Chapter 32

Chapter 32

That emoji was a bold move; good thing Fang Bingxue was too exhausted to retort.

Upon arriving home, he skipped dinner and washing his face. Kicking off his shoes while shrugging off his coat, he stumbled forward and collapsed onto the bed.

After two sleepless nights, this sleep left him feeling groggy and uncomfortable.

When he woke, Fang Bingxue rolled over, burying his face in the pillow with a soft groan. Though it was summer, Lichuan County’s high altitude kept the overall temperature cool. He had pulled a corner of the blanket over his stomach, but the movement sent it sliding off.

His head still throbbed; he didn't want to get up.

He lingered in bed for a while before slowly dragging himself up. Hunger was the only thing that drove him—otherwise, he could have easily stayed in bed for another three hours. The bedroom was pitch black. Fang Bingxue fumbled for his phone and checked it.

His boss had already told him to take a couple of days off, so work wasn't an issue. After glancing at a few messages, Fang Bingxue looked out the window.

June 1st at midnight marked his birthday.

Today was the 14th day of the lunar month. Without turning on the lights, Fang Bingxue walked to the balcony and looked out, just in time to catch sight of a bright, nearly-round moon hanging in the ink-black sky.

Earlier, he’d tossed his clothes carelessly on the floor before sleeping, so now he was left in just his jeans, shirtless as he leaned against the railing and lit a cigarette.

His hair had grown a bit, stubble darkening his jaw. The smooth lines of his muscles tapered down to a narrow waist—no wonder he’d slept poorly; he’d even forgotten to remove his belt, which now stuck out awkwardly. With a careless tug, he yanked it free and tossed it to the ground.

This version of him was nothing like his usual self.

Lazy, disheveled, eyes still bloodshot but bright, with a wild, untamed intensity.

His jeans hung low, the dip of his spine deep. Fang Bingxue’s muscles were well-defined—not overly bulky but lean and powerful, with hidden strength.

Holding the cigarette between his teeth, he squinted at his phone screen. While he’d been asleep, Zhou Xu had sent another message:

"How’s the food? :P"

Fang Bingxue stared at the emoticon for a long moment before a smile broke through.

That laugh seemed to release all the fatigue in his body, sharply reminding him that he was starving and needed to eat. But he wasn’t in a hurry. He pondered how to reply to Zhou Xu. By all logic, a whole day had passed—he didn’t *have* to respond, or he could just say something polite.

Maybe it was the late hour loosening his restraint. Maybe it was the loneliness creeping in on his birthday. Whatever the reason, he gave up the struggle. After all, off-duty Fang Bingxue was nothing if not fussy and dramatic.

He typed back: "Nah, still haven’t eaten. Literally starving here."

The moment the little envelope icon appeared on the screen, regret hit him. Why had he sent it so fast? He should’ve added an emoticon too.

Two seconds. Three.

By the tenth second, Zhou Xu’s call came through.

"What’s going on?"

Zhou Xu’s voice was deep through the phone. "You’re alone? You’ve been starving all this time?"

Fang Bingxue replied, "Yeah."

As he spoke, he absently moved his wrist—only to realize the railing was covered in dust from the wind. His arms were dirty with dust.

So when Zhou Xu offered to pick him up, Fang Bingxue said quickly, "Hold on, let me shower first."

Silence.

After a beat, Zhou Xu responded, "Alright. I’ll wait. No rush."

His words said *no rush*, but he hung up in a hurry, almost flustered. The dial tone finally made Fang Bingxue realize—that *shower* comment had sounded... suggestive.

"Damn it," he muttered, rubbing his face as he turned back inside. "This is bad."

But hunger came first.

By the time Fang Bingxue reached the intersection and spotted the figure leaning against a motorcycle, he moved like a starving wolf, heading straight for—

The lunchbox in Zhou Xu’s hand.

"Here, eat something first," Zhou Xu said, amused. "I just made a couple of egg pancakes—still hot. How’d you get this hungry?"

He unscrewed the stainless-steel container. The top layer held two neatly folded, steaming pancakes.

Chopsticks were handed over next.

As Fang Bingxue ate, Zhou Xu opened the lower compartment—a warm, slightly sweet rice wine soup with egg drops, wolfberries, and tiny glutinous rice balls. The wine taste was light, just enough to soothe.

