WIL CH 19

Chapter 19: Ways to Lull Someone to Sleep (Part 2)

The sound of their breaths intertwined in the dark. Wen Feng’s movements grew more and more intense; the friction between Lin Xi’s pale thighs left a faint flush behind. What little warmth had spilled from before now served as a thin layer of slickness between them.

The heat grew unbearable. Lin Xi’s lashes trembled, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes until they slipped down into his hair. He gasped between broken words, “I… I can’t anymore… it hurts…”

Wen Feng, breathing heavily, pulled him up and pressed Lin Xi’s legs to either side of his waist. The sudden closeness made Lin Xi panic—he tried to retreat, but Wen Feng held him firmly in place. Their bodies pressed together, their breaths mingling; Wen Feng’s voice was low and slightly hoarse.

“Xi Xi… if you keep hiding like that, how am I supposed to do anything? You’re the only one feeling good—what about me?”

Lin Xi looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. “Then… what should I do?”

Wen Feng caught his hand, entwined their fingers, and guided them downward. The heat between them pulsed as their hands moved together, Lin Xi’s smaller palm enveloped by Wen Feng’s larger one. The rhythm built slowly—two heartbeats, two breaths, two bodies entangled in one motion.

A faint light flickered across the silver rings on their fingers, glinting with every movement until it was lost beneath a haze of warmth.

By the time it was over, both were breathless. Lin Xi’s face was flushed from ear to neck, his whole body drained of strength, soft and pliant in Wen Feng’s arms. Drowsiness soon overtook him; his eyelids fluttered as he leaned against Wen Feng’s shoulder, murmuring faintly in reply to the man’s voice beside his ear.

“Sleepy?” Wen Feng asked quietly.

“Mhm…” Lin Xi murmured before drifting off completely.

Wen Feng reached into the bedside drawer for a pack of wet wipes and gently cleaned them both. The cool touch made Lin Xi shiver in his sleep, so Wen Feng switched to dry tissues, moving with patient care.

The next morning, Lin Xi woke to a calm, watchful gaze. Wen Feng was propped on one arm, looking at him quietly. His expression was far softer than the days before.

“Time to get up,” he said.

As Lin Xi blinked at him, fragments of last night flashed in his mind. His face instantly flushed red. He burrowed under the blanket, hiding his burning cheeks. How had things turned out like that? Was it really just because he’d called Wen Feng’s name?

Regret and confusion tangled together beneath the covers.

From outside the blanket, Wen Feng’s voice came, low and even: “I’ll make breakfast. Get ready soon.”

Only then did Lin Xi jolt upright, suddenly remembering the day’s big event. He scrambled out of bed and hurried into the bathroom to wash up.

After washing up, Lin Xi stood in front of his wardrobe, staring blankly. He didn’t know what to wear. Most of his clothes were casual—comfortable for everyday life, but not suitable for a formal event.

There was only one suit—the one he’d worn to Jiang Boqing’s engagement banquet—but he didn’t want to put it on again. The more he looked at it, the more uncomfortable he felt, so he pushed it into the far corner of the wardrobe.

Just as he was struggling to decide, Wen Feng walked in, carrying a black shopping bag printed with letters Lin Xi couldn’t understand—something that looked like Spanish.

He handed the bag to Lin Xi and said simply, “Put this on. Come out for breakfast when you’re done.”

Then he turned and left.

Lin Xi looked down at the bag in his hands, dazed for a moment before opening it. Inside was a set of light-blue formalwear—not too stiff or business-like, but stylish and elegant. The blazer had white embroidered patterns with faint silver threads woven through, and the shirt underneath had a soft, wave-like collar.

When he put it on, the fit was perfect. Lin Xi sighed. He had no idea how much this outfit cost, but every time he thought of repaying Wen Feng, he only seemed to owe more instead.

After breakfast, when they were about to leave, Lin Xi made sure not to forget his shoes this time. He took out a pair of white, British-style leather shoes with intricate patterns carved into them—shoes that matched perfectly with his outfit. It was the same pair he had worn during their wedding abroad. This was only the second time he had ever worn them.

Once he was in the car, his nerves began to creep in again.

Since childhood, Lin Xi had always been the kind of child who blended into the background—quiet, withdrawn, hardly ever taking the initiative to speak or be noticed. He didn’t have many friends. Most people remembered him only because of his grades or his looks.

In school, he wasn’t the type others would easily befriend, so when Jiang Boqing had taken the first step toward him back then, he’d been completely surprised. He could hardly believe someone would genuinely like him.

Now, that same nervousness—the kind rooted in social anxiety—was returning. Sitting in the passenger seat, Lin Xi’s hands trembled slightly. He placed the script on his lap and began practicing his lines again.

He had designed most of the characters himself—he knew every detail, every skill, every backstory by heart—yet he still couldn’t calm down.

Wen Feng drove straight into the underground parking of the building where the press conference was being held.

Lin Xi was still absorbed in his notes, so focused that he didn’t even notice when the car came to a stop.

Then, the papers in his hands were gently taken away. Lin Xi’s eyes flickered, finally refocusing on Wen Feng. He didn’t speak.

Wen Feng gazed at him quietly. His eyes darkened slightly, as though suppressing the urge to pull Lin Xi into his arms and take him home.

He said in a low, steady voice, “Xi Xi, if you get nervous and forget your lines, pause for three seconds. Take a breath. Then continue. Don’t be afraid.”

Lin Xi blinked, confused. He hadn’t even told Wen Feng about his speech today. How did Wen Feng know where he was going?

“You… how did you know I’d be here today?”

