Chapter 53

Chapter 53 Chapter 53: He Linfeng, Come Upstairs.

Opening the door and letting the humid steam from the bathroom disperse, Jian Qing stood in front of the mirror and blew dry his hair.

The roaring hot air was too noisy, so he unplugged the device, subconsciously rubbed his ears, then changed into slippers and went to the balcony to hang up the washed clothes.

—He said he was going to sleep, but if Jian Qing were really made to lie down in bed and do nothing, he would only feel uncomfortable all over.

The semi-wet fabric blocked the moonlight like flowing water, turning it into distorted, swaying “human shadows.” Few people lived in the building; under the night sky, the dark apartment blocks were so quiet one could hear a pin drop. Only the phone on the rack vibrated repeatedly in a very “nonconforming” way.

Eleven p.m. in Huaguo time.

Even with a brain muddled enough to be hit by such a “midnight horror ringtone,” Jian Qing could guess who it was.

And yet he still answered the call.

“….” Probably thinking he would hang up, the person on the other end stayed silent for two seconds before speaking: “Hello?”

Jian Qing: “Mm.”

“I saw your airport photos while scrolling Weibo…” As if casually explaining why he was disturbing someone late at night, He Linfeng laughed, then couldn’t help but interrupt himself and asked softly, “…Are you sure you’re awake?”

Jian Qing: Too many questions.

Did he sound like he was sleepwalking?

But thinking of those rows of messages he had read but not replied to, Jian Qing could somewhat understand why He Linfeng had suddenly become so foolish. Intentionally using a bit more force, he closed the washing machine lid and said flatly:

“Insomnia.”

“Doing housework.”

He Linfeng laughed softly, his shoulders shaking.

He naturally had a good voice—no need to put on an act, it was already effortlessly charming, magnetic and pleasant.

Yet Jian Qing still frowned at it: “What are you laughing at?”

“Because you’re cute,” He Linfeng praised without restraint. “Want some bedtime-story service? I haven’t finished reading that ‘Trace Evidence Examination Tutorial’ from last time.”

He said it so naturally, as if Jian Qing had merely gone on a business trip, and all he needed to do was reopen the book that had been left half-read at the bedside.

A soft temper, like a trap.

“Don’t worry, no forced sales,” the man added, “I absolutely don’t mean to pretend to be pitiful to make you feel guilty.”

Jian Qing was certain—it was a trap.

Afraid of not even being able to remain friends, the other party even expressed his dissatisfaction in a roundabout way, using soft, teasing complaints to reveal just a hint of grievance, waiting only to see whether he would step into it.

Jian Qing knew he should brush it off.

Even without receiving comfort or apology, with He Linfeng’s personality, he would still be able to soothe himself.

The novel had not yet reached its ending. They would still be drawn into all kinds of cases, inevitably interacting again and again. As a qualified capitalist, he should maintain this subtle distance at all times, freely making use of the convenience brought by “Major Case Team Consultant He,” and always be ready to intervene in the plot.

He might end up saving many people because of this.

Like Qu Tao, like Xu Hao.

He Linfeng was persistent yet sensible, upright yet principled. His kindness never pressured others, nor would it ever cost someone their life.

“I’m sorry,” even though his mind had already mapped out the optimal solution, Jian Qing’s mouth seemed to have a will of its own, “The doctor prescribed me sleeping pills. In the future…”

He wanted to say: in the future, there would be no need for those bedtime stories adapted from textbooks anymore.

He wanted to say: in the future, there would be no need to keep in such frequent contact anymore.

He wanted to say: a so-called “jinx star,” constantly dragged by fate and often pulling friends and family into cases, had neither the qualification nor the capacity to start a relationship.

He Linfeng was a smart person—he would definitely understand his refusal.

But just as those syllables were about to spill out of his throat, as if possessed, Jian Qing standing by the window suddenly looked down.

A familiar modified jeep was parked downstairs.

Deep into the night, the entire residential area seemed to have fallen into a sweet, heavy sleep together. The car lights were off, and the “steel beast” was rendered by moonlight into a blurred, hazy shadow.

