Chapter 87 – Do You Sleep on the Left or the Right?
“Damn, damn! Unique, there’s a full squad dropping near your side of the housing area! I didn’t get a gun—good luck, you’re on your own!!”
Inside the training room, Da Shu’s scream practically pierced the roof.
Following Lao Ma’s advice, Ji Wei had queued up with someone to play duo matches as soon as he logged on.
But after just two rounds, he only wanted to team up with Yin Sijue again.
What had happened that morning seemed to have been forcibly cut short. Yin Sijue had quietly helped him change the bedsheets, then went downstairs to the training room to start playing—without asking a single question.
Yet Ji Wei couldn’t shake the feeling that something between them had subtly changed.
It wouldn’t even be that hard to explain, really. He’d learned in biology class that wet dreams were a completely normal part of male puberty.
For him, the only embarrassing part was who the person in the dream had been.
But why didn’t Yin Sijue ask him about it?
Ji Wei’s in-game character was crouched inside a room while he sat there lost in thought—so much so that he didn’t even notice four enemies coming up the stairs.
Da Shu glanced at the minimap, panicking.
“Brother, why are you still there?! Run! I can’t save you from this distance!”
“Too late,” Ji Wei said, frowning.
The enemy footsteps were right outside the door. He had to stay perfectly still at the corner of the room, shotgun aimed at the entrance.
From this angle, he was in a visual blind spot. If he could just…
Bang!
The door swung open, and four enemies rushed in one after another.
Before they could react, Ji Wei instantly hit the fire key—blasting down the first one through the doorway.
Then he moved rapidly, dodging their bullets and firing in quick succession. Finally, the last one dropped—
[AVG_Unique] used S12K to knock down [S781273]
[AVG_Unique] used S12K to knock down [$796546]
[AVG_Unique] used S12K to knock down [$765788]
[AVG_Unique] used S12K to kill [5781444]
[Team Wiped]
Da Shu exclaimed, “Holy shit! 1v4, bro? You’re insane!”
“Judging from their IDs, those four were queued together,” Ji Wei said, moving his fingers to open the loot boxes.
“They had an airdrop gun—must’ve just picked it up.”
No sooner had he finished speaking than one of the downed enemies turned on all chat and started yelling furiously:
“kalhwe@shiba#aaaargh!!”
“aaaxisjkfdq@kei sei ki!!!”
The stream of curses was even louder and harsher than Da Shu’s earlier yelling.
Even though Ji Wei couldn’t understand Korean, there was something about the language that just sounded furious—he could instantly get the gist of their emotional state.
“So Koreans really do talk like they do in K-dramas,” he remarked.
Expressionless, Ji Wei controlled his in-game character to stand before the loot box and activated an emote he’d drawn from the store just yesterday.
A moment later, his character straightened its right arm and made a “hold up” gesture—then began swinging its arms side to side, hips moving rhythmically to imaginary music.
As he made his character dance, Ji Wei hummed along softly, “Ke-ni-boo, mi mi mi mi mi, mi mi mi mi mi~”
Da Shu burst out laughing. “Isn’t that the new emote that dropped last week? You got it?”
“I thought you never spent money on games,” he added.
Ji Wei grinned. “Didn’t spend a cent—used the free coins I saved up. One pull, instant win. Mm-hmm.”
Da Shu came running over from far away, eager to loot the boxes. Even before he reached Ji Wei’s building, he could already hear the furious shouts blasting through all chat.
The Koreans, realizing what Ji Wei’s emote meant, got even more triggered—spitting insults like a machine gun.
Da Shu asked, “They’re Korean? Why are they so mad?”
Ji Wei muted all chat and explained casually, “I went full camper mode and ambushed their whole squad.”
“Huh?? Camper mode??” Da Shu’s voice practically cracked in disbelief.
Ji Wei frowned slightly. “What’s wrong with that? Pro players can’t camp?”
