Chapter 27 — Press Here For a Bit and I’ll Feel Better
Sensing the gaze beside him, Yu Fan turned, ready to shove Chen Jingshen’s head back where it belonged. Instead he crashed straight into Chen Jingshen’s eyes.
To play dice with Zuo Kuan earlier, Yu Fan had leaned that direction. More people had arrived, the couch kept getting tighter, and only now did it hit him how close he and Chen Jingshen were. Close enough that even in a room fogged with smoke, Yu Fan could smell him. Mint, threaded with the heat of alcohol, a cool clean scent that cut through everything else.
Chen Jingshen’s breathing was a shade heavier, his eyes bright with a trace of drunken starlight.
For a split second, Yu Fan forgot what he had meant to curse.
Phones were sneaking up all over the room. Nobody was singing anymore. The heads at the other end of the couch craned toward them. When Chen Jingshen moved, all those heads moved too.
Then they saw Yu Fan’s face, dropped like a guillotine.
“…?”
Right. Everyone recovered at once. The dare only said kiss the person beside you. It never said it had to be the opposite sex. Not as exciting if it was two boys… the hell it wasn’t!
Phones went up higher.
Whispers rustled.
“Is it going to be a real kiss?”
“The card says so.”
“Who’s Chen Jingshen going to kiss?”
“Duh, Yu Fan. Better that than some random girl, right?”
“Will Yu Fan agree?”
“Didn’t Yu Fan push the top student to pick a dare in the first place?”
“…Fair point.”
Wang Lu’an glanced at Zhang Xianjing, who had turned away to reapply lip gloss, then at Yu Fan, who sat like a landmine, and silently prayed for Chen Jingshen’s soul.
“F***,” Zuo Kuan muttered. “What the f*** kind of card is this? How have I never seen it before?”
“Isn’t this a normal dare?” Zhang Xianjing snapped her gloss shut. “All right, bring it on. You drew it, you honor it. Three minutes of making out, who’s afraid of that?”
Zuo Kuan: “…”
Wang Lu’an had wanted to weasel out, but Zhang Xianjing had said it out loud. He could only try to soften it. “Make-out is too much. Forget it, just a kiss for show. Zuo Kuan, you good with that?”
It was a game between Chen Jingshen and Zuo Kuan. If Zuo Kuan agreed, no one else mattered.
“No problem,” Zuo Kuan said at once, all irritation. He might be staring at Yu Fan now, but what if the top student changed his mind midair and went for Zhang Xianjing instead? Fine. Let’s see if the top student wanted chastity or mercy.
“Okay.” Wang Lu’an looked at Chen Jingshen. “So, top student… who are you kissing?”
The question snapped Yu Fan back. Arms folded, he turned his head away. His face shut down, cold and hard, every line spelling no.
On the other side, Zhang Xianjing dropped her gloss into her bag and puckered just so. She gave Chen Jingshen’s shoulder a coy poke and whispered big as a lion, “Top student, I can help you out. As long as you promise to handle my homework and exams this term…”
Chen Jingshen had no intention of “trading.”
He drew his gaze back, exhaled a slow breath, ready to ask if four drinks could buy him out. A sudden gust crossed his vision.
An arm dropped across his chest.
White hoodie sleeves, creased from being worn too long, the perfect picture of their owner’s bad mood and awkwardness.
For once, Chen Jingshen was startled. He stared at the fabric for two seconds, then lifted his eyes.
Yu Fan was staring straight ahead, face even uglier than before. He ground out one word. “Kiss.”
Everyone blinked.
Zuo Kuan found his voice first. “Kissing a hand counts? And through a sleeve?”
“Why wouldn’t it?” Wang Lu’an shot back. “I just said a kiss for show. Show means anywhere. And you already said you had no objections.”
“How was I supposed to know you’d lawyer it this hard?”
Yu Fan’s brows twitched. He was about to snarl at them to quit pushing it when warmth closed around his wrist and held.
He jerked instinctively. No use. He glanced over.
Chen Jingshen’s fingers had settled around his wrist. With quiet pressure, he raised Yu Fan’s hand.
