Chapter Text
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The September sun was melting the asphalt in front of the university's main building, but Huang Xing couldn’t care less. He casually parked his matte-black bike right under a spreading maple tree, ignoring the security guard's disapproving look. Nobody in their right mind would mess with Huang Xing. Tall, lean, wearing his perpetually unzipped leather jacket over a simple black t-shirt, he possessed that rare, wicked charisma that forced people to turn their heads.
He was a sophomore studying logistics. A simple, grounded major he chose only because they didn't pester him with stupid creative assignments. Numbers, routes, cold calculations, everything just the way he liked it.
Huang Xing walked down the hallway under the gaze of dozens of eyes. Legends circulated about his ability to make anyone fall in love with him at first sight. The guy could just smile out of the corner of his mouth, and another poor soul would already be planning a future together, yet he remained true to his nickname: a cold block of ice. He collected hearts, bathed in admiration, but gave nothing in return. No dates, no commitments. Until today.
The hustle and bustle in the hallway before the first lecture resembled a beehive. Huang Xing was plowing through the crowd, looking down at his phone screen, when suddenly someone crashed into him full force around a corner. There was a dull thud, the rustle of paper, and a heavy stack of books cascaded like an avalanche onto the linoleum.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going at all..." came a quiet, slightly flustered voice.
Huang had already prepared his usual icy glare to brush past, but as he looked down, he froze. For a second, it felt as if a beam of pure, surreal light had cut through the university's stuffy ceiling. Kneeling before him was a guy, no, a real angel in the flesh.
He was wearing a loose, flawless soft-blue shirt and white trousers that were now at risk of getting dirty. His black hair stuck out in a cute, chaotic mess, as if he had just rolled out of bed. From beneath fluffy eyelashes, huge, clear eyes looked up at him, reflecting genuine fright.
"You alright?" Huang Xing's voice sounded a bit raspy, deeper than usual.
He squatted down, reaching out toward one of the fallen books. The cover read: Architectural Design.
"Ah, so this angel is from the Faculty of Architecture and Urban Planning," Huang Xing thought to himself.
"Yes, thank you... It's just that my lecture is on the other side of the building, and I have... the entire library here," the guy smiled awkwardly, and inside Xing, it felt as though a tectonic plate had shifted.
Huang Xing took the initiative, effortlessly gathering the massive volumes into a single pile. His fingers brushed against the stranger's palm for a second, his skin was warm and soft.
"I'll help. Where to?"
"Oh, you don't have to, I can..." the angel tried to take the books back, but Huang Xing merely raised an eyebrow. "Room 304. It's on the third floor."
They walked down the hallway together, and Huang Xing caught the shocked looks of his classmates. Huang Xing himself carrying someone's textbooks? Had the world gone mad? But he didn't give a damn, he was covertly checking out his companion.
"I'm Huang Xing. Second-year logistics," he introduced himself.
"Qiu Dingjie. Second year too, but in architecture," the guy looked at him openly.
And at that moment, Huang Xing was completely lost. Qiu Dingjie had incredibly deep, clear eyes that lacked even a trace of the falseness and self-interest Huang Xing was used to in his circle. But even more mesmerizing were his lips. Plump, with a natural rosy tint, Dingjie gently bit his lower lip out of nervousness as they walked. A dangerous, almost tangible fire flared up inside Huang Xing.
"I desperately want to taste them. Right here, pinning him against this painted wall," a crazy thought flashed through his mind.
They reached the doors of Room 304.
"Thank you so much, Huang Xing. You really saved me. If it weren't for you, I definitely would have been late to see the dean," Dingjie smiled so warmly that the other's infamous icy shell seemed to crack completely.
Huang Xing remained silent, simply staring at him. In his head, a clear and decisive route was already forming for how, where, and when he would cross paths with this guy again. He had to, he was obligated to, get to know this angel better.
"See you around, Qiu Dingjie," Huang Xing said softly.
Qiu blinked in surprise, thanked him once more, and disappeared behind the classroom door. Huang Xing remained standing in the emptying corridor. A predatory yet thoroughly satisfied smirk slowly spread across his face.
Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he get his phone number?
Because Huang Xing didn't like rushing, he liked the hunt. He liked it when the prey realized on its own that there was nowhere to run. This was only the first scene of their movie, and there could be only one ending to this picture. Qiu Dingjie didn't know yet that his peaceful student life had ended the second he bumped into the university's main bad boy.
"What Huang Xing wants, Huang Xing gets," he thought, turning on his heel and heading toward the exit. And he was going to take Dingjie for himself, completely and entirely. There was simply no other way.
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For the rest of the day, Qiu Dingjie felt as though an outsider, an element that didn't fit into the proportions at all, had settled into his blueprints. And that element was Huang Xing. After classes, Dingjie made a tactical mistake: he asked his class monitor about the guy from logistics. The response came immediately and resembled a warning about radiation danger.
"Dingjie, stay far away from him," his classmate instructed in a whisper. "Huang Xing is a handsome iceberg. Everyone who tries to get close to him goes down. Cold, weird, never gets attached to anyone. He'll use you and dump you without blinking an eye. He's a bastard through and through, just in very expensive wrapping."
"A pity," Dingjie thought at the time as he packed his bag. "And I thought he seemed... charming." His heart stung a little with disappointment, but the image of Huang Xing, his bold gaze, his slicked-back hair, and the way that leather jacket fit him, just wouldn't leave his mind.
Stepping out of the university's glass doors, Dingjie inhaled the cool evening air and adjusted the strap of his backpack.
"Hey, Qiu Dingjie!" a deep, slightly raspy voice called out from behind.
He turned around. Walking toward him, hands casually shoved into his jeans pockets, was Huang Xing, wearing a faint, almost shy half-smile.
"Huang Xing?.." Dingjie blinked.
"Glad you remembered my name," he stopped a step away, looking into his eyes. "You know, we didn't get to introduce ourselves properly after our encounter earlier. I thought... maybe we could make up for it? How about a cup of coffee? We could chat."
Sirens instantly went off in Dingjie's head. "Say no. Remember what they say about him. You'll get your heart broken." Logic demanded a polite refusal citing a mountain of homework, but his heart, treacherously fluttering somewhere in his throat, betrayed him completely.
"Well... I never say no to good coffee."
"Great," Huang Xing's eyes flashed for a second with such pure, childlike delight that Dingjie became thoroughly confused about what was rumor and what was reality. "I know a cozy place nearby."
The cafe turned out to be small and comfortable, with muted warm light and the aroma of ground coffee and cinnamon. They sat by the window, Dingjie warmed his hands against his latte cup, while Xing drank an americano, unable to take his eyes off him.
"I'm sorry if I came across as pushy," Huang said softly. "It's just... when I saw you this morning, I got this strange feeling. As if passing you by meant missing out on the most important thing in my life."
