YMW CH 63

Stingy

The first snow fell in thick flurries, leaving most of the school shrouded in darkness. Xie Guilan’s cold lips pressed against his—not forceful, but deliberate, lingering just enough to make Cen Wu’s breath hitch.

The friction between their lips burned, melting the snowflakes caught on Cen Wu’s trembling lashes.

Snowy nights had a way of brightening the dark, but Cen Wu remained rigid, terrified of being caught. By the time he gathered his senses enough to push Xie Guilan away, the other boy had already pulled back.

The sudden absence left his lips cold, the brush of snowflakes against them only deepening the hollow ache in his chest on this freezing night.

Cen Wu pursed his lips, then suddenly stiffened as his ears turned bright red, glaringly obvious against the snowy night—as if he desperately wanted to kiss Xie Guilan.

Xie Guilan lowered his gaze, staring at the crimson tips of his ears, and naturally didn’t miss the chance to tease him. Brushing the snow off Cen Wu’s hood, he murmured softly, “Another kiss?”

“Who… who wants to kiss you?” Cen Wu lashed out with a kick, flustered and indignant. “I’m not… not dating you.”

Xie Guilan took the kick squarely without dodging, then chuckled lowly, his tone lazy, shameless, and infuriating. “Mhm, I’m dating you.”

Cen Wu: “…”

Cen Wu couldn’t hold back. He reached out and pinched Xie Guilan’s face—what kind of person was this? How could someone’s skin be so thick?

Xie Guilan tilted his head slightly, obediently letting him pinch. His dark, peach-blossom eyes gazed at him intently, brimming with tenderness and a hint of sickly infatuation, his pupils reflecting Cen Wu’s small figure.

Cen Wu’s fingers froze. His throat bobbed slightly. The first snow of the year was always intoxicating, and his chest swelled with something unspoken, nearly spilling over.

Just then, a furious shout erupted from behind them. “Which class are you from?! What are you doing?!”

Cen Wu jolted in fright, the dangerous emotions instantly scattering. He shoved Xie Guilan away hard, putting distance between them. Xie Guilan’s cold, fierce eyes darkened abruptly.

The dean, his bald head gleaming, stomped through the snow toward them, fuming. “Caught you, huh? Come here, let me see who you are!”

The school had a blackout, so he hadn’t seen clearly—just two figures standing by the lab building. But years of experience told him something was off.

Earlier, he’d been drinking tea with the principal in the office, watching the first-year students leave for the day from the window.

Then, without warning, snow began to fall. This year’s first snow had descended upon Huaijing, enveloping the entire campus. The glow from the food stalls outside the school gates lent a peculiar kind of romance to the scene.

He’d set down his teacup and rushed out, promptly catching several couples sneaking kisses. This season always brought a bountiful haul—when snow fell, he knew it was prime hunting time.

He’d just berated a few young couples into tears, sentencing them to stand in his office and write self-criticisms. He’d thought his work for the night was done, but here were two more stragglers by the lab building.

Furious, the dean rolled up his sleeves and marched over—only to pause in surprise upon recognizing them. “…Xie Guilan?”

Xie Guilan’s face was icy, clearly in a foul mood, staring at him with the disdainful look one reserves for meddling old men. At 190 cm tall, Xie Guilan loomed over the dean, forcing him to crane his neck to meet his gaze.

“Why aren’t you in evening self-study? What are you doing hiding here?” The dean eyed them suspiciously. “And standing so close?”

Unable to take on Xie Guilan, he fixed his glare on Cen Wu, suddenly leaning in so close that Cen Wu nearly buried his face in his own chest. “Speak!” he barked.

Cen Wu wilted under the intimidation, looking pitiful. Xie Guilan frowned, then reached over to brush the snow off Cen Wu’s hood again, his tone indifferent. “There was snow on his clothes. I was helping him clean it off.”

“That’s it?” The dean remained skeptical—Cen Wu’s lips looked suspiciously red.

