That night, a group of friends gathered at Chen Mo’s rental house—technically, Xi Siyan’s house—to cook a makeshift hot pot. Since Chen Mo had just moved in and didn’t have all the necessary equipment, they went to the supermarket downstairs, which was still open late, to buy a pot. To accommodate Chen Mo’s stomach issues, they even got a dual-flavored broth.
With the air conditioning on in the peak of summer, the room was filled with the rich aroma of hot pot steam, giving it a homely warmth.
“Should we have a drink?” Jiang Xu suggested, placing a dozen beers on the table with a loud thud.
Chen Mo raised an eyebrow and reminded them, “Are you sure? We have class tomorrow.”
“What’s there to be afraid of?” Bai Cheng jumped in. “If you haven’t climbed the school walls, been scolded, had your parents called, or written self-reflection essays, is your high school experience even complete?”
This childish declaration was met with cheers and enthusiastic agreement.
Chen Mo simply let it be.
Even Xi Siyan, who usually seemed strict, didn’t object. When Qi Lin placed two bottles of beer in front of him, he casually opened them and clinked glasses with the others.
Chen Mo, however, didn’t drink. Everyone knew about his stomach problems, so no one pressured him.
Seated to his left was Xi Siyan, while Lao Gou sat on his other side, constantly scooping yam from the clear broth into Chen Mo’s bowl, saying it was nutritious.
Chen Mo took one bite, frowned, and threw it into the trash.
Lao Gou, busy chatting, suddenly noticed and looked at him in shock. “Damn, are you dissing me?”
“It’s undercooked, idiot.” Chen Mo rolled his eyes.
The room burst into laughter.
With so many people, the conversation was endless, mostly filled with jokes. Then, someone suddenly brought up, “Brother Mo, we know you’ve been through a lot lately, and while we can’t help much, just know—if you ever need anything, we’ve got your back.”
Voices of agreement echoed all around.
Chen Mo, who had just finished eating a piece of pork rib that Xi Siyan had placed in his bowl, looked up.
Among all these people, Lao Gou was probably the one who knew him best. He knew Chen Mo’s real situation with the Yang family and understood that moving out wasn’t just about leaving school.
But that’s just how it is between boys sometimes. They don’t need to explain everything in words. They can fool around all day, but when something serious happens, just one word is enough for them to have your back, no questions asked.
Chen Mo smiled, set down his chopsticks, and stood up.
He picked up a glass.
Before he could say anything, Xi Siyan, leaning back in his chair as if already expecting it, reminded, “No more than half a cup.”
Chen Mo took his bottle and poured only a third into his glass.
This detail might have seemed strange if someone had thought about it, but in the current atmosphere, neither the person involved nor the others found it odd.
Holding his glass, Chen Mo said, “Since we’re friends, I won’t say too much. A simple ‘thank you’ feels too distant. I know we won’t have many chances to gather like this in the future—not only is Xi Siyan already admitted to university, but many of you are preparing for other competitions. My door is always open as long as I’m here. Lastly, I wish everyone a bright future and success in whatever path you choose.”
Some people pounded the table, others clinked their glasses.
“That was too formal!”
“Brother Mo, you just made everything feel so serious—I suddenly feel ashamed of myself.”
“Enough talk, just drink!”
“Cheers!”
The night was lively.
Later, Qi Lin even went downstairs to buy another dozen beers, leading to a house full of drunk people passed out in a mess by one in the morning, ruining the house Chen Mo had just cleaned that afternoon.
Lao Gou and the day students who usually went home had no choice but to stay overnight.
After cleaning up all the garbage and placing it outside, Chen Mo opened all the windows to clear the alcohol smell.
As he stepped out of the bathroom, he bumped into Xi Siyan, who had just come out of his room.
“Everyone asleep?” Chen Mo glanced inside and saw that at least five people were sprawled across the 1.8-meter bed in Xi Siyan’s room.
“Yeah,” Xi Siyan hummed.
Two more people were passed out on the living room sofa—Qi Lin and Jiang Xu.
