YMW CH 62

First Snow

Cen Wu cupped Xie Guilan’s face and gave it a gentle squeeze. Xie Guilan’s dark, peach-blossom eyes stared back at him, looking eerily gloomy under the dim hospital corridor lights, but Cen Wu wasn’t afraid.

Still, something felt off.

Only then did he realize Xie Guilan was half-kneeling beside his knee. Nurses and patients were coming and going even at this hour, and his face flushed abruptly. He quickly reached out to pull Xie Guilan up. “G-get up.”

“Feed me.” Like a duke, Xie Guilan lowered his head onto Cen Wu’s lap, waiting to be fed.

Cen Wu: “…”

First, he had to feed the little dog at home, and now this grown man outside.

A nurse stepped out to buy dinner for Song Lingwei and nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight, as if she’d seen a ghost in the middle of the night.

She had been hired by Xie Guilan to care for Song Lingwei. Xie Guilan always carried a cold, oppressive air about him—nothing like a high school student—while Song Lingwei had a much gentler temperament. The nurse hardly dared to speak to Xie Guilan.

This was the first time she’d seen him clinging to someone like this, almost like he was acting spoiled. Xie Guilan had never shown such a soft expression, not even to Song Lingwei.

Meeting the nurse’s horrified gaze, Cen Wu burned with embarrassment, but he couldn’t bring himself to snap at Xie Guilan. The guy had no shame and wouldn’t care who saw them.

Besides, this was a hospital. He couldn’t make a scene—it would disturb the other patients. No hitting, no yelling, and no way to shake Xie Guilan off.

Swallowing his pride, he compromised. “Fine, just… get up, and I’ll feed you, okay?”

Xie Guilan grabbed his hand, nuzzled against it, and murmured something indistinct before finally sitting properly beside him.

Afraid someone else might spot them, Cen Wu fed Xie Guilan one dumpling after another without pause, as if trying to choke him to death—anything to make him finish faster.

Xie Guilan refused to eat anymore. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around Cen Wu’s waist, buried his face against his shoulder, and called him gege in a low voice.

The term inexplicably stirred guilt in Cen Wu, as if he were the one mistreating Xie Guilan. His heart softened again, and he gently patted Xie Guilan’s back, slowing his pace to feed him properly. “Go on, eat.”

Princess.

You should have a hundred servants waiting on you.

Xie Guilan obediently finished all the dumplings Cen Wu had brought. After packing up the thermos, Cen Wu prepared to head home. The night was heavy, shrouding all of Huaijing, and Xie Guilan had to leave for his shift at Blue Night.

Once they reached the hospital entrance, Cen Wu leaned in to study Xie Guilan’s face. Xie Guilan’s lips pressed together slightly. Cen Wu circled to the other side, bumped his shoulder, and said, “I’ll go with you.”

Song Lingwei looked fragile, but in private, she could be downright unhinged. He had no idea what she’d said to Xie Guilan, but something felt off about his mood.

“Go home.” Xie Guilan lifted his gaze—his eyes darker than the night itself—and ruffled Cen Wu’s hair.

Cen Wu swatted his hand away, refusing the head pat. Since Xie Guilan wouldn’t let him tag along, Cen Wu didn’t let him escort him home either, calling a driver instead.

“Ignoring me tonight?” Xie Guilan shamelessly followed him, leaning down to tap on the car window. Under the night sky, his peach-blossom eyes curved, his lips tilting up. “Will you talk to me tomorrow?”

Cen Wu didn’t dare look at him. Damn it, Xie Guilan is seducing me again. He urged the driver, “Go, go, hurry up.”

“Second Young Master,” the driver asked, “aren’t we bringing Xie Guilan along?”

The driver was an old hand at the Cen household. Having chauffeured Cen Wu around for so long, he knew the boy was always running after Xie Guilan. Besides, Cen Wu’s temper wasn’t as vicious as before—no more yelling or hitting—so the driver dared to tease him.

Cen Wu’s face burned red as he bristled, “Y-you take him then!”

“Alright, alright, we won’t,” the driver chuckled, quickly placating him.

Cen Wu buried his scorching face deeper into his scarf, his lashes sticking together, eyes misty. As the car pulled away, he stole a glance out the rear window.

Xie Guilan had already turned and walked out of the parking lot. Under the cold, expansive night, the young man’s tall, straight silhouette carried a lean, wind-swept sharpness, moonlight trailing behind him.

Cen Wu felt utterly doomed. I’ve reached the point where I can’t even bear to see him walk alone at night. He patted the car seat awkwardly. “Uncle Zhang.”

The driver: “…”

These two. Of course they had to turn back.