“Well, not exactly…” Da Shu scratched his head, still reeling from Ji Wei’s 1v4 performance. “It’s just… I didn’t expect you to play that way. I thought you were all about aggressive gunfights—you used to look down on campers.”
“What’s there to look down on?” Ji Wei said matter-of-factly, handing Da Shu some meds from his inventory.
“If killing people wins the game, then camping’s just another way to win. Honestly? Sneaking up on people’s kinda fun.”
The more Ji Wei thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed. He continued summarizing his “findings”: “This playstyle doesn’t need much movement—just find a good hiding spot, that’s it. Saves ammo, too. I should do this more often.”
Da Shu gave him a horrified look. “A-as long as you’re happy…”
They played all afternoon but didn’t make it into the top five even once.
And they still had more practice to do that night.
If today didn’t go well, he’d have to keep queuing with Da Shu tomorrow.
After Da Shu, it would be Milly next.
Anyone but Yin Sijue .
Ji Wei sighed miserably on the balcony, hands clasped behind his back. He wanted to pour his melancholy heart into a hundred poems—but couldn’t come up with even one line.
…He hadn’t even been out of school that long.
He stood there for a while, gazing at the night outside, trying to calm the irritation that came from losing so many games. Then he turned around, ready to head back to his station and keep practicing.
A breeze passed through the balcony, brushing against the damp bedsheet that hung to dry. The cool fabric grazed his cheek, leaving behind a faint chill.
Ji Wei suddenly froze.
He’d just remembered something important—something that made his entire body go tense with unease.
The bedsheet was washed. The quilt cover was washed.
So where was he supposed to sleep tonight?
…
That uneasy feeling lingered until one in the morning. The question sat in his chest like a tiny thorn—not painful, but sharp enough to prick at him again and again.
Training was finally over. Ji Wei turned off his computer but stayed at his station for ages, fiddling with his keyboard cable at turtle speed.
Yin Sijue, who had been waiting beside him, eventually lost patience. Seeing Ji Wei completely out of it, he reached over and took the keyboard from his hands.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
He slowly straightened the cord, long fingers threading through it as he looped and untangled it, then plugged it back in neatly.
Watching from the side, Ji Wei’s face grew a little hot. His throat bobbed with an audible gulp that sounded especially loud in the quiet training room.
…Oops.
Yin Sijue packed the keyboard away, gave Ji Wei a brief glance, and said calmly, “Come on. Let’s go—time to sleep.”
Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep…
Ji Wei walked upstairs stiffly, his limbs moving in sync, that one sentence looping endlessly in his head—
until his fingers nearly tore a hole through his peripheral bag.
Yin Sijue was the first to push open the bedroom door and head to the bathroom for a shower. Everything seemed no different from usual.
A barely perceptible night breeze slipped quietly through the crack in the window, brushing faintly against the skin and sending a small shiver through the air.
The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Ji Wei stood alone in the room, feeling a little desolate. He clenched his fingers together, thinking that all his tangled thoughts from earlier that evening were a little ridiculous.
No one had said they couldn’t share a bed—he could just sleep on the other one. The bedroom was spacious enough, and it wasn’t like sleeping on the floor wasn’t an option.
Yin Sijue’s bedsheets were a deep gray, as unreadable as the man himself. Ji Wei stood at the bedside for a long time. The light cast his lonely silhouette across the bed, as if he had already lain down there.
But could he really lie there? He didn’t know. There were many things Ji Wei couldn’t figure out. He knew that Yin Sijue was important to him—different from any other friend—but he had no idea what he meant to Yin Sijue.
A gaming partner? A teammate? Or…
Before he could sort out his thoughts, the bathroom door handle turned.
Following the sound, Ji Wei looked up and suddenly realized that Yin Sijue had been in there for a long time. The shower had stopped ages ago—what had he been doing inside?
When Yin Sijue pushed open the door, his hand still on the handle, he saw Ji Wei standing blankly beside his bed.
Under the white incandescent light, Ji Wei’s skin looked almost translucent. The boy’s wide eyes looked up at him, a little pitifully—just like the first time they met.
