Resisting Arranged Marriages: Starting with Myself - Chapter 7

Golden sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, stinging Le Xiao’s eyes until he blearily opened them.

He pulled back the quilt and sat up, taking a moment to realize that he had apparently fallen asleep on the floor last night. He certainly did not have a habit of sleepwalking, so it was self-evident how he had ended up in bed while sleeping.

Looking back at the spot beside him, the wrinkles in the sheets betrayed the fact that they had shared the bed last night.

Le Xiao rubbed his eyes in agony, feeling even more uncertain about how to face Ye Jiming.

By the time he dragged himself through his morning routine and went downstairs, a sumptuous breakfast was already laid out on the table. He put every effort into avoiding eye contact with Ye Jiming and stumbled through the meal until it ended. The eight guests then gathered in the courtyard to begin the day’s task: batik dyeing.

According to the production team’s requirements, they were to work in pairs to create a piece of batik clothing. Throughout the process, they were required to wear monitors to record their physical data.

Given yesterday’s experience, Le Xiao was no longer nervous about the lack of change in his data. On the contrary, what made him more anxious was the instruction to work in pairs to create together.

There was no escaping it now.

On the way to the batik workshop, Le Xiao kept his head down and followed behind Ye Jiming, trying to minimize his presence like a child who had done something wrong. Ye Jiming clearly noticed his odd behavior and knew exactly why he was acting this way, yet he feigned ignorance. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at him with a smile.

A second before Le Xiao was about to crash into him, Ye Jiming reached out to steady him. “Why are you not looking where you are going?”

Le Xiao held his breath for a moment, then turned his head away listlessly to avoid his gaze, offering a weak protest. “I am.”

Ye Jiming smiled but did not call him out. He simply took hold of Le Xiao’s wrist and pulled him along to walk side by side, giving him no further chance to run away.

They walked across the damp limestone paths of autumn, through narrow alleys and past rows of stilted buildings. The cameraman followed behind them, panning from their backs to their interlaced hands for a close-up shot.

They traversed a maze of small lanes where large dye vats with lids were visible everywhere. Fabrics in various stages of production hung on clotheslines between the alleys, and the scent of dye floated in the air.

Their guide was a middle-aged woman dressed in traditional batik attire. As they walked, she introduced the process. “Our batik dyes are all extracted from plants. In our village, every household grows indigo. The harvested indigo is first soaked in fresh water for five to seven days, then lime and caustic soda are added to cause a reaction, producing the dye we need.”

As she spoke, she uncovered a roadside vat to show them. “This is the dye that is basically finished. Next, we must maintain the vat by stirring it daily. After ten days, it can be used to dye cloth.”

Le Xiao leaned in curiously to look and said in surprise, “It is green!”

Inside the massive vat was a flowing deep green, looking like a secret passage covered in vines and moss leading to a lush Amazon rainforest on the other side of the world. The color seemed to possess magic, appearing like a vast undersea whirlpool that could suck one’s soul right in.

“I thought the dye would be the same blue as the final product,” he murmured.

“It is not,” the teacher explained with a smile. “It remains this color during the dyeing process. It only turns blue after being left to oxidize.”

Talking as they went, they finally arrived at the dye house.

In the small courtyard, all the necessary tools for batik were laid out. The teacher demonstrated several common patterns and brought out several clean white garments for them to choose from. “Let us pick a garment first. Later, after drawing patterns on it, we can go and dye it.”

Le Xiao stared at the pile of basic white clothes in a daze, momentarily paralyzed by indecision.

Seeing his hesitation, Ye Jiming stepped forward and pulled out a casual shirt. “Xiao Xiao, how about this one?”

Since they were different sizes, the shirt that fit Ye Jiming perfectly was much too long on Le Xiao, making him look like a child who had stolen an adult’s clothes.

“Let us change the size,” Ye Jiming said, preparing to put it back. “It does not fit you well.”

“It is fine, let us take this one. You would not be able to wear a smaller one,” Le Xiao said, lowering his head to fiddle with the batik tools. “I can wear it as pajamas.”

“You are going to wear my outer shirt as pajamas?” Ye Jiming asked with a laugh.

Before Le Xiao could process the implication, he shot back, “I cannot? Is President Ye that stingy?”

“You can, of course you can,” Ye Jiming whispered into his ear. “Wear it every night from now on.”

Le Xiao’s heart felt as if it had stepped onto a drop tower, experiencing a momentary sense of weightlessness. He looked up at Ye Jiming in a daze, finally realizing the implication after the fact.

Le Xiao let out a huff, determined not to speak to him again.

He picked up a pencil from the table, preparing to draw a pattern on the white shirt, but he hesitated, unable to decide. As a beginner, he feared a complex pattern would result in failure, while something too simple would look generic and fail to achieve the effect he wanted.

What should he draw? A handmade garment should have a pattern that carries meaning.

Doodles from his notebook last night flashed through his mind: a small mint leaf under a tall cedar tree.

Should he draw a cedar and mint? Draw Ye Jiming and himself?

He was startled by the thought and shook his head quickly, trying to shake the idea out of his mind.

However, it was too late. The monitor on his wrist began to hum, issuing the first warning of the day.

“What is Xiao Xiao thinking about?” Ye Jiming’s voice came from behind. His breath brushed against the back of Le Xiao’s neck, and the way his arm hovered near him was subtle, keeping their distance precisely between intimate and appropriate.

“Nothing!” Le Xiao puffed out his cheeks like a pufferfish.

He simply tossed the pencil to Ye Jiming. “You draw it.”

Ye Jiming let out a doting laugh. “Xiao Xiao, I am not good at drawing.”

“I do not care.” Le Xiao turned away and busied himself with other materials, touching this and feeling that, vowing not to acknowledge him again.