Qiu Dingjie blushed slightly, burying his nose in the coffee foam. "Do you say that to everyone? My classmates said you're a renowned heartbreaker."
Huang Xing chuckled quietly. "Oh, doing background checks already? What else do they say? That I drink freshmen's blood during a full moon?"
"They say you're a cold bastard," he confessed honestly but quietly, daring to look straight in Xing's eye.
"I'm no saint, Dingjie, and with many people, I really do... keep my distance. I don't like empty talk, but with you, everything is different."
His words sounded so sincere that warmth bloomed in Dingjie's chest. It was a paradox: the guy everyone feared and considered strange was now sitting across from him, joking, resting his cheek on his hand, and listening with genuine interest to Dingjie's stories about complex architectural models, sleepless nights over drawings, and the time he accidentally superglued his own fingers together.
"So you literally suffered for art?" Xing winked.
"You could say that. What about logistics? Isn't it boring?"
"Incredibly boring," he agreed. "On the bright side, it helps calculate the shortest path to your heart. And the correct route for tonight brought me right to you."
Dingjie nearly choked on his drink, while Huang Xing smiled, pleased with the effect he had produced. To hide his embarrassment, Qiu took a quick sip of his latte, managing to leave a trace of milk foam on his upper lip.
Xing froze, his gaze softening even more. "Wait, don't move," he said softly.
Before Dingjie could realize what was happening, Xing reached across the table. His thumb gently touched Qiu's lip, wiping away the foam. The movement was fleeting, but it felt as if an electric charge had passed between them. Huang Xing couldn't help himself and lingered his fingers near his chin for a moment before pulling back.
"Sorry," he winked, not looking guilty in the slightest. "Couldn't help myself, you looked way too cute."
When they left the coffee shop, dusk had already fallen over the street, and the first streetlamps flickered to life. Qiu Dingjie shivered slightly, and Huang Xing immediately stepped closer, blocking him from the wind with his shoulder.
"Come on, I'll walk you home."
"Won't it be out of your way? I live in a completely different direction."
"My reference point for today is you. So it's right on my way," Xing smiled, lightly brushing his shoulder against Dingjie's as they walked.
They headed toward Dingjie's apartment building. They walked without rushing, side by side, occasionally bumping jacket sleeves, and every fleeting touch resonated with warmth in their chests.
Huang Xing looked at his angel's profile, his eyelashes, his delightfully messy hair, his neat nose slightly flushed from the chill. He wanted so desperately, to the point of aching joints, to reach out, catch those slender fingers, and intertwine them with his own to warm them up. "Don't rush, you idiot," he checked himself, clenching his fists in his pockets. "Don't scare him off, earn his trust first." But this burgeoning, fragile love was already occupying his every thought.
They stopped at the entrance of the high-rise building.
"Well, here we are," Dingjie turned to Xing, shifting from foot to foot. "Thanks for the coffee and the lovely conversation."
"Glad you liked it," Huang Xing took a step forward, closing the distance between them. He smelled of expensive cologne and a faint hint of tobacco smoke. "To lock in the result, I need your phone number. What if I urgently need consultation? Or... if I just want to hear your voice?"
Qiu Dingjie smiled, feeling his heart do a somersault. He pulled out his phone, and they exchanged contacts.
"Text me when you get home," Dingjie requested softly.
"I definitely will," he promised. "Good night, Dingjie."
Huang Xing waited until the guy went inside and the light turned on in a third-floor window. Only then did he turn around and walk back. A silly, completely happy, head-over-heels smile lingered on his face. He walked with his face lifted to the cool wind, not caring at all that it was already late. Only upon reaching the gates of his own apartment complex did Huang Xing stop and slap his forehead, laughing quietly into the empty street.
He had ridden his bike to campus that morning and left it in the parking lot by the main building because, upon seeing Dingjie, he had forgotten about everything else in the world. Pulling out his phone, Xing quickly typed a message:
"I miss you already. By the way, I was so distracted by you that I forgot my bike at the university. Had to walk back. You're definitely a bad influence on me, Qiu Dingjie :)"
But even the need to trudge back on foot to retrieve his bike couldn't ruin his mood. After all, tucked safely in his pocket was the phone number of the most wonderful architect in the world.
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The relationship between Huang Xing and Qiu Dingjie developed much like a campfire igniting in the woods: shy sparks at first, then a flame that could no longer be extinguished. The entire university was buzzing. The "cold ice" of the logistics faculty, the guy whose heart was considered an impenetrable fortress and whose murky reputation made freshmen avoid him by a mile, had suddenly turned into the most devoted knight. And for whom? For a fragile, smiling little angel from architecture – Qiu Dingjie.
Dingjie’s classmates were furious. They whispered behind his back, frowned, and openly expressed their discontent.
"Dingjie, have you lost your mind? That Huang Xing is a bastard and a scoundrel! He plays with people. You're just another two-week toy for him, wake up!"
But he merely pressed his lips together quietly and shook his head, because he saw what others did not.
Having obtained the coveted phone number, Huang Xing went on a decisive offensive. The entire next month turned into a fairytale woven from tangible care for Dingjie. Every morning began with Dingjie finding something special in his locker.
Huang Xing would leave a thermal mug made of matte soft-blue glass in the locker. Inside was homemade hot chocolate with cinnamon and marshmallows, and next to it lay a box of almond cookies.
He gave him flowers. Simple white daisies with fluffy clouds of pink gypsophila, and dry sprigs of lavender between them. Once, large roses the color of ripe, almost black cherries and silvery eucalyptus leaves. And a small succulent rose in a tiny pot. Attached to it was a note written in a sweeping, slightly careless handwriting: "This flower is as resilient as my desire to be with you. Don't forget to water it once a week. You can 'water' me with attention more often."
On Wednesday, Qiu found a professional set of pencils of varying softness and a funny eraser in the shape of a cat's paw in his locker.
Poems became the final chord. Every morning, Dingjie unfolded thick notes. There were lines that made his chest ache sweetly:
"Your steps in the corridor are the only sound I wait for. Architecture builds structures, but with a single glance, you rebuilt my universe."
The end of November brought a piercing, icy wind. The sky over the campus turned leaden, and the first layer of ice crunched underfoot. But for Dingjie, this time was the warmest.
Every day, as soon as the last class ended, a tall figure in a black coat stood frozen near the university gates. Huang Xing stood leaning casually against the iron fence, hiding his face in his high collar. But as soon as Dingjie's fair head appeared in the crowd, his eyes warmed.
"Dressed lightly again, little angel," he said softly, with mock sternness, intercepting the guy halfway.
