Kiss you at Sunset (BL) - Chapter 8

Zhou Shiluo froze. All his rationality evaporated in an instant, leaving his mind in a haze. His lips parted slightly as a sharp pain shot through his wrist, bringing all his emotions surging to the surface. Mixed with his displeasure was a trace of astonishment.

“When did I ever say I liked you?”

Yang Jin didn’t respond. His drunken eyes fixed intensely on Zhou Shiluo, as if trying to pierce right through him.

The stare made Zhou Shiluo uncomfortable all over. Flashes of memories from two years ago flickered through his mind, making him irritable. He shook his wrist, trying to free himself, but failed. Holding back his frustration, he ordered, “Let go.”

Yang Jin suddenly burst into laughter. His grip tightened before abruptly releasing. Caught off guard, Zhou Shiluo stumbled backward, his back slamming hard against the tiled wall.

A sharp breath hissed through his teeth as pain twisted his features. His hand instinctively pressed against his lower back. Even with the best temper, he couldn’t hold it in anymore—let alone someone like Zhou Shiluo.

“Yang Jin, are you fucking insane?” he snapped.

Yang Jin’s laughter faded. A fleeting trace of sorrow flashed in his eyes. He lowered his head, shut his eyes tight, and rubbed his face forcefully with both hands before burying it completely in his palms.

The two stood in a deadlock for two minutes. Just as Zhou Shiluo was about to speak, he faintly heard a sob coming from Yang Jin.

He hesitated, straightening up, and looked in shock at the trembling figure on the floor. He never expected that he had actually made Yang Jin cry.

It wasn’t the first time Yang Jin had cried because of him. In fact, almost every time Yang Jin had cried since childhood, it had been because Zhou Shiluo had bullied him.

Snapping back to reality, Zhou Shiluo found himself at a loss, his anger dissipating by half. He opened his mouth and, feeling guilty, asked, “Where’s that backbone of yours now?”

Yang Jin remained silent.

“Alright, stop crying.” Zhou Shiluo crouched down, patting Yang Jin’s trembling shoulder in compromise. “I just said one thing, and you’re already bawling like this? Aren’t you a grown man?”

After a pause, he added, “Quit making a scene. Don’t you find this embarrassing?”

Although Zhou Shiluo sounded annoyed, his body instinctively leaned closer. Wrapping his arms around Yang Jin’s shoulders, he tried to pull him up.

Yang Jin’s muscles were firm—there wasn’t a single bit of softness to grab onto. Zhou Shiluo prided himself on being strong; last time, Liu Linshen had lost an arm-wrestling match against him and had to grudgingly sign up for a gym membership with him.

Yet, he couldn’t budge Yang Jin an inch. It suddenly hit him—this little brat he used to be able to lift with one hand had actually grown up.

“You planning to sleep hugging the toilet tonight?” Zhou Shiluo sighed, exasperated, then pretended to be stern. “Get up yourself.”

But Yang Jin was being stubborn. His crying grew even louder, like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum in a shopping mall when their parents refused to buy them a toy.

Zhou Shiluo’s head throbbed from the noise. He worried that if Yang Jin kept wailing like this, he’d wake up the whole hotel and attract staff.

Without another word, he bent down, picked up a bath towel from the floor, and threw it over Yang Jin’s head, covering his mouth in the process to muffle the noise.

“Stop crying,” Zhou Shiluo ordered. The moment he spoke, Yang Jin actually stopped.

Afraid he might suffocate, Zhou Shiluo quickly removed the towel when he heard no more sounds.

Yang Jin’s eyes were bloodshot from crying, his lips pale as ever. His gaze landed on Zhou Shiluo—empty, helpless.

For a moment, Zhou Shiluo felt lost. He couldn’t tell if this man was still conscious or already half-asleep.

He waved his hand in front of Yang Jin’s eyes and called his name softly, coaxing, “Get in bed and sleep for a bit. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Yang Jin finally reacted. He blinked sluggishly, his dry lips moving as he rasped out, “Why did you abandon me? Didn’t you promise to love me for the rest of your life?”

Back to square one.

Yang Jin’s tone was so serious that if Zhou Shiluo weren’t an unwaveringly straight man, he might have started doubting himself—had he actually made such a promise before?

Then it clicked. He remembered Yang Jin mentioning in the school clinic that he had been deceived in love.

It only confirmed Zhou Shiluo’s suspicion—Yang Jin was drunk and mistaking him for the girl who had hurt him.

His heart settled, a flicker of sympathy flashing through his eyes. Just how deeply had he been wounded for his obsession to be carved into his very bones?

“Liars. You’re all liars,” Yang Jin mumbled.

To keep him calm, Zhou Shiluo instinctively played along. “I didn’t lie to you. Now go to sleep.”

Yang Jin froze at those words. He focused on Zhou Shiluo, his dazed mind catching onto the key point. In a dumbfounded voice, he asked, “Really? You didn’t lie to me?”

Zhou Shiluo’s expression darkened. But for the sake of peace, he bit the bullet and muttered a reluctant “Mhm.”

Satisfied with the answer, Yang Jin obediently stood up. He staggered a few steps, using the wall for support, and headed out of the bathroom.

Zhou Shiluo let out a long sigh of relief.

But the very next second, Yang Jin’s foot slipped. His left foot tangled with his right, and with a loud thud, he landed on the floor.

Zhou Shiluo reached out to catch him but was too late. He rushed over to check for injuries. “Where did you hit yourself?”

Yang Jin seemed to sober up from the fall. His expression returned to normal as he cast Zhou Shiluo an emotionless look. His face darkened. “Zhou Shiluo, what the hell are you doing here?”

Zhou Shiluo was momentarily speechless, as if stumped by the question. After a brief pause, he rolled his eyes and deadpanned, “I came here just to trip you.”

Yang Jin frowned and, without emotion, replied, “Boring.”

He wobbled to his feet and made his way to the bed.

“Yang Jin,” Zhou Shiluo suddenly called after him.

Yang Jin didn’t look back. Only when he collapsed into the bed did he impatiently ask, “What now?”

Zhou Shiluo wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. Or rather, he had too many questions but didn’t know where to start.

He glanced at Yang Jin before pouring a cup of hot water and placing it on the bedside table. “Drink some when it cools down before sleeping. Otherwise, your stomach will be a mess tomorrow.”

Yang Jin blinked, looking at him in surprise, as if he couldn’t comprehend those words. He hesitated for a moment before slowly propping himself up, supporting himself on his arms. He tilted his head and asked irritably, “Why are you suddenly being nice to me?”

His words were sharp, but his eyes betrayed him.

Yang Jin’s eyes were bright—so bright that even the harsh white fluorescent lights couldn’t dull them.

Those deep eyes were filled with longing, like a child who had never tasted candy finally mustering the courage to ask for some.

Zhou Shiluo’s brows softened unconsciously. “Is it weird to care about you? You’re my godbrother now.”

“Godbrother?” Yang Jin chuckled, repeating the word.

“Fine,” he continued. “After all, I do call your mom ‘Mom.’” His smile faded, and whatever hope had flickered in his eyes vanished completely. Flatly, he asked, “Anything else, godbrother? It’s late. Your dear little brother wants to sleep. Or…”

Yang Jin deliberately paused, sweeping his gaze over Zhou Shiluo before finishing his sentence.

“Are you planning to stay and tuck me in?”