Despite being the target of a sudden tantrum, Ye Jiming was not annoyed. He took the pencil with a smile, thought for a moment, and began to sketch a pattern on the shirt.

In another corner, Le Xiao rummaged around like a mischievous cat, but his eyes constantly darted toward Ye Jiming. He had his own little scheme in mind.

He claimed he “could not draw” and that it would “not look good,” yet he looked just like those old men practicing calligraphy in the park. Look at that expression and poise; he was clearly full of confidence!

Hmph! Alphas really are liars! He would never believe another word out of his mouth!

As he thought, he began to stare at Ye Jiming in a daze.

Well, even though he was a liar with a sharp tongue, one had to admit his appearance was very pleasing to the eye. When he was serious, his eyes focused intently on the canvas and the movement of the pencil tip. His brow was slightly furrowed, leaving a shallow mark between his eyes. His thin lips were pressed together with the corners turned slightly downward, lacking his usual smiling grace. Because of his hunched posture, his jaw muscles were taut, making his jawline appear even sharper and more defined.

Having been in the entertainment industry for a few years, Le Xiao had seen many celebrities, yet facing his legal husband, he had to admit: this face was truly impressive. If Ye Jiming had chosen to enter show business back then, he would have gained a massive following based on his looks alone.

Lost in thought, Le Xiao’s mind had wandered far away. He failed to notice that his gaze was too direct and bold, far exceeding the realm of a glance.

Perhaps sensing the other person’s gaze, Ye Jiming suddenly looked up, and their eyes collided unexpectedly in mid air.

In an instant, Le Xiao felt as if he had been hit by an electric current. He turned away in a panic, but because the movement was too sudden, he accidentally knocked over his tool bag.

“It is fine, it is fine, I will clean it up myself!” he shouted to the staff members who wanted to help, his voice an octave higher than usual.

As luck would have it, the monitor on his wrist began to act up again. The vibration accompanied by a “beep-beep” sound made Le Xiao’s face turn beet-red, wishing he could bury himself in the ground.

Ye Jiming watched this chaotic scene quietly, a smile forming on his lips. A few seconds later, he lowered his head to continue drawing, looking calm as if he had never been affected, except for the vibration of his own monitor, which betrayed him.

Fortunately, Le Xiao was too occupied with his own mess and did not hear the small noise from Ye Jiming’s side.

Once Le Xiao finished cleaning up his mess, he stole another glance at Ye Jiming. He was still focused on drawing, seemingly unaffected.

With nothing to do and afraid to touch the prepared materials again, Le Xiao could only pace slowly around the courtyard like a bored cat, counting how many patches of moss grew in the cracks of the bricks.

Before long, Ye Jiming looked up and called to him, “Xiao Xiao, it is finished. Come and see.”

“Oh, coming!” Le Xiao responded, pretending to be nonchalant. However, only he knew that his voice was trembling slightly and the monitor on his wrist was vibrating incessantly.

As he walked over, he used his other hand to press down hard on the monitor, attempting to muffle the sound of the vibration.

When he stood still beside Ye Jiming, he was perfectly pulled into a half-embrace by the waist. Le Xiao’s ticklish spot was on his waist. He had to use almost all his strength to restrain himself from jumping on the spot.

“How is it?” Ye Jiming pointed to the pencil sketch on the shirt, his eyes full of expectation.

Patterns were drawn on the collar, placket, hem, and cuffs. They were common and easy-to-draw geometric shapes. Isosceles triangles in small, medium, and large sizes were arranged vertically along a centerline and repeated. Surrounding them were short vertical lines of uniform length and spacing. Above the vertical lines were soft, radiating curves that looked like the veins of a curled leaf. Finally, there were spiraling curves like snail shells, looking like curled antennae or flowers drawn by a child.

Le Xiao clearly discovered the pattern: all the designs were not random doodles but had a certain structure, appearing to be in sets.

He pointed at the patterns and asked, “What do these patterns mean?”

“This is a pine tree,” Ye Jiming said, pointing to the column of triangles. “These are pine needles, and these are the veins of a mint leaf.” His finger brushed over the short lines and leaf veins one by one. Le Xiao looked up secretly and saw the tenderness in his downcast eyes.

He did not expect Ye Jiming’s ideas to coincide with his own. Recalling the scraps of paper he had torn from his notebook, his face quietly turned red. He forced a stern tone and asked, “Then what about this? What are these snail circles?”

Ye Jiming was amused by the description. “These are small flowers, a simple sketch.”

Just as Le Xiao was about to argue that they “looked nothing like flowers,” Ye Jiming turned his head and looked at him seriously. “They are also how you look when you are shy. Every time you blush, it looks like you applied rouge. That is how they draw it in cartoons, with two small circles on the cheeks.”

The seriousness in his eyes was too tender, and the tenderness was too serious, as if it were going to drown Le Xiao completely.

At this moment, Le Xiao felt that if there were a thermometer to measure his body temperature, it would surely burst. His entire being felt like a volcano about to erupt, with hot lava churning inside and the surface temperature reaching an absurd level.

The tactless monitor began to beep again, and Le Xiao’s face turned even redder.

Seeing his embarrassed state, Ye Jiming finally could not help but laugh out loud. His own monitor also issued an alarm.

Amidst the rising “beep-beep” sounds, he pulled Le Xiao into his arms and gently stroked his back.

Hiding in Ye Jiming’s embrace, with his solid chest pressed against him, his skin temperature radiating through the clothes, and the scent of cedar filling his nose, Le Xiao felt comfortable yet also felt like dying of embarrassment.

He wished he could just suffocate in Ye Jiming’s arms and never have to face anyone again!

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