Before Dingjie could answer, Xing would unwind a long, bulky wool scarf from his own neck that smelled like him, and carefully wrap it around the guy multiple times right up to his nose. Dingjie buried his face in the warm fabric, hiding his flushed cheeks.
"I have a warm jacket, Xing Xing..." he muttered muffledly from under the scarf.
"Yeah, I see." He intercepted Dingjie's icy palms with his own and began rubbing the other's fingers vigorously, warming them with his breath, then intertwined them and decisively hid their joined hands deep inside his coat pocket.
It was so warm inside the pocket, and the feeling of someone else's strong hand gave such a sense of security that Dingjie felt dizzy. With every step along the falling-asleep autumn alley, he realized: he was falling in love. Hopelessly and deeply.
The final break occurred on Thursday. Qiu Dingjie, instead of going to his usual table by the window where his classmates were waiting, timidly turned deep into the hall. There, at a far table, sat Huang Xing alone.
When Dingjie sat across from him, Xing burst into a smile, while at the other end of the cafeteria, a collective, disappointed sigh was heard from Dingjie’s now-former friends. They demonstratively turned away. It hurt Qiu, but as soon as Xing started talking, the entire outside world ceased to exist.
"I got you soup and chicken. You like that, right?" Xing was already taking full charge.
"How do you..." Dingjie blinked in surprise.
"I know everything about you," he winked, and pulling out a wet wipe, took Dingjie's hands and began to carefully wipe his palms, finger by finger. "Hands should be clean before eating."
Throughout lunch, Huang Xing couldn't take his eyes off him. When Dingjie managed to drop sauce on the corner of his lip, he reached across the table without hesitation. His thumb softly, with barely perceptible pressure, wiped the drop from the delicate skin.
"So grown up, yet you eat like a child," he said softly, with unbelievable tenderness, making Dingjie blush to the tips of his ears. "If you eat so deliciously, I'm going to eat you up myself."
"A-Xing! Stop flirting, people are looking at us..." squeaked Dingjie, burying his gaze in his plate.
"Let them look. Let them envy how handsome my angel is."
Evening fell over the city in blue dusk. Streetlights glowed, reflecting in puddles covered with a thin crust of ice. Huang Xing, as usual, walked Dingjie all the way to his entrance, their hands still intertwined inside the jacket pocket.
They stopped at the door of the building. It was time to say goodbye, but Xing wouldn't let go of his hand. He turned to face Dingjie, blocking him from the cold wind with his body, and looked straight into his eyes.
"Qiu Qiu, I've never been so happy. All the time spent with you has been the absolute best. I know your friends are against it, but for you, I'll do anything. Only for you."
Huang Xing squeezed his palm tighter.
"Qiu Dingjie... can I become your boyfriend? Officially. So that I can kiss you not just in my mind."
Dingjie's heart stopped, then broke into a sprint, pounding a frantic rhythm inside his chest. It felt as though the ground was slipping from under his feet.
"You dummy, of course," Dingjie exhaled barely audibly, but firmly. "Yes, A-Xing."
Huang Xing's eyes widened with delight, and he leaned forward, but Dingjie, seized by a sudden impulse of sharp, burning shyness, beat him to it. He raised his head, squeezed his eyes shut, and quickly, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, pecked Xing on his wind-chilled cheek.
"See you tomorrow!" squeaked Dingjie.
Yanking his hand away, he flew up the steps like a bullet, pressed his magnetic key to the entrance door with trembling fingers, and disappeared inside, slamming the door behind him.
Dingjie stood in the dark building hallway, his back pressed against the closed door. His heart was pounding somewhere near his throat, his cheeks burning as if he had been scorched. He pressed his palms to his face, feeling his lips spread into a silly, completely happy smile all on their own. An unbelievable, sparkling feeling of freedom and warmth washed over him from within. He was the boyfriend of Huang Xing, the most incredible guy in the world.
And outside, on the porch, Xing remained standing. He pressed his palm to the very cheek that his angel's lips had just touched. A wild, stunned, and infinitely happy smile slowly bloomed across his face. Right now, he felt as if he had conquered the entire world. He looked up at the glowing windows on the floors above, took a deep breath of the frosty air, and laughed softly from the overwhelming delight overflowing inside him.
His angel now belonged to him, and he would do everything to ensure this angel would never regret his "yes."
December brought with it not only biting blizzards, but also a completely new reality for the whole university. Morning now invariably began according to one script. At the gates of the small residential complex where Dingjie lived, Xing stood at exactly 7:45, and when Qiu rolled out of the entrance door like a downy ball, he was already running to meet his angel. They walked to the university arm in arm, paying no attention to the snow falling in large flakes. Xing would take Dingjie's bag, slinging the strap over his own shoulder.
The appearance of this couple in the campus hallways produced the effect of a exploding bomb. Students froze with their mouths open, turned around, and whispered. Girls who had unsuccessfully tried to catch Xing's attention for months, and guys who dreamed of at least one favorable glance from him, were practically dripping with venom.
"What did Huang Xing find in this bland straight-A student?" Dingjie read in others' eyes. A wave of envy and quiet hatred grew with each passing day.
The crowd of rejected suitors eventually decided to vent their displeasure. It happened in a far restroom during a long break. Dingjie was standing by the sink, washing embedded pencil graphite from his fingers, when the door slammed shut sharply, and three third-year economics students, longtime "admirers" of Huang Xing who were used to getting whatever they wanted, stood at the entrance.
"Hey, cutie," sneered a tall guy with dyed ash-blond hair, taking a step forward and looming over Dingjie. "Haven't you flown a bit too high? Think you grab the chance?
Dingjie didn't even flinch. He calmly tore off a paper towel and unhurriedly began drying his hands, studying the uninvited guests carefully.
"Huang Xing will play with you and toss you out just like all the rest. So we advise you to vanish from his life yourself before you get thrown a real rough time this semester. We're disgusted seeing you next to him," added the second one, taking a threatening step forward.
Those who considered him a defenseless lamb were deeply mistaken. In love, Qiu Dingjie turned out to be an absolute, uncompromising possessor. What belonged to him was defended with the ferocity of a wild beast, even if hidden behind an angelic appearance.
He threw the paper towel into the trash can, turned to face the guys, and tilted his head slightly to the side. His gaze, usually warm and radiant, became icy and piercing, at that moment, he looked strikingly similar to his boyfriend.
"Are you done?" Dingjie asked in a calm voice. "First, Huang Xing is not an object to be 'caught.' Second, if he wanted to be with any of you, he would be, but he chose me."
Dingjie took a step forward, making the ash-blond guy step back half a step in surprise.
"And third... If you ever stand in my way again or dare to squeak a word, you'll regret it. Now let me pass."
Dingjie calmly walked past them, bumping one of them with his shoulder, and went out into the hallway, where a worried Huang Xing was already waiting for him.
