Chapter 88 – This Is Destiny
The next morning.
The sky had yet to brighten, but a pale layer of light was already slipping quietly through the curtains, falling across Yin Sijue’s sleepless eyes.
He rubbed his brow, blinked his dry eyes, and decided to cancel today’s workout plan.
Ji Wei was still fast asleep, a small figure curled up beside him. The hem of his pajama shirt had ridden up, revealing a sliver of shockingly pale, slender waist. His long lashes trembled faintly in the sunlight, as though on the verge of waking. Half-consciously, he rolled toward the shadows—straight into Si Jue’s arms.
Dust motes drifted in the light, like all those unspoken words, suspended in the narrow space where their breaths mingled.
Yin Sijue let out a quiet sigh, tugged Ji Wei’s shirt down for him, and let him rest against his chest, closing his eyes in a shallow doze.
When he opened them again, daylight had already filled the room.
Ji Wei slowly stirred awake from sleep. Just as he was about to scratch his belly, his hand brushed against something firm, and his cheek was pressed against a warm surface.
It took him a while to process it.
Oh—right. He’d fallen asleep in Yin Sijue’s bed last night.
But the current situation was—
Wait, what the hell!? Why am I stuck to him!?
He was just about to slip away unnoticed when he looked up—right into Yin Sijue’s open eyes, clear and wakeful.
Ji Wei: = =!
When did he wake up? What kind of timing was that!?
Yin Sijue’s eyes were faintly red, his expression a little pale; he clearly hadn’t slept well. A faint shadow darkened the skin beneath his eyes. He blinked once, a smile ghosting at the corner of his lips as he looked at Ji Wei.
Ji Wei pulled out of his arms, studied him for a moment, and asked anxiously, “You didn’t sleep well? Did I wake you?”
“No,” Yin Sijue paused for a second, then casually offered, “I had a cup of coffee before bed.”
Ji Wei stared blankly.
Who even drinks coffee before sleeping? What kind of niche hobby was that?
But Yin Sijue didn’t give him any chance to ask further. He stood up and went straight to the bathroom to wash up.
Ji Wei sat up on the bed, yawned hugely, and stared vacantly out the window until his sleepiness faded.
The curtains hadn’t been closed properly last night, so he’d woken up an hour earlier than usual. Still groggy, he rubbed his eyes, slid off the bed, and shuffled to wash up.
Ji Wei sat up in bed, let out a huge yawn, and stared blankly out the window for a while, waiting for his sleepiness to fade.
The curtains hadn’t been fully drawn last night, so he woke up about an hour earlier than usual. Still groggy, he rubbed his face, slid off the bed, and went to wash up.
Because he wasn’t fully awake, his foot caught the corner of the bedframe. His little toe bent at a ninety-degree angle, and a sharp wave of pain shot up his leg.
“Ugh—!” Ji Wei gasped, collapsing back onto the bed, his eyes instantly welling up red.
The bathroom door burst open. Yin Sijue still had droplets of water on his face. “What happened?”
“I… I hit my foot on the bed. It hurts so bad!” Ji Wei hugged his right leg, curling up on the edge of the bed. His fair, rounded toes scrunched together, his expression small and pitiful.
Yin Sijue hurried over, dropped to one knee, and lifted Ji Wei’s foot onto his lap.
“W–wait a second!”
Before Ji Wei could stop him, Yin Sijue had already taken hold of his toes and began gently rubbing them.
“Does this help?”
Ji Wei froze. All the blood in his body seemed to rush to the spot where Yin Sijue’s hand held his foot, his heartbeat growing louder and faster.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore… it just really stung at first.”
“I…” Ji Wei stammered, his voice trembling. “I just woke up… I haven’t washed my feet yet.”
Yin Sijue’s expression didn’t change. His gaze lowered, falling right on Ji Wei’s snow-pale foot — the smooth arch, the round toes curling shyly, even the nails tinted a faint pink.
His eyes darkened. After a pause, he placed Ji Wei’s ankle gently back on the floor and, after a long moment, finally spoke.
“It’s fine. Get up — time for training.”
…
Yin Sijue looked like a calm, steady person — cold as ice on the surface — but in truth, his moods were anything but predictable.
That was the conclusion Ji Wei reached as he sat at his computer, opening a game.
He’d looked so gentle this morning, even massaged Ji Wei’s foot after he got hurt, but then turned around and went downstairs without a word, not even waiting for him!
Completely baffling!
Ji Wei pursed his lips until they turned pale.
