Stop Being a Black Lotus, Okay? - Chapter 6

On the weekend before the monthly exams, the study was filled with the characteristic lazy sunlight of a winter afternoon.

Ying Yulian stood at the door of the study holding a stack of textbooks and exercise books, his fingers unconsciously picking at the edges of the pages. He was dressed in loose, light gray loungewear. His hair, freshly washed, fell softly over his forehead, making him look gentle and clean.

Lu Min sat behind the desk with several contracts spread out before him. Hearing the movement, he looked up, his gaze landing on the pile of books in the boy’s arms.

“Is something wrong?”

“Um,” Ying Yulian’s voice was very soft. “The monthly exams are next week.”

“I know,” Lu Min replied, his eyes returning to the contracts. “I drew up your revision plan last week.”

Ying Yulian bit his lower lip and moved two steps forward. “But, I still do not quite understand the geometric proof questions in math.”

Lu Min’s hand paused as he turned a page. He looked up at the boy. “You got a perfect score on the geometry section of last week’s test.”

The air went still for two seconds. Ying Yulian’s face flushed a deep red instantly. He lowered his head, his fingers gripping the book even tighter, and spoke in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz. “I, I just suddenly forgot how to do them.”

Lu Min watched him for a long time, so long that Ying Yulian felt as if he were being seen through, and long enough that he began to regret making such a clumsy excuse.

“Come here.” Lu Min set down his pen, his voice unreadable.

Ying Yulian walked over immediately and stood at the side of the desk. This position was right by Lu Min’s hand; with a slight tilt of his head, he could see the man’s handsome, masculine profile.

Lu Min pulled the math workbook from the stack and flipped to the geometry unit. “Which question?” he asked.

Ying Yulian pointed randomly at a proof. He actually knew how to solve it; he had done it last week and remembered the steps clearly. In truth, he was far too intelligent for schoolwork to pose any real difficulty, even though he had only recently started attending classes.

However, he leaned in anyway, pretending to frown in confusion. “This one, I do not know where to add the auxiliary line.”

Lu Min said nothing. He picked up a pencil, the lead hovering over the paper but not yet touching it. Because Ying Yulian wanted to see the problem clearly, he had to lean down slightly.

This posture brought them very close, close enough for him to smell the faint scent of Lu Min’s aftershave, close enough to see the tiny shadows cast by the man’s eyelashes, and close enough that if he moved just a bit further, his cheek would brush Lu Min’s shoulder.

“Look here,” Lu Min said suddenly.

The tip of the pencil tapped a specific point on the diagram. Ying Yulian followed the movement, but his gaze drifted toward the hand holding the pencil. There were faint veins on the back of the hand, the wrist bone was prominent, and the way his fingers held the pencil was perfect and elegant.

“The auxiliary line should be drawn from here to here,” Lu Min explained as he drew a dotted line on the figure. The pencil made a slight scratching sound against the paper, the line clean and sharp.

His voice was low, right next to Ying Yulian’s ear. His warm breath brushed against the boy’s earlobe, sending a faint shiver through him. Ying Yulian instinctively tucked his neck in but could not help moving even closer. His arm almost pressed against Lu Min’s; the soft fabric of his loungewear rubbed against the crisp sleeve of the man’s dress shirt with a soft rustle.

“Do you understand?” Lu Min turned his head to look at him.

Their distance at that moment was incredibly close. Ying Yulian could see his own reflection in Lu Min’s pupils and feel the air from the man’s breath brushing against his cheek. He opened his mouth but could not find any words. His heart was beating so fast it felt as if it might break his ribs.

Lu Min waited for a few seconds. Seeing no reaction, he suddenly reached out and grasped the boy’s wrist. That hand was cool, but the palm was slightly calloused; the rough texture against the boy’s delicate skin sent a tingle through him like an electric current.

Lu Min pulled his hand, guiding him to hold the pencil. “Draw it yourself,” he said, his voice a near whisper.

Ying Yulian’s fingers were trembling. Lu Min’s hand covered the back of his own, the warmth seeping through the skin as he controlled the movement. The pencil tip moved across the paper, following the path of the dotted line, stroke by stroke, slow and steady.

He could feel the lines of Lu Min’s palm and the sensation of the man’s knuckles against the back of his hand. He could also feel Lu Min’s thumb unconsciously and very lightly stroking the soft skin on the inside of his wrist. Once, then twice. It felt like a comfort, yet also like a measurement.

Ying Yulian’s breathing grew ragged. He tried to focus on the question, but all his senses betrayed him. Everything focused on the hand holding his, the skin pressed together, and the steady yet powerful sound of breathing by his ear.

“Keep your hand steady,” Lu Min said calmly, as if this near embrace was perfectly normal. Yet his fingertips continued to stroke that patch of skin with a light but undeniable focus.

Ying Yulian finished drawing the line. It was wobbly and far less beautiful than the one Lu Min had drawn.

“Ugly,” Lu Min remarked, though his tone held no actual distaste.

He let go of the hand, but as his fingertips withdrew, they brushed seemingly by accident against the inside of the boy’s wrist, which was now faintly red from the friction. Ying Yulian hurriedly pulled his hand back, his fingers curling as if trying to hold onto the fleeting sensation. He kept his head down, his ears red enough to bleed.

