Chapter 69: ·

Heard that when people are stressed, all their senses sharpen up. Cats are probably the same.

Fei Bolin saw Wen Fu's lashes flicker the same way the surprise and confusion in his eyes did, then the tips of his ears under his hair twitched slightly.

But Wen Fu didn't pull away. The lashes he'd lifted dropped right back down, and he just held Fei Bolin's gaze, probably wondering if this meant something more between them.

Fei Bolin's breath came through the slow, soft kiss. Wen Fu tasted a hint of alcohol on his tongue—cold, with a touch of fruit-and-grain sweetness—and that clean scent Fei Bolin always carried.

Wen Fu's brow creased slightly. He didn't know if other people in families licked each other like this. Fei Bolin's kiss looked soft and drawn-out, but the hand on the back of his neck had a death grip on him—Fei Bolin wasn't letting him retreat an inch.

He caught the one or two soft breaths tangled in Fei Bolin's drawn-out exhale, and they shut out the rustle of wind through the leaves above them. Everything else was blurry except the embrace in front of him, the faint smell of alcohol, the exploratory deep kiss.

The wind was blurry. The neighbors chatting ten meters away were blurry. The singing at the Alley Entrance a hundred li off was blurry. The rolling waves of the Jinsha River a thousand li away were blurry.

Wen Fu could almost hear them all, one sound layering over the next, but none of them matched the single soft breath Fei Bolin let out right under his nose.

He'd tasted every bit of Fei Bolin, and now he carried a little of that alcohol smell on himself too.

Both their lips were wet. When they pulled apart, Wen Fu's tongue was a little numb—Fei Bolin had taken too much behind that light, easy motion.

But the look he gave Wen Fu had zero guilt in it. Same flippant expression as a moment ago.

Fei Bolin tilted up the corner of his mouth, half-smiling, and asked Wen Fu, "Learned it yet?"

He's really drunk, Wen Fu thought. Tomorrow morning Fei Bolin would regret it—regret making him sit in his lap, regret making him apologize, regret sucking on each other until their tongues went numb before letting go.

Normally Fei Bolin wouldn't do this. When Wen Fu wanted to lean against him in the shower, he wouldn't even allow that.

Wen Fu didn't answer Fei Bolin. He asked back, "Like this every time?"

"Every time."

"With anyone?"

Fei Bolin bounced him with his thigh. "Not allowed."

"Not allowed what?" The bounce slid Wen Fu down a little, and he felt something pressing against his leg.

He was about to look down, but the hand Fei Bolin had on his nape moved to his cheek, thumb tipping his chin up, forcing him to look at him.

"I don't, and you don't either." Fei Bolin's thumb knuckle pressed against the bone of Wen Fu's chin. "Still not moving? Want me to teach you again?"

Drunk, his behavior was way worse than usual—every word out of his mouth stung, every syllable pricked. And yet if Wen Fu told anyone, nobody would believe him. Like everyone was sure nobody in the world threw a fit like this when drunk. But Wen Fu had run into one. And Fei Bolin's drunk fits were aimed only at him. He took the worst of it and had no one to tell.

Wen Fu frowned.

He kissed down hard and bit Fei Bolin's lip on the way.

Fei Bolin got bitten and didn't flinch, didn't even make a sound. Just lifted his gaze and stared at Wen Fu with that faint, vague smile, like he was asking, "This is how I taught you?"

Sure enough, Wen Fu couldn't bring himself to bite hard. He was exactly like a house cat raised from a kitten—no matter how sharp the fangs it bared, biting its owner never hurt, never broke skin. His teeth just nicked Fei Bolin's lower lip once, then he tried, the way Fei Bolin had just shown him, to push his tongue deep between Fei Bolin's lips and teeth.

Fei Bolin opened his mouth, and his hand went back to Wen Fu's nape.

Footsteps approached from not far away. The wet sound between their lips paused for a beat.

Wen Fu figured Fei Bolin's sense of shame had kicked back in—he still minded most of all being caught at this.

Wen Fu was about to pull back when Fei Bolin tipped his head up, grabbed the back of Wen Fu's skull, and took over, rolling his tongue against Wen Fu's.

The footsteps outside drew closer, until they were right behind Wen Fu. They slowed with a kind of dumb confusion and stopped just outside the path.

