Chapter 10

After we pierced through all the window paper that time,

it was as if we’d shed every heavy shackle and disguise, and drew close at an incredible speed.

We were truly together.

Not that twisted relationship of playing a substitute, but lovers in the truest sense.

At first, I was still a little cautious and uncertain, but Xu Qing quickly erased all my doubts with his actions.

He… was strangely clingy.

Completely different from the cold and aloof person I’d imagined at first.

When I sat on the sofa reading or daydreaming, he would silently come over and, as if it were the most natural thing, rest his head on my shoulder.

His hair was soft, tickling the hollow of my neck.

Sometimes, I’d just get up to pour a glass of water, and when I came back, I’d find him sitting in the spot I’d just left, holding the book I’d just put down, his gaze following me like a big cat tracking its owner’s movements.

“What are you doing?”

I couldn’t help but ask.

He kept a straight face, his eyes even a little unfocused, but the tips of his ears were faintly red, and he replied stiffly, “Nothing. It’s warm here.”

I lowered my head to stifle a laugh, my heart melting into a puddle.

He especially loved all kinds of physical contact.

Holding hands was the bare minimum.

He had to hold my hand while walking, drape his arm over me when sitting, and when sleeping… he would wrap me entirely in his arms, his chin resting on the top of my head, his heavy breaths falling over me, as if afraid I’d disappear the moment he let go.

At first, I wasn’t used to such suffocating closeness. If I moved even a little, he’d unconsciously tighten his arms and mumble, “Don’t move…”

His voice, husky with sleep, carried a rare, utterly unguarded sense of dependence.

My heart would instantly turn to chaos, and I’d obediently stay still, letting him hold me.

I discovered many interesting sides to him in daily life.

For example, he was extremely awkward about the “black history” merchandise I’d collected about him.

He’d complain, “This photo angle is awful,” “This doll looks nothing like me.”

But when I wasn’t looking, he’d secretly put a chipped acrylic stand back in the most prominent spot.

If I caught him, he’d immediately avert his eyes, pretending to look at the ceiling, his ears so red they seemed to bleed.

It was unbearably cute.

I found Xu Qing couldn’t stand me calling him cute.

Every time I said it, he’d put on a stern face, but his ears would turn translucent red.

“Don’t say ‘cute.'”

He tried to intimidate me with his gaze.

But I loved seeing him like that, so I’d deliberately lean in, blink at him, “Why not? You’re obviously so cute! Mm…”

Before I could finish, he’d cover my mouth with his hand.

I pulled his hand away, laughing in his arms, “Ah, how can you be so cute?”

And then… then I really got “punished.”

Until I was gasping for breath, begging for mercy, promising never to call him “cute” again.

We’d talk about the past, too.

About the online rumors-he’d mention offhand, “That was just the club’s deliberate hype.”

About the injury to his hand-he’d fall silent for a while before saying, “It can’t be cured.”

He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t press, just gently held his hand in return.

We took care of his little sister together, watched as color slowly returned to her pale face, and she’d timidly call me “big brother.”