“Actually, it hurts quite a bit,” Ji Xun quickly changed his tune, switching options. “It hurts so much I can barely sleep.”
“That’s not what you said just now,” Huo Ranyin said pointedly.
“Just now, I didn’t want you to worry.”
“And now?”
“Now, I want to make you happy,” Ji Xun said.
“In your mind,” Huo Ranyin leaned against the windowsill, casting a sidelong glance at Ji Xun with a faint smile, “knowing that your injury hurts makes me happy?”
“…”
He really is angry, isn’t he?
On the surface, Ji Xun remained unfazed, but inwardly he felt a chill.
That passive-aggressive skill level had definitely leveled up.
“As much as I want to make you happy, I feel like I picked the wrong method. Maybe staying in the hospital for too long has let my brilliant brain gather some rust,” Ji Xun knew when to bend and when to stretch. “Care to give me a hint?”
“Sure?” Huo Ranyin looked somewhat surprised.
“Of course,” Ji Xun said with a straight face.
He felt Huo Ranyin’s gaze shift over, spinning around his cheeks. The man wore a deeply pensive expression—so deep that even his eyelashes seemed to be rubbing against each other, grinding out a spark of deep thought.
“Since it’s my hint…” Huo Ranyin began.
“Of course, any hint is fine.” Catching the drift immediately, Ji Xun braced himself.
“Then act spoiled and cute for me.” Huo Ranyin stated with satisfied clarity.
“…Huh?”
“Unwilling?” Huo Ranyin raised an eyebrow. Having stood in the same posture for a bit too long, he seemed slightly tired, so he shifted into a more comfortable position, casually brushing against the firmiana blossoms on the windowsill.
It’s not that I’m unwilling, it’s just so bizarre that my mind completely blanked out, Ji Xun muttered inwardly. It was like reading a traditional hard-boiled detective novel only to reach the very last page where the author tells you the culprit actually used supernatural powers to kill—you’re bound to experience a momentary wave of pure bewilderment.
If Ji Xun had a choice, he would definitely reject this novel.
And if Ji Xun had a choice, he would definitely reject Huo Ranyin’s demand for aegyo (acting cute)—
“It’s not that I’m unwilling…” Ji Xun dragged out his words. “It’s just… acting cute?”
You definitely said the wrong thing. Ji Xun looked at Huo Ranyin with absolute certainty.
“That’s right, act cute,” Huo Ranyin pronounced every single syllable clearly, crushing any remaining illusions.
That look of certainty instantly morphed into a look of absolute mind-blown confusion.
Sitting on the bed, a thoroughly dazed Ji Xun stared at Huo Ranyin for a moment. His eyes fluttered and blinked, flickering with hesitation. His gaze drifted from the windowsill to Huo Ranyin, then from Huo Ranyin back to the windowsill.
It was as if an invisible rubber band kept pulling him back and forth.
Ji Xun pulled himself up into a sitting position.
At first, he sat cross-legged. After a moment, he got off the bed, slipped into his slippers, and took a slow, leisurely stroll around the hospital ward. As he passed by Huo Ranyin, he purposely straightened his spine, fully displaying his height and figure, while throwing one sidelong glance after another at Huo Ranyin, attempting to use objective reality to dispel Huo Ranyin’s completely unrealistic ideas.
Yet, after pacing around the room three full times—
Huo Ranyin still wore that unhurried, leisurely expression.
Clearly, Huo Ranyin had no intention of changing his mischievous little streak.
Sighing, Ji Xun sat back down on the bed.
The room wasn’t small, but since his melancholy walk didn’t help, he had to return to the mattress to brainstorm.
First off: acting cute.
Keyword: aegyo.
Come to think of it, when Huo Ranyin brought up acting cute right now, was he simply wanting to see a side of Ji Xun different from usual, or did he think Ji Xun’s usual serious demeanor was already loaded with a bunch of un-serious attributes?
Wait, am I usually serious? Ji Xun suddenly started questioning himself. Probably not very serious. But even if he wasn’t very serious, it still didn’t quite fit the definition of “acting cute,” right? At most, it was just spouting some cynical, worldly banter?
Then, it suddenly dawned on him.
The version of himself in his own eyes, the real version of himself, and the version of himself in Huo Ranyin’s eyes might actually be three entirely different people.
Mm—
Ji Xun straightened out a logic train that satisfied him.
Not knowing how to act cute didn’t matter.
Just be confident and wing it.
After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Gathering all his courage in one breath, Ji Xun offered a tentative probe: “…Um, so, can I have a piece of candy, please?”
He sat back on the bed, skipping the cross-legged posture and settling into a formal Japanese-style seiza kneeling position.
His body lacked exercise, and every single bone felt coated with a layer of lead rust. Ji Xun had been finding creative ways to de-rust over the past few days, and switching between a wider variety of small-scale postures was one of the better methods.
So, he maintained this posture quite naturally, letting his hands drop down to his knees. He didn’t lift his arms—his arms still hurt—instead, he just twitched his wrists, tapping his knees to signal Huo Ranyin to come over.
Huo Ranyin didn’t move.
