That Man Is a Little Wild - Chapter 24
A tremor of aftershock still ran through him, his body slack, his mind floating somewhere between exhaustion and a dawning calm. Chi Ye steadied him with a rough gentleness, lifting him and holding him as if he were fragile glass. The world narrowed to the small, warm space between them: breath, heartbeat, the faint scrape of fabric against skin.
Li Cang’s voice came out thin, a whisper threaded with the remnants of whatever had just passed. “It’s sticky. I need a shower.”
Chi Ye obliged, patient and carefulmore attentive than possessive, fetching a towel, cleaning him, smoothing hair from his forehead. He moved through the motions like someone memorizing a map, as if every small action might imprint the outline of this night forever.
When he was done, Chi Ye guided him to the bed. Li Cang curled in on his side, the posture of someone who sleeps on the alert, every limb tense with a private anxiety. Chi Ye wrapped an arm around him and held him close until the tightness in Li Cang’s limbs eased. He watched the slow close of Li Cang’s eyes and, before sleep took him completely, kissed his mouth oncesoft and intimate.
Later, when they walked down the corridor together, Li Cang suddenly pulled Chi Ye close and spoke in a rush, as if unburdening himself at last.
“I’m bad-tempered,” he said. “I bite, I shout, I run away to bars to drink and dance. I’ve been hurt before. The first boyfriend left after I hit him, the second you already know about. I get attached too fast, then I get bored too soon. I’m scared you’ll become another one of my exes.”
Chi Ye listened, unreadable for a heartbeat, then answered simply: “I want to be with you.”
Li Cang tightened his hold on him. “I might obsess over you for a while. I might grow tired. You might. Either way, thank you. These days with you have been the only good part.”
Chi Ye’s mouth curved into a half-smile. He toyed with the memory of Li Cang’s old ritual, the bell at the temple, and asked lightly, “If you tire, will you go ring the bell again?”
Li Cang’s smile was brief and real. “If we break up, I’ll skip the ritual. I’ll bring the bell to you.”
Chi Ye’s reply was low, half-playful and half-devoted. “Before that happens, I’ll make sure you never want to leave.”
Li Cang blinked, a soft expletive lost between a laugh and a gasp, the kind of word that betrayed surprise and something close to delight.
They walked on, hand in hand, neither promising forever nor pretending certainty. It was enough that, for now, they belonged to one another across the fragile quiet of the hallway.