Could it be that Yin Sijue thought touching my foot was embarrassing? Or… did he find it gross?
Still sulking, he logged into the game. Lao Ma had paired him with Milly for duo matches today. They played on the desert map, and things went much smoother than yesterday — they even scored several consecutive wins.
By the time they wrapped up around five in the afternoon, Ji Wei had won back all the points he’d lost with Da Shu the day before. He took off his headset and let out a long breath of relief.
Although it was painful, he still had to keep practicing with Da Shu for now — to make up for his weakness.
He was debating whether to queue with Da Shu again tonight or wait until tomorrow, when a voice beside him drew his attention away.
“East 156 — enemy spotted.”
“Got him. Don’t come over.”
Yin Sijue was clearly talking to someone. His tone was calm, the words short, blending with the crisp rhythm of his keyboard, yet it was impossible for Ji Wei not to notice.
He had sharp eyes. From where he sat, he could clearly see Yin Sijue’s screen — a teammate named Rex in the voice chat, mic icon flashing constantly. They were obviously playing together.
Ji Wei turned his gaze back to his own dark, idle monitor. He stared at it for a long time, until his eyes started to sting. The good mood he’d had from that afternoon’s string of wins quietly vanished.
“Unique, are we still queuing tonight?” Milly asked beside him.
“Yeah, sure.” Ji Wei’s voice sounded distant. “I’m gonna grab a drink.”
He filled a cup with cold water, added a few ice cubes, and took a small sip while standing by the water dispenser.
He had actually planned to duo with Yin Sijue tonight.
According to AVG’s rules, if there wasn’t a scrim scheduled in the evening, everyone was free to form their own teams. He didn’t have to follow Lao Ma’s suggestion to play with Milly.
But it seemed Yin Sijue already had someone else.
A tight, aching feeling spread through Ji Wei’s chest — not sharp, but steady and suffocating. He couldn’t understand it.
It wasn’t unusual to have multiple gaming partners; there was nothing wrong with that. So why did it hurt? He’d been rejected for duo matches before and never felt anything like this.
Night had deepened. The distant hum of the city filtered faintly through the window, leaving behind a low, muffled sound — like background static. It only made the quiet in the room feel even heavier.
Ji Wei gripped his cup tightly, knuckles white, leaning against the wall with a trace of loneliness in his posture.
Then, slowly, it dawned on him — he wasn’t upset because Yin Sijue might turn him down.
He was upset because Yin Sijue was playing with someone else.
His lips trembled faintly as he exhaled, and for the first time, all the strange emotions of the past few days seemed to make sense.
He remembered how his heart had jumped when he first saw that ID photo, remembered that dream he could never bring himself to mention, remembered how his pulse would always lose its rhythm whenever Si Jue leaned close.
He should’ve realized it sooner.
Ji Wei lifted his cup — just ordinary ice water — but it felt impossible to swallow.
What he felt for Yin Sijue… it had never been about possessiveness.
…
Around that time, the nearby dorm rooms were beginning to stir — it was almost dinner hour.
By the time Ji Wei had sorted out his emotions and returned to the training room, it was already close to dinner.
The auntie had made da lu mian — noodles with savory gravy — and the rich aroma had spread so far that everyone could smell it from a distance.
Yin Sijue had just left his squad after Rex logged off and was about to go find Ji Wei when he saw him coming out of the break room.
The boy’s head was lowered, looking a little downcast, like a mushroom drenched in rain. But the moment he looked up and saw Yin Sijue, he quickly hid his feelings and forced a small smile.
Yin Sijue’s brows furrowed ever so slightly. For some reason, a faint ache stirred in his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, lowering his gaze.
Ji Wei worked hard to erase the heaviness from his eyes and shook his head obediently.
Yin Sijue was silent for two seconds, then patted him lightly on the back. “Come on, let’s eat.”
Dinner went on as usual — everyone joked around, ate their fill, and went back to training.
Yin Sijue had planned to invite someone for duo queue afterward, but before he could even open his mouth, he saw the person he meant to invite already in Milly’s team.
“…”
His jaw tightened slightly. Staring coldly at the status of unique — showing [in a Team] — he put on a calm face, switched to his alt account, and queued for solo squad mode.
When PUBG first launched, it was often labeled a “bloody” game — gunfire came with splattering effects, and when a player was shot, the impact and recoil were brutally realistic.
A first-person shooter like this could, in a way, vent emotions — even satisfy certain unspoken urges.