"Is everything okay, sunshine? What took so long?" he immediately pulled him close by his waist.
"Everything's great, A-Xing," Dingjie smiled softly, his face becoming gentle and carefree once again. "I just ran into some people who are very envious of my happiness."
They celebrated Christmas together. The city was drowning in garlands, and the small coffee shop where they reserved a table smelled of pine needles and gingerbread. It was an evening when they literally showered each other with gifts, as if competing over whose love was deeper.
Qiu Dingjie prepared an album for Huang Xing. It wasn't just a sketchbook, he had hand-drawn a whole graphic novel of their story: from their first accidental meeting in the corridor to the kiss by the entrance. Every page was soaked in details. When Xing flipped through the thick sheets, his fingers trembled noticeably.
"You... drew this for me?" he whispered, his eyes shining suspiciously. "Nobody has ever done anything like this for me, baby."
In return, he buried his boyfriend in boxes. Inside was a professional graphic tablet that Qiu could only dream of, a soft cashmere sweater the color of a latte, and matching silver rings.
"I want everyone to know that you're taken. By me," he whispered, kissing Dingjie on the crown of his head while the guy enthusiastically examined the ring on his ring finger.
On New Year's Eve, while a blizzard swirled outside the window and a program played softly on the TV, Xing locked the door to his apartment. It was spacious, bathed in the soft glow of neon signs outside the window. They were sitting on a huge sofa, Dingjie was nestled comfortably against his boyfriend's chest, listening to the steady, soothing beat of his heart. Xing ran his fingers through his angel's hair, then gently lifted him by the chin, forcing him to look at him.
"Baby, this apartment... it's too big for me alone. It's empty and cold here, but when you come over, it comes alive. I want to see your clothes in my closet, I want your mugs standing on my kitchen counter. I want to wake up and see you snuffling on the pillow next to me first thing."
He pulled a set of keys from his pocket with a keychain in the shape of a tiny wing. "Move in with me. Become a part of my life not for a couple of hours after classes, but forever."
Qiu's breath hitched, because right before him was a man who had learned to cook for his sake, who had quit smoking because Dingjie didn't like the smell of tobacco, and who proved his devotion every single second.
Who said people don't change for others? They do. When they find something more precious than their own pride. Qiu Dingjie became not just a boyfriend for Huang Xing, he became the meaning of his life, his personal sun that dispelled the eternal darkness in his soul.
"I agree, A-Xing," whispered Dingjie, taking the keys. "I'll move in with you."
Huang Xing wrapped his arms tightly around his little angel, burying his nose in his neck. His dream had come true, he had found his salvation.
Love doesn't destroy who we were, it gently reconstructs our reality, turning cold ruins into a warm home for the one we hold dear.
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Qiu Dingjie's move converted Huang Xing's spacious but previously lifeless apartment into a true, living work of art. The days of their life together flowed like lazy, sweet syrup filled with the aroma of morning coffee. Dingjie truly brought colors with him: flower pots appeared on the windowsills, bright posters on the walls, and a cozy atmosphere settled in the air. But their dates became a true revelation for both, turning into a whole series of little rituals.
On Saturday, they went to a shopping mall to completely update their wardrobe. Huang Xing, accustomed to black hoodies, leather jackets, and monochrome tones, allowed Dingjie to drag him into fitting rooms with the soft submissiveness of a mannequin.
"A-Xing, try this on!" Dingjie handed him a bulky, soft sweater of a delicate lilac color, his eyes shining.
When he stepped out from behind the curtain, Dingjie froze, pressing his palms to his cheeks. His boyfriend in this sweater looked unbelievably cozy, homey, and mind-bogglingly handsome.
"Well? How is it?" he shifted his shoulders awkwardly, unaccustomed to such colors. "I feel like I look like a plush toy."
"You're gorgeous!" the guy ran up to him to adjust his collar. "Now we're obligated to buy this. And... look what I found."
Dingjie secretively pulled out an identical sweater from behind his back, but with a different print. It was on that day that they discovered their irresistible pull toward matching items. It became their shared secret fetish.
They returned from the shopping mall laden with bags. Now they had matching everything. Matching oversized hoodies with embroidered half-hearts on the sleeves that joined together when they held hands. Matching minimalistic bags and funny fluffy keychains in the shape of a yellow star and an orange leaf.
Under their smartphone cases, they placed photo strips from a photo booth. In those photos, Xing was frowning at first, then Dingjie bit his cheek, and in the last frame, they merged in a desperately sweet kiss.
Additionally, alongside the silver rings, matching bracelets made of black and white beads now adorned their wrists.
While on the street they looked like a picture-perfect magazine couple, at home Huang Xing regularly found himself on the verge of a mental breakdown. The reason for this was Qiu Dingjie's habit of wearing his lounge clothes.
One evening, Xing was sitting at his laptop checking a project when Dingjie walked out of the bathroom. He was wearing Xing's huge dark-blue t-shirt, which reached almost to his thighs, hiding his house shorts. The wide collar had slid off one shoulder, exposing a delicate collarbone and fair skin, while his damp hair curled slightly after the shower.
Huang Xing turned his head, glanced at his little angel, and froze. A short circuit sound literally rang in his head. Blood rushed sharply to his face, and he frantically pressed his palm to his nose, checking if it was literally bleeding.
"A-Xing? Is something wrong?" Dingjie blinked his eyelashes innocently, sitting right on his lap and wrapping his arms around his neck. The guy smelled of peach shower gel.
"Baby..." his voice dropped to a raspy whisper. He wrapped his arms around the guy's waist underneath the t-shirt, feeling his hot skin. "You're doing this on purpose. You know how you affect me, don't you?"
"I just like smelling like you," purred Dingjie, burying his nose in his collarbone, completely unaware, or, on the contrary, perfectly aware, that his boyfriend was currently holding on with his last bit of strength not to go insane from tenderness and desire.
Even Dingjie's university friends, seeing how the guy had bloomed, how his eyes shone, and what care surrounded him, finally replaced their anger with mercy. They were genuinely happy for him, realizing that Huang Xing had truly changed.
However, not everyone knew when to keep their mouth shut. One day, while his little angel was delayed in the classroom, Xing waited for him in the courtyard, chatting with his former buddies he used to hang out with in clubs.
"Listen, Xing," sneered one of them casually, a guy named Kang, taking a drag from his cigarette. "We keep seeing that boy of yours. Cute, can't argue with that, but did you really tie up your freedom for him? How about lending your Qiu to us for one evening? Purely for fun, to remember old times. We'll be gentle, promise."
The others burst into a dirty laugh, but the laughter cut off instantly, turning into a suffocating gasp. Huang Xing didn't utter a word, his face turned into a mask of absolute, primal rage in a second. Such a furious fire ignited in his eyes that Kang didn't even have time to register anything.
