Zhu Lianzhen felt a little carsick.
His stomach wasn’t upset yet, but his head had started to ache more and more during the ride. Once home, he collapsed straight onto the bed without even the energy to change into sleepwear.
“I feel terrible. So annoying.” He draped an arm over his forehead, his whole body filled with discomfort. The only thought in his mind was that he wanted to fall asleep as quickly as possible.
Soon after, someone gently moved his arm away, and something cool was placed against his forehead.
“What is that?” Zhu Lianzhen asked, feeling a slightly moist touch moving in circles on his skin.
“A peppermint stick,” Tan Qing replied, continuing to apply it to his temples.
The cooling sensation was strong, but it actually helped relieve the headache. Zhu Lianzhen began to feel a bit better. He opened his eyes and asked, “You use this often?”
Tan Qing said, “Found it at your place.” After a brief pause, he added, “You picked it up randomly at the London airport duty-free shop last time to get reward points.”
Zhu Lianzhen ran a mental search through the keywords to barely piece the memory together. That “last time” had to be at least three years ago. One day, he’d suddenly wanted to see an opera, and they had somehow carved out a weekend to fly to London.
He was about to complain that the peppermint stick might be expired, but before the words came out, he changed course and said, “You remember way too clearly.”
Such a trivial thing, and yet not only did Tan Qing remember it, he even knew exactly where it was kept in Zhu Lianzhen’s home… Was it just a habit from when they used to live together?
“Isn’t it normal to remember small things sometimes? I’m sure you have some too.” Tan Qing capped the stick. “Do you remember little things about me?”
Zhu Lianzhen felt it was a sensitive question, even though the tone had been casual.
“Yeah, I do,” he blurted out, though he hadn’t actually thought of a specific example yet. He stalled, mumbling, “Like, there was one time…”
His gaze happened to land on Tan Qing’s wrist, and he did manage to recall something. “I guess it counts as a small thing. Once, you were drinking water, but the cup was of poor quality. So when you poured hot water into it, it cracked and exploded on your hand.”
He unhurriedly described the scene from memory. “I saw blood dripping onto the floor. It scared the hell out of me, but you acted like nothing happened.”
“Mm. And then you helped bandage it up.”
“Since then, I haven’t used a glass cup for hot water again. I’m always afraid it’ll explode,” Zhu Lianzhen said softly.
The reason he remembered that incident might have been because, at the time… he’d had a ridiculous thought. Even though it had only been a fleeting impulse, thinking about it now still made his face warm.
“I’m heading out. Get some rest.” Tan Qing stepped away from the bedside. Just as his hand reached toward the lamp, Zhu Lianzhen suddenly stopped him. “You don’t have to leave, do you?”
Tan Qing paused, letting the light stay on. He turned back to look at the person in bed. “You want me to stay the night?”
“Huh? Why do you look so serious? I didn’t mean anything by it. Y-you’re already here; don’t you want to sleep? I also have a new projector at home…” Zhu Lianzhen was rambling, still a bit drunk. Words spilled out before he could control them.
“Then I’ll crash here tonight. Thank you,” Tan Qing said. “Want me to grab your pajamas?”
“No, no need.”
Tan Qing brought them over anyway. He knew exactly which shelf to open in the closet. Zhu Lianzhen quickly changed and slid under the covers. Before he could say “Goodnight,” Tan Qing leaned in close, stopping just inches from his face. Under the light, he carefully examined Zhu Lianzhen’s eyes and reminded him, “You forgot to take out your contacts.”
“…Oops.” He had worn dark-colored contacts for the performance that day, which looked quite natural.
Once the little things were handled, Zhu Lianzhen hung his head, caught in his own troubled thoughts. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he didn’t say something now, while the alcohol was still in his system, he’d lose the courage by morning.
“Wait.”
Tan Qing stopped when he heard the voice and turned his head. He saw Zhu Lianzhen’s figure bathed half in light, half in shadow, his expression indistinct.
Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t think through anything too complicated right now, and when it came to talking in circles, he was no match for Tan Qing. So he didn’t hesitate and asked bluntly, “What are we now?”
Tan Qing’s gaze shifted away, no longer focused on him.
After a brief silence, he sat back down on the edge of the bed, bringing their eyes level. “Are you asking about our relationship, or something else?”
Zhu Lianzhen was momentarily confused, then slowly said, “Are you… feeling guilty too? You always answer questions with more questions, and I end up going in circles with you.”