With a practiced, almost piteous ease, the driver swung the wheel around. By the time they reached the other exit of the parking lot, Xie Guilan was just stepping out.

Cen Wu stayed silent, lips pressed tight. The driver rolled down the window and called, “Young Master Xie, hop in. I’ll give you a ride.”

“…” Xie Guilan paused. “Thanks.”

Cen Wu shot him a sidelong glance. When Xie Guilan met his eyes, those alluring, crimson lips curved slightly. The boy still carried a chilling gloom, but his face was downright mesmerizing.

For a dazed second, Cen Wu nearly smiled back before hurriedly stiffening his expression.

Xie Guilan got in. The driver dropped him off at Blue Night’s entrance before finally taking Cen Wu home.

---

Blue Night was packed tonight. Even Ji Changyu hadn’t found time to slack off. Spotting Xie Guilan, he waved urgently. “Lao Xie, hurry up and change. We’ve got a liquor run upstairs later.”

Xie Guilan didn’t answer, heading straight for the locker room.

Both he and Ji Changyu were stuck working overtime. By 3 a.m., the bar was still pulsing with life—neon lights swirling, the dance floor boiling under shifting blue spotlights. Suddenly, the manager called out, “Xiao Xie! Where’s Old He? Go check the back door.”

Old He was Blue Night’s warehouse keeper. When the delivery guys were swamped, he sometimes helped haul stock. Tonight, he was supposed to bring in a truckload of beer, but he was over an hour late.

After delivering drinks to a VIP booth, Xie Guilan set down his tray and headed to the back. Blue Night was upscale, set slightly apart from the main bar district, so the rear exit was deserted at this hour.

Under the neon-lit, freezing night, the delivery truck sat parked—but the driver’s seat was empty. No sign of Old He.

Xie Guilan stilled. He muted his footsteps as he approached, then froze at the soft click of a lighter in the darkness. His icy, shadowed eyes vanished into the gloom.

Instead of advancing, he retreated soundlessly.

Just then, Old He’s trembling, ingratiating voice rasped out, as if lighting someone’s cigarette. “Brother Hua, I gave you all my money—I’m really broke. Can’t you front me just this once?”

“Old He, you losing your mind?” The man called “Hua-ge” snorted. “This isn’t something you front. What if you sell me out?”

“I’d never dare!” Old He rushed to say. “You even know where my daughter goes to school back home. I just—I can’t hold out. This last batch… it made my whole body itch. I’m dying for it.”

“Watch your mouth,” Hua-ge’s voice turned dangerous. “I know about your family to protect them. You work for me, don’t you? You saying I’m threatening you?”

“No, no, of course not!”

“Then wait. One or two days max.”

Old He’s already rough smoker’s voice grated harsher in the night. “I can’t, Hua-ge. You—you’ve got some on you, right? Can’t you spare a little?”

Hua-ge lost patience. Crushing his cigarette, he turned to leave.

But Old He’s cravings spiked. Desperation reddened his eyes. Forgetting they were still outside Blue Night, he lunged to grab at Hua-ge. A low snarl escaped Hua-ge as they scuffled.

Xie Guilan watched, his dark gaze devoid of reaction. He had no intention of getting involved—but just as his hand touched the door handle, an unfamiliar voice cut through the night.

“Who’s there?!”

Both Hua-ge and Old He jolted, freezing mid-struggle. Old He nearly collapsed in fright, while Hua-ge hunched his shoulders, swallowing hard. “B-boss? What are you doing here?”

The newcomer’s face was shadowed by a sinister scar. Ignoring them, he stared toward Blue Night’s back door, then suddenly strode forward.

Confused but not daring to ask, Hua-ge and Old He scrambled after him.

Hua-ge—nicknamed for his elaborate sleeve tattoo—rubbed his inked arm, suddenly feeling the night’s unnatural chill seep into his bones.

The back door was shut tight, as if never opened.

But Scarface remained grim. He pulled on gloves, yanked the metal door open, and stalked down the long hallway.

If someone had been here, they wouldn’t have reached the end yet. If they’d fled in panic, footsteps would’ve echoed—yet the corridor stayed dead silent.

Was I wrong?

He’d seen nothing but Hua-ge and Old He arguing, yet his instincts had screamed someone’s watching.

In their line of work, survival hinged on such instincts.

Yet nothing stirred—until a janitor emerged from the cleaning closet. Dressed in dark blue coveralls, masked and capped, the figure shuffled forward, back bent with age.

Scarface’s frown deepened. Only when the janitor disappeared around the corner did he finally stalk after them—but the hallway soon opened into Blue Night’s main floor, where music and crowds swallowed all traces.

Late at night, Huaijing’s nightlife was just kicking into gear—a haze of intoxication and debauchery, the bars packed wall-to-wall with bodies.

