Chapter 59

Yan Mu continued to hold him in silence. Jiang Zhihuo reached back to smooth his hair, laughing as he joked, “Should I say yes already? Yan-ge, your cold and stoic image is falling apart—you’re turning into a little sweetheart.”

Yan Mu didn’t respond.

To be honest, even he felt that his jealousy had been a bit childish. It was simply a birthday gift and a meal. If he had insisted on Jiang Zhihuo not going, it really would’ve looked like he was throwing a tantrum.

After holding him quietly for a while, Yan Mu let go. He turned and calmly resumed boiling noodles and frying eggs, as if nothing had happened. His face returned to its usual cool and composed expression, as if nothing had happened.

Jiang Zhihuo found it all rather amusing. Moments like this, when he got to see Yan-ge act all stiff and awkward, were rare. Naturally, he wasn’t going to let it go so easily. Scooting closer, he teased in a playful voice, like coaxing a shy spirit, “Say something?”

“Friend?”

“Yan-ge?”

“Hot guy?”

“Sweetheart?”

Yan Mu didn’t react to the teasing at first—but that last word, ‘sweetheart,’ clearly hit a nerve. He turned his head, tore off a piece of the fried egg beside him, and stuffed it straight into Jiang Zhihuo’s mouth.

The egg had gone cold, the edges crisp and slightly tough. Jiang Zhihuo bit down on the thin strip of egg white and chuckled.

The noodles finished cooking quickly. The two sat side by side at the dining table, propped up a tablet, and started watching a detective film that had been released during last year’s Lunar New Year.

About twenty minutes into the movie, they finished eating. After cleaning up and washing the dishes, they quickly got ready to take a nap.

With afternoon classes and evening self-study ahead, that half-hour break was their only chance to recharge.

Yan Mu set an alarm. They each lay on one side of the bed, a pillow placed between them as a silent boundary.

The curtains were thick and heavy, blocking out the harsh afternoon sun. The room was dim and quiet—just right for sleeping.

Jiang Zhihuo closed his eyes for a bit, but sleep didn’t come.

He hadn’t been that tired to begin with. After a while, he opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling, one hand supporting his forehead, the other resting lightly on his stomach. The position felt oddly comfortable.

As he lay there spacing out, Jiang Zhihuo’s thoughts drifted in all directions.

He thought about this and that, but in the end, his mind circled right back to Yan Mu, who was lying quietly beside him.

Lately, the God of Learning Yan had been unusually sweet. That cold and distant demeanor of his had all but crumbled—now he was soft, a little clingy, and honestly… downright adorable.

The thought made Jiang Zhihuo’s chest feel warm. This side of Yan Mu—only he got to see it. Who would’ve guessed that the aloof genius, the untouchable flower on the mountaintop, was actually such a softie inside?

Of course, all of this had to stay locked in his head. No way he could say any of it out loud to the God of Learning Yan himself.

Yan Mu looked like he was asleep—eyes closed, body perfectly still. Jiang Zhihuo briefly glanced at Yan Mu before returning his attention to the ceiling. In a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “Yan-ge, give me a little more time.”

There was a faint rustling beside him.

Yan Mu shifted, turning onto his side, his head resting lightly on his arm as he faced Jiang Zhihuo.

Jiang Zhihuo turned his head too, and their eyes met.

“You weren’t asleep?” He asked.

Yan Mu responded with a soft “mhm.” His gaze was steady, quiet, and deep. He didn’t ask what that ‘little more time’ meant. He simply held that delicate, near-invisible distance between them, thinner than a sheet of candy wrap, and said only two words, “I’ll wait.”

That year, Christmas Eve fell on a Thursday. As soon as school ended, Jiang Zhihuo rushed out of the classroom. Li-ge‘s birthday dinner was being held quite a distance away, and he still had to pick up a package. He was in a bit of a hurry. The gift he’d ordered had been delayed in shipping, and he’d assumed he wouldn’t be able to give it in time. Unexpectedly, it arrived that very day.

Meanwhile, Yan Mu and Xie Qiu had dinner in the cafeteria. After returning to the classroom, Yan Mu’s mood took a noticeable dip.

Evening self-study hadn’t started yet, but many students were already at their desks working through practice problems. The class monitor had brought in two boxes of apples beforehand—one for every student. Big characters spelling ‘Merry Christmas Eve’ had been written across the blackboard, adding a faint festive touch. Now, each desk had a neatly wrapped apple sitting quietly in the corner.

Even though it was Christmas Eve, not a single worksheet was spared.

Xie Qiu had gone downstairs for a quick stroll and to chat with a few friends. When he came back and sat down to start on his papers, he glanced over and froze.