Wen Feng unfastened his seatbelt, leaned over the center console, and brushed his hand along Lin Xi’s cheek. Then, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, he said, “You wrote it in your schedule.”

Lin Xi had a habit of using a physical calendar. He would jot down all the important dates and reminders, reviewing them every night before bed. The calendar sat right on their nightstand in the bedroom.

“Oh,” Lin Xi murmured, lowering his gaze.

He opened the door, took his small bag, and got out of the car. Wen Feng followed.

From the moment Lin Xi had woken up, he hadn’t relaxed once. His expression remained tense, his shoulders stiff. Wen Feng reached out, pulling him into his arms and pressing Lin Xi’s head against his chest.

“Assistant Liang will be there with you later,” he said softly. “Don’t be nervous.”

At that moment, Lin Xi’s eyes stung. He couldn’t bring himself to push Wen Feng away. He found himself yearning for the warmth of the man’s embrace, for the comfort of his quiet voice.

Once again, Lin Xi allowed himself to lean against him—if only because he no longer had the strength to resist.

After a few minutes, he straightened up and whispered, “I’m ready.”

The words came out thoughtlessly, simple and sincere.

Wen Feng reached into Lin Xi’s bag and took out a white face mask. He unwrapped it and carefully helped him put it on. Half of Lin Xi’s delicate face was hidden now, making his expressive eyes stand out even more.

Lin Xi looked at Wen Feng, puzzled.

Wen Feng said, “Keep it on. Don’t take it off.”

Lin Xi nodded. He didn’t really understand why, but somehow, wearing the mask made him feel safer.

He took his small bag and walked toward the elevator. Wen Feng stood behind, watching his back disappear into the distance. His gaze was heavy and unreadable.

The press conference hall was bustling with people—media personnel carrying cameras, and even some players who had already begun cosplaying as characters from the game, even though it hadn’t officially launched yet.

Lin Xi stared in astonishment as the characters he had once drawn with his own hands were vividly brought to life in the real world. The costumes, the makeup, the movements—everything was remarkably accurate. Some of them even struck the characters’ signature poses while taking photos with others.

Lu Mingyu had arrived early and was standing beside Kong Zhao. Lu Mingyu, as always, wore his standard business suit, while Kong Zhao’s appearance had completely changed—he was dressed in a flamboyant pink floral suit that made him look even more striking. Lin Xi was dumbfounded.

When Kong Zhao saw him, he waved enthusiastically.

“Xi Xi! Over here!”

Lin Xi quickened his pace to join them.

At the same time, Kong Zhao’s eyes widened as he took in Lin Xi’s appearance.

“Lin Xi, you look way too good—like a real-life little prince!”

Lin Xi’s lips curved into a shy smile.

“You look great too, Kong Zhao.”

Kong Zhao proudly patted his own suit, grinning.

“Of course! I spent ages picking this outfit just for today. I’ve got to let this face of mine charm the entire internet!”

Lu Mingyu, standing beside them, gave him a side glance and said flatly, “Enough talking. Let’s head backstage and get ready.”

Kong Zhao immediately nodded with a cheerful laugh.

“Sure thing! Where’s the backstage again, boss? Lead the way!”

Lin Xi hugged his small bag close and followed the two of them. Behind the stage was a rest area, and Lu Mingyu told them to wait there until their turn came. Someone would come to call them when it was time.

Inside the lounge, Lin Xi was still flipping through his script, hoping to make the most of his remaining time to review it again.

Seeing Lin Xi’s tense posture, Kong Zhao tried to lighten the mood.

“Xi Xi, relax! There’s going to be a teleprompter, remember? You’ve already memorized everything perfectly—what’s there to worry about?”

Lin Xi, still wearing his mask, only revealed his eyes and furrowed brows. “I just want to review a bit more.”

Kong Zhao, lounging on the sofa, tilted his head.

“By the way, why are you still wearing that mask indoors? Isn’t it stuffy?”

“It’s breathable. Not uncomfortable,” Lin Xi replied softly.

Kong Zhao laughed. “You want me to wear one too? I’ve got no plans to hide this beautiful face from the camera. My grandparents, parents, and every single relative are waiting to see me shine on the livestream!”

His tone was light and humorous, his personality bright as ever—born from growing up in a warm and cheerful family. Beside him, Lin Xi’s quiet and solitary demeanor seemed even more apparent.

A moment later, Assistant Liang called Lin Xi to ask where he was. Lin Xi told him he was in the lounge.

Soon, the assistant appeared carrying two bags. Lin Xi recognized the logos immediately—one from the milk tea shop he used to work at, and another from a dessert store he’d once done part-time shifts in.

Assistant Liang smiled brightly. “Mr. Lin, President Wen couldn’t make it today—he’s tied up with work. But he specifically asked me to come cheer you on.”

“These are from him as well. He said you have to eat and drink something before going on stage.”

“I can’t… I’m too nervous to eat,” Lin Xi admitted honestly. His stomach was tight with anxiety.

“That won’t do,” the assistant said good-naturedly. “President Wen gave me strict orders.”

He took a cup of milk tea from the bag, inserted a straw, and placed it in Lin Xi’s hands. It was warm—comfortingly so. The heat spread through Lin Xi’s palms and calmed him a little.

Then the assistant pulled out another cup and handed it to Kong Zhao. “You must be Mr. Lin’s colleague. This one’s for you.”

Kong Zhao blinked in surprise, accepting it with a polite “Thank you.” He couldn’t help but notice that the man spoke to Lin Xi with a formal tone of respect, even though he was clearly much older than him.

Finally, the assistant took out two small dessert boxes and handed them to both of them.

(To be continued…)