Since Chen Mo’s room had been designed for younger residents, it was smaller than Xi Siyan’s and only had a small double bed.
Chen Mo gestured toward the sofa. “Should we move them?”
Xi Siyan glanced over and shook his head. “Leave them. If they take your bed, where will you sleep?”
“I don’t mind.” Chen Mo shrugged. “They’re guests, after all. It doesn’t feel right to let them sleep in the living room while I take a bed. Besides, you’re such a neat freak, but you let multiple people crash in your room?”
Xi Siyan shot him a glance but didn’t argue. Together, they moved the two people from the living room to the room.
Most of them were tall, strong boys who played basketball regularly. Though they looked lean, they were actually quite heavy—especially Qi Lin, who was completely knocked out.
After flopping onto the bed, Qi Lin hugged a pillow and muttered, “Wife…”
“You’re this bad after just a few beers?” Chen Mo stood by the bed, panting. He was about to pull his pillow back when he noticed Xi Siyan rubbing his temples with a slight frown. “Headache? You drank quite a bit too.”
“I’m fine,” Xi Siyan muttered, rolling his neck.
By three in the morning, Chen Mo and Xi Siyan had settled on opposite ends of the sofa in the living room.
Xi Siyan had turned off the lights, letting the lingering excitement of the night fade into the quiet of early morning.
The sofa was designed to seat four people, so its width was decent.
But for two grown boys, it was still a tight fit.
Chen Mo bent his knees, staring at the ceiling. The moonlight outside the window cast a soft glow, allowing him to see how Xi Siyan’s long legs were stretched out, barely fitting on the sofa.
“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Chen Mo asked.
“It’s only a few hours till dawn,” Xi Siyan replied quickly. Then he asked, “Can’t sleep?”
“Not really.”
There was a rustling sound.
Chen Mo looked over and saw that Xi Siyan had gotten up.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a low voice.
“I remember there’s a bamboo lounge chair on the balcony,” Xi Siyan said. “I’ll sleep there. You take the sofa and rest properly.”
“Hey!” Chen Mo immediately stood up and grabbed Xi Siyan’s wrist.
Kneeling on the sofa, he realized how awkward this position was, but he didn’t let go.
“The chair is too hard, and it hasn’t even been cleaned,” Chen Mo insisted. “Just stay here.”
Xi Siyan didn’t move.
Chen Mo could feel his gaze, though in the dim light, he couldn’t read his expression.
Seeing that Xi Siyan remained silent, Chen Mo had no choice but to continue, “I know we never fully clarified things that night, but you don’t have to tiptoe around my feelings. Xi Siyan, do you understand? I’m not a child—I don’t need you to take care of me all the time. In fact, when you said you wanted to try, I didn’t refuse right away because I was selfish. I was certain that you said you liked me for a reason, and I felt—”
“Then be more selfish,” Xi Siyan interrupted.
Chen Mo: “Ah?”
“I said.”
Xi Siyan suddenly reversed their grip, pulling Chen Mo down beside him on the sofa. He leaned in and whispered into Chen Mo’s ear, “Then be more selfish.”
A faint trace of alcohol lingered in his breath.
Instead of pulling away after speaking, he lowered his head and leaned against Chen Mo’s neck.
The strands of his hair, neither too soft nor too coarse, brushed against Chen Mo’s chin and ears, causing a light tickling sensation. Chen Mo wasn’t uncomfortable, but his entire body stiffened, unsure of how to react.
This time, he didn’t ask if Xi Siyan was drunk.
Instead, he asked, “Does your head still hurt?”
“Yeah,” came the soft reply.
Chen Mo had never seen this side of Xi Siyan before. He was used to seeing him composed and calm, even ruthless when needed. But he had never seen him like this—seeking comfort, vulnerable in his own way.
The last time he drank, he had kissed him out of nowhere.
Now, he simply leaned against him, subdued, almost fragile.
Chen Mo hesitated, then suggested, “Should I pour you some water?”
Xi Siyan shook his head.
“I have painkillers in my room,” Chen Mo tried again. “They work well.”
