On the first day of summer vacation, Lu Nanyang was woken up by the sound of curtains being pulled and blinding sunlight.
His mind hadn’t fully returned yet. Groggily opening his eyes, he found Xie Quan’s enlarged face right in front of him.
Lu Nanyang almost kicked him.
“Fuck! What are you doing?!” Lu Nanyang jerked awake, bouncing upright from the bed.
“Look at the time — it’s already noon,” Xie Quan said, straightening up and pulling open the other half of the curtains. “If you sleep any longer, you’ll go into shock.”
The midday sunlight poured into the room without mercy, shining straight into Lu Nanyang’s eyes. He had to squint and raise his hand to block the light. Sitting there with a bird’s nest of messy hair under the blazing sun, it took him a long, dazed moment to reboot his language system.
“What does me sleeping until noon have to do with you?!” Lu Nanyang glared at him incredulously. “Am I using your blanket or your pillow or something?”
“Scientific studies show that sleeping late disrupts human circadian rhythms and negatively affects digestion and muscle function,” Xie Quan said blandly. “I’m thinking about your health.”
Xie Quan looked out the window. Lu Nanyang’s bedroom faced east, and the noon sunlight illuminated the room brightly. In the residential community’s greenbelt, bougainvillea plants were blooming, their pink and white colors covering the entire flower bed, gently swaying in the warm summer breeze. Under a nearby banyan tree sat an elderly man in a white undershirt, slowly fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan.
“Come on, letting me sleep a little longer would be better for my health!” Lu Nanyang couldn’t help yawning as he scratched his messy hair into an even bigger mess. “Aren’t you tired after the exams? Staying up all night and still getting up earlier than a rooster…”
As he complained, he lifted the blanket, ready to put on his pants, when suddenly he froze.
He noticed Xie Quan was looking at him with a faint, teasing smile, his cool voice tinged with amusement:
“Need a hand?”
“No need!” Lu Nanyang grabbed a pillow and threw it at Xie Quan. “Get out!”
Seriously, why was it that he couldn’t enter Xie Quan’s room, but Xie Quan could come and go from his as he pleased?!
Xie Quan chuckled as he retreated, thoughtfully closing the door behind him to leave Lu Nanyang a bit of privacy.
About ten minutes later, Lu Nanyang finally came out of his room, yawning as he walked over to the sink to wash up. Xie Quan casually glanced at his lower body — it was neat, no wrinkles.
During those ten minutes, had he lain back down for another nap, or…?
Previously, Lu Nanyang had helped him twice, but Xie Quan hadn’t really seen the arsenal. Once was in a dark hospital room, and the other time was blocked due to their positions.
So just now was the first time he had seen Lu Nanyang hard.
Xie Quan lightly bit his thumbnail, feeling a heat stir uncontrollably in his body.
The shape looked really nice—and it didn’t seem small either.
That night in the bathroom, when he was kneeling and looking up with those wet eyes, had he also gotten hard?
Xie Quan closed his eyes, forcing himself to suppress these stray impulses.
He hadn’t told Lu Nanyang that he’d started reducing his medication. The diminishing effects had left him sleepless through the nights, anxiety wrapping around him like thorny vines, stabbing into his skin and bones, making it hard to breathe.
The worst part was that whenever he fought the urge to reach for the pill bottle, that craving transformed into something else.
In the dark hospital room, Lu Nanyang’s sweat-slicked face would float before his eyes.
The rustling of the bedding, the sounds of breathing, the heat of his palm, the bulging veins on his arms—those had all somehow become part of Xie Quan’s addiction. Or maybe they were like a deadly antidote: drinking poison to quench his thirst.
“Xie Quan?”
The sudden voice startled him so badly that he almost bit his finger.
Lu Nanyang, his hair still wet, had a towel draped over his shoulder. Water dripped from the tips of his hair as he looked at Xie Quan with a puzzled expression.
“What are you daydreaming about in the middle of the living room? Didn’t sleep well last night? Also, seriously, that habit of yours—biting your fingers—is really bad. You know how much dirt is under your nails—”
“My fingernails are still cleaner than your fingers,” Xie Quan cut him off, walking into the kitchen and dishing up the food he had prepared.
“Eat.”