Just as Xie Guilan was about to reply, Lu Wang noticed the situation and yanked Zhang Yuanzhou over, launching into an exaggerated performance.

“You’ve got snow on you!” Lu Wang’s acting was over-the-top as he pounded Zhang Yuanzhou’s back with excessive force. “Let me get that for you.”

Zhang Yuanzhou nearly coughed up a lung from the beating, but he caught on fast. Grabbing Lu Wang, he retaliated with equally vigorous slaps. “Yeah, me too. Let me help you out.”

There was definitely some personal grudge mixed in—their down jackets thumped loudly under the assault.

“Hey, hey, hey!” the dean shouted. “Stop that! Who said you could fight?!”

“We’re not fighting,” Zhang Yuanzhou threw an arm around Lu Wang’s shoulders, putting on a righteous front. “This is just how bros mess around. Come here, buddy, let’s hug it out. Tell me what’s on your mind…”

The dean: “…”

He even started singing.

He Yao gritted his teeth, certain Xie Guilan had been up to no good—but he didn’t want Cen Wu dragged into writing a self-criticism.

Locked in a staring contest with the dean for a few seconds, He Yao finally reached out and brushed the snow off the dean’s shoulders.

See? Perfectly normal behavior. Nothing suspicious here.

The dean: “…”

He Yao: “…”

“Get lost,” the dean finally snapped, though a hint of amusement leaked into his scolding. “The power’s coming back soon. Get your asses back to class.”

Zhang Yuanzhou gasped. “I haven’t bought candied hawthorns yet!”

The lab building was close to the school gates—a quick sprint there and back wouldn’t take more than three minutes. The dean lifted his wrist, silently starting a countdown. He didn’t say a word, but Zhang Yuanzhou got the message.

“Quick, quick!” Zhang Yuanzhou urged the others. “What flavors do you want? I’ll go buy them now.”

Cen Wu asked for lychee-flavored candied hawthorns. Xie Guilan chose the same. Once Lu Wang and the others had put in their requests, Zhang Yuanzhou took off like a shot. They made it back to the classroom just before the power returned.

“Seriously?!” A classmate glared at them in outrage. “Who said you could go buy those?!”

Why did they have to sit here starving while these guys got snacks?

He Yao and Zhang Yuanzhou’s candied hawthorns were immediately swarmed. Several berries were snatched away. He Yao managed to keep one hawthorn berry, but Zhang Yuanzhou’s last piece had already been half-eaten by someone.

Zhang Yuanzhou gagged. “Who the hell—ugh, just finish it if you’re gonna bite it!”

Cen Wu and Lu Wang shared theirs with the girls nearby, keeping only one or two berries for themselves. The few skewers were divided among the whole class. Meng Liangping watched from the lectern, torn between pity and exasperation.

…Was no one going to offer him any?

Clearing his throat, Meng Liangping clasped his hands behind his back and paced the aisle, stopping to stare pointedly at Xie Guilan.

Xie Guilan: “…”

He had originally given Cen Wu a few berries, keeping the rest for himself. His eating manners weren’t messy—over the past few months, Cen Wu had consistently brought him meals, so he no longer starved. If anything, he ate slowly now.

But when he raised his head and met Meng Liangping’s gaze—

Xie Guilan bit down on the remaining berries, chewing them all at once without a hint of expression. The hardened sugar coating the frozen lychees made even Meng Liangping wince in sympathy.

Meng Liangping: “…”

Stingy b*stard.

But Meng Liangping didn’t press the issue. Just then, the power came back on. Shaking his head with a faint smile, he turned and walked back to the lectern.

Cen Wu reached out and poked Xie Guilan’s cheek. Xie Guilan grabbed his hand, lowering his head to nuzzle his palm with the bridge of his nose, his voice low and rough with possessiveness. “You bought these for me.”

He didn’t want to share.

