cheng punched him lightly on the shoulder, a clear warning in his tone. “Don’t touch me again.”
“Or next time, it won’t just be a bite.”
Luo Jingshu’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and a small, unexpected sense of anticipation stirred within him. He wanted to test what would happen if he did touch Xiao Cheng again. How would Brother Cheng teach him a lesson then?
But Luo Jingshu only entertained the thought. He had always known how to gauge Xiao Cheng’s limits, carefully treading the line without overstepping.
It was fine to occasionally steal a kiss when Brother Cheng was in a good mood, but he knew better than to push too far.
A full meal once in a while was better than starving all the time—that much Luo Jingshu understood.
“Alright, look for the thing,” Xiao Cheng said, nudging Luo Jingshu’s shoulder to indicate he should move aside.
Luo Jingshu pulled a tissue out of his pocket and wiped the blood from his neck. “I’ll listen to Brother Cheng.”
Xiao Cheng let out a noncommittal hum. “You’re obedient now, but did you remember what I just told you?”
“I remembered.” Luo Jingshu answered quickly, but a second later, he countered, “Did Brother Cheng remember what I just said?”
Xiao Cheng reached out to open the wardrobe door without sparing him a glance, ignoring the question.
Luo Jingshu didn’t mind the lack of response and chuckled softly, a sound that sent an inexplicable chill down Xiao Cheng’s spine.
“If Brother Cheng dares not take care of himself again…”
He deliberately left the sentence unfinished, leaving Xiao Cheng to fill in the blanks.
Xiao Cheng suddenly felt uneasy. He didn’t want to admit that Luo Jingshu’s words had gotten to him, but he couldn’t deny the faint jolt they caused.
Something told him not to test those waters.
“Are you threatening me?” Xiao Cheng forced himself to maintain a calm and serious expression.
“If you want to see it that way, then yes, it’s a threat.” Luo Jingshu took in Xiao Cheng’s reaction with satisfaction. “Next time Brother Cheng gets hurt for someone else, I’ll tie you up…”
Xiao Cheng had a hunch that whatever came next wouldn’t be good, so he hurriedly interrupted. “You talk too much.”
He couldn’t fathom how Luo Jingshu could say such outrageous things with a straight face. Even though they were alone, under the bright daylight, didn’t he feel even a bit of shame?
Or did he think that as long as it was just the two of them, he could say whatever he pleased?
Deep down, Xiao Cheng knew he wasn’t some pure-hearted boy. When he and Luo Jingshu had been dating, they’d tried intimate things before.
They’d also exchanged plenty of private, intimate words.
But at the time, Xiao Cheng had thought Luo Jingshu was innocent. Since Luo Jingshu hadn’t yet turned 18, Xiao Cheng was careful not to say anything too explicit, fearing he’d corrupt the young man.
It turned out he’d been far too conservative.
“Brother Cheng knows the truth.”
Luo Jingshu chuckled, a sound laden with meaning.
He swallowed the rest of his unfinished sentence and instead asked, “Is there anything in the wardrobe?”
“A safe,” Xiao Cheng replied, secretly relieved. He didn’t want to discuss such topics with Luo Jingshu now.
For one, their current relationship wasn’t suitable for it. For another, they were alone and face-to-face. Xiao Cheng feared he might lose his composure and embarrass himself in front of Luo Jingshu.
Pushing aside those unwholesome thoughts, Xiao Cheng opened the hidden safe. “The last plane ticket was in here.”
There was also that photo.
Everything was still inside.
Xiao Cheng took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. Then, in front of Luo Jingshu, he entered his birthday as the code.
Luo Jingshu silently watched. When Xiao Cheng entered that familiar string of numbers, Luo Jingshu’s breathing grew slightly heavier. He leaned in closer, intently watching Xiao Cheng’s movements.
Hidden beneath his hair, Xiao Cheng’s ears were slightly red. He hoped Luo Jingshu hadn’t noticed and decisively opened the safe in one swift motion.
Sure enough, the photo and the plane ticket were still inside.
Xiao Cheng took the items out and handed them to Luo Jingshu. “That’s all there is.”
Last time, he had already searched the apartment briefly. Other than these items, he hadn’t found anything else useful.
Xiao Cheng still didn’t fully understand why the necklace and the safe had followed him back through rebirth.
If it was something related to this apartment, it didn’t make sense, as the two of them hadn’t died here in their previous lives.
Luo Jingshu silently flipped through the photo and the plane ticket. Just from these two items, he could feel the emotions Xiao Cheng must have experienced at that moment.
Luo Jingshu could almost picture it: what kind of feelings did Xiao Cheng have when he took his photo to Rome?
When Xiao Cheng stood with his back to the Trevi Fountain, tossing a coin into the water, had he ever thought that one day he might return with the real Luo Jingshu by his side?
“Brother Cheng, I’ve really missed out on so much.” Luo Jingshu traced the plane ticket in his hand, his lips moving as if to speak, but no words came out.
He wanted to ask Xiao Cheng, if there was a chance, could they go back again?
This time, he would hold Xiao Cheng’s hand tightly and stand side by side in front of the Trevi Fountain, making a wish with all his heart.