“Still do not get it?” Lu Min asked, a very faint, almost imperceptible hint of a smile in his voice.

“I, I get it now,” Ying Yulian whispered.

“Then the next one.” Lu Min flipped the page, his pencil stopping on another problem. “This one, trigonometry.”

Ying Yulian leaned in to look. This time he did not dare get too close, but as he bent down, Lu Min naturally leaned back against the chair. This posture allowed the boy’s silhouette to be completely enveloped by his presence.

The pencil calculated on the paper, lines of formulas appearing one by one. Lu Min’s explanation was deep and steady, his logic as clear as if he were profiling a case. But Ying Yulian could not take in a single word. His entire attention was on the hand holding the pen, the cuff that occasionally brushed the back of his hand, and the body heat that was so close yet never truly touching.

Sunlight slanted in from the window, cutting the desk into small blocks of light and shadow. Dust motes floated slowly in the sunbeams, and time felt stretched out, as if every breath and every blink were amplified into slow motion.

Ying Yulian quietly looked up at Lu Min’s profile. The man was focused on the problem, his eyelashes casting a shallow shadow. His nose was straight, his lips slightly pursed, and his jawline held an elegant curve. The sunlight hit half of his face, outlining a profile as clear and handsome as a sculpture. He was so beautiful it was hard to look away.

“Watch the problem,” Lu Min said suddenly. His eyes were still on the paper, but he had accurately caught the boy’s wandering attention.

Ying Yulian hurriedly looked down, his heart thumping. Lu Min’s pencil point tapped a step. “Here, you substituted the wrong formula.”

His finger moved over, tracing the error. His arm crossed in front of Ying Yulian, and for a moment, the boy was almost half circled in his arms. Ying Yulian held his breath. He could feel the warmth of Lu Min’s arm through the fabric and smell the distinct scent of the man: cool, clean, with a hint of tobacco and coffee. It was a scent that felt safe, a scent one would want to drown in.

The posture lasted only two seconds. Lu Min withdrew his arm and sat up straight again, as if the closeness had only been necessary for the explanation.

“Recalculate it,” he said, handing over the pencil.

When Ying Yulian took the pencil, his fingertips accidentally brushed Lu Min’s fingers. It was a light touch, over in an instant, but it felt like a spark hitting his skin. His hand jerked, and he almost dropped the pencil.

Lu Min glanced at him but said nothing. He simply reached out and steadied the trembling hand. His palm covered the back of the hand again, the warmth penetrating through the skin. This time, Lu Min did not let go immediately. Instead, he maintained the hold, guiding him to write the correct formula on the paper.

The pencil scratched across the paper, scritch, scratch.

Ying Yulian’s hand was still shaking, but Lu Min’s hand was steady. It was as steady as a rock, like a harbor, like the only certain anchor in a world of turbulence.

“Relax,” Lu Min said softly, his fingertips once again stroking the inside of the boy’s wrist as if to help him loosen up. “It is just writing. Why are you so nervous?”

But it was that “just” that sent Ying Yulian’s breathing into complete disarray. He bit his lower lip, forcing himself to focus, but every nerve ending was shouting and cheering, ecstatic for this hard won closeness.

He finally finished the step. Lu Min released his hand and leaned back into his chair, looking at the wobbly handwriting. After a few seconds, he shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“Your handwriting is really ugly,” he said. His tone held no dislike, but rather something almost indulgent.

Ying Yulian pulled his hand back with a red face, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the spot that had been touched. The warmth and sensation of Lu Min’s palm remained there, burning and deep.

The sunlight crept slowly from one end of the desk to the other. The study was quiet, save for the sound of turning pages and the light scratching of the pencil. Ying Yulian “asked” a few more questions. Lu Min answered them all with surprising patience. With every explanation, Ying Yulian would inadvertently draw closer or brush against him, enjoying the heart racing focus of Lu Min’s gaze.

Finally, the sky outside began to darken. Lu Min closed the workbook and checked the time. “It is time for dinner.”

Ying Yulian was somewhat reluctant to leave but nodded obediently. He gathered his books, and as he turned to go, he heard Lu Min speak from behind him.

“We will continue tomorrow.”

The boy spun around, his eyes shining brightly. “Really?”

Lu Min leaned back in his chair, hands folded on his knees. His dark eyes looked exceptionally deep in the fading light. How could he not see through Ying Yulian’s “act”?

“Yes,” he said, the corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly. “Since you ‘need’ the tutoring so much.”

The word “need” was spoken with deep meaning. Ying Yulian’s face turned red once more. He clutched his books and practically fled the study, but his lips could not stop curling upward into a silly, irrepressible smile.

The light footsteps of the boy echoed through the hallway, gradually fading away.

In the study, Lu Min sat in the twilight, his gaze falling on the paper they had just written on together. The pencil marks were still fresh, one set of handwriting large and steady, the other small and trembling. They intertwined on the page, intimate in a way their relationship was not supposed to be.

After a long while, he reached out and brushed his fingertips very lightly over the marks. Then he shook his head and let out a low chuckle.

“He is just a child after all.”