WIL CH 21

Chapter 21: Treat Him to a Late-Night Snack

There were still others in the car—Assistant Liang was up front, driving. Other than the soft hum of the engine and their quiet breaths, there was no other sound. Lin Xi felt uneasy. He wanted to get off Wen Feng’s lap and sit properly in his own seat.

But as he moved too hastily, his head hit the car roof with a dull thud. The pain made his eyes sting with tears.

Wen Feng held him still, pressing him back onto his lap, and reached up to rub his head. “Will you behave now?”

Lin Xi’s eyes grew wet. He didn’t say anything, just looked up at Wen Feng with those round, rabbit-like eyes glimmering like dew-soaked pearls. He sat stiffly on Wen Feng’s lap, clutching the sleeve of his coat with both hands.

Then, with a soft click, the partition window between the driver and the back seat slowly rose, sealing them off from the front. The space behind the divider felt suddenly smaller—quiet, and intimate. Wen Feng’s hands rested firmly on Lin Xi’s waist, and Lin Xi, not knowing where the control button was, realized only one person could’ve raised it: Assistant Liang.

Now, his face turned red to match his already flushed lips.

Wen Feng brushed a hand across his back and said in a low, lazy voice, “So, have you decided how to make it up to me?”

Lin Xi thought for a moment. Wen Feng had waited for him for so long—he probably hadn’t even eaten yet. Biting his lip, he murmured, “I’ll treat you to a late-night snack.”

“You just finished dinner. Can your stomach even handle that?”

Lin Xi replied softly, “I can just watch you eat.”

Wen Feng tilted his head slightly, his fingers catching Lin Xi’s chin. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, and his gaze turned deep and heavy. “What’s the fun in you watching me eat? You should join me.”

Before Lin Xi could react, warm lips pressed against his. Wen Feng’s kiss was fierce, swallowing the rest of his words. The heat that hadn’t faded from Lin Xi’s mouth only deepened under that touch.

Lin Xi sat atop his lap, his head gently guided downward to meet the rhythm of Wen Feng’s lips. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming—until both forgot where they were, unaware that the car had already pulled up to their apartment.

Assistant Liang had long since left quietly without saying a word.

The space in the backseat was spacious. Wen Feng laid Lin Xi gently across the seat, hovering above him, the kiss continuing until Lin Xi felt lightheaded from lack of air.

When Lin Xi finally pushed weakly at his chest, Wen Feng reluctantly pulled back a little, his voice rough and low. “What’s wrong?”

Breathing unevenly, Lin Xi said, “We’re home.”

His lips were swollen and red, almost shimmering under the dim light. Wen Feng’s gaze lingered there, and his voice deepened even more. “We haven’t finished our late-night snack yet.”

He leaned down again, capturing Lin Xi’s lips once more—this time slower, more deliberate, as if savoring the sweetness left between them. Lin Xi trembled, coughing softly as tears welled in his eyes. One slid down the corner of his cheek, and Wen Feng, breath still unsteady, brushed it away gently.

“Still not learning, huh?” he murmured.

Lin Xi coughed for a long while before catching his breath. He wasn’t like Wen Feng—naturally skilled and effortlessly confident. Maybe Wen Feng was just… experienced. That would explain why he was so practiced at everything.

Pushing against Wen Feng’s chest, still pinned beneath him, Lin Xi said softly, “You kissed me for too long.”

Wen Feng straightened up, wiping the corner of his lips as he smiled. “Didn’t you say you were treating me to a late-night snack?”

Lin Xi sat up as well. “That’s not the kind of snack I meant.”

His eyes lowered; his clothes were a mess. The crisp white shirt that had been neatly tucked into his trousers was now pulled loose and wrinkled.

The car door opened, and Wen Feng stepped out gracefully, one long leg first. Leaning against the doorframe, he looked down at Lin Xi with a smirk. “I’ve only eaten half. You still owe me the other half.”

