TL: Hua
Xie Yu’s head ached from the noise. His amber eyes struggled to focus, vaguely landing on the newcomer. He showed a slightly puzzled expression, seemingly not understanding what the system was howling about.
Shen Ci’s gaze swept over Xie Yu’s slightly wet clothes, and he said coldly, “If I hadn’t come, how were you planning to get back?”
In such cold weather, with soaked clothes, was he planning to walk three kilometers to find Xu Qingshan?
He unlocked the car door. Seeing that Xie Yu was standing still, he slightly quirked his lips—an expression that was hard to tell if it was sarcasm or self-mockery—and then he lowered his eyes: “What, fallen to such a state, and you still don’t want to get into my…”
Before he could finish speaking, a sudden weight pressed down on his shoulder. Heat permeated his clothes. Shen Ci’s fingertips twitched as he looked back in disbelief.
Xie Yu had embraced him.
He was dead drunk and seemed to have mistaken Shen Ci for a sturdy railing post, leaning most of his weight onto him.
“…”
Xie Yu was an adult man, and a tall one at that, with developed chest and abdominal muscles, so he was not light.
Shen Ci was unprepared and stumbled under the weight. He turned around, a hint of helplessness on his face, his usual detached expression replaced by confusion and bewilderment. He raised his arms to wrap around Xie Yu’s waist, preventing him from sliding down, and asked in a hoarse voice, “What are you doing?”
Xie Yu didn’t answer. His mind was muddled, and he was very cold. Suddenly hugging something warm and something whose touch felt incredibly familiar, as if he was accustomed to holding it, he nestled his face against it, rubbing against the warm skin.
Shen Ci: “!!!”
Xie Yu was a bit taller than him, and the way he nestled felt like a large cat snuggling. Shen Ci hesitated for a moment, then raised a hand to touch him.
His hand came away with a cold dampness.
Jiangcheng after the rain was simply too cold. The moisture clung to the body, chilling him like ice.
Shen Ci opened the car door and painstakingly helped Xie Yu inside. When Young Master Xie was drunk, his bones were softer than a cat’s, and he slumped limply onto the seat. Shen Ci was quite flustered. He struggled to buckle Xie Yu’s seatbelt, then turned the heater to the highest setting. Finally, he pulled a plush towel from the glove compartment and, without a word, covered Xie Yu’s head with it.
Xie Yu lifted his eyelids to look at him, his expression utterly blank.
Shen Ci sighed silently, resignedly wrapping the towel around Xie Yu’s hair. His long, slender fingers ran through the strands, gently drying them for him.
As he wiped, he became somewhat lost in thought.
Five years ago, Xie Yu had also dried his hair this way.
That day was also a chilly, rainy one. He had rushed into Young Master Xie’s car, already two minutes late. Shen Ci had been tense then, prepared to face any reprimand, but Xie Yu had done the same, placing a fluffy towel on his head. Shen Ci vaguely remembered Xie Yu’s expression at the time, similar to his own, with a hint of a helpless smile at the corner of his lips, as if complaining, “How did you get yourself into such a state?”
Shen Ci sighed, reining in his thoughts, and concentrated on drying the hair in his hands. He inadvertently met Xie Yu’s eyes. Young Master Xie was thoroughly drunk but not completely unconscious. His brown eyes were half-closed, as if he was comfortable from being petted.
… He looked even more like a purring big cat.
The big cat lay in the reclining seat, motionless, allowing himself to be handled. You could mess with his hair, his ear tips, or anything else you wished.
Shen Ci’s fingertips paused. He averted his gaze from the dripping line of the other’s collarbone, resuming the hair drying.
After finishing his hair, he had some trouble with clothes. There were no suitable clothes for Xie Yu in the car. Shen Ci reluctantly took off his suit jacket and looked at his bottom shirt with pain. The shirt was soaked with water and stuck to his body, which was not easy to take off. Moreover, Xie Yu did not cooperate—when asked to raise his hand, he’d look at you blankly; when asked to turn around, he’d still look at you blankly.
Roughly estimated, under the ravages of alcohol, Young Master Xie’s language analysis system was about equivalent to that of a three-year-old.
Shen Ci didn’t know how many sighs he’d let out that day. Like peeling garlic, he forcibly extricated Xie Yu from his clothes and then wrapped him in a clean towel.
To be fair, the physique beneath the towel was quite impressive. The muscle curves of his chest, abdomen, waist, and back were smooth and beautiful, a perfect balance between strong and lean—neither overly grotesque nor too gaunt and weak.