For some reason, Jian Qing’s throat tightened. It felt like swallowing a piece of ice in winter wind, or swallowing an entire chopped chili pepper in summer.

“In the future…” as if his brain short-circuited, the young man on the high balcony repeated, “In the future…”

He Linfeng cut him off: “We’ll talk about the future in the future.”

“Right now, all you need to do is, like me, cover yourself with a blanket and obediently close your eyes to rest.”

Jian Qing: “Like you?”

“Yeah. I’ve memorized the whole bedtime project,” the man on the other end said, deliberately yawning, “Or do you want to hear a kitty meow?”

Jian Qing: He was wrong.

The degree of He Linfeng’s foolishness far exceeded his expectations.

Burning himself to light up others—what exactly could one gain from that?

“Fine,” Jian Qing enunciated coldly, “Let it meow then.”

He Linfeng, busy searching for the electronic version of Trace Evidence Examination Tutorial: …

Vaguely sensing something, he leaned out of the car window and looked up at the pitch-black seventh floor, testing carefully:

“Meow?”

Jian Qing let out a breathless laugh of anger.

“He Linfeng.” He called the man’s full name, then hung up the phone:

“Come upstairs.”

Two minutes later.

Rapid, hard-to-conceal footsteps woke the corridor light.

“There was progress in the forensic department. Captain Yan and I ran around several places to collect samples,” He Linfeng explained, knocking on the slightly ajar door with his knuckles, “We were covered in dust and dirt, it would’ve affected my looks, so I didn’t think about coming to see you.”

Inside, Jian Qing pressed his lips together.

The door wasn’t even properly locked, and this person still wanted to be personally invited in?

“Lying and coming to your building was my fault,” the man lowered his head without hesitation. He paused, then added, “But that new coat you picked is really beautiful. The waist fits you perfectly, I…”

Jian Qing could no longer endure it.

One foot stepping out of the entryway, he emphasized, “I didn’t choose it.”

He was just afraid the cold weather would worsen a possible cold.

Unexpectedly, the next second he met the man’s sly, smiling fox-like eyes.

“I wanted you to open the door for me.” With scheming logic spoken as if it were completely justified, He Linfeng softened the end of his sentence into something almost coquettish.

Moving forward unhurriedly, he naturally used the young man’s step-by-step retreat to “enter the house” while casually chatting:

“How’s the scenery in A City?”

“I heard you can see the sea there.”

His usually carefully styled hair was now messy and uneven. At this moment, He Linfeng looked somewhat disheveled. Only then did Jian Qing notice the elevator display was stuck on “1,” and realize he hadn’t heard the clear “ding.”

“The numbers were changing too slowly, so I simply took the stairs for some exercise,” He Linfeng said, casually closing the door behind him to block the young man’s view. He curved his lips. “Were you waiting a long time?”

Jian Qing: “…I was on a business trip.”

Not out having fun.

He Linfeng dragged out his tone: “Oh~~~”

Jian Qing looked up.

“I answered your first question,” He Linfeng said, slightly bending down. Under the warm glow of the floor lamp, he suddenly leaned close to Jian Qing’s nose, “What about the second?”

Instinctively, Jian Qing reached out to cover that smiling face and pushed him away.

He was already starting to regret calling this person upstairs on the phone just now.

“I’ve already apologized,” Jian Qing said, his calf pressing against the shoe cabinet as he adopted a posture of showing the guest out, “You can leave now.”

He Linfeng: “From your place to mine takes half an hour by car.”

Jian Qing: ?

He Linfeng: “I pulled an all-nighter again last night.”

Vaguely guessing what the other party was about to say, Jian Qing opened his mouth—but was too late to stop him.

“So,” with faint dark circles under his eyes, the man blinked hard to shake off sleepiness and asked pitifully, “can you give me a sofa to sleep on?”

Jian Qing: …

He could distinguish what was real and what was fake.

And precisely because of that, refusing became difficult.

Retracting the hand that had been blocking the man’s path, he turned around.

He Linfeng: “So that’s a yes?”

“Drowsy driving increases the risk of crashing,” Jian Qing adjusted his glasses, his tone icy, “I’m just afraid you—”

What cut him off was a warm, complete hug from behind—briefly encircling him, then instantly releasing.

