Playing games was always a joy for him; he loved the sense of control, where victory and defeat were merely things he could manipulate at will.
However, now he felt lost.
This was a dating variety show. He needed to compete with others and could not afford to lose this “battle,” yet the power of decision was completely out of his hands.
That unfamiliar sense of passiveness felt like grasping at a wisp of wind; he didn’t know how to hold on to it.
Perhaps it was his stillness that generated a hint of dissatisfaction in Tong Sui, who had been sleepily watching. He lifted his damp eyelashes, resembling the ripples on a spring pond.
Chi Xingyu’s breathing grew heavier.
Tong Sui raised his hand and tugged at his collar, exposing a section of snow-white neck, so delicate it seemed it could easily snap.
Yet, he approached without any sense of wariness, resembling a lamb that willingly jumped into a trap, completely forgetting the danger posed by the butcher before him.
“Help me wipe it,” he requested softly.
Chi Xingyu made a sound, a low affirmative, the damp towel warmed by his hands gently pressed against Tong Sui’s neck.
Tong Sui shivered sensitively.
Chi Xingyu didn’t exert much force but could feel the delicate tremor from Tong Sui. His skin was too sensitive; a light touch would elicit such a response, a pink hue spreading over the pristine white skin.
Tong Sui bit his lip and held on for a moment longer but could bear it no longer; he dodged to the side, saying, “There’s no need to wipe anymore; it’s already fine.”
“Is it really okay now?”
Chi Xingyu showed no intention of letting go, even reaching a hand around the back of Tong Sui’s neck, saying, “But I feel like it’s still not clean.”
His large hand, warm against Tong Sui, made him want to curl up into a ball.
Tong Sui’s voice came out trembling, “It’s okay, really… I’m very clean.”
Chi Xingyu gazed at the piece of pale, jade-like neck, now slightly flushed from his touch.
It was indeed very clean.
Clean enough to make him want to leave a mark of his own on it.
Chi Xingyu ground his aching teeth, and considering they were still filming, he ultimately refrained from leaving his bite mark on Tong Sui’s soft cheek.
But he didn’t easily let Tong Sui off the hook; the wet towel meticulously brushed over his reddened neck, more like tenderly fondling a rabbit’s ears than mere wiping.
He repeatedly rubbed until each part of the skin blossomed with an enticing pink hue.
Tong Sui lowered his head, biting his lower lip to stifle any sound.
Chi Xingyu stared at the slight curve of Tong Sui’s lips, and in a moment of impulsiveness, he blurted, “What does it feel like when he kisses you?”
Tong Sui froze for a moment, seemingly not understanding.
Chi Xingyu clarified, “Zhong Yi looked unsatisfied after you kissed him. What about you? How did it feel?”
Until today, Chi Xingyu couldn’t even conjure the sensation of skin against skin; he disliked being too close to others.
But when it came to Tong Sui, Chi Xingyu had to admit he felt no aversion—rather, it excited him.
Tong Sui’s skin was fair, appearing soft and tender, as if it could be crushed with just a little force.
As for kissing…
Chi Xingyu initially thought kissing was merely pressing lips together—what was the point? He even found it a bit unhygienic until he remembered Zhong Yi’s intoxicated expression, which stirred a mix of annoyance and curiosity in him.
What did it really feel like?
Chi Xingyu focused on Tong Sui’s lips; they were petite and beautiful, like plump, rosy berries with a glossy film of moisture over them.
A thought bubbled up in his mind: it should be delightful to kiss.
Tong Sui, trying to remember what Chi Xingyu said, found his thoughts muddled. He frowned and murmured softly, “I don’t remember clearly.”
Though Chi Xingyu didn’t receive the answer he wanted, his mood improved.
Tong Sui didn’t even remember Zhong Yi, which meant he wasn’t particularly special, and it was merely a game segment, distanced by a tissue—a far cry from an actual kiss.
Chi Xingyu said, “If you don’t remember, don’t think about it. Just remember me; that’s enough.”
Tong Sui replied, “Alright.”
Chi Xingyu wanted to coax Tong Sui into more conversation, but then the door to the room was knocked on at an inappropriate moment. “Xiao Sui, it’s time for your interview.”
It was Zhou Siyuan’s voice.
Chi Xingyu clicked his tongue; the timing was indeed just right.
He had almost forgotten this smiling tiger.
Outside the door, Zhou Siyuan didn’t urge them but quietly stood waiting for the door to open.
The lock turned, and the door opened inward.
Chi Xingyu blocked the entrance, grasping Tong Sui’s wrist, scrutinizing the cup that Zhou Siyuan held.
“What do you have there?”
Zhou Siyuan replied, “It’s just some hangover soup; there’s more downstairs if you need it.”
He handed the cup to Tong Sui.
“Drink this before going for your solo interview; the hangover effect should be decent.”
Tong Sui obediently took the cup offered to him.
The cup’s exterior still held warmth, suggesting it had just been boiled, wafting a faint herbal aroma.
Upon catching the scent, he hesitated.
It sounded as if it would taste bitter.
Tong Sui frowned, holding the cup as if afraid to drink, resembling a child frightened of getting a shot. Zhou Siyuan, accustomed to such sights, pulled out a few fruit candies.
Zhou Siyuan said, “It’s not as bitter as you think. If you’re still worried, I have candies afterward.”
Hearing this, Tong Sui glanced at Zhou Siyuan’s palm, which this time held nothing but strawberry-flavored candies.
Chi Xingyu smirked inwardly.
It was merely a trick to pacify a child; who would fall for this?
Tong Sui brought the cup to his lips and gulped down the hangover soup, muttering softly, “The taste is so strange…”
Zhou Siyuan took the empty cup. “At least it wasn’t bitter, right?”