It sounded like frustration he’d been holding in for a long time, voiced with a mix of innocence, helplessness, and drunken honesty.
In contrast, Tan Qing’s expression was unreadable, and his voice remained calm. “If you look at me like that, it’s impossible not to feel guilty.”
“How about we take turns asking and answering?” Zhu Lianzhen suggested, then cautiously decided the order. “You go first.”
Tan Qing didn’t overthink it. He asked directly, “Isn’t it good the way things are now?”
“It’s not about good or bad. Don’t you find it awkward? I don’t even know what I’m allowed to do with you…” Zhu Lianzhen had once believed that keeping things the way they were would be fine. But once the world around him quieted down, his mind wouldn’t stop wandering.
Just like that night at the beach, he had thought the silence would dissolve that secret kiss, brushing it off as a moment of impulse.
But that had only been an excuse. What he’d called “impulse” was really his way of admitting he was the one who crossed the line first, so that he could justify whatever irrational thing might come next.
Could it be that what he truly wanted was to get used to making mistakes, and then… just go with it? Keep indulging Tan Qing?
Once he realized that, Zhu Lianzhen started to feel unfamiliar with himself. Like a door left slightly ajar—not truly open, but never fully closed to anyone in particular.
“You can do whatever you want with me, can’t you? Do you really need to consider my opinion?” Tan Qing looked at him with lowered eyes. “You’re not actually this polite deep down, are you?”
That got Zhu Lianzhen’s attention. He shot him a haughty look. “Why are you acting like you know me so well? You think you can guess everything I’m thinking?”
Tan Qing’s expression remained calm as he leaned in closer. “Right now, do you want to kiss me?”
The sudden directness sobered Zhu Lianzhen instantly. He froze for a few seconds before managing to squeeze out a word. “Huh?”
“Do you want me to kiss you?” Tan Qing repeated, just as calmly.
In that moment, Zhu Lianzhen fully grasped how indecent Tan Qing could be—he always picked the exact moment when Zhu Lianzhen was completely unguarded to throw him into situations he couldn’t handle.
“Why are you saying that out of nowhere… Hey!” Zhu Lianzhen reached out to stop him, but it was too late. Tan Qing’s fingers were already pressed against his chest, clearly feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat through the thin fabric.
Since he couldn’t hide it, Zhu Lianzhen simply admitted defeat. “You’re so annoying.”
So what if he knew his heart was racing? It could just be a physiological reaction to being startled.
“Then let me give you another option.” Tan Qing moved his hand from Zhu Lianzhen’s chest and gently pressed against his Adam’s apple this time. “Xiao Zhu, if you kiss me now, we’ll keep things as they are. But if you clearly say you hate me, I’ll go back to acting normal tomorrow.”
“Oh, so you do know you’ve been acting weird. Damn it!” Zhu Lianzhen had nearly run out of comebacks, but now at least he knew Tan Qing had some self-awareness. “I’m not answering some dumb question like that. What kind of choice is that?”
Tan Qing’s thumb subtly increased the pressure on his Adam’s apple. Zhu Lianzhen immediately felt like he couldn’t speak. His breathing was still normal, and it didn’t hurt, but his whole body tensed up. His eyes locked onto Tan Qing’s instinctively.
“Can you tell me which one you’d choose?” Tan Qing loosened his fingers and asked gently.
Zhu Lianzhen picked up the implied meaning: kiss him, or say he hated him. Was it worse to knowingly cross a line, or to lie about how you really felt?
He furrowed his brow, seriously wanting to crack open Tan Qing’s head and see how it was wired. How was it that every difficult question he asked always hit the mark so precisely?
“Are you trying to piss me off on purpose? It’s exactly because you keep doing stuff like this that you’re so annoying, you know that?” Zhu Lianzhen grabbed Tan Qing by the collar, his gaze sharp as he impatiently ordered, “Fine, if you’re gonna kiss me, then just do it already! Hurry up—I still need to sleep after this!”
Tan Qing didn’t move. Their faces were already close enough that their breaths mingled, but he didn’t do a thing.
Am I the one who has to start it? Why does it have to be this complicated!
Driven by sheer defiance, Zhu Lianzhen stared him down for a long moment, then grumbled, “T-turn off the light first.”
Tan Qing complied and gave him darkness.
Zhu Lianzhen reached up and touched the underside of Tan Qing’s jaw, then slid his hand back until it reached his neck. He pressed down slightly, gauging the distance between them by the warmth of their breath.