Zhou Xu asked, "You haven’t eaten all day, so I didn’t want to make your stomach upset. How’s the taste?"

Fang Bingxue scooped up the soup. "Perfect. So good."

Under the quiet streetlamp, they stood like this—Zhou Xu watching Fang Bingxue eat, feeling a pang of sympathy. Despite the fresh shower, it was obvious the man was exhausted. A faint scratch marked his jaw.

Originally, Zhou Xu had planned to take him home for a proper meal—stir-fried dishes, congee. But the thought of bringing him back late at night felt... inappropriate. Disrespectful, even.

So he made this simple meal instead.

Once finished, Zhou Xu packed up the container. "Here, wipe your mouth."

Fang Bingxue took the tissue. "Thanks."

Neither moved. Zhou Xu looked at him. "A whole day without eating?"

"Yep."

"What happened to your jaw?"

"Nothing. My mom sent me a razor," Fang Bingxue said. "First time using it after my shower. Slipped and cut me."

"That's rough."

"Tell me about it."

"Come on," Zhou Xu got on the bike, handing him a helmet. "Let’s get you some proper food. A little comfort."

Fang Bingxue blinked. "I’m already full."

Zhou Xu wasn’t surprised. "Fine. Then take these snacks home, at least."

He unhooked a bag from the motorcycle’s rear. "Not much—just some beef jerky and dried fruit, things like that."

Fang Bingxue hesitated. "This is... too much."

"It's fine," Zhou Xu said. "I’ve got plenty. Don't overthink it."

It was past 1 a.m. now, the chilly night air. Fang Bingxue wore a thin hoodie, the wind sweeping his hair back, revealing his face—his expression soft, though his words still made Zhou Xu chuckle.

Fang Bingxue's tone had a playful, shameless edge, "Are you trying to say you usually feed your dogs like this and it's just a habit for you?"

Zhou Xu turned his face away, laughing, "No."

He thought to himself, *As if I’d dare?*

"What about you?" Fang Bingxue ducked around the bike’s front to the other side, leaning in to study Zhou Xu’s face. "Why are you still up so late?"

Zhou Xu hadn’t expected Fang Bingxue to come around and was momentarily caught off guard. "Ah..."

Fang Bingxue asked, "What time do you usually go to bed?"

"Anytime," Zhou Xu replied cautiously. "Just depends."

He couldn’t quite read Fang. Originally, Zhou Xu had a backup plan—if Fang Bingxue didn’t join him for a meal, he’d just drop off the snacks and head back.

Fang Bingxue nodded. "Alright. Anyway, tonight I’ve already eaten your food *and* taken your snacks—total mooch behavior."

Zhou Xu quickly interjected, "No, not at all."

"Let’s just pull an all-nighter," Fang Bingxue said with a grin. "Bro Xu, how about giving me a haircut too?"

He’d made up his mind—tonight, he’d go all out. After all, it was his birthday. Fang Bingxue felt entitled to some privileges, so what if he acted shameless?

Zhou Xu had been nothing but cool, never saying anything inappropriate. Fang Bingxue really enjoyed talking to him—it was easy, comfortable, and no overthinking needed. Plus, having slept the entire day, being stuck inside his room now would’ve sucked. Of course, he wanted to go out for a bit.

Well, after coming up with all these excuses, Fang Bingxue still wound up perched on Zhou Xu’s motorcycle.

He thought his reasons were pretty solid.

So Fang Bingxue wasn’t even a little weirded out—he was completely at ease, even resting his hand boldly on Zhou Xu’s shoulder. "You really not tired?"

The wind roared past their ears as Zhou Xu gunned the throttle. "Not tired."

Fang Bingxue joked, "Then let’s just stay up. We can make it a kids’ night."

Zhou Xu didn’t turn back. "Okay."

For someone like Fang Bingxue—outwardly unassuming but stubborn, reserved, and dealing with a high-pressure job—interacting with Zhou Xu was just too comfortable. No stress, no act. Even if they didn’t say a word, it still felt natural.

He was really grateful to Zhou Xu, but he’d already said thanks tonight. Repeating it would seem overly sentimental or distant, and he’d feel embarrassed. So instead, he leaned slightly to the side, letting their helmets bump gently against each other.

The sound was faint—like the whisper of spring ice thawing.