Xie Zhinan’s fingertip hovered over the phone screen, hesitating to press.
It was strange. At that moment, he felt as though he were being judged.
He had abandoned his old WeChat account, left the city where they had been in love, and stayed silent about the past. Yet Wen Yun had held onto the same contact information all this time.
It felt like Wen Yun had remained standing in the same spot, while he had walked away without looking back, leaving him behind.
How could that be?
Xie Zhinan felt a pang of sorrow. He thought, Wen Yun didn’t even like me.
The end of their relationship had been something Wen Yun had tacitly agreed to, hadn’t it?
“What are you spacing out for?” Wen Yun’s cool voice snapped Xie Zhinan out of his thoughts.
He startled, suddenly raising his head and meeting Wen Yun’s gaze.
His wide eyes shimmered with soft, fragile light, and the reflection of a distant glow flickered within them. For a moment, his expression appeared… delicate.
Wen Yun frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Xie Zhinan quickly lowered his eyelids, shook his head in silence, and accepted Wen Yun’s friend request.
The small red sticker that Li Mo had put on his eyelid earlier in the afternoon was still there. As Xie Zhinan’s gaze dropped, the sticker stood out vividly against his thin, translucent skin.
Wen Yun’s frown deepened. Unconsciously, he reached out his hand.
The cool tips of his fingers touched Xie Zhinan’s eyelid. Xie Zhinan’s body trembled, and he instinctively blinked a few times, leaning back slightly.
It was a movement of avoidance.
“Don’t move,” Wen Yun said softly, leaning in closer, his voice low.
Xie Zhinan, following his instruction, froze, his body stiff and motionless.
They weren’t too close. There was a polite, restrained distance between them. Wen Yun merely leaned in slightly, his fingertips brushing against Xie Zhinan’s eyelid.
But Xie Zhinan could still feel the warmth from Wen Yun’s body. A faint woody scent enveloped him, and his heart hammered wildly in his chest.
Instincts blared loudly in his mind, screaming at him to run. But his body refused to obey, staying stiff and unmoving.
Wen Yun, with controlled yet deliberate gestures, ran his fingertip across Xie Zhinan’s eyelid. Unable to hold back, Xie Zhinan’s eyeball shifted, and his lashes fluttered. They were long, soft, brushing against Wen Yun’s fingertip with a slight tickling sensation.
He wanted to escape.
Before Xie Zhinan could pull away completely, Wen Yun finally withdrew his hand. He opened his palm, revealing a small red piece of paper, no bigger than a grain of rice.
“How did this get stuck to your eye?” Wen Yun asked.
Their relationship clearly shouldn’t have been so intimate, but Wen Yun’s expression was casual, as though this was just a small, insignificant act of help.
Xie Zhinan hesitated for a moment before answering, “…It’s for warding off evil.”
“Warding off evil? Who’s it for?” Wen Yun’s gaze was sharp and cold.
Xie Zhinan replied, “…It’s to ward off a pervert.”
Wen Yun didn’t avert his gaze, his eyes fixed on Xie Zhinan’s face, as if waiting for him to explain further.
Xie Zhinan: “…”
Xie Zhinan was the type of person who was slow to act. You’d have to poke him a bit before he’d respond; otherwise, he’d just remain soft and lazy, curled up in a ball, motionless under the sun.
“Warding off Li Qing,” Xie Zhinan said, “Not….”
He had originally planned to clarify, to say “not you,” but then he realized that if he added that, it would probably make things worse.
His gut feeling told him that if he said, “not you,” Wen Yun would definitely ask, “Oh? Why clarify that? Do you think I’m the pervert, Xie Zhinan?”
A trap.
He couldn’t fall for it again.
“What do you mean, ‘not’?” Wen Yun wasn’t about to let him off the hook.
Xie Zhinan quickly shut his mouth, pressing his lips together, and warily looked at Wen Yun, shaking his head quickly.
Wen Yun smiled. “Xie Zhinan, you really are…”
His fingertips moved slightly, as if he was about to pinch Xie Zhinan.
What was he about to say?
Xie Zhinan glanced at Wen Yun, feeling like what he was about to say probably wasn’t something good. So, he decided not to listen and repeated, “I need to work!”
Knowing he couldn’t push things too far, Wen Yun raised an eyebrow and said, “Suit yourself.”
Xie Zhinan quickly turned his head back and began typing furiously on the keyboard, looking very serious and focused.
Wen Yun unlocked his phone and accepted the friend request.
Ding.
The WeChat screen lit up.
Taking advantage of the moment when Wen Yun wasn’t paying attention, Xie Zhinan sneakily glanced at the screen. The friend request had been accepted, and a transfer notification popped up.
The overtime pay had been deposited.