Crunch
A powerful right hook landed squarely on Kang's bridge of the nose. The guy flew onto the asphalt, covering the ground with blood. The second one tried to rush at Xing, but Xing, driven by the blind fury of a protector, intercepted his strike, slammed his head against the iron railing full force, and finished him off with a short blow to the eyebrow.
Huang Xing obliterated anyone who dared even mentally desecrate his angel. When frightened bystanders pulled them apart a couple of minutes later, the offenders had broken noses and split eyebrows, cursing and swearing at him across the whole yard.
After that, silence reigned in their apartment. Xing sat on the edge of the bathtub, his head lowered. The knuckles of his right fist were bruised and bloody, the skin swollen and blue. He was expecting a lecture. But Dingjie entered the bathroom with a first-aid kit, his face pale, yet completely calm. He sat on a low stool directly opposite him, took his damaged, heavy hand into his palms, and opened an antiseptic.
"Does it hurt?" Dingjie asked softly, dripping onto the wounds. The hissing foam turned pink.
"No," grunted Huang Xing without looking up. "I'm sorry, I promised not to get involved in shit. But they... they said such things about you..."
Qiu interrupted him, softly blowing on the burned knuckles. Then he took a cotton pad, gently wiped away the remaining blood, and began applying healing ointment. Every single one of his movements was filled with boundless, tender love.
"I don't feel sorry for them, A-Xing," Qiu suddenly said muffledly. "Just don't do that again."
"I promise, sunshine. I promise."
Qiu Dingjie carefully tied a clean white bandage over his palm, and then imprinted a weightless, healing kiss right on top of the bandage.
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Time didn't stand still. The last frosty days receded under the onset of timid March warmth, and the harsh winter smoothly, stroke by stroke, gave way to a luxurious, blooming spring. On the city streets, dispelling the gray haze, lush sakura trees burst into bloom, scattering delicate pink petals across the sidewalks. The air filled with the sweet scent of awakening nature and that special spring sun that made one squint with pleasure.
The lives of Huang Xing and Qiu Dingjie flowed steadily, like a beautiful, calm river. Their daily routine was established, and their feelings grew stronger, becoming deeper and more conscious. Every new spring morning brought with it a sense of absolute, unwavering happiness.
With the arrival of the warmth, their dates moved to the cozy alleys of city parks. Now they could wander for hours among the greening trees. Dingjie, armed with his camera, captured every moment.
"A-Xing, stop, don't move!"
In the frame, Huang Xing stood against the backdrop of blooming sakura. He was wearing a soft-blue sweater, a sunbeam rested gently on his sharply defined cheekbones, and a pink petal had fallen onto his shoulder.
Click
"Come here, my little photographer," he laughed softly, taking a step forward. He took the camera, hanging it around Dingjie's neck, and pulled the guy toward him by the waist.
"Come on, A-Xing, we're in the middle of the park..." Dingjie whispered shyly, though his fingers were already running through the hair at the back of Xing's head.
"So what? Let the whole world watch," he smirked slyly and, seizing the moment, pulled his little angel into a deep, sweet kiss. They always tried to steal an extra kiss, whether at an intersection, in line for a latte, or right in front of touched passersby.
And on weekends, they would head to the cinema. Always buying tickets for the very back row, where the "kissing seats" were, they honestly tried to watch the movie. But usually, by the twentieth minute of the film, they completely forgot what the plot was about. Dingjie rested his head on his boyfriend's broad shoulder, their fingers with matching rings intertwined, and the popcorn remained untouched because they were too busy with each other, whispering about everything in the world and brushing lips in the half-light of the theater.
An important step this spring was meeting the parents. For the long weekend, they went on a small trip through their hometowns. Dingjie's anxiety was off the charts, he was terrified that Xing's strict parents wouldn't accept him.
But reality turned out to be incredibly warm. Qiu's family, seeing how Huang Xing practically doted on their son, looked into his eyes, and cared for every little detail, melted on the very first evening. And when they arrived at Xing's parents' house, a surprise awaited Dingjie.
Xing's mother, an cultured woman with a soft smile, gently took Dingjie's hand at dinner and, with genuine bewilderment in her voice, asked softly:
"Dingjie, dear... Explain to me how a kind little angel like you found something good in our strange, stubborn son? He used to walk around like a log, you couldn't pull a word out of him! But with you... his eyes light up. Thank you for warming him up."
Huang Xing, sitting nearby, merely rolled his eyes in mock exasperation and wrapped an arm around Dingjie's shoulders, hiding a bashful smile. Both families didn't just accept them, they unconditionally approved of the union and were now competing to invite the guys over for the entire summer as soon as they passed their exams.
Recently, Dingjie accidentally discovered a new side to his boyfriend. One warm spring evening, while finishing a scale model of a building in the room, a quiet, velvety, unbelievably deep voice drifted in from the kitchen. His A-Xing was preparing dinner and humming a beautiful love ballad softly under his breath. He froze with the utility knife in hand. That voice... it enveloped him, penetrated beneath his skin, and made his heart flutter.
"A talent like this shouldn't be hidden from the world!" flashed through his mind instantly.
Being very decisive, Dingjie secretly went to the student council the very next day and wrote his boyfriend's name into the list of participants for the university's grand Spring Music Festival, which was scheduled to take place in exactly one month. When he found out about it, Xing grumbled for a long time, promising to "punish" his little angel, but upon meeting Dingjie's pleading, shining gaze, he naturally gave in. For that look, he was ready to sing in a stadium if needed.
At home, music became their constant companion. As soon as the evening sun slipped below the horizon, painting the room in gentle lilac tones, Huang Xing would turn on a slow, gentle melody on the speaker. He would walk up to Dingjie, take away his pencils, and pull him to the center of the room.
"A-Xing, I don't know how to dance!"
"We don't need to know how. Just trust me," he whispered.
They twirled in the middle of the soft-light-flooded apartment. Qiu threw his head back, his clear, ringing laughter filling the space when Huang suddenly scooped him up under his thighs and spun him in the air, forcing the guy to cling tightly to his shoulders. In those moments, the spring wind from the slightly open window stirred the light curtains, the flowers on the windowsill trembled quietly, and the whole world narrowed down to the size of this room, where two completely happy people lived.
"They say that spring is the time when nature comes alive. But in reality, spring is the time when the human soul, long imprisoned beneath thick winter ice, finally sheds its chains. Happiness isn't about finding a perfect world, it's about twirling in a dance in the middle of a cozy room with the one who became your personal spring."
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May drew to a close, giving way to the first truly hot June sun, and with it, the university was engulfed in the fever of preparations for the main event of the year – the Spring Music Festival. For Qiu Dingjie, this month turned into a series of the purest, most concentrated moments of happiness.
