POTINS 29

Wen Zhongyi sat on the sofa. Meng Chuan went to pour him a cup of hot water, tested the temperature to make sure it was just right, and then handed it to him. “Drink some water first, soothe your throat.”

Just moments ago at the bathroom door, the two of them had stood in a silent standoff for half a minute.

Wen Zhongyi said nothing, and Meng Chuan refused to step aside—just stared at him, unwavering, until Wen Zhongyi’s expression began to waver.

But the moment Wen Zhongyi uttered a few words, Meng Chuan had stopped him.

His voice was far too hoarse, and with those red-rimmed eyes, it was simply too heartbreaking to hear.

Wen Zhongyi quietly drank half the cup of water. Meng Chuan sat beside him, studying him carefully.

Wen Zhongyi had very fair skin. After being splashed with cold water, his face looked even more clear and pristine, almost translucent. His eyes were long and narrow, his lips a bit thin, features that gave off a cold, distant impression.

But that aloofness had now been broken. The usual calm and coolness in his eyes was tinged with lingering red, filled with layered, unreadable emotions.

The last time Meng Chuan had seen him look this fragile was on the rainy day they first met.

When Meng Chuan had said, “Do we know each other?”, Wen Zhongyi’s eyes had turned red, as if tears were about to fall.

After being with him for so long, Meng Chuan had come to understand Wen Zhongyi’s nature.

Wen Zhongyi was someone with a strong and composed core. He never easily revealed sadness, never showed weakness to anyone.

Even when faced with the double blow of transmigrating to another world and being forgotten by the one he loved, he still carried himself with proud dignity, never begging for pity.

Meng Chuan had once thought he was arrogant and bossy. But really, Wen Zhongyi was always gentle and polite to others, he only acted differently with Meng Chuan.

Only with Meng Chuan would he give orders, ignore him when in a bad mood, and when furious, even point a gun at him. But he would also only show red-rimmed eyes in front of Meng Chuan.

Because in Wen Zhongyi’s heart, Meng Chuan was the one person who could accept all of him, even without his memories.

Perhaps even Wen Zhongyi himself hadn’t realized how much he relied on Meng Chuan, habitually, instinctively.

So when Meng Chuan asked why he had been crying, all the emotions that had been bottled up in Wen Zhongyi’s chest finally found a place to go.

Clutching the pocket watch he had only just redeemed, Wen Zhongyi slowly began to speak, telling Meng Chuan many things.

He started with the dream, then spoke of some everyday moments shared with his father and dad.

Wen Zhongyi wasn’t good at expressing emotions. He described it all very objectively, without mentioning how he felt, but Meng Chuan could still sense his sorrow.

“I really miss them,” Wen Zhongyi said, fingers brushing along the chain of the pocket watch, head bowed. “But I don’t know how to go back.”

His lashes lowered again, hiding the look in his eyes.

Meng Chuan wasn’t great at comforting people. But when it came to Wen Zhongyi, many things he’d thought he didn’t know how to do came to him instinctively.

He raised an arm and wrapped it around Wen Zhongyi’s shoulders, gently tightening the embrace, pulling him into his chest.

They were both wearing thin, soft pajamas. Pressed close together like this, they could easily feel each other’s body heat.

Warm tears soaked into the front of Meng Chuan’s shirt. He looked down and gently wiped them from Wen Zhongyi’s face with his fingertips, murmuring, “Don’t cry.”

Wen Zhongyi said nothing, but his tears fell even harder.

Patiently, over and over, Meng Chuan wiped them away. As if caught in the emotion too, even his nose began to sting.

After a long while, Wen Zhongyi’s tears finally stopped, and the soft, broken sobs faded too. He rested his face against Meng Chuan’s chest, sniffled lightly.

The living room fell silent, so quiet they could hear each other breathe.

Meng Chuan thought Wen Zhongyi would push him away soon. But he seemed still caught in his emotions and stayed perfectly still, unusually compliant.

After a while, Wen Zhongyi lifted his head from Meng Chuan’s chest, tilted his face up to look at him, and blinked. “Your heart’s beating really fast.”

Meng Chuan’s expression didn’t change. “It’s not.”

“It is.” Wen Zhongyi pressed his ear to Meng Chuan’s chest again to listen.

Meng Chuan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His arms instinctively tightened around Wen Zhongyi.

Something in the air seemed to shift, quietly but unmistakably. His heart beat faster and faster, and his scent began to intensify.

Wen Zhongyi moved slightly, as if to pull away. But Meng Chuan held him tightly, refusing to let go.

“Meng Chuan,” Wen Zhongyi called his name.

From above, Meng Chuan’s voice came, still calm. “Just a little longer.”

Clearly, the one who needed comforting was Wen Zhongyi, yet in the end, it was Meng Chuan who couldn’t bring himself to let go.

Meng Chuan chalked it up to instinct.

But the embrace barely lasted ten seconds before the ringtone of a phone shattered the silence.

It was Meng Chuan’s phone, left on the coffee table.

He didn’t want to answer it.

But the ringtone stopped, then started again, three cycles, persistent and relentless. By the end, Wen Zhongyi’s emotions had already been disrupted. He pushed Meng Chuan away, sat up, and frowned. “Answer it already. It’s driving me crazy.”

The warmth in his arms vanished in an instant, like steam dissipating into the cold. Meng Chuan’s chest felt hollow as he picked up the phone. The moment he saw the caller ID, his expression darkened even further.

He swiped to answer, giving the other party no time to speak, and growled, “Ji, this better be something life-or-death, or I swear I’ll strangle you.”

“…What the hell did I do to deserve this first thing in the morning?” Ji Shu asked, baffled.

Meng Chuan said coldly, “If you’ve got something to say, say it fast.”

