RKNDL chapter 29

Although Wen Yun said there were ingredients in the fridge, Xie Zhinan was skeptical.

From the moment he stepped into this house, it had felt empty, devoid of any signs of life or homey warmth. It didn’t seem like a place where meals were cooked.

To his surprise, Wen Yun’s fridge actually held fresh ingredients: crisp vegetables, ripe fruits, and premium cuts of meat—all neatly organized.

Xie Zhinan’s stunned expression was hard to miss, and Wen Yun immediately picked up on it.

Leaning lazily against the wall, Wen Yun observed him with indifference. His voice, softened by the pear soup, no longer sounded as hoarse as before. “You seem surprised.”

Xie Zhinan hesitated for two seconds before saying, “You…”

“Me?”

Countless thoughts flashed through Xie Zhinan’s mind.

Wen Yun had always been extremely territorial, even more so than him. While he had carved out a cozy little space for himself to live in solitude, Wen Yun treated his home as an inviolable domain.

Visitors were an intrusion he rejected outright.

Back in high school, Wen Yun rented a place near the campus and refused to even hire a housekeeper. Meals were delivered, and he only used the house to sleep. It stayed clean with minimal effort on his part.

Could it be that Wen Yun had started cooking for himself?

Then again, maybe he had hired help.

After all these years, Wen Yun’s principles… might have changed.

Perhaps it wasn’t worth delving into.

“…It’s nothing.” Xie Zhinan glanced at the fridge and shifted the topic. “How about a light soup?”

Wen Yun, however, kept looking at him. “You seem doubtful about my ability to cook.”

He hadn’t wanted to probe, but since Wen Yun brought it up, Xie Zhinan hesitated for a moment before replying, “Yes, I didn’t expect it.”

Under the light, Wen Yun’s dark eyes resembled glass marbles, cold and unmoving, as he stared at Xie Zhinan. “Oh.”

Again with the “oh.” Why did he like saying that so much?

Xie Zhinan didn’t understand his meaning, so he glanced at him but stayed silent, focusing instead on figuring out what dishes he could make with the ingredients in the fridge.

“Why not keep asking?” Wen Yun said.

“Keep asking… about what?”

“Ask me why I started learning to cook.”

“…Fine,” Xie Zhinan replied meekly. “Why did you start learning to cook?”

“No reason.”

Xie Zhinan: “.”

“…Oh,” Xie Zhinan replied.

Wen Yun found his reaction amusing. The corners of his lips curved into the faintest smile as he said, “Soup works. After all, I’m not picky like some people.”

Xie Zhinan felt like he’d been indirectly insulted.

But being the softhearted type he was, he held it in for a while before finally responding with a slightly firmer, “Oh!”

The final result was a pot of soft rice, a plate of stir-fried greens, a small bowl of steamed eggs, and a large serving of corn, yam, and pork rib soup.

Xie Zhinan’s cooking skills weren’t particularly good or practiced. It took him ages to finish the meal, fumbling around the whole time. Wen Yun offered to help during the process, but Xie Zhinan adamantly refused.

Wen Yun had no choice but to sit on the sofa and rest, occasionally turning to watch his busy figure.

In this cold, lifeless space, the rare bustle brought warmth and tranquility.

When Xie Zhinan served the food at the dining table, only two eggs were left in the fridge. The steamed egg dish was small, so Xie Zhinan intentionally placed it in front of Wen Yun. Wen Yun picked up a spoon and immediately scooped half into Xie Zhinan’s empty bowl.

“Hey!” Xie Zhinan clutched his bowl and tried to pull away, but it was too late. The silky, tender steamed egg had already been placed into his bowl.

He glared at Wen Yun, his tone unusually flustered. “That was made especially for you!”

Wen Yun calmly placed a bite of greens into his mouth and replied, “Mm, thank you.”

Xie Zhinan said, “You should eat more nutritious food since you’re sick!”

