chapter 38

Chapter 38

Barefoot, Ning Qiuyan stood on the retro floral tiles of the bathroom, fine, warm mist spraying from the brass showerhead, soaking him from head to toe. Droplets seeped into his fair skin, sliding down and splashing softly onto the floor.

The body wash was freesia-scented, light and sweet, often lingering until the next day. Every time Ning Qiuyan finished his shower and slipped into bed, he could smell his own scent.

“You’ve showered?”

He heard Guan Heng repeat the question.

“Mm, before coming upstairs,” Ning Qiuyan replied.

It was a perfectly normal thing, just as Guan Ziming had said-he was simply doing his job, fulfilling his duty. But saying it out loud made it feel oddly awkward.

Since he had already said it, and worried Guan Heng might still have concerns, Ning Qiuyan decided to be even clearer: “The temperature here is just right, and I don’t sweat much. I should be fine until tomorrow morning.” Gathering his courage, he turned to look at Guan Heng and asked again, “Can I stay here?”

Guan Heng was habitually sitting with one leg bent, his elbow resting on his knee. His broad shoulders and back, and those phoenix eyes-deep and unreadable-seemed to see through everything, giving off a subtle sense of pressure.

Ning Qiuyan thought, Guan Heng probably knew exactly what he was thinking.

Wanting to finish the puzzle quickly was one reason, but his true intention was to stay here, on the third floor, as close to Guan Heng as possible for a little longer.

But Ning Qiuyan couldn’t say that out loud.

Guan Heng didn’t expose him, only spoke in his usual tone: “Are you sure you can last the whole night?”

Ning Qiuyan answered, “Of course.”

Guan Heng instructed, “Bring me the box next to you.”

That was agreement.

Relieved, Ning Qiuyan hurriedly handed the box of puzzle pieces to Guan Heng.

Guan Heng took the box, his pale, slender fingers gently sifting through the pieces. “The other box.”

The puzzle pieces in the cardboard boxes had been sorted by color together.

“Okay.” Ning Qiuyan stood up, circled to the other end of the puzzle mat to fetch the box, and returned, kneeling casually on the floor. He was clearly a little happy, though he didn’t realize how obedient he looked, almost like a small animal.

His eyes sparkled as he said to Guan Heng, “I can do the puzzle myself. If you have things to do, go ahead. I promise I’ll be very quiet!”

“Humans sleep at night. There’s nothing to do.” Guan Heng took the box from his arms directly. “Come, I’ll help you with a few pieces.”

He was going to keep him company.

Ning Qiuyan was surprised, then lowered his head again. “Okay.”

That feeling returned.

Back in Wutong, he often asked Guan Heng all sorts of strange questions, and Guan Heng always answered. Ning Qiuyan often felt that Guan Heng would indulge whatever he did. But that was only through text messages-when he couldn’t see Guan Heng, Ning Qiuyan was bolder. In person, he was much more restrained, and had almost never felt that way around Guan Heng before.

This was the first time he confirmed that feeling face-to-face.

A secret sense of joy welled up in his heart, his fingers began to tremble slightly, unsure if the puzzle piece he placed was correct.

Fortunately, it fit perfectly into the pattern.

Ning Qiuyan tried to stay calm, searching for a topic to chat with Guan Heng: “What do you usually do at this time?”

“It depends. No fixed schedule,” Guan Heng replied. “Sometimes I read, go online, or take a walk.”

Ning Qiuyan asked, “You walk around the island at night? But except for the path with streetlights, it’s pitch dark everywhere. Last time I got lost like that-after dark, you can’t see anything in the woods.”

The conversation opened up.

“There’s not much to see in winter, but spring and summer are more interesting,” Guan Heng said. “Animals are much more active than in winter, good for chasing and hunting. Foxes, wolves, or wild boars-all have keen senses and agile movements, easy to pass the time with.”

Ning Qiuyan hadn’t expected Guan Heng to have such interests. “Do you use a hunting rifle?”

He was too naive.

“I can, but there’s no need,” Guan Heng answered truthfully and ruthlessly. “We’re better at using our teeth.”

Ning Qiuyan froze.

He immediately remembered, in the dim light, Guan Heng’s blood-stained, snow-white fangs, and his limbs went numb.

Guan Heng didn’t let Ning Qiuyan’s thoughts wander far, quickly adding, “Most of the time, I’m asleep.”

Ning Qiuyan’s train of thought was pulled back: “From day to night… you sleep all the time?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Guan Heng replied blandly, “Even the most interesting things become dull after you’ve done them thousands of times.”

That was very real.

After a dozen seconds of quiet, Ning Qiuyan picked up the conversation again: “You paint a lot too, right? I saw your paintings in the studio downstairs.”

Guan Heng remained calm: “Mm.”

