At first, it wasn’t much of a kiss—or at least, not a conventional one.
When Li Xuan kissed, he was like a fierce animal, a wolf or a leopard. Clumsy, unrefined, but insistent and relentless in his pursuit of Sheng Min’s lips.
It felt more like a bite at first. Sheng Min’s lips stung slightly under the pressure. His interlocked fingers began to sweat faintly as Li Xuan instinctively sought entry through his lips.
Li Xuan was always determined in everything he did. His hand had shifted from Sheng Min’s neck to his waist, pulling him in tightly, leaving no room to retreat—not that Sheng Min could back away further even if he wanted to.
Yet, buried within his ferocity, Sheng Min discerned a hint of vulnerability. His heart softened, and he parted his lips ever so slightly.
Li Xuan seized the opportunity, savoring the sweetness of Sheng Min’s tongue. He hadn’t realized until this moment that he had such a sweet tooth. Sheng Min’s soft tongue was the only candy Li Xuan had ever sought in his 22 years of life.
The kiss lasted longer than expected. Li Xuan was both impatient and impossibly patient, leaving no corner unexplored. Only when they were both out of breath did Li Xuan reluctantly let go, his gaze still lingering on Sheng Min’s lips, as though dissatisfied.
For a moment, neither spoke. The rhythmic beating of their hearts became the only sound in the stillness.
Their bodies remained close, Sheng Min’s waist still held firmly in Li Xuan’s grasp. When he attempted to put some distance between them, Li Xuan immediately pulled him closer, as if guarding his treasure.
“Let go first,” Sheng Min murmured, his breathing still unsteady, as he lowered his eyes to negotiate.
“No.” Li Xuan’s refusal was stubborn and irrational.
He tightened his grip. Sheng Min, unwilling to wrestle with him, gave up struggling. After a long pause, he asked softly, “Have you thought it through?”
“I don’t want to think anymore… I just want you.” Li Xuan’s gaze locked onto his, his voice raw with both frustration and urgency. “I think about you every day. It hurts—down to my bones.”
These words didn’t sound like something Li Xuan would typically say. Yet, coming from him, this vulnerable confession felt like a victory declaration.
Before Sheng Min could fully process this, Li Xuan leaned in again, stealing another kiss.
Sheng Min was utterly dazed, instinctively pressing against Li Xuan’s chest, but Li Xuan merely tilted his head and nuzzled their noses together in playful defiance. Sheng Min, once again, allowed him to have his way.
This time, Li Xuan seemed satisfied. When they separated, he licked his lips, as if savoring the lingering taste. Staring at Sheng Min’s flushed face and reddened lips, a restrained smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Suddenly, Sheng Min felt annoyed—not sure whether it was with Li Xuan or his own wavering resolve. He pushed hard against Li Xuan’s chest, breaking free from his embrace. His shirt brushed against the wall, smudging a streak of gray, as he looked up at Li Xuan, his breath still uneven.
Under Sheng Min’s rare yet silent reproachful gaze, Li Xuan finally realized he hadn’t received a response to his overdue confession—if it could even be called that.
Panic immediately set in. The smile froze on his face, but he quickly regained his composure and caught Sheng Min’s hand once more. Sheng Min barely moved before Li Xuan firmly pressed his palm against his chest, over his racing heart.
He stared at Sheng Min’s profile, his throat working as he struggled to speak. After a long moment, he finally managed, “Is it okay?”
“What’s okay?” Sheng Min asked softly. “Me?”
Li Xuan leaned closer, pressing his forehead against Sheng Min’s. “Of course you’re perfect… I’m asking about us.”
Sheng Min didn’t respond right away, allowing Li Xuan to remain close. His fingers rested lightly against Li Xuan’s chest, feeling the rapid thudding beneath his palm.
Why was it beating so fast?
Li Xuan’s fingers unconsciously stroked the back of Sheng Min’s hand, while his other arm held him gently, as though cradling a fragile, priceless porcelain figure.
He was nervous.
Realizing this, Sheng Min’s faint irritation melted away, replaced by a bittersweet tenderness. Was he pressing against Li Xuan’s heart, or was Li Xuan pressing against his own?
Lowering his gaze to hide his emotions, Sheng Min heard Li Xuan call his name softly, testing the waters.
“Mm,” Sheng Min answered quietly.
Li Xuan felt he had so much more to say, but in that moment, all the words he had rehearsed fled his mind. Instead, he repeated, “Sheng Min.”
Those two simple syllables carried a hypnotic weight, as if they were some ancient incantation meant to enchant and ensnare.
Sheng Min sighed silently and slowly wrapped his arms around Li Xuan’s neck. Meeting his eyes, he whispered, “It’s okay.”
