Chapter 59: Zhou Yili, Can I Still Hold You as I Sleep Tonight?

Outside the window, the rain fell in a soft, endless drizzle.

Someone held him gently in their arms, stroking his thin back again and again, lowering their head to kiss away the tears at the corner of his eyes.

“It’s all right, don’t cry…”

Zhou Yili’s tenderness was a rare thing.

He never gave it to anyone else.

The person in his embrace slept deeply, his pale, delicate cheek resting on Zhou Yili’s collarbone, a faint trace of blood blossoming on his beautiful lips.

He was breathtakingly lovely.

Zhou Yili reached out to feel Shen Jixing’s forehead, finding it warmer than his own.

“Are you running a fever again, little Jiao Xing?”

Zhou Yili habitually took out a thermometer to check. Fortunately, it was only slightly above normal.

He seemed to be terribly afraid of rainy days.

Zhou Yili had previously thought his fever was the reason he clung to him, crying and making a fuss.

But perhaps, it was the rain itself?

The sound of raindrops fell onto the balcony, fogging the glass door with a silvery haze.

“What exactly happened to you?” Zhou Yili’s fingertips brushed lightly at the wet corner of his eye.

Such a cold, aloof, dazzlingly proud soul, who looked down on all things in this world—how could he, at night, shrink into such a small, vulnerable creature?

“Was it someone who hurt you so much?”

That was why Shen Jixing’s heart was so unbalanced.

He wanted to give Zhou Yili a taste of that same hurt.

Zhou Yili almost laughed at his own wild imaginings, but honestly, he wasn’t very bright—if Shen Jixing didn’t say anything, he could never guess.

The person in his arms seemed to sense his silence, and gently rubbed his lovely, cool cheek against him.

“Hey.” Zhou Yili looked as if he meant to stop him, but failed.

He watched as that pale cheek left a bloodstained mark on his collarbone, a streak of bright red.

He clicked his tongue softly, “You’ve made your face all dirty.”

Zhou Yili wiped his face a couple of times; his skin was so delicate that even a light touch brought out a flush.

He set him down and walked to the bathroom to tend to the bleeding wound.

“Your teeth are still sharp,” he muttered.

When he bit, there was no mercy at all.

Zhou Yili eyed the bloodstain, rubbing it gently with his fingertip, the corners of his lips curving up carelessly.

Then, with a creak, the bathroom door swung open.

Through the water-speckled mirror, Zhou Yili saw Shen Jixing, drowsy and dazed with sleep.

His loose white shirt had slipped down to reveal one shoulder; the traces of tears still lingered at the corners of his eyes and nose, making his gaze wet and confused as he stood there barefoot, looking at Zhou Yili.

Once again, he wasn’t wearing pants.

Zhou Yili turned away, trying his best not to look down. “Do you know why you’re always getting sick?”

Sleeping without pants—what a ridiculous habit.

Shen Jixing stepped barefoot through the door, crossing the scattered drops on the floor until he stood in front of Zhou Yili, reaching out to touch the new, unhealed wound on his collarbone.

“…Does it hurt?”

Zhou Yili lowered his gaze to those long, wet lashes. “It’s fine. I’ll settle the score with you tomorrow. For now, let’s get back to bed.”

Shen Jixing answered softly, “Mm.”

His mind was muddled; he couldn’t keep track of scores or debts right now.

He waited quietly for a while, but Zhou Yili was still wiping water from his face, showing no intention of leaving with him.

After hesitating, Shen Jixing tugged at the hem of Zhou Yili’s shirt.

His voice was calm, cold, and even: “Zhou Yili, can I still sleep holding you tonight?”

Zhou Yili’s hand froze mid-motion.

He looked down into those damp, shining eyes—so bright it seemed they might spill over. The man’s cheeks were snowy white, his eyes rimmed red with tears.

He stared straight at him.

Zhou Yili’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he didn’t answer.

“My signing bonus just arrived. I have three payments of three million each. I can give all of them to—ah!”

Before he could finish, Zhou Yili swept him off his feet from the wet bathroom floor, slinging him over his shoulder and striding toward the bed.

They fell together onto the soft mattress.

The impact made Shen Jixing sway a little, his gaze dazed and wet as he slowly reached out to hug Zhou Yili’s waist.

Suddenly, his chin was tipped up by long, slender fingers; Zhou Yili’s dark, fathomless eyes pinned him in place, the bloodstain on his collarbone making him look sharp and dangerous.

“Trying to pay me with my own money…”

“How do you even think of these things?”

Shen Jixing fluttered his lashes, about to say something more.

But his face was pressed firmly against Zhou Yili’s chest, where his scent was warm and comforting. “Shut up. Sleep.”

Lest he lose his temper and do something he’d regret.

Coming to him with nowhere else to go, seeking comfort when feverish, insisting on sleeping together on rainy nights—this man treated him like some nameless, living toy.

“If you want to use me, then use me for a lifetime.”

Zhou Yili’s voice was suddenly fierce and harsh.

Shen Jixing soon fell asleep in his arms, his face nestled against Zhou Yili’s chest, his words muffled: “…A lifetime?”

Zhou Yili’s mind was clear, the wound on his chest prickling with pain.

He parted his lips slightly, then pressed them together in cold restraint.

He must be mad, to even think of saying to Shen Jixing: “Just stay by my side like this, for a lifetime.”

So he could forgive every hurt Shen Jixing ever dealt him, without question.

And once more, give him everything he had, including his bloodied, beating heart.

All of it—just for him.