The more he asked, the more ridiculous it became. How was he supposed to answer? No matter what he said, Xie Ge would never be satisfied.
Xu Miao refused to let himself keep falling into this no-win situation. He pushed the question back at Xie Ge, making him choose:
“What do you want me to say?”
Xie Ge felt so dizzy. What was the point of asking what he wanted to hear? Even if Xu Miao denied it, that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. Anyone with half a brain could tell—it obviously had. And not just once or twice.
Many times.
And it had to have been frequent.
Otherwise, why would he buy so much? They’d expire before he ever finished using them.
His body tilted as he flopped onto the floor, closing his eyes.
“I’m tired. My head hurts. I’m going to sleep first.”
And he really did mean to sleep. He couldn’t let himself think any further. The more he thought about it, the more his head pounded, and the more unfair it all felt.
So—better to just sleep.
Of course, Xu Miao couldn’t leave a sick person lying on the floor, even if there was a carpet.
He crouched down, pulled Xie Ge up with surprising ease, carried him back to the bedroom, tossed him on the bed, shook out the blanket, and tucked him in.
But wanting to sleep and being able to sleep were two very different things. The feeling of tossing and turning, unable to rest, was unbearable. Xie Ge rolled around like a pancake, switching positions over and over, but none felt right. At last, in frustration, he flopped face-down, burying his face in the pillow.
That only made things worse—not only did his head hurt, but even his breathing was labored.
His face flushed bright red from holding his breath before he finally rolled back onto his back with a loud, restless thud, staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Xu Miao placed a pill and a glass of water on the nightstand. When calling his name got no response, he had no choice but to pull him up himself.
“Do you know how heavy you are?” Xu Miao grumbled as he sat on the edge of the bed, letting the half-slumped Xie Ge lean against him. “I only carried you because you’re sick. Otherwise, I would’ve left you on the floor.”
He tore open the foil, shook a pill into his palm, and held it out in front of him.
“I’ve always been this heavy,” Xie Ge muttered slowly, almost sulkily. “You just don’t like me anymore, that’s why you’re saying I’m heavy now. When we used to talk, I told you my height and weight. I even sent you photos. You said I had a great body, that even the placement of my moles was cute. You said you liked guys like me—muscular, defined.”
He actually felt pretty proud thinking of that photo. Back then, he’d even cut carbs for two days just to get better definition for the shot.
If Xu Miao had liked it before, why say he was “heavy” now? He’d checked—his muscles hadn’t gone anywhere.
“Did you tell him he was heavy too?” Xie Ge pressed.
Xu Miao didn’t know if it was the illness making him extra sensitive, but usually, when he teased Xie Ge about being heavy, Xie Ge would just pounce on him, pin him down, and bite his cheek or neck—asking after each bite if he still thought he was heavy—until Xu Miao finally admitted he wasn’t.
So, Xu Miao just went along with it now, treating present-Xie Ge and future-Xie Ge as two different people:
“Yeah, I told him too. But it wasn’t because I actually thought you were heavy. It was just teasing. You’re not heavy at all. If I can carry you on my back, how could you be?”
He wasn’t lying. Carrying Xie Ge that short distance hadn’t been a big deal, even if he really was pretty big.
Hearing the sincerity in his tone, Xie Ge actually felt comforted. Almost instinctively—like muscle memory—he let his head fall onto Xu Miao’s shoulder.
“My head hurts so much…” he murmured.
“Then take the medicine first, okay? Sleep after that, and when you wake up the pain will be gone.”
Since the earlier pill had been sitting out too long, Xu Miao tossed it and placed a fresh one in his palm, once again holding it out for him.
But Xie Ge misunderstood. He stared at Xu Miao’s hand. The longer he looked, the dizzier he felt.
It was nothing—just medicine. He was only taking medicine.
So he leaned forward, parted his lips, and plucked the pill straight from Xu Miao’s palm with his mouth.
Inevitably, his tongue brushed Xu Miao’s skin.
It was damp, warmer than normal body heat.
That warmth seeped directly into Xu Miao’s palm, making him shiver faintly as if burned. But he quickly steadied himself and raised the glass of water to Xie Ge’s lips.
After swallowing the pill, Xie Ge rested against his shoulder and soon drifted off.
And then—he dreamed.
A strange dream.
In it, he said all kinds of cruel things to Xu Miao. He told him to behave himself, said his character was rotten, threw away the coffee Xu Miao gave him in front of others, even called him disgusting and nauseating—again and again.
The dream ended, and he woke with a start. It seemed to be the middle of the night.
His head still throbbed dully. He pressed his arm over his eyes, blocking out his sight.
The dream had felt far too real. For a moment, he wondered if it was part of the memories he’d lost. But he couldn’t believe he would ever say such things to Xu Miao. Even if he couldn’t accept that Xu Miao was a man, he would never lash out that viciously.
It was just a dream, he reassured himself. Nothing more.
And he fell asleep again.
Only to dream the same dream.
This time, it was even more detailed.
He told Xu Miao to behave because he’d caught him eavesdropping. He threw away the coffee, saying it was because he was “allergic to caffeine.” He called him disgusting because Xu Miao not only always stared at him, but deliberately engineered run-ins—pretending restaurants were full just to sit at his table.
But public places were for everyone. There was no such thing as “eavesdropping” there. And he wasn’t allergic to caffeine. Even if a stranger asked to share his table, he’d never say something so rude.
So why had he targeted Xu Miao?
Just because Xu Miao lied about his gender? That was such a small thing. Hardly some unforgivable crime.
The feelings were real—wasn’t that what mattered?
When he woke again, daylight filled the room.
Opening his eyes, he saw Xu Miao lying beside him.
The room was silent—so silent that he could hear both their breaths. He stared at Xu Miao for a long moment before unconsciously edging closer, lying down right next to him.
Even though it had only been a dream, it still weighed on his heart. But he didn’t dare wake him, so he whispered very softly:
“You don’t like me as I am now, is it because soon I’ll become someone who treats you so terribly? But those things… weren’t me. I don’t know anything about them.”