Yet after an entire evening of farming kills and racking up win after win, Yin Sijue didn’t feel the least bit happy.
He closed the stats page showing an average of twenty kills per match. His teammates had already logged off, heading back to their rooms to sleep.
Ji Wei hastily shoved his hard drive into his bag, clearly eager to escape the training room — now empty except for the two of them. He needed some private space to sort out the mess of feelings in his chest.
Yin Sijue didn’t stop him. He just watched as Ji Wei, flustered and hasty, rushed up the stairs — only to run straight into their shared room.
A faint smirk tugged at Yin Sijue’s lips. The gloom in his eyes eased a little, even replaced by a trace of smugness. He cast a glance at Milly’s empty seat.
So what if they queued together?
He still has to come back and sleep next to me.
Yin Sijue gave a quiet hum, stretching his fingers as he sauntered upstairs — ready to tease that moody little cat waiting in their room.
When messy emotions crowd the mind, the best way to calm down is to find something to do — something simple and mechanical that doesn’t take much thought.
Ji Wei chose to take a shower.
The moment he entered the room, he rushed straight into the bathroom, standing under the shower as warm water cascaded over his head, washing away the chaos in his thoughts.
By the time he was done, he felt as if his emotions had been rinsed clean — as if he could finally face those strange feelings calmly.
Confident, he pushed open the bathroom door—
—and came face-to-face with the very person who had been haunting his thoughts all evening.
Yin Sijue was sitting on the sofa, unmoving, his chin resting lightly on one hand, eyes lifted in quiet intent. It wasn’t a casual glance — it was as clear as if he were saying: I’ve been waiting for you.
Caught off guard by his gaze, Ji Wei froze. All the composure he’d gained over the past thirty minutes shattered instantly. There wasn’t even time to pretend otherwise.
He stood there for a few seconds, unsure what to say. “Uh… are you… going to shower?”
“In a bit,” Yin Sijue said, looking at him seriously. “Come here first.”
Ji Wei: “…”
His bare feet slid slowly across the floor as if glued to it. Step by reluctant step, he finally made it to the sofa — only to perch himself on the armrest, as far away from Yin Sijue as possible.
Yin Sijue let out a soft laugh through his nose and stood up. He walked over and sat right beside Ji Wei, his gaze lowering slightly. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”
Ji Wei froze. He hadn’t expected to be seen through so easily. Trying to play it off, he blurted, “Nothing.”
Yin Sijue didn’t believe him. “Then why didn’t you duo with me tonight?”
Ji Wei lied with a straight face. “Lao Ma told me to team up with someone else…”
Yin Sijue crossed his arms, cutting him off mid-sentence. “That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t play even one match with me.”
Then his lashes lowered, and he let out a small, disappointed sigh. “I played solo all night.”
Hearing that sigh, Ji Wei’s heart gave a sharp twist. After a moment of silence, he couldn’t help but mumble, “I thought… you already had someone to play with.”
“Who?” Yin Sijue asked.
Ji Wei muttered under his breath, “That… Rex guy…”
Yin Sijue’s gaze lingered on the tips of Ji Wei’s ears — flushed a deep red — and a knowing smile curved his lips.
“I added him back when I was climbing the Korean leaderboard,” Yin Sijue explained, his tone light. The frustration from earlier had completely disappeared. “He told me this afternoon he’d been losing rank, and since you were already duoing with Milly, I just played a couple of rounds with him.”
As if worried Ji Wei might still mind, he added with a small smile, “But you’re always my first choice. I really wanted to play with you.”
“Oh.” Ji Wei’s face was crimson, expression stiff as he looked away.
He wanted to say that wasn’t what he meant — but Yin Sijue’s last words made him quietly happy.
It seemed he really did matter, after all.
Having his feelings caught so precisely made Ji Wei feel as though he’d just lost an argument. Not willing to admit defeat, he muttered under his breath, “But you didn’t even ask me first before agreeing to play with him.”
It was a completely unreasonable complaint. That afternoon, Ji Wei had been following the coach’s training schedule with Milly — Si Jue hadn’t even had a chance to ask him. There was no “asking first” to begin with.
He regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth. Turning his face away in embarrassment, the tips of his ears flushed red. “That’s… not what I meant.”
“Sorry,” Yin Sijue said gently. His voice was calm, even warm — clearly in a good mood, not angry at all over Ji Wei’s unreasonable tone.
His eyes lingered on the soft red of Ji Wei’s earlobes. His fingers twitched slightly before he asked, in a low, serious voice, “Next time someone invites me to play, should I ask you first?”