Lin Xi’s brows furrowed. He regretted saying anything about that snack at all. He had clearly meant food, yet Wen Feng had twisted the meaning entirely. “You’re being unreasonable.”

Wen Feng laughed quietly. “I don’t plan to be reasonable.”

His confident tone left Lin Xi speechless. Frustrated, he got out of the car. The air outside was much colder than inside. Because he had dressed lightly for the press event, the chill made him shiver. He hurried toward the house.

The smell of spicy hot pot still clung to him, so the moment he entered, he went straight to the bathroom to shower. Halfway through, a dull ache began to build in his stomach. He’d had similar pains before—sometimes when Assistant Liang didn’t bring him food on busy days, he’d forget to eat. Tonight, it must’ve been the spicy hot pot that upset his stomach.

After washing up, he crawled into bed, wrapping himself tightly in the blanket. Wen Feng entered the bathroom right after him.

But the pain grew worse. Lin Xi curled up under the covers, pressing a hand against his abdomen, trying to ease the discomfort with warmth and pressure.

When Wen Feng came out, he saw a lump under the blanket. Climbing onto the bed, he gently lifted the quilt and pulled Lin Xi out a little. His fair face was pale, brows tightly furrowed in pain.

Wen Feng’s gaze darkened instantly. “What’s wrong?”

A thin layer of sweat formed on Lin Xi’s forehead. He kept his eyes shut and whispered, “It hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?”

Wen Feng sat him up slightly, and Lin Xi clutched his stomach.

“Your stomach?”

Lin Xi nodded weakly.

Wen Feng tucked him back under the blanket and left the room.

Barely two minutes later, he returned. Supporting Lin Xi against his shoulder, he placed a white pill to his lips, then brought over a cup of warm water. After Lin Xi swallowed the medicine, Wen Feng made sure he drank the entire cup.

When they lay down again, Wen Feng pulled Lin Xi into his arms, one large hand resting over his stomach, rubbing gently in slow circles. “That’s what happens when you insist on eating hot pot. Maybe next time you’ll listen.”

Lin Xi felt a little wronged. Being scolded while in pain only made him feel worse. Sniffling, he muttered, “But I wanted to celebrate with Kong Zhao.”

“No more eating random, unhealthy things,” Wen Feng said firmly.

Lin Xi couldn’t argue. He could only blame his fragile body. “Alright.”

Wen Feng’s hands were large and warm, easily covering his flat abdomen. His gentle rubbing slowly eased the pain. Lin Xi opened his eyes to quietly study the man in front of him.

Wen Feng must have sensed his gaze, because his dark brown eyes slowly opened.

Lin Xi asked, “Did Assistant Liang send you my photos? He kept secretly taking pictures of me today.”

“What do you mean secretly? That’s his job—I told him to.”

Lin Xi froze. “Why would you ask him to take photos of me?”

Wen Feng’s hand paused on his stomach. “So it doesn’t hurt anymore?”

Lin Xi’s stomach still ached a little. The hand on his abdomen continued to move in gentle circles.

“Close your eyes and sleep,” Wen Feng said.

Lin Xi didn’t hear the answer he wanted, and he wasn’t sleepy yet. “But I’m not tired.”

Wen Feng rubbed his still swollen lips with his finger; the silver ring on his index finger caught a faint glint in the dim light. He said softly, “Then do you want to finish the other half of the midnight snack?”

Lin Xi immediately pulled the blanket up, pretending to yawn. “Actually, I think I might be a little sleepy after all.” Then he obediently closed his eyes.

Wen Feng’s hand stayed on his stomach, warm and steady. The comfort gradually eased the pain, and Lin Xi slowly drifted off to sleep.

Ever since Wen Feng started staying over, Lin Xi’s sleep had improved remarkably. Before, he would often stay up late working or overthinking, but Wen Feng’s presence seemed to have a calming effect—like a lullaby that came with warmth and steady breathing. As long as Wen Feng was beside him, he could fall asleep easily.

