Chapter 49 – Xu Shaoqiu Stumbles Upon a Huge Piece of Gossip
Although the bathroom had frosted glass, you could still make out some outlines. If you looked closely, you could even vaguely distinguish the shape of various body parts.
Don’t ask how Ji Wei knew.
When Yin Sijue finished showering and stepped out of the steaming mist, towel in hand as he dried his hair, he saw his boyfriend sitting on the bed playing a game—face flushed red and lip nervously bitten, like a cooked shrimp.
Leaning over, Yin Sijue saw Ji Wei playing Game for Peace, the mobile version of PUBG.
Gunfire and explosions filled the game, yet Ji Wei didn’t join the battle. Instead, he controlled a chicken that aimlessly wandered around.
“Why are you a chicken?” Yin Sijue asked.
Ji Wei was silent for two seconds. “Because if I die, I’ll turn into a chicken.”
Yin Sijue paused mid-motion with his towel. “Have you played this before?”
“No. I just downloaded it tonight.”
“Shouldn’t your rank be low if you just registered? How did you die so fast?”
“I don’t know!” Ji Wei huffed, angrily tossing his phone to Yin Sijue. “I’m going to shower. You play.”
Catching the phone, Yin Sijue was pulled into the next round with Ji Wei’s teammates.
After opening the controls and getting a feel for them, he parachuted down smoothly with his squad. Though it was his first time playing, the mechanics were similar to PUBG and easy to grasp.
But he quickly realized why Ji Wei had died so fast.
As the sound of running water drifted from the bathroom, Yin Sijue’s focus on the game faded.
The hazy silhouette through the frosted glass was even more tempting than a direct view. A pale arm, slender enough to break with a touch… a waist so thin it could be wrapped in one hand… and the curve just below—
Bang, bang, bang!
The screen went black and white. Barely five minutes in, Yin Sijue’s character had been beaten into a loot box by a bot.
His teammates finally lost patience and turned on their mics:
“Number One, are you fucking sick? I’ve put up with you long enough. And looking at your account, you’re not a bot. What kind of trash skills do you have to pull off this score? Are you a street dog?”
“If you don’t know how to play, go watch a tournament first. The PCL Summer League just ended—watch Solve’s gameplay videos. Even those will carry you through low-tier matches.”
Yin Sijue: “…”
He typed out an apology in public chat, exited the game, and started clearing spam messages from Ji Wei’s inbox.
Only after he finished deleting did the sound of running water finally stop. The bathroom door opened, and Ji Wei stepped out.
The boy’s lips were pressed tight, his body flushed pink, dressed only in the shorts he’d brought from home. Unlike Yin Sijue, he knew he’d been visible through the frosted glass the entire time, so every move had been made under intense nerves.
Yin Sijue’s eyes lingered on those pink knees and slender ankles before he said softly, “Come here. I’ll blow dry your hair.”
Ji Wei muttered, “Your hair isn’t even dry yet. You didn’t even wait until I showered to blow dry it. Now we’re fighting over a hairdryer…”
Yin Sijue pulled him closer. “Didn’t you ask me to play games?”
“Oh, right.” Ji Wei suddenly remembered and looked around. “Where’s the game? Where’s my phone? You died that fast?”
Yin Sijue looked at him calmly. “What do you think?”
Ji Wei: “…”
He didn’t dare say another word until his hair was dry.
When the boy’s fine hair was only slightly damp, Yin Sijue reached out and rubbed it.
“You’re done. Don’t be shy. I didn’t see anything.”
“…You’re the best.” Ji Wei blushed and took the hairdryer. “I’ll help you with yours, too.”
Yin Sijue unplugged the power cord. “No need, I’m almost finished. Let’s get down to business.”
“What exactly do you want me to agree to?”
Ji Wei thought this man was impossible. “How can a loser be so eager to be punished?”
In front of him, Ji Wei’s body was still warm, a drop of water clinging to his collarbone. Yin Sijue reached out to wipe it away, twisting it between his fingertips as he said meaningfully:
“Who knows? Maybe it’s not a punishment for me.”
After a pause, Ji Wei’s gaze shifted away. He spoke haltingly. “It’s nothing, really. I… want a photo of your ID.”
Yin Sijue froze, not expecting that. “An ID photo?”
“Yeah.” Ji Wei felt a little embarrassed and began to regret the bet he’d made in the heat of the moment. “I just… saw on Weibo the other day that a pro player in Europe had a photo of his girlfriend sewn into his uniform, so I wanted to ask you for one.”
Yin Sijue raised his eyebrows. “But I haven’t taken an ID photo in years.”
Ji Wei bit his lip and lowered his head, unable to meet his eyes. “Three years ago… I took one.”
“Three years ago?” Yin Sijue frowned, then after a moment, the corner of his lips curved. He leaned closer, amusement glimmering in his eyes.
“You mean the one from my youth training application form when I was seventeen?”
His voice was low, patient, their distance almost nonexistent.
Ji Wei nodded unconsciously.
