YMW CH 66
by LinnaceChristmas Eve
Cen Wu had injured the back of his head and couldn’t sleep lying down. Even on his side, it was uncomfortable. By midnight, the painkillers had worn off, leaving the wound numb, but he remained deeply asleep—though his lips were pale.
Cen Xiao thought he heard Cen Wu whimper softly, so he got up to check. To his surprise, he found Xie Guilan already by the hospital bed.
Xie Guilan had lifted Cen Wu into his lap, cradling him like a child, letting him sleep against his chest so the wound wouldn’t be pressed.
The snowlight outside the hospital cast a cold, quiet glow over the room, but the two boys nestled together seemed to ward off all the winter’s chill. They didn’t look cold at all.
Xie Guilan lowered his head, brushing his lips against Cen Wu’s soft black hair. Then he cupped his face, gently kneading his cheeks before tucking the blankets snugly around him. His hand patted Cen Wu’s back in slow, soothing circles.
Cen Wu’s lashes fluttered slightly, but he didn’t wake. Instead, he nuzzled further into Xie Guilan’s embrace, finding a comfortable position before settling back into sleep.
Cen Xiao paused but said nothing, turning away silently.
He got up multiple times throughout the night, each time expecting Xie Guilan to have gone to bed—but Xie Guilan was still holding Cen Wu, barely even shifting his posture.
Only when Cen Wu let out a faint, uncomfortable murmur did Xie Guilan adjust his hold slightly.
Cen Xiao: “…”
Damn, bro. You’re really down bad.
He didn’t even know what to say. If it were him, he’d also want Cen Wu to be comfortable. Back when they were kids, if Cen Wu had been sick, he would’ve carried him too—but not all night.
Besides, Cen Wu wasn’t a child anymore. Even if he was slender, he was still a 178 cm tall guy. Holding him for so long had to be exhausting.
Yet Xie Guilan clung to him like he was some priceless treasure, afraid someone might snatch him away. His arms were tight, unwilling to let go.
He was nearly a head taller than Cen Wu, making the latter seem almost small in his embrace. Cen Wu’s snow-pale cheeks were flushed from sleep, his long, thick lashes casting delicate shadows. Xie Guilan gazed down at him—then leaned in and kissed his forehead.
Right in front of Cen Xiao.
Cen Xiao: “…”
Shameless.
He was so done. He could practically feel his blood pressure rising, but there was nothing he could do. Out of sight, out of mind.
By the time the nurse came for morning rounds, Cen Wu was almost awake. Only then did Xie Guilan finally set him down, his arms stiff and his legs numb from being sat on for so long. After shaking out the stiffness, he went to buy breakfast for Cen Wu.
Cen Xiao was somewhat satisfied. He had expected Xie Guilan to wait until Cen Wu woke up on purpose—just so Cen Wu would know he had held him all night, making him feel guilty. But surprisingly, Xie Guilan didn’t.
Not bad.
Otherwise, who was he putting on that damn green tea act for?
Cen Wu’s injury wasn’t severe, but Guan Xingxue still insisted he fully recover before returning to school. So he stayed home, feeding the little dog.
Hua Bi and his gang weren’t complete idiots—they knew they couldn’t escape consequences, so they took the initiative to apologize to the Cen family. They claimed they had only meant to rob Xie Guilan and never intended to hurt Cen Wu.
The Cens were an old-money family with deep roots in Huaijing. There were undercurrents in this city that Cen Junshan was well aware of, and he had a rough idea of the kind of business Xie Mingcheng was involved in.
These thugs were just small fry. Cen Junshan had already reported them to the police, leaving their fate to the authorities.
This winter, Huaijing was buried under heavy snow. After just a few days indoors, Cen Wu found the world outside blanketed in thick white.
He had already received the paternity test results. Worried that his parents might struggle to accept the truth, he had gone all out—six tests in total. He compared his DNA with both Mr. and Mrs. Cen’s, as well as Cen Xiao’s, and also ran Xie Guilan’s against theirs.
During his hospital visits, while Xie Guilan was taking Song Lingwei for check-ups, Cen Wu had secretly plucked a strand of her hair from her pillow. He even ran a separate test between himself and Song Lingwei.
He kept everything carefully hidden. If discovered prematurely, it would cause a mess.
Since he wasn’t attending school, Lu Wang cried daily like a whimpering puppy. Xie Guilan’s icy demeanor had him sitting ramrod straight in class, not daring to fidget. Miraculously, his weekly test scores improved—by five whole points.
Five points!
Before this, his math scores had maxed out at five!
