Lin Yu’s nape was suddenly grabbed and pinched twice.
Lu Ziqing’s broad, warm palm with slightly rough fingertips pinched his delicate nape, like picking up a little chick.
He didn’t press directly on the gland, stopping about two to three centimeters away.
But skin touched skin, and as one spot was pinched, the surrounding area felt a subtle tug.
Warmth quickly spread across Lin Yu’s skin.
Just that little distance carried a hint of an unsaid implication.
Lin Yu was stunned, caught off guard by this sudden hold on his weak spot.
His entire neck felt a bit hot.
And a bit tingly.
He stared blankly at Lu Ziqing, and his first reaction was: “Um, that wasn’t in the contract.”
Lu Ziqing: “Didn’t you say that if I felt unwell, you’d do your best to help me out?”
Lin Yu was dazed for a long time. When he finally understood what Lu Ziqing meant, he looked at him with a mixture of unfamiliarity and astonishment.
Originally intending to joke around, Lu Ziqing lost interest when he saw how seriously Lin Yu had become tense.
“Just kidding,” he withdrew his hand. “Why are you so nervous? Afraid I’ll do something to you?”
Lin Yu relaxed a bit when he saw him pull his hand back. “I was just… joking too.”
Silence filled the car.
The quiet afternoon sunlight fell on the front windshield.
Since it was midday, there were few people around. A sparse crowd moved toward the art museum entrance.
About thirty meters ahead, an old man was leaning over his popsicle cart, dozing off with his head nodding up and down.
An inexplicable awkwardness lingered in the car, neither of them speaking.
Lu Ziqing stared at the ice cream stand outside for a while. “I’ll take the afternoon off and go home to sleep. I’ll bring the leave slip tomorrow.”
The company’s policy allowed alphas one day of susceptibility leave per month. It was optional—if not taken, an extra day’s wage would be given at the end of the month.
Lin Yu focused on the old man’s bald head. “Okay.”
He added, “Should I drive you home?”
“No need,” Lu Ziqing opened the car door and got out, leaving decisively. “I’ll drive myself back.”
His brand-new, limited-edition sneakers left a layer of dust on the ground.
Lin Yu stared at the dust for a while, only looking away when Lu Ziqing’s car roared off into the distance.
…..
Lu Ziqing returned home, tossed his keys onto the coffee table, and shuffled into the bedroom in his slippers.
The scorching summer sunlight was harsh and relentless. When he drew the curtains, most of the light was blocked out, leaving the room in a long and quiet dimness.
He gulped down a large glass of iced bayberry juice, cooling him from his mouth to his chest.
He had used the susceptibility period excuse many times, but the body doesn’t lie.
This time was different from all the previous times. A strange, restless feeling simmered within him, making him anxious and uneasy.
He wasn’t sleepy but felt a clear and persistent exhaustion.
After taking a cold shower, he returned to the bedroom, lit a sleep-aid aroma diffuser, played low ASMR white noise through the speaker, and sprayed sleep-inducing perfume on the soft pillow—everything was perfectly set for sleep.
He forced himself to lie on the bed, empty his mind, and think of nothing.
Still, he couldn’t fall asleep.
Staring at the ceiling for an hour, Lu Ziqing felt like that dead fish with its eyes wide open in the British dish “Stargazy Pie.”
Frustrated, he got up, broke off two melatonin tablets, chewed them up, and swallowed them dry, making him feel like a meat duck being force-fed.
Finally, half an hour later, he fell asleep.
But even in his dreams, he found no peace. At one moment, he dreamed of his body being covered in lice—itchy and painful; the next, his dream shifted, and he found himself in a slaughterhouse. The butcher, who looked like Lin Yu, was sharpening a knife, grinning wickedly, and coming for his duck neck.
Lu Ziqing jolted awake.
The fear from the dream lingered vividly. He seriously considered whether dreaming of being a duck was due to swallowing the tablets before bed or because of pinching Lin Yu’s nape in the car at noon.
It was karma, without a doubt.
