Chapter 65

Mi Zhao was devastated to realize that he would never be able to escape the shadow of his past with Li Yan.

Back on the bed, Li Sipei still refused to let him get close and insisted on asking, “Were you this forward with him too?”

Mi Zhao was so anxious that he scratched his head, but he had no choice but to explain properly. “I only dated Li… that person for about six months. He pursued me, and I wasn’t very proactive.”

His words felt somewhat guilty.

After all, he had sincerely treated Li Yan as his boyfriend. In a relationship, things like going on dates and holding hands were normal, and he had certainly taken the initiative sometimes.

But now was not the time to admit that.

Mi Zhao had already figured out where Li Sipei’s jealousy triggers were, so he carefully avoided them. Clinging to Li Sipei’s shoulders, he coaxed, “It’s all in the past. There’s no point in being jealous now.”

Li Sipei shot him a glance.

Mi Zhao instantly shrank back and dared not say another word.

But his mind was still racing, trying to figure out how to brush off this topic. Just then, he felt a force guiding his hand in a certain direction.

He looked over in confusion and saw that at some point, Li Sipei had taken out the cashmere scarf he had gifted him.

The snow-white scarf was held between Li Sipei’s long, slender fingers, looking particularly pleasing to the eye. He released Mi Zhao’s hand and slowly stretched the scarf out by its two ends.

Mi Zhao looked up at him blankly. “What are you doing with the scarf?”

Before he could finish speaking, the scarf landed on his wrists.

Mi Zhao: “?”

Mi Zhao: “!”

Realizing what was happening, he tried to struggle, but Li Sipei suddenly pulled the scarf tight, binding his wrists together.

Li Sipei’s fingers pressed against his chest and gave him a gentle push.

He fell straight onto the soft bed.

Before he could react, Li Sipei leaned over him, straddling him with his legs, hovering just above.

His hands were pinned above his head, and the familiar scent that washed over him made his body instinctively go weak. Reflexively, he bent his knees slightly, curled his toes, and stared at Li Sipei with wide eyes.

“I didn’t give you that scarf for this kind of use!”

“I just have a few questions.” Li Sipei braced one hand beside his head, looking down at him from above, while the other hand slowly cupped his chin.

“…” Mi Zhao was speechless. He struggled against the scarf, but Li Sipei had tied it too tightly. “Can you untie this first?”

The fingers on his chin tightened slightly. Li Sipei acted as if he hadn’t heard him, lowering his head to kiss him lightly on the lips. “How far did you two go?”

He had wanted to ask this question for a long time.

No matter how many times he told himself that Mi Zhao was a normal adult and that having an ex was perfectly reasonable—just like having been intimate with an ex was normal—whenever he thought about Mi Zhao and that damn ex doing things he wasn’t aware of, he felt suffocated.

It was as if countless thin ropes had wrapped around his heart like a zongzi, tightening until they left deep red marks.

Again and again, he had wondered—

Why did exes have to exist?

Why did Mi Zhao have to have an ex?

It felt like he was trapped in a dead-end alley, unable to escape. The deeper he went, the more he got stuck, but if he stayed still, he would still feel the weight of suffocation pressing down on him.

Mi Zhao had no idea about the complicated thoughts twisting in Li Sipei’s mind, but at this moment, he was genuinely frightened by the obsessive look on his face. He stammered, “W-What do you mean by how far?”

Li Sipei spread his fingers and cupped one side of Mi Zhao’s face, then let his hand trail downward—brushing past his jaw, sliding down his neck, finally stopping at his chest.

The small, sensitive buds trembled slightly in the air.

He covered one with his palm, his fingers moving, but his eyes remained locked on Mi Zhao’s face. “Did he ever touch you like this?”

Mi Zhao squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling more than the tiny bud beneath Li Sipei’s fingers. His toes curled tightly, and if not for Li Sipei’s legs holding him in place, he would have curled up like a shrimp.

“No! No!” Mi Zhao practically broke down. “I didn’t even see what he looked like without clothes on!”

The hand that had been teasing his chest slowly slid downward.

“What about here?” Li Sipei paused slightly. “Did he touch you there too?”

“What the hell would he touch me there for?!” Mi Zhao was both furious and flustered. “Only you have touched me—you’re touching me right now!”

Li Sipei looked at him silently for a moment. Then, without warning, he lowered his head.

Mi Zhao was startled all over again. He instinctively tried to stop him, but with both hands tied above his head, he couldn’t move at all.

“Li Sipei, don’t be like this…”

His vision was blurred by a mist of moisture, making it impossible to see the ceiling above him clearly. It wasn’t until that mist condensed into tears and slipped from the corners of his eyes that he blinked, as if being pulled out of warm water.

Only then did he realize what he had done.

“S-Sorry.” His face flushed so red it was practically dripping blood, the heat surging as if he could burst into flames at any moment. Panic filled his eyes as he stammered, “I-I couldn’t hold back. I didn’t mean to do it in your mouth.”

Li Sipei said nothing. He simply reached for a tissue from the bedside, spat the contents from his mouth onto it.

A few thin, glistening strands stretched between his lips and the tissue.

Mi Zhao: “…”

His mind went completely blank, as if an explosion had just gone off in his head.

The only thing he could focus on was those few strands, infinitely magnified in his vision.