This time, it was Li Xuan’s turn to be stunned. Sheng Min, however, didn’t waver.
“Do you want to think about it more?” Li Xuan asked, feeling foolish even as the words left his lips. He felt as if he were dreaming, though even in dreams, he’d never been this unsteady.
“I don’t need to,” Sheng Min replied, shaking his head. After a long pause, he smiled faintly and leaned in to brush their lips together. “I said yes. You can do whatever you want… I’ve already agreed.”
Compared to the previous kiss, this one barely counted, yet Li Xuan’s ears burned, and his neck turned red. He felt more silly than ever but was more than willing to expose all his weaknesses in front of Sheng Min.
He didn’t know where to put his hands or how to act. By all rights, this shouldn’t have flustered him—Sheng Min’s feelings had long been clear. Yet, he remained at a loss, struggling to form a coherent sentence.
So Sheng Min spoke.
“I love you.”
He took the initiative to embrace Li Xuan, tender and open: “So, let’s be together. As long as you want.”
For at least half a minute or perhaps longer, Li Xuan suddenly raised his hand and tightly embraced Sheng Min’s slender back, as if trying to merge Sheng Min into his bones and make him his own possession.
His body was so warm that even through the fabric, the heat of his skin could be felt. A moth flying into the fire—was this what that saying meant?
Li Xuan’s heartbeat remained rapid. Sheng Min gently stroked his back.
This was good. This was the best. Sheng Min thought. The taste of panic or nervousness—he wasn’t willing to let Li Xuan experience it even for a second. He even saved him the trouble of waiting. There was no obligatory answer, so whatever Li Xuan wanted, Sheng Min was willing to give.
From a young age, he had performed countless love stories in scripts, witnessing numerous lovesick men and women in agony, searching, and uttering lines of exaggerated sorrow about love being a game or a battle of wits.
Back then, Sheng Min didn’t understand, and Li Xuan’s love hadn’t taught him either.
The desire to win was something he eternally lacked. In this battle between just the two of them, if he were the referee, he would favor Li Xuan without hesitation. If they were opponents, he would be the first to surrender.
Sheng Min didn’t care about being the victor, as long as Li Xuan always wore the crown. He could be the one clapping for him on the sidelines or his spoils of war.
The hug lasted a long time or maybe only an instant. They were lost in a universe created by each other, where time had adopted a new way of measurement. A moment and an eternity were the same length.
Until the phone rang, abruptly breaking the silence. Li Xuan remained still, and Sheng Min lightly pushed him. “Answer the call.”
Reluctantly, Li Xuan let go, pressed the answer button, and said, “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Qi Boyuan, on his third call, seemed stunned when it finally connected. After Li Xuan said “hello” twice, Qi Boyuan finally remembered to speak. “Are you coming back?”
“Back where?”
Qi Boyuan was baffled by the question. “Back to the office… Aren’t we supposed to have a meeting? Is it delayed by half an hour or canceled?”
“Half an hour might not be enough,” Li Xuan glanced at the time. “You start without me. You’re more familiar with the basic details than I am.”
“What about next month’s version update? The plan was all drafted by you.”
“I’ll come back and explain that.”
“Alright…”
Qi Boyuan seemed like he wanted to ask something else, but Li Xuan abruptly ended the conversation with “That’s it” and hung up. He offered Sheng Min an apologetic smile.
“Do you need to go back to the office?” Sheng Min asked casually.
Li Xuan nodded. Qi Boyuan’s call brought him back to some semblance of reality. He had dragged Sheng Min away like this, and the fact that it had stayed peaceful until now was miraculous. Clearing his throat, he asked, “Has Yang Xu contacted you?”
“My phone’s still on airplane mode.”
After switching off airplane mode, a flood of unread WeChat messages and missed call notifications popped up, most of them from Yang Xu.
Sheng Min first checked Weibo for the situation. As expected, the fan forums were in chaos. Fortunately, Li Xuan had worn a mask, so while there were many pictures, none showed his face clearly.
However, some meticulous fans had already compared body shapes to past event photos, locking onto the same figure.
“It’s just an assistant. He’s been at several events before…”
“Does this figure really belong to the assistant? … Anyone have a clear face photo? A friend of mine wants to see…”
“Here it is. Picture.jpg.”
“That’s Yang Xu’s, not even close. Are you blind…”
“Any clearer photos? All we’ve got are mask shots or blurry ones like they were taken on an old flip phone… Who even took these?”
Most comments, though, were aimed at scolding the management company and stalker fans. Past absurd incidents were compiled into a grand exposé plastered everywhere.
But under the video clip of them running together, which had already been replayed millions of times, the top comment came from a random person, not even a fan:
“This looks like an elopement.”