There’s truth in the saying: a clear conscience fears no knock at the door.
Lu Ziqing grabbed his phone and checked the time.
6:04 p.m.
He hadn’t expected it to be this late—he didn’t feel like he’d slept for that long.
His stomach grumbled twice.
He got up, ate some cereal, and as he watched the sky outside gradually darken, the back of his neck began to itch again.
He had thought a nap would make him feel better, but upon waking up, the discomfort at the back of his neck seemed even more pronounced.
He rubbed it with his left hand while sending a message to Lin Yu with his right: [When are you coming back?]
He waited over ten minutes, but there was no response from the other side of the chat.
Lu Ziqing hadn’t really expected a quick reply; five or six in the afternoon was Lin Yu’s busiest time. He was usually in a meeting or reviewing reports at this hour.
Since starting work here, Lin Yu had hardly ever left work at a normal time.
Lu Ziqing stood idly in the living room for a while, the pain and itch at the back of his neck becoming unbearable, and unconsciously, he moved in a particular direction.
A few seconds later, he stood at the door of Lin Yu’s bedroom, his face dark.
Although he didn’t want to admit it, his nose had made the choice before his brain did.
…A faint, sweet scent drifted out of Lin Yu’s bedroom.
The exact same scent he had smelled on the bedsheets last night.
No, it was even stronger.
The light scent of laundry soap mixed with the cool fragrance of fir trees, like the entrance to a primeval forest—mysterious and serene, drawing one in.
Lu Ziqing’s rationality held him back from pushing open the bedroom door.
Vaguely, scenes from the previous night replayed in his mind. What he had done to the bed.
This made him a bit angry, his teeth slightly clenched, and his expression darkened.
Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly noticed a piece of clothing on the sofa.
He recognized it—it was the gray, thin sweater Lin Yu often wore when working from home.
Because they kept the air conditioning on during summer, and sometimes the low temperature made him sneeze.
Lin Yu kept the thin sweater on the sofa, wearing it when working in the evening.
Lin Yu never worked in Lu Ziqing’s study. He was very conscious of boundaries and would never invade Lu Ziqing’s private space without permission.
At night, when passing through the living room, Lu Ziqing often saw Lin Yu sitting on the sofa, the laptop on his knees, looking at the screen with concentration.
The gray sweater would slip slightly, revealing his fair collarbone and chest. His fingers, cold, would curl inside the sleeves, just a bit of his fingertips exposed, typing swiftly on the keyboard.
The softness of the sweater seemed to make him look unusually gentle and tender.
Lin Yu was actually quite sharp while working, but wrapped in the soft, warm sweater, he appeared slow and docile, like a small animal huddling for warmth in winter.
Right now, Lu Ziqing stared at the gray, thin sweater, barely thinking before reaching out and picking it up.
After all, the reason he felt so irritable and uncomfortable was largely Lin Yu’s fault.
If he couldn’t take it out on the person, he could at least vent on the clothes.
Anyway, he was the only one at home—no need to worry about being called childish.
Lu Ziqing sat on the sofa and “kneaded” the sweater roughly.
From the collar to the sleeves, from the sides to the hem.
Wrinkle, flatten, spread out, and wrinkle again.
A careless move, and the sweater slipped down his legs.
Instinctively, he clamped it with his legs.
Before he could pick it up, the next second, a soft sound came from behind him.
Lin Yu’s voice drifted over, filled with shock and disbelief: “…What are you doing?”
Lu Ziqing instinctively turned his head, then realized, and looked down.
The gray sweater, having just been mistreated, now lay pitifully clamped between his legs, and the way he held it so tightly made it look like…
Lu Ziqing: “…”
Damn it, now he finally understood—Dou E was indeed wrongfully executed.
Jesus, Laozi, Jade Emperor, Zeus, Apollo—any god would do. Please save him.
Director Lin, if I say I didn’t mean it, really didn’t mean it, would you believe me?
[mfn]
Author’s Note:
Well, I don’t believe it ^O^
[/mfn]
🤣🤣🤣😬