Stop Being a Black Lotus, Okay? - Chapter 5

The weather on the day of the school sports meet was exceptionally beautiful.

The sky was a clear, translucent blue, and the sunlight was brilliant but not scorching. A gentle breeze rustled through the camphor trees lining the sports field.

Lu Min parked his car in the lot outside the school. He was not dressed in his usual formal suit today; instead, he wore deep gray casual clothes with a thin trench coat layered over them. He looked less cold and stern than usual, yet that innate sense of detachment remained, making him appear somewhat out of place in the noisy campus environment.

He had come to the school because of what happened yesterday. At the dinner table, Ying Yulian had been hesitant, looking at him with uncertainty.

Lu Min had set down his utensils and used a dark gray handkerchief to wipe his hands. His eyes narrowed with a hint of impatience.

“Ying Yulian, I do not believe I am some kind of monster.”

Lu Min made a gesture as if zipping his own lips open, then pointed to Ying Yulian’s mouth. He raised an eyebrow and said, “Open that sewn-up mouth of yours.”

Ying Yulian glanced at Lu Min, uttered a soft “oh,” and then spoke slowly and shyly in a small, sticky voice.

“Mr. Lu, could you come to see my sports meet?”

“Did you sign up for an event?”

“I signed up for the 400-meter sprint.”

Lu Min was somewhat surprised. Having pursued Ying Yulian for so long in his previous life, he was well aware of his rival’s solitary and antisocial nature. This kind of collective activity was not something Ying Yulian would typically join. He could even imagine how the Ying Yulian of his past life would react: he would politely decline on the surface while secretly cursing it as a disgusting activity for fools with an excess of collective honor.

Then he thought of this life. Ying Yulian had been rescued by him, and perhaps everything really was different. His gaze swept over Ying Yulian’s beautiful, innocent face. The boy’s eyes were filled with a mix of caution and expectation, and his face had filled out considerably under Lu Min’s care over the past few days.

For some reason, a sudden urge to pinch the boy’s cheek overcame him. As soon as the thought occurred, Lu Min acted on it.

Lu Min’s fingers were cold, carrying the chill of early winter from outdoors, but his fingertips bore the thin calluses formed by years of holding a gun. The strength was not heavy, yet it carried an undeniable sense of control. His thumb rested beneath Ying Yulian’s jawline while his index and middle fingers gripped the other side. With a gentle lift, he forced the boy to tilt his face upward.

The sensation was novel. In his solitary life, Lu Min had never pinched anyone else’s face; the only one he had ever touched was his own, which was rough and dry. But the face he was playing with now felt soft, the flesh almost overflowing from his grip. He had never encountered something like this, so he gripped and pinched it a few more times.

The overhead lights were somewhat piercing. Ying Yulian was forced to open his eyes wide. His field of vision was filled with Lu Min’s approaching face and the warmth of his broad, rough palm.

They were too close.

He was close enough to count the individual lashes on Lu Min’s eyes and see his own panicked reflection in those black pupils. He could feel the warmth of the man’s breath brushing against his lips, carrying a faint scent of tobacco—the cold, crisp scent unique to this man.

His past trauma of being sold and nearly forced into illicit work made Ying Yulian loathe physical intimacy with others. Yet, strangely, he felt no resistance toward Lu Min. In fact, he found himself wishing they were even closer.

He remembered the time in the hospital ward when he had fit perfectly into Lu Min’s embrace, as if they were born to be one. He felt that no matter what happened, Lu Min would never abandon him. Although being sick was miserable, he infinitely missed that moment in Lu Min’s arms.

Lu Min knew his hands were calloused from his time at the police academy, but he had not expected Ying Yulian’s skin to be so sensitive. Red marks appeared immediately. Frowning, he prepared to withdraw his hand.

However, Ying Yulian cupped Lu Min’s hand and held it against his cheeks. His eyes crinkled into a smile, and his fair cheeks bunched together as he allowed the man to play with and knead his face. He said with a smile, “Mr. Lu, if you want to pinch me, just do it.”

Then, the youth lowered his eyelashes, appearing somewhat dejected. “After all, besides this, I have nothing else I can give back to you.”

The room fell into silence for a moment. But Ying Yulian knew that Lu Min was watching him.

Lu Min looked at him with a gaze Ying Yulian had never seen before—one of intense scrutiny. His gaze started at the forehead and moved down inch by inch, passing over the eyelashes moistened by sleep, the corners of the eyes flushed with an unnatural red, the bridge of the nose, and finally stopping on his slightly parted lips.