Yan Mu already had a thick stack of worksheets on his desk. His pen moved with machine-like precision, gliding across the page at lightning speed. One sheet after another, finished in mere moments, then casually set aside.

“Damn.” Xie Qiu was stunned. It wasn’t like he’d never seen Yan-ge do practice questions before, but this was the first time he’d witnessed him working with such speed, intensity, and utter detachment. “Yan-ge, you’re tearing through them that fast?!”

Summoning his courage, he reached over and pulled one out for a look. All math.

The solutions were ruthlessly efficient—no explanations, no extra work. Simply the core idea, massive logical leaps, and a couple of lines of formulas that landed right at the answer.

Xie Qiu picked up another worksheet.

He’d planned to do this one during break, but it was way too hard. He got stuck writing the ‘solve’ character for the first question, made a guess, and didn’t know how to continue, so he gave up on the spot.

He stared at Yan Mu’s work for a long time, then asked, “Yan-ge, how did you figure out this constant C?”

The question was to find a constant C that fits a sequence made up of a whole bunch of variables like a, m, z, and so on, as described in the problem statement.

Zong Bei only managed to write one more line, something like ‘assuming a ≠ 0,’ and then he was completely stuck.

Yan Mu was still working on the problem in front of him. Without even looking up at Xie Qiu’s question, he said, “You need to assume three cases: m = 2s, m = 2s + 1, and m = 1. Substitute them into the sequence n, calculate the sum, set the upper limit of k as 2 and the lower limit as positive infinity, and then find the extremum.”

Xie Qiu looked at the solution, just two lines of equations, then straight to the final answer. The constant C equals the square root of three over three. He stared at it for a moment, then asked, “Yan-ge, are you in a bad mood or something?”

Yan-ge usually wasn’t this rough when doing papers. Skipping steps wouldn’t earn full marks, and he always wrote out the proper scoring steps. Xie Qiu knew Yan Mu well; though he usually had no expression and always looked annoyed and unapproachable, he actually wasn’t in a bad mood that often.

Yan Mu didn’t say a word.

Trying to lighten the atmosphere, Xie Qiu switched topics. “So… how are things with Huo-ge?”

It was meant as a casual question, a little mood-lifter. Yet the moment he said it, the pressure around Yan Mu grew even heavier. If his earlier mood was like a cloudy sky, now it was a full-blown thunderstorm brewing overhead.

Yan Mu slowly lifted his head and gave him a look—deep, unreadable.

Then, without a word, he set the worksheet he’d just finished aside.

Xie Qiu gulped.

He had the sinking feeling that he’d just stepped on a landmine and triggered a silent death sentence.

The tense atmosphere didn’t ease until Yan Mu’s phone buzzed a few times from inside his desk.

Jiang Zhihuo had sent him some messages.

Jiang Zhihuo: [Image.]

Jiang Zhihuo: Yan-ge, I heard this mille crepe place is really good.

Jiang Zhihuo: I’ll bring you some on the way back. What flavor do you want?

On his way to the restaurant, Jiang Zhihuo had come across a newly opened dessert shop—the kind that had gone viral online. It had been making the rounds on every platform lately, and a new branch had just launched in Lincheng. Every day, the place attracted long lines due to its popularity.

That’s how things had been lately—whenever Jiang Zhihuo came across something fun or interesting, he’d always think to bring a share back for Yan-ge.

Xie Qiu watched as the storm clouds on Yan Mu’s face disappeared in an instant. His tightly pressed lips eased, and the cold aura around him melted away, like someone had fed him a spoonful of something sweet. And like that, he was healed.

Yan Mu typed a reply, then looked up at Xie Qiu’s dazed, baffled expression and asked, “What did you just say?”

Xie Qiu: “I said… how’s it going with Huo-ge? Going well?”

Yan Mu: “Mhm.”

Xie Qiu: “?”

Xie Qiu returned to his seat, looking completely confused. He picked up his pen and worked on his worksheet for a while before it finally dawned on him—Yan-ge had shown off his relationship right in front of him!

It felt like a random mouthful of dog food for no reason.

After evening self-study, Yan Mu opened WeChat.

The last thing Jiang Zhihuo had said was, “I’m going to eat; talk later,” and then there was no follow-up. However, after all these days, a kind of unspoken understanding had formed. Jiang Zhihuo wouldn’t ignore him on purpose. If there was no reply, it must mean that dinner wasn’t over yet.

Who knew what they were up to—what could a bunch of researchers even play? It was already past ten.

Yan Mu had wandered off, lost in thought. By the time he came back to reality, he was already on the bus heading to Jiang Zhihuo’s place. This route continued until a little past eleven. The farther it went, the emptier the streets became, with long shadows stretching beneath the orange streetlights.