He tilted his head up a little, but just as he was about to brush Tan Qing’s lips, the other man turned his face slightly, avoiding the touch.
Zhu Lianzhen’s face flushed hot, a wave of heat rising as if he were trapped in something he couldn’t escape. Ignoring it all, he leaned in a little further and probably just managed to graze the corner of Tan Qing’s mouth.
That level of contact definitely didn’t count as a kiss. Zhu Lianzhen decided it was good enough and quickly let go of his grip.
But Tan Qing didn’t move away. Instead, he lowered his head and brushed lightly against Zhu Lianzhen’s lips, a faint tickle grazing the corners of their mouths, the peaks of their lips.
He did it again and again, pulling back each time before it could become anything more.
Zhu Lianzhen felt his head heat up from being teased, unable to bear this kind of slow pace. Just as he tilted his head up to finally end it with one decisive kiss, Tan Qing backed away a second too soon.
Failed.
Zhu Lianzhen couldn’t quite describe what he felt in that moment—confusion, dissatisfaction, a fluttering heart, and a twinge of disappointment.
Whatever restraint or hesitation he’d had dissolved in that instant. In the dark, he grabbed Tan Qing by the collar and yanked him down, his voice tinged with frustration and embarrassment. “Kiss me.”
It might not have been his original intention, but Tan Qing had stirred up a desire in him, making him crave a real kiss.
Tan Qing lowered his head and easily pried open his teeth. He quickly realized that Zhu Lianzhen was venting his emotions—his movements were rough and clumsy. Tan Qing couldn’t tell if he was expressing anger or just trying to cover up something deeper.
He only stroked Zhu Lianzhen’s hair gently, helping him relax, then slowly guided the rhythm.
The burning heat of their breaths filled the narrow space between them in a seamless, intimate sync. Tan Qing didn’t need to be forceful—he was simply skilled at probing Zhu Lianzhen’s limits, luring him into the dangerous edge without him even noticing.
By the time Zhu Lianzhen came to his senses, their breathing was completely in sync. If they didn’t stop, he genuinely didn’t know how long the kiss would last.
Zhu Lianzhen gave Tan Qing’s shoulder a firm, but not rough, squeeze. The other man finally let him go, allowing him to catch his breath.
In the darkness, he heard Tan Qing repeat the question in his ear unhurriedly, “Isn’t this good enough? We’re at the age where we don’t need to feel guilty about doing bad things.”
Zhu Lianzhen finally understood what he meant.
They didn’t need to repeat past mistakes, but they had fallen into a new kind of loop. There was no clear beginning to this relationship, and naturally, no defined end.
The kind of irresponsibility that most people should avoid at all costs had, for them, become a perfectly fitting form of self-deception.
Zhu Lianzhen’s Adam’s apple bobbed. After a long pause, he finally forced out a reply. “When I wake up tomorrow, I’ll pretend I don’t remember anything.”
Tan Qing asked, “Blaming it on a drunken blackout?”
“Mm.” Very firmly.
Tan Qing responded with an “Okay,” smiled, tucked him in, and got up to leave the room.
As soon as Tan Qing left, Zhu Lianzhen immediately turned onto his side and curled up. So much for taking turns asking questions—he’d completely forgotten about that. Oh well. He got Tan Qing’s answer anyway. He didn’t have the energy to think about anything else.
So, was he at ease now?
Zhu Lianzhen did feel a bit relieved. But why? Was it because he didn’t actually care whether their relationship was “weird,” but feared that Tan Qing might be the one who did?
For over twenty years, he had done his best to avoid hesitation or compromise for anyone. He always prioritized his own feelings and managed every relationship around that. Only when it came to Tan Qing did he begin to falter.
In the end… in the end, he was just afraid that his willfulness would end up hurting the other person. This was probably the first time in his life that he had carefully considered someone else’s feelings. He didn’t know if Tan Qing had picked up on that.
Definitely not! Zhu Lianzhen gritted his teeth in the dark. He remembered once asking Tan Qing what his first impression of him had been and the answer had actually been, “Kind of dumb.”
He really should’ve snapped back with, “And you think you’re so smart?”
I don’t hate you. If I truly hated you, how could I have tolerated you to this extent? Such a simple truth, and yet that person had gone in circles trying to confirm it with him for the past six months.
If you asked him, Tan Qing was clearly the dumber one.