Fei Bolin tilted his head, the bridge of his nose brushing Wen Fu's. It looked like he was just shifting the angle of the kiss, but the one eye Wen Fu could see had gone completely flat.

His calm, emotionless, ice-cold gaze shot past Wen Fu's shoulder and landed straight on whoever was behind him.

It was the kid from the second floor—Xu Bai, twelve, just started middle school. Probably noticed the two figures sitting on the stone steps as he passed and stopped on instinct, only to catch Fei Bolin's blatant stare, edged with dismissal and warning.

Xu Bai knew Fei Bolin. This easygoing neighbor-brother had the best temper imaginable—he'd never use a look like that to scare a kid.

And he'd never, in broad daylight, kiss someone without a shred of shame.

Twelve-year-old Xu Bai caught Fei Bolin's eyes and broke out in a cold sweat, like he'd seen a ghost. He didn't dare breathe, just bolted.

When Wen Fu turned to look again, the path outside was empty. Not a soul.

He turned back. His thin upper lip was glistening, looking like it might be on the verge of swelling, though he didn't notice himself. "Who was that just now?"

Fei Bolin stared at his mouth and shook his head. "Don't know."

Wen Fu was sure he knew. Fei Bolin had definitely seen who it was. But Fei Bolin wasn't saying, acting like he didn't care.

"Bo-ge," he said from Fei Bolin's lap, breaking the silence to remind him, "we got seen."

Wen Fu was sure he'd heard the footsteps and the running, heard the few seconds the person had paused behind him. He didn't care, though. Hardly anyone in the Residential Complex knew him, and getting caught at this was nothing compared to the time he'd stolen money and ended up at the police station. So what if they were kissing? Everyone on TV kissed. Him and Fei Bolin kissing was nothing special.

Fei Bolin fed him, clothed him, gave him a second life. Whatever he wanted Wen Fu to do, Wen Fu would do it.

But he also knew that, knowing Fei Bolin's personality, he definitely wouldn't want anyone to see.

There was a part of Fei Bolin's heart that stayed dark and overcast—his real self was hidden there. Wen Fu knew this better than anyone: this man didn't want anyone to know what he did or what he thought.

Like them living together every day—he liked calling him "little sister," and sometimes in his dreams he'd call Wen Fu's name. Fei Bolin kept all of that locked tight in front of everyone. He didn't have to tell Wen Fu to keep quiet; Wen Fu wouldn't say a word.

But this Fei Bolin was drunk Fei Bolin. Drunk Fei Bolin showed the exact opposite of his usual self: not kind, not gentle, not warm and friendly. A belly full of bad ideas waiting for Wen Fu to step on them, eyes full of flirtation and cheap tricks.

This version of Fei Bolin couldn't be bothered to care what some passerby thought.

As for regret?

Regret was the next-day, sober Fei Bolin's problem. Not his.

His hand came down and closed around both of Wen Fu's wrists. His gaze swept every inch of Wen Fu's body like he was surveying a piece he'd crafted himself, like he'd finally had his fill tonight, like not being seen had actually been a bit of a letdown. Fei Bolin, like a big cat that'd just been fed, took his kitten home.

No wonder nobody believed it—drunk Fei Bolin moved like a perfectly normal person. He could still cook Wen Fu a late-night snack, and after the snack, he could still wash Wen Fu's hair and give him a bath.

Only when it came time to brush teeth did he get bratty again. His tall frame stood behind Wen Fu, going lazy. He draped an arm over Wen Fu's shoulder, leaning on him from the other side, bent at the waist, insisting on hanging off Wen Fu before he'd brush.

Wen Fu let him rest his head on his shoulder, splashed some water on his own face, then reached up and carefully washed Fei Bolin's face for him. In the end, he went to bed with Fei Bolin hanging off his back.

-

The next morning at 6:20, Fei Bolin woke up, driven by his internal clock, from a wave of on-and-off head pain.

It never even crossed his mind that it was because he'd drunk three cans of Beer. Anyone who drank three cans of Beer wouldn't get drunk enough for a headache—that sounded like a joke. Fei Bolin figured he'd caught some wind last night and was showing cold symptoms this morning.

