BIAC CH 13

Chapter 13: Don’t Ask—the Truth Is Terrifying.

Tang He drove all the way to the outskirts of the city. Very few people knew about this narrow path—it was tucked away in a recessed spot off a main road, easy to miss when passing by. But Tang He kept driving forward until he reached the end of the road and parked the car.

Du Jianyou was still asleep. Tang He still remembered the first time he saw him sleeping—he was surprised at how someone could sleep with a smile on their face. But now, not only was that smile gone, even his brows were furrowed in his sleep.

Tang He wanted to let him rest a little longer. He rolled down the window and lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly into the cool air outside.

Du Jianyou didn’t smoke. He always said cigarette smoke aged your skin and that he wouldn’t dig his own grave. He was very sensitive to the smell of smoke. So before Tang He could even take a few puffs, Du Jianyou stirred awake.

“We’re here?” Du Jianyou yawned and inadvertently inhaled a breath of mint-scented secondhand smoke. He frowned for a moment before realizing—so this is the faint minty scent that always lingers on Tang He. He sneakily took another breath, slightly addicted, then turned to look around. They seemed to be on a mountain.

“Yeah, we’re here. Wanna get out and walk around?” Tang He, knowing Du Jianyou disliked smoke, immediately stubbed out the cigarette when he noticed he was awake.

“Of course I want to get out! You drove all this way—how could I not?” Du Jianyou opened the door and stepped out. “Any later, and the sun’ll be down. But… where is this place? I don’t think this was on the list you gave me last time.”

The list Du Jianyou referred to was a selection of real estate locations provided by Guangsheng Group for their advertising shoot.

“This place isn’t on the list,” Tang He replied, leading him along the trail, “because it doesn’t need any advertising.”

“Why not?” Du Jianyou asked in confusion. He looked around and saw that the land was still covered in wild grass, showing no signs of development yet. There were mountains nearby, a small patch of forest, and beyond that, a small lake. The environment was serene and elegant—if marketed well, the property value would definitely skyrocket.

“Because this is my private property,” Tang He explained. “This land belongs to me.”

“Then why just leave it like this? You haven’t planned anything for it?” Du Jianyou asked curiously. After all, he remembered Tang He excitedly telling him how long it took to find this place, how beautiful it was, and how much effort he put into acquiring it. And yet now, it was just sitting here, untouched—such an unusual move for someone like Tang He.

“I’m going to take my time planning it out. This will be my future home—there’s a forest to walk through, and a lake to fish in,” Tang He said, his gaze drifting off into the distance.

“So this is your home, huh?” Du Jianyou replied, his voice slightly nasal.

“Hey, have you ever thought about what your future home would look like?” Du Jianyou asked, testing the waters.

“What else could it be?” Tang He shrugged. “My parents are abroad, so here it’ll just be me, your sister-in-law, and probably two or three kids. Maybe even a few dogs. I like a lively household.”

The sun had already set, and the two of them stood beneath a tall tree. Bathed in moonlight, Du Jianyou looked at Tang He as he gestured toward the undeveloped land, painting a vivid image of the future home: the warm glow spilling from its windows, the faint mist on the glass, children chasing puppies outside, and the man of the house hugging his wife inside.

What a beautiful scene, Du Jianyou thought bitterly, but it doesn’t include me.

“When the time comes, I’ll just stand here and sneak a peek at you guys,” he murmured, not realizing he had spoken aloud.

“What do you mean sneak a peek?” Tang He asked, puzzled. “Just ring the doorbell like a normal person. I’ll have your sister-in-law whip up a whole feast to fill you up.”

“Then I’ll make sure to come by every holiday and knock on your door,” Du Jianyou joked. “Don’t forget to prepare a big red envelope^[1] for me during New Year.”

“The house isn’t even built yet and you’re already planning to mooch a red envelope?” Tang He playfully knocked his head. They both burst out laughing.