Bathed in moonlight, Yin Sijue’s gaze softened with a faint glow as he slowly asked:
“Have you decided which side you’re sleeping on?”
“Left, or right?”
…
The night seeped silently through the world outside the window like ink soaking into paper. The ceiling light in the room cast both their shadows onto the glass, overlapping faintly together.
The air seemed to still, the only sound their quiet, uneven breaths echoing in the silence.
Ji Wei took a deep breath, trying to calm his heartbeat. Yin Sijue’s tone was as casual as asking which map they should play next—but Ji Wei knew this wasn’t a question with a real choice.
This was an invitation.
Yin Sijue turned off the ceiling light, leaving only a warm amber bedside lamp. The orange glow spread softly, like melted amber, wrapping the center of the room in a quiet, glimmering stillness.
Left or right—was there really any difference? Ji Wei, almost fleeing, walked toward the bathroom, his breath uneven. “You choose first,” he said quickly. “I’m going to shower.”
Soon, the sound of running water came from the bathroom—a sound of escape.
Ji Wei stayed in there for nearly half an hour. When he came out, his whole body was flushed pink, and steam clung to his cheeks.
Yin Sijue was lying on the right side of the bed, playing with his phone. Seeing Ji Wei like that, he reached over and raised the air conditioner temperature by a few degrees.
Ji Wei shuffled over like a zombie, trying his best to move quietly, and carefully lay down on the left side of the bed.
He could hear the faint rhythm of the person’s breathing beside him—and feel a subtle trace of body heat.
He could even sense the other’s warmth. Was he lying too close? Thinking that, Ji Wei quietly inched away a little.
The sound of fabric rubbing against fabric broke the stillness as Yin Sijue turned over to face him. Ji Wei’s heartbeat immediately quickened again.
Could his heartbeat be heard? He shifted a little farther away, gripping the edge of the bed tightly, his body teetering on the brink.
“Ji Wei.”
He answered reflexively, “Here!”
Yin Sijue’s voice carried a hint of laughter. “It’s not like we just met.”
“It’s only sharing a bed. You don’t have to be so tense.”
Ji Wei pressed his lips together, flustered, and gave a forced, quiet “Oh.”
Seeing he still hadn’t relaxed, Yin Sijue reminded him gently, “Move in a little closer.”
Ji Wei froze.
When he still didn’t move, Yin Sijue asked, “Do you want me to pull you over?”
After two seconds of silence, Ji Wei lifted his hips slightly and wriggled awkwardly toward him, like a caterpillar inching along.
Satisfied, Yin Sijue put down his phone. “Good night. Go to sleep.”
Ji Wei forced down the restless stirrings in his chest, pulling the blanket up to his nose and quietly taking a small sniff.
It smelled a bit like Yin Sijue—both carried that same pleasant lemon scent.
He couldn’t help but breathe it in a few more times, then, wrapped in that comforting fragrance, he closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep.
Ten minutes later, Ji Wei’s breathing had grown steady and even.
In the darkness, Yin Sijue opened his eyes—clear and wide awake.
He looked at Ji Wei. The boy slept obediently, eyes closed, lips slightly pursed, fingers gripping the edge of the blanket—a small, unconscious gesture born of insecurity.
He looked harmless, like a gentle creature, yet everything he did seemed to test the limits of another’s self-control.
Yin Sijue recalled the faint sound of those earlier, tentative breaths—the soft sniffing—and bit his teeth together, a subtle itch of desire gnawing at him.
He stared for a while, then, as if bewitched, leaned ever so slightly toward Ji Wei—only to stop halfway.
If Ji Wei were to open his eyes at that very moment, he would see the chilling possessiveness in Yin Sijue’s gaze, restrained only by the last threads of control.
The night was hazy, burying every unspoken feeling deep within its darkness.
Yin Sijue knew perfectly well—between the two of them, the one truly nervous on that bed was never Ji Wei, but himself.