“I’ll only agree if you say yes.”
Ji Wei: “…”
Something about that sounded off — but he couldn’t quite say what. His whole body felt numb, his mind frozen, breathing quick and shallow. He could only stammer out a confused, “O-okay…”
The bedroom sank into quiet darkness.
Only the low hum of the air conditioner filled the air, steady and insistent. The curtains weren’t fully drawn, and a sliver of faint city light slipped through the gap, outlining the edge of the bed in a soft glow.
Yin Sijue looked at Ji Wei’s obedient profile, then shifted his gaze toward the window. He was silent for a long time before finally speaking.
“Ji Wei.”
The boy blinked, confused, and turned his head.
Yin Sijue’s eyes were still lost somewhere in the night outside. It took him a few seconds to look back. “What I’m about to say might upset you,” he began quietly, “but I don’t mean to make you sad. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”
Ji Wei didn’t fully understand, but he nodded along anyway.
Yin Sijue spoke slowly, his words hesitant, as if still searching for the right way to say them — but he clearly didn’t want Ji Wei to misunderstand.
“Some things… might be a little too soon for you. You’re still young, and maybe your feelings aren’t entirely clear yet. I can’t just pull you into something before you’re ready.”
A taut string in Ji Wei’s heart was plucked sharply. His breath hitched, and he blurted, anxious, “I do know what I feel—”
Yin Sijue cut him off gently. “The world championship is coming up. We joined this team because we wanted to win that title together, remember?”
He paused, then clasped Ji Wei’s hand carefully — tenderly — and said, coaxing, “Wait until you’re an adult, okay?”
Ji Wei’s eyes reddened instantly. He’d never hated his age so much before.
What hurt even more was that Yin Sijue was only nineteen — yet he was always the one thinking ahead, always the one being careful for both of them.
Biting back tears, Ji Wei’s lips trembled as he pulled his hand free. “Alright… I promise.”
Yin Sijue didn’t let Ji Wei pull away. His fingers slid down from Ji Wei’s palm and lightly pinched the tip of his finger. Unable to hold back, he said softly,
“If someone confesses to you during this time…”
“You’re not allowed to say yes.”
It felt as if a thin string in Ji Wei’s heart had been tugged. He tried hard to keep the corners of his lips from curling up, pretending not to understand. “Why not?”
Yin Sijue was direct and unflinching. “Because you’re already reserved by me.”
…
After a confession like that, it didn’t feel right for the two of them to keep sharing one bed. They wordlessly walked to the balcony and brought back the extra bedsheet.
Yin Sijue helped Ji Wei spread the freshly washed sheet over the mattress, then went to take a shower. By the time he came out, Ji Wei was already fast asleep.
Emotional highs and lows could be exhausting — but at least tonight had ended on a happy note. Ji Wei slept quietly, his lips curving up from time to time, as if caught in a pleasant dream.
Yin Sijue gently pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, then lay down and checked his unread messages.
Rex: [Brother, that game was insane! Wanna queue again tomorrow afternoon?]
Rex: [Hello?? You there?? Double queue tomorrow?]
S: [Don’t know.]
Rex: [? Don’t know what?? Where were you, why’re you replying so late??]
Yin Sijue yawned, typed lazily, and set his phone aside.
S: [I’ll check tomorrow. Stop messaging me in the middle of the night.]
Rex: [?]
…
Two years later.
The veteran team AVG once again claimed the PGC Global Championship, becoming the youngest roster in history to win back-to-back titles.
Ever since the lineup change two years ago, the team had entered a golden era — debuting with a championship, collecting trophies one after another, and amassing an overwhelming number of fans.
Among the most popular were [Unique] and [Solve] — one the league’s strongest sniper, the other a top-tier fragger. Their coordination was unmatched, and they once pulled off a legendary feat in which the two of them, as the last survivors, defeated four full enemy squads.
According to informed Chinese fans, the two players had once been top-ranked masters on the Asian leaderboard and had known each other since they were young—practically inseparable.
That “childhood friends” dynamic drew in a massive crowd of diehard CP fans, all loudly declaring how sweet it was.
On the night of their championship win, AVG rented out one of the most luxurious bars in London.
Music pulsed through the air as everyone swayed along, neon lights flickering in the hazy, feverish atmosphere, painting ghostly afterimages across the room.
Behind the bar, the bartender’s movements blurred into streaks of light, his arms swinging in practiced arcs. Empty glasses piled up like seashells left behind after the tide recedes.
