Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Zhou Xu’s shower didn’t take long.

Fang Bingxue had nowhere to go and felt awkward in the room. The sound of running water kept drilling into his ears. Hiding in the yard would have made him look guilty, as if he didn’t dare to listen. After some thought, he simply ducked into the kitchen and stared at the pot.

Ginger tea was simple to make—just toss the ingredients in after the water boiled and let it simmer on low heat. Fang Bingxue spaced out for a while until he heard movement behind him and quickly coughed. “Wow, that was fast.”

Zhou Xu paused at the door. “...Pretty quick.”

It was a quick shower—just a rinse and a lather with soap. He had initially wrapped himself loosely with a towel but hesitated before stepping out, too shy to face anyone like that, so he went to the bedroom to change first.

But the person he wanted to see was standing with his back turned, acting busy.

A few slices of ginger remained on the cutting board, and Fang Bingxue continued chopping with a knife. “Ah, um, earlier, you got back fast too.”

This time, Zhou Xu fell silent for a bit longer. He didn’t hang out with many women, mostly a bunch of rowdy dudes who traded dirty jokes without restraint. If his friends heard something like “you’re so fast,” they’d be howling with laughter for ages before retorting, “Oh? You’d know?”

Fang Bingxue definitely wasn’t thinking along those lines. He was practically chopping the ginger into near-pulp, head bowed, utterly focused.

“All I did was fish them out,” Zhou Xu said, standing at the door without moving. “I didn’t handle draining or CPR. I don’t know how.”

Fang Bingxue replied, “...Oh.”

Zhou Xu added, “Folks on shore pitched in too. By the time I got there, they’d already thrown life rings and ropes into the river—someone even tossed a washbasin. The teacher was clutching it while thrashing about, so it wasn’t hard to save them.”

Fang Bingxue turned his head and glanced at Zhou Xu.

Zhou Xu had changed clothes and was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His short hair was still damp, carrying a faint scent of soap. The expression on his face was all too familiar to Fang Bingxue—like a champion police dog. Outwardly composed, but his tail was thumping his legs like a whip, his whole body screaming, *Scratch my ears! Tell me I’m good!*

If there weren’t this awkward tension hanging between them, Fang Bingxue really would’ve gone over to pat his shoulder and say, “Good job, man.” But Zhou Xu had asked before his shower if they could hug—as a reward—and that made him a little flustered.

Nervous, his hands slipped, reducing the ginger to mush.

Zhou Xu couldn’t hold back anymore and reminded him, “Is the ginger tea done?”

“Oh, right,” Fang Bingxue set the knife down. “It’s done. Here, let me get you some.”

A small milk pot sat on the gas stove, convenient for cooking. Fang Bingxue ladled the dark ginger soup into a bowl. “Here, try it.”

Zhou Xu took it and thought, *Damn, this hits the spot.*

The ginger soup was freshly made, steaming hot. He blew on it before taking careful sips, glancing at Fang Bingxue between drinks.

The two sat on the living room sofa. Fang Bingxue turned his face away. “What’re you looking at?”

“Sweet,” Zhou Xu grinned. “Really hits the spot.”

After finishing the bowl, the heat seeped into his bones, leaving him utterly comfortable. Zhou Xu had gone out late at night before, returning soaked and exhausted, but there had never been hot ginger soup waiting for him—much less having Fang Bingxue across from him.

Once done, Zhou Xu took the bowl back to the kitchen, washed it, and came back to find something unexpected.

Fang Bingxue was standing there, suddenly grinning and urging him, “Come on, come on, let’s hug. Your reward.”

In thirty seconds flat, he’d decided—no more hesitation.

Like hell he’d let Zhou Xu call the shots!

“What?” Fang Bingxue raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, Bro Xu? Getting shy?”

Zhou Xu locked eyes with him, then strode over and pulled Fang Bingxue into a hug.

It was less a hug than full-on engulfing him—Fang Bingxue’s arms circled Zhou Xu’s shoulders, even giving his back a few pats. “Man, you earned this. Not easy.”

There was no hidden meaning or tension about it. The hug was brief, lasting only two or three seconds before Zhou Xu released him, ducking his head with a quiet laugh.

Satisfied, pacified, no longer tail-whipping everyone in reach.

