RKNDL chapter 22

Wen Yun continued to look at him, but at least now it wasn’t from the condescending angle from before, where he peered down with lowered eyes, making Xie Zhinan’s heart tremble.

His gaze was calm and deep now, and Xie Zhinan felt as though he was completely enveloped within it, unable to escape.

The hospital room fell into silence. Wen Yun said nothing further, clearly waiting for a response.

But Xie Zhinan, feeling quite clueless in matters like this, thought hard for a long time and still couldn’t figure out what kind of answer would satisfy Wen Yun.

So, he decided to be straightforward.

“Then how should I repay you?” Xie Zhinan asked, feeling a bit foolish as he looked at Wen Yun.

“A question like that should come from your own heart, don’t you think?” Wen Yun retorted unceremoniously.

Xie Zhinan: “…”

True…

But what should he do to repay him?

He looked genuinely troubled, his face still flushed, his gaze unfocused, yet his brows furrowed in an effort to think.

This was supposed to be just a tease.

Wen Yun sighed silently as he saw Xie Zhinan genuinely struggling. He was about to say, “Forget it,” when he heard Xie Zhinan tentatively, cautiously, like a snail extending a tiny feeler:

“…Then, I’ll treat you to a meal?”

Out of options, Xie Zhinan resorted to the standard gesture.

If it had been anyone else, he might have said this right away. Though slow to pick up on social cues, Xie Zhinan wasn’t completely clueless. Treating someone to a meal was a basic survival skill in human society, one he’d definitely logged into his brain.

…But Wen Yun was different.

That was what made it so strange.

Xie Zhinan could behave normally with anyone else, but with Wen Yun, he simply couldn’t.

It had always been this way.

Suddenly, time rewound as if the surroundings were a river flowing rapidly backward. The hospital turned into an office, the office transformed into a university, reversing five years of absence and erasing the bitter-sweet uncertainties of a hidden crush. Then, with a resounding clang,

The clock chimed, and time froze.

The world returned to life—a lively high school between classes, the campus bustling with chatter and laughter. Young boys and girls played and joked, their laughter echoing through the air. But as the sounds faded around Xie Zhinan, he sat quietly at his desk, focusing on his exam papers, neither playing nor chatting, silently solving problems.

Occasionally, in fleeting moments, he would pause mid-sentence, his pen halting as his gaze involuntarily drifted toward someone in front of him. In that brief second, he would realize what he was doing, quickly retract his gaze, and bury his head back into his work, pretending nothing had happened.

Xie Zhinan had always maintained a dead calm in his emotions, keeping them like still water, helping him face the bumps in life without turbulence and endure each day as it came.

Perhaps it was this lack of emotional expression toward others that made falling for Wen Yun so overwhelming—like an uncontrollable wildfire, consuming him to ashes. Wen Yun’s slightest actions could effortlessly sway his feelings.

At first, Xie Zhinan found this terrifying and avoided Wen Yun for a time.

But to call it avoidance was misleading, as they hadn’t interacted much to begin with. In class, Xie Zhinan was quiet, nearly invisible, and whether he avoided Wen Yun or not hardly made a difference.

While Xie Zhinan spent sleepless nights tossing and turning, overthinking himself to exhaustion, it was likely that Wen Yun hadn’t even noticed him at all.

Xie Zhinan knew, but he still couldn’t help himself.

He had never experienced what normal emotions felt like, nor had anyone ever met his expectations. The only thing he could do was manage himself and control his emotions; that was the only way he felt secure.

That’s why liking someone—this uncontrollable emotion—filled him with fear and dread.

He tried his best to maintain his composure, never realizing that once liking someone arrived, it was—

A wildfire, uncontrollable and all-consuming.

Even deliberate avoidance only proved his fall.

It all began on a summer day, after school.

Xie Zhinan had a habit of staying at school a bit longer to finish his homework before heading home.

That day, it was rare that Wen Yun stayed behind as well. He sat in the front row. Xie Zhinan stared at the test paper in his hands, unable to write a single word.

Looking back now, he couldn’t even remember which subject the test was for.

All he could recall was that unusually soft sunset that afternoon. The orange-red light spilled through the window, landing precisely on Wen Yun’s desk and enveloping him.

Xie Zhinan tried his hardest to restrain himself, forcing himself not to look at him.

But…

It was such a rare moment.

A summer evening, a space dyed orange-red, with only the two of them present.

In that instant, an uncontrollable desire sprouted, like vines wildly growing in spring. It shattered all his strained self-control in moments. Xie Zhinan couldn’t think of anything, nor did he dare to.

He simply… simply raised his head quietly and glanced at Wen Yun, who was sitting in front of him.

Wen Yun was slightly lowering his head, focused on the textbook on his desk. One hand supported his face while the other twirled a pen in the fading sunlight. The pen spun gracefully, reflecting the light, bouncing off his long, pale fingers.

Xie Zhinan felt as though his heart had been hooked onto the tip of that pen, fluttering weightlessly, tossed and turned in Wen Yun’s fingers.