Lu Wang clutched his test paper, bawling uncontrollably. Xie Guilan, initially annoyed, scowled even darker—until Lu Wang suddenly blubbered through tears:
“Bro Xie, when you and Wu get married, I’ll cover the entire wedding! Spend however much you want!”
“…” Xie Guilan’s expression remained cold, but the mention of a wedding clearly pleased him. “Thanks,” he muttered.
Lu Wang enthusiastically launched into wedding planning, even showing Xie Guilan photos from other weddings he’d attended. Shockingly, Xie Guilan actually leaned in and examined them with genuine interest.
Of course.
He also made sure to reserve a seat at the head table for Xie Shangjing.
Song Lingwei, now three months pregnant, began suffering from heart pain again. Her back ached so badly she couldn’t straighten up, some days even struggling to get out of bed. Xie Guilan refused to help her, and Xie Mingcheng’s interest in the baby had long since faded.
As snowflakes swirled outside, the year drew to a close. A suffocating weight pressed on Song Lingwei’s chest. She wasn’t clever, but she prided herself on being a gambler—one who had never lost.
Back then, her parents had tried to marry her off in the mountains. They’d even found her a husband. Her sisters urged her to stay, but she fled the village overnight.
And in Huaijing, she made more money than she’d ever dreamed of.
She had secretly swapped the babies, ensuring her own child lived as a pampered young master in the Cen household for over a decade. Bringing Xie Guilan to Huaijing had saved her life.
Fate had always favored her.
Song Lingwei caressed her slightly rounded belly, biting her lip until she tasted blood. Her heart pounded violently. For some reason, she felt—this time, she might lose.
Her doctor insisted she terminate the pregnancy. Surviving this far hadn’t been easy; why risk her life for a child? But Xie Guilan no longer tried to persuade her. He hadn’t spoken to her in a long time.
Christmas was approaching. The bubble tea shop near the school had already set up a Christmas tree, twinkling with little lights.
This year, handmade scarves and gloves were all the rage as gifts—especially for secret crushes. The sports field was buried under snow, and during breaks, the classroom buzzed with the click-clack of knitting needles.
Xu Lingling sat in the third-to-last row, her fingers deftly working the yarn. She wasn’t knitting for anyone special—she made sweaters every winter for herself and her grandmother.
She was the best in class, capable of any stitch pattern. During breaks, classmates flocked to her for advice.
Just as she finished helping one, a shadow fell over her.
Xu Lingling looked up to find Xie Guilan looming beside her. His dark, peach-blossom eyes were fixed on her, the sharp bridge of his nose casting a severe shadow. He looked like a feral guard dog, icy and dangerous.
Xu Lingling: “…”
Xu Lingling: !!!
She shuddered. What now, bro? Pretty sure I didn’t even step into class with my left foot first today.
“I want to learn,” Xie Guilan said coolly, staring at her knitting. “Teach me.”
Xu Lingling nearly snapped “Why should I?”—since when did people demand favors like this?—when Xie Guilan dropped his chemistry notebook onto her desk.
“You can borrow this.”
Xu Lingling: “…”
Say no more, bro. Absolutely, bro.
She eagerly pulled out the chair next to her. Xie Guilan said he wanted to make gloves, so she handed him needles and began instructing him from scratch.
At first, she assumed it’d be easy. Someone as obviously intelligent as Xie Guilan should pick it up quickly.
But thirty minutes later…
Xu Lingling stared at the tangled yarn cascading to the floor, then at the bleeding puncture wounds on Xie Guilan’s pale fingers—some nearly pierced through—and fell into silence.
Maybe I don’t need that chemistry notebook after all.
Xie Guilan’s handsome face remained impassive. He refused to give up, so Xu Lingling had no choice but to keep teaching.
Her gaze lingered on his trembling hands, nostalgic. “My grandpa used to shake like this too.”
“…” Xie Guilan’s cold eyes lifted slightly. He struggled to make conversation. “Your grandfather knitted gloves?”
Xu Lingling: “Nah. He had Parkinson’s.”
Xie Guilan: “…”
Xu Lingling: “Tighter! Tighter! Or it’ll unravel again. With these holey gloves of yours, if you love her, let her catch a cold.”
Xie Guilan: “What do you mean, tighter?”
Xu Lingling: “Strangle me to death.”
Xie Guilan: “…”
Exhausted, Xu Lingling slumped back in her seat and chugged a whole cup of water like a cow at a trough before finally recovering slightly.
Xie Guilan spoke again: “I want to sew a little cat head on it.”
Xu Lingling scoffed. “Why stop there? Sew a whole family portrait while you’re at it.”
Xie Guilan pressed his lips together and fell silent. Later, during evening self-study, he sent Cen Wu a message.
