YMW CH 58

Don’t touch me.

Cen Wu’s cheeks burned as he shoved Xie Guilan away roughly. Eat shit. Try kissing me again and I’ll bite your tongue off.

Xie Guilan, of course, wasn’t afraid of dying. His dark, brooding eyes lowered as he braced a knee against the floor, leaning in to cup Cen Wu’s face again. He sucked lightly on his lips, already swollen and flushed from their earlier kisses.

This time, Cen Wu frowned, his expression cooling—but Xie Guilan reeled in all his usual aggression, pressing their noses together instead. His voice was rough, whispering lowly, “Brother.”

Logically, there was nothing wrong with it—Xie Guilan was younger, after all. But for some reason, hearing that word made Cen Wu’s skin crawl with embarrassment, his fingers itching to punch him.

Meeting his gaze, Cen Wu muttered awkwardly, “I must’ve owed you in a past life.”

Xie Guilan knew when to quit. He didn’t kiss him again—he always skirted right along Cen Wu’s limits, leaving him frustrated, torn between anger and reluctant tolerance.

Still kneeling, Xie Guilan’s black dress pants strained slightly, doing nothing to hide his obvious state.

Cen Wu’s eyes flickered down, then immediately regretted it. How the hell did Xie Guilan grow up like this, surviving on scraps in the Xie household? Do all high schoolers develop like this now?

Biting his lip, his porcelain skin flushing pink, Cen Wu leaned down and buttoned Xie Guilan’s shirt back up one by one, scolding him, “You… you can’t act like this. You have to respect yourself.”

Who just kneels like that? They weren’t even boyfriends, yet Xie Guilan let him touch so freely.

Xie Guilan had endured too much humiliation in the Xie family. His pride was fierce, yet he discarded his own dignity without hesitation—because nothing mattered more than what he wanted.

“I won’t… won’t take advantage of you,” Cen Wu fretted over this rebellious brat. “What if someday you meet someone you like, and they hurt you? Will you just let them touch you like this too?”

He wanted Xie Guilan to find someone who truly cherished him, someone who wouldn’t trample over his heart or body. If he were crueler—if he slept with Xie Guilan and then walked away—the thought alone made him ache.

Reaching out, he ruffled Xie Guilan’s hair.

Xie Guilan’s Adam’s apple bobbed. No one had ever said these things to him before. He pulled Cen Wu into another embrace.

He still believed Cen Wu loved him. Because every time they held each other, the hollow in his chest filled, the fractures sealing—like a missing rib slotting back into place. He couldn’t bear to imagine Cen Wu leaving.

After a moment, Cen Wu glanced down and realized Xie Guilan was still in the same state. Flustered, he yanked his own jacket off and threw it over Xie Guilan’s head, his face burning. “Stay here for a while before coming out.”

Disgraceful. How has Blue Night not been raided yet? Xie Guilan would be the first one arrested.

Xie Guilan gripped the jacket, tugging it down just enough to reveal his sharp nose and those dark eyes. He inhaled deeply, breathing in Cen Wu’s scent.

Cen Wu’s entire body felt like it was on fire. He couldn’t look at him for another second, fleeing the scene—only to run straight into Ji Changyu loitering outside, lazily smoking.

Too embarrassed to meet his eyes, Cen Wu bolted.

Xie Guilan emerged a few minutes later, his coldly handsome face unreadable, his clothes perfectly straightened—save for the faint, stubborn creases along his thighs.

Ji Changyu: “…”

It was surreal seeing this bastard switch back to his usual aloof act. Who would believe that minutes ago, he’d been on his knees, shamelessly calling someone brother while forcing his tongue down their throat?

Xie Guilan’s lips were still faintly red and damp, his expression restless and unsatisfied—like a man starved. He didn’t even bother hiding it, lighting a cigarette before striding out.

Blue Night was packed, the dance floor a chaotic sea of bodies, neon lights painting everything in garish hues. The air was thick with heat and reckless energy.

He still wore his black leather gloves, his throat flushed where he’d dragged his own fingers across it earlier. His collar hung slightly open, radiating barely restrained frustration.

Anyone with half a brain could tell what was up.

Especially since Cen Wu’s jacket still draped over his arm, strategically placed to almost conceal what shouldn’t be seen.

“I’m never giving you advice again,” Ji Changyu slung an arm around his shoulders, shaking his head in awe. “Just keep doing… whatever this is. You could seduce anyone.”

Few could resist this kind of temptation—especially with Xie Guilan’s looks amplifying it tenfold.

Ji Changyu was pretty sure he was the only one immune. If this bastard ever called him brother, he’d vomit on the spot.

