Chapter 111
That posture was far too intimate.
Lin Zhiqiao’s heart was pounding like a drum. Feeling a little awkward, he shifted his leg slightly—only to be gently held in place by Song Fengshi.
“Don’t move yet.” Song Fengshi glanced up at him, then lowered his head again and suddenly took off his shoe.
A chill ran across the sole of Lin Zhiqiao’s foot, startling him so much that no sound came out.
In the next second, a faint sting brought him back to his senses.
Song Fengshi had somehow produced a bandage and was pressing it onto the back of Lin Zhiqiao’s heel.
“So it really is rubbed raw,” Song Fengshi said softly. “I noticed the way you were walking earlier seemed a little off.”
Lin Zhiqiao fell silent for a moment.
A scraped heel was nothing unusual for someone with a dance background. He had felt it, but he had not paid much attention to it. He had not expected Song Fengshi to notice.
Pressing his lips together, he said quietly, “I didn’t know we’d be climbing a mountain today. I wore new shoes.”
Song Fengshi placed a sheet of paper on the ground, set the injured foot on top of it, then lifted Lin Zhiqiao’s other foot.
Lin Zhiqiao shrank back a little. “This one isn’t rubbed raw, no need to bandage it… Don’t touch it, it’s dirty.”
But Song Fengshi acted as if he had not heard him and stuck another bandage onto the same spot on the other heel.
“Just in case,” he said.
Lin Zhiqiao pressed his lips together and said nothing, but the tips of his ears were red as if they had been brushed with paint.
[Damn, this is basically forcing me to ship them. [starry eyes.jpg]]
[The pink bubbles are practically spilling off the screen, hehe. [wiping drool.jpg]]
[President Song is way too attentive—he even noticed such a tiny scrape.]
[Marry a careful, considerate man and you’ll live happily forever. [hint hint.jpg]]
[So rich people really do climb the mountain themselves to watch the sunrise? I thought they’d just take a helicopter straight up.]
[Maybe they want to enjoy life and get some exercise?]
[Has anyone else noticed the Lin family acting kind of weird? Why do they keep looking in Xiao Qiao’s direction?]
[They’re probably looking at President Song, right? Someone with his status draws attention naturally. It’s like how we act when we see celebrities.]
[Is it just me, or does Xiao Qiao look a tiny bit like Lin Mubai’s parents?]
[I think so too, but I heard Lin Zhiqiao and Lin Mubai are distant relatives.]
[Then who exactly was spreading those rumors that Lin Zhiqiao was leeching off Lin Mubai’s fame? If he really wanted to piggyback off him, he could just say they’re relatives—that’d work better than anything.]
[Have you all noticed? Since the livestream started, Xiao Qiao hasn’t said a single word to Lin Mubai…]
The livestream comments were noisy and chaotic, but Lin Zhiqiao paid them no mind.
Song Fengshi got up and walked away, and that made the heated air around Lin Zhiqiao seem much cooler. It was only after a little while that he realized Song Fengshi was nowhere in sight.
He lifted his head and looked around, then asked Ji Ran, who was not far away, “Did you see Song Fengshi?”
“No idea.” Ji Ran shook his head. “Wasn’t he with you?”
Lin Zhiqiao did not say anything else.
It was not as if he could admit that he had gotten flustered and lost track of the man, right?
Luckily, Song Fengshi returned on his own not long afterward, carrying a square shopping bag in his hand. It looked like a shoebox.
When he got closer, Lin Zhiqiao looked carefully and realized it really was a shoebox.
Song Fengshi crouched down in front of him again and took out a new pair of shoes. “These are made of softer material, so they shouldn’t rub. Try them on and see if they fit. If not, I’ll go exchange them.”
As he spoke, he reached for Lin Zhiqiao’s feet again, but Lin Zhiqiao hurriedly stopped him. “No need, no need. I can do it myself.”
Song Fengshi looked at him, then handed over the shoes.
They fit perfectly—not too big, not too small.
“Looks like there’s no need to exchange them,” Song Fengshi said.
Lin Zhiqiao gave a quiet hum. He looked at him, then quickly looked away again as if burned. “Thank you.”