Still, he refused.
“You can’t just sit like this all night.”
“Chen Mo,” Xi Siyan finally moved, but not to sit up.
At the same time that his name slipped from Xi Siyan’s lips, Chen Mo felt something soft press against his neck. A slight sting followed—the sensation of teeth sinking in.
“Shit!” Chen Mo cursed, reaching up to grab a fistful of Xi Siyan’s hair. He pulled back slightly, tilting his head away, his brow furrowed. “What the hell are you doing?”
It took three or four seconds before Xi Siyan finally let go.
But instead of retreating, he tightened his grip on Chen Mo’s wrist, preventing him from pulling away. Their faces were now inches apart, so close that they could see every minute detail in each other’s eyes.
At that moment, Chen Mo felt deceived.
There was no sign of drunkenness in Xi Siyan’s gaze—his eyes were sharp, clear, and utterly devoid of any weakness. That fragile act of moments ago had completely vanished, leaving only an unshakable presence in its place.
“You…” Chen Mo started.
But before he could finish, Xi Siyan cut him off with a question.
“Why didn’t you pull away?”
Chen Mo frowned. “You bit me, and now you’re asking why I didn’t pull away?”
“You could have pushed me away, shouted, done anything to make me stop. But you didn’t. Why?”
“Because…” Chen Mo hesitated.
What was the reason?
It wasn’t that he was caught off guard. It wasn’t that he had no strength.
It was because, deep down, he hadn’t wanted to.
Damn it.
A smirk tugged at the corner of Xi Siyan’s lips as he slowly ran his fingers over the inside of Chen Mo’s wrist.
“I’m taking that as consent,” he said.
“What?”
“Try it with me.”
Chen Mo was speechless.
The ambiguity of the situation was both thrilling and dangerous. It wasn’t love—not yet—but there was an undeniable tension, a sense of something forbidden and intoxicating.
Especially now.
In the two other rooms of the house, their classmates were fast asleep.
Chen Mo wasn’t the type to shy away from risks.
He had always been someone who dared to explore the unknown once he made up his mind. And now, with Xi Siyan’s persistence, that unspoken restlessness within him was starting to stir.
He had spent years being in control—of himself, of his surroundings, of every decision he made.
But right now, he wanted to see what it would look like when the seemingly unshakable Xi Siyan lost control.
The future heir of the Xi family.
A talented genius, always standing at the top.
Right now, still a young eagle testing its wings.
“How do we try?” Chen Mo asked, his voice carrying a teasing edge.
He reached up and ran his fingers through Xi Siyan’s hair before slowly moving his hand downward.
He traced the back of his neck, then lower, pausing just above the first button of his shirt.
“What should we start with?”
With deliberate slowness, Chen Mo undid the second button beneath his Adam’s apple, careful not to touch the warm skin underneath.
Their breathing grew heavier—both of theirs.
Outside, the crickets chirped in the greenery of the residential complex.
Their proximity alone was enough to send a rush of heat through their veins.
Chen Mo’s hand paused at the fabric of Xi Siyan’s waistband.
Xi Siyan glanced down.
Then, meeting Chen Mo’s gaze, he whispered, “Don’t want to keep going? You can unbutton it. Reach in.”
His voice was low, hoarse, carrying a dangerous allure.
Just then, the door to Chen Mo’s room clicked open.
Chen Mo instantly leaped a meter back.
It was Qi Lin, his hair disheveled, squinting sleepily as he stumbled out, presumably looking for the bathroom.
Feeling around blindly, he muttered, “Where’s the damn switch…”
Xi Siyan, still leaning back on the sofa as if nothing had happened, calmly said, “Go forward and turn right.”
Qi Lin trusted him unconditionally.
Without thinking, he walked forward, turned right—
And smacked straight into the wall.
Bang!
Chen Mo winced.
He had almost warned him in time.
Qi Lin, now fully awake and clutching his forehead, turned around and glared murderously at the completely unfazed Xi Siyan.
“You bastard! Could you be any worse?!”