Yu Fan’s arm folded up on its own. Before he processed it, his fingers had already pressed to Chen Jingshen’s face. He could feel the weight of Chen Jingshen’s breath, heavy between his fingers.
Half a second later, Chen Jingshen’s lashes dipped. He kissed Yu Fan’s open palm.
Yu Fan froze like he had been struck by lightning.
Heat flared where lips touched skin, then ran the veins like fire, all the way up to his ears.
Silence rolled back in. Someone even paused the track on the TV. Wang Lu’an and Zuo Kuan were mid-argument about “Class 7 can’t play sh**” and “Class 8 is cheap as h***,” and both shut up at once.
Zhang Xianjing’s fox eyes went wide. She had been ready to scold Yu Fan for stealing her thunder, but under the dim light, Chen Jingshen’s gaze was softer than usual. The hand on his face curled a little, not half as clawed as it normally was.
“Is that enough?” Chen Jingshen asked.
Wang Lu’an and Zuo Kuan were still stunned, and a little reverent. Had he kissed a palm? That had been a tiger’s paw pad.
“…good,” Zuo Kuan murmured.
“Top student,” Wang Lu’an said, sincerely throwing a thumbs-up, “you’re the man.”
Chen Jingshen ignored them. He set Yu Fan’s arm down and loosened his grip. His voice was low and rough as he leaned toward the boy beside him. “Thanks.”
Yu Fan jerked back to life, yanked his hand free, and ground out under his breath, “Did I f***ing tell you to kiss my hand?”
“Then where?” Chen Jingshen said.
Yu Fan turned, ready to wad his sleeve and stuff it in Chen Jingshen’s mouth. His eyes flicked to everything below the bridge of Chen Jingshen’s nose and stopped dead.
F***…
“Drinks are hitting,” someone shouted by the table. “Anyone else for dice? Two more and we’ll make it loud.”
“Me.”
The guy turned and saw Yu Fan. Remembering how he had just flattened Zuo Kuan, he forced a laugh. “Brother Fan, aren’t you tired? Maybe take a break…”
“Not tired.”
Yu Fan got up in one fluid motion, dragged over a single leather stool, sat, and lifted his eyes. “Zuo Kuan, get over here.”
Zuo Kuan, who had just lain down to rest: “…”
“You, Wang Lu’an, and your class’s top student took turns ganging up on me. Who’s the one who can’t play?”
“How many from Class 8 showed up tonight?” Yu Fan capped the dice cup with a hard thud. “Send them all.”
—
It took Yu Fan less than half an hour to drink the Class 8 boys under the table.
“I’m out,” their PE student said, waving him off. “I really can’t. I’ll draw a dare card, okay?”
“Okay,” Yu Fan allowed.
The PE student shivered, shot to his feet, and planted himself by Wang Lu’an. “Swap seats.”
“No,” Wang Lu’an said, laughing. “Worst case you kiss a palm. What’s the big deal…”
Yu Fan flicked a die that clinked off Wang Lu’an’s knuckles. Wang Lu’an just chuckled and caught it.
The PE student had better luck than Chen Jingshen and drew the “go sing ‘Tibetan Plateau’ in the next room” dare.
The boys erupted, swarming him toward the door. Half the room emptied in an instant.
Yu Fan did not care. He stayed put. He took one sip, then another, then on the third finally and reluctantly looked back.
Chen Jingshen sat quietly. The moment Yu Fan turned, he seemed to sense it and lifted his eyes.
Yu Fan noticed he was listing. Not just his body, his head too, tilting with no strength to hold it up. He looked ready to pitch sideways at any moment, and in a little while would probably be lying on Zhang Xianjing’s shoulder.
Zhang Xianjing sat poised, smiling gently, ready to receive.
Perfect.
Yu Fan looked away, bored.
Chen Jingshen slipped a hair lower. Zhang Xianjing’s shoulders tensed. How long was this going to take? She might as well just push his head down now.
Her fingers twitched. A hand shot in, caught Chen Jingshen’s collar, and set him upright again.