It was getting late. Though April days were warm, the mountain temperature dropped rapidly at night. As the wind picked up, the thinly dressed Du Jianyou sneezed several times in a row.

“Damn, we left in such a rush this afternoon that I forgot to remind you to bring a jacket. Come on, let’s head down the mountain and get something warm to eat—otherwise you’ll catch a cold,” Tang He said, shielding him as they returned to the car.

But of course, Murphy’s Law^[2] kicked in—before they even reached the base of the mountain, Du Jianyou was already feeling chilled and lightheaded.

He gave a wry smile. Today’s just been too much. First, King Sleazeball Wang Guoqing pissed me off so bad my head spun, then that painfully domestic scene my “big bro” painted about his wife and kids ripped my heart to shreds. All that emotional whiplash—even if the wind wasn’t blowing, I’d still be down for the count.

Seeing him clearly unwell, Tang He decided to make a detour to the pharmacy before taking him home. Sure enough, when they took his temperature, he was already running a low-grade fever. Tang He quickly bought fever meds and rushed Du Jianyou back home.

Even in his groggy state, Du Jianyou didn’t forget to mumble, “I’m hungry.”

Forced to act fast, Tang He parked illegally and bought two bowls of century egg and pork congee from a nearby stall.

Following Du Jianyou’s slurred directions, Tang He parked in the building’s underground lot, then helped him into the elevator, heading straight for the 18th floor.

At the door, Tang He gently patted Du Jianyou. “Jianyou, we’re at your place. Do you have a key? Or is it a code?” He glanced at the digital lock next to the door. “What’s the password?”

“1-2-1-2,” Du Jianyou replied dully, desperate to get inside and collapse onto the couch. Seriously, it’s just a low-grade fever—why does it feel like my whole body’s been run over?

Sure enough, the moment the door opened, he flopped onto the sofa with zero regard for appearances, leaving Tang He—on his first visit here—scrambling like a host to prep dinner. Not that there was much to prepare: he just went to the kitchen, found two bowls, scooped the porridge into them, grabbed a couple of spoons, and brought everything to the coffee table.

He nudged Du Jianyou upright and shoved a spoon into his hand. “Eat. You need to eat before you can take your medicine.” Then he sat down beside him and began eating as well.

But after a few bites, Tang He noticed the person next to him hadn’t moved. Glancing up, he saw Du Jianyou staring blankly into space, still holding the spoon in a daze.

Tang He, who had never taken care of anyone before, suddenly panicked. “Bunny, what’s wrong? Aren’t you hungry? Come on, eat.”

Du Jianyou listlessly tossed the spoon aside and collapsed back onto the couch. “I lost my appetite. I just want to sleep.”

“No can do,” Tang He said, pulling him upright again. “At least eat a little porridge so you can take your medicine. Then you can go lie down in bed.”

Flustered and a bit awkward, Tang He tried to coax him into eating. He was genuinely worried about the medicine upsetting his stomach if taken on an empty one.

Du Jianyou, despite enjoying Tang He’s care and concern, was just too uncomfortable. His throat burned, making it painful to swallow. After managing only half a bowl, he refused to eat more. Tang He reluctantly let it go and handed him the medicine, then helped him to his room to rest.

But just when Tang He thought he could finally tuck him into bed, Du Jianyou stubbornly insisted—despite being sick—that he had to shower first. There was no convincing him otherwise. Tang He could only give in and leave him to it while he went to finish his own dinner and clean up.

As he washed the dishes, Tang He found himself wondering: If Jianyou’s fever doesn’t go down soon, should I stay the night to look after him? But this is only my first visit to his place… would it be inappropriate to stay over? Still lost in thought, he finished tidying up and looked around.

The apartment was neat, clean, and tastefully decorated—very much Du Jianyou’s style.

When he checked the time, he figured Jianyou was probably done showering. He poured a glass of warm water, knocked on the bedroom door, and entered. Sure enough, Du Jianyou was sitting on the bed in clean cotton pajamas, still dazed, a towel draped over his head.

