WP 22

The next morning, Jiang Yibai checked Weibo and unsurprisingly found that he’d been reported. He stared at the notification for a moment, then suddenly lost all interest. With a lazy flick of his thumb, he deleted the post, then lay in bed zoning out for a while. He’d gone to sleep late last night, and his brain still felt foggy. He tossed and turned under the sheets for a bit, and by the time he finally got up, half an hour had already passed since he opened his eyes.

He dragged himself out of bed like a boneless slug, his whole body damp with sweat. The air conditioning had automatically shut off in the middle of the night, and with the windows and door closed tight, the room was stifling. He threw open the windows, barefoot and wearing nothing but his underwear, and headed to the bathroom for a shower. But as soon as he pushed the door open—

Someone was already inside.

Si Shaorong had probably just gotten up too. He was standing at the toilet, taking a piss. Still half-asleep, he hadn’t bothered to lock the door. But the sound of the door creaking open snapped him wide awake.

Jiang Yibai: “…”

Si Shaorong: “…”

They were both men. It wasn’t a big deal. But even so, both of them froze for a beat.

Jiang Yibai quickly closed the door.

In that split-second pause, though, his peripheral vision had already caught that.

He licked his lips, glanced down into his own underwear, and perfectly demonstrated the phrase: a polite salute, ever so slightly.

Cursing under his breath, he turned around to look for something to throw on.

Just as he was twisting his body to reach for a pair of pants, the bathroom door creaked open again. Si Shaorong stepped out, eyes darting toward Jiang Yibai with the tiniest hint of embarrassment. His ears were faintly red as he muttered, “Sorry…”

“It’s fine. Nothing to be sorry about.” Jiang Yibai bent over slightly, though it did nothing to hide the situation. He smiled calmly and said, “Yeah, uh… just woke up, you know how it is…”

Si Shaorong nodded. “I get it.”

The two of them stood there at the bathroom door, wrapped in a thick fog of awkwardness. Jiang Yibai had the sudden sense that if he bolted now, it would only make things more obvious. So he stiffened his neck and forced himself to stay put. Luckily, his body calmed down pretty quickly. Maybe the tension had scared it into retreat.

He let out a small breath, slowly straightened his spine, and said, “Are you showering? I’m all sweaty.”

Something short-circuited in Si Shaorong’s brain. He nodded. “Sure.”

Jiang Yibai: “?”

It didn’t register right away. He gave a distracted nod and moved to step around Si Shaorong. Three seconds later, he froze.

It was as if lightning had cracked through his skull, splitting his mind from his body and blasting his soul halfway into the next life. For a moment, he thought he’d gone deaf.

He replayed the conversation in his head with excruciating clarity.

“Are you showering?”—That was just him being polite.

“I’m all sweaty.”—That meant I was planning to shower.

Read together, it clearly meant: If you’re not using it, I’ll go ahead and take a shower.

Normally, there were two possible responses to this:

1. “I’m not. Go ahead.”
2. “Actually, I was about to shower too.”

But what had Si Shaorong said?

“Sure.”

Sure?

Sure??

SURE?!

Jiang Yibai slowly turned his head, and sure enough, Si Shaorong was following him inside.

Looking… a little shy, even.

Jiang Yibai was falling apart inside. Clearly, Si Shaorong had fixated on the words “you showering” and “I’m all sweaty”and somehow interpreted it as an invitation to shower together. It was a stretch, sure, but technically not impossible to read it that way. And now, if he turned around and said “That’s not what I meant,” it would only make everything a hundred times more mortifying.

He never thought he’d actually experience this kind of ridiculous, low-level misunderstanding in real life. If he wrote something like this in a story, people would rip him apart for lazy plotting and forced setups.

But this was actually happening. Reality, it turned out, was a twisted bastard of a screenwriter with a filthy sense of humor.

Si Shaorong closed the door behind them. Jiang Yibai, face blank, turned on the water.

The old apartment was spacious. Even the bathroom had room to spare. The shower was separated from the toilet and sink by a glass wall, wide enough to comfortably fit three people, let alone two.

So there they were, standing under the showerhead like two guards on either side of a palace gate. Neither of them spoke, neither of them made eye contact. Jiang Yibai’s expression could only be described as that of a man heading to the gallows.

Once the water warmed up, Si Shaorong slipped off his underwear.

Jiang Yibai’s throat moved. He didn’t dare turn his head. He stared blankly at the wall.

His brain had already switched to full-mosaic fantasy mode.

Steam blurred his vision, casting everything in a hazy glow. In his head, he was suddenly transformed into a domineering CEO, looking at Si Shaorong with smoldering eyes.

“You want it? Say it. If you don’t say it, I won’t give it to you.”

“No…” Si Shaorong whispered, cheeks flushed. “It’s my first time. Please be gentle…”

Jiang Yibai grabbed him by the chin, pulled him into a kiss, and gave a devilish smirk. “Hand me the body wash.”

Si Shaorong, hand trembling, reached out. Jiang Yibai gave him a cruel pinch, and he let out a shaky little moan as the bottle slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a thud.

Then came the order, smooth and wicked. “Pick it up.”

And then…. hehehe.

Mosaic after mosaic surged through Jiang Yibai’s mind, flooding every corner of his thoughts until even his eyes began to flush red.