The next morning, as soon as Lin Xi entered the office, his coworkers surrounded him. Many came to thank him—during yesterday’s launch event, he had personally mentioned their names, giving credit to the behind-the-scenes team. Being suddenly surrounded by gratitude made Lin Xi a little flustered. He didn’t think he’d done anything special; he had only spoken a few words. It was everyone’s own hard work and talent that earned them recognition.

After some effort, he finally escaped the crowd. Lin Xi still preferred staying low-profile—quietly doing his own work made him feel more at ease.

Kong Zhao arrived with Lu Mingyu, holding his phone excitedly as he ran up to Lin Xi’s desk.

“Xi Xi, look! We’re trending on social media!”

Lin Xi hadn’t been online in the past two days and looked puzzled. “Huh? Trending for what?”

Kong Zhao showed him his phone. One of the trending topics read:

‘Top-tier game company artist—Is he gay?’

The words made Lin Xi freeze. Those harsh voices from his school days echoed in his ears again. His hand trembled, unable to move. He didn’t dare tap into the post—he was afraid to see the attacks and judgment, afraid of once again being condemned for who he was.

His gaze went blank, thoughts spinning uncontrollably.

Seeing his reaction, Kong Zhao quickly opened the thread for him.

“Wow, that guy in the pink suit and the one in the blue suit—are they a couple? They look so good together! One’s shy and quiet, the other’s sunny and bright—total opposites that just fit perfectly! And they even work at the same company. How can we not ship them?”

“The guy in blue has such pretty eyes! Even with a mask on, you can tell he’s handsome. Great body too—he’d make a perfect cosplayer!”

“I wonder which one’s the top and which one’s the bottom?”

“I’m betting on the one in pink!”

“…”

Someone had even edited a short video of them together, adding romantic captions that made it look like a love story.

The whole thing was far beyond what Lin Xi could have imagined. He couldn’t believe so many people were convinced that he and Kong Zhao were a couple.

Kong Zhao put his phone away, saying casually, “The internet’s shipping us as a CP now.”

Lin Xi, who rarely paid attention to online trends, was confused. “What does shipping a CP mean?”

“It means they like to imagine us dating,” Kong Zhao explained.

“Ah!” Lin Xi blurted out in shock. “But we’re not!”

Kong Zhao shrugged, clearly used to it. “That’s the internet for you. People love to make up stories out of thin air—they believe whatever they want to believe.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kong Zhao said calmly. “Give it some time — people will lose interest soon enough. The internet moves fast. Every day, there’s something new to talk about. Today it’s us; tomorrow it’ll be someone else. There’s no need to take it too seriously.”

Lin Xi still looked uneasy. “Really? We don’t need to do anything about it?”

“I don’t care,” Kong Zhao said, tone relaxed. “I’m gay anyway. Let them say whatever they want.”

Lin Xi’s eyes widened in surprise — Kong Zhao had said it so casually, as if it were nothing.

Seeing his shocked expression, Kong Zhao raised an eyebrow. “What? Don’t tell me you look down on gay people.”

Lin Xi immediately shook his head. Of course not. How could he? He was one himself. More than anyone, he understood the obstacles that came with it — from family, from society, from the world at large.

“Of course not. I’d never look down on that,” Lin Xi said earnestly. “I’m just surprised… that you said it out loud so openly.”

“What’s there to hide?” Kong Zhao replied with a faint smile. “If you live your life worrying too much about what others think, you’ll only make yourself miserable. I can’t please everyone, and I don’t have to. I’m not perfect, but I’m not broken either. Being gay isn’t wrong.”

He paused, his expression calm yet firm. “Every flower is still a flower — lilies are flowers, and so are roses. You can’t expect a rose to grow like a lily. Its thorns aren’t meant to hurt; they’re part of what makes it whole. Just like love — love isn’t a sin.”

Kong Zhao’s courage and ease made Lin Xi deeply envious. He could never be that open. Once hurt, he had chosen to bury himself deep within — where no one could reach him again.

(To be continued…)