He picked up some late-night snacks near the bus stop. Carrying two bags of food made his unexpected visit feel a bit less abrupt.

Looking up from the building entrance, he saw that the lights in Jiang Zhihuo’s room were dark. As expected, Jiang Zhihuo hadn’t returned yet.

The residence was on the sixth floor, with no elevator. As Yan Mu climbed, he heard footsteps from two floors above. When he reached the landing, he saw Li Muhe supporting Jiang Zhihuo, whose cheeks were a bit flushed—he seemed a little drunk.

“Xiao Huo, where’s your key?” Li Muhe asked.

Jiang Zhihuo took out his key and tried jabbing it at the keyhole a few times but couldn’t get it in. Seeing this, Li Muhe sighed and said, “I told you not to drink so much. Everyone in the lab is older—how are you supposed to keep up?”

“If I didn’t drink, they’d make you drink instead. Your stomach’s weak. It’d bother you all night long.”

Li Muhe smiled, took Jiang Zhihuo’s hand, and helped guide the key into the lock. He turned it twice to the right, and the door swung open.

Jiang Zhihuo stepped in, took off his shoes, and pulled out two pairs of slippers from the side.

Yet, Li Muhe didn’t make any motion to follow him in. Jiang Zhihuo turned around and looked at him, confused. “You’re not coming in?”

Li Muhe gave a soft smile, his eyes lowered gently. He reached out and patted Jiang Zhihuo’s head.

Whatever that touch was about, in Yan Mu’s eyes, that look held way too much meaning. His fingers curled up tightly without him even noticing.

“Li-ge?”

Li Muhe asked softly, “Still conscious?”

“Yeah,” Jiang Zhihuo said. “Only a bit dizzy, not really drunk.”

“Can you take care of yourself?”

“Of course.”

Li Muhe smiled faintly and said gently, “Then I won’t go in.”

With his head slowed by alcohol, Jiang Zhihuo stared blankly as Li Muhe walked away. Before disappearing into the stairwell, Li Muhe turned and waved.

Jiang Zhihuo waved back. It was only after the figure vanished that he closed the door, slid on his slippers, grabbed the clothes from the bed, and went to the bathroom. He smelled like alcohol—there was no way he could sleep without taking a shower.

However, he had only taken a few steps when someone knocked on the door again. Thinking it was Li Muhe coming back, he went to open it, joking, “Back so soon?”

He looked up and saw Yan Mu standing outside. He froze, thinking maybe he was too drunk and imagining things. Yet once he confirmed it was real, a wave of happiness rushed through him. He smiled up and said, “Yan-ge? What are you doing here?”

“You drank?” Yan Mu asked.

“A little, not drunk.”

Jiang Zhihuo heard Yan Mu click his tongue, and before he could even ask, “What’s wrong?” Yan Mu reached up and switched off the light.

Suddenly, everything went dark—he hadn’t adjusted yet and couldn’t see anything. Then an unfamiliar wave of body heat pressed against him, pinning him to the wall. Hot breath landed on his ear.

“Yan-ge?”

Jiang Zhihuo was still dazed, his mind not working.

Next, something soft and warm caressed his ear. Yan Mu placed a gentle kiss on his earlobe before tenderly biting down on the edge.

His breath was scorching hot—humid and steamy.

Jiang Zhihuo gave a little push but couldn’t budge him. “What are you trying to do?”

Yan Mu bit his earlobe again. “Jiang Zhihuo, I like you.”

Just like that, another confession was made. Didn’t he already say Yan-ge is a total sweetheart? Jiang Zhihuo’s heart softened. Before he could even react, Yan Mu had already put a hand around the back of his neck and kissed him.

It was a kiss without restraint—fierce and forceful.

To hell with it, who says I didn’t like him back, ah??

Jiang Zhihuo never hesitated in confronting such situations. And after drinking, that competitive streak only burned hotter. His mind went blank—he didn’t think at all. He reached out, pulled Yan Mu in, and kissed him back.

A completely unexpected, totally unexplained kiss—Jiang Zhihuo didn’t even know why Yan Mu had suddenly decided to cross that invisible line between them.

However, in situations like this, it was difficult to think clearly.

Deal with it later.

With his vision blocked in the darkness, all his other senses grew sharper. The alpha’s pheromones surrounded him aggressively. Warm fingers brushed the back of his neck, skimming across his spine, stroking the area near but never quite touching the gland.

The kiss, filled with emotions, was too passionate and overwhelming. They’d kissed countless times before and already knew each other’s breathing and rhythm. However, this time, Jiang Zhihuo forgot how to breathe—he pushed Yan Mu away once midway to catch his breath, only to have his chin grabbed and turned back.