Fang Bingxue wasn’t awkward anymore either. Zhou Xu hadn’t held him too tightly—it was almost polite about it. If there was anything odd, it was just that Zhou Xu’s frame was so broad, his shoulders so wide, that when he stretched his arms, it felt like being swallowed whole.

“Alright,” Zhou Xu took a couple of steps back. “You should get some sleep. I’ll get your bed ready.”

With that, he turned and left. Fang Bingxue followed, biting back his complaint—he couldn’t exactly say, *I’ve been sleeping all day, I’m wired as a rat on coffee right now.*

The small house had three floors. The top level had a grape trellis, while the second floor was unfamiliar to Fang Bingxue—he didn’t know what it was for. Zhou Xu usually slept downstairs, with the kitchen and bathroom also on the first floor.

He led Fang Bingxue through the living room into a small moon-shaped archway. On the right were two bedrooms, separated by a short hallway. Zhou Xu paused at the door and turned back. “Do you... need anything special to sleep?”

Fang Bingxue, zoned out, almost plowing into him and quickly shook his head. “Ah, no, I don’t.”

Zhou Xu nodded. “Got it. Gimme a sec.”

The guest room wasn’t large, but it was well-equipped. Aside from a TV, there was a rosewood wardrobe with a full-length mirror, intricately carved. Fang Bingxue stood at the doorway, unsure how to feel, nodding on autopilot as Zhou Xu asked questions while deftly making the bed.

No use arguing—Zhou Xu wouldn’t let him assist.

“Get some proper rest,” Zhou Xu smoothed out the sheets. “When you wake up, we’ll go out for your big kid’s day.”

Fang Bingxue cringed hard enough to fold in half. “I—I was just joking.”

“No worries. I brought the water kettle—use this cup if you want a drink.” Zhou Xu pointed. “Remote’s here, slippers under the bed. If you can’t sleep, just let me know. I’m right next door.”

He turned to leave but stopped at the doorway. “Oh, do you guys... need pajamas?”

Zhou Xu wasn’t that particular—living alone, he never bothered with pajamas, just flopped onto bed shirtless.

Fang Bingxue hurriedly waved it off. “No, don’t sweat it.”

“There are clothes in the wardrobe,” Zhou Xu added after a pause. “If you want to change, help yourself.”

Fang Bingxue couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ugh, stop it,” he rubbed his face. “You’re treating me like a kid... No need to be so thorough.”

Zhou Xu didn’t say anything else, just chuckled and gave Fang Bingxue a long look. “I’m off.”

Fang Bingxue replied, “Yeah.”

The door closed from the outside.

Fang Bingxue glanced at the bed, his mood complicated. The sheets and quilt were freshly changed—navy blue cotton—the kind you could bury your face in and breathe in sunshine.

But he just... felt too embarrassed to sleep.

Fang Bingxue quietly turned on the TV, flipping to a random channel with the volume low, then lay down at the very edge of the bed in his clothes, staring blankly with his eyes closed.

He didn’t even unfold the blanket.

He lay like that for a while and somehow drifted off. When he woke up some time later, half his body was dangling off the bed, nearly falling.

He quickly rolled over, sat up after a while, and stretched lazily.

That nap had been incredibly refreshing, completely dispelling the exhaustion of the past few days, leaving him feeling utterly at ease.

Yet, along with that ease came the usual morning reaction of a young man.

Fang Bingxue wasn’t in a hurry. He leaned lazily against the bedside table, zoning out, waiting for that stirring to fade on its own. After all, for a healthy young guy, this was all too common. Back when he lived in the dorm, if someone woke up late and burrowed under the covers chuckling, saying, "Oh, you guys go ahead," everyone knew what it meant. They’d tease, "Rushing us out for some alone time, huh?"

No one made a big deal out of it.

No—actually, if it *didn’t* happen, *that* would be cause for concern.

If he were at home or in the dorm, taking care of it in the shower would do the trick. But here, in Zhou Xu’s home, Fang Bingxue would *never* do such a thing. He wasn’t the type with strong urges anyway—his mind and body were usually occupied, he was often wound tight, so he only dealt with it hastily on rare occasions.

But right now, he also needed to use the bathroom.

Fang Bingxue jumped off the bed and walked in circles, trying to clear his mind, when suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

Zhou Xu called from outside, "Fang Bingxue?"

Fang Bingxue dove back into bed, hauled the covers up, and answered loudly, "What?"