Yin Sijue chuckled softly. “How do you still remember a photo from so long ago?”
Those half-lidded eyes carried a sharp edge, as though they could pierce straight into someone’s heart. Under that gaze, Ji Wei couldn’t hide a thing. He closed his eyes, voice tinged with self-mockery:
“Because I… I think…”
“Maybe… maybe…”
“I fell in love with you the moment I saw your photo.”
After blurting it out, the boy, unable to bear his racing heartbeat, gently bumped his forehead against Yin Sijue’s and quickly buried himself in his arms, leaving only the tips of his ears exposed—bright red.
Yin Sijue wasn’t about to let him escape. He pinched and kneaded the soft earlobe until it turned an even deeper shade of red, then whispered:
“How old were you then? Fifteen?”
“Why are you so precocious?”
The man in his arms shuddered slightly at the words, shame and anger flooding him. He buried his head into Yin Sijue’s shoulder like an ostrich, unwilling to say another word.
Yin Sijue’s heart felt as though it had been scratched by a kitten—not painful, but an unbearable itch that begged to be soothed.
So he acted, pulling Ji Wei out of his arms and lowering his head to press a gentle kiss against his lips.
Ji Wei’s hand, which had been hanging loosely at his side, suddenly tensed. Then, almost instinctively, he hooked it around Yin Sijue’s neck, tilting his head back to receive the kiss.
They were like two magnets, endlessly drawn together, each touch deepening the attachment between them.
For the first eighteen years of his life, Ji Wei thought gaming was the only thing he could ever become addicted to—but now, clearly, it wasn’t.
Fireworks burst before his eyes. His hand, hooked around Yin Sijue’s neck, slipped limply downward as dizziness from lack of oxygen swept over him.
Just when he felt he might pass out, Yin Sijue finally let him go.
Ji Wei instantly stumbled back three steps, covering his mouth with both hands. “No more kissing, no more kissing! My mouth is numb. If you kiss me again, my lips will look like sausages tomorrow!”
Yin Sijue tilted his head, unbothered. “What should I do? I haven’t kissed you enough yet.”
He sat lazily on the bed, hands at his sides. His cold, handsome features softened, carrying the faintest hint of pleading.
No one could refuse Yin Sijue when he looked like this, Ji Wei thought.
He walked over and sat beside him, tilting his head to one side, revealing his slender, pale neck.
“…Then you can kiss my neck.”
At once, Yin Sijue’s eyes darkened.
Ji Wei didn’t dare look at him, his gaze drifting downward. The words were meant as a compromise, yet they carried the weight of unconscious seduction.
Yin Sijue reached out and caressed the delicate, fair skin, as if testing its softness. With the slightest pressure, the flesh under his palm flushed pink.
A suffocating heat spread from Ji Wei’s neck all the way to his mind. His eyes half-closed, still fixed submissively on Yin Sijue, silently offering whatever he wanted.
In a trance, Ji Wei recalled the dream he’d had when he first joined the team. In that dream, Yin Sijue had pinched his neck in the same way and whispered in his ear.
What then?
Before Ji Wei could remember how the dream continued, the pressure on his neck suddenly eased. Yin Sijue stood up and walked toward the bathroom without looking back.
Ji Wei’s face flushed red. Already guessing what was happening, he deliberately asked, “What are you doing?”
Yin Sijue turned his head and glanced down at the slight bulge between Ji Wei’s legs. “What do you think?”
“…”
Ignoring the teasing in Yin Sijue’s tone, Ji Wei stepped forward with determination. “I’ll help you.”
His eyes were clouded with desire, yet he unconsciously clamped his legs together, as though trying to hide it.
Even now, he was still thinking of helping someone else.
Yin Sijue looked at him through lowered lashes, but instead of answering, he pulled Ji Wei into the bathroom, pressed him against the frosted glass, and tugged at his shorts.
…
Professional gamers, after years of using keyboards, often develop calluses on their fingers.
Ji Wei had seen close-up photos of Yin Sijue’s hands before. A hand-obsessed blogger on Weibo had once compiled a gallery—slender and well-proportioned, with clearly defined joints and no flaws, even under high-definition cameras.
Ji Wei had always thought his hands were flawless.
Until today.
…
Heat coursed through his body as his back pressed against the cold wall, only to be pulled back again by Yin Sijue’s hand.
The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt, as though his body were floating, light and unmoored.
As tears slid down his pale chin, Yin Sijue finally let him go, pressing a piece of tissue into his palm.
Ji Wei raised his head, panting, one hand braced against the wall. Despite the soreness in his body, still clinging to the spirit of mutual assistance, he reached out to Yin Sijue.
But Yin Sijue didn’t let him. Instead, he turned Ji Wei by the shoulders and walked him straight out of the bathroom.
Almost immediately, the sound of water splashing echoed from inside.
Ji Wei stood there for a while, then glanced at the mirror by the door. His face was flushed crimson.
Looking closer, he noticed a faint mark on his neck.