Expression flat, Yu Fan held him steady. Who told you to act tough when you cannot drink?
Chen Jingshen lifted his eyes to him, then lowered them. He pinched lightly at the hem of Yu Fan’s shirt. “Yu Fan,” he rasped. “I feel sick.”
—
After wreaking harmless havoc next door, the boys were laughing and apologizing their way back out of the other room when their own door swung open.
Yu Fan came out holding someone up with one hand and a backpack in the other.
Wang Lu’an stared. He could not remember the last time he had seen Yu Fan carry a backpack.
“He’s done. I’m taking him out,” Yu Fan said coolly when he saw him.
“Okay,” Wang Lu’an said. “Need help?”
“I got it.”
He said it, but Wang Lu’an still stood there watching. Then he noticed that although the top student was drunk, his steps were steady and sure.
Relieved, Wang Lu’an turned back toward the room.
—
Past nine was peak night life. Everyone else was polished and glittering. Yu Fan, shouldering a drunk, stalked for the exit with a thundercloud on his face.
“Feel like throwing up?”
A pause, then Chen Jingshen weighed his words. “A little.”
“Swallow it.”
“Okay.”
Yu Fan still detoured to the restroom and parked him there. He waited a bit. Chen Jingshen came out with damp skin, as if he had washed his face. Whether he had puked or not, who knew.
Yu Fan checked the traffic outside and asked, “Your address.”
“I am not going home,” Chen Jingshen said.
“Then which street are you sleeping on?”
His bangs were wet, clinging together. “I told my family I was going to tutoring. It is not time yet. I cannot go back.”
“… ”
Five minutes later, they walked into the 7-Eleven near the KTV.
It was quiet. At this hour most customers were there for cigarettes. Yu Fan found a window seat, settled Chen Jingshen there with his backpack.
“Your ‘tutoring’ ends when?”
Chen Jingshen glanced at the clock. “Eleven.”
Yu Fan frowned. Chen Jingshen amended, “I can leave at ten. My house is far. One hour is just right.”
“If it’s far, why come out here?” Yu Fan said. “And why drink this much? Do you even know how to play dice?”
“He asked me to switch seats,” Chen Jingshen said.
“… ”
“I did not want to move.”
“… ”
Yu Fan lifted his lids and walked off.
“Where are you going?” Chen Jingshen asked.
“Smoke.”
Yu Fan got to the door and remembered his pack was empty. He pivoted to the counter, hand already in his pocket, when a display by the register caught his eye. Honey.
Of course. Great business sense.
“A pack of…” He paused. “Honey.”
The clerk blinked. “Sorry, we only carry honey in jars.”
“I know.” Yu Fan dropped cash on the counter and scowled. “You got warm water and a cup?”
When he returned, Chen Jingshen was leaning on the glass with his eyes closed. The skin beneath them was red, probably the booze. His shoulders had loosened and sagged, all rare languor.
Wang Lu’an had bought imported stuff for his birthday. It was the kind that went down easy but kicked like a mule. Last time he drank it, he slept a whole day after.
Yu Fan felt like an idiot holding a plastic cup. He bumped Chen Jingshen’s shoulder. “Chen Jingshen.”
No response.
Outside, the brake lights smeared the convenience store in red. For a second Yu Fan could not tell if the color on Chen Jingshen’s face was the alcohol or the glow.
Why no reaction? He had not drunk himself into trouble, had he? Could he really go home like this without being found out? Should Yu Fan just haul him to a hospital?
He hesitated and lifted his hand without thinking. He brushed the back of his fingers over Chen Jingshen’s cheek.
Warm. Still alive.
Chen Jingshen’s eyes snapped up, black and heavy with drink, slow and almost insolent.
Yu Fan stiffened and found his voice. “Do you feel awful? Do you want the hospital?”
Chen Jingshen said nothing.
“Say something,” Yu Fan frowned.
Chen Jingshen lowered his eyes, turned his face, and pressed it, with a little insistence, to the back of Yu Fan’s hand.
After minutes of silence, his voice came low and rough. “I will be fine. If you let me lean here for a bit, it won’t feel so bad.”
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