Chapter 52
For a few seconds, Fang Huai could feel his pulse racing.
As he looked at the silent man before him, he finally understood what Lin Shengyun had tried countless times to explain—what it meant to want to love but not dare to.
The feeling threaded through countless memories, connecting the lines of dialogue he had memorized long ago, painting them with color.
To love but not dare to—It was caution, walking on thin ice. It was a kiss placed lightly on a forehead while the other was asleep. It was a confession so soft it could never be spoken aloud.
A love that lowered itself so much, it became fragile, almost pitiful.
Fang Huai looked at Ye Yuyuan, and something unexpected swelled in his chest—sympathy.
But it wasn’t the kind of pity that looked down on someone.
It carried a hint of confusion. And something else he hadn’t even realized—an undercurrent of anger.
Ye Yuyuan was an exceptional person.
To outsiders, he always appeared reserved and indifferent. But Fang Huai knew better—beneath the surface, he wasn’t the warm, accommodating type. He had his own pride, his own sharp edges, even if he rarely revealed them.
And yet, when Ye Yuyuan truly liked someone, he could humble himself to this extent?
The thought was almost absurd.
What kind of person could bear to let him do that?
But those thoughts only skimmed across Fang Huai’s mind before fading away.
The afternoon sun in this small city was gentle, and the sky stretched above them, vast and glassy blue.
Fang Huai gripped his script, then pushed himself up from the ground in one swift motion, striding toward the man before him.
“Ye Yuyuan,” the tall, slender youth tilted his head slightly, looking up at him. His light amber eyes gleamed with unfiltered delight as he broke into a smile. “You’re back? Must’ve been a long trip.”
Ye Yuyuan lowered his gaze to him, replying with a quiet hum.
Despite the lingering summer heat, he seemed unaffected. Even in the midday sun, he still wore a neatly pressed suit, buttoned up all the way. The tailored fit accentuated his broad shoulders and refined proportions. He stood there, composed yet distant, the faint furrow between his brows giving him an air of cold elegance—an aloof, handsome figure of authority.
But when he looked at Fang Huai, something softened.
The distance, the sharpness hidden beneath his reserve—All of it eased, just a little.
He closed the sketchbook without a trace, his long, slender fingers gripping the pencil and tucking it between the pages. His gaze subtly swept over the young man in front of him, taking in every detail. A moment later, his eyes darkened slightly—He had lost weight.
…How long had it been? Just a few days?
“Have you had lunch?” he asked in a low voice.
“Not yet.” Fang Huai was also studying him carefully. After a brief pause, he shook his head and answered sincerely, “I have a scene to film this afternoon. I’ll eat after it’s done.”
Ye Yuyuan’s brows furrowed slightly. After a moment, he asked, “How long until the shoot starts?”
“Twenty minutes.”
Not enough time for a proper meal.
“At least eat something first,” Ye Yuyuan said after a brief pause. “After filming… What were you looking at just now?”
The production team was shooting on location, and this place was about a few dozen meters away from the set—a spot under the eaves of an abandoned residential house. Moss crept up the walls, and the afternoon breeze carried a faint, damp warmth.
Fang Huai had been staring at Ye Yuyuan the entire time, only now realizing it. He quickly apologized, “Sorry.”
He had just been a little curious, unable to control himself in the moment. As he looked at Ye Yuyuan, a thought crossed his mind—how could someone this good not be liked by everyone?
Ye Yuyuan, feeling the weight of that gaze, absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against his cufflink. A slight warmth crept up his ears, and he shifted his gaze away, a little uncomfortable.
But Fang Huai was still caught up in the scene from earlier—the moment Ye Yuyuan had looked up while holding his pencil, their eyes meeting.
And before he could stop himself, the question slipped from his lips.
“Were you drawing the person you like just now?”
Ye Yuyuan’s expression remained composed, but for a fleeting moment, something wavered in his dark eyes.…Fang Huai had seen?
A long silence stretched between them before Ye Yuyuan finally murmured, “Mm.”
At the same time, his fingers unconsciously curled around the sketchbook, subtly shifting it behind him. Every page inside… could not be seen.
“Can I take a look?”
Fang Huai suddenly asked.
Maybe it was because he had been spending more time with Ye Yuyuan lately, but sometimes, he forgot all about formalities and politeness. He had started treating Ye Yuyuan like a close friend.
He only realized his question was inappropriate after saying it. “Sorry, I just asked without thinking. If you don’t want to, it’s okay.”
Ye Yuyuan pressed his lips together slightly, his grip tightening around the sketchbook. He lowered his gaze to look at Fang Huai. The young man’s eyes were clear, free of any impurities—he looked at him openly, without any reservations, truly seeing him as a kind and familiar elder or friend.
After a long silence, Ye Yuyuan finally spoke, his voice slightly strained, “In the future… when the time is right, I’ll show you.”
Though, “the right time” might never come.
A man who had always been decisive and precise in everything he did was, at this moment, uncharacteristically hesitant. He didn’t dare to speak the truth. He feared the consequences.
What he had now was little, but it was still better than having nothing at all.
Fang Huai felt a little disappointed. He suddenly realized that his relationship with Ye Yuyuan wasn’t the kind where nothing was hidden between them. But that was natural. He didn’t dwell on it for long.
“Go eat something,” Ye Yuyuan said, shifting his gaze away to hide his emotions. He glanced at his watch. “Fifteen minutes left.”
“I still have one more question,” Fang Huai said hesitantly. “…Can I ask?”
They locked eyes for a moment before Ye Yuyuan finally relented.
He let out a nearly imperceptible sigh and asked, “What is it?”
“The person you like… what are they like?”