The celebration, sealed off by thick walls, fermented in the warm, hazy, beer-scented air—turning into a kind of timeless intoxication that belonged solely to this moment.
Ji Wei pushed his empty glass of wheat juice forward and slumped lazily back in his chair.
Perfect.
He had never been one for crowds.
More often than not, he preferred sitting quietly on the sidelines, watching others play.
There was something soothing about feeling apart from the noise, standing just outside the warmth of the group.
After a while, he grew restless. Supporting himself on the chair back, he stood up and made his way through the noisy crowd toward the door.
Nighttime London felt like a heavy, soaked wool coat draped over the shoulders—damp and oppressive.
The streetlights were a murky orange-yellow, their glow sifted through mist, fraying into soft halos that hovered weakly over the rain-slick cobblestones.
The air was dense and wet; every breath seemed to draw in a ball of cold, dusty cotton laced with the deep, earthy smell of the Thames.
Through the small, fogged-up bar window, the light inside looked like a trembling oil painting.
Ji Wei leaned against the wall outside and stretched his arms lazily.
Then, someone called out behind him.
A blond foreign boy with sharp, handsome features came rushing over, eyes shining with excitement.
“Unique?”
As Ji Wei had grown older, his looks had only become more striking—his once-cute face maturing into a breathtaking kind of beauty, the kind that drew the eye effortlessly. He looked like a rare, purebred Persian cat.
It wasn’t surprising that he had a huge fanbase drawn to his looks; even people who had never played PUBG before had fallen into the game because of him.
Still, being recognized on the street abroad was rare.
Ji Wei blinked at the blond boy in surprise, then nodded politely.
The boy began gesturing wildly, speaking in a rush of excited gibberish.
“Ja%duie@?”
What? Ji Wei laughed awkwardly and replied in the universal language of survival: “Ha… uh… th-thank you.”
Encouraged by his response, the blond boy launched into another barrage of rapid-fire speech—his words flying faster than an AKM’s rate of fire.
Ji Wei was completely lost. The thick London accent didn’t help; his English comprehension, never great to begin with, was sinking fast. All he could do was nod and smile along with the rhythm of the other’s voice.
But the next second, the boy suddenly reached out and grabbed his hand—
There was a sharp slap! as someone pulled the blond boy away and yanked Ji Wei firmly behind them.
Ji Wei stumbled slightly and reached out to steady himself on the person’s arm, his gaze lifting lazily to the familiar figure in front of him—Yin Sijue.
Following the broad line of his shoulders, Ji Wei could see the blond boy’s indignant expression as he spoke rapidly and gestured animatedly toward him. The boy’s tone was firm, his confidence unmistakable.
Yin Sijue listened quietly, then slowly turned his head, his gaze unreadable.
“He said you agreed to go home with him. Is that true?”
Ji Wei: “?”
He stared in disbelief, completely lost on how the topic had turned into that. He waved his hands frantically.
“No! I didn’t! I didn’t even understand what he was saying!”
“Thought so.” Yin Sijue turned back to the blond boy and spoke a few calm sentences in English.
But the boy still refused to back down—he took several steps forward, trying to reach past Yin Sijue to grab Ji Wei’s hand again.
Yin Sijues arm shot out, pulling Ji Wei firmly behind him. His face darkened, his tone low and heavy with warning.
After a short pause, he added, “He’s mine.”
He’s mine.
The damp night breeze carried the words to Ji Wei’s ears, making him shiver involuntarily.
He understood them perfectly.
…
By the time he came back to his senses, ten minutes had passed. The fan was long gone, and Yin Sijue stood silently beside him, still as a statue.
What kind of person drops a bomb like that and then says nothing afterward? Ji Wei kicked a pebble by his foot and couldn’t help asking, “What did you say to him just now?”
Yin Sijue slipped his phone out of his pocket, typed a few words lazily, and replied, “I listed a few British laws for him—and warned that if he harassed you again, I’d call the police.”
Ji Wei: “…”
“Not that part,” he pressed, his voice low, “I mean… was there something else?”
Yin Sijue didn’t answer. His lashes lowered slightly as he looked at Ji Wei, a faint, teasing smile tugging at his lips.
Across the street, a 24-hour café still glowed softly.
Condensation beaded on its windows, turning the silhouettes inside into blurred shadows.
Now and then, someone would push open the door, releasing a wave of coffee scent and laughter—only to be swallowed by the night again moments later.
