Wen Yun’s flight arrived in the early hours of the morning, landing in City A in the dead of night.
He could have returned the next day—there was nothing urgent at work.
But his mind was preoccupied with someone. He couldn’t wait.
Wen Yun hadn’t expected to see Xie Zhinan standing by the roadside.
The temperature had dropped that evening. Xie Zhinan wore a white short-sleeved shirt underneath a thin, almost translucent, pale yellow jacket. His hair was slightly disheveled, and under the dim streetlight, a few strands stuck out, catching the light. A faint red mark was visible on his cheek, his wide eyes betraying a sense of bewilderment and helplessness.
Wen Yun’s gaze traveled downward. On this damp, chilly autumn night, Xie Zhinan was wearing shorts that barely reached his thighs, exposing a pair of straight, pale legs.
A cold gust of wind blew, lifting the edges of his thin jacket. He shivered instinctively, and Wen Yun’s brows furrowed even tighter.
“…Mr. Wen?” After a few seconds, Xie Zhinan finally spoke, his voice tinged with surprise.
Wen Yun shifted his gaze back to Xie Zhinan’s pale face.
“Get in,” Wen Yun said.
Xie Zhinan hesitated briefly but considering Caramel’s condition, he decided to get in the car.
He had ridden in Wen Yun’s luxury car before, but that was years ago. Everything was different now.
He sat stiffly, curling up into a small ball as if he were a well-behaved student. He held the pet carrier securely on his lap, making sure to keep at least half a meter of distance between himself and Wen Yun.
Wen Yun’s jaw tightened, his sharp eyes sweeping over him. “Do you think I’ll eat you?”
Xie Zhinan: “…”
Reluctantly, Xie Zhinan inched a little closer.
The driver was Lin Jing. When he recognized Xie Zhinan, he turned back and smiled warmly.
Xie Zhinan, too preoccupied to feel awkward, quickly greeted him. “Hello, Assistant Lin.”
Lin Jing, ever the professional, nodded politely before turning his attention back to the road.
The car was much warmer than outside, but Xie Zhinan still shivered lightly, his condition not much better than Caramel’s in the carrier.
Wen Yun’s gaze fell on Xie Zhinan’s exposed legs.
Mistaking the direction of Wen Yun’s attention, Xie Zhinan quickly explained, “This is my cat. It’s sick. Sorry, I forgot to mention it before getting in. If it bothers you, I can get off at the next stop.”
It seemed as if Wen Yun hadn’t heard a word of Xie Zhinan’s apology.
His fingertips twitched slightly, as though he wanted to touch Xie Zhinan’s skin to feel its temperature. Yet, for some reason, he restrained himself. His hand remained where it was, motionless.
He lowered his gaze and asked, “Are you cold?”
Xie Zhinan froze, only then realizing Wen Yun had been looking at his shorts-clad legs.
In his haste to leave, he hadn’t had time to change. He was still wearing his pajamas.
Calling them pajamas was a stretch—they were just old clothes: a white cotton T-shirt and black shorts from years ago, comfortable enough to double as sleepwear.
Perhaps because of his exhaustion, Wen Yun appeared less aloof and distant than usual. His eyes softened as they traced the curve of Xie Zhinan’s thighs, slid down the supple lines of his calves, and finally rested on the swollen redness of his ankle.
Xie Zhinan had rushed downstairs earlier and accidentally bumped it, leaving a red mark on the delicate skin.
Though Wen Yun’s demeanor appeared calm, and his gaze indifferent, Xie Zhinan felt as if the look burned him. He instinctively pulled his legs closer together, uneasy, and murmured softly, “…I-I’m not cold.”
Right after saying that, he sneezed twice.
Wen Yun: “…”
Xie Zhinan: “…”
The white T-shirt Xie Zhinan was wearing had been washed so much it was nearly see-through, and the neckline had stretched out, hanging loosely. It exposed a smooth expanse of his shoulders and neck, his prominent collarbones, and, below that, a blinding stretch of pale skin. Faintly, through the fabric, a hint of redness could be seen.
Wen Yun’s eyelids twitched. Maintaining his usual expression, he averted his gaze, picked up a suit jacket from beside him, and handed it to Xie Zhinan.
Xie Zhinan looked up in confusion.
Wen Yun was wearing a white shirt and a tailored suit vest, perfectly pressed. His wide shoulders and slim waist were accentuated by the fitted cut, presenting an air of refinement.
The hand holding the jacket extended toward Xie Zhinan—broad, with prominent knuckles and visible veins along the back of it.
Back in high school, Wen Yun had always worn loose-fitting school uniform. During the summer vacation they spent together, Wen Yun’s style was relaxed and breezy, full of youthful charm.
But not anymore.
His heavy gaze and the inexplicable sense of authority it carried bore down on Xie Zhinan, sending a faint shiver down his spine.
The jacket appeared to have been removed by Wen Yun earlier.
Xie Zhinan didn’t ask if he felt cold.
Wen Yun always seemed cold and unapproachable, as though his very being lacked warmth.
But Xie Zhinan knew that wasn’t true—Wen Yun’s body was warm.
…Very warm.
Even sitting next to him now, Xie Zhinan could feel the heat radiating from his body, almost overwhelming him.
In the past, when Wen Yun had held him while they slept, Xie Zhinan would end up sweating from the heat.