【Xie Guilan: I got scolded.】
Cen Wu didn’t know who had scolded him, but it was obvious he was fishing for comfort. Xie Guilan always did this—telling him when he was tired, when he got a question wrong, all these little things that weren’t actually serious, just to cling and whine.
Cen Wu humored him like a child.
【Cen Wu: Who? How dare they scold our Xiao Xie! Cat plotting revenge.jpg】
Xie Guilan was easily soothed. He still firmly believed Cen Wu adored him—because Cen Wu never scolded him.
Well, sometimes he told him to get lost, but that didn’t count. Being scolded should make you angry, and when Cen Wu “scolded” him, he didn’t feel angry at all.
Therefore, Cen Wu doesn’t scold me.
Somehow, against all odds, the gloves were finished just in time for Christmas Eve. When Xu Lingling saw the final product, she fell into a long silence before finally patting Xie Guilan’s shoulder.
She remembered him saying these gloves were a Christmas gift for his partner.
“Bro Xie,” she said after a deep breath, “if the person who receives these gloves doesn’t immediately break up with you… they must love you to death. Like, devoted for life.“
Xie Guilan missed her sarcasm entirely. His sharp, handsome features, usually shadowed with a brooding menace, now radiated quiet happiness.
He picked up the gloves and said sincerely, “Thanks.“
“…” Xu Lingling choked. Why thank me? Just don’t drag me into it when this blows up in your face.
Cen Wu’s head injury had healed just in time for Christmas Eve. When he arrived at the classroom, he found his desk piled with gifts—dozens of apples and presents.
On top sat a pair of gloves.
Red knitted gloves.
With a green cat head clumsily stitched on the back. The seams were crooked, the cat’s mouth lopsided, radiating sheer mockery.
Cen Wu: “…”
Who did this?! Trying to kill him with ugliness?
He was so appalled he didn’t even know how to react. Who hates me this much? Then a chill ran down his spine. He turned and met Xie Guilan’s pitch-black eyes.
Oh.
You made these.
Xie Guilan pressed his lips together. He’d researched—red and green were Christmas colors. Xu Lingling had called them ugly, but he’d dismissed her as tasteless. Now, seeing the gloves in Cen Wu’s slender, elegant hands, he suddenly realized: They really are hideous.
He reached to snatch them back and toss them, but Cen Wu dodged, slipping them on instead.
Xie Guilan had even lined the inside to prevent itching, though the stitching was so uneven it felt lumpy.
But they were warm.
“…” Cen Wu struggled. He was a Berlin-winning director, for god’s sake—yet he couldn’t conjure a single believable compliment. In the end, he cupped Xie Guilan’s face and rubbed his cheeks. “Th-Thanks. I… love them.“
Xie Guilan suppressed a smile, taking Cen Wu’s hand to help slide on the other glove.
Of course Cen Wu liked them.
Cen Wu liked the gloves.
He made the gloves.
Therefore, Cen Wu liked him.
The classroom was stifling with the heater on. Within minutes, Cen Wu’s palms were sweaty, but Xie Guilan’s gaze was locked on his hands—as if removing them would trigger instant displeasure.
So Cen Wu kept them on.
That night was Christmas Eve. His desk was covered in apples, and he had no idea who’d left them.
But Xie Guilan knew.
He’d arrived early and seen He Yao, several girls from their class, and even boys from other classes stop by.
One after another.
He hadn’t even gotten to give Cen Wu his apple yet.
Xie Guilan’s dark, striking eyes fixed on the apple in Cen Wu’s hand. Cen Wu froze, unsure whether to set it down or keep holding it.
Then Xie Guilan spoke: “Young Master, let’s swap. You eat mine. I’ll eat yours.“
Cen Wu: ?
Before he could refuse, Xie Guilan stood, replaced all the apples on Cen Wu’s desk with the one he bought, then returned to his seat and bit into one with a chilling crunch.
If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was gnawing on someone’s bones. Cen Wu’s teeth ached just hearing it.
Cen Wu: “…”
Bro, those must be sour as hell.
Xie Guilan plowed through three apples before stuffing the rest into his own desk.
During break, Cen Wu got hungry and took out the apple Xie Guilan had given him. As he ate, cheeks puffing adorably, Xie Guilan secretly snapped a photo and sent it to Ji Changyu.
【Ji Changyu: ?】
[Xie Guilan: Nothing. Just wanted to say—he’s eating my apple. Only mine.]
Ji Changyu: “…”
Of course this bastard wouldn’t text anything decent.
【Ji Changyu: Wow, so jealous. Then why’s your desk full of apples?】
Xie Guilan had accidentally captured his own stuffed desk in the photo. Ji Changyu couldn’t believe anyone would willingly give this lunatic gifts.