“When did you cook?” Lu Nanyang asked, surprised.
“While you were sleeping like a pig with your door shut,” Xie Quan replied, setting bowls and chopsticks in front of him. At the same time, he quickly glanced down at himself.
Good. His loose loungewear pants concealed everything just fine.
Lu Nanyang looked a little embarrassed.
“You should’ve said earlier! I wouldn’t have dawdled.”
“I did. I knocked on your door forever,” Xie Quan said. “Your snoring was louder than my knocking.”
Lu Nanyang’s smile froze awkwardly, and he had no choice but to shut up and focus on eating.
Xie Quan didn’t have much of an appetite. After half a bowl of rice, he set down his chopsticks. Across from him, Lu Nanyang was fully absorbed in wrestling with a chicken drumstick—whatever he ate, he made it look delicious. Xie Quan found his gaze lingering uncontrollably on Lu Nanyang’s glossy lips and the tip of his tongue, then sliding down to his neck.
Lu Nanyang’s Adam’s apple was prominent. With every gulp, it bobbed up and down.
Xie Quan suddenly felt that it had been a pity not to make him swallow it last time.
The sight would have been spectacular.
Just then, Lu Nanyang took a bite of steamed fish, his movement pausing briefly, his expression turning a little odd.
“Too salty?” Xie Quan withdrew his gaze and picked up a piece of fish for himself.
“I did put in a bit too much salt.”
“No, it’s good. I’m just grateful to have food at all,” Lu Nanyang said with a smile.
“Normally during holidays, I just order takeout whenever I wake up.”
“I avoid that stuff whenever I can,” Xie Quan said.
“God knows what kind of gutter oil they use.”
“Tch,” Lu Nanyang clicked his tongue.
“You’re so picky but also not picky at all. On one hand, you eat everything; on the other, you’re so fussy about standards. Besides chili peppers, is there any food that can win your heart?”
“There is,” Xie Quan said casually.
“Black pepper.”
“…”
Lu Nanyang gave up on the topic.
“So, any plans for the holidays?”
“Write a paper on ICU patient care in cardiothoracic surgery, do practice exams, prepare for next semester’s courses and next year’s grad school entrance exam… maybe intern a bit at Yuncheng University’s affiliated hospital,” Xie Quan said, looking up.
“Why?”
“…That’s it?”
Lu Nanyang had wanted to ask about non-study plans.
“That’s it,” Xie Quan said flatly.
“You think med students have tons of free time?”
“Even so, you should make time for some fun,” Lu Nanyang said.
“Like that girl, Shu Ziyi—don’t you plan to at least ask her out sometime?”
At the mention of her, Xie Quan immediately frowned.
“Why bring her up?”
“Isn’t she your ‘reserve girlfriend’ or whatever?” Lu Nanyang gnawed on a chicken bone.
“Shouldn’t you spend some time nurturing the relationship?”
“My love life doesn’t need your concern,” Xie Quan said coldly, standing up.
“Are you finished eating? If you are, I’ll clear the table.”
“Still—” Lu Nanyang hadn’t finished speaking when the bone in his mouth was ruthlessly snatched away by Xie Quan. In the blink of an eye, all the dishes were cleared and put into the refrigerator.
“This holiday, you can go wherever you want, hang out with whoever you like. But you are not allowed to disturb me, not allowed to enter my room, and not allowed to play games late at night without wearing headphones.” Xie Quan shut the refrigerator door with a cold snap and said icily, “And remember to wash the dishes.”
After saying that, he walked off without looking back. A few seconds later, the sound of a door being locked came from the north-facing bedroom.
Tsk… Clearly that girl was supposed to be his future girlfriend, so why was he getting angry over just a few words?
So petty.
Lu Nanyang shook his head, got up from the chair, turned on the hot water to wash the dishes, and tidied up the kitchen counter in the process.
While wiping the stove, he found a spice container next to the steamer used for the fish. He opened it, tasted a bit, and confirmed it was sugar, not salt.
He had thought it was strange—when he ate the steamed fish, it tasted sweet. Xie Quan must have accidentally used sugar instead of salt.
Lu Nanyang frowned.
But if Xie Quan had tasted it too, why would he say he had added too much salt?