But Shen Ci was in no mood to admire it now. Xie Yu had spent an entire afternoon at the cemetery in the dead of winter, enduring cold wind and rain, and hadn’t changed clothes. His only worry at the moment was that Xie Yu would catch a cold.
Shen Ci pressed the clutch, started the ignition, and the Bentley swerved in a graceful arc, turning onto the winding mountain road.
He hadn’t been able to drive five years ago, but now he was both steady and fast, keeping the speed close to the limit.
During the drive, Xie Yu briefly sobered up in his confusion. He saw double and mistook the driver for some kindhearted passerby, then said with difficulty, “Can you… can you take me to…”
Shen Ci pulled over to the side of the road and leaned in to listen to him, only to hear Xie Yu say, “…send me to… send me to the mental hospital.”
Shen Ci stared at him coolly for a while, then let out a laugh: “No.”
He stepped on the accelerator, and the Bentley sped off like the wind, returning to the hotel in less than half an hour.
Shen Ci parked at the hotel entrance and got Xie Yu out of the car. Xie Yu was as soft as a boneless koala, using Shen Ci as a crutch. Shen Ci was flustered, but when the lobby manager came to offer help, he politely declined.
“Thank you,” Shen Ci said politely. “No need, I can manage him myself.”
His tone was courteous and polite, and his attire and accessories were elegant and refined. If not for being weighed down and off-balance by Xie Yu, he would have appeared as a distinguished and gentle person. But at the moment, his hair was disheveled, a shirt button was torn off, and his glasses were askew on his nose, making him look quite disheveled.
The lobby manager was bewildered and repeatedly confirmed, “Are you sure you don’t need help?”
Shen Ci shook his head: “It’s fine.”
He maneuvered Xie Yu into the elevator, all the way to the top floor. By the time he settled him onto the bed, Shen Ci himself was sweating. After giving Xie Yu a quick clean, he went to the bathroom to wash up. When he came out in his loungewear, Xie Yu was already asleep.
Asleep, Xie Yu was even more harmless. Half his face was pressed against the pillow, the blanket creating a soft curve on his cheek. Shen Ci sat down by the bed, frowning slightly. Xie Yu was currently drunk, but he would surely ask why he was at the hotel when he woke up tomorrow. He pondered for a moment, unable to come up with suitable words, feeling somewhat annoyed. Just as he was about to call his secretary to send some hangover remedies, Xie Yu suddenly nudged closer to him and took his hand.
“…”
For a moment, Shen Ci even thought he had returned to five years ago.
This was completely Xie Yu’s subconscious action, driven by his body’s instinct. There was something familiar nearby, so he reached out, clasped it, and pulled it into his embrace.
Xie Yu was drunk, but his strength was considerable. Shen Ci was pulled off balance, tilting sideways onto the bed. His freshly tidied loungewear was disheveled again. Xie Yu was like an animal that had found a familiar spot, circling Shen Ci and holding him still.
He was hugging too tightly, which was uncomfortable. Shen Ci instinctively tried to push him away, but then Xie Yu vaguely opened his eyes, like a drunken cat: “Don’t… don’t move, let me hug you…”
With that, he tilted his head, about to fall asleep again.
Shen Ci gazed at him for a long while, then suddenly reached out and propped up his forehead, forcing him to meet his gaze: “Xie Yu, who am I?”
Xie Yu was dazed and didn’t answer. He frowned slightly, showing some annoyance at being disturbed from his sleep, and tilted his head to go back to sleep.
But Shen Ci didn’t let go. He looked directly into Xie Yu’s eyes: “Who are you holding? And who do you want to hold?”
Having been abroad for five years, given Young Master Xie’s playboy nature, it was possible he had found someone else. Five years ago, the other party had left decisively, and after returning to the country, he had shown no recognition whatsoever. Now, this was all Shen Ci’s own willing degradation and unrequited affection. But if Xie Yu was thinking of someone else while holding him, he, Shen Ci, would not belittle himself to this extent.
Xie Yu looked at him blankly, struggling to process the meaning. After Shen Ci repeatedly pressed him, his muddled brain vaguely remembered something, and he murmured, “You… are Mr. Porcelain.”
Shen Ci abruptly let go.
…Mr. Porcelain?
He certainly remembered that term, the safe word they had established on the very first day they met. At the time, Shen Ci had only considered it a humiliating mockery, never imagining it would be the beginning of his downfall.
Xie Yu still remembered.
The coldness between his brows dissipated significantly, replaced by a stunned helplessness. His stiff body also softened, allowing Xie Yu to tug and pull him, embracing him like a bolster.
It was a very close embrace, the warmth of the hug scorching. Xie Yu’s handsome, prominent nose was inches away. Shen Ci stared at it for a long time, then suddenly closed his eyes and leaned in.