Ying Yulian’s breath hitched. His face was forced upward, stretching his neck into a vulnerable and elegant curve. His Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily, making a soft swallowing sound. This posture left him completely exposed to Lu Min’s gaze, like a fragile object stripped of its packaging.

The pad of Lu Min’s thumb rubbed against the edge of Ying Yulian’s jawline. The pressure was light, yet it brought a dense, trembling itch. Ying Yulian could not speak; he could only gently nuzzle against Lu Min’s hand. The movement was small because his face was still being pinched.

Lu Min’s gaze fell on his lips. They were dry and cracked from a high fever, with small flakes of skin. On the inside of the lower lip, there was a small wound he had unconsciously bitten, now covered in a dark red scab.

Lu Min’s fingertip moved up and pressed very lightly against the wound. “Does it hurt here?” he asked.

Ying Yulian shuddered. A slight sting radiated from his lip, mixed with the rough texture of Lu Min’s thumb, sparking a strange, scalp-numbing shiver. His eyelashes fluttered wildly, and his eyes were misty, as if covered by a layer of water. He looked at Lu Min blankly and helplessly, like a kitten caught by the scruff of its neck.

Lu Min watched him for a long time. So long that Ying Yulian felt he was about to drown in the depths of those black eyes. He began to tremble uncontrollably, until—

Lu Min suddenly let go. The strength was withdrawn so abruptly that Ying Yulian’s jaw lost its support and dropped an inch. He instinctively reached up to rub the area, but the skin still held the warmth and texture of Lu Min’s fingers: hot, rough with calluses, and possessing an unmistakable sense of masculine dominance.

“I have a meeting to attend on the day of the sports meet,” Lu Min said as he straightened up. His voice had returned to its usual calm, as if the person who had just been scrutinizing him while pinching his face was not him.

The heart that Ying Yulian had been holding in suspense shattered completely. His head drooped dejectedly as he uttered a disappointed “mm.”

“But I will get there as soon as possible.”

Lu Min’s next sentence caused the dejected youth’s eyes to light up instantly, his lips curving into a smile that revealed two dimples.

Lu Min looked at those dimples. In the past life, Ying Yulian also loved to smile, but those dimples were more like a harbinger of death. Once Ying Yulian smiled, the person in front of him was not far from the end. But in this life, when Ying Yulian smiled, Lu Min could only feel sweetness. The two dimples looked as if they were filled with honey. He even began to wonder if he had found the wrong person in this lifetime.

As he thought this, the youth walked over. His steps were much lighter than when he had been hesitating earlier. The back of Ying Yulian’s ears flushed crimson as he thrust a notice into Lu Min’s hand.

“This is the notice.” Having said that, he did not wait for Lu Min to reply before running away.

“What an idiot,” Lu Min muttered, shaking his head helplessly.

Ying Yulian ran into his room, his body still stiff. He stroked his chest to calm his racing heart, his fingers unconsciously tracing his jaw and touching his lips. The spot Lu Min had pressed was currently burning, as if an invisible mark had been branded there.

He looked out at Lu Min, who was standing in the living room pouring water. The man was in profile, the sunlight from the window outlining his sharp features: a high bridge of the nose, tightly closed thin lips, and the muscles hidden beneath his clothes. The hand holding the cup was steady, the knuckles distinct and the wrist bone protruding.

It was these hands that had just pinched his face, forced him to look up, and taken in his most vulnerable state. Ying Yulian’s ears turned red again with delayed realization. He buried his face in his pillow and took a deep breath. The pillow had been washed by Lu Min, and it still carried his crisp, cold scent. At this moment, the smell made his heart race.

A sense of longing spread from where he had been touched, weaving through his veins and flowing through his entire body.

Ying Yulian had just finished the 400-meter final. His chest was heaving violently, and sweat poured down his forehead, glistening in the sun. He leaned against his knees, gasping for air. His ears were filled with a buzzing roar and the distant, blurred sounds of cheering.

Third place. He had finished third in his heat. For someone who had struggled to finish a full 400 meters just a month ago, this was an incredible result.

The physical education teacher patted his shoulder and said, “Not bad, not bad.” His classmates swarmed around him, offering water and towels, surrounding him with noisy concern.

But Ying Yulian’s gaze pierced through the crowd, anxiously scanning the spectator stands at the edge of the field. Lu Min had said he would come this afternoon. He had mentioned a meeting and that he might arrive late, but he promised he would come.

Ying Yulian had been waiting since the morning. He waited during registration, during the warm-up, and even as he stood on the starting line. Every time he looked toward the stands, his heart tightened. Nothing, nothing, still nothing.

There were many people in the stands. But Ying Yulian believed he would be able to spot Lu Min at a single glance.