Honestly, he already felt nauseous. Xie Guilan owed him emotional damages.

“Don’t touch me,” Xie Guilan shoved him off coldly. “You’re the type who doesn’t respect yourself.”

Unlike Ji Changyu, he only let Cen Wu touch him.

Ji Changyu: ?

Oh, fantastic. He hadn’t even complained about Xie Guilan’s shamelessness, and now this bastard had the audacity to call him dirty? What kind of bros were they? Might as well cut ties.

Cen Wu didn’t stop running until he was outside Blue Night. The night wind whipped against his face, cooling his heated cheeks slightly, though they still burned.

His driver had already arrived. After sending Xie Guilan a quick message, he got in the car and headed home.

To his surprise, Guan Xingxue and the others were still awake when he returned. The original host would usually party at Blue Night until dawn on his birthdays, and even though they knew no one would dare lay a finger on him, his family couldn’t help but worry.

In the past, the original host would stumble home drunk after a wild night and pass out immediately, completely unaware that his parents and brother waited up for him late into the night. Being loved so unconditionally made him take it all for granted.

During the car ride, Cen Wu checked himself in the rearview mirror repeatedly. They hadn’t kissed for long this time, so his lips weren’t swollen—just his face flushed red.

He thought he’d gotten away with it.

Then Cen Xiao yanked his collar and hissed, “Where’s your jacket?”

Including the round-trip drive, Cen Wu had only been gone for a little over an hour. Cen Xiao didn’t think they could’ve done that much—though he disliked Xie Guilan, the guy didn’t seem like the type to finish that fast.

But if they hadn’t done anything, why was his jacket missing?

Pathetic. Can’t even play with men properly.

Cen Wu: !!!

He’d completely forgotten about his jacket. Damn it. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree—the original novel mentioned that Cen Junshan and Guan Xingxue had a rock-solid marriage. Back when Guan Xingxue was a rising star with countless suitors, Cen Junshan would personally drive to pick her up every night during her shoots in Huaijing.

Extreme vigilance ran in the family.

Cen Wu covered his face with his hands, peeking through his fingers with wide, trembling eyes, trying to look pitiful enough to escape punishment.

Guan Xingxue called out to them, telling them to go to bed early. Cen Xiao jabbed a finger at Cen Wu in frustration before finally letting him go.

Cen Wu hurried off to sleep, brushing his teeth thoroughly beforehand. But no matter how much he scrubbed, a faint sweetness lingered in his mouth—like cream. His tongue still felt strange, as if it didn’t belong to him after being sucked on so much.

Damn Xie Guilan and his stupid mouth.

---

Xie Guilan finished his shift at Blue Night at midnight. After changing, he headed back to the Xie residence.

Xie Mingcheng had just returned from Cen Wu’s birthday banquet, accompanied by Zhou Li. She wore a simple black mermaid dress, light makeup, and minimal jewelry. With her high cheekbones and pale complexion, she carried an air of aloofness that set her apart from Huaijing’s elite.

The night breeze tousled her curled hair as she tightened her trench coat. When her gaze met Xie Guilan’s, her expression remained indifferent. She merely gestured to her secretary. “Come with me.”

Her secretary—a man in his thirties with a refined appearance—followed her without a word.

She ignored Xie Mingcheng completely, not even acknowledging Xie Shangjing, and headed straight for the small building in the backyard.

Zhou Li was the only daughter of the Zhou family but had never gone into business. She studied medicine under her grandfather and became a surgeon at Huaijing First Hospital. After her father’s death, Xie Mingcheng took control of the Zhou family and brought Song Lingwei and her son into the household.

Zhou Li had fought with him over it, but the argument went nowhere. Grief-stricken and physically weakened, she fell seriously ill, quit medicine, and stopped opposing Song Lingwei and her son.

She now lived in the small building behind the main villa, rarely going out. These days, she barely even saw Xie Shangjing.

Xie Shangjing’s delicate, handsome face twisted with irritation. He shot Xie Guilan a cold glare before storming off after Zhou Li.

Xie Guilan stood silently to the side, waiting until they were gone before shouldering his bag and heading toward the stable’s shack.

Then Xie Mingcheng suddenly clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Zhou Li’s secretary—Zhou Jiacheng,” Xie Mingcheng said, his silver-rimmed glasses glinting coldly. “You’ve met him before, haven’t you?”

Xie Guilan didn’t respond.

Xie Mingcheng’s gaze darkened as he watched Zhou Li and Zhou Jiacheng walk away.

Zhou Jiacheng was Zhou Li’s cousin.

