Xie Quan had his head down, looking exhausted. At first, he didn’t even notice who was beside him. It wasn’t until Lu Nanyang let out a quiet cough that he reacted like a startled cat, quickly lifting his head.
Those light gray eyes met the gaze directed straight at him, the pitch-black pupils like a bottomless abyss that trapped him, leaving no escape.
The moment he saw Xie Quan, the knot in Lu Nanyang’s chest loosened a little. But the instant their eyes met, he suddenly didn’t know what to say.
Xie Quan took a step back and turned, as if to leave.
But it was too late—the elevator doors happened to open slowly right in front of them.
“I’m going up too,” Lu Nanyang said, stepping in first.
“…I’m going down,” Xie Quan replied.
“Then you go down first, and I’ll go up after.” Without waiting for any protest, Lu Nanyang stepped inside. “Waiting for the next one takes too long.”
“….” Xie Quan had no choice but to enter as well. He pressed the button for the B2 floor, then braced himself for the elevator to start moving.
He was far too exhausted—physically and emotionally. If he weren’t so close to breaking down, he would’ve realized immediately how flimsy that lie just now was.
B1 and B2 were just parking levels—and he didn’t even drive. Lu Nanyang knew that very well.
As the elevator doors slowly closed, the two of them stood side by side in the narrow space. You could even hear each other’s breathing.
Xie Quan wasn’t claustrophobic, but right now he felt a suffocating tightness in his chest.
He could smell a faint scent of tobacco coming from Lu Nanyang, mixed with his usual body warmth, gradually spreading in the confined air.
Lu Nanyang glanced at Xie Quan from the corner of his eye. If he had only suspected during the phone call, then Xie Quan’s obvious avoidance now confirmed it: he was definitely avoiding him.
That missed call earlier? Most likely intentional.
Awkwardness, it seemed, could be contagious. And unfortunately, this particular elevator was quite old—it took forever to close its doors and even longer to start moving, finally descending at a snail’s pace.
The memory of the night when Xie Quan was drunk surged through Lu Nanyang’s mind like a tide: his flushed cheeks, watery eyes, swollen lips, and warm, shallow breaths felt like they were right in front of him.
The very same person now standing beside him with a cold face, deliberately ignoring him, had narrowed his drowsy eyes that night, smiling alluringly as he said, “In your heart…”
…Goddamn.
Lu Nanyang felt like he was losing his mind. Even in such an inappropriate situation, he could feel a wicked heat surging downward into his abdomen.
As the elevator descended, it gave a slight jolt. Xie Quan’s hand swayed forward and brushed against Lu Nanyang’s forearm.
Such light contact happened nearly every day in normal life and usually wouldn’t mean anything.
But Xie Quan was clearly in a hypersensitive state. The moment his skin touched Lu Nanyang’s, he instantly pulled back.
However, Lu Nanyang reacted quickly, grabbing his hand before he could retreat.
His fingers were long and distinct, with a light sheen of sweat in his palm.
Both of them froze at that motion.
“I need to talk to you,” Lu Nanyang tightened his grip. “The Sixth Hospital—”
Before he could finish, the floor beneath them suddenly jolted violently, and an unexpected sensation of weightlessness struck.
The elevator malfunctioned?!
Lu Nanyang’s first instinct was to pull Xie Quan toward him. Xie Quan stumbled and fell into his arms.
Thankfully, the free-fall sensation lasted less than two seconds before stopping abruptly.
Xie Quan quickly reacted, pressing every floor button he could, but the elevator remained unresponsive.
From the feel of it, they were stuck somewhere between the first and second basement levels.
Xie Quan grabbed the elevator phone and held it to his ear—but there was only silence.
“Do you have a signal?” Xie Quan whipped around.
Lu Nanyang snapped out of it and pulled out his phone. “…No.”
Xie Quan checked his own—zero bars. And after a long day, his battery was nearly drained.
Even so, he dialed the emergency number, fire department, and the maintenance number posted inside—but none of the calls went through.
As he prepared to try again, his phone finally died, the screen going black.
“Fuck!” Xie Quan cursed, throwing his phone to the floor where the screen immediately cracked.
“Calm down—” Lu Nanyang bent to pick it up.
“How the hell am I supposed to calm down?!” Xie Quan spun around, yelling, “I was ten minutes away from going home, and now I’m stuck in this piece-of-shit elevator that could drop any second—with you! How do you expect me to stay calm?!”
Lu Nanyang didn’t respond immediately. The elevator fell silent except for the sound of Xie Quan’s heavy breathing.
“You hate me that much now?” Lu Nanyang asked. “You won’t even answer my call, and you don’t even want to be in the same elevator with me?”
“Yes!” Xie Quan shouted. “Why can’t you just disappear from this world?! You were the one who kicked me out! You deleted me on WeChat! So what the hell are you calling me for now?!”
Lu Nanyang paused. “I heard a patient escaped from the Sixth Hospital. I was worried, just in case…”
“You were afraid it was Xie Yuanqiang?” Xie Quan asked.
“…Yeah.”
Xie Quan let out a cold laugh. “So what? Even if it was him, what are you going to do? Help the cops catch him? Or come console me while I cry and sob?”
“I was just worried about you!” Lu Nanyang said irritably. “I know the chances are low, but low doesn’t mean nonexistent. The second I thought it might be him—”
“Worried about me?” Xie Quan laughed bitterly. “Now you say you’re worried? Then where was that concern when you kicked me out? When you deleted me?!”
“You know exactly what you did back then,” Lu Nanyang said coldly.
“What did I do?” Xie Quan suddenly raised his voice. “What—just because I fucked you? Are you made of gold? I can’t even touch you?!”