Si Shaorong had just rinsed his hair. He wiped the water from his face and turned to glance at him. “Jiang Yibai? What’s wrong?”

“…Nothing.” Jiang Yibai lowered his head. His once-defeated little brother was now proudly standing at attention again. Furious, he thought, Why the hell am I the only one suffering here?

But Si Shaorong had noticed. His gaze flickered downward, and he immediately turned away. He reached for the body wash behind him.

With his back now turned, the image lined up perfectly with the fantasy Jiang Yibai had just been playing out in his head. He took a deep breath. Another. One more.

If he could hold himself back at a moment like this, then he was no man.

“Fuck it,” he cursed, and stepped forward, pressing his body against Si Shaorong’s back.

The warm water ran down over both of them. It was already summer, and even though the water wasn’t hot, the steam still clung to the air, thick and stifling.

Jiang Yibai reached over and flipped on the ventilation fan. Then he leaned close to Si Shaorong’s ear and murmured, “Ge, ready for a new lesson?”

Si Shaorong was already feeling guilty for mentally turning Jiang Yibai into his midnight snack the night before. Now, with the man’s breath trailing down his ear like that, a shiver ran straight through him. His knees nearly buckled.

Jiang Yibai propped one arm against the wall and laughed softly. “Sounds like a yes.”

Si Shaorong turned crimson.

Jiang Yibai’s fingers skimmed lightly across his bare skin, lingering along his thigh. The way they moved was less like touching and more like dancing on flesh. “If you don’t want this,” he said gently, “you can say no.”

Si Shaorong’s mind was spinning. The thought of saying no never made it out of his mouth. His head was full of the things Jiang Yibai had written, each scene vivid and obscene, wrapping around him like a fever that wouldn’t break.

“I think I might be like you,” he said at last. His voice was quiet, each word drawn out with tension as he struggled to keep his breathing steady.

“Hm?” Jiang Yibai was staring at the long line of his neck, unable to resist the urge to bite. He hadn’t even caught what Si Shaorong had said.

“I think I might like… men,” Si Shaorong said. “I’m not sure. But yesterday…”

He continued, perfectly straight-faced, as if it weren’t the most absurd time to have this kind of conversation. “Yesterday I read your story. I… I had a reaction. I don’t know… Maybe I really am. What do you think…”

As soon as Jiang Yibai heard him say that, he completely abandoned any idea of heart-to-heart conversation or playing the role of “emotional guidance counselor.” He couldn’t help it—his hand slipped to Si Shaorong’s waist and gave a hard pinch. Si Shaorong sucked in a sharp breath.

“One time is all it’ll take to find out,” Jiang Yibai murmured again. “If you don’t want to, just say no.”

His voice was rough, and the two of them were nearly pressed together.

Si Shaorong closed his eyes. Something inside him twisted, torn between hesitation and a hunger he didn’t even know how to name.

This was the first time Si Shaorong had ever truly felt what it was like to be skin to skin with someone else. It wasn’t at all the same as that night with Qin Cheng.

That night, he’d been sound asleep when Qin Cheng crawled into his bed in nothing but underwear. Their bodies had touched just the same, but Si Shaorong had jerked awake instantly, overcome with disgust.

Qin Cheng had felt cold and too smooth, like a boneless snake writhing beside him. It had made his skin crawl.

But now, in the rising steam, Jiang Yibai’s eyes glowed with warmth. Si Shaorong couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and kissed them.

Jiang Yibai shuddered and leaned in, kissing the side of his throat. Si Shaorong clutched his hand tightly, pulling him closer. Their bodies pressed together with no space left between them, as if they couldn’t get close enough no matter how tightly they held on.

A ringing started in Si Shaorong’s ears, and for a moment, all sound dropped away.

When it finally came back, the rush of water echoed in his ears. Jiang Yibai was resting against his shoulder, and he was slumped against the wall. He stood there dazed for a while before reaching for Jiang Yibai’s hand and guiding it to rinse them clean.

Jiang Yibai finally came down from the high, reached for the loofah, squeezed some body wash onto it, and began gently scrubbing Si Shaorong’s skin. When he was done, he handed it over, and Si Shaorong returned the gesture in silence.

Neither of them said a word. They finished washing quietly, turned off the water, and opened the door. The rush of cooler air from outside poured into their lungs, and only then did their sluggish minds begin to stir again.

A voice in Jiang Yibai’s head cried out in disbelief. You actually hooked up with him? The Great Master didn’t push you away? Jiang Yibai, are you dreaming right now?

But another voice shouted back. Jiang Yibai, you fucking legend.

Si Shaorong, half-dazed, tugged a T-shirt over his head, still struggling to process everything. A wave of nervousness hit him out of nowhere, though he couldn’t quite say what exactly he was afraid of. He didn’t dare look at Jiang Yibai directly, but couldn’t stop sneaking glances at the man’s profile.

And when Jiang Yibai finally turned to look at him, he quickly averted his eyes. “I’m going back to my room,” he muttered.

Jiang Yibai gave a vague “mm,” and Si Shaorong turned and fled.

Left alone in the living room, water still dripping from his hair, Jiang Yibai stared at the closed bedroom door.

His pulse was still racing, but slowly, his thoughts began to clear.

Did I mess up again?