He found nothing.

Hua-ge cautiously approached. “Boss, what are you looking for? There’s no one here.”

The reek of alcohol clung to him. Scarface turned and smacked him across the head, growling, “You got a death wish? Who told you to do business here?! With so many ears around, if you get caught, you’re dead—and Xie zong won’t spare you either!”

The manager recognized Scarface and hurried over, voice hushed. “What the hell are you doing in here?!”

Scarface couldn’t very well say his underling had nearly blown a drug deal and that higher-ups might silence them for carelessness. Tonight’s mess had to stay buried.

“Just here for a drink,” Scarface forced a grin, the gnarled scar on his face twisting with the motion.

The manager exhaled in relief. “Dao-ge, we’re swamped tonight. Rain check, alright? Don’t worry, I owe you one.”

“Fine.” Scarface clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re out.”

Blue Night’s dim lighting and tattoo-covered patrons made them inconspicuous enough.

Scarface turned to leave but suddenly pivoted, striding toward the dance floor. The VIP booths nearby showed no signs of disturbance—just a few servers milling about.

Ji Changyu felt eyes boring into his back. Puzzled, he started to turn when Xie Guilan’s arm slid over his shoulders.

The move looked casual, like any slacking bartender’s. Steering them toward the dance floor’s edge, Xie Guilan tapped a cigarette from his pack and offered it.

Baffled, Ji Changyu reached for it—then met Xie Guilan’s glacial stare. A shiver ran down his spine. Sensing danger, he played along, pretending to smoke as they walked.

Scarface combed the booths and dance floor with a scowl. Lingering would raise suspicion, so he finally left with Hua-ge in tow.

Xie Guilan released Ji Changyu.

“Holy shit.” Cold sweat drenched Ji Changyu as delayed fear hit him. “What the hell was that?”

Xie Guilan shook his head.

With the coast clear, he disposed of the janitor disguise, erased all traces, and returned to work.

Ji Changyu wasn’t book-smart, but he wasn’t stupid. Blue Night thrived in chaos, its shadows teeming with devils. He just wanted his paycheck, not whatever abyss Xie Guilan skirted.

If Xie Guilan stayed silent, so would he. Their friendship had always been like this—no prying.

Some things were better left unknown.

---

By shift’s end, Xie Guilan took two buses and looped home through back alleys.

No tails tonight.

Midterm results posted swiftly. When Cen Wu arrived Wednesday, classmates crowded the bulletin board.

He squeezed in for a look.

1st place: Xie Guilan — 743 points.

Steady as ever. Reliable.

Then he scanned downward for his own name.

589.

Nearly matching his past life’s gaokao score. Cen Wu exhaled slightly.

Class runner-up was monitor Zhou Wenqing at 729, ranking third grade-wide. Adjusting his glasses, Zhou returned to his seat without reaction, face pallid.

Cen Wu meandered back too—only to freeze as He Yao swaggered over, basketball underarm. Perched on Zhang Yuanzhou’s desk, He Yao stage-whispered, “Hey, Second Young Master. Heard about the lab building?”

“Get off,” Zhang Yuanzhou kicked him. “What about it? Stop with the spooky act and spit it out.”

The moment He Yao appeared, Cen Wu felt the breath behind him hitch, a pen stalling mid-scratch.

Unfazed by Xie Guilan’s glare, He Yao waggled his eyebrows. “Boarders from Grade 1 swear they’ve seen people in there at night.”

“Bullshit,” Zhang Yuanzhou scoffed. “It’s been under renovation since term started. Barely open in daytime, let alone—” He trailed off, goosebumps rising.

“So?” He Yao grinned. “Who’s up for some night exploring?”

Lu Wang gulped, tempted but shaking his head. His family had warned him—no haunted spots unless he wanted to “scare himself stupid permanently.”

Cen Wu also shook his head vigorously.

Deflated, He Yao retreated.

Social exhaustion weighed on Cen Wu—until icy fingers pinched his nape, jolting him upright.

Xie Guilan’s grip tightened reproachfully, as if punishing him for chatting with He Yao.

Cen Wu: “…”

All those goji berries I fed him, and his hands are still corpse-cold.

Outside, leaden skies loomed. Even the bundled-up dean shivered by their classroom door, telling their homeroom teacher, “This winter’s brutal. Might snow any day now.”

“Tell me about it.” Meng Liangping sighed. With many boarders in class, but more day students, snowfall meant treacherous commutes—and sleepless nights for him.

Yet by evening self-study, no snow arrived. Cen Wu had just bought roasted chestnuts to share when the lights abruptly died.

Faint glow from the hallway door spared total darkness. Xie Guilan’s adjusted vision found Cen Wu blinking owlishly—prompting a soft chuckle.