His voice was too loud, and as soon as the words left his mouth, he doubled over in a violent coughing fit.
Lu Nanyang instinctively reached out to support him, but Xie Quan slapped his hand away.
“Don’t touch me!” His eyes turned red. “Lu Nanyang, if you can’t give me what I want, then stop tormenting me like this, okay?!”
Lu Nanyang froze.
Xie Quan closed his eyes, slowly slid down against the elevator wall, and sat on the floor, burying his face in his arms.
The elevator was dim and cramped, deathly quiet, with only the flickering red light of the malfunction indicator pulsing in the silence.
Xie Quan couldn’t believe he’d actually said something so stupid.
What do I want?
This whole thing between them had always been a physical arrangement. What more could he possibly want?
What was there to want?
Lu Nanyang would probably laugh at him.
But it didn’t matter anymore.
At this point, Xie Quan knew better than ever: in this ridiculous, undefined tug-of-war, he had completely and utterly lost.
He had fallen first.
The silence stretched for a long time before Lu Nanyang finally spoke, his voice soft.
“What is it you want?”
Xie Quan didn’t answer.
“Xie Quan, don’t you think you’re being childish?” Lu Nanyang said.
“What?” Xie Quan snapped, lifting his head in irritation.
Lu Nanyang braced one arm against the elevator wall, effectively caging Xie Quan in, looking down at him from above.
“You won’t say what you want, you won’t ask whether I’m willing to give it, and then you just assume I can’t and resent me for it. Isn’t that childish?”
Xie Quan stared up at him, the light shifting in his pale gray eyes. “Lu Nanyang, do you really know what I’m talking about?”
“You never said anything—how would I know?” Lu Nanyang countered. “Did you ever once ask me what I thought?”
“And if I did, would you have agreed?”
“How would you know if you didn’t ask?” Lu Nanyang shot back. “Are you a three-year-old who needs someone to teach you how to open your mouth and talk?”
Xie Quan was momentarily speechless. He had a sharp tongue, but this was the first time someone had completely shut him down.
“From start to finish, it was always you interpreting things on your own—assuming what I thought and then dismissing everything on your own,” Lu Nanyang said, his forearm muscles tensing. “You think I got mad, kicked you out, and deleted you from WeChat because I got f*cked? It’s because from beginning to end, you never once asked me how I felt!”
“How did I not ask?” Xie Quan burst out in anger and slapped Lu Nanyang’s hand away. “I asked and you rejected me!”
“And then what?” Lu Nanyang immediately grabbed Xie Quan’s wrist, eyes sharp like a hawk’s. “Did you ask me why? Did you ever tell me what you were thinking?”
Xie Quan panted, locking eyes with Lu Nanyang. “And if I asked, would you have told me?”
“You won’t know unless you try,” Lu Nanyang said.
Xie Quan shut his eyes, and his breath, which had been erratic, slowly calmed.
“Why did you reject me back then?”
“Because I’m not used to developing such deep physical intimacy with a casual hookup,” Lu Nanyang said. “Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I’ve always thought that kind of thing should be reserved for someone I truly love.”
Xie Quan’s heart sank.
Wasn’t that exactly what he’d assumed? Lu Nanyang wanted to save going all the way for someone he loved—not him.
Xie Quan slowly stood up, turned his face away, and pushed Lu Nanyang’s arm aside, clearly not intending to continue this ridiculous conversation.
But Lu Nanyang didn’t let go. Instead, he gripped his wrist tightly—so tightly that no matter how Xie Quan struggled, he couldn’t break free.
“You must still have something you want to ask,” Lu Nanyang said.
“No!” Xie Quan glared at him. “Let go of me!”
Lu Nanyang’s grip tightened even more.
“Xie Quan, I’ll let go if you want,” he said slowly, “but I won’t hold on again after this. Is that what you want?”
From his fingertips, Lu Nanyang began to slowly release his grip. The pads of his fingers brushed softly across the back of Xie Quan’s hand like cloth against skin.
Just as his hand was about to let go, Xie Quan suddenly grabbed it back with force.
Lu Nanyang looked at him—Xie Quan’s lips were tightly pursed, his head bowed low, desperately trying to hide the wreckage of emotion on his face.
Lu Nanyang’s lips curved into a small smile.
….
This is too much.
Will it ever end?
Could he stop flashing that stupid puppy-like smile?
Could he stop giving him hope just when he’d already lost it all?
Could he stop smiling, stop touching him, stop speaking, stop breathing?
Stop making the mask he’d worn for years crack so pathetically.
Stop making him want to reach out to that warmth.
Stop making him believe again, after he’d long since stopped.
Stop making his frozen heart start beating again.
He would become a moth, dry kindling—burning, senseless, mad, and completely consumed by the flames.
……
Lu Nanyang’s warm hand gripped back firmly, hard enough to make Xie Quan’s knuckles ache.
In the narrow, sealed elevator, they were so close that if either of them moved just a little, they could kiss.
“Say it,” Lu Nanyang’s voice was warm and soft. “Tell me what you want, or I’ll never understand. This isn’t a competition. It’s not a power struggle. There’s no winning or losing—only wounds and mutual destruction.”
Xie Quan looked up at him. In those bright eyes, there was hope, sincerity, determination, and anxiety—but no mockery.
It was so quiet that he could hear not only his own pounding heart, but Lu Nanyang’s heartbeat too.
Fierce and steady, the heat of it pulsed into his body like a living current.
Xie Quan shut his eyes.
…Just this once.
Just this once, he’d believe.
His voice was hoarse. “Can’t I just… be your boyfriend?”
Lu Nanyang smiled, his entire body visibly relaxing.
“Of course you can,” he said.