It was an unfamiliar experience—his heart pounding wildly, blood rushing to his head. A strange thrill coursed through his veins. He felt nervous, afraid, and full of yearning, as though he no longer belonged to himself.

He watched for a long time until Wen Yun moved.

Wen Yun withdrew his hand from the sunlight and began packing his desk. Xie Zhinan immediately lowered his head, his heart pounding so loudly that even his ears were ringing with the sound.

He dared not look. Gripping his pen, he pretended to work on his test paper, but all his attention was on Wen Yun.

Xie Zhinan heard the soft clatter of a pen falling, the closing of books, the scraping of a chair being pushed back, and the rustle of fabric.

Finally—

Footsteps approached him.

Xie Zhinan tightened his grip on his pen, his heartbeat growing louder and faster.

Terrified of being found out, he buried his head low, forcing himself to focus on the test in front of him.

But not a single word registered in his mind.

Xie Zhinan thought he felt Wen Yun pause for a moment as he passed, but before he could fully process it, Wen Yun’s footsteps resumed and faded away.

It wasn’t until five minutes later that Xie Zhinan dared to lift his head.

He exhaled deeply, his body finally relaxing, as if he had just come back to life.

Suddenly, his gaze fell on the floor beneath Wen Yun’s desk.

A black pen lay there.

It was the pen Wen Yun had been twirling moments ago.

Wen Yun had dropped it but hadn’t picked it up.

It seemed Wen Yun had forgotten about it.

Did that mean… meant that he could…?

Thud, thud…

His heart pounded louder, each beat striking his eardrums.

A fleeting thought crossed Xie Zhinan’s mind. His throat went dry, and he swallowed instinctively.

Feeling guilty, he glanced toward the back door of the classroom.

Wen Yun was gone. The classroom was empty.

Xie Zhinan blinked twice, then slowly stood up from his seat and walked to Wen Yun’s desk to pick up the forgotten pen.

He didn’t know why he was doing this, as if possessed.

He wanted to keep the pen.

But just as he turned, he collided head-on with Wen Yun, who had somehow returned without a sound. He had no idea how long Wen Yun had been standing there. Those dark eyes stared at him, void of any discernible emotion.

Caught red-handed, Xie Zhinan felt as though his heart might leap out of his throat. His legs went weak, and he nearly stumbled.

It was Wen Yun who caught his elbow and steadied him, preventing him from falling.

Xie Zhinan looked like a small animal cornered, his wide eyes brimming with soft, pitiful tears. His lips trembled, but he couldn’t utter a single word.

Wen Yun’s gaze darkened. His voice, clear and cool, asked, “Are you afraid of me?”

Xie Zhinan, acting on instinct, weakly shook his head. Then he extended the pen toward Wen Yun and lowered his gaze, staying silent.

At that moment, Wen Yun thought, He’s just like a rabbit caught by a wolf.

Trembling, fearful, utterly pitiful.

It made one… want to bully him.

Wen Yun lowered his gaze and looked at him but didn’t take the pen. Xie Zhinan continued to hold it out, his fear growing as Wen Yun didn’t respond. His grip tightened, his fingertips whitening as they trembled slightly.

Only then did Wen Yun finally raise his hand to take the pen. It didn’t come free immediately, as Xie Zhinan was gripping it too tightly.

It wasn’t until Wen Yun’s fingers accidentally brushed against Xie Zhinan’s that he reacted as if he’d been burned, swiftly pulling his hand back.

The moment he withdrew his hand, he wanted to turn and flee.

But Wen Yun caught him by the elbow, refusing to let him leave.

Xie Zhinan raised his head in confusion, his eyes wide as he looked at Wen Yun, unsure why he was being stopped. Had Wen Yun seen through his feelings?

Panic and anxiety flooded him, and even his eyelids turned faintly red, making it look as though he was about to cry.

Wen Yun finally moved, slowly placing the pen into the chest pocket of Xie Zhinan’s thin summer school uniform.

Xie Zhinan froze.

The thin fabric of his summer uniform allowed him to feel the pen brushing against his chest as it slid in, bringing a strange ticklish sensation that made his body tremble slightly.

The next second, he heard Wen Yun’s low, indifferent voice: “Don’t be afraid of me.”

A warm summer breeze blew in, rustling the light blue curtains. The scent of summer flowers carried by the wind brushed through Xie Zhinan’s heart.

In that moment, his heart pounded wildly, as if it were on the verge of exploding. All his defenses collapsed entirely.

Years later, lying on a hospital bed, Xie Zhinan realized he still didn’t know how to treat Wen Yun.

It was as if nothing had changed from ten years ago. Even though he kept telling himself to stay away, to control himself, he could never quite manage it.

He never knew what to do.

Getting closer didn’t feel right, but neither did staying distant. Leaving wasn’t an option, but neither was wanting him.

Wen Yun, just as he had been back then, lowered his eyes and asked, “Will you cook it yourself?”

Xie Zhinan hadn’t intended to, but once Wen Yun said it, he found himself unable to refuse.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He tried once more but still couldn’t say anything.

In the end, he buried half of his face in the blanket and murmured, “…Yes.”