Every evening after exhausting classes, he didn't run home, instead, he slipped into the empty auditorium. Sitting on the squeaky wooden seats in the tenth row, in the half-darkness, and watching his boyfriend rehearse on stage, this became his new, absolute favorite addiction. Huang Xing looked incredible in the spotlight, he intently picked at the guitar strings, knitted his brows when he made a mistake, and brushed back the bangs falling over his eyes. But as soon as he noticed the top of his little angel's head in the darkness of the hall, a barely noticeable smile meant for only one person swept across his lips.
However, Dingjie had no idea that while he was admiring his boyfriend, the latter had started a real scheme. Besides the officially approved track, Xing stayed up late into the night, writing his own lyrics while Qiu was already fast asleep beside him, nose buried in his shoulder. He was creating a confession song, a song of gratitude to his personal angel. And this was meant to be the main secret of the departing spring.
Finally, the day arrived. The university auditorium resembled a buzzing beehive, there wasn't a single free seat, and students were even standing in the aisles. Classmates, professors, crowds of enthusiastic freshmen girls, everyone was waiting for the appearance of the legendary "cold ice," who for the first time in his entire time at university had agreed to take the stage.
Qiu Dingjie sat right in the center of the first row. The heart in his chest was pounding so hard it felt as if he were the one about to perform. He had dressed specially for this evening: he wore an elegant, perfectly tailored suit in a soft graphite shade that emphasized his slender figure, and from beneath the cuff of his white shirt, their matching bracelet gleamed. Dingjie's fingers nervously fidgeted with the round beads, he was insanely anxious.
The lights in the hall slowly dimmed, and the noise died down. A welcoming roar erupted as Huang Xing stepped onto the stage, flooded in deep blue and muted gold spotlights.
Dingjie almost forgot how to breathe. Xing's look was flawless. He wore fitted black classic trousers that perfectly highlighted the length of his legs, and a snow-white shirt with the top buttons casually undone, exposing his neck. Over the shirt, Xing had thrown on a cropped black vest, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his arms. Today he looked like a noble, dangerous prince from a drama. On his wrist, their matching bracelet also gleamed, and the ring sparkled on his finger.
Xing approached the microphone, took his guitar, and cast a short, piercing glance into the first row, right at his little angel. His voice, deep, with his signature raspy note, made half the audience hold their breath. Dingjie looked at him, and everything inside him sang with pride: "That's my boyfriend. That incredible person belongs to me."
When the deafening applause faded after the first performance, the backing musicians didn't leave. On the contrary, the stage lighting shifted to a warm amber shade. Huang Xing adjusted the microphone stand slightly, set aside the guitar, and sat on a tall bar stool.
The first, completely unfamiliar chords to Dingjie drifted through the hall, a soft, lingering sound of a piano mixed with an acoustic guitar. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, this hadn't been in the rehearsal program.
Xing brought the microphone to his lips. His gaze locked tightly onto Dingjie's face. He sang looking only at him, ignoring the hundreds of other people in the hall:
"You walked into my ruined, locked home,
Where only walls smoldered in cold shame.
You weren't afraid of my dark corners,
Brought a drop of light from gentle words.
My dear angel,
You erased my rage, dispelled my fear.
And if the whole world suddenly turns against us,
I will choose the light of your sincere eyes..."
Xing's voice sounded so soulful that goosebumps ran across Dingjie's skin, and hot tears of happiness instantly welled up in his eyes. By the end of the song, the hall plunged into an absolute, reverent silence, spellbound by this raw, honest avalanche of feelings.
The final chord dissolved into the air. Huang wasn't in a hurry to leave, he took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on the tearful yet glowing Dingjie in the first row, and spoke softly into the microphone:
"This song... wasn't in the plans. I wrote it for a person who is sitting in this hall right now. You know, I used to think that solitude was my armor. But one small, stubborn angel proved to me that true strength is having someone worth coming home to. Thank you. For being who you are, for choosing me."
The hall literally exploded. Students whistled, cheered, and applauded, looking around in an attempt to understand who this magnificent serenade was dedicated to. No name had been mentioned, but Dingjie's close friends sitting a short distance away turned to him in unison, smiling broadly. Everything was clear without a word.
Qiu didn't remember how the concert ended. As soon as the main lights came on stage, he bolted from his seat. Ignoring the crowd, squeezing through the throngs of students, he ran down the long corridor backstage, driven by a single desire, to be next to his boyfriend.
He pushed open the heavy door to the dressing room. Huang Xing was there alone, he had just removed his microphone and sank exhaustedly onto the leather sofa, catching his breath.
"A-Xing!" shouted Dingjie breathlessly from the doorway.
Xing only had time to stand up and open his arms before the guy literally flew into him at full speed. He jumped on him, wrapping his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist. From the momentum, Xing couldn't keep his balance, and they both fell back onto the soft sofa with a dull thud, sinking into the cushions.
Dingjie didn't give a damn about his suit, which was now ruthlessly wrinkled. He pressed his whole body against Xing, feeling how wildly his boyfriend's heart was pounding beneath the white shirt.
"God, sweetheart... I loved it so much! It was incredible!" Dingjie spoke fast and disjointedly, his eyes still shining with tears.
He began showering his boyfriend's entire face with quick, warm kisses: pecked his forehead, the once-split eyebrow, his hot cheeks, the tip of his nose.
"I love you so much! More than anyone in the world!" whispered Dingjie, finally pressing his lips against Xing's in a deep, desperate kiss, pouring all his tenderness into it.
Huang Xing wrapped his arms tightly around his little angel's waist, tight enough to crack ribs, responding to the kiss with a mutual passion that had built up over the evening. He flipped them so that Dingjie ended up beneath him and buried his face in his neck, inhaling his familiar scent deeply. The happiest smile in the world lingered on his lips.
"I know, baby," Xing rasped quietly, kissing the soft skin on the guy's neck. "I love you too, and I'll do everything so you say this to me every single day of our lives."
"The most beautiful music isn't born in studios or by the rules of sheet music. It sounds when one person decides to open their wounded heart to another, knowing they won't be hurt in return. Love is a song that cannot be sung alone."
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They say there are five love languages. Some write poetry, translating feelings into words, others give expensive gifts, trying to materialize the intangible. But for Huang Xing, all this bookish philosophy used to seem like nonsense. Until Qiu Dingjie appeared in his life.
His major taught resource optimization, finding the shortest paths, and minimizing losses, but when it came to Dingjie, Xing understood: love is the most illogical, energy-consuming, and at the same time the most precise calculation in the world. Over two years of living together, they had built their own language. Without unnecessary drama. A language consisting of timely served hot tea, vitamins left on the nightstand, and quiet kisses on the crown of the head before sleep.