However, Ji Xun noticed that Huo Ranyin’s gaze lingered on his moving hands and didn’t look away.
It actually worked.
Talk about zero challenge.
Nothing can stump the brilliant me.
Ji Xun thought serenely, while mentally mocking his own seal-clapping hands:
My, how utterly affected and coy!
With that, those hands clapped even more cheerfully—pat pat pat, pat pat pat. Ji Xun urged:
“Come over here, feed me. I want candy.”
Fully satisfied, Huo Ranyin walked over to Ji Xun’s side.
His pockets were stocked with candy of all varieties. He fished out three at random: the first was a piece of chocolate, the second was a preserved plum candy, and the third was a piece of mint.
The flavors ranged from rich to light, ending with a crisp, cooling sweetness—much like Ji Xun’s fingertips brushing against his palm when he reached up.
Ji Xun felt like the rhythm was completely within his predicted range.
Without needing much thought, he could already simulate the actions and lines that should follow. For instance:
He should scratch the center of Huo Ranyin’s palm, then say, “Mm… I want them all, feed them all to me, okay… Mwah?”
Ji Xun ran through the simulation once in his mind, then ran through it again.
Even though it felt a little cheesy, I can probably pull this off?
These days, after all—
Products rely entirely on packaging.
And pleasing your partner relies on putting on a different skin.
Wasn’t this just… the refreshing, novel kind of role-playing fun hidden within an otherwise mundane daily routine?
Ji Xun finished building up his mental defenses.
He decided he was fully ready.
Finally, he spoke up: “Come on… feed me.”
…
Alright, it’s still a little hard to actually say out loud!
However, Huo Ranyin seemed entirely satisfied already.
Wearing a look of undisguised pleasure, he popped a piece of candy into Ji Xun’s mouth. Insisting on not letting Ji Xun lift his hands even an inch, he personally tore open the wrapper, fed the candy, watched Ji Xun finish it, and then tore open the next wrapper to feed him the next one.
A faint sense of oddity crept over Ji Xun.
This feels kind of like taking care of a pet… doesn’t it?
Regardless, the two of them harmoniously reached a consensus. Ji Xun satisfied Huo Ranyin, and consequently, all the candy ended up in Ji Xun’s mouth. As for Huo Ranyin, once the feeding was done, he was thoroughly satisfied too, lazily collapsing into Ji Xun’s arms.
The kneeling Ji Xun had now straightened his legs out flat, leaning back comfortably against the head of the bed, while Huo Ranyin rested his head against him.
The bed was a bit small, so the two of them had pushed two single beds together.
Ji Xun leaned against the headboard while Huo Ranyin settled against his chest and abdomen, carefully avoiding Ji Xun’s shoulder, which was still a long way from fully healed.
This posture gave him a direct view of the window.
He could see the dense cluster of firmiana blossoms outside, and beyond them, the sky. The sun was blocked by thick clouds, leaving only golden, fish-tail-like rays spilling across the heavy cloud layer. The light shifted as the clouds drifted, making it look as though a golden fish was shaking its head and wagging its tail across the sky—with every swish of its tail, another flurry of fluttering blossoms fell in a soft rustle.
A tranquil, beautiful slice of time.
Resting simultaneously in the eyes of both men.
Almost the moment he lay down, Huo Ranyin’s eyelids began to droop.
Leaning against Ji Xun, he cast off all his defenses, relaxing his body completely and even burying his face slightly into Ji Xun’s shoulder for a moment—as if using Ji Xun’s presence to thoroughly vent and release all his pent-up exhaustion.
Ji Xun’s hands couldn’t exert force, so he could only lightly brush against Huo Ranyin’s face, or let his fingers wander haphazardly through the man’s meticulously combed hair, letting the soft strands tangle against his fingertips.
Huo Ranyin’s expression smoothed out, and the sleepy, weary look across his entire person deepened.
There didn’t seem to be any need for words.
Just quietly soaking in this peaceful moment was enough.
Amidst the disheveled hair and the warm glow of the setting sun, Huo Ranyin’s skin—white as ice and snow—was tinged with relaxation and warmth. Stripped of its cold, aloof mask, an effortless allure seeped gently through the edges.
It reminded Ji Xun of Huo Ranyin, hidden away in the shadows of the night after a grueling day of work.
His very own Huo Ranyin.
“Why don’t we—” Ji Xun started with four words.
The moment he uttered them, however, he realized the rest of the sentence wasn’t quite suitable to voice aloud right now.
“Hmm?” Huo Ranyin didn’t fully open his eyes, maintaining that half-closed state. Through the tiny slits of his eyelids, the dark, shifting specks of his pupils were just barely visible.
“Nothing,” Ji Xun answered.
He leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Huo Ranyin’s mouth, and smiled:
“Just… wanted to act cute for you a bit, but I was worried you wouldn’t agree.”
Half-asleep and half-awake, Huo Ranyin let out a soft laugh: “You’ve already kissed me, and you’re still asking if I agree or not?”
Ji Xun didn’t reply, simply leaning down to kiss him once more.
Hiding his amusement and a flicker of slyness where Huo Ranyin couldn’t see.