No one noticed the two boys standing close together outside the bar, their silhouettes almost overlapping.
Ji Wei stepped forward, stubbornly closing the space between them until there was barely room for air.
“Why won’t you answer me?”
Yin Sijue didn’t say anything.
Time flowed quietly between them. The light from the streetlamp bled into the damp night air like orange paint soaked in water, spreading in blurred circles that softened the darkness—and blurred Ji Wei’s eyes too.
He waited, feeling a little dizzy.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just him—because whenever Yin Sijue looked at him like that, Ji Wei’s mind turned to mush.
No one knew how much time passed before the distant chime of Big Ben drifted over. The sound was filtered through the mist, distorted and faint, like it came from a century away.
And with the bells came Yin Sijue’s low, wavering voice—soft, almost ethereal—each word sinking into Ji Wei’s heart one by one.
“It’s midnight back home. Ji Wei, happy birthday.”
“You’re eighteen now. Be with me.”
Before Ji Wei could react, Yin Sijue leaned forward and captured his slightly parted lips.
Ji Wei froze—his breath stolen by the sudden rush of heat. He didn’t know how to resist; his lips parted helplessly as Yin Sijue’s kiss deepened, devouring every trace of air between them.
His eyes were gentle, but the kiss was fierce, overwhelming—so consuming that Ji Wei thought he might drown in it. Only when he was nearly breathless did Yin Sijue finally release him, his hand still firm at the back of Ji Wei’s neck.
As they parted, a thin strand of silver bridged their lips. Yin Sijue bit lightly at Ji Wei’s lower lip before letting go.
That seemed to wake Ji Wei from his daze—he stumbled back several steps, hands flying up to cover his mouth, his face burning scarlet.
For a long moment, he just stood there, then lowered one trembling hand to point accusingly at Yin Sijue.
“You—you—you—”
Yin Sijue looked utterly unbothered, even licking the corner of his lips with a trace of satisfaction.
“What about me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ji Wei opened his mouth but no words came out; his thoughts were in chaos, his whole body radiating heat.
“You—you kissed me before I even said yes!”
Si Jue’s calm never wavered. There was not an ounce of guilt in his expression. He took a slow step toward Ji Wei, then another, until his shadow completely enveloped him.
“You have to understand me,” he murmured.
“I’ve been holding back for almost three years.”
Ji Wei’s lips parted, then pressed together again, his mind an utter mess. He stammered, “But—but you can’t just kiss me like that—”
Yin Sijue’s gaze locked onto him, his tone low and coaxing.
“You already promised me, remember? You were always going to be with me—it was just a matter of time.”
“I… I promised?” Ji Wei’s mind was blank. He couldn’t recall what he’d said before; he just felt dizzy, swept along by Yin Sijue’s certainty.
Yin Sijue’s voice was steady, absolute.
“You did. Which means I can kiss you.”
“…O-okay.”
Ji Wei’s alcohol-fogged brain couldn’t handle deep thinking anymore. He fidgeted with his fingers, somehow finding logic in Yin Sijue’s words.
Yin Sijue’s heart tingled at how adorable he was. Leaning closer, he asked in a soft, coaxing voice, “So… can I kiss you again? To make up for the one I missed before?”
Ji Wei hesitated for a second, then mumbled, “Alright… okay…”
They stood together at the corner outside the bar.
The brick wall shut out the blaring heavy metal music from inside, leaving the street silent and empty. Above them, an old-fashioned wall lamp cast a small pool of warm golden light—just enough to frame their intertwined silhouettes.
Time seemed to dissolve into the London fog.
From afar came the low, muffled toll of a bell, its sound dampened by the heavy night air—distant, hazy, like an echo from another world.
Ji Wei pulled back from the heat of Sijue’s breath, dazed, staring at him through the mist.
This moment felt strangely familiar—
The night air, the cool summer breeze, the dim, muffled noise of the city, and the soft yet resolute confession.
Maybe there really were parallel universes.
And somewhere, in another time and space, he and Yin Sijue were confessing their feelings the same way—
becoming each other’s most unbreakable bond.
The lamplight traced along Yin Sijue’s sharp, handsome features, reflecting like a star in Ji Wei’s eyes, and burned softly against his heart.
If they were destined to find each other in every universe, then this—right here—was fate.
No matter how many hardships they had endured in another life, fate would always lead them back to one another.
Ji Wei stepped forward, slowly took Yin Sijue’s hand, and said in a quiet, trembling voice—
but one steadier than ever before:
“I like you too.”