LIAH 10. Give Me a Kiss

Pei Siyin looked around, then said with certainty, “You’re here to pick me up, right?”

Song Shengyang avoided his gaze and didn’t deny it. “Let go. Get in the car.”

Satisfaction flooded Pei Siyin’s pounding heart. He leaned against Song Shengyang as they walked forward, barely using any strength of his own.

The car had the AC running. As soon as Pei Siyin sat down, drowsiness washed over him. He canceled the ride he had booked, then turned to face Song Shengyang behind the wheel. “I’m really sleepy.”

“Then sleep.” Song Shengyang steered with one hand while glancing at his phone with the other. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”

Pei Siyin hugged his arms and stared at him openly. “Why did you dye your hair black?”

“My mom forced me.”

Hard to say how long Lou Wanqing had put up with him. Other than green, Song Shengyang had tried nearly every color in the book. If he hadn’t been chased around the house with a feather duster yesterday, there was no way he would’ve given up his favorite orange.

It was vibrant. It was youthful. It was his favorite.

In the end, it was his dad who dropped the hammer: “No freak looks allowed at the company.”

Song Shengyang had wanted to argue, how was hair color considered freakish attire? Back when he first started at the company, how many young girls had looked at him with starry-eyed admiration, whispering about how hot and stylish he was? It was a shame his parents were so uptight. If they had been a little more open-minded, he could have grown into exactly what Yan Ting described as the most uniquely handsome general manager in the city.

“Black looks good too.” Pei Siyin praised him. “You look good in any color.”

Song Shengyang stiffened his expression and didn’t respond. He was afraid Pei Siyin would get cocky. “What time’s your class?”

“Nine.”

It wasn’t even seven yet.

“We’ll eat at home first. After that I’ll drive you to school.”

Pei Siyin lit up, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Song Shengyang, thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” Song Shengyang muttered. “I’m just a kind person.”

It almost felt like when they first met. Pei Siyin sat up straight, toying with the seatbelt and laughing, just like he had back when they first met. He rubbed his leg. “I want soy milk. And fried dough sticks.”

Whenever food was mentioned, Pei Siyin lit up with the same excitement he showed whenever he saw Song Shengyang. His eyes sparkled as he said, “Have you ever tried it? Dipping the dough stick into the soy milk? It’s amazing!”

Song Shengyang frowned. “That sounds disgusting. I don’t believe you.”

Pei Siyin gave a little snort and turned to look out the window. “You’ll know once you try it.”

He was not called a food connoisseur for nothing.

Parking was hard to find on breakfast street. Pei Siyin pointed to a shop up ahead and told Song Shengyang, “That one. I want two dough sticks and a bowl of soy milk. With sugar, but not too much, or it’ll be too sweet.”

“How much is ‘not too much’?” Song Shengyang unbuckled his seatbelt. “One spoon?”

Pei Siyin lifted his eyes to meet his gaze. “That’s enough. Thanks in advance.”

Song Shengyang went to line up. With that face and body, he easily made the lady boss abandon all reason. She tossed aside her apron and the dough she was kneading, came over to serve him herself, and even gave him an extra portion for free. “Come back next time,” she said, waving him off with a grin, “I’ll treat you again!”

Song Shengyang was beaming, his eyes curving into a perfect arc. In the car, Pei Siyin rested his chin on one hand, muttering in protest, “How come she never treats me like that?”

The underground garage was cold and drafty. Pei Siyin took the breakfast, letting Song Shengyang wrap an arm around him and guide him forward.

“Where’s your wheelchair?”

“It’s annoying. Didn’t want to bring it.”

“So you’re gonna hop your way to school?”

Pei Siyin gave it a little thought and realized he had a point. “Then I’ll send a message to one of my classmates after we eat. Ask them to pick me up.”

Song Shengyang let out a cryptic little laugh. “Popular, huh?”

“Sort of,” Pei Siyin said, leaning into him as they stepped into the elevator. “Everyone says I’m really enthusiastic.”

The elevator doors were mirrored, opening on both sides. Pei Siyin leaned against Song Shengyang, looking at his reflection. “What about you? What do you think of me?”

The elevator was lit with a soft glow. Song Shengyang held his gaze in the mirror. Just as the floor indicator blinked to six, he finally said, “A bit too enthusiastic.”

Exactly the kind of answer he expected.

Back home, Pei Siyin plated the breakfast. He dipped a fried dough stick into the creamy soy milk, let it soak for two or three seconds, then pulled it out and took a bite. He slid the bowl toward Song Shengyang, eager to share. “Try it.”

Song Shengyang looked skeptical. He copied him, soaking a stick briefly before taking a bite of the soggy thing, wearing a clear look of distaste.

He froze.

The dough stick, soaked through, practically melted in his mouth. The outer layer still had a crisp shell, but inside, it was saturated with the fragrant flavor of soy milk. He glanced at Pei Siyin and gave an honest assessment. “Not bad at all.”

“Told you,” Pei Siyin said with a big smile, sitting contentedly in his chair.

After breakfast, Song Shengyang checked the time. He stood by the couch and told Pei Siyin, “We’ll head out in ten minutes.”

“Okay.” Pei Siyin was hugging a lion-shaped plush pillow. After a brief moment of hesitation, he suddenly tugged on the hem of Song Shengyang’s shirt and stood up, face to face with him. Looking into his eyes, he said, “I have a test coming up.”

Watching him struggle to stand, Song Shengyang reached out to steady him. “I know. What’s up?”

Pei Siyin set down the pillow and wrapped his arms around Song Shengyang’s waist. He leaned in and nudged his chin with the tip of his nose. “Can you give me a kiss?”

Then he added, “Not on the lips. Just on my hand, okay?”

Maybe he had been too harsh before. Pei Siyin hadn’t made any over-the-top moves all day. Song Shengyang looked down.

“Why?”

Pei Siyin let go, his gaze serious and full of hope. He raised his right hand, palm down. “I write with this hand. If you kiss it, I’ll do really well today.”

Song Shengyang gave him a puzzled look. He’d never heard of anything like that before.

Time suddenly slowed down. Each second seemed to stretch out.

Pei Siyin realized, just a beat too late, that he shouldn’t have asked. He should’ve just kissed him. His arm started to ache. Feeling deflated, he began to lower it, but it was suddenly caught.

Song Shengyang took his hand, guided it upward, and stopped when his lips brushed the back of it. His lashes lowered, but Pei Siyin still saw the soft press of his mouth against his skin.