Are they blind?
【Xie Guilan: Unimportant people gave them to him. I swapped them with mine.】
Ji Changyu: “…”
Psycho.
No wonder he’s eating yours—what else is left?! This is just forced love with extra steps.
【Ji Changyu: Sure, wish you the best.】
Xie Guilan ignored the sarcasm. He reached out and pinched the nape of Cen Wu’s neck, cold and smooth. Cen Wu shivered. He pinched again. Cen Wu shivered harder. By the fifth pinch, Cen Wu spun around and smacked his hand away, face burning.
Xie Guilan finally moved his reddened hand away with satisfaction.
Cen Wu was utterly exasperated. Scolding Xie Guilan was useless—the guy would twist anything into flirty banter. Slapping him only risked pleasuring him.
Fine then, Cen Wu thought viciously. Maybe I should just kiss him to death. Kiss him so thoroughly he’ll never want to lock lips again in this lifetime or the next.
The snow in Huaijing had piled up past their calves. Christmas Eve happened to fall on a Saturday, so school let out early. The couples in class had been itching for their dates, while Zhang Yuanzhou watched on, green with envy.
“Why?” he muttered, gnawing on his test paper. “Do single people not deserve Christmas?”
“Hey,” a classmate suggested, “what if we all go for hot pot after this? Only singles allowed!”
The idea was met with enthusiasm—even Xu Lingling was in. A rowdy group gathered at the front of the class, debating which restaurant to hit.
Cen Wu rested his chin in his hand, staring out at the endless snowfall. His mind drifted.
After Christmas, Xie Guilan would leave for closed training. The preliminary rounds were after New Year’s. By the time he returned, Cen Wu would likely be gone. This might be our last gathering.
He turned, eyes wide and pleading, toward Xie Guilan.
Xie Guilan, who would usually bend over backward for him, remained unmoved.
“Bro Xie!” Zhang Yuanzhou called, slapping the table. “You in?”
Xie Guilan pretended not to hear. Zhang Yuanzhou was baffled, but Cen Wu understood instantly.
Cen Wu: “…”
What, bro? You think you’re not single?
Xie Guilan ended up going.
On that snowy Christmas Eve, the world was strung with twinkling lights, bright and warm against the winter gloom. Cen Wu wore the gloves—festive, if not for the lopsided cat sneering at everyone.
A classmate, after enduring the cat’s judgmental gaze, finally asked, “Er Shao, what brand are those gloves?”
Everything Cen Wu owned was expensive. Even the most unassuming items could cost a fortune.
Cen Wu answered gravely, “C-custom made.”
Xie Guilan, walking behind him, smirked.
With over a dozen classmates around, he didn’t hold Cen Wu’s hand. Instead, he tugged at the hood of his down jacket.
The hot pot place was packed, half-filled with couples on dates. They claimed a large table, ordered beer, and Cen Wu drank a little too much. His eyes grew hazy as he laughed along with the others.
The restaurant was stifling. Once full, he and Xie Guilan stepped outside for air but didn’t wander far.
Past 10 PM, snowflakes caught on Cen Wu’s long lashes. The fur trim of his hood glowed under the streetlights. He tilted his head back, scarf slipping slightly.
The moon’s so high.
Dizzy, he turned to find Xie Guilan—only to be plunged into darkness.
Xie Guilan, in a long black down coat, unzipped it and yanked Cen Wu inside, enveloping him completely.
Cen Wu stumbled into his chest, startled. He struggled instinctively but couldn’t break free.
Xie Guilan was half a head taller, his arms lean and strong, locking Cen Wu in place. Only a few unruly black strands poked out from the coat.
Cen Wu shoved, pinched Xie Guilan’s abs through his sweater, stomped on his feet—nothing worked. If anything, Xie Guilan held tighter.
Finally, Cen Wu wriggled free enough to glare up, face flushed, lashes a mess.
“Wh-what are you doing?” he stammered, ears burning.
Xie Guilan stared down, his cold peach-blossom eyes dark with unconscious obsession. Without warning, he dipped his head and kissed Cen Wu’s chilled, soft lips.
Trapped, Cen Wu could only take it. Xie Guilan deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth until Cen Wu pinched him again—hard.
(Not that it fazed him. Xie Guilan’s abs were like steel. Cen Wu’s fingers hurt.)
Xie Guilan was convinced Cen Wu adored him. He won’t even pinch me properly.
But his voice, when he spoke, held none of that confidence. Nuzzling Cen Wu’s cold nose, he murmured hoarsely,
“Gege… when will you start liking me?”