Wen Yun replied, “Mm, I’m eating.”

Xie Zhinan: “.”

Wen Yun suddenly smiled.

Xie Zhinan froze. “What… What are you smiling about?”

Wen Yun raised his head from the bowl, the smile still lingering in his eyes. A bit of light reflected off his dark pupils, and he said, “I just think that when two people are pushing away good intentions meant for each other, it feels kind of…”

He stopped there, not continuing, only offering Xie Zhinan a faint smile and saying, “Never mind.”

The smile seemed a bit intentional, as if he wanted Xie Zhinan to keep thinking, to guess what he was about to say, to ponder over his words.

But in truth, Xie Zhinan often couldn’t understand what Wen Yun was thinking.

Back in the past, Wen Yun had been very quiet, and Xie Zhinan wasn’t talkative either. There would be long periods of time when they didn’t contact each other at all.

Xie Zhinan was afraid that Wen Yun might find him annoying, so he didn’t dare to initiate conversation.

It was strange—so many years had passed, and back then, he never knew what Wen Yun was thinking. Now, he should know even less, right?

Yet at this moment, looking into Wen Yun’s eyes filled with warmth and a smile, Xie Zhinan suddenly understood what had remained unsaid.

This scene felt so warm.

Like… any couple that is in a good relationship, who can only lean on each other.

—It’s insane.

How could this be?

Xie Zhinan quickly lowered his head, pretending to be hungry as he ate quickly, trying to hide his suddenly racing heart.

Wen Yun glanced at his suddenly reddened ears but said nothing, quietly continuing to eat.

Sometimes, a little space for the prey to escape was necessary.

After finishing his meal, Wen Yun took his temperature. It was 38 degrees again—he had a fever.

Xie Zhinan muttered that Wen Yun should lie down and rest for a while.

This time, Wen Yun actually listened, but before heading to the bedroom, he fixed his gaze on Xie Zhinan and asked, “You’re not going to run off while I’m resting, right?”

Xie Zhinan had indeed planned to leave after washing the dishes, but wasn’t this already the time to go…?

Xie Zhinan was momentarily stuck, not speaking. He wasn’t very good at turning people down.

Especially not good at turning down Wen Yun.

Wen Yun looked at his expression, frozen. He didn’t say anything, just silently watched him.

Xie Zhinan’s throat tightened, and after a long pause, he didn’t manage to say the words “I’m leaving now.” Instead, he could only mumble an unclear “Mm,” and say, “…I won’t.”

Wen Yun got the reassurance he needed, and his heavy gaze on Xie Zhinan finally withdrew as he went back to his room to rest.

Xie Zhinan washed the dishes.

There weren’t many dishes, and not much to clean up, so he finished quickly.

He didn’t have many skills, but the one he was best at was avoiding problems.

He couldn’t bear to face Wen Yun’s disappointed or unhappy gaze, nor could he say he was leaving right away. At the same time, he couldn’t just stay forever, so he was caught in a dilemma.

So, he began looking for other things to do—wiping the table, cleaning the kitchen countertops, sorting the trash, making sure every kitchen tool was perfectly aligned…

Half an hour later, he really couldn’t find anything else to do.

After all, Wen Yun’s apartment was already clean and tidy enough.

When there was nothing left to escape to, Xie Zhinan was finally forced to emerge from his self-avoidance hole. He carefully, slowly made his way to the door of Wen Yun’s bedroom.

The bedroom door was slightly open. The sky had darkened, but not completely—it had turned a dim, thick shade of dark blue.

The room wasn’t lit. Xie Zhinan carefully pushed the door open.

Wen Yun’s curtains were half-drawn, and the faint, gloomy light from the outside filtered through, casting a soft glow on him.

He was lying sideways on the bed, facing the door, the blanket only covering his chest. His breathing was steady and even, looking as though he had already fallen asleep.

Xie Zhinan glanced at the bedside, where a water cup and several boxes of medicine were placed.