"You didn’t reply to my message," Zhou Xu’s voice came through, light and amused. "Heard some noise… You up? What do you want to eat?"

Fang Bingxue instinctively grabbed his phone—sure enough, it had died and shut off on its own.

"Anything’s fine," he replied stiffly. "I’ll get ready in a bit."

Zhou Xu said, "No rush."

By the time Fang Bingxue had calmed down and stepped out of the bathroom after washing his hands, Zhou Xu was already cooking in the kitchen. The door was open, the range hood whirring loudly. The man had one hand in his pocket and gave Fang Bingxue a quick once-over. "Hey."

Fang Bingxue felt inexplicably guilty, his tone turning stiff. "What?"

"Nothing," Zhou Xu gave the pan a practiced flip, laughing under his breath. "Just thought you looked handsome."

After saying that, he covered the pan with a lid and turned to face Fang Bingxue. "Wash your hands?"

"I did," Fang Bingxue answered honestly. "I saw a disposable toothbrush and used that too."

Zhou Xu rubbed his thumb along his own chin. "Here. Want me to clean that up for you?"

The cut Fang Bingxue got yesterday wasn’t deep—just a few beads of blood—and now only a faint mark remained. He touched it. "Huh?"

Truthfully, he didn’t even need to shave. Unlike Zhou Xu, who was rough with stubble by morning, Fang Bingxue’s facial hair grew much slower, like his hair texture—Zhou Xu’s was coarse and prickly, while Fang Bingxue’s was soft. Even after two or three days without a razor, you wouldn't even notice.

"Come on," Zhou Xu was already walking toward him. "This soup needs to simmer for over ten minutes. Plenty of time."

Fang Bingxue took a step back. "Cutting my hair was one thing, but now you want to shave me too? What’s next—feeding me?"

Zhou Xu grinned. "Wouldn't say no."

"You're insane," Fang Bingxue glared. "If you’re that bored, get a dog and feed *it*."

Zhou Xu was already standing right in front of him, studying the faint mark on his chin, silent.

Fang Bingxue’s back hit the wall. He caught his breath slightly, scowling. "What are you doing?"

"Forgot your face cream?" Zhou Xu’s gaze lifted, lingering on Fang Bingxue’s eyes. "I bought two new bottles. They're on the counter. Want me to get them for you?"

Fang Bingxue’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

They were too close now, close enough to feel body heat.

That raw masculine presence radiating from Zhou Xu pressed down on him—domineering, aggressive, tinged with quiet curiosity.

In that locked gaze, Fang Bingxue felt a private rush.

He had never been one to follow the rules. With his baby face, fair skin, and a disarming smile, he seemed gentle—but underneath, he was wild and unyielding. Fang Bingxue still remembered his first takedown with a suspect, that robbery suspect who was armed with a knife during the arrest.

After his colleagues cuffed the guy, Fang Bingxue sat in the police car, a cig dangling from his mouth, expressionless as he wiped the blood from between his fingers with a wet towel.

His mentor had once scolded him for being too soft. But later, the mentor stopped saying that.

*Thank Christ you've got morals, you little shit,* his mentor had said.

Fang Bingxue had just grinned, playing dumb. *Mentor, I don’t get it.*

So now, even with the unease and embarrassment, that competitive edge still won out. Fang Bingxue tilted his chin up slightly, sizing Zhou Xu up through narrowed eyes, his voice low. "Why so… invested?"

Zhou Xu’s breathing grew heavier. "I don’t."

Fang Bingxue tilted his head. "You know whether you do or not."

Making his bed, cooking for him, volunteering to shave him, insisting on moisturizer—even offering to feed him. What next? Gonna wipe for me too?

Zhou Xu licked his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing. "You’re right… I do."

His pulse jumped as he genuinely wondered if he’d been too overbearing, too up in his business, his possessiveness straight-up disrespectful.

Fang Bingxue quirked a smile. "Say it again."

Zhou Xu immediately lowered his head. "I’m sorry."

A seasoned interrogator never missed a chance to press an advantage. Fang Bingxue’s tone was cool. "One more chance. Say it right."

His meaning was simple—make Zhou Xu admit he’d overstepped.

Zhou Xu’s chest rose and fell, every muscle locked—yet he didn’t retreat an inch.

In their silent battle of wills, only his voice grew quieter, bending to Fang Bingxue’s will—

"My mistake. Apologies… *sir*," he muttered.