Though it wasn’t the most comfortable, being cramped and stifling, Xie Zhinan had liked the intimacy of their skin touching. So, he never pushed Wen Yun away, not even once.
“If you’re cold, wear it,” Wen Yun said succinctly.
The memory caught Xie Zhinan off guard, leaving him feeling slightly awkward. He thought perhaps they were sitting too close now. Just as he was about to stubbornly insist again that he wasn’t cold, he sneezed several more times in quick succession.
“Your cat is sick, and you want to get sick too?” Wen Yun’s voice was hoarse, stripped of its usual coldness.
Xie Zhinan felt betrayed by his own body and couldn’t help but feel a faint itch in his ears.
…Actually, he had gotten sick.
But he was almost better now.
He opened his mouth to say something but ultimately stayed silent.
“Put it on,” Wen Yun repeated, his tone firmer this time, leaving no room for refusal.
Xie Zhinan let out a soft “Okay” and took the suit jacket from Wen Yun’s hands, murmuring, “Thank you, Mr. Wen.”
In the past, whenever Wen Yun heard Xie Zhinan call him “Mr. Wen,” he would respond with a cold and stern expression. Tonight, however, he merely replied with a quiet “Mm.”
Wen Yun’s suits were all custom-made, expertly tailored with high-quality, expensive materials.
To drape it directly over his own flimsy, ten-yuan jacket felt almost disrespectful…
Quietly, Xie Zhinan removed his own jacket and carefully put on Wen Yun’s.
The familiar scent of cool cedar enveloped him instantly, seeping into his skin, leaving traces within his body, like some kind of brand or mark.
Completely unreasonable.
“To the pet clinic?” Wen Yun asked.
Xie Zhinan finished putting on the jacket, nodded, then added hesitantly, “…Thank you, Mr. Wen. Sorry to trouble you…you.”
Trouble.
Wen Yun let out a faint, ambiguous chuckle and instructed Lin Jing, “Head to the nearest pet clinic.”
“Understood, Mr. Wen.”
Perhaps it was because he hadn’t rested well, or maybe it was the current atmosphere, which made it so easy to feel relaxed.
The space was enclosed, the lighting dim, and even the air seemed to conspire to weaken one’s will.
Wen Yun’s expression carried a hint of fatigue, and his previously unapproachable aura had softened, making Xie Zhinan feel a little less guarded.
Clutching the carrier on his lap tightly, Xie Zhinan felt as though only this grip could keep his heart, which was pounding wildly, from leaping out of his chest.
The car drove past one streetlamp after another, the alternating light and shadow flickering between them.
The faint scent of Wen Yun’s cologne continued to drift into Xie Zhinan’s nose. Just moments ago, he had been cold, but now, inexplicably, a strange warmth was rising.
…It must have been all the unnecessary thoughts swirling in his head.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, Xie Zhinan turned slightly—only to meet Wen Yun’s deep, dark eyes staring at him.
Wen Yun had been watching him all along.
Xie Zhinan’s heart gave a sudden jolt, and he instinctively looked away, but Wen Yun didn’t let him off.
Wen Yun extended a hand toward him. In the dim light, under the flicker of passing streetlamps, Xie Zhinan caught the motion in his peripheral vision—a hand reaching for him.
His spine straightened instinctively, his rational mind urging him to avoid it. But his body froze, stiff and unmoving.
He’d rushed out of bed half-asleep earlier, leaving a faint red imprint on his face and a few stray hairs pressed into the mark.
Wen Yun’s fingertips, initially aimed at Xie Zhinan’s face, paused mid-reach. His movements had been impulsive, but now he noticed Xie Zhinan’s tightly clenched jaw and rigid posture. His hand hesitated for two seconds before moving down instead.
Wen Yun leaned in closer, and just as Xie Zhinan could no longer bear it and was about to raise a hand to ward him off, it was too late. Wen Yun’s hand landed—on the collar of his shirt.
Xie Zhinan didn’t have time to react. Wen Yun’s fingers brushed lightly against the back of his neck. His skin was icy cold, while Wen Yun’s fingers were just as warm as he remembered. The touch was fleeting, almost accidental, and Wen Yun withdrew his hand immediately.
Startled, Xie Zhinan turned to look at him.
“Your collar wasn’t folded properly,” Wen Yun said nonchalantly, without sparing him another glance.
His face remained calm, betraying no emotion. The distance between them returned to the polite and safe boundary once more.
Xie Zhinan: “…”
Oh… so that’s all it was.
He exhaled softly, unsure of how he truly felt.
The rest of the drive passed in silence. Wen Yun, having been working non-stop for days, closed his eyes for a brief rest.
With Wen Yun quiet, Xie Zhinan also stayed silent, clutching the carrier tightly and gazing out of the window in a daze.
Two minutes later, he unconsciously touched the back of his neck.
It was still warm.
Before long, they arrived at the pet clinic.
Xie Zhinan got out of the car holding the carrier, wearing Wen Yun’s oversized black suit jacket.
He had a small frame and was much shorter than Wen Yun. The jacket hung loosely on him, covering his hips. His sleep shorts, already short, made his legs look bare from behind, as though he was just wearing the oversized jacket.
It was also a symbol of possessiveness and protectiveness.
Lin Jing, catching sight of this, felt his brow twitch. With a sense of foreboding, he raised his eyes and met Wen Yun’s cold gaze in the rearview mirror.
Lin Jing: “…”
Lin Jing, with remarkable composure, quickly averted his eyes.