Xiao Cheng glanced at him, as if he also had something to say, but in the end, he swallowed his words.
If Luo Jingshu knew that, perhaps in their past lives, they might have been able to be together but missed the chance—would he regret his decision to take his own life?
But it was already in the past. Xiao Cheng didn’t want to add unnecessary burdens to their minds, nor did he want to use that to make Luo Jingshu feel remorse.
If Luo Jingshu had truly loved him in their past lives, he wouldn’t have been so resolute in ending his life.
Maybe there wasn’t a question of “missed opportunities” in their past lives at all. Even if that half-year of speculation had been true, Luo Jingshu might not have agreed to his confession when the time came.
Xiao Cheng had always been pragmatic. He rarely dwelled on past regrets, knowing that no amount of remorse could change what was already done.
The future was what mattered most.
Even if they had truly missed each other in their past lives, that was a story for another lifetime. The two of them had been reduced to ashes in the fire. Even if they could go back, those regrets couldn’t be mended.
Xiao Cheng lowered his gaze and took the photo and plane ticket back from Luo Jingshu’s hands. “Do you have any guesses?”
Luo Jingshu, still caught up in his turbulent emotions, took a deep breath at the question, trying to suppress the chaos in his heart.
He felt as though he had grasped something important, but it was difficult to deduce more from the necklace and the safe alone.
Perhaps Xiao Cheng’s rebirth was connected to this apartment—but what about his own rebirth?
Suddenly, a critical detail occurred to Luo Jingshu. He asked Xiao Cheng, “When did you reborn?”
Xiao Cheng looked at him. “Early September.”
A whole month earlier than him.
Luo Jingshu’s expression turned serious. “I had just been reborn when you saw me by the pool.”
Xiao Cheng had never asked this before. Hearing it now, he couldn’t help but be surprised.
The things that hadn’t made sense before suddenly clicked into place.
No wonder Luo Jingshu had been soaking wet when he saw him as he’d just been fished out of the water.
Xiao Cheng had previously been puzzled by Luo Jingshu’s tolerance. Why would he let Luo Yuan push him into the pool like that?
Now he understood. Luo Jingshu must have just been reborn and hadn’t even processed it yet.
Realizing this, Xiao Cheng couldn’t help but smirk. Was it bad luck, or just fate, that he’d stumbled upon a freshly reborn Luo Jingshu?
This man, having died in a fire and then reborn, was at his darkest, full of malice toward the world.
No wonder, after just a brief encounter and barely a few words exchanged, Luo Jingshu had already decided to toy with his feelings.
Luo Jingshu also snapped out of his thoughts.
In their past life, Xiao Cheng had died saving him, yet in this one, Luo Jingshu had harbored ill intent toward him from the very beginning.
It wasn’t that Xiao Cheng was unlucky—it was that Luo Jingshu was too cruel.
“Brother Cheng, do you hate me?”
The more he learned about the truth of their past life, the more Luo Jingshu regretted it.
He suddenly felt panicked, afraid that Xiao Cheng, knowing what had happened in their previous lives, might regret ever loving someone as cold-hearted as him.
Would Brother Cheng think he wasn’t worth his affection?
The more Luo Jingshu thought about it, the more anxious he became, to the point where even breathing felt difficult.
Xiao Cheng turned and immediately noticed something was off. Luo Jingshu seemed trapped in his own mind, his bloodshot eyes fixed intently on Xiao Cheng, like a starving wolf eyeing its prey.
Xiao Cheng felt an inexplicable chill run down his spine. No matter how many times he saw it, he could never get used to that look in Luo Jingshu’s eyes.
“Luo Jingshu.” Xiao Cheng smacked him lightly on the head. Luo Jingshu didn’t dodge, just stared at him.
Even the most obedient dog has its moments of rebellion.
No matter how loyal the dog, it would grow restless and anxious when denied its owner’s love, losing its patience in its desperation.
Luo Jingshu, especially, feared that Xiao Cheng would abandon him or stop loving him.
All his motivation to live stemmed from Xiao Cheng. Apart from this man, Luo Jingshu had no attachment to the world.
Xiao Cheng thought for a moment before speaking softly. “Do you think you’re not worth hating?”
“Always so insincere, basking in attention the moment you’re given some.”
“You never listen to your master.”
Luo Jingshu gritted his teeth as if trying to endure something.
But by the end, his eyes lit up. He grabbed Xiao Cheng’s hand, his voice trembling with excitement he couldn’t hide. “Brother Cheng, does that mean you’re admitting I’m your puppy?”
Xiao Cheng expressionlessly pushed his hand away.
“I was making an analogy.”
He cleared his throat lightly. “Disobedient puppies are unloved.”
“I’ll be obedient!”
As soon as Xiao Cheng finished speaking, Luo Jingshu interrupted eagerly.
“I’ll listen to everything you say.”
“Brother Cheng, everything you say goes.”
He was trapped by Xiao Cheng’s love, and he was never able to escape.
Not that he wanted to.
Xiao Cheng averted his gaze. “We’ll see.”
“You’ll have to show me your sincerity first.”