Now, on the threshold of graduation, when final exams and thesis defenses weighed on their shoulders like a concrete slab, this language became their ultimate salvation.
Huang Xing managed to catch a cold at the most inconvenient moment. Sleepless nights and overall stress had taken their toll. Sitting in the back row of a lecture hall, he coughed softly into his fist, trying to focus on the professor's monotonous voice. His head was pounding, and figures floated before his eyes.
No sooner was a break announced than the lecture hall door opened slightly. His Dingjie appeared on the threshold. In his cute hoodie, with his hair messy after classes, he looked like a ruffled little bird. In his hands, he carefully held a thermal mug and a small rustling bag.
Xing's classmates immediately perked up and smiled. Over two years, they had grown accustomed to these visits.
"Oh, hey, Qiu! Come to save our ice prince again?" someone shouted from the front row.
Dingjie smiled softly, nodding to the guys, and walked quickly to the back rows where his boyfriend sat alone.
"And why did you come? You have a midterm exam coming up yourself," Xing grumbled softly in a voice raspy from his cold, though inside, everything turned over with tenderness.
"Shut up and drink," Dingjie answered sweetly but firmly, sitting in the neighboring seat. He unscrewed the lid of the thermal mug, from which the aroma of ginger and lemon immediately wafted. "And the pill, you were supposed to take it fifteen minutes ago."
Xing obediently took the offered capsule, washed it down with hot tea, and grimaced. "Bitter."
"I know," Dingjie squinted slyly and looked around. Xing's classmates demonstratively turned away, pretending to be absorbed in their phones, though everyone knew perfectly well what would happen next.
He leaned forward, gently took Xing by the chin, and kissed his dry lips softly yet noticeably. A brief, warm touch that left the sweet taste of lemon tea on his lips.
"That's a reward for being obedient," he whispered, pulling back with the tips of his ears blushing slightly.
"Not enough," grumbled Xing, but a faint, barely visible smile appeared on his lips for the first time all day.
Mutual visits were the norm for them. Huang Xing could just as easily come to his little angel's faculty, bring him coffee, and sit silently nearby while he finished his drawings, gently tucking stray hair behind his ear and softly kissing his forehead.
However, while at the architecture faculty people were wary of him due to his "don't come near or I'll kill you" aura, the sweet and approachable Dingjie was well-liked by many guys in logistics. In the beginning, a few fools had mistaken his kindness for weakness.
Huang Xing remembered an incident from a year ago when he was delayed in a department office while Dingjie waited for him in the corridor. A pair of idiots decided to hit on the cute architect. They hovered around, dropping sleazy jokes along the lines of: "Come with us, we'll show you what real fun is."
Dingjie had only politely declined, saying he had a boyfriend, trying to walk away from the conversation. But then Huang Xing stepped out from around the corner. Hearing the last phrase, he didn't waste words. One of the jokers simply received a precise, heavy kick from a sneaker straight to the stomach. The guy bent double with a groan, gasping for air.
"If I ever see you near my boyfriend again, I'll break your ribs. Get out of here," Xing had dropped in an icy tone back then.
Since then, everyone permanently lost the desire to flirt with Dingjie. Now the guys spoke to him exclusively with respect, knowing full well that behind this "little angel" stood a real, insanely jealous, and dangerous predator.
In the evening, when the pre-exam chaos died down, they returned to their apartment. Xing lay on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. From the kitchen came the pleasant thud of a knife against a cutting board and the quiet simmering of broth. Dingjie was making his favorite soup.
Twenty minutes later, Qiu walked into the room carrying a tray. Steaming on it was a bowl of homemade food. "Come on, sit up," commanded Dingjie, sitting on the edge of the sofa.
"I can eat by myself, baby. I just have a cold, I'm not on my deathbed," Xing chuckled softly.
"You're a dummy, Huang Xing," he sighed without offense, but handed the spoon over to his boyfriend. He settled down beside him, resting his head on Xing's shoulder despite the risk of catching the cold.
Xing ate slowly, feeling warmth spread through his body. With his free hand, he ran his fingers through his lover's soft hair. Dim light reigned in the room, broken only by the desk lamp under which lay Dingjie's scattered notebooks and printouts of Xing's lectures. Their lives had intertwined just like those papers on the desk.
"You know..." Xing spoke softly, looking at their intertwined fingers. "They told us about communication theory in class today. About how important it is to transmit information correctly to avoid distortion."
Dingjie raised his head, looking into the dark eyes opposite his. "Where are you going with this?"
"To the fact that my love language seems very limited. I don't know how to speak beautifully like those guys who are always hovering around you. I only know how to calculate risks and remove everything from your path that could harm you. Well... or eliminate them."
Dingjie laughed softly and musically. He reached up and gently kissed Xing on his cheek, hot from the fever.
"Silly," whispered Dingjie, pressing closer. "Your love language is the clearest in the world. We were taught that the most important thing in building any structure is the foundation. A beautiful facade can be drawn in a couple of hours, but without a solid base, everything will collapse at the first storm. Your care, your reliability, that's my foundation. I need you, dear."
Huang Xing didn't answer. Besides, why were words needed? He simply held his little angel tighter, burying his nose in the top of his head. Heavy exams, graduation, and an adult, unknown life lay ahead. But looking at how confidently and peacefully Dingjie fell asleep on his chest, Xing knew: their shared architecture of love could withstand any load.
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A two-day separation might sound laughable to ordinary people, but for Huang Xing and Qiu Dingjie, who had literally fused into a single whole over two years, it felt like an exquisite form of torture.
Dingjie had finished his exams early and was already planning how to spend his time. Initially, the plan was to finally catch up on sleep and bring coffee in bed to an exhausted Xing. However, an early phone call from his parents shuffled all the cards. They urgently needed help at their country house with remodeling the terrace, and he simply couldn't refuse them.
"I'm coming too," Xing stated gloomily, pulling on a t-shirt. Shadows of chronic sleep deprivation lay beneath his eyes. "I miss your mom, and your dad needs help with heavy lifting."
"A-Xing, tomorrow at nine in the morning you have your toughest exam in commercial law," Dingjie gently reminded him, catching him around the waist and burying his nose in his shoulder blades. "You can't miss it. I'll go and help them, and in two days, once you pass everything, you'll come pick me up. Deal, dear?"
The goodbye at the building entrance dragged on for about twenty minutes. The taxi had arrived, the driver had already coughed into his fist three times, and Huang Xing still wouldn't let go of his boyfriend. He held Dingjie as if he were being drafted into the army or sent to another planet, burying his nose in his fluffy hair.
"Text me. Message me as soon as you arrive. Call me on video chat tonight," Xing grumbled into the top of his little angel's head. "If your father makes you carry bricks, don't you dare, you have a bad back. I'll come and carry everything myself."