“What are you doing just sitting there like that? Why haven’t you dried your hair? You’re already running a fever, and now you’re making it worse. Do you want to feel even more miserable?” Tang He scolded him with concern as he handed over the water, then grabbed the blow dryer from the vanity and started drying his hair.

As Du Jianyou sat there being clumsily cared for by the person he admired most, his chest tightened. Tang He was someone who never needed to tend to others—he was always the one being served. And yet here he was: preparing dinner, offering medicine, drying hair.

Du Jianyou’s eyes grew hot.

Tang He’s pale, slender fingers ran through his hair, gently brushing over his scalp. Du Jianyou closed his eyes, feeling every tingling sensation ripple down from his scalp. The scent of mint and tobacco that always lingered on Tang He now surrounded him completely. He could feel himself losing control and bit down on his lower lip, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he’d ruin the fragile warmth between them with the wrong words.

This affection—this intimacy—was stolen. Something he wasn’t supposed to ask for.

It had all started as emotional vulnerability turning into physical illness. And now that same physical weakness blurred the lines in his heart. Under Tang He’s gentle care, he finally lost his grip.

Half-asleep, unable to suppress the words any longer, he whispered:

“Ge, you’re so good to me. I really like you.”

While drying his hair, Tang He chuckled softly. “Aiya, I know, I know. You’ve said it more than eight hundred times already.”

Du Jianyou placed the cup of water down on the nightstand and, after a moment of hesitation, couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Strictly speaking, that was the seventy-sixth time I’ve said ‘I like you.’”

He spoke quietly, unsure whether Tang He had heard him clearly.

Yet even over the roar of the hairdryer, that faint “seventy-sixth time” still made it into Tang He’s ears. He heard every word clearly—but couldn’t grasp the true weight of the feelings behind them.

An alarm blared in Tang He’s mind. His instincts screamed: Don’t ask. The truth is terrifying. It’s not something you’re ready to face.

“Ahem. You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you since I walked in—your door code is way too simple! What kind of person sets it to something like 1-2-3-4? If a thief came by, they’d crack it in a second. Don’t be so lazy—change it to something proper.” He changed the topic swiftly, pretending not to have heard Jianyou’s confession.

“It’s 1-2-1-2, not 1-2-3-4. It’s not random,” Du Jianyou replied calmly, but with rare seriousness.

“Not random? That’s worse than 1-2-3-4! I’m telling you, you should—” Tang He stopped mid-sentence when Du Jianyou suddenly turned to him, meeting his eyes.

“It’s your birthday.”

Tang He stared at him, confused. “Huh?”

Du Jianyou took the hairdryer from Tang He’s hand and shut off the whirring noise. The room fell instantly quiet.

“1-2-1-2. December 12th. It’s your birthday.” Du Jianyou looked deep into Tang He’s eyes. His voice was raspy but crystal clear in the sudden stillness of the room. Tang He stared back at him in shock—and yet, somewhere deep inside, it didn’t surprise him. Of course it was something Du Jianyou would do.

As Tang He stood silent, his expression flickering with unreadable emotion, Du Jianyou made up his mind. No more half-measures. I’m saying it all tonight.

He grabbed Tang He by the front of his shirt and struggled to sit up from the bed. Tang He was startled by the sudden movement and instinctively reached out to steady him, worried that his fevered body might not hold up.

In that instant of closeness, Du Jianyou yanked him down and kissed him.

He sucked and bit at his lips with urgency. Just as Tang He, startled, opened his mouth to stop him, Du Jianyou’s tongue slipped inside—twining with his, licking, exploring. Their breaths grew heavier and faster. It was only then that Tang He realized just how much he had missed that kiss Du Jianyou gave him once before.

But this kiss—this one was even better than he remembered.

