WP Chapter 36

The engagement on that post was not just high. It was explosive. Jiang Yibai almost thought it looked like a New Year’s celebration under his comments section.

Of course, much of that had to do with Si Shaorong’s consistent public image. He had always come across as low-key and serious, hardworking and discreet. Aside from a long-past rumor about him potentially marrying a famous female author, his social media was almost entirely dedicated to reposting literary content and the occasional promotional giveaway.

If it had been anyone else, just being linked to the name Jiang Luanyu would have been enough to get roasted online. But the moment Si Shaorong shared the post, the comment section turned out surprisingly normal.

“Are they making it official soon?”

“Whoa, my fandom wall just cracked wide open.”

“My Male God really reads all kinds of stuff.”

“Might I suggest you check out Jiang’s full collection of extras while you’re at it?”

“Is it just me, or has Jiang Luanyu always gotten hate that didn’t quite make sense?”

“Agreed. Sure, she’s got a sharp tongue and loves to fight with fans, and yeah, she kind of goes off the rails sometimes… but the writing’s actually pretty good?”

“I don’t care what my Male God says. He’s always right.”

“Wait, who’s Jiang Luanyu?”

“Just a passerby coming in to lurk now.”

“Boop. Boarding pass scanned.”

By the end of the afternoon, the repost had already racked up over a thousand shares and more than five thousand likes. Jiang Yibai was not even that well known, but it was hard to compete with the sheer impact of a top-tier male web author reposting a BL story.

That alone was enough to spark curiosity. And once people dug deeper and found out the author in question had started out writing erotic fiction known throughout the genre for vivid smut with no moral baseline, it only added fuel to the fire.

Many who had clicked the link out of idle curiosity took one look at the title and content and immediately felt like they had been struck by lightning.

What the hell was this? A masterclass in dog food distribution?

“Two or Three Things About Me and My Male God,” written in first person, it described the story of the main character living under the same roof as their Male God.

Living with their Male God?

The character was described as a freelance creator. While the profession was never spelled out, it did not take long for fans to draw a line between this Male God and Si Shaorong. Someone even dug up one of his old posts: “Just moved into a new place.”

Everyone reacted the same way.

Heaven help us all.

Jiang Yibai did not dare to check the comments under his own post. He also could not bring himself to look at the hundreds of private messages and notifications popping up every second.

He covered his face with both hands and thought back carefully. If he remembered correctly, the last place he had stopped updating was…

Yes. Right at the part where he and the Male God had sex in the bathroom. The last sentence was “The Male God’s ass is so soft.”

Jiang Yibai wanted to eat his laptop alive. That was what he got for ending a chapter there. That was what he got for ghosting his updates. He deserved it.

Si Shaorong was perfectly calm, scrolling through the screen with a faint smile. “Look, so many people asking for the next update.”

Jiang Yibai lunged at him, snatched the phone, and pinned his boyfriend beneath him. He grabbed his face and demanded, “You read it too?”

“Hm?”

“You read that story? When? Wait—why did you even follow me?!”

Si Shaorong’s cheeks were squished in both hands. His voice came out muffled. “Since you posted the first chapter.”

Jiang Yibai let out a low, miserable groan and buried his face in Si Shaorong’s neck. “Why didn’t you say anything? Oh my god…”

Si Shaorong held back a laugh and patted his shoulder. “I think it’s really well written. Kind of like a diary, but cuter. Though some parts were… a little exaggerated.”

He cleared his throat and said, “When did I ever say ‘You’re so big and I love it’?”

Jiang Yibai snapped, “But I am big!”

Si Shaorong had his arms around Jiang Yibai’s waist and started laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Jiang Yibai sat up, slumped against the couch with a dead look on his face. “I’m doomed. Zhen-jie is going to kill me. Slowly and painfully.”

Si Shaorong did not respond.

Jiang Yibai was in complete chaos. He had to say something, anything, just to distract himself. To give his mind time to process and figure out what to do.

So Si Shaorong had read the whole thing. He had been following it all along. And now he had even reposted it publicly. What was he thinking?

No, wait, there was still a chance. Si Shaorong had only added a smiling emoji. The comments were all just speculation. He could still explain it.

All he had to do was post a clarification. Just one Weibo post saying that he and Si Shaorong were not living together, that this was a fictional story, and asking everyone not to assume anything. That would do it.

Jiang Yibai slapped the couch. “This cannot blow up. Zhen-jie worked so hard to manage your public image. You cannot throw it all away. I don’t want to die, baby.”

Si Shaorong: “…”

Jiang Yibai shoved the phone into his hand. “You just need to say one thing. Just say you thought the story was interesting and reposted it. You don’t need to explain anything else. I’ll handle the rest. Okay?”

Si Shaorong’s smile slowly faded. He looked directly at him. “You want to distance yourself from me?”

Jiang Yibai froze.

Si Shaorong pressed his lips together, then suddenly reached for the box of condoms on the coffee table. “Teach me how to use this.”

Jiang Yibai said nothing. He slowly set his phone down, finally realizing that things had already gone too far.

Maybe they had been out of control for a while now. He just had not wanted to admit it.

Thinking back to Si Shaorong’s mood the night before, and to everything he had said today, Jiang Yibai had understood it all at the time. He had just pretended not to hear it.

But now, Si Shaorong was clearly set on tearing through the last layer between them.

Why?

Jiang Yibai looked at him, his heart tangled in contradictions. There was struggle, bitterness, frustration at not being able to speak the truth, and even more guilt and anger toward himself.