It seemed that every move Ning Qiuyan made was reported to him.
“Which one do you like?” Guan Heng asked.

Ning Qiuyan didn’t dare to lie and answered honestly, “The one with the sunrise over the sea, with the Lighthouse, the ocean, and a faint morning mist.”

Guan Heng paused.

The night was deep and silent.

Only at night did the mansion outside awaken, its lights still on. Looking out the window into the distance, everything was shrouded in darkness, the forest and mountains forming blurry silhouettes.

“This afternoon I went near the Lighthouse and found the angle you painted from. I realized that from that spot, the view is much broader and even more beautiful,” Ning Qiuyan said. “But I didn’t wait for sunset, and I’ve never seen such a beautiful sunrise.”

Guan Heng resumed piecing together the puzzle, unhurried and graceful as always.

He seemed to be sharing an ancient secret: “Some nights I go there, right after sunset. It’s always quiet there; you can hear the waves or feel the wind. Occasionally, a boat passes slowly across the sea-it’s a good place to clear your mind.”

Ning Qiuyan’s fingertips turned pale as he gripped a puzzle piece unconsciously tighter.

He had guessed right.

Guan Heng really did go there, standing in the same spot as him, gazing into the distance in the night.

It was incredible. Even before seeing that painting, Ning Qiuyan had liked the Lighthouse very much. He hadn’t expected to share such a coincidence with Guan Heng, without any prior discussion-pure chance.

Guan Heng probably didn’t know this.

Ning Qiuyan didn’t mention it either.

He wanted to keep this commonality as his own secret treasure.

The puzzle room fell silent.

Several seconds later, Ning Qiuyan spoke again, “May I ask you a question?”

Ning Qiuyan had already asked far more than “one a day,” but although he exceeded the quota, Guan Heng was always willing to answer, so it didn’t really count as breaking the rules.

He was testing.

Guan Heng had said that as long as he gave up his body, actions, and thoughts without reservation, all his needs would be met.

He wanted to see what Guan Heng would do if he was honest and open enough.

Guan Heng’s gaze fell on the puzzle, brows slightly furrowed, focused and casual. “Go ahead.”

The question came so quickly that, given Ning Qiuyan’s curiosity, it should have been about the “sunrise.” He should have asked Guan Heng why he avoided sunlight yet managed to capture such a brilliant sunrise.

With Ning Qiuyan’s intelligence, he could probably deduce that it might be related to Guan Heng’s blood.

But Ning Qiuyan’s question surprised Guan Heng.

“I seem… unable to feel your breathing.” When Guan Heng looked over, Ning Qiuyan’s face immediately flushed. “I’ve wanted to ask for a long time. Every time we do puzzles together, I think about it.”

Guan Heng: “Breathing?”

“I heard that you don’t breathe,” Ning Qiuyan said, “and you don’t have a heartbeat.”

Guan Heng raised his eyebrows slightly. “Lu Qianque warned me that once humans start asking questions, there are a hundred thousand whys-especially kids your age.”

“I’m not a kid!” Ning Qiuyan’s face reddened further, but he didn’t back down. “I… just want to know.”

“Your hand,” Guan Heng said.

Ning Qiuyan, confused, stretched out his hand, only for Guan Heng to easily grasp his wrist.

Their hands gently pressed together, the insides of their wrists touching.

“Hold on,” Guan Heng said gently and politely. “Feel my pulse.”

Ning Qiuyan hadn’t expected things to develop like this; his whole body felt ablaze, his face burning, and perhaps even the back of his neck was smoking.

Indulgence went a step deeper.

It seemed that no matter what Ning Qiuyan asked, he would be allowed.

Because he had given himself to Guan Heng.

Ning Qiuyan forced himself to hold on, not knowing where the courage came from. His mind was a blur, yet he kept reminding himself to learn everything he wanted to know, not pulling his hand away.

Guan Heng’s hand was much larger than his, fingers easily encircling his wrist. In contrast, Ning Qiuyan didn’t dare to grasp Guan Heng, his fingers curled, only the small patch of skin on the inside of his wrist burning where they touched.

Guan Heng’s skin was cool, his body temperature low-Ning Qiuyan already knew this.

But gradually, a look of surprise appeared on his face, because he felt Guan Heng’s pulse.

So there was one.

The pulse was slow.

About a dozen beats per minute, maybe even less.

Like the end of life.

Breathing was the same.

Guan Heng lowered his eyes to look at him, and Ning Qiuyan looked back. Only after a long time did he notice the faintest rise and fall of Guan Heng’s chest.

Guan Heng let go, and Ning Qiuyan’s hand dropped, his ears still red.

The topic began naturally and ended naturally.

The box Guan Heng had chosen was now empty, the colored pieces filling a small section of the puzzle.

“The other box,” Guan Heng said.”