If he went out like this, people would know.
Using that as his excuse, he crossed the room and threw himself onto Yin Sijue’s bed.
…
After an unknown amount of time, Yin Sijue stepped out of the bathroom. The blush from earlier was gone; his expression was calm, composed.
Seeing Ji Wei still there, he was slightly surprised. He walked over, sat at the bedside, and poked at the figure hiding under the quilt. “Why didn’t you go home?”
Ji Wei peeked out, then crawled over and leaned against him. “I wanted to be with you.”
The moment his cheek touched Yin Sijue’s collarbone, he flinched at the chill. Looking up in surprise, he blurted, “You took a cold shower?!”
“Yeah.” Yin Sijue tucked him back into the covers. “It’s fine in summer.”
“How can that be? Didn’t you have a fever earlier?” Ji Wei leapt out from under the covers. “I’ll order some takeout and medicine. What if you get sick again?”
He had only taken a few steps before a hand wrapped around his waist, pulling him back onto the bed.
“It’s too late. Don’t bother the delivery guy.” Yin Sijue forcefully held him in his arms.
“Go to sleep. I’m turning off the lights.”
Ji Wei struggled a little but soon gave in. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel uncomfortable. Instead, he nestled into Yin Sijue’s chest.
“Okay, good night then.”
…
The next day.
It must have been windy last night—fallen leaves were scattered outside the window. The two of them slept until noon. Sunlight poured into the room, and Yin Sijue slowly stirred awake.
He rolled over, adjusting his posture, only to feel his throat unusually stuffy.
A bad premonition swept over him. Pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, he leaned toward Ji Wei, who was still sleeping soundly. Comparing their temperatures, he realized his own was far too high.
He stared up at the ceiling, speechless. As expected—he’d ignored Ji Wei’s warning, and now he was paying the price.
He shouldn’t have taken that cold shower. Now he had a fever.
Not wanting to infect Ji Wei, Yin Sijue quietly shifted away, resisting the boy’s instinctive cling.
Ji Wei, still asleep, curled up with his head against Yin Sijue’s chest, arms wrapped around his waist like a child.
Yin Sijue lowered his gaze to his defenseless sleeping face—so innocent it hurt to look at. His pale skin carried a fragile beauty.
With a soft sigh, Yin Sijue carefully lifted Ji Wei’s arm from his waist.
Ji Wei was light, and the moment his wrist was moved, he stirred awake, blinking sleepily at the man beside him.
Looking at that just-woken face, Yin Sijue almost bent down to kiss him. But remembering the fever, he instead pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Ji Wei’s head.
Almost instantly, Ji Wei noticed the heat radiating from him. Frowning, he reached out to touch his forehead.
A second later, Ji Wei shot upright in bed, his messy hair sticking up. “You have a fever?”
Yin Sijue opened his mouth, but a cough slipped out, startling Ji Wei so much he tumbled right out of bed.
“Take medicine—quickly! I’ll get it for you!”
Yin Sijue said helplessly, “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Put your slippers on first.”
But Ji Wei, in his panic, shoved only one foot into a shoe and rushed toward the door.
The door opened to reveal Xu Shaoqiu, who had come to call everyone to brunch.
Ji Wei: ?
Xu Shaoqiu: ?
Xu Shaoqiu glanced at the room number, then at Ji Wei. “If I remember correctly… this should be Solve’s room?”
The words trailed off as the memory of what he’d seen last night came flooding back. His expression grew complicated.
These two… progressing this quickly? Or have they been at it for a while already? Were they sneaking around at the base all along?
Ji Wei had no time for embarrassment. He grabbed Xu Shaoqiu’s shoulder in desperation.
“Brother Qiu, do you have any spare medicine in the car? Fever reducers, anything?”
“Yes, I do, I’ll go get it for you…” Xu Shaoqiu had just pulled out his car keys when his gaze suddenly snapped to Ji Wei. His eyes drifted downward, noticing the ambiguous red marks on his neck, the rumpled sleeves of his shirt, and the fact that he was only wearing one slipper.
Xu Shaoqiu’s pupils shook. He hadn’t slept a wink last night and had spent hours researching random trivia about gay relationships. It didn’t take long for him to realize exactly what this situation looked like.
Furious, Xu Shaoqiu said, “You’re the one with a fever? Damn it, how old are you? And Solve—how could he be such a bastard? Move, I’m going to curse him out right now!”
“No,” Ji Wei quickly shook his head, feeling that Xu Shaoqiu was acting weird today—talking nonsense and moving so slowly. So he clarified outright:
“It’s Solve who has the fever. Brother Qiu, just give me the car keys. I’ll go get the medicine myself.”
Xu Shaoqiu fell silent again. The hand holding the keys froze midair, his expression turning even more horrified before gradually shifting into something complicated—like he’d just stumbled onto the juiciest, most unbelievable gossip of his life.
“So you’re saying… you two slept in the same room last night, the whole night… and then Solve ended up with a fever?”
Oh my god.