But how he'd caught the wind, he couldn't remember for the life of him.

His last memory of last night stopped at the moment Xie Yining said she wanted to go study in Florence. After that, his brain was a blank.

An arm was draped across his waist.

Wen Fu, same as always, was wrapped around him with arms and legs, sleeping. Messy hair covered his forehead, the space between his brows pressing right into Fei Bolin's shoulder.

Fei Bolin rubbed his temple, gently lifted Wen Fu's hand off, got out of bed on his own, turned off the electric fan, and went to the kitchen to boil noodles.

When the noodles were done and brought out, Wen Fu had, as usual, already washed up and was sitting at the table waiting. Fei Bolin had just set the bowl down when he noticed a bit of toothpaste foam at the corner of Wen Fu's mouth, so he grabbed a tissue to wipe it.

Mid-wipe, something felt off.

The corner of Wen Fu's mouth and his upper lip were a little swollen.

Fei Bolin tossed the tissue and, watching Wen Fu bury his face in the noodles, asked, "Last night—"

He didn't finish. He caught the brief pause in Wen Fu's noodle-slurping.

"What?" He tilted his head to look at Wen Fu's expression. "Did something happen last night?"

Wen Fu finished the bite of noodles in his mouth, lifted his head from the bowl, let his gaze roam over Fei Bolin's face, and said, "Last night Bo-ge got drunk."

He didn't really want to admit it, but Fei Bolin braced himself to accept the fact—a headache was one thing, but nobody catches a cold and blacks out completely.

"How'd we get back?" he asked.

"Walked," Wen Fu said.

Wen Fu wouldn't lie to him, so Fei Bolin pressed on: "Did I do anything weird?"

Wen Fu kept his head down, eating noodles. Two or three seconds passed before he answered, "Bo-ge ran a red light."

"Did anything happen?"

Like hitting someone or a car or something.

Wen Fu shook his head. "No."

"Anything else?" Fei Bolin's gut said last night wasn't just that one thing. "Did I do anything else?"

Wen Fu looked distracted, thought for a moment, then said slowly, "Last night someone bought cigarettes. The cigarettes were twenty-five, the guy paid thirty, Bo-ge gave him fifty back."

"..."

Fei Bolin said quietly, "I watched the shop too?"

"Mm." Wen Fu nodded. "Bo-ge looked totally normal."

"Anything else?" Fei Bolin listened to Wen Fu say these things and figured they weren't a big deal, so he walked to the bathroom, squeezed out toothpaste, and came back out brushing his teeth to keep listening.

Wen Fu ate the noodles in fits and starts, his mind spinning fast as he ate, figuring out how to tell Fei Bolin about last night in a way he could handle.

"Bo-ge also blamed me," he said.

Fei Bolin's brushing hand paused. "Blamed you for what?"

Wen Fu looked at his chin. "For the bruise I gave you."

Fei Bolin followed his gaze and naturally understood which wound he meant.

But he was a little surprised. How could he have blamed Wen Fu?

Let alone that he only dared speak the truth when drunk—Fei Bolin searched his heart, ten thousand honest thoughts in his head, and not one of them had ever blamed Wen Fu.

"Did I make you do anything?" He pushed off the wall he was leaning against and stood up straight, looking deadly serious.

"You made me apologize." Wen Fu still wasn't getting to the bottom of it.

"Did you?"

"I did."

Fei Bolin pressed, "How'd you apologize?"

Wen Fu's eyes dropped. After two seconds of quiet, he said, "You held me."

Fei Bolin, as expected, straightened up his tone. "And then?"

Wen Fu turned his head, watching his face, and saw a trace of gravity and lurking panic in his eyes.

His inner thoughts never showed on his face, but the one looking at him was Wen Fu, and Wen Fu could read every last bit of emotion in his eyes.

Fei Bolin was genuinely worried he'd done something out of line last night. He wouldn't allow himself to cross a line with Wen Fu when he wasn't sober. Like the second Wen Fu said it out loud, he'd be drowned in regret and never be able to forgive himself.

Too bad everything sober Fei Bolin wouldn't let himself do, drunk Fei Bolin had done for him.

So Wen Fu told him his first lie.

Wen Fu said, "There was no 'and then.'"