Xie Guan was stunned.
For a moment, his gaze flickered and a sense of realization rippled in his eyes. Huo Mingjun almost thought he understood.
“…” Xie Guan stared at him in bewilderment. “Enough is enough. You’ve insulted my intelligence and compared me to a vase. Do you have to hold a grudge like this?”
Huo Mingjun stuttered, “I didn’t… I meant…”
“You said it yourself, the living room is too empty, so it’s because of the lack of decorations. You’re also indirectly insulting me.” Xie Guan pointed at him. “I’m telling you, even vases have tempers. If you keep this up, don’t be surprised if I actually turn brainless next time just to show you.”
Huo Mingjun was rendered speechless by the straightforward and unique thought process of this mental sledgehammer. He couldn’t understand how he ended up falling for him.
The Unquestionable Straight Guy Teacher Xie indeed lived up to his reputation.
“Okay, okay, I was wrong,” Huo Mingjun said, calming the situation as he guided Xie Guan towards the living room. “You’re not a vase. Sitting in my living room, Teacher Xie is radiant and resplendent.”
Xie Guan playfully nudged him with his elbow, although the force was so gentle that it seemed like playful banter. “Don’t bully me for not being well educated. Is that how you use that idiom?”
“The spirit of the meaning is there, just know that it’s a compliment,” Huo Mingjun said, holding the elbow that Xie Guan nudged in the palm of his hand. Xie Guan was wearing short sleeves, and his skin was dry and cool. There were a few red marks on his exposed forearm and Huo Mingjun asked, “How did you get these?”
“Hmm?” Xie Guan casually glanced down, “It’s nothing. I wouldn’t have noticed if you didn’t mention it. We’re constantly fighting on set, and I probably accidentally brushed against something.”
Huo Mingjun’s palm was warm, and he felt that Xie Guan’s body temperature was too cool. He walked over and raised the central air conditioning temperature up by two degrees, “Be more careful. Every time you film, you should leave behind some souvenirs. How can you go out and meet people if you turn into a leopard with spots all over?”
“Okay, got it.” Xie Guan lazily dragged out his words, leaning on the sofa armrest and smiling as he looked at Huo Mingjun. “Among the director, Huang Cheng, Lin Yao, and my dad, none of the people around me can nag as much as you.”
As Huo Mingjun was loosening his tie, he asked, “Do you have any other positions available around you? Can you squeeze me in?”
Xie Guan seemed to be caught off guard by his question. After thinking for a while, he hesitated before saying, “Godfather…?”
Huo Mingjun was so angry that he nearly started laughing.
He expressionlessly rolled up his shirt sleeves, emanating a burst of murderous intent. Sensing the danger, Xie Guan looked around and found the path was blocked by Huo Mingjun and the coffee table. With a swift move, he propped himself up on the sofa backrest and flipped over cleanly, “Let’s talk calmly, no need for violence!”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“Behave yourself, come over here.”
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This time, Xie Guan couldn’t escape. He was thrown onto the sofa by Huo Mingjun as punishment for running his lips.
The two engaged in a playful scuffle, wrestling back and forth. Eventually, Huo Mingjun knelt on one knee on the sofa, and Xie Guan laid beneath him like a limp fish. Huo Mingjun’s hands were pressed over his head, and his white T-shirt lifted, revealing a slender and toned waist and abdomen.
Skin pressed against skin, one person on top of the other. No matter how good friends they are—especially two people who have already been mistaken for being gay—being in such close proximity feels awkward.
The playful gleam in Xie Guan’s eyes faded. He didn’t reject physical contact with Huo Mingjun; it was just that the area where he was held suddenly felt a bit warm. His nerves became several degrees more sensitive all at once, and every subtle sensation was dramatically magnified. A sudden fluttering sensation exploded in his chest, making him quickly avert his gaze and afraid to meet Huo Mingjun’s eyes again.
Uncomfortably, he moved his wrist and thought, “Strange, why am I blushing and my heart racing like a girl who’s been pressed against the wall?”