From passive recipient, Tang He suddenly turned aggressor. One hand cradled the back of Jianyou’s head, the other gripped his waist tightly, pulling him closer—closer still. All reason melted away. He forgot resistance, forgot propriety, forgot what was “appropriate.” Only instinct remained, screaming: More. Deeper. Again.

Then, Du Jianyou pulled back.

Bracing himself against Tang He’s chest, both of them were still breathless, dazed from the surge of desire. Tang He looked at him, confused, heart pounding.

Du Jianyou, his breathing still ragged, softly said:

“Every time I’ve liked someone… it’s always been this kind of like. Tang He, do you understand?”

The words crashed into Tang He like thunder, dragging him from that intoxicating heat back to reality. He inhaled sharply, as if the truth—whether it was the kiss, or the confession—was too much to comprehend.

Du Jianyou’s hand suddenly moved lower. “Ge… you’re aroused.”

For the past half year, Tang He hadn’t been intimate with anyone. He chalked it up to being too busy with work, uninterested in women. Whenever he felt the need, he handled it himself, quickly and without thought. Now, during that wild kiss, he felt something stir—and it wasn’t entirely unexplainable. After all, he’d been half-celibate for so long. It made sense that the slightest spark could ignite a fire.

“That’s just a perfectly normal physiological reaction for a man. It doesn’t mean anything,” Tang He said stiffly, refusing to acknowledge anything more.

“So you’re saying that if any man kissed and touched you like that, you’d get a reaction?” Du Jianyou asked maliciously, increasing the pressure of his hand. Tang He nearly cried out and quickly grabbed Jianyou’s misbehaving hand.

“Who would dare? If any man tried that, I’d break his hand on the spot,” Tang He growled, flustered by Jianyou’s touch, his reason slipping fast.

Du Jianyou laughed lightly. “What about me then? Will you break my hand too, ge?” Though Tang He held his hand down, his slender fingers still moved deftly, teasingly, across Tang He’s body.

Tang He stared down at those pale, elegant fingers still lingering on his skin. So beautiful. So hard to resist. What would it feel like if he wrapped that hand around me—? Tang He suddenly swallowed hard, throat bobbing with tension. He was caught in the moment. His desire was unrestrained.

Then the realization hit him like a cold wave.

He broke out in a sweat, horrified by how far his thoughts had gone. Shaking himself out of it, he slapped Du Jianyou’s hand away. His face darkened, his tone went cold. “You’re delirious from the fever. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not delirious. I know exactly what I’m doing.” Du Jianyou looked straight at him, his voice faint but resolute. “I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t want to disguise my feelings for you behind friendship. I like you. If you feel the same, then let’s walk this road together. If not, I just want you to know—clearly. That’s all.”

He gave a weak smile, but his gaze was firm.

This wasn’t a plea. It was a declaration.

Tang He was speechless. The feverish little white bunny standing before him had just boldly launched a war. And he—Tang He, the undefeated general of every battlefield—was retreating before the first blow, desperate to escape.

He stumbled back a step, opened his mouth, but couldn’t find the words. So, in a flurry of confusion and panic, he turned and walked out.

Behind him, Du Jianyou’s hesitant voice called out, “Ge, are you leaving? Then… goodbye.”

Tang He closed his eyes in frustration.

A memory flashed in his mind: once, after a night out drinking, Du Jianyou had gotten tipsy and cheerful. Right before heading into his building, he’d suddenly run back to the car, poked half his body through the window, and slurred, “Ge, I forgot to say goodbye! You have to say goodbye—because only if you say goodbye… will you meet again.”

That night, the two had gone back and forth—“goodbye,” “goodbye,” over and over, laughing endlessly—before Jianyou finally went upstairs.

Now, Tang He stood frozen.

No words came out of his throat—not a goodbye, not anything. He didn’t even know if he should speak.

And so, he fled. Fled from Du Jianyou’s home in a complete panic.

Once outside, he glared at the keypad lock by the door.

Damn it. My birthday? That stupid code’s gonna get TuTu^[3]’s house robbed one day.

(To be continued…)