What else could Cen Wu do? This was his problem child—if he didn’t spoil him, who would? But he couldn’t help worrying. Xie Guilan was so sensitive and high-maintenance—what would happen when he was gone?

Who else would indulge him like this?

Lu Wang was done. He didn’t even know why he was still trying so hard to cover for them. These two acted like they weren’t even afraid of being outed, and Meng Liangping up front looked approving.

Was he the crazy one, or was it the whole world?

Cen Wu only poked Xie Guilan once before quickly withdrawing his hand. He turned away and dutifully focused on his evening self-study.

Night classes for second-year students ended at 10 PM. Now that winter had arrived, the nights were too cold, and Guan Xingxue had sternly ordered Cen Wu to take the family car instead of walking home alone. Reluctantly, Cen Wu gave up his usual routine of going home with Xie Guilan.

When they reached the school gate, Cen Wu was about to ask the driver to drop Xie Guilan off at Lan Ye first. But Xie Guilan, walking behind him, suddenly paused, his gaze flickering toward the dark alley nearby.

A shadow darted past.

Xie Guilan lowered his head and adjusted Cen Wu’s scarf for him.

Cen Wu’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, his eyes unconsciously lingering on Xie Guilan’s lips—pale red, cold and aloof in appearance, yet unexpectedly soft when kissed.

Xie Guilan’s dark, peach-blossom eyes lifted, and suddenly, the corner of his mouth quirked up. He leaned in slightly and murmured, “Be good. Next time.”

Cen Wu jolted, only then realizing he’d been staring at Xie Guilan’s mouth. His fair skin flushed instantly, and he wished he could just vanish on the spot.

Since when did he want to kiss a man’s lips?!

Xie Guilan opened the car door for him, shielding the upper edge with his hand. Cen Wu moved stiffly, like a rusted robot—when Xie Guilan told him to get in, he got in. Then Xie Guilan leaned over to fasten his seatbelt for him.

Only after the car had driven off did Cen Wu realize Xie Guilan hadn’t gotten in. But he was too embarrassed to go back, so he just sent Xie Guilan a message, telling him to text when he arrived at Lan Ye.

Xie Guilan had been meticulous about checking in lately—if he was out of Cen Wu’s sight for even half an hour, he’d send a message.

So Cen Wu wasn’t too worried.

Xie Guilan went to the hospital first. Song Lingwei had already told Xie Mingcheng about her pregnancy, and Xie Mingcheng seemed pleased. He’d arranged for her transfer to a VIP ward and hired an additional private nurse.

Though she was barely three months along, Song Lingwei’s morning sickness was severe, and she suffered from leg cramps every night, pain keeping her awake. But perhaps because she finally had hope, her complexion looked healthier than before.

“Xiao Lan,” Song Lingwei tried again, “Mom’s doing this for you. What do you have to compete with Xie Shangjing now? You’re also your father’s son—what makes you lesser than him?”

Xie Guilan didn’t react.

Song Lingwei couldn’t understand why he refused. The Xie family’s vast fortune was worth more than decades of schooling.

Xie Guilan could do it—if he just fought, they’d have everything. Why was he suddenly so cowardly?

“This baby won’t survive anyway,” Song Lingwei whispered once the nurse had left. “In the end, Mom will only have you. What are you afraid of?”

She worried Xie Guilan resented her for having another child. If things went as planned, once she married Xie Mingcheng—regardless of whether Xie Guilan was caught—this child would become his obstacle.

Xie Guilan had always known she was foolish, but not this foolish.

Even if Xie Mingcheng rarely visited, the doctors would report everything to him. And the nurse Xie Mingcheng had assigned? She was less a caretaker and more a spy.

The moment Xie Guilan stepped into Song Lingwei’s new ward, he’d spotted three hidden cameras. There was even a listening device under the bed.

Song Lingwei had known Xie Mingcheng for too long. Xie Mingcheng was cautious and paranoid—if he suspected she had dirt on him, it was only a matter of time before he had her killed.