“Li Sipei…”

Li Sipei heard his whisper. After wrapping up the tissue, he casually tossed it off the bed, then leaned down and sealed Mi Zhao’s lips again, swallowing up all his remaining words.

The taste from Li Sipei’s mouth was pushed over to him—

A little salty, a little thick.

It had a slightly bitter, somewhat nauseating sensation.

Mi Zhao forced himself to endure the discomfort and swallow down the taste between them. Just as he finally caught his breath when Li Sipei pulled away, the next moment, a fatal question followed.

“Did you two kiss?”

Wasn’t that obvious?

They dated for six months—if they hadn’t even kissed, could they still be considered a couple? That would just be meal buddies at best!

Mi Zhao really wanted to lie and deny it, but he also didn’t want to deceive Li Sipei about something like this. He knew full well how much Li Sipei cared about these things.

“We did. There was no way around it.” Mi Zhao shrugged, then, after a brief thought, added, “But not like this. His kisses never had a fishy taste.”

Unfortunately, that last sentence did nothing to comfort Li Sipei.

Li Sipei pressed his lips against Mi Zhao’s again, grinding and rubbing insistently, as if trying to erase any traces Li Yan had left on them.

Mi Zhao cooperated by parting his lips, letting out soft, breathy sounds.

With his bound hands, he wrapped his arms around Li Sipei’s neck, his chin brushing against his ear. His voice was light and coaxing. “What’s the point of just kissing? Why don’t you fuck me instead?”

Li Sipei turned his head slightly, his light-colored irises darkening under the shifting light, emotions surging and rippling within them.

Mi Zhao kissed his eyelashes, his eyes narrowing as the corners of his lips curled up. His voice carried a seductive lilt. “He never fucked me. You’re the only one who’s ever been inside me. Isn’t that enough for you?”

Li Sipei’s breath visibly hitched. He stared at him in a daze for a moment before pressing a hand against his throat.

Mi Zhao swallowed, his Adam’s apple rolling under Li Sipei’s palm. His gaze locked onto Li Sipei’s, unwavering.

“Come on.” He tightened his arms around Li Sipei’s neck, forcefully pulling him down. “Fuck me.”

—

Li Yan had been busy lately—not with clearing up the rumors between him and Lin Qiuzu, but with something much more important.

His uncle’s birthday was coming up.

Of course, what truly mattered wasn’t his uncle’s birthday itself, but the grand banquet the Old Madam was about to host for the occasion.

Rumor had it that the event would be filled with high-profile figures from elite circles. If he could establish connections at this gathering, he could potentially save himself twenty to thirty years of hard work.

To ensure he made a strong impression, Li Yan had asked his mother to gather intel on the distinguished guests in advance. He conducted thorough background research, even going as far as to learn their favorite fruits, preferred colors, and go-to vacation destinations.

As for the rumors about him and Lin Qiuzu, he had put them on the back burner. By the time he remembered them, the gossip had already spiraled out of control—so much so that even his professor had heard about it and personally called him.

No matter how reckless or indulgent Li Yan was in private, he had always maintained the image of a well-behaved student in front of his professor. So, he played the victim, claiming that someone must have spread false rumors about him out of spite.

Whether his professor believed him or not was unclear, but after listening to his explanation, the man simply said, “Rumors can destroy people. Don’t wait until things get out of hand to start panicking. Think carefully—have you offended anyone recently? Try to find that person and resolve it privately. If that’s not possible, then report it to the authorities.”

“Got it. Thank you, Professor Chen.”

After hanging up, Li Yan stood on the balcony, letting the cold night wind blow over him for a few minutes before deciding to check in with Lin Qiuzu about the situation.

However, after calling him two or three times, no one answered.

Frustrated, he put his phone away. After a moment of hesitation, he grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the dormitory.

His roommate, who was in the middle of a gaming session, was startled by his abrupt movements and quickly asked, “Li Yan, where are you going this late?”

“I’m heading to the dance academy.”

It had been a while since Li Yan last visited the dance academy, but in the past, he had often come looking for Lin Qiuzu, sneaking around the grove behind the campus. By now, he knew the place like the back of his hand.

Making his way swiftly to the dormitory building where Lin Qiuzu lived, he was just about to step inside when he suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure in the distance.

He narrowed his eyes for a better look.

Wasn’t that Lin Qiuzu?

Lin Qiuzu was wearing a ridiculously thin leather jacket—barely a single layer—with light-colored ripped jeans. His hair was messy, as if he had just run his hands through it a couple of times. His posture was loose and sluggish as he walked.

Li Yan had been around the block more times than he could count. Just one look, and he immediately knew what had happened.

Even though he had drawn a clear line between himself and Lin Qiuzu, seeing this scene still ignited a burning rage inside him.

He strode over and grabbed Lin Qiuzu’s arm.

Caught off guard, Lin Qiuzu stumbled slightly before turning around, revealing an exhausted face.

Seeing that it was Li Yan, Lin Qiuzu was first surprised, then let out a cold laugh. “Well, well, the busy man finally remembered my existence?”

Li Yan’s eyes burned with fury, his entire body radiating a chilling aura. He stared at Lin Qiuzu in silence for two seconds before abruptly yanking down his collar.

A few red marks came into view.