Maybe he won’t come.

The thought was like a needle pricking the softest part of his heart. Lu Min was busy; he knew that. There were so many people in the company, so many meetings, and so many things far more important than him. The youth lowered his head and rubbed his face messily with a towel, trying to hide the unbidden bitterness in his eyes.

Just then, a familiar, low voice came from behind him. “You ran well.”

Ying Yulian froze. He spun around.

Lu Min was standing just two steps behind him. His face was expressionless, but those deep black eyes were looking at him—focused and calm, like two bottomless pools of water.

He really came.

The thought struck Ying Yulian’s chaotic brain like a bolt of lightning. All his logic, restraint, and the “rules” and “boundaries” that had been repeatedly drilled into him collapsed in an instant. His body reacted before his mind could.

By the time Ying Yulian realized what he was doing, he had already thrown himself into Lu Min’s arms. The impact was quite strong, causing Lu Min to take half a step back, but Lu Min’s arms rose almost instantly. He did not push him away; instead, he caught him steadily.

One hand rested on his sweat-soaked back, while the other instinctively shielded the back of his head in a purely defensive, protective posture.

Ying Yulian buried himself in the man’s embrace, his face pressed against the crisp jacket. He could smell the clean scent of detergent mixed with a faint hint of tobacco and Lu Min’s unique cold fragrance. Sweat soaked a small patch of the fabric, but he did not care. He wrapped his arms tightly around Lu Min’s waist, gripping the back of the jacket until his knuckles turned white.

Like a drowning person finally grasping a piece of driftwood. Like a stray cub finally finding its nest.

The noise of the sports field faded away at this moment, blurring into a meaningless background sound. In Ying Yulian’s ears, he could only hear Lu Min’s steady heartbeat—one, two—solid and powerful, vibrating through his chest and making his eardrums tingle.

He felt Lu Min’s body stiffen for a moment. Then, the hand protecting the back of his head very lightly and almost imperceptibly rubbed his wet hair.

“You’re getting sweat all over me,” Lu Min’s voice came from above. It was devoid of emotion, but the arm holding him did not loosen.

Ying Yulian buried his face even deeper, letting out a muffled whimper that sounded like a mix of grievance and acting spoiled. He did not care if people were watching or if this was “against the rules.” He only knew that Lu Min was here—here when he needed him most, here after he had run with all his might, and here when he thought he had been left behind.

How long did they hug? Ten seconds? Twenty seconds? Ying Yulian didn’t know. Time lost its meaning at that moment.

Finally, Lu Min lightly patted his back. “That’s enough.” The tone was light, but it carried an air of finality.

Ying Yulian reluctantly let go and took half a step back. His face was still red, though he didn’t know if it was from the run or the impulsive embrace. He kept his head down, not daring to look Lu Min in the eye, as his fingers unconsciously toyed with the hem of his shirt.

“Look up,” Lu Min said.

The youth slowly raised his face. Lu Min reached out and used his thumb to wipe away a drop of sweat that was about to fall from his temple. The action was natural, as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times in his mind.

“Third place?” he asked.

Ying Yulian nodded vigorously, his eyes shining as he waited for some form of recognition. Lu Min looked at him for a few seconds, then his lips curved almost imperceptibly. It was a very slight, nearly invisible arc, but it caused Ying Yulian’s heart to skip a beat.

“Not bad,” he said, his voice carrying a rare, nearly tender quality. “You were six seconds faster than your previous practice.”

Lu Min actually knows my results?

Ying Yulian’s eyes widened in disbelief. To him, there were too many things in the man’s life more important than himself; he assumed he was merely a bystander Lu Min had rescued. Had Lu Min been watching him all along?

The sunlight was pleasant, casting a warm glow over both of them. The noise of the field rushed back into his ears, and classmates were whispering nearby, their gazes filled with curiosity, surprise, and envy.

But Ying Yulian did not care. In his eyes, there was only Lu Min. There was only this person who had caught him steadily when he lunged forward, who remembered his last training result, and who appeared after his run to say, “Not bad.”

Lu Min withdrew his hand and glanced at his watch. “Do you have any more events?”

Ying Yulian shook his head.

“Then go change your clothes.” Lu Min turned to walk out of the field. “You’re covered in sweat; you’ll catch a cold easily.”

The youth followed closely behind him, his steps so light he felt as if he were flying. He secretly watched Lu Min’s tall back, the sunlight dancing on him, and his own shadow closely hugging the other’s.

A place in his heart that had been empty for a long time was suddenly filled. It was warm and soft, like cotton dried in the sun.