“There’s no need to be so polite with me.” Song Fengshi stood up, and as his fingertips dropped back to his side, they just happened to brush across the ends of Lin Zhiqiao’s slightly curly hair. The touch was faint, a little ticklish—like it brushed against his heart instead.
The others in the distance had taken in the entire exchange between them.
On Song Xinqiu’s childish face was an expression full of deep reflection, as if she were relieved that her usually dense little uncle had finally gotten a clue.
Beside her, Mother Song was happily soaking in the sweetness. If she had not already been holding snacks in her hands, she probably would have been clutching her face.
Even Father Ji could not help commenting, “A tough man with a tender heart!”
Ji Ran covered his mouth, barely holding back his laughter.
The group soon set off again and reached the mountaintop campsite before dark.
The production team had prepared family tents in advance. Once pitched, the tents were spacious enough to hold five or six adults.
Naturally, Lin Zhiqiao ended up in Song Fengshi’s family tent.
The new hiking shoes were indeed comfortable and did not rub at all. Lin Zhiqiao glanced at his heels, where the two bandages Song Fengshi had put on were still there.
Father Song slept on the very outside. The youngest, Song Xinqiu, slept with Mother Song. Lin Zhiqiao took the other side of the tent, and just one arm’s length away from him was Song Fengshi.
After a full day of climbing, there was no way he was not tired.
It had been hot during the day, but this was the mountain at night, and the temperature had dropped quite a bit.
Lin Zhiqiao adjusted his sleeping bag, exhausted to the core—but then he glanced at Song Fengshi, who was lying right beside him—
[Can’t sleep. Absolutely can’t sleep :)]
Beside him, Song Fengshi listened to Lin Zhiqiao’s inner voice and had to take several deep breaths before he managed to suppress the emotions surging inside him.
He could not sleep either.
The two sleepless people stared at each other in the dark until Song Fengshi suddenly sat up and leaned further inward.
Lin Zhiqiao’s heart gave a heavy thud. He instinctively held his breath, almost thinking that Song Fengshi was about to do something to him.
But Song Fengshi merely leaned across and pressed down a corner of the tent that had not been spread flat properly.
“Go to sleep early,” he said softly as he lay back down in his sleeping bag. “We have to get up early tomorrow.”
Lin Zhiqiao let out a quiet hum and shrank deeper into his sleeping bag.
In the darkness, he could not make out Song Fengshi’s face clearly, but he could feel the man’s breathing so close by. A few times, it even stirred his hair, almost brushing against his ear.
Lin Zhiqiao closed his eyes and forced himself not to think too much, but then something pressed down over his hand through the sleeping bag.
It felt like Song Fengshi’s hand.
“Good night,” he heard him say.
Lin Zhiqiao’s fingers twitched slightly. Through the soft fabric, the other man’s hand closed gently around his.
This time, he did not move.
“…Good night,” he heard himself reply, his voice so soft it was barely louder than a mosquito’s buzz.
*
The next day, everyone got up early, packed their things, and claimed a perfect spot at the summit to watch the sunrise.
The sun had not come up yet. Lin Zhiqiao tugged at his sleeves, trying to keep the cold wind from slipping into his clothes.
The temperature on the mountain was even lower than he had imagined.
In the next second, a wide coat carrying warmth settled over his shoulders.
Instinctively, Lin Zhiqiao grabbed the coat on his shoulders and looked up at its owner. “Aren’t you cold?”
“I’m not cold,” Song Fengshi said. “It’s fine. Wear it—don’t catch a chill.”
Lin Zhiqiao accepted the gesture and edged a little closer to him.
This was the first sunrise he had ever watched in his life.
And he was watching it together with Song Fengshi.
When the first ray of light pierced through the darkness, the hand hanging at Lin Zhiqiao’s side was suddenly taken in someone else’s.
That hand was larger than his, dry and warm. Being held like that, he could clearly feel the heat from the other man’s palm. It was strangely reassuring.
Lin Zhiqiao moved lightly, and the hand loosened slightly—only to tighten again the moment he relaxed, their fingers sliding together into a firm clasp.
Lin Zhiqiao’s breathing caught, but he did not pull away again.