It seemed he had taken his medicine and fallen asleep.

Xie Zhinan stood at the door, watching him for a while. Then, silently and without a sound, he stepped inside, gently lifting the blanket and tucking it under Wen Yun’s neck, making sure it covered his shoulders tightly, before retracting his hand.

Just as he was pulling it back, he paused for a moment.

He wasn’t sure whether it was because of discomfort or if Wen Yun was dreaming of something unpleasant.

Wen Yun’s brow was tightly furrowed, and his pale lips were pressed tightly together, making him look quite unhappy.

How could he be unhappy even in his sleep? Xie Zhinan wondered.

It seemed that after meeting him, Wen Yun was always unhappy.

Perhaps the dim, blurry atmosphere had intensified the suppressed desires within him, the ones he had been holding back for so long.

Wen Yun was asleep, unaware of anything, unaware of him.

Xie Zhinan’s heartbeat quickened for a moment, reminding him of an afternoon many years ago when, in the classroom, he had wanted to secretly pick up the pen Wen Yun had dropped.

It seemed to be the same feeling as now.

But his courage was even smaller than it had been back then.

His hand hovered in the air for a long time but still didn’t come down. Instead, his fingertip gently traced Wen Yun’s furrowed brow.

Wen Yun had a prominent brow bone and a straight nose, but not in an overly sharp way like Western features—rather, it was well-balanced, a restrained and subtle bone structure.

Like a landscape painting.

Unfortunately, he had a pair of overly sharp eyes and a thin, delicate mouth.

That face gave him a distant and cold look.

…And now, he still seemed unhappy.

Xie Zhinan couldn’t help but wonder, what was he so unhappy about?

Taking advantage of the dim light as cover, he stared at Wen Yun for a long time, perhaps knowing that he might not get such an opportunity again—this chance to be in the same room with Wen Yun, watching him sleep peacefully.

He quietly, very secretly, peeked his head out of the cave he had closed off. The desires and emotions that he had swallowed deep inside finally started to silently seep out from his eyes, thread by thread, strand by strand.

Xie Zhinan’s facial features were soft, and he still looked young, even after so many years.

But Wen Yun was different. Perhaps it was because he had lost some weight, every line of his body was tight and sharp. He should have appeared more distant, but the long five years had left something heavy and oppressive on him.

He now seemed less cold than before.

Xie Zhinan was focused, his eyes fixed on Wen Yun’s face, almost imprinting every line of the 27-year-old Wen Yun in his mind.

He watched him for a long time, a very long time, until the light completely faded, the darkness slowly surrounding him like a tide, and his feet began to grow cold and numb.

Suddenly, Wen Yun’s breathing deepened. He seemed uncomfortable, and the body under the blanket moved slightly. The blanket, which had been covering his shoulder, shifted and let in a draft.

Xie Zhinan suddenly snapped back to reality, afraid of being caught again, and took two steps back.

But Wen Yun didn’t wake up.

Xie Zhinan exhaled quietly.

…It was time to go.

He swallowed, his throat inexplicably dry, and stepped forward again, raising his hand to fix the blanket for Wen Yun. Then he quietly reached for the cup of water and medicine box on the bedside table, intending to take them outside.

Just as he was about to turn around, a hot hand suddenly grabbed his wrist.

Xie Zhinan jumped in shock, his back tensing. He instinctively gripped the cup, but the medicine box fell to the floor.

He bent down to pick it up, but perhaps that movement was mistaken as an attempt to escape, and the force on his wrist suddenly tightened, pulling him backward.

Xie Zhinan stumbled and had no choice but to turn around.

Wen Yun had somehow woken up.

He half-opened his eyes, his dark pupils glimmering slightly as he stared at Xie Zhinan without blinking, an air of sickly obsession and depression in his gaze.

“Xie Zhinan.” His voice was hoarse, light but carrying a thick, melancholy tone.

“Where are you going again?” he asked.