Huo Mingjun’s meticulously groomed appearance appeared slightly disheveled with a few strands of hair falling down. His gaze became even more profound and focused, as if he were staring at something incredibly valuable and worth studying.
Huo Mingjun didn’t miss Xie Guan’s attempt to avoid eye contact.
It was at this moment that Huo Mingjun suddenly realized that he seemed a bit… too eager.
Backed by the vast commercial empire of the Hengrui Group, he held a dazzling wealth and power. There were men and women willing to give him heirs, spend their lives with him, and even those who did not care about status that only wanted to spend a night together. The line of people interested in him could stretch from his doorstep all the way to the company’s entrance. However, at the age when most people have settled down, Huo Mingjun remains alone. Like an untouchable iceberg that will never melt and revealing only one-eighth of himself, with a vast and profound coldness hidden beneath the surface of the sea.
As a stereotypical CEO, he neither believed in love at first sight nor favored the gradual development of emotions—in various senses, it sounded like nonsense. In the upper circles constructed by the wealth and status of prestigious families, “keeping oneself pure” wasn’t a commendable trait. Huo Mingjun heard many gossip and rumors about his own intimate life, either subtly or explicitly questioning his sexual orientation, or suspecting some unspeakable ailment.
Having a private life could become news for gossip, but not having one could also become gossip. Huo Mingjun was sometimes puzzled, wondering if God accidentally switched the brains and lower halves of some people.
However, he was ultimately human, not a collection of inorganic matter with an icy and impenetrable exterior. He experienced heart-stopping gifts from chance encounters and calculated betrayals from blood relatives. In the chaos of relationships, the most intimate and the most distant, the deepest and the most superficial, formed a tangled bridge that led to an unreachable other shore.
The switch connected to “falling in love” has always been there, but it was hidden too deep. Thus, it was allowed to be sealed for a long time, accumulating layer upon layer of rust over time.
The appearance of Xie Guan briefly dispersed the mist on the other side of the bridge, only to have it gather again. Huo Mingjun originally thought it was a mirage, but when the fog lifted, the moment was so vivid that he couldn’t help but look back.
He began to take notice of this person who mistakenly entered his domain, watching as Xie Guan slowly ascended to the bridgehead and proceeded forward until the crisis erupted.
Without hesitation, Xie Guan chose to rush towards him, a trajectory that almost overlapped with the traces left in his life by Cheng Sheng many years ago.
Huo Mingjun found himself unable to wait for Xie Guan to walk over from the opposite side, eagerly rushing towards him.
He began to open up his private sphere to Xie Guan, cultivating a relationship more intimate than friends. Like those infatuated with love, he playfully and sometimes intentionally teased the other person. However, Huo Mingjun forgot that Xie Guan never intended to take the path of love from the beginning— he thought he already reached the endpoint and paid no attention to the road unfolding in the opposite direction.
Now, Xie Guan was panicking, like a small animal that finally realized it was not in a safe zone. There lies an unknown path ahead, perhaps a paradise, or perhaps an abyss.
Huo Mingjun felt a pang of heartache.
Recovering from the sensation of a once-in-a-lifetime heart flutter, he realized he was too hasty. He almost forced Xie Guan to open his eyes, make a choice, take a step forward with trepidation, or retreat in fear.
Why couldn’t he wait for him?
Wait for him to settle his heart in the gentle flow of time, to see the path ahead clearly, and to take the step he longed for without regrets.
Xie Guan held his breath, not daring to move, and waiting for Mingjun’s reaction. He felt that the sudden awkwardness might be due to his over-sensitivity, yet he was afraid that the ominous premonition in his heart would come true.
If Huo Mingjun were just as disoriented as him, it would probably directly shatter his worldview.
Huo Mingjun was fully aware that the earth was shattering and the sky was falling, and the situation was changing. But he only gently smoothed the rolled-up hem of his clothes to cover his exposed belly.
This gentlemanly gesture instantly eased Xie Guan’s uneasy heart. The stagnant atmosphere dissipated like a gentle breeze, whether it was a sigh of relief or a smoothing over of his nerves. He suddenly felt that Huo Mingjun was particularly suave, that kind often spoken of by teenage girls online. It was as if his heart experienced a brief, electrifying sensation of tingling.