Zhou Li still controlled a few insignificant Zhou family assets, which Zhou Jiacheng managed for her. He visited the Xie residence occasionally, but lately, his visits had become suspiciously frequent.

This woman never learns her place. She couldn’t even bother with her own son, too busy scheming against him.

Under the heavy night sky, Xie Mingcheng tightened his grip on Xie Guilan’s shoulder, leaning in to whisper, “These people aren’t as sensible as your mother. They just take up space here.”

Xie Guilan lifted his cold, lidded eyes. His dark gaze fixed on Xie Mingcheng, blacker than the night itself.

Xie Mingcheng smirked.

“It’s about to rain. Don’t you think?”

---

Cen Wu didn’t see much of Xie Guilan over the next week. The competition finals were heating up, and after the Qingyue Cup cheating scandal, the provincial authorities had replaced the entire judging and question-setting committee. This year’s finals would be even more unpredictable.

Every school took it seriously, and Xie Guilan was busy with intensive training. Cen Wu didn’t see him again until Friday evening, before self-study period.

Meng Liangping had printed out photos from the autumn outing and left them on the podium for anyone who wanted one. Nearly the entire class had taken a copy.

Xie Guilan slung his bag over his shoulder and took his seat. His pale, cold complexion and dark, indifferent eyes made him seem unapproachable. Meng Liangping kept shooting him meaningful glances, but Xie Guilan ignored them.

Meng Liangping cleared his throat. “Anyone else want one? There’s one left.”

Zhang Yuanzhou, thinking it was up for grabs, reached for it—only for Meng Liangping to smack his hand away. Zhang Yuanzhou tried several times to wrestle it free, to no avail.

Zhang Yuanzhou: ?

What, am I not part of this class?

Cen Wu turned around, eyeing his sharp, beautiful deskmate. Summoning his courage, he raised his hand.

Teacher, Xie Guilan wants one too. The poor kid cried all night because he didn’t get a photo.

Meng Liangping handed it to Cen Wu—he knew it was for Xie Guilan anyway. He’d tried his best to be considerate, but no one could match Cen Wu’s thoughtfulness.

Before the bell rang, Meng Liangping walked to the back and tapped Xie Guilan’s desk.

“Xiao Yi, come with me for a minute.”

Xie Yiping’s face remained expressionless.

Competitions inevitably brought some tension, and this year’s finals weren’t even in Huaijing—they were in the neighboring city. Xie Guilan had to leave early that evening to catch his train, so Meng Liangping called him into the office for a long list of reminders.

“Once you get there,” Meng Liangping said, “keep an eye on the competition organizers. If anything seems off, let me know immediately. Or the principal. Or the dean. Anyone at the school, really—just make sure you report it.”

Xie Guilan nodded. “Got it. Thanks, teacher.”

Meng Liangping still wasn’t entirely at ease. He knew a few teachers in the neighboring city and wanted to ask them to look out for Xie Guilan.

He motioned for Xie Guilan to hand over his phone so he could input their contact information.

Just as he was typing, a notification popped up on Xie Guilan’s screen.

[Baby: I’ll come see you off later.]

Meng Liangping: “…”

Xie Guilan: “…”

Meng Liangping forced a dry laugh. “A friend of yours, huh? That’s… quite a nickname.”

The office fell into an awkward silence.

Meng Liangping struggled for words, not wanting to be too harsh. “Xiao Xie… you… I… sigh.”

Cen Wu used his original account for class groups and teachers, but his personal one only had Xie Guilan added. The cat profile picture didn’t give anything away, and while Meng Liangping briefly suspected Cen Wu, he dismissed it quickly. After all, Cen Wu’s… situation with Xie Shangjing was already public knowledge among the faculty. And since Xie Shangjing was Xie Guilan’s brother, the whole thing would be too messy to untangle.

Rich people drama. He didn’t get it.

But he refused to believe Xie Guilan would be involved in something like that.

“It won’t affect the competition,” Xie Guilan said calmly, this time not bothering to deny anything about dating.

Meng Liangping’s heart shattered. His top student—his prized first-place ranker—was also falling into the trap of early romance? But he didn’t want to stress Xie Guilan out before the exam, so he just sighed. “Just… don’t let the dean find out.”

He could turn a blind eye, but the dean was ruthless. If he got wind of this, “Baby” would be exposed in no time.

---

Cen Wu waited for Xie Guilan in the classroom. An hour into self-study, Xie Guilan still hadn’t returned.

After ten more minutes, he started packing his bag.

Another ten minutes—he hunched over and quietly moved to Xie Guilan’s seat.

Another ten minutes—he began dutifully packing Xie Guilan’s bag for him.

Then he looked up and saw Xie Guilan standing at the back door.