Everything surged up at once. He muttered, “Are we still calling this research?”

Si Shaorong straightened up slightly. He was nervous too. He had little experience with relationships and no idea what to say to make someone happy or to make them stay.

In fact, he was starting to admire Jiang Yibai for what he had done that day in the restaurant. So bold, so straightforward, asking him to move in and suggesting they try a fake relationship for research. Now that the situation had reversed, his own back was damp with sweat. Even his legs felt weak. His whole body tingled like he had lost sensation, and every time he opened his mouth, all he wanted to do was bite his own tongue.

The room had gone so quiet that only the sound of the TV could be heard.

After what felt like forever, Si Shaorong finally heard his own voice. It sounded like it was coming from far away. “No. It’s not.”

Jiang Yibai stared at him for a while. Then he slumped into the couch like all the air had left his body, gazing blankly at some point in the air.

He regretted it almost immediately. He should not have asked. He should have let it slide and pretended none of it had happened. He sat up again and tried to salvage the moment. “It’s all just a misunderstanding. I only wrote that story because I thought it was funny. Let me post something first. You can say something later. Or no—wait. That would make it sound like I dumped you. That’s not good either. You post first. Then I’ll follow up and explain.”

Si Shaorong watched him ramble, his nose suddenly stinging. Even now, Jiang Yibai’s first instinct was to protect him. He did not want people to think it was Si Shaorong who got left behind. Jiang Yibai would rather be the one to take the jokes, the criticism, the embarrassment.

Si Shaorong lowered his head and rubbed at his brow. “Jiang Yibai.”

Jiang Yibai immediately fell silent.

Si Shaorong’s fingers tensed and curled against the fabric of the couch. “I like you. I really mean it.”

In that moment, Jiang Yibai’s feelings were so complicated he could hardly breathe. His whole body went weak below the waist. Just hearing the words I like you sent bursts of fireworks through his mind. It was like a wish had been granted, the most important wish of all. Every part of him was flooded with joy.

But none of that joy showed on his face. He looked like someone being torn in two, caught between the urge to cry from happiness and the helpless effort to seal up the gaping holes in his heart.

Some things were always meant to be lost.

Some endings were always meant to carry regret.

There would always be moments that left people wishing they had done it differently.

Jiang Yibai’s face had gone pale. His fingers curled tightly into his palms.

He said, “Ge.”

The moment Si Shaorong heard that word, his heart clenched hard.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Si Shaorong frowned. “Of course I do.”

“You don’t.” Jiang Yibai suddenly snapped, his voice sharp and frantic. He jumped to his feet, paced a quick circle around the living room, then smacked himself on the head. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Si Shaorong watched him quietly. “What were you thinking when you first offered to help me with research?”

Jiang Yibai stood with his back to him, his posture stiff and unnatural. “Then what were you thinking?”

“What?”

“You were planning to use the research excuse to test out what it’s like to date someone. What you really wanted was to figure out how to deal with a future girlfriend. The research was fake. The trial relationship was real. So what were your intentions supposed to be, exactly?”

Si Shaorong stared at him in disbelief. It took him a long time to find words. “You think this is my fault?”

“I didn’t say whose fault it is. I’m saying…” Jiang Yibai felt like the more he spoke, the more tangled things became. He waved a hand. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

He turned around and took a deep breath. “I helped you solve a problem. I became one of your story materials. Neither of us lost out. That’s what we agreed on from the start, wasn’t it?”

Si Shaorong stared at him. His voice came out tight with a pressure even he had not realized was there. That so-called research relationship had become the one thing he regretted most. “Yes.”

Jiang Yibai clapped his hands and spread them wide, as if to say there was nothing left to argue.

Si Shaorong said, “I’m not talking about research anymore. I’m telling you I like you.”

“You don’t,” Jiang Yibai said flatly, thinking he had taken control of the situation again. “You got too caught up in the character while researching. What you’re feeling now is just an illusion.”

“An illusion?” Si Shaorong’s eyes widened. He almost laughed out of anger. “What gives you the right to decide that for me?”

Jiang Yibai stood firm. “You’ve never been in a relationship. The moment someone treats you a little better or gets close to you, you think that’s love?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Si Shaorong’s voice was strained. “Should I drag someone through fire and blade, hold a knife to their throat and see if they stay, before I’m allowed to call it love? Have you been reading too many comic books?”

Jiang Yibai’s expression darkened. He stayed silent for a few seconds before saying, “Then what do you want to do?”

Si Shaorong refused to let Jiang Yibai drag the conversation into a dead end. For once, his thoughts were crystal clear. He asked, “Why did you offer to help me in the first place? Can you swear that you didn’t have any other motive?”

“I…”

“If you dare say it was because you admired me, because you liked my writing, and that you were willing to do anything to help me, even using your hands or letting me kiss you, then I’ll pack my things and leave. I won’t ever show up in front of you again.”

Jiang Yibai fell silent.

He did not have the guts to say it. And just like that, he lost his nerve.

Seeing that Jiang Yibai was not going to push things further or deliberately provoke him, Si Shaorong’s tone eased. His voice slowed down. “Do you like me or not?”

This was a first.

Usually it was Jiang Yibai who teased him until his ears went red. But now it was Si Shaorong who had turned the tables, and Jiang Yibai was the one blushing.

Si Shaorong raised an eyebrow, leaned forward slightly, and placed both hands on his knees. His posture carried the weight of a threat. “If you say no, I’m moving out.”

Jiang Yibai: “…”

This man is addicted to making threats, he thought.