Chapter 124: Itch
After returning to the RV, Chu Yang sat on the edge of the bed and accidentally tugged the fabric against his chest, letting out a sharp hiss of pain.
Jiang Jue immediately looked over, his eyes full of concern. “Did you get hurt just now? Let me see.”
“It’s really nothing, just a scratch,” Chu Yang said, pulling his T-shirt off over his head.
The bright interior light illuminated his upper body, revealing a lean, well-proportioned frame with smooth lines of muscle. His skin was remarkably fair, almost unreal against the harsh backdrop of the apocalypse. His waist tapered neatly, showing faint dimples on either side, while his collarbones stood out with sharp definition.
Right beside his left nipple, however, a scratch about three fingers long was clearly visible. The skin was broken, and tiny beads of blood were slowly welling up. Though it wasn’t a deep wound, the red line looked particularly stark against his pale skin.
Jiang Jue hadn’t expected him to strip off his shirt so casually. His gaze lingered on the spot for a moment before he caught himself.
Unaware of Jiang Jue’s stillness, Chu Yang continued to mutter under his breath, “I really don’t get what’s wrong with Old Lin. Whenever something bothered him before, wasn’t he always the first to pull me aside and vent? Now, no matter how much you ask, he stays as quiet as a stone. Brother Jiang, what kind of wall do you think he’s run into?”
With a thought, Chu Yang retrieved a bottle of iodine and a pack of cotton swabs from his spatial dimension, naturally holding them out to Jiang Jue. “Brother Jiang, could you help me clean it? The angle is awkward, and it’s hard to reach properly myself.”
It felt silly to bother Su Mubai over such a minor scratch; it would likely scab over on its own soon enough.
Snapping out of his daze, Jiang Jue took the supplies and crouched down in front of Chu Yang.
Using a cotton swab, he gently dabbed away the tiny beads of blood, dipped a fresh swab into the iodine, and carefully traced the edges of the cut.
As the cool liquid touched the raw skin, Chu Yang gave a small shiver.
Looking at Chu Yang’s bare torso so close to him, Jiang Jue’s voice dropped lower than usual. “Yangyang, be more careful next time. Don’t let yourself get hurt.”
“Got it, I’ll definitely watch out!” Chu Yang agreed readily, though his mind immediately circled back to his favorite topic. “Seriously though, Brother Jiang, I’ve been thinking about this for days. Nine times out of ten, Old Lin’s strange mood has everything to do with Lin Weiwei.”
“Think about it. We were all completely wasted that night. Lin Weiwei was supposed to be sleeping on the second floor, so how did she ‘just happen’ to end up in Old Lin’s room on the third floor? The more I turn it over in my head, the more it sounds like a classic setup from those cheesy soap operas.”
While he was enthusiastically laying out his theory, the tip of Jiang Jue’s little finger accidentally brushed against his nipple as he applied the antiseptic.
A sudden, sharp tingle of electricity shot through Chu Yang’s chest. He burst into surprised laughter, his whole upper body squirming back. “Whoa, Brother Jiang, that tickles! Don’t touch that spot…”
The skin beneath his finger had felt remarkably soft and warm. Jiang Jue froze for a split second, his eyes darkening.
He quickly finished swabbing the scratch, straightened up, and tossed the used cotton into the wastebasket. His voice remained remarkably steady: “All done.”
Chu Yang looked down, saw the clean cut covered in a neat layer of iodine, and pulled a fresh shirt over his head. “Brother Jiang, did you hear what I said? Don’t you think my theory makes sense?”
Jiang Jue was far from foolish. Over the past few days, he had noticed Lin Xiao’s unusual behavior even more clearly than Chu Yang had. He had even picked up on feelings that Lin Xiao himself likely hadn’t sorted out yet—the excessive, unconscious attention he paid to Su Mubai, his instinctive urge to protect him, and his current struggle to face Lin Weiwei amidst his own inner chaos.
Still, when it came to matters of the heart, an outsider pointing them out might only make things worse.
Turning to pack the first-aid supplies away, Jiang Jue spoke in a calm, reassuring tone. “Yangyang, Lin Xiao and the others are adults. They need to work through their own issues. Worrying about it won’t change anything. Let nature take its course.”
Chu Yang thought about it. Though he still felt restless, he knew Jiang Jue was right, so he simply gave a nod.
In the days that followed, a heavy tension continued to hang over the convoy without lifting.
Lin Xiao’s treatment of Lin Weiwei became painfully rigid and distant.
When rationing out supplies, he handed her fair share of food and water directly to her, ensuring she never went without. Whenever danger appeared, he made sure she stayed within their protective circle.
Yet that was the absolute limit of his attention.
He went out of his way to avoid any physical contact, pulling his hands back before their fingertips could touch. Eye contact was practically nonexistent; whenever their gazes accidentally met, he would look away immediately, as if scorched by an open flame.
The air between them was filled with a deliberate, icy politeness. Rather than a couple that had shared a night together, they seemed like two distant, reluctant teammates bound only by circumstance.
Lin Weiwei felt this cold barrier keenly.
During one roadside rest stop, she carried a water bottle over to where Lin Xiao was checking the tire pressure. Her voice was soft, laced with sweet, practiced concern: “Brother Lin, you’ve been driving for so long. Are you tired? Can I carry something for you?”
Lin Xiao didn’t even look up. He shifted his body, dodging her hand as she reached for his backpack, his tone completely flat: “No need. Look after yourself.” With that, he walked toward another vehicle, leaving her standing alone in embarrassment, her fingers curling into tight fists.
Another evening, while setting up camp, Lin Weiwei took her allotted portion of bread and approached Lin Xiao, who was sitting off to the side in a daze. Sitting down carefully beside him, she broke the bread in half and offered it with a gentle smile. “Brother Lin, you barely ate anything at dinner. Take this…”
Lin Xiao looked up as if startled, immediately scrambling to his feet. His voice came out stiff and unnatural: “I’m not hungry. Eat it yourself.” Before he had even finished the sentence, he turned to walk away.
“Brother Lin!” Lin Weiwei finally snapped, lunging forward to grab his forearm tightly. Her voice rose with desperate frustration and clear grievance: “What is going on with you lately? Didn’t you… didn’t you promise you would take responsibility for me? Why do you keep avoiding me like this? What did I do wrong?”
Lin Xiao stiffened, attempting to wrench his arm free, but she held on with all her strength.
His brows knit together in deep irritation, his voice hardening. “I’m not avoiding you.”
“You’re not? Then why won’t you even look at me?” Lin Weiwei looked up, her eyes welling with fresh tears. “Look at how you’re acting right now, Brother Lin! You don’t speak to me, you can’t even stand the sight of me—how is that not avoiding me?”
Deep down, resentment burned through her; reality had completely betrayed the script she had written in her head.
She had assumed that after that night, even if Lin Xiao didn’t immediately dote on her, he would at least treat her with guilt-driven tenderness and care. Instead, he treated her worse than an absolute stranger.
All her careful planning and calculated moves had resulted in nothing but humiliating defeat.
Taking a deep, trembling breath, she swallowed down her panic and shifted to an even more accusatory, wounded tone: “Brother Lin, what happened that night… you were completely willing. What do you mean by treating me like this now?”
Daily Life of Being Turned Gay by the Male Lead After Transmigrating into an Apocalypse