“I’ll go upstairs for a shower,” Huo Mingjun lightly patted his waist and stood up. “You lie down.”
Xie Guan clung to his arm, using it as a support to pull himself up from the sofa. He casually fixed his disheveled hair and said, “No need to lie down. I brought back a bunch of photos and posters from the company today, they’re waiting for my signature.”
Huo Mingjun glanced over and saw a large roll of posters and photos spread out on the coffee table—there were at least a hundred. He said, “Lying on the coffee table doesn’t seem too comfortable. Go to the study to sign them.”
Xie Guan replied, “Your study is off-limits to idle people, right? I can write on the dining table.”
There’s no need for so many rules.” Huo Mingjun chuckled, “Go ahead.”
When Huo Mingjun emerged from the bathroom, his faint drunkenness and the intense emotional turmoil from earlier had mostly dissipated. Feeling that this state of mind would pose no issue in facing Xie Guan, he dried his hair and strolled into the study.
Xie Guan usually maintained proper posture both standing and sitting, but sitting at the desk seemed awkward no matter how you looked at it. Having been away from a study environment for too long, he felt like a wild horse suddenly fitted with reins, with limbs unsure where to go, making him quite uncomfortable.
Huo Mingjun circled around him, took a look at the words he wrote on the white paper, and almost burst into laughter. “What’s this?”
Xie Guan’s handwriting was so ugly that it was almost unbearable to look at. It couldn’t even be considered regular script; it was akin to the level of a third-grade elementary student attempting to write. Even his own name was written crookedly. He leaned back in his chair and awkwardly scratched his chin with the pen’s tip. “I’m just uneducated, you know.”
His educational background was indeed low. Even if peers weren’t pursuing higher education, they might at least attend a three-year college or vocational school. However, Xie Guan only finished high school before entering the workforce. He didn’t have many opportunities to further his education in these years.
Huo Mingjun stood beside him, pulled out two sheets of paper from the side, and elegantly signed “Xie Guan” on them. Xie Guan leaned over to take a look, seeing that Huo Mingjun had written several versions of “Xie Guan” in different fonts. After finishing, he put down the pen and asked, “Which one do you like?”
“Impressive, they all look good,” Xie Guan pointed to the first one Huo Mingjun wrote, “That one.”
Huo Mingjun held his right hand, adjusted his pen-holding posture, and maintained balance by resting his other hand on Xie Guan’s shoulder, supporting it on the edge of the table. “I’ll write a few more times with you. Practice your signature first.”
His hands were long and beautiful, clearly someone used to holding a pen. The wrist was steady, and he taught Xie Guan to write his name step by step. “Have you got it?” With a slight weight of his arm pressing against Xie Guan’s back, he could feel the warmth coming through the fabric with a lingering scent of damp and subtle shower gel fragrance. Although this wasn’t a substantial hug, it felt like his whole being was embraced.
The intimacy of this action was no less than the awkward eye contact from earlier, but surprisingly, it didn’t bring any discomfort. There was only a gentle and heavy emotion pressing on his chest.
Xie Guan felt his heart quietly contracting. “What about your name?”
“Hmm?” Huo Mingjun adjusted their joined hands, moving a few centimeters down, and signed his own name. Whether intentional or unintentional, their names lined up perfectly.
Surprisingly, it looked quite pleasing.
He burst into laughter, raising his head to look at Huo Mingjun, who happened to be looking down at him. In Huo Mingjun’s eyes, there was a deeply hidden indulgence and fondness.
This scene had a strangely familiar and intimate feeling. Xie Guan’s heart was filled with indescribable tenderness, reminiscent of the scene a few days ago when the male and female leads were reading together under the lamp during filming. There was a fitting adjective in the dialogue, what was it again? … Adding fragrance to red sleeves?
Xie Guan carefully pondered the connotations of this phrase. Looking at Huo Mingjun’s tall and slender figure, he suddenly felt like he had been struck by lightning. Damn, it’s just like adding fragrance to red sleeves.
💖💐💖💐