The darkness was like a curtain that hid their shame; both of them lost themselves. Even the aftermath of the kiss could be clearly felt.

They’d never paid attention to it before—after all, it was just to suppress estrus. But in this situation? Pretending it was just an emotionless suppressant? No way. It was like two people who obviously liked each other saying they were sharing a bed merely to talk under the blanket. Who the hell would believe that?

The alcohol had slowed down Jiang Zhihuo’s reactions. By the time he regained his senses, he’d already been turned around, with his chest pressed against the door, held firmly, completely losing control of the situation.

It was too crazy. He didn’t even know why things had suddenly gotten so out of control. Maybe the feelings were simply too much; the mood was too perfect. He lost his head and even let out a soft, indescribable sigh. He was nervous but relaxed at the same time. It felt good—so good his back suddenly arched.

His breathing was a mess.

When he finally regained a bit of clarity and tried to break free, his chin was grabbed again, his head turned back into another kiss.

Yan Mu bit down on Jiang Zhihuo’s lower lip and asked, “Why did you let him touch you?”

Jiang Zhihuo didn’t understand. His voice quivered. “What…?”

“Why’d you let him in?” Yan Mu kept moving as he asked again, “He’s had you for so many years…”

“You’re mine, Jiang Zhihuo.”

Jiang Zhihuo couldn’t understand any of the sentences being spoken. He couldn’t make out a single word. It felt too good—entirely different from being alone. His pupils were unfocused.

At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, clearly audible through the thin window. The lights outside got brighter, moving closer.

Jiang Zhihuo reacted sharply, pulling back a little.

Then came the knocking at the door.

“Xiao Huo.”

It was Li Muhe’s voice!

His mind jolted wide awake. Jiang Zhihuo fought to push Yan Mu away, but his body had grown weak—he had no strength left, especially since he was the one being touched.

Yan Mu didn’t stop. He kissed Jiang Zhihuo’s gland and said in a raspy voice, “Don’t move.”

“Don’t move, my foot! Let go!”

Jiang Zhihuo pushed back with his elbow, but Yan Mu held him tighter—he couldn’t struggle at all.

Li Muhe knocked again. “Xiao Huo, why is your light off? Are you asleep?”

Yan Mu’s movements became even faster. The reactions didn’t fade—the tension only worsened.

With such intense tension, Jiang Zhihuo’s entire body went numb. His nerves sparked with a new, indescribable kind of sensation. In those final moments, he tilted his head back.

There was a brief silence outside before the footsteps slowly faded away. The phone that had been set aside lit up—it became the only source of light in the dark room.

Li Muhe: Are you asleep? Then I won’t disturb you.

Li Muhe: I’m still a bit worried. I bought some honey and hangover medicine and left them at the door. If you wake up during the night, remember to go and get them.

Li Muhe: I’m so glad you could come and spend my birthday with me.

Jiang Zhihuo was panting, his chest rising and falling sharply, but he couldn’t get any air in. It felt like something was stuck, completely blocking his breath.

He pushed Yan Mu away without thinking about anything else, fastened himself up, and slid down against the wall, feeling completely drained.

He had used up all his strength. Yan Mu stumbled back a few steps and bumped into the dining table, feeling pain shoot up his leg—only then did he realize what he had done.

Jiang Zhihuo sat on the floor, still struggling to catch his breath. After keeping his eyes closed for so long, he had begun to adjust to the dark. Now, he could see Yan Mu a short distance away.

Their pheromones lingered in the air, filled with a distinct and intimate scent.

F*ck.

As soon as he regained his composure, Jiang Zhihuo’s anger flared up.

The same thing had happened once before in the empty classroom. Thereafter, Yan Mu dismissed it, saying, “Wait, I’ll explain the reason later.”

What now??

Where’s the reason????

“Yan Mu, what the f*ck is wrong with you?!”

Jiang Zhihuo didn’t even try to control his anger. “Are you messing with me? Is this some kind of fun for you? You still haven’t explained what happened last time, and now you do this again???”

He could still feel the touch on his hand. Yan Mu froze. He had no words—he couldn’t explain anything. All he could manage to say was, “I’m sorry.”

F*ck your apology.

When it was only the two of them, that was fine—mutual consent and all that. But now? What the hell was this? Was he really planning to crush someone’s dignity into the dirt?

Jiang Zhihuo didn’t want to hear another word from Yan Mu. He grabbed a pack of tissues from behind him and tossed it over. “Go wash your hands and get out.”

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The author has something to say:

He deserves to get hit with a stick.