This wasn’t a hospital room. It was a cage.

Yet Song Lingwei remained oblivious, even applying makeup again in case Xie Mingcheng visited.

For her stupidity, he would pay the price.

Xie Guilan’s expression darkened as he walked to the floor-to-ceiling window to pour water. The ward was on the 23rd floor. The snowy night was murky, the city lights of Huaijing veiled in a thin haze—he couldn’t see who might be waiting below.

He was being watched.

He knew Lan Ye had drug dealers operating in the shadows. There was something hidden underground—he’d once found charred gambling chips near the trash. The club might even be a front for an illegal gambling den.

None of this surprised him. He had no intention of leaving Lan Ye. Life was already a tightrope walk over an abyss—one misstep, and you’d shatter.

Demons lurked everywhere.

Just like Song Lingwei—born in a rural village, her father a violent drunk, her mother favoring her younger brother while abusing her and her sisters. As an adult, she’d followed a fellow villager to Huaijing, hoping for work, only to be sold to a nightclub.

After years as a hostess, she’d met Xie Mingcheng and thought she’d found salvation.

But her real suffering had only just begun.

Xie Guilan had learned young—no one could be trusted. Not even Song Lingwei.

When he was five or six, he’d realized she’d tried to strangle him in his sleep multiple times. For some reason, she’d always stopped. After that, he never slept deeply again.

She’d wanted to destroy him, too. To Xie Guilan, the fact that she’d stopped meant she loved him, in her own twisted way.

That was why he couldn’t understand Cen Wu.

Why was Cen Wu so good to him? So good it defied all logic?

He kissed Cen Wu because he wanted to—but also to provoke him, to see how far he could push before Cen Wu truly lost his temper.

Cen Wu often scolded him and had even slapped him before—it stung, but in a way that left him craving more. He wanted Cen Wu to hit him again, but Cen Wu never slapped him as hard as that first time.

Xie Guilan’s eyes darkened. Xie Shangjing got off too easy.

It wasn’t that he had some masochistic streak—he just liked it when Cen Wu hit him. Because even when Cen Wu struck him, there was no hatred in it. At most, Cen Wu was flustered and angry, but no matter how mad Xie Guilan made him, he still ached for him. He let Xie Guilan cling to him like a parasite, draining him of love.

No matter how much he took, it was never enough. Cen Wu never got truly angry—just sighed and reached out to rub his cheek.

So stupid.

Always getting tricked.

Love was supposed to hurt. But Cen Wu refused to give him pain, and that, in itself, was its own kind of torment.

He wanted to spam Cen Wu with messages—dozens, hundreds of them. If Cen Wu ignored him, it would hurt. But if Cen Wu replied to each one, that also felt like having his flesh carved open.

The moon had long disappeared behind the snowstorm outside. The hospital room was too high up, the building swaying faintly in the wind. Xie Guilan had to admit—Song Lingwei was right. He shouldn’t have gotten close to Cen Wu.

But the moment he saw him, he couldn’t help himself. Like a starving dog, he trailed after him, desperate to lick his hand.

Xie Guilan’s pale, beautiful face was swallowed by the darkness of the snow-filled night. He fell into a long silence, so unnerving that even Song Lingwei didn’t dare speak, watching him like a frightened quail.

His fingers tightened. So many times, he’d felt the urge to just jump. He should have been torn apart like Chen Weiguo—then no one else would have to suffer because of him.

“Xiao Lan…” Song Lingwei finally whispered, clutching the sheets, too scared not to call out.

Xie Guilan lowered his gaze. His fingertip accidentally brushed the screen, tapping the little cat sticker.

It wasn’t intentional. His heart lurched, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

But Cen Wu had already replied.

【Cen Wu: peeking cat.jpg】
【Cen Wu: Hey hey.】
【Cen Wu: I’m here.】