"Alright, Mr. Huang, I understand everything," Dingjie laughed softly, trying to pull away, but he was held even tighter. "Come on, let me go, the driver is already looking at us like we're crazy. Two days, A-Xing. Just two days."
If only Dingjie had known back then that his "cold and calculating" boyfriend would completely lose his mind without him.
The night in his parents' country house was quiet and peaceful, right up until half past one in the morning. Qiu was sleeping like a log when the silence of the village was ruthlessly shattered by the roar of a motorcycle engine. The bike cut out right at the gate, and a minute later, a drunk, boisterous, and agonizingly familiar voice echoed through the neighborhood: "Ba-a-aby! Ding-jieee, my looove! Open up! I missed youuu!"
Dingjie bolted upright in bed, his heart dropping into his boots. "What was that?" flashed through his mind.
There was a soft but persistent knock at his room door. On the threshold stood Dingjie's mother in a robe, her eyes wide with surprise, while his father frowned behind her with a flashlight in hand.
"Son," his mother whispered, "out by the gate, there's some... ahem, very loud young man shouting that he misses you. Your father wanted to go out with a shotgun, but I think that might be our A-Xing."
"Oh, Lord..." Dingjie covered his face with his hands. "I'll be right there!"
Dingjie scrambled down the stairs, putting on a jacket on the go. Rushing out onto the porch, he was met with a magnificent sight: leaning slightly against the fence, his fingers clutching the iron bars of the gate, stood his foolish boyfriend. His helmet lay on the ground, his jacket was unzipped, and a thoroughly happy, silly smile lingered on his face.
"My little angel!" Xing roared joyfully upon seeing him. "You're here! And I passed the exam! Passed with flying colors! And without you, the apartment is so empty, it's totally awful, I..."
"Be quiet, you monster! You'll wake up the neighbors!" Dingjie hissed, frantically unlocking the gate.
He grabbed Huang Xing by the hand and literally dragged him into the yard. The guy reeked unmistakably of alcohol.
"Have you lost your mind? Did you drive a bike here drunk?!" Dingjie was ready to strangle him, yet at the same time, everything inside him squeezed with wild relief that he was safe.
"I'm not drunk, I'm just missing you," Xing declared proudly, though he wobbled noticeably toward a rose bush. "Okay, I drank a little bit after the exam, but I drove slowly! Honest! The route was calculated optimally..."
His parents walked out of the house. Assessing the scale of the disaster, Dingjie's father merely chuckled and shook his head. "Alright, Mr. 'Optimal.' March inside before someone calls the police. We'll bring you some water."
Dingjie could barely haul this heavy treasure up to his second-floor bedroom. Reaching the bed, Xing simply collapsed onto it fully clothed, spreading his arms wide.
"So nice... It smells like you," he muttered, burying his face in the blanket.
Dingjie sighed, locked the door latch, and walked over to the bed. It was utterly impossible to stay mad at this guy. He sat down beside him and began stripping off Xing's clothes.
"Now what am I supposed to do with you, huh? What if the police caught you? What if you lost control of the bike?"
"I'm a professional, baby," Xing responded without opening his eyes. "I couldn't crash. My body automatically gravitated toward your center of gravity."
Dingjie snorted as he took off his jacket: "Wow, look at those metaphors. Did the alcohol awaken a poet in you?"
"The alcohol awakened the realization that without you, our apartment is just a concrete box with furniture," Xing snapped his eyes open, grabbed Dingjie by the wrist, and pulled him down.
Qiu gasped, losing his balance, and fell straight onto his boyfriend's chest. Xing instantly wrapped his arms and legs around him, locking down any attempt to escape. He buried his nose in Dingjie's neck, inhaling his familiar scent deeply.
"Hey, let go, you smell like alcohol," Dingjie grumbled harmlessly, though he was already relaxing in the embrace.
"Won't let go. I existed without you for forty-eight hours. My resources are running low, immediate recharging required."
Dingjie pushed himself up on his elbows, looking into those drunk yet deeply loving eyes. He reached out, gently tracing Xing's cheekbone with his fingers, brushing the messy bangs off his forehead.
"You really are a dummy, Huang Xing. You could have just waited until morning."
"I couldn't," Xing replied seriously, and for a second, his previous sober, deep tone resurfaced in his voice. "I came home, passed that damn exam, sat on the sofa... and realized I don't give a damn about grades if I can't hold you right now and tell you how incredible you are."
Dingjie felt a warm wave of tenderness rush to his throat. He leaned down and slowly, deeply kissed his foolish boyfriend, pouring all his love into it. Xing responded greedily, holding him so close it felt as if he were trying to dissolve Dingjie into himself.
When they finally pulled apart to catch their breath, Xing purred contentedly, like a huge, satisfied cat.
"Alright, now we can sleep," he muttered, closing his eyes.
"Yeah, 'now we can sleep,'" Dingjie smiled, settling comfortably on his shoulder. "In the morning, you'll be explaining to my dad why you were screaming at the top of your lungs across the whole village. And by the way, you're going to be doing twice as much construction work now. To pay off your debts, so to speak."
"Agreed to any construction work..." Xing muttered sleepily, already drifting off. "As long as it's under your strict supervision... and with a reward afterward."
Dingjie laughed quietly, pulled the blanket over them both, and closed his eyes. Outside the window, the trees rustled, downstairs an old clock ticked softly, and beside him beat the steady, calm heart of the person who was willing to break any law of logic for his sake. And it was the perfect conclusion to their personal exam season.
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EPILOGUE
The roads we choose often turn out to be winding, full of sharp turns and blind spots. We spend years searching for meaning, building barricades out of logic and experience, trying to protect our hearts from potential wounds. But fate always has its own plans, and sometimes that entire complex architecture built over years collapses in a single moment.
What, then, is love at first sight?
It isn't just chemistry or blind attraction, despite what skeptics say. It is a moment of an absolute, deafening flash. When among billions of unfamiliar faces, your eyes suddenly meet someone else's, and a strange, incomparable warmth spreads inside you. In that second, time doesn't just slow down, it ceases to exist. You look at the person and understand without words: "There you are. I've been looking for you for so long."
It is a flash that rewrites your past in a second and defines your future. The soul, as if remembering something it never knew, instantly finds its harbor. And all doubts, fears, and past grievances dissolve in this pure, primal light. Love at first sight is the courage to trust an invisible thread that connects two people long before they even learn each other's names.
Our protagonists walked their path, full of trials and quiet moments, but that very first spark that ignited in a university corridor on a September day never went out. It became their compass, their main answer to all the questions of the universe. Because only the heart can see truly clearly.
"Love isn't chosen, nor is it sought for gain or reason. It simply happens, like the first ray of sun after a long winter, bringing back to life everything it touches.”
THE END
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