He lightly touched Xie Yu’s lips, stealing a kiss that smelled of pine.
—
When Xie Yu woke up the next day, he had a splitting headache.
Back in the day, he was a good drinker at the table, having no problem downing bottles of baijiu. Unfortunately, as his high school days faded, Xie Yu’s alcohol tolerance, like his rebelliousness, vanished, leaving him in the pitiful state of being knocked out by a single bottle.
His forehead throbbed, his temples ached, and the back of his head pulsed with pain. His entire head hurt everywhere. Without checking, he tumbled out of bed and knelt on the carpet.
The carpet was thick and soft. Xie Yu sat down against the bed, his fingers sinking into the plush fibers of the carpet.
…Carpet?
His chaotic, muddled brain finally cleared a little, recalling what happened before he blacked out:
He should have been at Qiongshan Cemetery, paying respects to the original owner’s mother. Afterwards, he had a few drinks. The liquor had a long-lasting kick; he didn’t feel much while drinking, but after standing up and walking around a bit, he completely blacked out.
And now?
He looked around: a luxurious hotel, a top-floor suite, huge floor-to-ceiling windows, and a fan-shaped bathtub. Outside, the sun was bright, and the sky was an endless azure.
It was his original hotel suite.
If his phone hadn’t clearly displayed the date, Xie Yu would have thought he’d died drinking at the cemetery and restarted directly at the beginning of the plot.
The system’s faint voice came through: “Host, you’re awake?”
Xie Yu: “How did I get here?”
The system continued faintly, “Yeah, how did you get here?”
“Who brought you back? What happened last night? Don’t you remember anything you did to the person who brought you back?”
It was very displeased that its host had blacked out and lost his memory, leaving it alone to face Shen Ci, and spoke with barbed sarcasm.
Xie Yu didn’t have the energy to bicker. He rubbed his temples, weakly saying, “How would I know so much? My head hurts so bad… Don’t you have that, what’s-it, that pain-shielding system? Hurry up and give me some.”
His brain was about to explode.
The system shook its head: “I can only target plot-related pain, like finger-breaking. This kind of pain is beyond my capabilities.”
Xie Yu: “…What good are you to me?”
Under the effects of the hangover, Xie Yu really didn’t have the energy to think much. He painstakingly straightened his body, his face pale, large beads of sweat rolling down his jaw, and the back of his clothes soaked.
Now even the system didn’t dare to be sarcastic: “Host, are you in a lot of pain?”
“Nonsense.” Xie Yu took a deep breath, his vision spinning. He tried to banter with the system to distract himself: “System, are you sure plot-related pain won’t go wrong?”
Although the plot was low-key collapsing at the moment, Shen Ci’s actions were not just inconsistent with the original text but utterly unrelated. However, Xie Yu and the system had repeatedly confirmed that their plot compatibility was 65%, meaning there were many small deviations but no major ones, and theoretically, the ending wouldn’t deviate significantly either. The system had confidently told him that the current situation was temporary, not a big problem, and would eventually return to the right track.
Returning to the right track meant there would still be plot points like finger-breaking. Fingers are connected to the heart, and the pain of breaking them is incomparable to ordinary pain. If the system malfunctioned then, Xie Yu would be furious.
The system was very displeased with his skepticism: “I am a professional system; you cannot question my professionalism… I can let you try.”
A fluorescent blue screen flickered, and the nerves in his left-hand fingers seemed to be suddenly withdrawn.
The system said coolly, “Try bending them. If you feel even a little pain, I lose.”
“Can they be fixed after bending?”
“I’ll correct them for you after you bend them; it’s free.”
When in pain, people often do things to distract themselves, such as biting their lower lip or pinching themselves during torture. Although it only makes the body hurt more, it does have a certain placebo effect.
Xie Yu was drenched in cold sweat. He grasped his fingers, trying to concentrate his energy on this area. The sensation under his fingertips was incredibly strange, like malleable Play-Doh, soft but lacking elasticity. A press would leave an indentation; it was completely unlike the texture of human skin. He tentatively bent it outwards, and his bones emitted a crisp crack; then the joint dislocated, and a segment of his finger dangled limply.
It genuinely didn’t hurt, not even one percent of his headache.
However, before the system could reattach his finger, the room door was suddenly pulled open with force, the metal hinges groaning under the strain. Xie Yu, pale-faced, looked up to see Shen Ci standing in the doorway, his brow dark, his face livid, and a pair of dark tea-colored eyes fixed on him, concealing countless sorrows.
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Oh my… misunderstandings are definitely about to brew lol.