Blinking, Cen Wu shoved the bag into Xie Guilan’s hands and ducked out the door.

Meng Liangping, who had just stepped onto the podium, spotted the escape immediately. “CEN WU!” he bellowed.

Cen Wu’s legs nearly gave out from fright, but Xie Guilan grabbed his hand and pulled him into a sprint down the stairs. The classroom lights faded behind them, the night wind chasing their footsteps.

Meng Liangping watched them go, shaking his head with a resigned chuckle.

Cen Wu’s hands trembled, his heart pounding even after they reached the ground floor. He kept glancing back, paranoid that their teacher would come after them.

“He’s not following,” Xie Guilan said.

Only then did Cen Wu relax. His eyes, bright and slightly damp under the lights, sparkled with exhilaration. His cheeks were flushed from running, a fine sheen of sweat on his nose as he caught his breath.

Xie Guilan brushed a thumb over his nose and suddenly asked, “Young Master, want to sneak out over the wall?”

Xie Guilan had a legitimate reason for leaving early, but Cen Wu was straight-up skipping class. The idea was tempting, so Xie Guilan led him to the back playground, where the wall was low—a popular escape route.

Xie Guilan alternated between the gates and the wall depending on his mood.

Cen Wu hadn’t attended much high school in his original life, but this was his first time climbing a wall to skip. After a few failed attempts, Xie Guilan cupped his thighs and boosted him up.

The commotion caught the attention of a security guard, who immediately sprinted over, flashlight raised.

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” the guard shouted. “Which class are you from?!”

Startled, Cen Wu nearly toppled backward, but Xie Guilan vaulted up and steadied him.

Once on the other side, Xie Guilan reached out. The guard was closing in fast, so Cen Wu squeezed his eyes shut and let himself drop.

He landed squarely in Xie Guilan’s arms.

Xie Guilan caught him, grabbed their bags, and took off running. By the time the guard made it out, they were long gone.

“Xie Guilan,” Cen Wu huffed as they squeezed onto a crowded bus. He punched Xie Guilan’s shoulder, weirdly exhilarated—so much so that he didn’t even stutter. “You skipped class too?!”

“To keep you company,” Xie Guilan replied, amused by the sudden hit. He noticed the lack of a stutter but didn’t point it out, instead pulling Cen Wu closer to shield him from the jostling crowd.

Pressed tightly against Xie Guilan’s chest, Cen Wu could only see the line of his throat. He clung to Xie Guilan’s bag strap, afraid of getting separated.

The station wasn’t far. Half an hour later, they arrived.

Late October brought chilly nights, so Xie Guilan bought Cen Wu a lychee milk tea to warm his hands.

He’d planned to say goodbye at the ticket gate, but Cen Wu followed him through, mumbling, “I-I’ll walk you to the platform.”

Xie Guilan didn’t refuse.

On the platform, the wind bit colder. Xie Guilan reached out to touch Cen Wu’s icy cheek—only to realize his own hands were just as cold. Cen Wu flinched away, circling Xie Guilan like a restless cat.

Nearby, curious glances flicked their way. Blushing, Cen Wu finally stopped.

This is bad. The whole world probably thought they were dating. At this point, he was starting to believe it too.

Xie Guilan was going to ruin him. How was he supposed to walk away now?

A railway map lined the platform. Cen Wu pressed a finger to it, tracing the route from Huaijing to distant cities.

Xie Guilan lifted his gaze. Under the dim, vast night sky, his dark pupils seemed to shimmer like water as he suddenly asked, “When I come back, will you be here waiting for me?”

The moon hung exceptionally high tonight.

It made him feel like Cen Wu didn’t belong to this place either.

Cen Wu was taken aback. Xie Guilan would only be gone for a day or two—why did it sound like they were parting for ages?

“I-I’ll come pick you up at the station,” Cen Wu promised.

“Goodnight,” Xie Guilan said as the train arrived, releasing his hand. “Young Master, go home early.”

Cen Wu nodded in agreement.

Xie Guilan gave him one last look before boarding. His seat was in the last carriage by the window. Once settled, he saw Cen Wu still on the platform, waving at him.

Aside from competitions, Xie Guilan rarely took trains. Huaijing’s station was old and worn, stirring memories from many years ago—he really had come here once with Song Lingwei.

But back then, he’d only been three or four. Without a ticket, he couldn’t enter. After lingering awhile, he’d returned to the orphanage gates alone.

That bitterly cold winter, he’d waited endlessly for Song Lingwei. Waiting had become habit—yet this was the first time someone had ever waited for him.

A single small lamp on the platform cast its light through the long, long night.