“Hold on a second,” Ji Shu muttered to himself. “You’ve never bitten my head off like this before… wait, is this about morning moodiness? No, that can’t be it, you’re always up by now—ah, I get it! You’re off having the time of your life, huh? And here I thought you were so clean and self-disciplined. You got someone in your bed right now?”

Meng Chuan: “…”

His gaze instinctively shifted to the beauty he had just been holding.

That beauty had already returned to his usual cool, calm demeanor. Aside from the faint redness at the corners of his eyes, there was no sign at all that he’d been crying in Meng Chuan’s arms moments ago.

Wen Zhongyi washed his face and came back out while Meng Chuan was still on the phone, clearly discussing something work-related.

He’d only had a glass of water since waking up, and was now quite hungry. Without bothering Meng Chuan, he headed to the fridge to grab some frozen dumplings to boil.

“That pack’s probably about to expire,” Meng Chuan said, cutting off Ji Shu’s chatter while glancing at Wen Zhongyi. “I forgot to toss it—check the date first.”

“What dumplings?” Ji Shu asked in confusion, then quickly caught on. “Wait, wait—what the hell? You actually brought someone home?!”

Meng Chuan ignored him completely. “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up. Even if there is, don’t say it, just message me.”

And he hung up, not giving his eager friend a single crumb of gossip.

Wen Zhongyi looked down at the packaging. “Still three days till expiration. It’s fine.”

Meng Chuan put his phone down and walked over. “I’ll cook them.”

Wen Zhongyi gave a small nod and handed them over.

Meng Chuan stood holding the bag, studying Wen Zhongyi’s expression. “Feeling better?”

Wen Zhongyi gave a soft “Mm.” His mood was clearly still low, but he wasn’t crying anymore.

Though it was a good thing, Meng Chuan couldn’t help feeling a bit wistful. He raised his eyebrows. “Really better now? Want another hug?”

The corner of Wen Zhongyi’s mouth twitched. The gloom between his brows lifted instantly. He glared at Meng Chuan. “Go make the dumplings.”

“So fierce.”

Meng Chuan pouted, taking the dumplings toward the kitchen. Just before he stepped through the door, he stuck his head back out and added, “You were much cuter when you were in my arms just now.”

“…”

Because of that dream, Wen Zhongyi’s gloomy mood lingered for several days. He seemed disinterested in everything he did.

His father and dad didn’t even know he was pregnant. This child was supposed to have two doting grandpas.

As he absentmindedly touched his belly, Wen Zhongyi’s eyes stung again.

But he knew he couldn’t wallow in sadness for too long, it wouldn’t be good for the baby.

So he lifted his head and said to Meng Chuan, who was scratching his head trying to cheer him up, “I want to go for a walk.”

Meng Chuan immediately said, “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

In the past, whenever he was upset, Wen Zhongyi would blow off steam at the training grounds. But that wasn’t an option anymore. He couldn’t even run or jump, he had to be cautious just walking.

Before they left, Meng Chuan wrapped a scarf around him. Since the evening temperature was low, he didn’t give Wen Zhongyi a choice and bundled him in a thick coat.

Wen Zhongyi resisted to no avail. In the end, he was stuffed so full he looked round and puffy, his arms hanging stiffly at his sides, unable to touch the seams of his pants. On top of his head was a fluffy knit cap.

“This outfit is seriously ugly,” Wen Zhongyi said flatly.

“Ugly where?” Meng Chuan looked him over with satisfaction. “You look great. Winter fashion is all about staying warm, you know? Come on.”

The streets were nearly empty. Cold wind blew into their faces.

Only Wen Zhongyi’s eyes were visible beneath his layers. He blinked. Wrapped up like this, he didn’t feel cold at all.

Meng Chuan walked beside him, head down, deliberately stepping on Wen Zhongyi’s shadow on the pavement.

Wen Zhongyi glanced down and said, “Childish.”

The more he said that, the more enthusiastically Meng Chuan kept at it. The shadows stretched and shrank with the streetlights—when they were short, he’d get close enough to step on it properly, even sticking to Wen Zhongyi’s side to do so. It actually made Wen Zhongyi laugh.

“Don’t crowd me. You’re annoying,” Wen Zhongyi said with a smile, eyes crinkled, pushing Meng Chuan away.

Undeterred, Meng Chuan leaned in again. “What’s wrong with being close? Let me block the wind for you.”

Though he said that, in reality, he was walking ahead of Wen Zhongyi, shielding him from the cold breeze.

They walked a full loop around the community park. The crisp air, along with Meng Chuan’s antics, helped lift Wen Zhongyi’s mood a little. Feeling a bit tired, he came to a stop.

Meng Chuan trailed behind by a few steps. When Wen Zhongyi turned around, he saw Meng Chuan holding up his phone. When he noticed Wen Zhongyi looking, he quickly put it away and smiled as if nothing had happened.

Wen Zhongyi frowned. “Were you filming me?”

“No,” Meng Chuan replied. “Just checking the time.”

He stuffed the phone back into his pocket, rubbed his hands, and walked over. “Tired? Let’s go home.”

Wen Zhongyi nodded. “Okay.”

Back home, Wen Zhongyi was still warm, but Meng Chuan was half frozen and had to sit for a while to thaw.

Wen Zhongyi grabbed his robe and went to shower. Soon after, the sound of running water echoed from the bathroom.

Meng Chuan sat on the sofa, took out his phone, opened his photo gallery, and played the video he’d taken earlier.

In the warm, amber streetlight, Wen Zhongyi was bundled up from head to toe, his usual cool aloofness softened. Wearing a brown fluffy hat, he walked slowly through the winter night, looking like a gentle, adorable little bear.