Finally satisfied, Xie Zhinan went back to working, moving the metaphorical bricks for his boss in earnest.
Not long after, a knock came at the office door. Wen Yun called out, “Come in,” and Xie Zhinan, sticking to his “invisible man” mentality, shrank into himself. He hid behind his computer screen, not once lifting his head.
From the corner of his eye, he could tell the person entering was Lin Jing. Lin Jing, of course, recognized the person occupying a corner of Wen Yun’s desk as Xie Zhinan. He kindly pretended not to notice and placed the things he was holding on the desk. After nodding to Wen Yun, he left quietly.
Lin Jing had brought a square thermal bag, which looked like takeout packaging from a restaurant. A faint, sweet fragrance wafted through the air and drifted into Xie Zhinan’s nose.
Gurgle…
The instant the food scent reached him, Xie Zhinan’s stomach growled loudly. He had been hungry for a while after that instant noodle lunch, and now his stomach was protesting loudly.
Xie Zhinan: “…”
He quickly pressed his hand against his stomach, trying to hide his rebellious growl.
“Don’t cover it up. I heard it,” Wen Yun, not being particularly kind, called out Xie Zhinan’s awkwardness without hesitation.
Xie Zhinan was an easy person to embarrass. His skin was thin, and any little emotion showed on his face. His face turned a little red, and he muttered a dry, “Oh.”
Of course he was hungry—there was no dinner when working overtime. Who wouldn’t be hungry? He wasn’t a monk after all.
But he had a soft temper, like dough that wouldn’t get upset no matter how much you kneaded or squeezed it. It was as if nothing could really affect him. He didn’t care about anything.
Xie Zhinan didn’t get angry. He simply assumed that since Wen Yun had mentioned it, it meant he could go eat.
So he looked at Wen Yun seriously and asked:
“Can I go downstairs to eat… then come back to continue working?”
“Come eat.”
The two sentences collided perfectly.
Wen Yun’s expression instantly disappeared, and his gaze became somewhat oppressive as he stared at Xie Zhinan with no emotion.
Xie Zhinan immediately fell silent, like a snail sensing danger when its antennae are touched, quickly pulling itself back into its shell.
The silent atmosphere was thick with the sweet aroma of the food, lingering between them.
It felt a little awkward.
Xie Zhinan lowered his head in silence, his hands curled into fists on his knees, sitting quietly, his entire demeanor exuding a natural, harmless aura.
Wen Yun looked at him and coldly replied, “No.”
“Okay, okay,” Xie Zhinan quickly responded, preparing to turn back and continue working.
Wen Yun then said, “Just sit there.”
Xie Zhinan froze, not daring to move. He glanced at Wen Yun’s cold expression, and that glance was immediately caught by Wen Yun.
Wen Yun’s gaze enveloped him, his voice cold: “If you don’t want to eat, then just watch me eat.”
Xie Zhinan: “…”
Xie Zhinan, feeling guilty, rubbed the tip of his nose. “Oh.”
Wen Yun opened the thermal bag, took out a few small wooden steamers, and opened one to reveal several crystal-clear shrimp dumplings.
Xie Zhinan didn’t really like seafood or river delicacies; he found them too fishy. However, shrimp dumplings in Cantonese cuisine were always made so well—no fishy taste, only the fresh sweetness of the shrimp. Xie Zhinan really liked them.
He glanced a few times at the small steamer, then looked at Wen Yun, who was still staring at him with a neutral expression.
Anyone could tell that Wen Yun wasn’t happy right now.
Xie Zhinan racked his brain again, wondering what he could say to ease the tension.
Gurgle—
His stomach growled again.
In this silent atmosphere, a growling stomach felt especially embarrassing.
Xie Zhinan’s face immediately flushed red, even the tips of his ears turned pink.
He looked at Wen Yun, his eyes glistening with an unspoken plea.
There was anger, but it couldn’t be expressed.
Wen Yun silently sighed, took out the bowl and chopsticks, and handed them to Xie Zhinan. His expression and tone softened as he said, “Eat. I bought it for you anyway.”
Xie Zhinan hesitated, not moving.
Wen Yun raised an eyebrow. “Are you really planning to watch me eat?”
Xie Zhinan looked at Wen Yun, as if wanting to say something, but then hesitated. Wen Yun patiently waited for him. After a couple of seconds, Xie Zhinan asked softly.
“Why did you buy me dinner?”
Wen Yun’s voice was calm. “Has our company really cut back to the point where they don’t even provide meals for employees working overtime?”
That wasn’t quite the point.
Xie Zhinan pressed his lips together and stayed silent.
Wen Yun was also quiet for a couple of seconds before asking, “Do you really need a reason?”
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Author’s Note:
Who understands, I really love shrimp dumplings T_T.
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