Like a wind-up doll whose spring had been removed, Jian Qing froze stiffly in place, moving in awkward, mismatched steps, the tips of his ears visibly burning red.

Nothing at all.

He thought.

Anyway, it wasn’t the first time he and He Linfeng had physical contact.

However, after the minute hand ticked past two numbers, Jian Qing—who had already lain down in bed and was trying to cultivate sleepiness—still felt an inexplicable discomfort, as if waiting for the medicine to take effect.

The place where the man’s chin had brushed past still seemed to retain some kind of warm illusion.

His fist itched.

But the culprit was in the bathroom.

The bedroom had been specially soundproofed; he couldn’t hear anything from outside. Staring at the ceiling in a daze for more than ten seconds, Jian Qing suddenly sat up, put on his shoes, and went to the living room.

He needed to talk to He Linfeng about boundaries in their interactions.

Even if the other party really treated him like a large dog, there was no reason to just randomly pounce on people.

Yet this time, He Linfeng was unexpectedly slow.

One sip.

Two sips.

Half a cup of mineral water that had been taken with medicine was soon emptied, and the originally upright young man gradually tilted toward the left side of the sofa.

Thud.

The matching throw pillow trembled slightly.

When He Linfeng finished tidying himself up and came out, what he saw was this completely defenseless, peaceful scene.

He was half a head taller than Jian Qing, and his frame was also larger. Fortunately, the loungewear was loose enough that only a small section of wrist and ankle was exposed.

Probably just came out of the bedroom, the young man wasn’t wearing glasses, and his slippers had been kicked aside. He Linfeng gently picked up the newly opened medicine box on the coffee table and silently checked the ingredients.

As expected, he was sick.

Not just using “insomnia” as an excuse to give himself an out.

Even while sick, he still put up with his nonsense—Jian Qing’s special treatment toward him was probably only something Jian Qing himself failed to understand.

“What do you want to talk about?” He Linfeng crouched down on one knee, staring at the sleeping young man’s face. Taking advantage of the fact that the other couldn’t refute him, he added, “Forget it, it’s probably something I don’t want to hear.”

The curled-up young man’s eyelashes trembled. His left hand moved twice, seemingly searching for a blanket, and in the end he randomly grabbed something warm, covering half his face and ear.

The hand on his right wrist being “held hostage,” He Linfeng let out a soft laugh.

“Don’t like me talking too much?”

“Mm?”

Of course, the sleeping young man couldn’t respond.

He only tightened his grip on whatever was being used to cover his ears.

He Linfeng let out a faint sigh.

“Inviting the wolf into the house.”

Did he really take him for some saint?

The next day.

Jian Qing was woken by intense, blazing white light pouring in.

The bedroom’s velvet curtains were usually drawn tightly shut year-round. After losing his parents, he had rarely experienced anything like this again. For a moment, he even thought he had fallen back into a nightmare, his heart instinctively pounding violently, breaking out in a cold sweat across his back.

It was only when he realized that this time, he wasn’t alone.

A strange warmth came from his fingertips. Jian Qing slowly adjusted his eyes, still dazzled by the sunlight, and through the piercing white light he hated and feared most, he saw He Linfeng.

The surrounding floor was carpeted. With legs that were slightly too long for the space, the other man was half-crouched beside the sofa in a somewhat cramped posture, his right hand intertwined almost finger-by-finger with his.

After complaints from the residents were addressed, the apartment’s heating had been turned up sufficiently. A fluffy blanket was fully spread out, covering the gaps created by their positions, wrapping the two of them in a way that felt both distant and intimate at once.

Jian Qing, who had never once “shared a bed” with anyone since adulthood, felt extremely awkward.

He tried to pull back the hand that was firmly held near the other man’s lips, but failed. Suppressing the urge to resort to force, Jian Qing called out: “He Linfeng.”

“Mm.” The man, who had just survived an all-nighter two days ago, was extremely drowsy. Yet upon hearing the young man’s voice, he still forced himself to perk up, lifting his head with a hazy smile:

“Good morning.”