“Whoa! Blackout?”

“Does this mean no self-study? Can we go home? Lao Meng, have a heart!”

Meng Liangping rubbed his temples. “Quiet! I’ll check the breakers.”

Teachers from other classes had stepped into the hall—apparently, there was an issue with the school’s wiring, and no one knew how long repairs would take.

“Hold out for thirty more minutes,” their teacher said. “If the power isn’t back by then, we’ll dismiss early.”

The classroom erupted in groans.

Cen Wu simply nodded. He didn’t mind staying; in the dark, he peeled roasted chestnuts—one for Xie Guilan, one for himself, then sneakily took an extra.

Xie Guilan, slumped over his desk, caught Cen Wu’s wrist and ran his thumb over the delicate skin. Cen Wu smacked his hand away, ears burning.

Before he could scold him, something nudged his knee. He nearly kicked out—then realized it was He Yao.

“Lab building. You in?” He Yao whispered.

Lu Wang perked up immediately. “Wu-wu, I want to go. Come with me?”

Zhang Yuanzhou seemed tempted too. Sitting in the dark wasn’t fun, and their teacher had banned phone games. He crouched low, waiting for the right moment to slip out.

Cen Wu doubted anything supernatural was happening in the lab building. But when he glanced at Xie Guilan—his sharp-eyed, unfairly beautiful deskmate—he hesitated.

Xie Guilan had probably never done anything like this before. A blackout, sneaking out with classmates… these were normal high school experiences.

He wanted Xie Guilan to have those memories. Not just endless exams and family drama, but silly little rebellions on nights like this.

So Cen Wu grabbed Xie Guilan’s wrist and slipped out unnoticed.

---

The winter air was sharp enough to turn their breath to mist. The lab building stood opposite theirs, and the group reached it quickly.

“Nothing here,” Zhang Yuanzhou whispered dramatically, hunched over like a bad spy.

Cen Wu rolled his eyes. Wouldn’t it be worse if there was something?

He Yao motioned them closer. “Freshmen said it’s the east classroom. They heard voices and saw flickering lights at night.”

Lu Wang clutched Cen Wu’s arm, trembling. When he turned and met Xie Guilan’s icy stare, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Cen Wu patted his back reassuringly, then shot Xie Guilan a look. “Don’t scare him.”

Xie Guilan blinked. “I didn’t.”

The faint note of something wounded in his voice made Cen Wu’s chest tighten. He hooked their pinkies together in silent apology.

Xie Guilan’s nonexistent sulk vanished instantly.

The classroom was empty, too dark to see. Zhang Yuanzhou recklessly turned on his phone flashlight—

“What the—?!” He Yao yelped, nearly leaping into the air.

The lab building was still under renovation, and security patrolled nightly. The light immediately drew a shout:

“Which class are you from?!“

“RUN!” He Yao hissed.

Chaos erupted. They stumbled through the dark—except Xie Guilan, who moved with eerie calm—while Cen Wu’s heart pounded. No more public apologies, please.

Luckily, He Yao was an expert at escaping security. He led them to the sports field, where the guard eventually gave up.

“Still no power,” Zhang Yuanzhou said, rubbing his frozen hands. “I’m getting candied hawthorns. New flavors just dropped. You in?”

The vendor was right by the gate; they could call their orders without leaving.

Xie Guilan stared at the red mole on Cen Wu’s pale earlobe, then murmured, “I’ve never tried them.”

Cen Wu’s heart melted. How have you missed out on everything? “We’ll get some,” he declared.

He Yao grinned. “I’m checking out the lab building’s second floor. Haven’t seen the renovations.”

Xie Guilan: “I’ve never been either.”

Cen Wu, already in full indulgence mode: “Let’s go!”

He Yao stared. This guy…

He’d literally sent Cen Wu 100 Ways to Spot a Manipulative Partner last week. No reply. Had he even read it?

Lu Wang suddenly gasped, pointing up. “Look—snow!“

The first snowflakes of winter drifted down, catching on Cen Wu’s lashes. His skin glowed paler than the flakes in the moonlight.

Other students had spilled onto the field too, cheering at the snowfall. In a shadowy corner, a couple stole a kiss.

Zhang Yuanzhou and the others raced ahead toward the gate, not wanting the vendor to leave.

Xie Guilan’s dark eyes lowered. After a pause, he said, “I’ve never kissed my boyfriend at school.”

Still in full indulgence mode, Cen Wu automatically replied, “Then we should—wait.”

By the time his brain caught up, his face was burning. He tried to duck away—

But Xie Guilan was already cradling the back of his neck, bending down to press a fleeting, ice-cold kiss to his lips.