“…”
“He,” Ye Yuyuan corrected, meeting Fang Huai’s curious gaze. He hesitated for a long time before finally saying, “He’s… very good.”
He wasn’t good with words. He truly didn’t know how to describe it.
“What’s good about him?” Fang Huai didn’t seem to mind the vague answer.
“Everything.”
This time, his response came quickly.
Fang Huai looked at him, thinking—Ye Yuyuan really liked this person.
Not just a casual fondness. His feelings were serious, cautious. Even just talking about it, his gaze softened in an almost unbelievable way. At first, Fang Huai viewed it as an outsider. But soon, he tried to place himself in that perspective—At that moment, a stray cat curled up by the wall suddenly stretched and let out a long “meow.”
And before either of them could react, the yellow tabby cat suddenly leaped up—
—and bit down on the sketchbook in Ye Yuyuan’s hand!
The unexpected turn of events caught them both off guard.
Ye Yuyuan had been momentarily distracted, and though the cat didn’t manage to snatch the sketchbook away, the force knocked it out of his grip. It fell to the ground, landing right at Fang Huai’s feet, flipping open under the breeze.
The page revealed a sketch of a young man napping in the afternoon light, the sunlight streaming in from the window, casting soft shadows. It wasn’t explicit in any way, but an unspoken, indescribable emotion was embedded in every inch of the drawing. Even a passing glance would be enough for anyone to see the raw, concealed feelings behind it.
Ye Yuyuan’s breath caught.
His gaze turned cold as he looked at the cat.
The stray cat trembled under his glare, let out a startled “meow,” flicked its tail, and bolted.
Luckily, Fang Huai hadn’t looked down yet.
“What’s wrong?”
Fang Huai was startled. He had been lost in thought, his gaze fixed on Ye Yuyuan. Only now, following his line of sight, did he instinctively begin to turn his head to look beside him.
Ye Yuyuan’s fingertips were slightly cold, his knuckles pale.
His lips were pressed into a tight line. And just a second before Fang Huai’s gaze could land on the sketchbook—
The tall, silent man suddenly bent down, covering the young man’s eyes with one hand.
“Don’t look.”
The wind stilled.
The small city in the afternoon was quiet. The late-summer breeze carried traces of moisture, seeping into their breaths. All the distant noises—chattering people, moving cars—were suddenly shut out.
In this moment, they were standing so close that, from afar, it almost looked like they were kissing. Fang Huai could catch a faint scent from Ye Yuyuan—something cool, like cedarwood, yet not distant or indifferent. It was pleasant.
Ye Yuyuan’s voice was low, tight with tension. His warm breath brushed against Fang Huai’s ear as he spoke. Fang Huai froze for a second, an unfamiliar sensation spreading through him—something oddly new, slightly numbing, like a small pebble tossed into a lake, sending ripples that quickly faded away.
Ye Yuyuan’s broad, slender hand remained over his eyes, palm radiating a warmth that almost felt hot.
With his vision blocked, only the lower half of Fang Huai’s face was visible—his straight nose, slightly parted lips, and the soft curve of his pale jawline. He hadn’t fully grown into his features yet, his jaw still carrying the youthful sharpness of someone teetering between boyhood and adulthood. His lips naturally curved slightly upward, making him look both handsome and pure.
Because of the unexpected touch, his delicate lashes trembled slightly, brushing lightly against Ye Yuyuan’s palm.
Ye Yuyuan was tense all over, his dark eyes locked in place, his every breath held back.
His other hand was curled into a tight fist. The sketchbook lay open at their feet, its pages exposed. The moment he moved his hand away, Fang Huai would see everything, clear as day.
But that wasn’t what made him nervous.
Fang Huai, still confused, couldn’t help but ask, “…What’s wrong?”
He didn’t understand the situation. He even wondered for a moment if Ye Yuyuan was teasing him, playing some kind of game. But was Ye Yuyuan really the type to do something like that?
Ye Yuyuan remained silent.
The wind outside gradually returned, flowing through every corner of the space, but inside, his mind remained eerily still. All he could hear was the soft, shallow breaths of the boy in front of him.
So light. Like feathers.
Fang Huai, unable to see anything, was left in complete darkness.
Beyond the eaves, the sky stretched out like an oil painting, a vast expanse of deep blue. A white-winged bird perched on the rooftop, its feathers ruffled slightly by the wind. The air smelled of damp earth and lingering summer rain. The season was nearing its end, and even the cicadas’ cries were slowly fading away.
They seemed to exist in an isolated pocket of the world, sheltered beneath the shadow of the roof, untouched by anything beyond this moment.
Ye Yuyuan’s breathing was restrained, but slowly, it grew heavier.
A part of him cursed himself as despicable, mocked himself for being shameless. But another part of him couldn’t suppress the emotions surging within him—growing wild, unchecked.
Reason and desire wrestled within him, and to this day, he still didn’t know which would win.
The young man stood there quietly.
He truly couldn’t figure out what was happening. Unable to help himself, he blinked, his lashes brushing lightly against Ye Yuyuan’s palm, which was still covering his eyes.
“…Ye Yuyuan? Can you—”
The next second, his words faltered.
He felt something strange—an indescribable sensation. He wasn’t sure what it was, only that Ye Yuyuan seemed to be leaning down, as if he wanted to whisper something in his ear or maybe even… simply embrace him.
But he didn’t know.
Before him, the silent man couldn’t help but bow his head, his dark eyes lowered…
And on the back of his own hand, the one covering the young man’s eyes, he pressed a kiss.
Humble. Reverent.
Ye Yuyuan’s gaze dropped, and even he couldn’t help but despise himself for such a shamefully stolen moment. But the overwhelming emotions that followed—filling his chest, surging through him—were undeniable.
—He was kissing him.
The wind suddenly picked up.
